#one of us who i shall not name was v turned on

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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#bree’s fics #jjk #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojou #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojou #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo saturo #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen #tw: organized crime #tw: attempted murder

[valeskafics]

"Goddess" - Aemond Targaryen x Wetnurse!Reader

a/n: a request from my darling jojo @misguidedasgardian - hope you enjoy this, my love!!! 🩷

Summary: When Aemond meets the new wetnurse to his nephew, Prince Maelor, he is immediately besotted.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, ye olde mommy kink, lactation kink, choking, dom!reader, tiddy succin, oral f receiving, p in v sex, breeding kink

Word Count: 3,000 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Aemond never expected himself to be so taken by a woman after only one meeting, let alone a lowborn wetnurse. But you looked at him, with that gentle smile and those soft eyes, something hidden behind them that he so desperately wanted to discover, and greeted him in that sweet voice of yours. He never had a chance against you. He gravitates toward you, finding himself in the royal nursery more often than not, engaging you in conversation as you care for little Maelor. And you never dismiss him. He just stands there in the corner, admiring you as you care for his nephew. He learns that you have a child of your own, a little boy named Robin who you love more than life itself. He knows you must be a wonderful mother and that boy is very lucky to have you. He learns that your husband abandoned you and your babe while you were still with child, leaving the two of you destitute.

It was a miracle that Helaena happened upon you shortly after you gave birth when she had gone into town to visit the apothecary. She immediately took you on as a wetnurse for her own babe, fixing you up with your own quarters in the servant’s wing, cradle included for your little one. Aemond adores how kind you are to Helaena, always treating her with respect and care, always being kind to her twins. You are the epitome of grace, he thinks, the Mother in human form. A goddess among women.

He finds you in the nursery this fine morning, holding little Maelor to your chest, rocking him back and forth as he wails. You coo to him in a gentle voice, trying to calm him.

“Shh, little prince. It’s alright.”

Aemond leans against the wall, staring at you intently, his eye trailing over the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He knows he should not desire you as he does. He will be sent off to marry some noblewoman of his grandfather’s choosing while you will remain in service to his sister. But gods, you are the only woman he has ever felt this way for. He watches as you place the babe in his cradle, pressing a soft kiss to his brow as he finally calms. And all he can imagine at that moment is your lips on his own as he makes you cry out his name in the bedchamber.

He stands up straight when you turn to him and smile, “Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise. Did you wish to hold your nephew?”

Aemond continues to stare at you, approaching slowly as he murmurs, “Perhaps I could hold you instead.”

You smile at him, shaking your head, “As always, you are very funny, my prince. I always enjoy our chats when you come to see the little one.”

He takes another step closer, running his fingers along your arm, fire in his eye as he replies, “You know, my lady, I find myself wanting more than a chat.”

As if on cue, Maelor once again begins to fuss and Aemond holds back his groan of disappointment as you chide him playfully, picking the babe up, “And you shall remain wanting, Your Grace. My loyalties are to this little one.” 

He moves to rest his hand on Maelor’s head, smiling slightly as he stands by your side. It’s strange, he thinks, when he stands like this, he can almost pretend that the two of you are looking upon your own little babe. And his thoughts once again return to how beautiful you would look, laying upon his bed, your face twisted in ecstasy as he fills you with seed, your belly swelling with his child.

“He’s been fussing,” you comment, rocking the baby, “It is as if he can tell that King Aegon is hurt. The poor little angel.”

Aemond extends his arms, wishing to lessen your burden if only for a moment, and you carefully shift his nephew to him, your eyes locked on each other’s. Aemond feels awful for thinking it, but he wishes the babe would stop its wailing so he could just have a conversation with you. And yet, the wailing increases when he is in Aemond’s arms. He sheepishly hands the child back to you, watching as you giggle.

“I am sorry, my prince. Sometimes, a woman’s touch is the only remedy, it would seem.”

“You are not wrong,” Aemond says quietly before smirking, taking another step closer to you, “I think that your touch could very easily cure all my ailments.”

You roll your eyes at him, smiling, “You, my prince, are incorrigible. Now, it is time for me to nurse your nephew, so I must ask you to give the two of us some privacy.”

His hand moves to rest on your waist, squeezing gently as he leans in to whisper in your ear, lips ghosting along your skin, “Surely you can find a way to nurse him with me here. I assure you, I won’t be a bother.”

You look up at him, biting back a smile, “Oh, alright. But if your lady mother hears of this, it’ll be my head on the executioner’s block.”

Aemond chuckles, the heat in him rising to unprecedented levels. He can tell that you want this, that you want him as badly as he wants you.

“Perhaps she never has to know?”

“Perhaps you ought to let me do what it is your sister pays me for,” you tease, picking Maelor up once again and moving to sit in the rocking chair beside his cradle.

He watches, his breath catching in his throat as you unlace the bodice of your dress, freeing one of your full, round breasts. Aemond feels his cock twitch against his breeches as he stares at you, watching as you dote on his nephew. The babe suckles at you as you continue murmuring to him gently, smiling down at the little prince. There is something about watching you in this state that drives him mad. The way your eyes shine with adoration as you look down at Maelor, the way your body moves as you care for him. The desire he feels for you is unlike any he has ever felt before. And he finds himself envious of Maelor’s position, wanting nothing more than to be the one in your arms, held by you as he takes his fill.

Maelor soon falls asleep and you lay him back in his cradle, kissing his forehead. You turn to face Aemond, slowly redoing the laces of your bodice, taking your time, allowing him to admire you as you do so. You’re teasing him, he realizes, putting on a show just for him. The thought excites him more than he cares to admit. You give him a half-hearted little apology, your fingers ghosting over your nipples as he watches lustfully, taking a small step toward you. You are beautiful. Stunning. Perfect. Everything he has ever wanted.

“No apologies necessary, my lady,” he says quietly, “The view from here is… Quite breathtaking.”

You give him that smile, demure and yet so very coy, “Thank you. The other nurse will be coming to relieve me soon. I bid you goodnight, Your Grace.”

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he gently grabs you by the hand, “I… I do not wish for you to go.”

“And yet I have my own babe to care for,” you say softly, “I apologize, my prince.”

“And who cares for you, sweet lady?” Aemond asks, moving his hand to your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “Your husband, the wretched fool, is not here to tend to your needs. No one should abandon their wife so easily, especially not a beautiful and kind woman like you.”

“So my abandonment would have been acceptable if I were ugly?”

Aemond rolls his eye at your teasing, entirely charmed by you, “Your heart is as beautiful as your face and your body. So no, it would not have been acceptable.”

“You are kind to say so, Your Grace.” Aemond watches as you begin to walk away, his gaze fixed on you and you alone.

The prince suddenly blurts out, “Do you long for me? As I long for you?”

You do not turn back, only replying quietly, “You’re a prince. I cannot long for you. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Aemond tosses and turns in his bed that night, consumed by thoughts of you. And finally, he realizes he can no longer bear it, crossing the Keep, all the way to the servant’s wing, knocking on the door to your quarters. And when you open your door, you wear a thin nightshift, one that hides very little from his greedy gaze. And yet, you do not seem shy of the fact. You look up at him curiously.

“Is something the matter with Prince Maelor, Your Grace?”

Gods, he loves how much you care for his nephew. He shakes his head, his gaze traveling from the crown of your head to your bare feet, taking in every part of you. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, just content to stand there and admire you for a long moment before he finally speaks.

“No, nothing is wrong. I… I simply wished to see you.”

You are silent for a moment before gesturing to the cradle beside your bed, “This is Robin. My little boy.”

Aemond walks over to stand beside you, gazing down at the innocent-looking little babe as he sleeps peacefully. He cannot help but smile seeing so much of you in this tiny little creature, a soft spot forming in his heart for the boy. He looks at you.

“Surely you have enough love in your heart to care for both of us?”

You laugh softly, the sound making him shiver with want, “You jest too much at my expense, Your Grace. It is quite cruel of you.”

He shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands, his tone serious as he leans in close, “I do not jest. I want you. I have since the moment I saw you. I have thought about you endlessly. My thoughts, my dreams, all consumed by you. And I know you want me too, my lady. Do not deny me. Do not deny the way I yearn for you.”

“You are a prince,” you try to reason, resting your hands over his, “And I am merely a servant. It is impossible.”

Aemond doesn’t care for your reasoning. The only thing on his mind is how much he needs you. His lips come crashing down against yours, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as his tongue explores your mouth, moving against your own. His free hand moves up to your breast, squeezing gently, loving the way you moan against him at his touch.

“We shouldn’t,” you say between kisses as the two of you move toward your bed, “I could lose everything-”

“I would never allow that,” he vows, lips moving to your neck as he rolls his hips against yours, his length hard against your thigh as he continues groping at your breast, “You will never want for anything. Everything you will ever want will be yours. I will treat you like the queen, the goddess that you are.”

“You cannot make me yours, I am not some highborn lady-”

Aemond cuts you off with a laugh, smiling down at you, his forehead resting against yours, “I do not care about that. I care about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your heart. You needn’t be anything other than what you are.”

You relax into his kiss, the two of you falling onto your bed, him on top of you, your lips never once parting. Your hands thread in his long silvery locks, tugging ever so slightly, enough to make him let out a low groan as he pulls you flush up against him.

“You seemed quite fascinated when I was nursing your nephew earlier,” you tease.

Aemond smirks, hands sliding up under the fabric of your shift, palming at your tits, rolling the soft flesh in his hands, “I will admit to it without shame.”

His lips are hot against yours, wanting, his breath heavy as the two of you continue kissing. Soon enough, he helps you out of your shift, admiring your bare body, your heaving chest, the stretch marks that run along your stomach, the patch of curls above where he wants to touch you the most, the soft flesh of your thighs… You are everything he imagined and more. And then? You ask him the question he has been dying to hear.

“Do you wish to nurse from me, sweet prince? I do not mind.”

He cannot help but moan, your touch on his face like fire to his skin. He closes his eye as you remove the eyepatch that covers his sapphire. He is still clothed, and yet he feels more vulnerable and naked than ever. But you just trace your fingers along his scar, pressing your lips to his brow as you whisper two words.

“Beautiful boy.”

Your words are music to his ears. He opens his eye and gazes up at you as you draw him to your chest. His breath hitches, lips ghosting across your skin before he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. Aemond’s lips wrap around your pert bud, suckling at you, his gaze locked on yours. The moment is so intimate it almost makes his heart ache, your milk spilling onto his tongue as you gaze at him fondly, your hand running through his hair.

You moan softly, the sound spurring Aemond on as you coo, “There you are, sweet boy, take your fill.”

It is as if he has died and ascended to the Seven Heavens themselves. Your taste, your gaze, your touch. He craves you like he needs air in his lungs. He moves to your other breast, loving the way you tremble against his lips, how sweet you taste, taking his fill of you as you asked. When he finally moves his lips away from you, you pull him toward you in a soft kiss, slow and sensual as his tongue moves against yours. You tug at his tunic, and Aemond does not hesitate to remove it, sliding his breeches off as well, leaving the two of you completely bare before each other.

“Can I taste you?”

You give him an amused smile, “Is that not what you just did?”

Aemond lets out an exasperated sigh, nudging your thighs apart as he stares at you pleadingly, “Please?”

You nod, your head falling back against your pillow as he begins lapping at your folds. Aemond grasps at your thighs, squeezing your soft flesh, moaning against your skin. He cannot get enough of you. Your taste is like ambrosia on his tongue, and all he wants is to keep his face buried between your thighs. He feels your body tremble as his nose brushes against your pearl, and so he repeats the action, grinning to himself at the wanton cry of his name you let out. Your hand threads in his hair as you grind your hips against his face, and Aemond is happy to give you exactly what it is you want. He continues fucking you with his tongue, moving to wrap his lips around your swollen bud, fingers teasing your folds over and over and over until you reach your peak.

He pulls back and gazes up at you, the evidence of your arousal on his lips as he presses them to your own. He is taken somewhat by surprise when you move to flip the two of you over, climbing atop him and straddling his waist. He grins up at you, letting out a groan of pleasure as you sink down on him, your cunt feeling so hot and wet and perfect around him. Aemond feels you squeeze around him slightly, the sensation almost being enough to make him spill himself right then and there, but he holds back.

“I want to make you mine,” he whispers as your hand wraps around his throat, moaning as you squeeze gently, continuing to roll your hips against his, “To raise Robin with you. To have a family with you. Do you feel the same as I do?”

“I do, my sweet prince,” you murmur softly, your breasts bouncing in time with your hips, his hands moving to cup them, squeezing them gently, “I do.”

“My goddess,” he rasps as you rest your forehead against his, sinking down onto his cock over and over, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the air along with his moans and your own. Your hand on his throat feels nothing short of divine, the pressure bringing him closer and closer to his peak, “Marry me. My queen. My goddess. Let me fill you with my seed. Let me watch you grow round with my child. Let me love you for the rest of my days.”

“Then spill yourself in me, my prince,” you whisper in his ear, “Lay the foundation for our future together. Let yourself go, my sweet boy.”

And he does. With a low moan, his hands moving to grip your hips, he spills himself inside you, feeling your body tighten around him and relax moments later, making him realize you have reached your peak.

You lay down in his arms, pressing your lips to his jaw, and Aemond knows that you are the woman he wishes to spend the rest of his life with. He watches as you get up to check on Robin, moving to stand behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles at the sleeping babe.

He will never allow anything to keep the two of you apart. Not his grandfather, not his mother.

Nothing will part him from his goddess.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #hotd fic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fic #hotd #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #my writing #mommy k*nk #aemond oneshot

[whorekneecentral]

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

--

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

--

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr  @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

#kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen smut #kimi raikkonen x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

[beary-rambles]

Sneaking around

r.q: Hii I was wondering if you could do a Jacerys x twin!reader. Where they have been betrothed since they were young, and as the grow up they start slightly falling for each other. And one night she sneaks into his room and they explore themselves 👀can it be smut aswell. 💕🙏

w.c: 3.2k

c.w: porn with plot, misunderstandings, oral (f), p in v, very inaccurate first time, loss of virginity, jacaerys is an idiot, not proofread, supportive daemon, happy ending, avoids use of y/n, talks of baela/jacaerys

requests are open

part two

You and jacaerys were inseparable ever since you were born. You two did practically everything together. You ate together, you sat and watched him train while he would sit with you and watch you stich. It was hard to separate the two of you. Your mother even told you when you were very young you would cry if you even lost sight of him and they had to bring him to you to comfort you. 

You had thought nothing of it, not until you had reached the age of three and ten when your mother announced you were to marry him. You could not even process this news as seemingly right after came the news of lady laena’s death and funeral then very soon after the marriage between your mother and daemon. 

When you could finally have a moment to breathe back at dragonstone you tried to turn to jacaerys but he seems to be avoiding you at all costs. More interested in spending his day with baela and lucerys. You couldn't even get along with him let alone speak a word to him without him dodging you and mumbling something about being busy before walking away and most of the time he would be spotted talking with baela and it broke you. 

You began spending more time with Rhaena and Joffrey instead. Joffrey was far too young to even understand why you were upset but rhaena did and did her best to try and cheer you up.

It was hard to move past it but It got easier as the years went on and he still refused to even glance at you. 

“Do you think she will call off the betrothal if I ask her too?” you were now eight and one after your recent name day and dread filled you as you realized you were getting closer and closer to marrying jacaerys. You two still did not talk, you had given up trying to speak to him a long time ago. 

Daemon who was casualing sitting next to you takes a sip out of his goblet, “why ever would you ask her to?” 

You do not lift your head to look at him with his curious stare and continued to stare at the game board in front of you, picking up one of the pieces before answering,

“He does not like me, it would be better for both of us if he married someone else,” you place the piece down before answering him, “like baela.”

He laughs, he laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach, “it is not funny.”

He wipes a tear from his face as he manages to calm down. “You're right it is hilarious.”

You scoff and cross your arms, “i knew i shouldn't have brought it up-”

“No no, please continue why do you think he likes baela?” He seemingly picks up a random piece from the board and moves it before leaning back on his chair and looking at you expectantly. “Why should I not? When we had been betrothed the first thing he did was decide he wanted nothing to do with me since. Even on our shared name day he says nothing to me except simply wishing me well. He spends every waking moment with her, and when he is not with her he is with my brothers and simply acts like i do not exist he does not even extend me a good morning or a good night for gods sake!” one of your hands slam down on the table in front of you, the board pieces moving but not falling over and you only grow more and more annoyed at the amused look on his face. 

“You are in love with him.” “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You do not deny it.” you angrily move another piece of yours on the board and lean back on your chair as he does.

“It doesn't matter he does not like me. I shall bring it up to mother anyway since you are of no help.” 

He chuckles to himself as a servant enters the room to inform him rhaenyra requests his presence. He shakes his head as he stands moving one of his pieces before turning back to you. “Give it time Issa dōna.”

It is the last thing he says before he is led out the room. You glance down at the board and throw your head back with a sigh.

He had won.

—

“She plans to ask your mother to cancel the betrothal.”

Jacaerys freezes his head whipping around to look at daemon who was standing closely behind him. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

Daemon laughs, “you sister. She plans to have your betrothal called off.” 

“Why?” 

“Gods you really are foolish boy.”

Jacaerys always believed you to be his better half. While he was more temperamental and hot headed you always seemed to be so rational and so kind. When he heard of your betrothal the first thing he felt was excitement, but it soon turned into fear as he began to worry he would not be a well suited husband to you. He began to spend more time with baela and his mother who taught him how to be a kind and honorable young man and in turn he had begun to ignore you out of fear of ruining your relationship. He had never thought you would turn around and ask for the engagement to be dissolved. 

“You should act quick, she seems rather determined to be rid of you.”

Daemon could barely finish his sentence as he watches jacaerys march out of the room and a smile falls on his face. 

– 

You almost jump out of your seat as the doors of the room you resided in busted open. You moved to a balcony and had been reading. You clutch your book to your chest as you lock eyes with a seemingly out of breath jacaerys who lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing you.

“Jacaerys?”

“Sister, good day.”

You have no clue what to say. This is the first to who knows how long he had come up and approached you himself. All you could do is nod your head as you went back to reading your book.

“Could I sit with you?”

You hum and he takes that as a que to take a seat right next to you. You attempt to focus on the words in the book in front of you but you feel his stare burning into the side of your face you can't help but to feel flustered and the words are nothing but a blur. 

“Would you not rather be hanging out with others?”

After a few moments of silence you cut through it like a knife without looking up at him you continue to feel him stare at you. 

“Who ever could you mean?”

You scoff, aggressively turning the page despite the fact you had not read a single word on the previous one. 

“Oh I don't know, baela perhaps.”

“Baela? I believe she's busy today. But what does she have to do with-” “Oh so you are finally spending time with me because your precious baela is busy?”

“Where is this coming from?”

You stand and take the book under your arm as he stands up as well looking at you alarmed, “y/n..”

Gods, you missed him. You missed the way he said your name.

“I must go i have a meeting with mother i must attend to,”

He looks alarmed and grabs your arm before you can rush past him, “you must not speak with her.”

He grabs your other arm and pulls you close to him so you are forced to lock eyes with him as you feel your breath leave you. He has a desperate look about him, a wash of guilt and sadness over his eyes. 

“I do not deserve it such as i do not deserve you but i must beg for your forgiveness for my transgressions. I have been a bad brother and in part a bad partner but I must beg you to give me another chance. I know I shall never deserve you and I should not have stayed away from you for so long but I was worried you would begin to resent me so I sought out to become a man you would grow to l- grow to enjoy spending your life with. I am sorry. I shall work everyday to earn back your favor and to earn back your trust but I must beg you to not dissolve what has been written in stone between us.”

A tear must have found its way out of your eye as he brings one of his hands to wipe it away, his eyes never straying from yours. “Jace..”

He smiles and leans his forehead against your and takes a deep breath. “I beg of you. Allow me to fall and grovel at your feet for your forgiveness.”

“You're not just going to ask me for it?”

“I do not deserve such an easy fate. You must do me the honor of earning it.”

You laugh and your smile grows as he also begins to smile.

– 

A switch from never seeing jacaerys to practically seeing him all waking hours of your day was a dramatic change. When you awoke he would be waiting for you by the door to walk you to breakfast where he would sit next to you and he would request you come and watch him practice with lucerys and you would try and not laugh as he practically threw the younger boy around like a rag. 

The more and more time you spent with jacaerys the more brave he would become. When the two of you would walk he would place his hand on your back and slide it down almost low enough to be scandalous oh he would pull you into a empty corridor of the keep before dinner and just run his hands up and down your sides as he nudges his head into your neck, seeming content with simply just touching you as such. 

Despite the fact he seemed content, you grew more restless. You wanted him. No, you needed him at this point. Finally having him in your grasp after many years you could barely keep control of yourself when you were around him, wanting nothing more than to jump in his lap and let him have you.

One night you're restless in your bed, turning side to side unable to ignore the ache that resided between your legs and groan as you run your hands along your face. 

You decided to fuck it and just go visit him. Throwing on a cloak and don't even bother to tie it, keeping a firm grip on his with one hand as you walk out of your room and as quietly as you can begin to make your way down the hall down the very familiar path to jacaerys room. 

You begin to rethink your choice as you stare down his door, your bare feet cold on the harsh flooring of the keep. You could see light peeking out from under his door telling you he was still up despite the later hour and against your better judgment you raise your hand and lightly knock on his door. 

You hear a chair scrap and feet paddling towards the door until the door opens and you're met with his shocked face.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” He quickly peeks his head out and looks around the hallway before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the room.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?!? Where you could have been seen, what would mother think?” 

“I'm sorry..”

You hang your head and jacaerys sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get angry. I am just worried about your reputation.” 

He walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him. You finally notice something, he’s shirtless. You should have noticed that sooner, of course he would be shirtless. You know most men sleep shirtless. Why would he be any different? 

He takes notice of your gaze and flushes, you take notice of the red beginning to shine on his ears and on his cheeks. 

“I am so sorry allow me to go cover myself-”

You grab his cheeks and he freezes. In your rush for him not to leave your side you forget about your cloak and it falls to the ground.

You gasp and move closer to him as a chill washes over you.

“y/n…”

His hands grip your waist and pull you right up against him and he drops his head into your neck and leaves a kiss there.

“Tell me to stop at once.” he continues to kiss your neck over and over as he runs his hands up and down your sides and you shudder.

“I demand you ask me to stop.”

His lips trail their way up your jaw and his hands rest against your cheek, “why must i?” “For your honor you must push me away for I fear I desire you far too much, it is improper.” 

“Jace.”

He groans and stops himself from kissing your lips, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing heavily.

“You must push me away.”

You decide to be bold and push your lips against his and he grips your face with his hands, kissing you frivolously.

Your hands find their way onto his chest and slide down under the band of his pants and he groans, his lips sliding off of yours, a trail of saliva falls between you as his head falls into your neck.

“Please, my love please.” he whines as his hips thrust against your hands. You had snuck away and read many a book about what a man and woman do in bed, especially after reconciling with jacaerys, and you wrap your hands around his dick and take your rub to rub around to the tip of it. He groans into your ear and suckles your neck. You use the seemingly constant flowing precum to pump up and down, taking pleasure in the way he whines and moans in your ear.

“You are too kind to me.” he slurs in your ear as you smile and work faster, “i only wish to please you, would you rather me get on my knees?”

You squeal as he rips your hands off him and lifts you up and carries you over the bed, “as thrilling as that view would be, I would much rather be pleasing you my love.”

He lays you down on the bed and gets on his knees pulling you closer to the edge, once he gets closer he lays his head against your thigh and admires you. “You did not come wearing anything under your gown?”

You cover your face with embarrassment, “do you think me desperate?” 

He shakes his head as he moves closer, “no, i am much worse.”

He licks a long strip up your core and grips your hips down with his hands as he eats as if he had never eaten anything before.

Your hands grip his long curly hair and you can barely contain your moans as you try to push him even closer to you.

“How are you so good at this?”

He hums against you sending chills down your spine, “I imagined this more than I would like to admit.” His words are muffled as he continues to assault on your clit but you can understand him clearly and moan even louder. He does not care, if anything he seems to encourage you by not faltering even for a second, if you could have any coherent thoughts you would wonder how he could breathe.

Your grip grows tighter in his hair and your hips fight against his hands as you grow closer and you feel him smile against you. “Come for me, I wish to taste it.”

And you do and he takes his time licking up each and every single drop before kissing his way up and climbs on top of you and smiles at you. His hands fondle your breasts on top of your nightgown, “could you take it off me?” 

Once the two of you are sat up he bunches up the bottom of your gown, “lift your hips for me.” he easily slides the gown up and off of you. His eyes glow as they rack over your body, “you are the most beautiful women in the whole world. I shall never deserve you.” 

He kisses you before standing up and sliding his bottoms off, you do not get any time to admire his form before he is already climbing over you once more and kissing you again.

“Please jace do not tease me.”

“I should prep you more-”

“I dont care”

“It will hurt-”

“All I want is you, please.” He looks worried but gives in as you feel his dick slap against you and you moan as you grip his shoulders.

“Please tell me if it hurts too much.”

It does hurt. It hurts like hell. A part of you almost tells him to stop pushing into you but you power through until you feel him bottom out. You two sit there for a while, the only sounds being your gasping breaths and his strained groans as he seems to be holding himself back. 

Once the pain seems to subside you test with a move of your hips causing him to moan out. “Do not do that.” “You can move.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please do.”

He is slow at first, so slow you can feel every vein up against your walls and you tighten around him and he hisses. As he continues to move your moans seemingly motivate him to begin to move faster and faster until he is rutting into you like he cannot control himself any longer. 

You sloppily leave kisses on his neck as your hands grip his back, you are so overwhelmed, all the feelings you hold towards your twin rushing towards you at full force.

“I love you.”

He stops, out of breath he grips your face with his hands, “what?”

Tears flood your face as you stare at him, you thought he never looked so beautiful. “I love you.”

He leans down and kisses away your tears as he begins to move once again, “I love you so much so so so much my sweet.”

In your rush of emotions you came yet he continues to kiss all over your face and your neck until as he did earlier his head slumps into your neck. “Where do you want me to-”

“In me please I beg of you. I need to feel it.”

And so he does. The two of you stay like that for a while, completely out of breath and covered in sweat. One of his hands comes to your cheek once more and caresses it as he lays a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I love you so much.”

“And i love you.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen #jacaerys

[satoruhour]

Loved the recent sukuna racer au 😭😭😭🩷🩷 can you elaborate a bit more on geto in the same racer au? 🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷

LLOROMANNIC

a/n: thx 4 this ask anon, this is rlly long bahaah i hope u enjoy! more context here. for recap, reader is in japan for an exchange programme.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: (fluff @ the start, smut comes in later) virginity loss, soft dom!geto, geto really really is obsessed w/ you, oral / cunnilingus (eats pussy like this! like i really don’t know what this position’s called), pet names, slight nipple play, clit stimulation, fingering, slight size kink, p -> v penetration, protected sex, n*sfw under the cut

no one really knows how the two of you became so close after that fateful meeting. they’re still wondering how you drew suguru in so effortlessly — some say you planned it, others say it was just by chance, but you’re not too sure yourself when all you can focus on is the racer beside you muttering into your skin a year after.

it was a(n almost) blissful six months when you first start out. that day he did keep his promise, winning the race without breaking a sweat and you cheer for geto unconsciously, catching the curious eyes of gojo and nanami who exchange looks — maybe you’d finally be the someone to capture geto’s heart.

geto made an effort to u-turn back to the corner he was parked in with the passenger side to you and he leans over to open it for you, but in return it just gathers more attention. “shall we go?” you try your best to escape the prying eyes of the tokyo crowd, and with a wave to the other two, geto is speeding off once you’ve gotten into the car.

“so… why’re you driving me there?”

“why cinnamoroll? berry and cherry’s a hundred times better.” he comments, and much to your dismay, he just answers your question with a less serious question than yours.

“why not?”

“well i mean…” was this man really about to lecture you on sanrio characters? his explanation is brief, but detailed, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh — although a snort still leaves you — just as he turns into the next carpark that you were supposed to go into instead and he’s asking what? like he didn’t just ramble about two sanrio demon characters. 

“eh, it’s just cute that a scary, cool racer guy like you knows so much about sanrio.” you giggle when you watch him find an empty spot, and you’re trying to not let it affect you: the dragon that wraps around his bicep right to his forearm, the tense of his muscles, the addictive line of his jaw that trails all the way down to his collarbone—

you don’t notice your choice of words until geto uses that chance to fluster you instead.

“it’s just what?” he’s all up in your personal space like he was earlier before pulling away — a quiet, chilling tension that sends your hairs standing, left arm going behind your seat to park his car perfectly in the lot. his jawline is accentuated by how he turns behind to reverse (he hopes parking effortlessly would get you to like him more); suguru’s good at always making you want more, you realise that.

“cute.”

you’re mumbling and once he’s got the car in, his arm comes back round, a teasing hand pressed up to his ear. “what was that, hm?”

and maybe you were wrong to think he was being a decent person among the sneers and mockery of the crowd earlier, and you frown, thinking if you’d really want to entertain him. there’s a dilemma in you: what if he was just like the others, the loud, cocky ones who only ever cared about their cars? suguru looked just like the part, too, and if you weren’t careful, you’d probably end up being a trophy piece for him to bring around.

you just sigh. “thank you for driving me, geto-san.” it’s rigid as you say it, an inner turmoil within you; you hope it doesn’t show.

and he immediately regrets his silly question. he doesn’t blame you for standing your ground especially after the whole spectacle before the race started, watching in defeat as you slam the door to his Mazda a little harshly. hurriedly his eyes dart around the dashboard for paper, messily scribbling down an apology together with his number, along with some cash — he did promise to treat you to something in that cafe, but he was confident you’d want nothing to do with him; for now, anyway.

“hey, i’m uh— i’m sorry. it was out of line, enjoy the event, ’kay?” geto genuinely looked sorry, a sheepish smile spreading across his face and he hurries away before you can say anything. he’s lamenting over it upon returning, talking to gojo who could barely care and nanami who’s zoning out, about how you looked so innocent and stunning by simply sitting in his car.

and you? you’ve resorted to telling yourself how you’d only send a message to the mysterious number only after getting back home, after a shower, paper creased and unintelligible at some point that you almost typed in a ‘6’ in place of an ‘8’.

you’ve broken your own rule already once you’re stepping foot into your home because your finger immediately opens the empty chat, hovering over the button to send the message you’ve drafted two hours ago. your heart pounds and you feel dizzy — you never wanted to die so bad before.

suguru’s mood remains sour until later in the evening where an unknown number texts him with a faceless photo of a cup of cinnamoroll cappuccino and a crème brûlée with cinnamorll’s face on the caramelised sugar. he knows it’s you from the outfit you wore earlier and geto can’t help but smile, dwelling on what he could say to you that wouldn’t sound stupid.

god, geto was a racer. he was supposed to be cool and a natural at flirting, but he can’t believe he’s already deleted his drafted message for a fifth time, not noticing how you fluctuate between being online and off, too.

he doesn’t answer you like an idiot because while you’re nervous over the simple text, geto wants to tear his hair out — until he gets an idea; he’s off the bed in a minute, hastily grabbing his leather jacket and putting his hair into a bun.

eventually he manages to say something that sounds nonchalant.

[19:23, geto → UNKNOWN]: enjoy your cinnamoroll coffee?

suguru waits patiently when you type and stop, and type and stop, and he uses that time to sprint to his Mazda and to speed to a close-by 7-eleven. he was sure to find some sanrio merchandise in the store, face lighting up when he comes across a mediocre cinnamoroll keychain — and after a small battle with himself he also adds a duo berry and cherry keychain to the pile — he just needed to figure out when to give it to you.

a notification interrupts his daydreams.

[19:29, UNKNOWN → geto]: better without you here

he knows you’re joking with the way you send a sticker after.

[19:30, UNKNOWN → geto]: but thank you for the treat.

and for driving me

and for the number

geto chuckles, paying and leaving the store before he lets out a breath.

[19:31, geto → UNKNOWN]: want to come out for a drive? i really want to apologise for earlier

and every doubt ceases to exist, your contemplation ending right there, head snapping to your clock to look at the time. if you could get dressed fast enough—

[19:31, geto → UNKNOWN]: and also i just… want to get to know you

i’ll meet you at that same parking lot where we met. i’ll wait for you, okay?

—you could see the mysterious, brooding racer again. despite your outburst, you couldn’t deny the adrenaline you felt sitting in his car, bickering over which character was better, seeing the raise of his eyebrow on his attractive face. you don’t trust yourself to type anything else so you simply send a thumbs up emoji, jumping up to get ready in the darkening and freezing tokyo landscape.

shouting out an excuse, you bid goodbye to your parents and race out the door, white wisps of your hot breath appearing as you reach the car park in record time, seeing him nervously leaning against his Mazda. you smile. seems like you weren’t the only fidgety one.

“how’re you doin’?” geto clears his throat, but you just grin, getting into his passenger seat. the tips of your fingers tingle, you hoped the adrenaline would help you even a little.

“you called me out because you want to show off, right?” that loosens suguru a little, letting out a laugh at your unexpected comment.

“sure did.”

the next hours are spent speeding through the streets of shibuya, with you scared out of your mind at first. but when geto looks over to you with a blinding smile, you ease into his leather seats, slowly getting used to his sharp and precise turns.

geto is focused on drifting on specific turns, smile fading into a serious expression as he slams on the break and changes gear, steering the wheel sharply and you find yourself staring freely, a smile tugging on your lips at how so damn good he looked at the moment.

the night ends up with letting you try out the car for a bit, and even geto is surprised at himself because his RX-7 was something he cherished deeply, but to let someone try it was beyond him. he’s laughing with you, telling you that drift racers do not need to use turn signals and you burn in embarrassment, but other than that you have a good time, a quietness settling as he pulls up to your host home in japan.

“come to my next race?”

you bit your lip. you can’t lie, geto suguru is handsome as hell and you’re already hooked, unaware how the other wants you just as bad.

“sure thing, suguru.” the first name seems to catch him off-guard, even more so when you lean over the stick shift to peck his cheeks. 

geto spends the next five minutes touching the skin where you kissed it, the loud rev of his engine reflecting exactly how he felt.

geto suguru was a goner.

every text, every call, every outfit (by god, geto did not care about what he wore, until he got with you) was for you. geto suguru was the gentlest with you, always asking if you’re okay with whatever he does. a hand on your waist, a peck to your cheek. he eases into the relationship, a plethora of night races lined up in his roster since he didn’t want you to miss any classes. nor could you underperform, because if your grades weren’t up to standard, you’d be sent home — your actual home back in your country. it came easy, though, apart from the sneaky makeout sessions in between geto telling you you used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ in your essays.

“y’know you don’t have to wear it, right?” geto laughs, placing a kiss to your temple while your mouth twists at the shape of the miniskirt, gifted to you by his sister who had worn it in the same scene, too. your boyfriend only whistles when you place it to your front, hands tightening just a little around your waist when he sees just how short it is.

“so?” you emerge from the bathroom a little while later, his oversized shirt on you looking a bit weird with the miniskirt but his breath hitches when you pull the top up, admiring the way the miniskirt hugged your figure so well. “i’m not sure if i like it, su…”

“that’s cause you’ll need other sort of tops, baby,” geto simply smiles, beckoning you over with a hand. it’s criminal how easily you follow the gesture, moving to stand between his legs. his rough hands leave hot trails of fire along your thighs, inching dangerously close to your ass. “you’ll need,” an unsatisfactory kiss on the denim of your skirt, suguru frowns, “a crop top,” a kiss to your hip bone. “or maybe a halter,” a kiss to your other hip bone, “a tube top,” a kiss to your stomach, “or maybe even a cami?” the grin geto gives you is sickening sweet as he lists them off one by one, each kiss getting closer and closer, from your hands to your shoulders, until they finally reach your face and your heart is beating like you were in fucking seven minutes in heaven.

“how’d you know so much?” you’re twiddling with the hem of his oversized shirt.

geto exhales, placing a sweet kiss onto your lips, “when you’ve been racing underground for quite a bit… it’s easy to pick up on the fashion. but—” he melts all your worries away when he takes your cheeks in his hands, “but even if you weren’t dolled up, i’ll still be lookin’ at ya. you’d still be the prettiest girl in the room.”

“my prettiest girl.” suguru mumbles, getting lost in your lips again with a promise he’ll take you shopping the next day.

you ease into the miniskirts soon enough. though you don’t exactly abandon your old style, you also love the freedom of wearing teeny skirts with skin tight tops, legs and ass on display for all to see while geto simply smiles no matter what you wear. he thinks you look stunning either way.

“what do you think?” geto asks inwardly if you were really the same person who loved cinnamoroll, legs on display and safety shorts hugging your ass so well as you twirl around in your room — geto wasn’t opposed to just panties, either; he knows he can throw a decent punch. you’re donning the piece of apparel so well that he feels himself getting hard.

“i think my baby looks gorgeous,” suguru smiles, sauntering up to you before wrapping his bigger arms around your middle before coating your face and neck with kisses but your mind’s wandering into the gutter with how you can see both your figures in the mirror. you’re thinking just what it’ll be like to fog up the mirror with your shaky breaths as geto rams into you from behind, but you snap out of it before he notices, turning around in his embrace to land a kiss to his lips.

“a good luck kiss for my racer boy,” you giggle, hands getting lost in his hair. you’ve become more bold too, geto realises and he decides that maybe tonight he’ll have you before you leave to finish your university semester and his heart clenches at the thought of you leaving — six months is six months, after all. having to resort to facetimes and timezones and late night messages is the reality, but he’s willing to try.

if it’s you, he’ll try.

one thing led to the next; it was your miniskirt riding up your legs, it was the way you ran up to him after he wins, jumping into his arms knowing these were your last few days together. just like how you were obsessed with geto suguru, he was besotted with you.

“is this okay with you, (y/n)?” the way he says your name has you wishing he would do it over and over in that pleading voice of his — it’s just the first of many.

“you’ll be taking my first, suguru.” you mumble out as his lips trail from your jaw to neck, and it makes him freeze. maybe you shouldn’t hav—

“you want me to be your first?” geto asks breathlessly, like he’s been told he won the lottery. he couldn’t believe how you’ve been untouched this whole time, yet your sultry gazes and untamed hips say otherwise.

“you’re such a little minx, teasing me and shit, but you haven’t lost your virginity?” his fingers caress your cheek and you preen at his tone, leaning into his touch. 

you hum and smile, “i never lose.” and you giggle when he laughs, capturing your lips in another kiss. the playful mood fades into the prior one, feeling the other get rougher with his kiss while his hands start to wander more.

“tell me to stop whenever and i’ll stop, okay, sweetheart?” you nod, squishing his face in your hands.

“i’ll be okay, su,” you grin before wrapping your legs around his pelvis, pulling him onto your needy cunt. he’s already hard, a dark spot forming at where his tip was. “i’ll be okay, especially when i fuck myself thinking it’s your cock.”

suguru’s jaw drops just a bit and he craves you even more by then, flipping up your skirt and pressing kisses along your thigh. he was determined to wipe the sick little grin off your face. he was determined to make you cum so hard you’d regret teasing him at all.

you hardly have any attitude for him once his tongue meets your pulsing clit and groans into your core, licking an experimental stripe up your folds. “better than your fingers?” suguru grins when he glances up and all he can see is your head thrown back, a subtle nod that’s got him back into feasting. he alternates between flicking your bud and sucking harshly, his calloused hands that you always admired around the steering wheel are now on your thighs, spreading them apart when you start to close them. by now your skirt’s soaked from how wet your pussy is, mewling and whining for your lover for more.

“you taste so fuckin’ good,” geto mumbles into your folds, giddy on the tangy sweetness of your juices that he has to reach down to squeeze his cock, “my girlfriend’s pussy tastes so good.”

“f-fuck… suguru don’t stop—” in the large bedroom, it’s filled with moans from you and the lewd sounds of your pussy, which escalate into a shriek when he’s suddenly pushing you up, weight transferred onto your shoulders and neck, not before making sure you have a pillow under you. “su—!”

“oh— ooh shit!” geto easily manhandles you as he props you up, your body bent uncomfortably while your hips continue to buck in his mouth and you aren’t sure where your legs go. it gives him better access to your cunt as he dips his tongue into your hole, nose nudging into your clit while you’re clutching onto his forearms for balance; his front supports you perfectly. geto’s onyx eyes bore into yours when he eats, moaning softly when he feels you clench around his tongue.

“you close?” he commits you to memory: how your toes curl and your stomach contracts. how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he feels so tense too, cock twitching in his underwear that it’s begging to be in you. “my baby’s g’nna cum, hm?”

“y-yes— ’m close mmf...” you can hardly manage a nod, moans escaping in between one worded sentences and you’re sure your legs are shaking from how good geto was giving it to you. with the hands that spread you out, one goes to your nipple to pinch it while the other plays with your clit, pressing and rubbing on it and a choked suguru leaves your lips.

“cum,” the one word has so much command over you, paired with the ministrations he was so skilled at that you’re clenching around air when you reach your high, euphoria crashing down on you with how you see white and your body feels tired already. “that’s my pretty girl, god, you’re cumming s’much.”

it takes awhile for you to come down from your orgasm, but despite your fatigue you already find yourself wanting more when you shoot geto a grin, heart fluttering at how he massages your thighs and bring you back down.

“you okay?” geto mumbles, pecking your knee softly, inwardly smiling at the way your legs still jolt and shake at your climax, “got my princess shakin’ and all.”

you giggle before you’re pulling him toward you, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, jumping a little when geto slips in a finger easily. you’re easily moaning into the kiss, reeling from just how one finger feels in you, slipping in so easily just how soaked your cunt was. 

gotta prep you for me, ‘kay? he whispers against your lips before a second goes in and you have to break the kiss to whimper. relax, baby, suguru’s voice is so intoxicating that you’re doing the exact opposite. you’re so tight that geto has to take a moment, imagining what you’ll feel like around him, but it’s not long before you’re begging for more that he starts moving his fingers into your cunt.

they are soft, gentle on you that you’re already tugging on his waistband, swallowing geto’s chuckle and comment about just how eager you are. in that bedroom, you’ve gotten him on his knees just by existing, pussy still drooling and your body contorted in such sensuality that he’s already worshipping you unconsciously. you gasp a little when he finally removes his underwear, eyes fixated on the pretty dick he’s got in his hand, leaking so much pre-cum just from eating you out. he makes quick work to grab a condom out from his bedside drawer.

“i’ll make it fit. gotta relax, yeah?” he hums into your skin before he rolls the condom over his cock as you watch, impatient. along with some lube, he smears your juices around with his tip, relishing in how you squeeze his forearms.

and when geto suguru sinks into you for the first time, tip nudging past your folds and stretching you out at first, a long whine leaves you just as geto groans out because you’re so warm inside that it’s got him dizzy. your eyes try to flutter close but geto mumbles that he wants to see how good he makes you feel, body hovering over yours like it’s forbidden. but he knows if he sinks into you with the feel of your tits on him, he wouldn’t last.

“s’big, suguru— ah!” eyes struggling to stay open, your arms hang around his neck, the feel of the rubber in you not entirely pleasant but suguru hitting all your spots is enough to make up for it. you’re just dripping and dripping non-stop that it leaks right down to the sheets before the other bottoms out in you, a teasing grin on his face. “told ya it could fit.” the stretch is borderline painful, and like a good boyfriend, he waits for a few to get you accustomed.

you roll your eyes with a soft smile, taking deep breaths before you feel like you could handle him, “move, please…”

“gettin' to it, my love,” geto’s cock is so big you swear you can feel him in your stomach, mouth dropping open when he moves slowly, grunting at your clamping hole, “i don’t think i can last long, baby.”

you breathlessly laugh, “yeah, me e-either.” your back arches off the bed as suguru starts to find a pace, thighs already burning from the taut pull of his muscles, something he’s done unconsciously because of how divine your cunt felt. with a hand you’re rubbing at your clit, evident it’s your first time when your hips are already bucking in mini shockwaves, sucking in his length that it’s not long before you’re moving your pelvis to meet his.

there’s the squelching noises of your pussy and little pants leaving you, pussy already convulsing around him with the release of the twist in your stomach. you’re clenching as you cum hard on his cock and it drives the other crazy, the tightness of your entrance that restricts his movement that he settles for short thrusts just to orgasm, spilling heavy loads of cum into the condom. geto groans into thin air, hips stuttering and pulling out incase there’s a rip in the rubber. it’s obvious you’re still unfamiliar with each other’s body in such an intimate setting, stuttered apologies and cleared throats, but soon geto’s leaning down to lock lips with you to quell the first-time awkwardness.

“was that okay? are you hurt anywhere?” you shake your head with a smile.

“that was more than okay, suguru,” you’re sleepy from the race, from the late night, and it’s clear all you want is sleep. it’s clear when you melt into suguru’s embrace and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest when you find his hand to twine your fingers together, with his other one rubbing your thigh affectionately.

geto feels that same feeling paired with a certain dread when two weeks later you’re kissing him goodbye at the airport, pink luggage in hand while your nose starts to redden a little. you always know what to say, slowly getting used to geto’s habits. a huff when he’s annoyed, or a quick furrow of his eyebrows when he’s distraught. “it’s not the end of the world, baby.”

suguru only pouts, hands caressing your sides just outside the departure gate. “i know, i just— six months?” 

“you’ll survive,” you smile softly, brushing the bangs from his face, “you did it before me.”

“i know, but now that i’ve known you, you’re all i think about,” geto huffs, “i…”

there’s many more things he wants to say, how he’ll be sure to keep your things until you return, how thankful he is that you (willingly!) gave him an underwear of yours, how he struggles to breathe just seeing your name. he just hopes you’ll miss him just as much, but he restrains himself knowing your flight’s in an hour.

“you’re all i think about, too,” you mumble and swallow uncomfortably, ashamed to have tears already brimming at your eyes, “i’ll come right back after i finish the sem, alright?”

“i’ll hold you to that.” geto smiles, although it’s laced with a sadness, kissing you softly one last time and bearing himself for the countless texts and video calls to your foreign number. you both can taste the salt in your tears, sniffling like a lovesick fool at the immense feelings you have for this man.

love. you haven’t even said the words yet.

as the racer watches you pass through the departure doors, he gives one last glance to the cherry keychain hanging off your carry-on, giving a similar longing glance to the matching berry one on his bag.

geto leaves the airport before anyone can see the wetness in his eyes, too.

#anon #asks #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen getou #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #suguru geto smut

[hysteria-things]

SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic

[huramuna]

foxfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in. 

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head. 

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold. 

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a fox, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him. 

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be. 

And so it shall be. 

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children. 

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was. 

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late. 

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice. 

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet. 

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you. 

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot. 

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.” 

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.” 

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders. 

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him. 

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there. 

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him. 

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head. 

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it. 

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–” 

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough. 

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing

[wandafiction]

Jealous

Warnings 18+: Smut. Thigh Riding (R Receiving), Fingering (R Receiving), Oral (R Receiving), Top Wanda, Bottom Reader.

You can feel them all turn to look at you as you walk down the entrance steps to the Stark party that is being held in the tower. Yet you know they aren't looking at you, they are looking at the goddess of a woman who is standing on your left; her arm linked with yours. Her thigh length black dress, that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you know for sure her perfectly sculpted body is what people's eyes are feasting on. Her back is completely open for the world to see since the dress is a halterneck with the deepest v neck you've ever seen, it practically reaches the top of her belly button. 

You were in a simple grey suit that had been tailored to fit you perfectly. Of course Wanda loves the fact she could see your muscles outlined perfectly in the suit. Your eyes wander over her figure, as the rest of the party removes theirs, your eyes so focused on what you see you don't see Wanda turn her head to look at you. 

"My eyes are up here my love." Wanda uses the edge of her finger to lift your chin, your eyes meeting instantly as you smile softly at her. You are both a similar height, you being a couple inches taller so when Wanda lifts your chin you know you most definitely got caught staring.

"I know darling, I am simply admiring what is mine. You look so very sexy and ravishing and I believe everyone else in the room can see that too." You embrace the fact she caught you staring, and it makes a shy blush grow on her face and up to her ears; you love the way you still have that effect on her even after the 2 years you've been together. 

Wanda turns her head to look around the room as you bring your right cheek to rest on her right one as you turn your body facing away from everybody else in the room. As you see her eyes nervously flicking to all the different people and start fiddling with her rings.

"We don't have to stay long, just 30 minutes and if you say the word we can leave." You move to stand in front of Wanda, your hands rubbing up and down her arms and you see her relax. 

"Do you think it is too much?" She gestures to the dress, looking down as her hands run down the skirt. Copying Wanda's actions you lift her chin with your finger and thumb. 

"If it is making you uncomfortable darling then don't be afraid to change, but it's not too much in my eyes. Well maybe it is too much cloth to be on you and the way you are wearing it. It would look so much better on the floor, while I have your hands tied to the bed." You smile when you see Wanda flush red her hand coming into contact with your chest as you chuckle. 

"Don't start. We are here for our friend. It's Nat and Maria's engagement party so no funny business." You raise a brow and Wanda hits your chest giving you a pointed look. "We are celebrating with them, clothes on, on the dance floor with drinks in our hands."

"Of course M'lady." You turn back around to face the room full of people holding your arm out so Wanda can hook hers around yours. 

"I love you. And you look very sexy as well my love. Handsome even, the suit just makes you look very dapper."

"Shall we." You gesture to the room who are finally back to concentrating on the party. 

"We shall." 

♤♡◇♧

"Who's that grinding up on your wife?" Wanda, turns to see who Yelena is pointing to.

“Firstly, she hasn’t put a ring on it yet. Secondly, I think her name is Daisy. She knows Phil and Phil is a good friend of Maria’s. I've only seen her once or twice before.” Wanda’s eyes trained on the two of you as Daisy pushes her back against your front, you keeping your hands to yourself showing no interest but also not pushing her away and wanting to seem rude.

“Well she is all up on your girl there Wanda. Aren’t you going to do something about it.” Wanda takes a quick glance at Yelena before looking back to see Daisy has now turned around and is whispering in your ear.

“What am I meant to do, go over there and act like the crazy girlfriend that drags her away. No. I am not doing that. Anyway, I can see from here Y/n isn’t interested but Daisy just isn’t reading the signals.” Wanda tries to shrug it off but can’t help the pang of jealousy that courses through her when she sees you laughing at something Daisy says.

“You know, I always thought you would be the controlling one in the relationship but now I see it for what it is.” Wanda’s head turns on a swivel to see Yelena smirking at her.

“Oh yeah, what’s that then.” Wanda raises a brow in question.

“I reckon you're just a big ole pillow princess and Y/n treats you like royalty.” Wanda chokes on her drink a little, causing Yelena to laugh. “I take that as a yes then.”

“No, not at all.” Yelena gives her a look and Wanda sighs. “Okay so it’s mostly true but I have my moments.”

“Oh yeah?” Yelena knew what she was doing, spurring Wanda on, she was in on your plan. You wanted to see how far you could push Wanda and how she would react. When you told Yelena she only wanted to add to the plan knowing that if she said the right things Wanda would react. 

Wanda stays silent for a minute, turning back to look at you, her eyes trained on your hand that is now holding Daisy’s as you spin her under her arm. Wanda misses the smirk Yelena sends your way when you look over to the two of them, and you definitely don’t miss the way Wanda clenches her jaw. Wanda watches as you lean down to whisper into Daisy’s ear, the latter’s eyes move to look directly at Wanda as she laughs at whatever you have told her. Daisy’s hands snake around your neck, you doing nothing to stop it, pulling your body closer as your hands hover over her waist; not quite touching it. Yelena’s eyes flick between you and Wanda, as she watches Wanda re-position herself to get a complete view of your antics.

You take a risk by placing your hands on Daisy’s waist, spinning her around so her back is against your front and her hands hold onto the back of your neck. You bend down, placing your cheek against Daisy’s as her head tilts back to rest on your shoulder. Wanda sees you throw your head back as you laugh, but her eyes are trained on the way yours and Daisy’s hips move together with the music. Wanda turns around placing her drink on the table, standing up as she straightens out her dress. Yelena’s hand on hers stops her from storming over, her brows scrunching when she sees Yelena’s smirk.

“So is this one of those moments?” Wanda takes a few seconds to register what Yelena was asking, but as soon as she remembers the conversation they were just having she does a quick nod.

“It is.” Yelena simply smirks more as she lets go of her hand and watches as Wanda heads towards the dance floor.

“Good luck Y/n.” Yelena whispers to herself as she downs the rest of Wanda’s drink, not wanting the alcohol to go to waste. 

Wanda catches Daisy's eye as the latter spins around to face you, smiling at you with a small curtsey as she leaves you alone. Before you even get a chance to turn around to meet the eyes of your girlfriend, her front is pressed to your back and her hands land on your hips. She pulls your hips left to right in time with hers, as she gets a rhythm going with the music, one of her hands moving to untuck your shirt. Her hand snakes under your shirt moving up to your abs where she starts gently scratching at them, her other hand keeping your hips against hers. Wanda moves her head so her lips are pressed against your right ear, your head tilting to the side slightly, as she drags her hand from your waist to gently hold your throat putting no pressure on it but you can feel her skin on yours. 

"You're being naughty darling." She squeezes your neck slightly, your head tilting back to rest on her shoulder as a gasp passes your lips; a shiver going down your spine. You move a hand to hold the back of Wanda’s neck, the other holding onto the back of her thigh.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You act coy and in response Wanda pulls your ear between her teeth as her nails scratch at your abs.

“You’re mine and only mine.” 

Before you can even reply Wanda uses her power to teleport the two of you to your room where she pushes your back against the door, her lips ghosting the skin of your neck, her hot breath causing goosebumps to form and you feel her smirk at the sight. You gasp as Wanda suddenly sinks her teeth into your pulse point, sucking on the spot before soothing it with her tongue the whine that leaves your lips surprises the both of you. 

“Oh, do you like that darling? Do you like it when I mark you, to show everyone you belong to me?” She flicks her wrist and both of your clothes are suddenly on the floor behind her, Wanda chuckling into your neck as she feels your hands grip tightly onto her hips. 

Your right hand moves up to grip her hair as you pull on it to tilt her head back, a small moan leaving her lips at the roughness. You bring your lips down to her ear, her hands moving to hold onto your waist as she pushes her thigh between yours and you start rolling your hips against it. You moan Wanda’s name directly into her ear, earning a moan of yours in return as you lean your head back against the door, your hips picking up speed as the pressure on your core from her thigh is working wonders in building up your arousal.  

“What do you want from me detka? Tell me what you want.” Wanda uses her hands on your waist to stop you from moving against her thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the loss as you look into her lust filled eyes wanting to wipe that playful smirk off her face.

“I want you to claim me.”

“Fuck yourself on my thigh and I will decide if you deserve to cum with the strap.” Wanda keeps her hands on your hips, pressing her body against you more to trap you between her and the door as you start to roll your hips as she pushes her thigh back up to your core.

“Fuck.” Your hands move up her body to snake around Wanda’s neck pulling her face into your neck where she starts to nip and bite at the skin leaving a small trail of blue and purple bruises as you grind your core against her thigh.

“You’re doing so well for me baby.” Wanda breathes into your ear as a pool of wetness starts building up, as your core continues to roll against her thigh.

“I need…” Your words are interrupted by a moan as Wanda’s hands pull your hips down, tensing her thigh as she takes control of your movements for a few seconds moving your hips roughly as you moan her name again.

“What do you need, detka?” Wanda smirks into your neck as you move one of your hands down her body, grabbing ahold of hers and bringing it down to your core. She moves her thigh away from your core, but before you can complain she immediately replaces it with her hand but she doesn’t move; the teasing smirk on her face tells you all you need to know.

“I need you to fuck me.” You gasp as Wanda uses two fingers to press against your clit, starting to roll the sensitive bundle of nerves softly. “More….please….Wanda I need more.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. What did I say?” She moves her lips back up to your ear as her fingers run through your folds, her thumb now on your clit as she starts rolling her thumb against it. “Answer me detka what did I say?”

“Get myself off.” You bite your lips harshly, swallowing a moan, as her two fingers push into your entrance slowly and without warning. Wanda raises her eyebrow, waiting for you to finish your answer to her question. “Get myself off…on…your thigh.”

“And yet here I am with my fingers inside you.” She starts by pulling her fingers most of the way out and then harshly thrusting them back inside a loud moan leaving your lips. “I’m the one doing all of the work, now I think I'm going to have to punish you just a little for not listening. Maybe a little denial…Is that okay?”

You smile softly at the question knowing Wanda will never do anything without your consent, you move your hands up to cup her face as she continues to slowly pump her fingers in and out of you. You bring her lips to yours, brushing them against each other before gasping against them as she curls her fingers suddenly pressing against the spot she knows gets you going easily.

“It’s more than okay.” You press your lips against hers in a heated kiss, Wanda swallowing your moans as she continues to curl her fingers inside you. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

She pulls her fingers completely out of you, a loud whine being pulled from you making Wanda chuckle once again as she drags her tongue from your ear all the way back down to your pulse point, the spot already sensitive from her nibbling at it earlier but when she once against nibs and sucks at it you can’t help the guttural moan that passes your lips. Your eyes roll to the back of your head a loud moan, almost a scream, leaving you mouth agape as Wanda slams three fingers into your core, her thrusts quick and rough; your back arching away from the door at the intrusion. 

Your hands move up to hold onto her shoulders to support yourself as your body rocks against the door at her harsh thrusts, you gasps and moans getting louder as you get closer and closer to toppling over the edge. Just as your walls start to clench around Wanda’s fingers she pulls them out and removes her thumb from your clit, a desperate whine passes your lips as your head tilts forward and you rest your forehead against Wanda’s.

“Please baby. I was so close. I want to cum. Please make me cum.” You never really begged but you know how much it will get Wanda riled up and get you what you want, and you smirk to yourself when you hear the moan leave her lips telling you your plan has worked. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything but instead trails her lips trail down your neck all the way to your left breast, nipping and sucking at every inch of skin as she goes, not caring about how many marks she leaves on you. It’s not like you are against it either, your hand moving back into Wanda’s hair as her lips wrap around your left nipple, her teeth grazing gently over the already hardened bud. Using your grip in her hair, you pull her against you more and she sucks gently one the nipple as her left hand moves up to massage your neglected breast, her thumb and finger rolling over your other nipple. A moan leaves your mouth at the stimulation as Wanda pulls away with your nipple in her mouth releasing it with a pop before trailing kisses to the valley of your breasts sucking on the side of the right one leaving yet another mark.

“Mine.” She moans against your skin as she takes your right nipple into her mouth, her left hand moving to your hip as her right one takes the other breast and starts to massage it making sure they both get attention. 

Once she is satisfied with the attention she has given to your breasts she moves down to sit on her knees, her chin resting on your right hip as she looks up at you from below; your hand still in her hair as the other one rests against the door. Her hands trail up and down the back of your thighs, moving up to your butt and giving it a small squeeze causing your back to arch away from the door for only a second. Her right hand snakes up and around to your stomach pushing you back against the door as her left hand lifts your right thigh over her shoulder then her arm wraps around the top of it to keep it in place. 

Her lips trail up the inside of your thigh before pressing a feather light kiss to your lips, your head hitting the door as the pit in your stomach only grows, the pleasure turning towards the point of pain. It’s as if Wanda sense the shift in your breathing the way you let out a small whimper causes her to smirk against your thigh, but she knows your body just as well as you do maybe even more because the moment her tongue licks through your folds a guttural moan leaves your lips and you pull her closer to you using the grip you have on her hair. 

She moans into your core at the rough hair pull, her fingers digging into your thigh as her other hand scratches down your toned stomach. She rolls your clit with her tongue, tilting her head back slightly so she can look up at you seeing your chest move rapidly with your heavy breaths, small moans leaving your lips mixed with her name once in a while. She lets her teeth graze against your sensitive clit, your grip in her hair tightening causing her to groan in pain but you know that it only turns her on more so you do it again this time tilting your head to look down at her. 

In retaliation she pulls her mouth away from your core breathing cool air onto your sensitive clit and you gasp as your hips roll, your core touching nothing but thin air. Wanda chuckles to herself before bringing her mouth back up to your core, her tongue dancing around your entrance before deciding that she has teased you enough pushing the strong muscle into your entrance. Her hand that is on your thigh moves up towards your core, her thumb stroking the inside of your leg as she does so. 

Your moans and sighs of pleasure echo around the room as she continues to push her tongue inside you, your back defiantly arching away from the door, her hand on your abdomen doing nothing to stop the movement. When she feels your walls start to flutter and your moans turn silent, your mouth falling open in a pleasurable grimace she presses her thumb against your clit. You crash head first into a blistering orgasm, your body completely coming away from the door as your free hand holds onto the door frame as you see stars and you lose all feeling for a few seconds. 

With your eyes closed and no control over your rapidly beating heart and sore lungs you feel the lightest of touches slowly creeping up your body, then to your neck, along your jaw and finally to your lips. It takes you a few seconds to return the kiss, your mind still recovering from the orgasm Wanda had just given you, removing your hand from her hair you use it to brush the baby hairs off your own forehead. Your eyes flutter open as Wanda’s lips travel around your face, leaving small pecks along your cheeks, eyes, nose and forehead as you slowly recover. When you finally manage to open your eyes you smile at the sight of Wanda holding you steadily against the door with a soft smile on her face.

“Are you okay?” All you can do is nod, but it is confirmation enough for her. “Let's get you cleaned up and in bed, you must be worn out.” 

You don’t say anything but allow Wanda to pull you into the ensuite, sitting you down on the toilet seat as she grabs some towels and places them on the sink. She makes her way back over to you, bending down in front of you with her hands on your knees. You smiley goofily, the last of the fuzziness in your brain still slowly fading. 

“Do you want a bath or shower?” You hold up two fingers, still not trusting your voice and Wanda giggles as she stands up hoisting you up with her and making sure that your legs stop wobbling before pulling you towards the shower. 

Using her magic she opens the shower door and turns it on so both of her hands can stay on your waist keeping you up. Once the steam starts filling the shower she gently pulls you under the warm stream of water. You let out a relaxed sigh as your head tilts backwards letting the water run down the front of your neck and body. Wanda’s hands leave your body for a second, her magic replacing them as she grabs the bottle of moisturising body wash. Her magic pushes you out of the water slightly, but the steam is doing enough to keep you warm. Your eyes close at the feeling of wanda’s hands back on your skin as she gently massages at your thighs, helping to release some of the tension that has built up in them. Your head flops forward onto her shoulder as she stands in front of you, her hands now moving up the side of your body and around to your back.

“Nearly done baby, and then we can head to bed.”

“Mkay, I love you.” Wanda smiles softly, not that you could see it as you bury your head into the crook of her neck as she drags you both back under the water, the soap running off your body as her hands weave through your hair. She chooses to leave the hair washing, knowing you washed it before the party, but continues the act of weaving her hands through your hair knowing how it relaxes you and practically turns you docile. 

Once she has deemed you cleaned and cared for she pulls you out of the shower, once again using her magic to turn the shower off and wrap your towels around you. As she pulls you into the bedroom the magic dances around your bodies and towels drying you off, and braiding your hair so it doesn’t annoy you in your sleep. Your body practically falls into bed when you feel the edge of it touch your knees, Wanda giggling as she pulls the covers from under your body and turning you on your back so she can gently lay on top of you.

“Is this okay?” She asks quietly knowing you might still be sore and sensitive that her being on top of you may be uncomfortable. 

“Perfectly so.” Her head finds home in the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around her torso pulling her closer, her legs either side of your waist as you both get comfortable. 

“Thank you for playing along.” You move a hand up and down her bare back, gently scratching at her skin as she whispers between the two of you. 

“Well you said you wanted to be top for once and I wanted to see what a jealous you could be like.” You tilt your head to peck her forehead as she sighs in content. 

“How was a jealous me?”

“Definitely want to see more of her.” Wanda leans up slightly to look down at you, her eyes flicking left to right as she looks into yours.

“Does this mean I might get to take control more often?”

“We will just have to see how things play out won't we babygirl?” A smirk plays on your lips as Wanda’s pupils dilate at the pet name. “I think I should reward you for making me feel so good. What do you say?”

“I would say you're tired.” She tries to sound authoritative but her voice is breathy and it only makes you smirk more. “And I just did the whole aftercare thing.”

“Well I'm wide awake and who said that i have to move a muscle.” 

Wanda raises a questioning eyebrow, your hand slowly snakes up her back to her neck and you pull her face down towards yours. You take her bottom lip between her teeth watching her eyes darken as they look into yours. You release her lip with a pop, your hand moving to the front of her neck where you apply a small amount of pressure. 

“Why don’t you grab your favourite strap for me so I can watch you fuck yourself on it.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #jealousy

[divinehedons]

godless promethean, elektran rage.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: pirate!joel miller x siren!reader

word count: ~8.4k words (I KNOW I'M SO SORRY)

summary: when the wrath of poseidon brings in something not quite human, a hardened pirate with the harshness of a soldier at war faces a bright-eyed siren with the delusion of a dreamer.

warnings: this is a DARK, EXPLICIT fic. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT or i will BLOCK you. so much plot, pirate!au, siren!au, joel is a violent motherfucker, reader is a metamorphic creature that turns human-like when not submerged in water, graphic depiction of violence and injury, mentions of abduction and implications of abuse, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, soooo much murder. it's like a greek tragedy without the incest.

note: THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS!!! much of this work was inspired by me rereading the odyssey by homer, but the trope of joel x siren!reader is not of my own making! thank you so much for reading, and as always, comments and reblogs are much apprciated!

Be strong, saith my heart. A wave crests over the hull of the ship. Then another. And another. I have seen worse things than this. Synchronized hands haul the rope for the sails, a last attempt to regain control of their vessel. The Balkan sea stretches before weary sailors, endless and unforgiving, with one foot in their watery grave and the other clawing to live.

In the midst of this carnage is The Flounder, harbinger of chaos, populated by a crew of men who pillage, murder, and destroy anything that gets in their way. Joel once thought of him and his men as indestructible. The Wrath of Poseidon makes him reconsider otherwise.

“Goddamnit, Bonnie, we’re never gettin’ out of this mess!” Joel yells over the deluge of rain, tightening his grip and growling as the rope digs in to the skin of his palms. He sees another wave crest over them, sturdy as a wall, coming down upon their shivering backs, leaving them spluttering out seawater. He coughs momentarily, heaving in air as he digs his feet into the deck.

When he regains his breath, he hears his name being called. He looks, their Captain bellowing from where he steered. His new orders came through in the middle of the crack of thunder and the whistle of an unending storm. Check beneath the deck for damages. Fix anything that could sink them. He calls for someone to replace his hold and he runs for it. 

In his head, he had begun to pen a letter back to his waiting daughter under the care of his brother. Dear Sarah, he thinks, climbing down the ladder and finding himself in knee-deep, ice-cold water. I promised you that this will be my last expedition. That after this, we shall live out however you want us to. I only hope that I can live up to that promise. He cusses under his breath when he finds a growing leak in the hull, crossing himself as he immediately went about to fix it temporarily with what materials he could find. You’re safer with your uncle Tommy than here in this misery. And should anything happen to me, know that I love you and I trust you to be good to him, too. He crosses the threshold to see if there was anything else, moving across floating bottles, bobbing up and down with remnants of booze. With a sigh, isolated from the chaos above deck, he leans against a column, grabbing a drifting bottle and swallowing down the booze to settle his nerves.

I grow old, I grow old. He mouths the words under his breath. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

The muffled sounds of the world melts away as he tries to catch his breath, gritting his teeth from the ache in his hips. Getting too old for this. He tries to think of a way that rest can be comfortable in this mess. Sleep, he thinks, delicious and profound. The very counterfeit of death.  It is only when his nerves settle that he hears it.

A splash in the common room. Too loud to be some drifting object. Something that continues to move against the motion of the ship between the waves. He stills himself, the empty bottle slipping between his fingers. Slowly, he moves closer to the source of the sound, like a predator stalking his prey in the darkness. He retrieves a drifting harpoon, peeking through the threshold of the room to inspect. In the semi-darkness, interrupted by the flickering of lanterns and dying candelight, he catches the shimmer of something alive. He raises his weapon, looks through his good eye, his brows crinkling at the effort to focus.

Too old and too goddamn blind for this shit.

He blinks a few times more before he finally sees. And what he sees is you.

Your lithe arms reaching against the walls of the ship, trying to find a weak link that could let you escape. Were you brought in by the waves? Were you the very thing responsible for the leak he just had to fix? Initially, Joel made the movement to speak, to ask how you had ended up here—the sea is no place for a maiden like you. But his breath hitches when he looks closer to see… well, you. The incandescent flickering of a scaled tail, blending with inhuman yet somewhat human skin around your hips, and your upper body, glorious, unmarked, and completely fucking naked.

Perhaps it was the months at sea, conversing with no one but the same crew of men who, despite their intelligentsia and capabilities, do not exactly have the looks capable of producing in him the flustering exhilaration of some teenager. But he, of all people, know of the stories, too. The whispers shared in the saloons in the darkness. The shared thrill and excitement of such beauty and danger lurking beneath the temptresses’ skins. He has heard of claws coming for his companions’ throats, have heard of the trickery they can cause with the power of the ocean entirely at their disposal. He thinks of Odysseus again— tethered to the mast of his ship, The only one of his men to hear the voice of the sirens and have survived. Odysseus, who would have laid his life down  just to come close to the very presence of something so divine. 

Another thing he knows is that the price of one siren is half the bounty they had planned for. Months of work cut out for himself. Months closer to seeing his daughter again. It’s enough to give him the taste of freedom. His own little piece of heaven that, ironically, is someone else’s hell. The funny thing was, he does not feel guilt about it.

Perhaps he was not Odysseus. He was not as noble. Nor did he ever want to be. A noble character would never provide a good life for his Sarah, waiting for him oceans away.

That was the decision that sealed the creature’s fate before him. Without a second thought, he fires his harpoon, the sharp head piercing through the creature’s shoulder as an angelic wail emanates from her precious throat. With her pinned down, he had begun yelling, calling for the presence of men to see what they’ve caught in their vessel. Their ticket to riches. The honeypot herself.

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.

He swallows down the guilt as the thunder of heavy steps descend upon their victim, her screams only growing louder and louder amidst the exhilarated, disbelieving laughter of his companions. He does not dare to look. Does not dare to see those doe eyes of yours begging for respite, pulling him into your charms.

An eye of an eye. A good life for Sarah in exchange for hers.

Fair enough.

—-

When The Flounder has escaped the barrages of the storm, the sea is quiet. Some would even say peaceful. Joel wouldn't exactly use that word. Not when he hears your wails breaking the silence. That first night, no one understood what needed to be done. No one even bothered to try and treat your wound. The very wound he had caused. Everyone had something more important to do. Clear the seawater beneath the hull, secure the sails, have a quick meal, get a few winks of sleep. Naturally, the mythical being, as all other inconsequential things, were tucked away, you dealt with the usual brusque nature of men.

So when he had been called to watch you before dawn broke, that's what he set his mind to. Stepping down beneath the deck, with spare scraps of cloth and booze in hand. They've cleared out the flooding. But the wood hadn't dried completely. Mick, who he had passed beforehand, gave him a questioning look. "Aren't ya scared she'd rip your throat out?"

He scoffs, tilting his head to the side as he speaks. "I'm more scared of the stench she'll make if she starts dyin' on us, Micky."

What he did not expect when he opens the closet you've been locked in is the metamorphic cross between a tail and legs you kick out at him. What he hears next is the snarl, your body knocking him over, small, webbed hands slipping around his throat. “You asshole!” That same heavenly voice, filled with so much malice that does not fit with the angelic features towering over him. You speak in a language he does not understand, a torrent of words driven by so much emotion that he sees a glance of what Homer was so distasteful about. You could kill him, devour him bones and all and you wouldn’t even flinch.

However, he sees how your rage blinds you, too. Blinds you to his precise movements, making you think you’ve subdued him, only to suddenly flip your positions, pinning you down by your wrists, trying to look into your eyes.

What you see, staring up at him as your last yells escape you, is the strands of silver in his hair. What follows next is his tired eyes. A sea of stories that you feel as if you can almost hear them if the world is quiet enough. However, you cannot deny the warmth to them. The fire that you failed to see in the other men that shoved you in the closet you have been suffocating in. It’s what makes you stop in your struggle as you finally hear his voice.

“Damnit, let me help you, honey, c’mon…”

It’s then that Joel finally comprehends what he sees. You, a mythical being that shifts from merfolk in one instance, to a walking goddess in the next. Perhaps it was what helped your kind survive; camouflaging yourself and disappearing amidst throes of people. “You turn when ya… when…?”

You swallow, breathless and trembling as you grit your teeth. He sees the panic in your eyes, the idea that he can just betray you if he wanted to. If it would benefit him.

“Let me help you, darlin’.”

“W-when I’m…” You breathe in sharply. “When I’m not in water.”

He nods, slowly, watching the lithe legs and your bare body, spotless and perfect in every way. “I see.” He removes himself from you, moving away from your periphery. You gather your breath, turning over to see him, kneeling over an upturned washtub, somewhat filled with some form of water or another. “Those men up there? They can’t see you like this, otherwise…” he trails off, preferring not to picture what they’d do. What they’ve all once done before at sea. “Ya hear me?” He looks back at you, watching the way your hands gripped your bleeding shoulder wound, evidence of what he had already done to you. “You don’t know what else they can do to a pretty girl like ya.”

So, gently, he kneels beside you with a pained groan from the ache in his knees. You flinch under his touch and he gives you a stern look. “Why did you do this?”

He shakes his head, opening the bottle he brought down with him to pour it over the gaping flesh. Your soft fingers grip on to his arm, the softest whine escaping your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re not the only one fightin’ to survive in this world, honey.” He shushes you gently, moving to wrap what pieces of cloth he could find, using them to bandage your wound as you finally soften in his hold. He helps you into the tub, and he tries not to look into your eyes again.

You spoke again when he turned away, giving you the privacy he assumed you needed. “Just because you need to survive doesn’t mean I need it any less.” He stops in his tracks, looking down for a moment before clearing his throat. “Are men always this wretched? That one must tear down the innocent to survive?” He moves to answer, turning back momentarily, before sighing, turning back to continue cleaning up the mess. “Thank you, though. For… this.”

You know exactly how to describe it. You just don’t want him to hear it. The gentleness that comes, not in the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Joel hears the noise in his head, clouding his thoughts and drowning them out as he moves from one place to another.as he tries not to think about you, quiet in a tub of water, pretending to ignore him. Men are so quick to blame the gods…

He hands you a plate of scraps. The trimmings from a loaf of bread. A slice of some meat, and the last pieces of cheese he could find. “Eat,” he orders gruffly, moving to sit by the side of your tub, while he seats himself with a slice of bread. “Can’t have ya dyin’ of starvation either.”

You obey, weakened by the struggles of the evening, disheartened by your imprisonment, so close to freedom and at the same time so far away from it. You eat slowly, as if considering each little fragment you were handed, as if the world is unfamiliar in the presence of someone else.

Joel couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was your charm. Whatever it was, he started to tell you things.

He tells you of his life, so far away from the ocean, landlocked. He tells you how they make a living with animals. But he also tells you about Sarah. Sarah who dreamt of the world. Sarah who he was doing all this for. Sarah who asked him as a child to read to her every night. Sarah who was growing more and more with each passing day, the gap between the two of them becoming wider than he could ever comprehend.

“My survival may not mean much,” he says, “but hers is the most vital thing in my life, doll.”

He feels your gaze on him, becoming easier and easier to see as the sun slowly grows higher in the sky. In thirty minutes, his watch will end, and you do not know how the next man will treat you next. Will he be kind? Will he have Joel’s eyes?

He turns to leave, taking the plates with him as he stands up with a pained groan. “Don’t cause too much trouble, girl.” He only stops when you say his name, his gaze catching the blurry image of you, your tail sinking beneath you in the tub. “Yeah?”

“Will you read to me when you return?” you whispered, afraid to show fragility in your own internment.

He nods after a moment of thought, clambering up on deck to report back to the Captain.

Men are so quick to blame the gods.

—

For a while, a week or so, you believed things could be nice with Joel somewhat in your corner. Everyone else seemed to care less or cower in fear of you. Maybe because you do try to scare them away. At least, if you were going to be betrayed, it was Joel doing the betraying.

He returned at the same time just as he did the night before. And slowly, a routine emerges. He cleans your wounds, he feeds you whatever he finds. Then he reads to you. His eyes are too weak to read without you holding the lantern. So you learned that second night to emerge from your tub and to hold the lantern for him. He reads to you with the skilled words of a bard. He reads to you as if he’d read this tale before. Perhaps to Sarah? Perhaps to someone else?

You feel your stomach curdle at the thought of there being someone else in his life. You swallow down the bile and listen more closely.

When he leaves at dawn, you lie in the tub, dreaming of the words he had read to you, turning your back to the man that comes next. They do not bother you. You do not bother them. You become a ghost until he brings you to life.

Sing to me, Muse, of the Man of many wiles.

By the third night, he brings with him a blanket for you to wrap yourself in as you sit closer beside him, trying to follow the words he read, only to surrender because the letters are too rigid, too unnatural. You began shutting your eyes as he reads to you, learning of Odysseus, a once too familiar name you have heard in others of your kind before…

Sing to me, Muse, of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,My starting point is any point you choose.

You begin to talk to him too by the fourth night, observing your transformed toes as he hammered little areas he figured needed repairs. You tell him of the world beneath the waves, the languid distances you’ve traveled, never truly feeling as if you have found a home. You tell him, too, of wonders big and small.

You spoke of all these things, pretending to be unaware of the way he listens with such interest. It’s like you wanted him to be interested. How could you not, when night by night his eyes become warmer and warmer whenever they fell upon you? How could you not when he’s the only one that cared?

You try to read his thoughts, sometimes, when it’s quiet and he prefers to sit by himself, finding a few winks of sleep while you ate your food. He’s rather good at hiding them. You wonder if it makes his life easier. You wonder if any of it is easy for him.

Then he asks you something on his fifth watch.

“Is the whole singin’ thing somethin’ you actually do?”

You turn your head over your shoulder, setting down the snowglobe you’ve taken an interest in the last couple of hours. You saw it on a shelf this afternoon. And you had been impatient for Joel to arrive ever since. You consider the question, Then you smile and nod meekly.

“Do…” you pause, moving to face him instead. “Do you want to hear?”

He smirks, moving the chair closer to your seated frame, seating with the backing pressed to his front, legs straddling the seat, arms atop, covering that sliver of chest you had been sneaking glances from all evening. He had that thin linen shirt on again— the one that swoops down his chest. The one you see in your dreams.

“Only if it won’t kill me, sweet cheeks.”

You like that. Sweet cheeks. You barely understand what it means. You nod slowly, moving to lay on your back as you stare at the ceiling, monotonous and unchanged since you last looked. As you sing, you try not to look him in the eye. As if you cannot bear the sight of him seeing your capabilities and forever changing his perception of you. The hymn is warm, almost homely. A relentless Odyssey that means to take you home. A song that’s said to bring forth memories of home. You know Joel does not understand the language. Nor do you want him to. You won’t admit it, but you’re still terrified of what he could do if you remind him of how much he misses his home.

But what is even more surprising is this: instead of reminiscing about the tropics from which you have loved so deeply, all you can think about is him. All you can picture is his face. All you can see is possibilities of how he’s looking at you now.

When you finish, dawn is already breaking over the horizon. He has to go.

Quietly, you rose and slowly return to the tub with your snowglobe, watching as your body metamorphosizes— your last line of defense for survival. The shine of your scales so familiar, but never this clear under the water. The light is always so diffused— as distant as a foreign planet. Joel, on the other hand, stays there for a few minutes more, looking at the spot where you just were—at the plank of wood bearing the wet shape of your body. You started to think maybe he won’t leave when he swallows, rising from where he sat, and approaching you to hand the cheese he couldn’t eat from his portion of the meal.

“I quite enjoyed that,” he confesses, tucking the food into your palm. Just then, he encloses your hand in both of his, taking a moment to savor the feeling of your cool, changed skin against his. He wonders momentarily if you’ll feel different without your tail. “Thank you.”

He leans down, bringing your hand up to his waiting mouth, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. A shiver runs down your spine as you comprehend the sensation. His lips. How warm he is… the scruff of his beard against smooth skin. You feel him smirk against your hand, pulling away as he makes his way above deck.

And on your hand is the reddened skin that evidenced the smidgen of affection you were giving. And for now, it’s enough.

You turn your back to the world once more and into your own dream world, staring at your hand as you dream of Joel all morning long.

—

You suppose everything that goes around does eventually come around. You wonder why you're so optimistic. But, you supposed, just as things were getting better, the fates had other plans in store for you.

The call came just as you were coming of the stupor of sleep. From what you can tell, it was barely midday, and someone was yelling above where you resided. All hands on deck.

The thunderous noise of heavy feet trundle above head. The man watching you grumbled, muttering something along the lines of, "don't you dare think about running, li'l bitch."

You watch him slam the door, and curiosity gets the better of you. You rise slowly from the tub, slinking along the floor, struggling to lift yourself enough to peer out from one of the windows. But when you do, you've come to realize the gravest sin of your naivety.

There is a ship to be plundered. Slowly, the masks worn by the men where you are melt away. You see familiar men with their swords drawn, laughing maniacally, screaming and terrifying the ship they've found to appease their hunger.

You feel your body changing, and you begin to turn away from the window when you catch sight of silver hair and scruff. A visage that you finally see in broad daylight.

Joel is one of the men who almost seem to dance to the song of violence. Perhaps the stories were true. Perhaps the secrets of the shadows are laid bare in the light. Even Joel's secrets cannot escape the midday sun. When you see him, he is in battle with some toughened fisherman, their duel witnessed by cowering passengers and well-dressed women. For a moment, you think Joel will come to his senses, see how senseless all this violence is.

But then he takes the man by his hair, holding his head and facing him to the sun. His sword arches across the expanse of his victim's neck, rivulets of blood bursting forth in gush, an unstoppable stream. A squeal escapes you, the violent image burnt into the recesses of your brain, forcing you away from the window.

You run on shaky legs, screaming and yelling, reaching the doorway and attempting to push the door open, only to find resistance. Your fists pound the hard wood, your body pushing and shoving, unable to accept the fact that you can't call to him— show him that you saw and you demand an answer why.

For the first time, ever since Joel shot you with a harpoon, you truly understood something you tried so hard to ignore.

You sleep under the shelter of murderers. You think you felt affection from the hands of a man who just as easily took someone's life away. You are only loved because you're something else. Something not human.

You are only loved because you'll ensure their survival.

—

The blade itself incites the deeds of violence.

When the carnage ended, Joel raised his head to see the sky beginning to paint itself in bolder strokes of colors. He stretches his arms, only to feel the sticky plasma of drying blood sticking to his arms, his torso, spotting the expanse of his face. He is the last to leave their conquered ship, and he takes his time. He walks along the scattered piles of bodies, putting whoever hasn't perished out of their misery with the very same blade he wielded in battle. He's alive. He can go home. He watches the revelry on their vessel: men roasting the spoils from the kitchen, barrels upon barrels of ale and mead slowly being chewed through.

The stage is set. All they need is a little shock of entertainment.

But what he worries about is you. You who probably cowered from fear at the sudden influx of noise. You who definitely saw the things they are capable of doing. You with the wound on your shoulder, healing at a snail's pace with your imprisonment. So, he takes the time to find supplies to help you. He finds antiseptic. He finds needle and thread. It will have to do.

When he returns to his ship, He has spread oil across the deck where the bodies lay. With one bloody hand, he strikes a match to burn away the evidence of their carnage. The burning ship drifts further and further into the horizon, drowned out by the sounds of cheering. Joel is handed a mug of better than average mead.

As he watches the lights flicker and consume the rest of the ship, one question remains at the forefront of his thoughts, echoed and repeated by every voice in his head.

Do I dare?

Clarity comes when he's two mugs in, everyone else fucking off to see how much treasure piled up. He looks at the door that leads directly where you are and the question becomes clearer. It is in the iambic beat of his heart. I am, I am, I am.

It's in the excitement at the thought of seeing you tonight and having a good meal to offer. He begins to smirk, taking two plates and finding food he thinks you'll like.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

—

You do not look at him when he enters. You cannot, knowing the things you’ve seen today. Especially when you hear he’s happy, humming as he sinks down the stairs from the deck. The jump on his step was not there before. And instead of finding that itching curiosity to see if he was smiling or if you were responsible for this joy, you feel your stomach sour at one thought.

Perhaps the slaughtering of others brought glee to his bones.

“You must be hungry,” he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You feel a strange stickiness to his touch. So strange that you finally look, only to be horrified by the sight of his bloodsoaked hand. You yelp helplessly, shrinking away from his touch. You shed tears, luminescent in the semi-darkness, as precious as pearls that only he can see. “Darlin’...” His hand comes to cup your face gently, trying to make you look him in the eye. In this form, your skin is cold, the warmth of his hands turning your skin red.

“Y-you killed them,” you finally manage, the iron smell filling your senses. Seeing you panicked, Joel reaches down into the tub to slowly bring you out of your tub and into his willing arms, slow shushes escaping him. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

So that was what you were so scared of.

You bury your face into his chest, his shirt smelling of him— of sandalwood and musk, tobacco smoke, and underneath it all, a few specks of blood. Meanwhile, he lets you, cradling you in his arms as you continue to shed your tears. He lets you, knowing you wouldn’t listen to him with so much emotion in that pretty little head of yours.

But when you do eventually calm down, he doesn’t miss a moment. He couldn’t.

“I can never harm you, honey.” He breathes in through his nose, finally close enough to smell you. The sea air in your hair, sunshine and honeysuckles from lands he can only dream of. “I can’t even if I tried.”

Slowly, he lays you down where he had dropped his sheet—the sheet you’ve been wrapping yourself around. The sheet that smells like the both of you; that way he could imagine waking up to you the past few times he had gotten sleep. Slowly, he straddles your changed form, naked and so fucking divine it has his head spinning. “Can I take care of ya, darlin’?” He waits for you. Even when everything is pushing him to kiss you— he has to know you want this.

He has to know you’re not miserable.

Seeing this, you take a deep breath. You hold his face. Your skin, smooth and not exactly human, bright against his, earth-marred, bloody, and burnt from days in the sun. And yet, you do not see those flaws. All you see are his warm eyes, so desperate to tell you he wants you, and yet so willing to walk away if you asked. So you grip him by his shirt, pulling him against you in a wanton, desperate kiss.

It is the first kiss you share. The first of the hundreds you’ll share that night. But you will always remember that first.

Because it’s burning against your cool skin. Because the scratch of his scruff is a sensation you have not felt in the long life you have lived. He holds your face, bringing your head closer to him, pressing against the front of his skull, making you whine from want as he deepens the kiss. You’ll always remember it because you know this kiss.

You can already see the ending before the two of you ever began.

His hand slips into your hair, his mouth pulling away from yours, only to drift down  your cheek, your jaw… He chuckles against your skin when you gasp so meekly, melting like butter in his arms.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispers, marking the crook of your neck with his mouth. “Let me show you how ya have me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger.”

Already, you can see him in your memories, tangled up in him. His kisses on your neck, his spit drying against your skin. His fingers reaching and tearing you apart. In the eternity you’ll be facing alone… he’s there. Just there, a willing invitation to a dream.

He’s pushing your legs up, now fully transformed, and he comprehends everything. Without words, it seems, things simply come naturally to him. He cups your cheek with one hand, folding your body in half as your legs drape over his broad shoulders. His thumb brushes your lips, and you part them for him. You let him fuck his thumb into your wet mouth, groaning at the way you suck on him. “Good girl…”

Just then, his other hand reaches down, a warm sensation cupping your cunt as you whine softly against him, looking him in the eye. “Good God, are you always this soakin’?”

You slowly pull back, shivering softly from the sensation of him parting your folds. Only you, Joel. No one else can do this to me. He comprehends, and he groans again, leaning down to kiss you. His cock aches in the confines of his pants. Just like that, everything dulls out and he can only comprehend this: to have you. You, you, and just you.

“Guess I have some makin’ up to do to ya, huh?”

Just then, his head disappears between the valley of your breasts, marking a trail of blood-red hickeys down to your stomach, one hand pinching a nipple harshly enough to make you squeal, to which he shushes you again. Gonna get us caught, doll. He continues his way, finally finding your sweet cunt. He shifts his hands so he can slowly part your folds. He kisses the inside of your thighs just as you clamp one hand over your whining mouth. And, with nothing left to do, he takes a deep breath, looking at your face as he sinks his tongue down between your folds, tasting you with a longing groan of delight.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.

All you can feel is the flurry of rhythm Joel sets. His trembling jaw, as if whispering prayers to whatever powers may be. His tongue splitting you open and fucking you raw in a way so obscene, you think it’s unbecoming. Perhaps it is. Perhaps by letting him have you this way, you have turned your back on your world. But he fucks one finger into your surprisingly warm cunt and everything else fades away into the silence.

“Fuck, baby…” It’s so easy, you whining urging him on, calling for him and begging to just keep going, dear God. One finger becomes two, then three. Then he raises himself so he can see your face better. So he can see the way your features contort into a heavenly amalgamation of beauty and pleasure and wonder in one full spectrum. But there is nothing more beautiful when his fingers brush against something that made you keen closer to his touch, eyes wide open with your mouth trembling.

“That’s it, isn’t it, darlin’? It is, huh?” He chuckles, the rumble of it vibrating from his chest, echoing to the backs of your thighs, and finally, straight to your wanting cunt. He smirks, his upper body shifting so his arm was much more free— just so he can keep aiming for that one spot that made you keen so beautiful he gets a glance of your otherworldly beauty.

A long forgotten poem comes up from the back of his head, just as he was pulling your orgasm from your willing frame, his other hand covering your mouth before you get too loud just so you wouldn’t be interrupted, caught, and possibly separated.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. “Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good girl, honey…” I did not think they’ll sing for me.

You shut your eyes, grinding your hips into his touch, chasing a sensation you can’t even dare put into words. You whine into the palm of his hand, feeling as if your skin, normally so cool, set on fire with the desire you have for Joel. You peer through your damp lashes, making out the silhouette of his smirk, his warm eyes somewhat swelling with pride.

“Joel… there’s… there–” you barely get the words out when you feel it. Your vision going white, the electricity flowing through your body, and coming out of you in warm bursts.

Heaven, you think, from how Joel so lovingly described it.

When you come to, he’s pulling his fingers away, and a spurt of fluids follow in the wake of his absence. He chuckles, the sound of it emanating the very depths of your consciousness. “Didn’t know ya could do that, pretty girl.”

It leaves you warm, slightly sleepy. Slightly drifting in and out—the way the ocean climbs and recedes from the shore.

You don’t notice the way Joel watches you. The way blood smeared your perfect face. You do not notice his hand tracing down your torso, coloring it a faded, rusty red. Marked by him, and for him.

And yet if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so will I endure. For already have I suffered so much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and wars. Let she be added to the tales of those.

“Please eat,” he finally says as he kisses your forehead. “I saved a plate for you.”

So you do. You sit up, trembling, the cool porcelain pressed against your thigh as you feasted. Grapes, expensive nuts, and meats you could only dream of. You try not to think of the price he paid to lavish you with such an offering. Because now, instead of the guilt, you feel the rumblings of power in your veins. You have become his very god, the one he’d slay men for. The very god to which he offers a plate paid for by carnage. And if you’ve become god, what can you offer him?

Heaven was not fit to house a creature such as I.

—-

He makes love to you after dinner. Slow, careful. He doesn’t want to terrify you. He doesn’t want to get caught, either. He has you on his lap, your cool hands cupping his heated face, spineless from pleasure as he fucks up into you, giving you a moment to accommodate him and get used to the feeling of his cock stretching you wide open. Every vein, his very length, arching and filling you up in the best way there is to be filled.

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, and you oblige him. You whine for him, calling, biting your lip and throwing your head back. You lead his hand to your chest, heaving with slow, shaky breaths. He knows what you want without ever asking it of you. And that is why he squeezes the curve of your breast, sitting up to press his mouth to your collarbone. The kisses set your skin aflame, his fingers pinching and pulling the pleasure from your willing body.

So he gives you everything. You cum once again with you on top of him. You cum again after he bends you over the nearest table with his rough fingers rubbing circles on your needy clit. And on the third time, somewhere when it’s quiet, you both lie on the blanket, your back to his chest, his cock unmoving inside of you.

It’s a moment of respite. A lull. A moment to catch breaths.

“How much did you see earlier?”

His arm is around your waist, his mustache brushing against the back of your ear. It’s nice. It’s almost domestic, a word so foreign to you. Perhaps domesticity is something innately human. But he makes you have a taste of it. And it tastes so sweet. You hum softly, tilting your head so he can kiss more of your neck.

“I saw the first man you killed,” you tell him, to which he groans, pulling you closer. “I couldn’t watch any more after that. It was… too much.” You feel his teeth brushing against the curve of your ear. Then he bites gently just to hear you squirm.

“I don’t want you lookin’ anymore, sweetheart,” he whispers, “not if it’s going to upset you this much.” He leans up, peering over your peaceful face, with your eyes shut and your body languid. “But… I suppose I’ll try.” You open one eye, peering up at him. “Less murders, my queen, yes ma’am.”

You giggle, pressing your palm to his mouth as he continues to tease you with such pet names. He speaks behind your palm. Angel baby, cutie pie… Other pet names you don’t comprehend because the sounds disappear into your cool skin.

And then he’s fucking you again, with you on your side and him above you, caging you in his arms. You catch your lip between your teeth, gritting out half-choked moans. Already, the pleasure has begun to border the line between pleasure and pain. Already, you feel your legs quaking, but you feel the tremble in his spine as well.

He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

That’s when you notice how sporadic his bursts of movement are becoming. Fewer and shorter in between. So, you begin to give back, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying on top of him once more, digging your blunt nails down against his biceps. You feel his hands on your waist. Bloody hands that have taken an infinite number of lives before you. Bloody hands that will take who knows how many lives after. Bloody hands, that, despite their track record, hold you as if you are so fragile in his grasp.

Gentleness incomprehensible. The best of the world in the palms of his hands.

The both of you, flying into deep, empty space. Alone with Joel in the aether.

Watching his orgasm wash over him just as yours does for the fourth and last time. He pulls you into his chest, letting you moan into his chest. The only thing that betrays his release is the stuttered breaths, the shaky fingers. That is all. And then you feel the warmth of his seed, buried deep within you, treasured and tucked away. It’s so much, you feel it reach places you didn’t expect it to be.

Even when he’s ending things, he’s giving you everything he’s got.

In the afterglow, he takes care of you. Already, the sun is rising  Once again, you won’t see him until it’s dark again. You’ll be turning away from the world and dreaming of those eyes and his smile. But for now, he wipes you clean, kissing your forehead as he brings you back to your tub. For now, you hold his hand for another minute.

“Y’know… Sarah loved playing siren as a fuckin’ kid,” he finally says, cleaning up the plates in silence. “She loves the sea.”

You peer over the lip of the tub, smiling up at him dreamily. “She must be so beautiful. With your smile?” You sigh, leaning back as you look up at the ceiling. “You must miss her much.”

He brushes your cheek with a sigh, shrugging. “Every fuckin’ day, baby.”

He walks away from you, and you wait for him to look back. He does, with a shit-eating smirk at your dazed eyes, neck marked up by his own doing. “Don’t kill anybody today, Joel.”

He nods slowly. “Get some sleep, squirt.” As you turn away, the smile drops. He cannot show that vulnerability out there, amongst the men he’s shared blood, sweat, and tears with. Men he killed from and men he killed with. Men who’d want to tear you apart and swallow you whole. Men who’d kill him if they knew what the two of you did all night.

Then how should I begin to spit out the butt-ends of my days and ways? How should I presume?

He doesn’t have to presume for long. Not when he emerges on deck and he sees the dark shadow of land specking the endless sea of blue he had grown accustomed to. There stands the rise and fall of a mountain, a jagged line breaking the skyline.

The Captain speaks, and the shock burns through him so rapidly that he tries to hide it by leaning against the starboard side.

We hit land midday tomorrow. Our li’l baggage ‘bout to finally bring in some fuckin’ money.

The clock is ticking, what else can he do? Go, go, go.

—

When Joel returns, he’s waking you from a long, languid sleep. You turn to smile at him, but there’s a different look in his eyes. An urgency, a finger pressed to your lips to ensure silence. He carries you from the water and you’re brought up close to see the crease on his forehead. When he wraps you in the sheet, that’s when he speaks.

“Need t’get ya out of here, baby.”

The great escape. The prison break.

Now you feel the tension.

He waits for you to turn, to become inconspicuous. Meanwhile, he’s hot on his heels. He’s gripping a rucksack in his hands, heavy with some inconceivable baggage, muttering to himself. You start to understand the madness. You start to wonder if there’s two versions of Joel waiting behind every door. One of them is the lover— the man who’d kiss you as he introduces you to a world of pleasure. Then there was the monster— the man who sliced open the throat of the person he was robbing blind, the man who fired the harpoon that caused your imprisonment.

“So the monster has come to set me free of my bonds.”

You rise, shaky on your legs and clothed in that sheet that kept you modest. It’s when he stops in his tracks, looking you in the eye before sighing, tearing the cloth away from you to introduce a linen shirt of his. It smells of him; perhaps it even reeks of him.

“They’re going to butcher you if I don’t try, sweetheart.”

You do what you promised to yourself you’ll do when he asks you something. You put your blind faith into his hands and take a leap.

He leads you through a maze of rooms you cannot comprehend. You stop at the crosshairs. You duck under tables when he asks you to. And you know why. Because the men who thirst for your blood can be found on every corner. Because you’re running out of time. Because he’d rather lose you to the waves than those who shed blood like he does.

In a matter of minutes, you find yourselves in the cool evening air. It’s a blind spot, and it’s far enough that he helps you to the raft while it’s almost silent. The sounds of men beginning to have dinner so distant and far away, it’s like an entirely different world. Skillfully, Joel lowers you both into the ocean, the distant beating of the waves masking the sound of him cutting the rope that tethered you to the ship.

He keeps one hand on the behemoth you’ve escaped, and he audibly counts. Quiet enough for you to hear. Tens. Hundreds. Then, a thousand seconds passes.

He pauses, straining to hear. In the flickering light of the lanterns, you see the silver in his hair and his beard. You wonder, momentarily, if it’s the last you’ll see of him. That’s when you hear it.

Yells. But not of alarm. Not of you, their treasured prisoner, missing from her cage. It’s the yells of panic. Of suffering. Of pain.

Upon seeing your features, Joel finally reveals the hidden card up his sleeve.

“I poisoned them. I poisoned them and robbed them blind so they’ll never come after you.”

You look to him, waiting for another shoe to drop. But there is none. This is who he is, laid bare for you to see. Your devotee, giving you the ultimate sacrifice. This is not the monster nor the lover. This is Joel. All masks have fallen to their knees and prostrated themselves before you. Every post abandoned and conquered, only for you.

“Go.”

You blink, and his trembling fingers hold your cheeks, his shaky lips kissing the crown of our head.

“No one’s coming for you as long as I’m there to stop them.”

When you don’t move, he grits his teeth, as if caught between a rock and a hard place. A second passes, then his arms take you, throwing you overboard and into the familiar depths of an ocean below.

The waves welcome you with a surge of power, relentless and enduring. More immortal than you. More divine than you can ever hope to be. The moment you are released from Joel’s hold, the saltwater licks clean the wound on your shoulder. It washes away the scent of Joel’s shirt.

He’s already being erased from you.

From beneath the depths, everything comes back to you. The kiss on your hand, the scraps of food. His sticky, bloodmarked fingers marking you. All of it, slipping through your fingers like sand. In the cool darkness of the open sea, all you can see is a flame starting from the base where you last saw Joel. A fire spreading amongst the ship which you once hailed your prison.

You can see Joel’s boat, smaller in comparison, already racing away towards the shore.

All you can do now, with the power of Poseidon surging and bubbling beneath your veins, is to sing. To sing a hymn that begs before the very gods themselves. But it’s a song that begs Joel, too. Begs him to remember you.

Don’t forget me. You do not know if he hears you. Don’t forget me.

You attempt to follow him beneath the waves.

Don’t forget me.

—-

Against all odds, Joel Miller disembarks from the train to find himself in a farmland so familiar to him. Against all odds, it is three weeks later, and he’s followed all the roads and finds himself home.

He breathes in the smell of wheat under the scorching summer heat. He embraces it. He puts one foot ahead of the other, sea legs no longer present. The ground is too still that it still sometimes unnerves him.

A few meters away, he catches sight of the house. The windows wide open, the breeze making the curtains dance within. And on his porch is a familiar figure that had lowered her book and peered in his direction. He sees her face, and relief encompasses his bones. Sarah.

She’s running to him, yelling, loud and youthful and her face is like the sun. He feels himself smiling, too. The first time in weeks. Miles of walking and sleepless nights fade away with each step you take closer together. Then she’s running to his arms squealing as he embraces her.

Tell me. Is this really then Ithaca?

Finally, the years that separate the little family are slowly bridged. He rebuilds. He tells her stories. He tells her about you. When the sun sets, he tucks Sarah in and kisses her forehead.

Now, here he is. A couple of months that feels like decades have passed him by. He dreamt of you every night for the past three weeks. He sits in his bath, wondering if this was ever how you felt in those long, terrifying days. Did you feel peace, too?

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown.

His eyes fall shut. His breath slows.

A moment of peace as he sees your face, smiling at him, languid hands reaching and asking him to follow you.

He hears your voice, singing into his ear as he chuckles.

Until human voices wake us, and we drown.

-

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @boofy1998 @persephone-girl @lunxramour @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pirate!joel miller x siren!reader #pirate!joel miller #pirate!au #siren!au #mermaid!au

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Drawn to you | Pt. 3 (Warnings!)

(A/N) Another part! Wohooo! This one is a lot heavier than the others, so please read the warnings and do take care of yourself.

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: talk of deals, punishments, beatings, lots of really bad stuff, like srsly, the V's are the bad guys

Synopsis: The one you were running from has found you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Your body froze and your breath got caught in your throat.

He found you.

You thought you were safe, but he found you.

He found you.

You really thought you could escape him. How foolish of you.

You shook your head and turned around to face the overlord you had been running from for some time now. As soon as your eyes met his, a shiver ran through you. Behind those heart-shaped glasses, a fire was burning. A fire that promised punishment. That promised pain. So much pain.

Before either you or Alastor could say anything, a red chain formed in his hand, which connected to a collar around your neck. With one sharp tuck, you stumbled towards the moth demon, a cry leaving your lips as you landed on your knees in front of him.

“Valentino…”

You glared up at him, ignoring the burn coming from your scraped and bleeding knees.

“Ah, my favorite little toy. I have missed you, my dear.”

A smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned down until his face was only millimeters away from yours. You winced as his breath fanned across your face, the stench of his breath invading your nostrils.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Alastor! You quickly turned around and watched the radio demon saunter towards you and the overlord, his grin turned sinister.

“I suggest you let her go. After all, I was about to enter a deal with the lady, can’t let you ruin that, I do apologize.”

Valentino barked out a laugh as he straightened to his full height, looking down at the deer demon.

“Well, you see, that isn’t possible. As you can see, she has already entered a deal with me. A deal-”

Valentino gave the chain another sharp tug as if to emphasize what he was about to say, causing a pained whimper to fall from your lips.

“- she broke. She ran away. And now, she has to be punished. So, you’ll have to excuse u-”

Before he finished the sentence, he suddenly gripped you by your throat and held you up in front of his body. A gasp left your lips as his fingers closed off your airways, both your hands coming up to grab at the wrist holding you in the air.

Only then did you notice the black tentacles heading straight toward you. You closed your eyes, preparing for the impact and the pain, but nothing happened. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open, only to see that tentacles stopped right in front of you, slowly retracting toward Alastor.

Just as suddenly as you were lifted into the air, you were let go and fell back to the ground. You could hear a deep chuckle from behind you, just as a growl left Alastor’s lips, his sinister grin still there.

“Just as I thought…well, let’s get going, shall we, Valerie?”

“My name isn’t Valerie.”

While saying those words, your eyes never left Alastor’s, who slowly nodded in acknowledgment, as if saying that he believed you. You were about to nod back when another tug on the chain brought you back to reality. An arm suddenly wrapped around your waist and you were lifted into the air, but not just because you were picked up, but because Valentino used his wings to lift the two of you up into the air, flying towards the V tower.

“See you later, radio jerk!”

“So, you got the bitch back, huh?”

Velvette’s clawed fingers roughly grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at her. She grinned at your broken form, lying on the floor of the common room, covered in blood. Your eyes had long since glossed over as you dissociated to bear the pain.

She let go of your chin, your head hitting the floor hard, making her giggle. Velvette had always been the one who reveled the most in torturing sinners. Vox and Valentino enjoyed it as well, but she loved it.

“I did. Who would’ve thought she’d hide out in the same hotel Angel is spending all of his time at? Almost grabbed him as well, while I was already there. Ugh and that damn radio demon, almost ruined everything.”

The mention of Alastor registered in your mind, bringing you back to reality. The pain hit you all at once and you could barely hide a pained whimper, not wanting them to know.

Vox interrupted Valentino’s rambling, asking him if he was really talking about the Alastor and when Valentino confirmed, the TV demon went into a heated rant about his competitor. When he started to broadcast all of that, you saw your chance at revenge. Especially, when suddenly Alastor’s radio broadcast seemed to answer Vox’s TV broadcast.

While the two of them were arguing back and forth, you slowly reached out with your power and started to kill Vox’s connection, before eventually killing it off completely. You knew that they’d eventually figure out that that embarrassing moment was your fault, but you promised Alastor you’d help him with his comeback. At least you kept that promise and got to have some fun with the V’s as well.

And you were right. After only a few minutes, the three demons gathered around you and started another round of punishments. By the time they got tired, you weren’t sure if you’d survive the night. Still, after one more kick from Velvette, all three of them left the common room, leaving you on the floor.

At first, you were afraid that you’d actually die. But it didn’t take long for you to beg for death. So when suddenly you heard slow steps coming closer, you couldn’t help but beg.

“Please…kill…me.”

“Now, why would I do that, my dear?”

Alastor appeared from the shadows and kneeled down in front of you, his grin almost replaced by a frown, but not quiet. Still, you could see the concern in his eyes.

Avoiding major injuries, Alastor carefully picked you up, whimpers spilling from your lips in protest.

“Sssh, it’s okay. I’ll get you all fixed up. I got you, cher.”

A sudden pulling sensation all over your body made you wince, but it was over quickly and you had to close your eyes as you suddenly found yourself in the brightly lit hotel lobby. Chaos erupted around you and you could hear Charlie asking Alastor what happened, moments before everything went black.

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @dasimp777 @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts

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Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor fanfic #alastor love

[shashashina]

The person you are

Ok, I'm obsessed with Jordan Li from the Gen V spin-off series of The Boys, so I decided to write for them, give me some constructive criticism if you have any, I want to understand if I wrote things wrong, I keep repeating that the English is not my language and I am Italian, I struggle with English so I limit myself to using the translator to make what I write reach far away. I created this story in less than half a day, and I can say I'm proud of myself, I've had this idea in my head for a few days and I finally put it in writing.

The story more or less follows the events of the series, but in many events the protagonist is also involved, some scenes are not present or are modified and the story does not fully follow the chronological order of the events of the series.

I also apologize if the pronouns are not recognized correctly in the story, I worked very hard to ensure that the pronouns are adequate, but the transcription from my language to English distorts them.

Warning: Mentions of death and suicide, mentions of violence, otherwise just the protagonists being sweet to each other.

Summary: You and Jordan start dating after a clumsy hookup and end up liking each other, but you notice some unusual behavior on her part and ask why he's doing it.

Word count: 3,085

I've known Jordan Li since my first day at Godolkin, we met or rather bumped into each other at the entrance. I was completely busy reading my emails to check my dorm room number, I had my head down and I wasn't looking where I was going, they were talking to a guy who I later discovered was called Andre Anderson, Polarity's son. I lose my balance and fall to the ground, the cell phone falls from my hands and slides not far from me, Jordan immediately offers his hand to help me get back on my feet and apologizes in the meantime, then picks up my cell phone from the ground, in the process he notices that it is completely destroyed due to the impact with the ground "Oh damn, your cell phone is destroyed" "Nooo, no, no, what do I do now? I bought it just yesterday..." I take the cell phone from his hands and I give him a look with sadness on my face "Don't worry, if you bought it recently there is a guarantee and if there are any additional costs I will pay them" "Will you pay them? Why? You didn't break it...?" I ask confused, yes it's true, my phone fell because of the collision, but it wasn't his fault "Because I wasn't looking where I was going and I hit you" He says "Yes, you're right, but I wasn't looking where I was either going, and this is my punishment for walking distractedly while looking at my phone" "Anyway I feel guilty, so I would like to do something to make up for it" "Ok, well, if you really insist, I don't have a car to get to the store , it would take too long, so could you give me a lift in your car if you have one" "Yes, I have it, go for the lift, shall we say today at 05:00? Shall we meet here?" He asks "Yes it's perfect" "I'm Jordan Li by the way and this is my friend Andre" He says pointing to the other guy with him "I'm YN YS, nice to meet you, I have to go now, I have to take my bags to the room" "Ok, see you later" "Yes, see you later" I smile and wave, quickly heading to my room.

When I enter the room I am greeted by a girl with the wardrobe doors open, she is probably deciding what to wear "Hey" I call her attention and she turns to look at me, I hold out my hand, I smile and introduce myself "my name is YN YS " "Hi, I'm Anna Gordon I assume you're my roommate, it's nice to meet you" She hugs me tightly and then lets me go, goes back to her closet "What do you think I should wear tomorrow? I really want to make a good impression . It's a constant struggle to get to the top here and wearing something appropriate for the first day will give me a little advantage. Do you have instagram, tiktok? What super power do you have?" "Mmmm, I don't know what you could wear for the first day, I'm also undecided on what to wear, but I know I want to wear something nice to make a good impression just like you, I have Instagram and TikTok and my power is telekinesis, yours instead?" "Ohh telekinesis, cool, I have the power of teleportation, I'm not very good at using it yet, but I'm learning" I have the impression that my roommate is a big talker and that she is very sociable, in fact we continued to talk for at least another two hours before he decided it was time to go for a walk, I instead decided to tidy up my part of the room and then take a shower, when I finish it's almost 05:00 so I get ready for go out. I get dressed and leave the house wandering around the college before seeing Jordan and going to their place. "Hey, ready to go?" She asks “Yes, have you been waiting long?” "No, we just arrived" We go towards his car and he changes shape, from a boy he becomes a girl "Anyway this is my power, I change gender, the seats in my car are adjusted according to this shape and it bothers me to arrange them according to the my male form" I'm impressed, but not that much, I can only think that both forms are beautiful "Okay, don't worry, it's a really interesting power, I have telekinesis" they smile at me and get into the car and start the car and let's go to the store.

After I dropped it off, I was told it would be fixed in three days. I return to the car and Jordan takes a different route than the one we used before "Where are we going?" I ask curious about the change in direction "I'll take you for ice cream, I have to apologize for making you fall" "But you didn't make me fall you were the one totally distracted and having accompanied me to the shop is more than enough" "Ok, so let's put it this way, I want an ice cream and you will keep me company by eating an ice cream bought by me" I sigh in defeat, I think we could continue talking about it at infinite if I didn't give up "Okay, you're stubborn from what I see" I say laughing "Ohh you don't know how much" After talking about various topics during the journey for a while, we arrive in front of the ice cream shop, park and go in, I get a strawberry ice cream and they got vanilla ice cream. After eating our ice creams we go back to college and say goodbye "Bye, see you around" I say with a bit of disappointment in my voice, I enjoyed spending time with Jordan and saying goodbye is a little sad "Yes, see you, it's it was nice being with you" He says "Yes, it was nice for me too spending time with" I go back to my room and lie down on the bed to use the computer, after a few minutes I get notifications on Instagram, Jordan has started following me and he liked some photos, I follow back and in turn I like some of his photos, I really like his photos. It's getting late and I'm going to sleep for tomorrow, impatiently awaiting the start of lessons.

It's morning and together with Anna we get ready to go to class, in the end we will both put on a cute dress for the first day, we also have the same lessons, so we will go together, it's nice to have someone I know in the same classes as me, at least I won't feel alone. We walk through the corridors and chat, I bump into someone who, to keep me from losing my balance, grabs me by the shoulders "We should stop meeting like this" "Jordan, hi, yes, we really should" I laugh feeling shy about the physical contact suddenly, they let me go and I step back due to being too close, Jordan notices Anna and I decide to introduce myself "This is Anna, my roommate, Anna, they are Jordan" "Nice to meet you Jordan" Anna smiles toothily "We were going to class" I say "Okay, do you know where you need to go?" Jordan asks, Anna answers before she can I "Actually we're lost, could you help us?" "Ok, no problem" I have no idea why Anna lied, but we both knew exactly where to go, but it's okay, I don't mind being with Jordan, he accompanies us and then goes in the direction of her classroom. “Oh my god, oh my god, you and Jordan?” She's completely excited, but I don't know exactly why. "Me and Jordan what?" "Are you together? Are you friends?" "No, we are not together, and I cannot say that we are friends, I only met them yesterday and I think we could define ourselves as simple acquaintances" "Do you know that he is in second place in the Godolkin rankings? They are the most sought after in the school both as boys that as girls, many would kill to even be able to be next to them" "Well, then I must have made a massacre since yesterday I was in the car with them" "Really? Oh my god and how was it?" "Are you seriously asking me what it was like to be in the car with Jordan? Seriously? What do you expect me to tell you?" I ask laughing at the absurdity of the questions asked by Anna "I don't know, but I bet it was nice, and it smells really nice" "We just talked, and yes I enjoyed spending time with them, but I don't think that it will happen again"

And I couldn't help but be very wrong, in fact a few days later I met Jordan in the corridors of campus who invited me to go out with them and his friends. Now we are in a pub sitting on some sofas, I am sitting next to Jordan who takes a sip of his drink, on the other side there is Cate, Luke's girlfriend, with whom I immediately found myself in tune, she is nice , all of Jordan's friends are. Cate takes me to dance in the middle of the floor and we let loose, I feel a fixed gaze on me, at first I don't give it much weight, but then I turn to the point where I feel observed and I meet Jordan's gaze, my my heart skips a beat and I feel butterflies in my stomach, I think I like them, he comes closer to me and we start dancing together, out of the corner of my eye I see Cate go to Luke and leave me alone with Jordan, not that I mind. We start dancing provocatively and get closer and closer until we are just a few centimeters apart, we both stop dancing and stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds, until he cups my face and kisses me, it's a wonderful kiss, we break away from the kiss and smile at each other in embarrassment "Do you want to have a drink?" I ask "Yes of course" I take his hand walking towards the counter to get some drinks. At the end of the night we're all pretty drunk and we all go back to our dorms, Jordan walks me to my room and kisses me goodbye. I think I like it a lot. It's the next day and we meet during the break from class "Hey, do you want to talk?" I'm a little anxious, questions like that are the prelude to sad things and what if they regretted kissing me? What if he wants to tell me it was a mistake? I'm not ready to hear this. As my mind wanders I forgot to respond. "Hey, YN? Are you there?" He moves his hand in front of my eyes to distract me from my thoughts "Yes, yes, I'm here, of course we'll talk" He grabs my hand and leads me to a less crowded place "About last night... I wanted to apologize to you, you were drunk and I I kissed, I shouldn't have, it's just that I like you and I couldn't help myself, I didn't think enough about what I was doing..." "Wait, do you think I didn't like the kiss last night? Or that I didn't Did you want it? You don't have to apologize, I wasn't so drunk that I didn't understand what I was doing and then I like you too" I smile cheekily "So what does this mean?" He asks with a very red and shy face "It means that if you want we could start going out together, as more than just friends" "I'd like to, can I kiss you?" “And you even ask?” I grab them by the jacket and kiss them, it's a more overwhelming kiss than yesterday, but we are interrupted by Luke who whistles and calls our attention "Get a room if you want to make out like this" He says laughing and patting Jordan on the shoulder . We break away embarrassed and take each other's hands, we head towards our classes giving each other a quick kiss.

Timeskip

Jordan and I have been together for two months now, and a lot has happened in that time. Luke killed Rich Brink and committed suicide, he tried to kill me and a girl we had befriended, Marie Moreau, just because we were in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed the murder. Jordan had to protect me from her friend and he protected Marie even though he didn't get along very well with her. We have discovered that under the school there is a laboratory where Sam, Luke's brother, and other kids are locked up and we are hatching a plan to save them. Jordan supported me when by pure chance I rose to third place in the Godolkin rankings, overtaking them who were in second place and who found themselves in fifth place after Rich's death. I reluctantly participated in interviews and together with Marie we ended up becoming the object of attention from Indira Shetty, a woman I don't trust at all. Jordan even though I accidentally obscured the fact that they actually saved us, he didn't hold a grudge against me, he knew it wasn't something I could control, I tried to say that if I'm alive it's because of Jordan, but they didn't believe me, they believe that Marie, Andre and I collaborated to defend the school from Luke, there is no point in telling the truth, they all believe that we are being modest so as not to receive preferential treatment. I felt sorry for what happened to me Luke didn't seem like a bad person, he must have had his reasons for doing what he did, reasons that we all later discovered, I don't blame him, I just think it wasn't necessary to try to kill me and Marie.

I'm walking around campus talking to Anna, Marie and Emma about how hard the classes are, I see Jordan in the distance with Andre and other kids, I walk up to them and join Jordan's hand with mine, when he notices that it's me, it changes shape, from a girl it becomes a boy "Hey, beautiful, how are you?" He asks kissing me "Good now that I'm with you, what are you talking about?" "I'm fine, we were talking about how harmless Rufus has become since his dick exploded" "It was an accident, but if this is the result I'm happy it happened" Marie says intervening in the discussion, we all burst into loud laughter. Jordan and I get together in the afternoon to be together and while we relax sitting on the bed I can't help but think of one thing, every time I get close to Jordan and they have the feminine appearance they immediately change into the masculine one, not the I had noticed at first, but when I first noticed it I couldn't help but notice all the times he did it. I don't understand why he changes and I'm going to ask him right now. "Jordan?" "Yes?" "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course, as many as you want" "I noticed that every time you have female features and I get close to you, you immediately change them into male ones, why do you do that?" "Because you are a girl and so I thought you wanted to be with a boy, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable so I adapted to your preferences..." I remain silent for a moment absorbing and summarizing his words, then I reply "You're right I'm a girl, but I never said that I only like boys and then I don't like you because you're a boy, I like you for the person you are, you don't have to change when you're with me and above all you don't have to change for me. I don't care what you look like, I still love you in every form, you make me feel good and make me feel protected and safe, you don't have to think about making only me feel comfortable, but you too, I'm sorry if I have you given the impression that they had to change for me, I didn't want to..." I look down, feeling guilty for having somehow given the impression that they had to change for me, I reflect on what action of mine led Jordan to this conclusion.

Jordan makes me look him in the eyes one more time "It's not you who made me act like this, it's just that in middle school I had a girlfriend who always wanted me to be a boy, so I pleased her and every time I had In relationships I have always adapted based on the gender of my partner..." "You could have told me about it, you spent two months with me thinking that I didn't accept you for who you are, you took it for granted that I limited myself to preferring you as a boy, but you have never felt completely at ease with me and this makes me sad, you have to promise me that from now on whatever problem there is between us you will talk to me about it, I will do the same, I want there to be the freedom between us to be able to talk of everything and of being able to solve it together" "You're right, I should have told you about it, I just didn't think it was necessary, from now on I'll tell you everything" I go closer and kiss them, a sweet kiss, to express all the love I have for them "Did you say you love me before?" The realization of my confession came after a few moments, I had never said it before, I turn red and look away embarrassed "Because I love you too and I'm happy that my feelings for you are mutual" Jordan kisses me again and again and we spend the whole afternoon kissing and cuddling until we fall asleep hugging each other.

#x reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li #gen v #the boys #marie moreau #cate dunlap #luke riordan #andre anderson #emma meyer #sam riordan

[starogeorgina]

Violent delights

Warnings: Swearing, child death

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

1.08

“Get off, get off, get off, get off!”

You watch helplessly as your mother swats the midwives who are trying to help her away. She was padding barefoot on the balcony of her bedchamber, trying to ease the pain of her labor by walking. She would only allow you to get close enough to give her sips of water and dab her forehead with a wet cloth, but she refused help from anyone else.

Upon seeing Jacaerys and Lucerys entering your mother's bedchambers, you run to them. Both of them looked panicked. Luke looks at you wide-eyed and asks, “What’s going on?”

You grip both of their arms tightly. “Mother has gone into labor. The baby is coming early.”

You knew from personal experience what hell your mother was going through. When you saw your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, flying to the dragonpit, you rushed inside to greet her while Jace and Luke remained outside training. Unfortunately, your grandmother's visit wasn’t pleasant; she brought forth trucking news that triggered your mother to go into early labor.

You lead them into the balcony, where your mother is pressing her hands against a pillar for support while hunching over. She lets out a loud groan of pain before addressing them. “Your grand sire, King Viserys, has passed.”

“V-Viserys?” Luke asks, and you squeeze his hand and nod.

“The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king.”

“What is to be done about it?” Jace asks as anger radiates off him.

“Nothing yet.”

“And where is Daemon?”

“I don’t know,” your mother confesses. “Gone to madness. Gone to plot his war.”

Jacaerys grits his teeth and says, “Leave Daemon with me.”

“Jace,” your mother calls out to him as he goes to leave with Luke. “Jacaerys, whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command.”

Jace nods, turning. He gives you a look, silently asking you to follow him, so you do. Once out of ear shot from your mother, he pulls you in for a hug. “How—do you think—the babe?”

You knew what he was trying to ask: “It’s far too early. It’s very unlikely the baby will make it.” Hearing her loud screams, you face the balcony again. “I’ll see if the maester will bring some milk of the poppy.”

You go to fetch the maester, but Jace holds onto your hand. He presses a tender kiss on your forehead. “Whatever happens…”

“I know,” you gulp down. For both of you, what followed next was blood, war, and death. After calling for the master to bring the pain relief for your mother, you go back onto the balcony to see her sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth as she brings forth another baby, screaming in pain.

“Get out.”

“You should not do this alone, Princess.”

“Let us help you.”

She waved at them to stay away while crying in agony. You wanted to go to her but didn’t want to go against her wishes. You stood close by as she birthed a baby that wasn’t breathing. A girl. Your mother picks her up and cradles her in her arms, close to her chest.

You go to her and kiss the side of her head. “You’re sweet, Visenya.”

“She was my daughter, and they killed her. They stole my crown and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.”

—

You stand in silence during the funeral for your sister, who was born too early. You only turn back when a knight approaches, Erryk Cargyll. “I mean no harm, brothers.” He pulls the crown that once belonged to your grandsire out of his bag and kneels. “I swear to ward the Queen... with all my strength... and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife... hold no land... father, no children. I shall guard her secrets. obey her commands. ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

Daemon takes the crown from the knight and places it on your mother's head. “Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

One by one, everyone bends the knee for their new and rightful queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

—

You arrive at the meeting of the Queen's Council just as your mother and Daemon were exiting the room. Your mother had granted you leave when your son's wet nurse told you he was struggling to latch on; thankfully, you were able to feed him yourself. “Daemon, what’s going on?”

“That cunt Otto Hightower is approaching Dragonstone on a ship flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

Frowning, you spin on your heels and walk beside him, earning a slight grin. “This is Alicent’s doing. Aegon is nothing but a drunken fool with no desires other than to lay with whores. Whatever has transpired, Otto and Alicent are behind it.”

You stand beside your stepfather on the bridge as Otto has the audacity to walk towards you with a smug look on his face. “I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. I’ve been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the princess?”

“Queen Rhaenyra,” you correct.

Syrax screeches as she lands on the bridge behind you, letting out a loud roar as your mother climbs down off of her.

Otto smirks, “Princess Rhaenyra.”

“I’m Queen Rhaenyra now. And you all are traitors to the realm.”

“King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms. Acknowledge Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of dragonstone. It will pass to your true-born son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honor at court: Aegon the Younger as the King’s squire, and Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent.”

Daemon clicked his tongue and said, “I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king.”

"Aegon Targaryen sits on the Iron Throne. He wears the conqueror’s crown, wields the conqueror’s sword, and has the conqueror’s name. He was anointed by a septon of the faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there are Stark, Tully, and Baratheon. Houses that have also received and are at present considering generous terms from their king.”

“Stark, Tully, and Baratheon all swore to me when King Viserys named me his heir,” your mother reminds him.

“Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, Princess. The succession changed the day your father had a son. I only regret that you and he were the last to see the truth about it.”

Otto jumps as Viserion swoops down over him, and the men that stand behind him let out a loud screech as he does. For the first time since arriving, you see fear in Otto’s eyes. “Refer to my mother as princess again, and you’ll answer to my dragon.”

Daemon chuckles at your words.

“You are no more a hand than Aegon is king. Fucking traitor,” your mother snatches the hand of the king pin from Otto and tosses it off the bridge.

He takes an old scroll from the maester and hands it to your mother. “Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. No blood needs to be spilled, so the realm can carry on in peace. Queen Alicent eagerly awaits your answer.”

“She can have her answer now, stuffed in her father’s mouth along with his withered cock. Let’s end this mother’s farce. Ser Erryk, bring me Lord High Tower so I may take pleasure myself,” Daemon orders.

“No,” Syrax screeches again as your mother puts her arm out to stop the knight from stepping forward. “King’s Landing will have my answer tomorrow.”

When you turn to walk away, Otto says, “Oh, and one more thing, Princess Lyarra, King Aegon has asked me to pass on that he awaits the arrival of his daughter at king's landing; in fact, Aemma can leave with me right now.”

Ser Erryk holds you back as you lunge for Otto. “Come near my daughter, and I’ll fucking kill you!” Viserion lands behind you; his body leans over you as he roars in Otto’s face. “Mention her name again, and I’ll say the word and fucking burn you!”

Daemon points dark sister in the direction of the former hand of the king. You both look to your mother, awaiting to see what she does yet, and to your surprise, she does nothing.

—

Your blood boils as you pace back and forth, the anger seething from you. Otto’s words had equally terrified and angered you. The thought of Aegon, the usurper, getting anywhere near your precious daughter was enough to tempt you to fly to the King's landing and burn her to the ground before the Greens had the chance to take her from you. Daemon was furious that your mother didn’t let him kill Otto then and there, adding to the tension building between them.

Too focused on your rage, you miss most of what your grandsire, Lord Corlys, says regarding the Velaryon fleet; you only zone back in when you hear your husband's voice. “We should bear those messages. Dragons can fly faster than ravens, and they’re more convincing.”

You quickly realize he wants to go as your mother’s messenger instead of sending ravens. “Jacaerys is right, your Grace; send us.”

With glossy eyes, your mother looks between her three eldest children and says, “Very well. Prince Jacaerys and Princess Lyarra will fly north. The princess will fly to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, Lady Jeyne Arryn, and Prince Jacaerys will fly to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And... the cost of breaking them.”

You notice Jace’s hesitation, but he simply nods his head. Squeezing his hand, you face your mother and say, “Yes, your grace. We will get ready to leave as soon as possible.”

—

“I will see you soon, my little prince,” you say, quietly placing Daemon in his crib. You decided to feed him to help settle him before leaving. Your son would eventually latch onto the wet nurse, but it was always smoother when you were nursing him yourself.

Sensing a presence behind you, you turn and smile, seeing your husband standing by the doorway of the nursery. His head is low as you begin to lace the front of your dress back up. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve spoken with mother. I’m going to Winterfell and the Eyrie, so you can stay here.”

You shake your head and say, “No, that means you will be gone much longer. And I cannot let you and Lucerys be messengers while I remain here.”

“Given what Otto said, the children need one of us here.”

Although you hadn’t liked the idea of leaving any of your children, you understood it was important to gather allies for your mother. The sooner she sat on the iron throne, the better, as nobody was safe while Aegon was calling himself king. “Then you should stay; I’m not a fighter, but you are. You could protect our family better than I could.”

Jace pulls you in for a hug, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “I doubt that; you’re a fiercer dragon than I’ll ever be, and I know you’ll keep our babies safe. Plus, Daemon is struggling to bond with the wet nurses; he needs you close by.”

Flying north together and then splitting up for only a couple of days was bearable, but with him flying both places, he’d be gone for a minimal week. You cling to him tightly. “I’m scared you won’t come back or that the greens will come for Aemma.”

Jace cups your face. “I promise you, they won’t take our daughter from us.”

You desperately wanted to believe him, but the fact that Otto was bold enough to say it made your bones chill. Your mother's reaction also causes you to worry. Losing your grandsire, your mother being usurped, then losing her baby, and now the threat of having her grandchild taken from her home would all be weighing heavily. You feared the unknown and what might possibly happen to cause your mother to finally snap.

—

You stand on the edge of Dragonstone with your mother and maester as Jacaerys and Lucerys get ready to leave.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men,” your mother says, looking at Jace and Luke. “And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms, we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers, not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven.”

“I swear it.”

“I swear it.”

"Thank you," she hands a scroll to Jace. “Cregan Stark is... closer to your age than mine. I would hope that, as men, you can find some common interests.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Jace puts the scroll into his pocket before embracing you; he kisses your forehead multiple times. “I will see you soon, Lyarra. Avy jorrāelan.”

Teary-eyed, you say, “Avy jorrāelan, ñuha dārilaros.”

Reluctantly, you step back, giving him space to leave. Gulping down, you hold back the tears threatening to spill and kiss the side of Luke’s head, “Ñuha dōna lēkia, I will see you soon.”

Ñuha dōna lēkia - My sweet brother

Avy jorrāelan, ñuha dārilaros - I love you, my prince

Avy jorrāelan - I love you

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x you #Jacaerys Velaryon #jacaerys velaryon/you #Jacaerys Velaryon/reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #violent delights #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jace velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon x oc #Jacaerys Velaryon x fem oc #jace velaryon fanfic #jace velaryon fanfiction #Jace Velaryon/oc #Jace Velaryon x oc

[valeskafics]

"Oceans Of Time" - Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Dracula AU)

Summary: Aemond has crossed oceans of time to find you, his love.

Word Count: 3,650

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, mentions of suicide/death, blood kink, oral f receiving, p in v sex, murder

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

When news reached the Red Keep of the demise of Prince Aemond Targaryen, his wife was beside herself with grief. She fell to her knees, sobbing, wondering why the gods would be so cruel as to take the love of her life from her at such a young age. She could not handle the pain his loss entailed, the pain that threatened to consume her whole, and so she flung herself from the ramparts of the Red Keep, his name on her lips. She left behind a note, one proclaiming her eternal love for him, found by his mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, who promptly had her son’s young wife’s body recovered and brought to the Silent Sisters for a proper burial.

The court was shocked upon Aemond’s return, as he stated that he did not fall in battle. But when he saw his young bride, laying upon a slab to be dressed by the Silent Sisters, the most wretched of sobs left the prince’s body. Much as his lady did upon hearing of his death, he fell to his knees, grief-stricken and heartbroken. And then? The grand maester had the sheer audacity to tell him that because the lady took her own life, her soul was damned. She could not be buried in the hallowed ground of the royal crypts.

Aemond’s lips curled up into a vicious snarl as he hissed, “Is this my reward for defending the realm? For defending the Seven? My beloved wife buried as a heathen in a pauper’s grave?”

The Dowager Queen and maester covered their mouths in horror, whispering sacrilege. And then, Aemond uttered the words that would change the trajectory of his life forever.

“I renounce the gods! I renounce the Seven! I shall rise from my own death to avenge hers with all the powers of darkness!”

The young prince cursed the Seven, and so sealed his own fate. The Stranger cursed him with life eternal, so that he would never be reunited with his love in death. The mysterious god cursed the one-eyed prince to wander the realm as neither man nor spirit, but something else entirely - a creature of the night, one who gains sustenance from the consumption of the blood of living beings.

Nosferatu.

A vampyr.

Aemond soon realized that if the world were to realize what he was, he would be hunted down, slain by those who would not have one of the undead walking the realm. And so, he fled to Winterfell, commissioning a great manse where he could live in solitude, mourning his love and feeding on any poor travelers unfortunate enough to come his way.

Many years pass this way, nearly two centuries. Aemond learns of Robert’s Rebellion, of the fact that his descendants have been all but wiped from the face of the earth, and yet he cares not. He cares for nothing, for no one, until one fateful day. He walks through the streets of Wintertown, his eye going wide upon seeing a sculpture being worked upon by an artisan in the middle of the square. A statue that is the very image of his lady, his love. He approaches the artist and asks who the subject is.

“The princess, good ser, King Robert’s eldest daughter,” he informs him, “She’s to marry Lord Robb. They have been betrothed.”

Aemond gazes at the statue, enraptured, the uncanny resemblance between this princess and his dearest love being too evident to deny. At hearing that she is to be married to the future Lord of Winterfell, his lips turn downward into a frown. He stares into the eyes of the statue, a yearning he has not felt for many, many years overtaking his body. He must find his way to King’s Landing, after all this time. He must find this sweet princess, his lady wife reborn. He will not rest until he has her in his arms, and in his bed, once again.

As a princess, you are afforded every luxury you can possibly desire. Your mother adores you, her favorite of her children. Out of your siblings, your father only truly pays attention to you, his eldest child. Your siblings practically worship the ground you walk upon and your uncles treat you as their little princess. You are adored by the people of King’s Landing, the Sweet Doe, as you have come to be known. You go out into the city often, mingling with the smallfolk, doing your best to listen to their troubles.

And it is in the city that Aemond finds you.

Aemond stares at you from across the way, hidden in the crowd, biding his time till the opportune moment to make himself known arises. You look so happy, he notes, walking arm in arm with your lady’s maid. He waits for her to separate from you before murmuring under his breath, eye locked on your figure.

“See me.”

As though you hear his words, you turn, your eyes meeting his own for a brief moment. You tilt your head to the side in confusion before beginning to walk toward the market. Aemond can hear the way your heart beats faster against your chest, knowing that tiny interaction affected you just as much as it did him. He makes his way toward you, making sure to bump into you. You stumble slightly and he takes your arm to steady you.

“My humblest apologies,” Aemond speaks in a soft, measured tone as you gaze up at him, “Forgive my ignorance. I have recently arrived and I do not know your city. Is a beautiful lady-”

You cut him off abruptly, “Perhaps you might purchase a map for six coppers. Good day, ser.”

You turn to leave, rounding a corner only for the mysterious stranger to catch up to you, as though he has materialized before your eyes from nowhere, continuing to speak, “Please, my lady, I do not mean to offend. I only wish to find my way in this new place,” you frown slightly as he speaks again, “A woman so lovely and intelligent should not be walking the streets of King’s Landing without her gentleman.”

Feeling annoyed by his presumptuousness, you reply primly, “Do I know you, ser? Are you acquainted with my husband? Shall I call upon the City Watch?”

“Husband?” Aemond feigns humility, “I shall bother you no more, my lady.”

You watch as the handsome silver-haired mystery man turns to walk away and feel a pang of longing in your heart. Why does it hurt to watch him walk away from you? Despite your better judgment, you reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Ser, it is I who have been rude,” you bow your head apologetically.

He gives you a charming smile, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it, one that has your stomach tied in knots as he murmurs, “Please, permit me to introduce myself. I am Aemond, Prince of Pentos. I am your humble servant.”

Aemond knows that the Westerosi do not know enough about Essosi tradition to question his words. He watches your lips part slightly with surprise as you give him a quick curtsy and tell him your name, smiling shyly.

“I am the daughter of King Robert.”

He gives you a bow in return, gazing up at you all the while, his good eye never leaving yours, “I am honored, my princess.”

You ask the handsome Prince of Pentos to dine with you that evening, inviting him into the Red Keep as your guest, not knowing the repercussions of giving this man permission to enter your home. The two of you drink the finest Arbor Gold and speak on politics, literature, history, philosophy, science, all manner of things. You have met your betrothed, the future Lord Stark, but never has he been able to hold your interest in conversation the way the mysterious Aemond has. He is charming and witty, with a macabre sense of humor.

You rest your chin on your hand as you admire him, his sharp features, his soft voice, “I do not understand why you seem so familiar to me, sweet prince. It is your voice, perhaps. Like a voice in a dream I cannot place,” you murmur.

You gasp softly as he takes your hand in his, long, elegant fingers tracing your palms, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your skin. You gaze into his blue eye, the one that is not covered by his eyepatch, lips parting slightly as he leans in toward you. And yet, you remember yourself at the last moment and pull away.

“I should not have done this,” you whisper, panicked, “I… I must go.”

You turn to leave, but Aemond holds your hand in his, gently turning you back to face him, “Do not fear me, my princess.”

His touch is electrifying and when you meet his gaze again you cannot help being drawn in by his presence. He pulls you close to his chest, resting a hand on your cheek, leaning in close to you.

“Stop,” you whisper weakly, “Gods, why do you feel so familiar to me? Why do I feel as though I know you?”

His lips ghost over your neck and Aemond moves his mouth to your ear, his breath tickling your skin as he whispers, “I have crossed oceans of time to find you.”

You let out a tremulous breath as he moves his thumb to stroke your lip. Aemond inhales your scent deeply, feeling his fangs elongate with hunger as he smells you. His mouth waters as you lean into his embrace, allowing him to press his lips to your neck. The little gasp you let out as his free hand moves to squeeze your waist is enough to drive him mad with want as you succumb to your desire for him, allowing him to kiss you after all these long years apart.

You continue spending time with your new acquaintance. No one knows the truth of where you disappear to when you go to meet him, not even Myrcella. And every day, you fall deeper in love with him, this mysterious dark stranger who has so easily stolen your heart. Thoughts of him consume your waking moments as well as your dreams. You do not understand the connection you have to him, as though he can read your thoughts, as though he knows you better than you know yourself.

Strange things begin happening at the Red Keep, however. Servants going missing, never heard from again. Animals found, entirely drained of blood. You put no stock into it until one day, you find him, your sweet Aemond, fangs suck into the neck of your lady’s maid, draining her of her lifeblood. You gasp in horror and run from him, all the way back to your chambers. Aemond races after you, calling your name, pleading for you to listen to him.

You gasp as a strange green colored mist makes its way into your chambers and the man in question materializes before you, whispering softly, “Do not fear me, my most precious love.”

“What are you?” you ask quietly as he takes your face in his hands, pulling you close to him, his chest pressed against yours, “Aemond, tell me the truth…”

“I am, and always have been, yours.”

You gasp as you see his fangs elongate before your eyes, covering your mouth with shock, “Vampyr,” you whisper.

He nods, removing his eyepatch, revealing his sapphire eye to you, “I am no Prince of Pentos. I am Prince Aemond Targaryen. And you are my love, born again. Tell me you feel the same as I. That you crave our next encounter every passing hour. I know that you must,” he rests his forehead against yours.

“May the Seven forgive me,” you close your eyes, collapsing into his arms, allowing him to hold you, “I love you… I want to be with you. I want to be what you are, see what you see, love what you love.”

“My sweet princess,” Aemond rasps, “To walk with me, you must die to your breathing life and be reborn to mine.”

You nod in understanding, affirming your decision, “You are my love and my life always.”

He smiles at you, pressing his lips to yours before speaking, “Then I give you life eternal, everlasting love. Walk with me to be my loving wife forever.”

Aemond undoes his shirt and you admire him as he drags a nail over his bare chest, opening a vein to allow you to drink from. He holds your head in his hands, bringing your lips to his chest to drink from him, to drink his life’s blood so you may become like him.

“Drink and join me in eternal life,” he urges as you press your lips against him and begin drinking his blood. Aemond lets out a low moan of pleasure at the feeling, holding you close to him as your tongue traces the tiny incision. Then, as though he has a sudden realization, he pushes you away. You gaze up at him in confusion.

“My love?”

“I love you too much to condemn you to walk through the shadow of death for all eternity,” Aemond replies, his voice aching with pain, “I cannot let this be.”

You shake your head, “I do not fear being condemned. What I fear is never feeling your touch again. I want to be with you always,” you bare your neck to him, pleading, “Finish it. Drink from me. Make me like you, Aemond. I know who I am now. I am your lady, your love, returned to you,” you wrap your arms around him, “You crossed oceans of time to find me. And now we can be together. I love you.”

And Aemond sinks his fangs into your neck, claiming you as his. You let out a moan, the ecstasy of his bite overtaking you. It is the most intense pleasure you have felt in all your life as he drinks of you. You faint in his arms, and your transformation begins in earnest. Aemond watches as tremors rack your form, as your body grows cold just as his. He comforts you, holding you to his chest.

When your eyes open, everything in your world seems so much brighter, so much more vivid. And you see him, sitting beside you, waiting for you.

“My love,” he whispers.

You sit up and press your lips to Aemond’s, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. He gently presses you down onto the bed, his lips finding your neck as he bites you, drinking your blood once more. You let out a soft moan, hands running through his hair as you feel his own hands caress your thighs, pushing your dress and shift up to reveal you to him.

“Just take it off,” you plead, “Take me. Make love to me as we used to.”

Aemond wastes no time and rips your gown from your body, his remaining eye taking in your bare form with no little degree of hunger. He kisses down your body, biting down on the flesh of your inner thigh, your crimson blood coating his lips. You moan, your nails raking across his scalp, throwing your head back against your pillow as he buries his tongue in your cunny, moving it in and out of you, tasting you, moaning against you as he does. You feel his fangs grace against you, hands holding your thighs apart as he continues his task, bringing you closer and closer to your peak. You buck your hips up against him, the pressure deep inside you building to a crescendo until finally, you are overcome by your peak.

When he joins your bodies, you cling to him, your mouth finding his neck as you let your fangs sink in, drinking from him once more. Aemond lets out a low moan as he ruts against you, the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust. Aemond whispers your name, proclaiming his love for you, his eternal desire, his pure, unadulterated devotion to you.

And that is how the two of you intend to remain, in a cycle of never ending love, for the rest of your unnaturally long lives. For a love like this, one that transcends the bounds of time, cannot be limited by a mere lifetime.

Your and Aemond’s love is eternal and will live on forever.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #house of the dragon #my writing #monsterf*cking #halloween fic #aemond oneshot #baratheon!reader #vampire!aemond

[fadingdreamland]

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!wife!reader x Alys Rivers

Warnings : open relationship, SMUT, threesome (FMF/FFM), spit kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, bathtub sex, not proofread

English is not my first language. Also this is my first time writing smut. Sorry if it's kinda cringe.

2091 words

You entered Harrenhal on foot, surrounded by guards. You had been separated from your husband for months. He had written to you about his lover, Alys Rivers, and you grew curious about her. Not jealous. You and Aemond had had lovers before and even at times shared them. 

The agreement was made when he took you from Storm’s End, right before you wedding. He though that yours would be a loveless marriage. He was wrong. Love grew between you two but it did not stop you from seeking pleasure in others, too. You were almost as promiscuous as Aegon but you hid your depravities well.

The letters your husband had sent you described the encounters he had had with his new lover. Those letters got you extremely turned on. You tried to seek relief by yourself, then with lovers of your own but it was never enough. So you left for Harrenhal without even warning of your arrival.

That must be the reason there was no one to receive you. Heads turned toward you in the courtyard. As if they knew who you were but were not sure. It did not take you long to find your husband.

“Y/N,” Aemond said as you walked into the room. He was with his men around a table, likely planning their next attack against the Blacks. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you that disappointed to see me, husband?”

“Leave us.” Aemond orders to the men and the room clears. As soon as the door is closed Aemond is on you. His lips caressing yours, his tongue in your mouth as he holds you against him and your hands cup his face.

“You could not expect me to stay in King’s Landing after the letters you sent me”

His lips raise in a smirk. “So you did not come al the way from King’s Landing to see me.”

“Your letters got me so wet. Even my lovers could not satisfy me.“

His smile turns even more mischievous as if it were possible. “I have duties, wife. I cannot simply drop them to fuck you.“

“I can wait. In your chambers. With Alys.” You said, slowly caressing his hardening cock through the fabric of his breeches. As he leans in to kiss you again you step away, your hand leaving his cock. “The travel has been long, husband. I would like a bath. And food.”

He nods and less than an hour later you have a warm bath prepared for you in Aemond’s chambers. You take off you cloak and the maid helps you out of your gown. You enter the bath, warm water relaxing you muscles. You sigh in relief.

A knock on the door startles you out of your relaxing time. A woman with black hair enters with a tray overflowing with food and leaves it on the table in front of the bed, a few feet away.

She curtesies to you.“Princess, I am Alys Rivers. Prince Aemond’s maid.”

“Of course, you are.” You turn toward the maid. “Leave. Lady Rivers will help me bath”

The maid nods, curtsies and leaves.

“Please, princess, call me Alys. I am no lady.“

“Then you shall call me by name, too.”

Alys grabs a cloth and kneels beside the bathtub. She rubs your back, and your shoulders, your chest and goes down the valley of your breasts.

“The Prince talked a lot about you. You are as beautiful as he described.” Alys praises in what could be considered a whisper.

“I have heard about you, too, Alys. In Aemond’s letters.”

“Am I as you imagined, Y/N?” The whisper of your name on her lips makes you clench your thighs together.

“I do not know yet. Undress and I will know.”

Alys stares at you. You cannot tell if she is surprised but you can clearly see lust in her eyes.

“Undress, Alys.” You repeat. “I am not asking, I am ordering.”

She stands up and starts taking off her dress, unties her corset then lets the fabric drop on the ground. She is bare to you. The perfect swell of her breasts, her pale skin and her cunt.

“You, too, are as Aemond described.” You finally say after staring at her for a moment that seemed too short to you. 

“What else do you know about me ?” Alys asks.

“People say that you are a witch. They say you have bewitched my husband into fucking you.”

“What do you say?”

“You are a witch, Alys Rivers. But I don’t think you used whatever power you have on my husband.” Your eyes roam her naked body “With breasts like that, a body like yours… There’s no need to use magic to fuck whoever you want”

Alys simply smiles at you. It is not a warm smile or a nice one, it is a rather… lustful smile.

“Join me,” you gesture toward the other end of the bathtub.

Alys does not hesitate or wait and enters the bathtub, sitting opposite you. Her legs brush yours. One of your hands grips her foot and slowly travels up her leg your body following once you reach her knee until you are straddling her lap.

Her face so close to yours that you feel every one of her breaths on your face. Her breasts and yours touching, rubbing against each other. Her hands go to your waist and push you down on her even more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

You lean in, your forehead against hers, your nose rubs against her cheek. You put one hand on the side of her face and kiss her. Her lips are soft, you press your tongue against her lower lip and her tongue infiltrates your mouth. 

One of her hands grabs you hair and tugs at it, your head goes slightly backward and your mouth opens even more. Alys licks your lips and presses against your tongue, she moves to kiss your neck then your chest and finally she gets to your breasts. Her tongue dances all over them driving a sigh of pleasure out of you.

You cannot resist any longer and your hands cup her breasts massaging them, you feel her moans muffled by your breast in her mouth. Your hand moves from her tit to her throat, you wrap your head around it and tug her away from your chest. You lock eyes with her.

“Fuck, Alys. You’re even better than what Aemond told me.”

Alys tucks her lower lip between her teeth. You grab her by her cheeks with one hand, the other still playing with her tit.

“Open your mouth.” She does as you say, her mouth falls open.

You lick the insides of her mouth as she had done to you before and then tou spit in her mouth.

“Swallow.” You whisper. Again, she does as you say. “Tell me, Alys, what did Aemond say you about me?”

“He said that your title may be ‘princess’ but you really are a whore.” You smirk. “He also said that your cunt is divine.”

“I guess I am a whore. But I do not know if my cunt is truly divine. Will you tell me?” You ask her as you lead her hand between your legs.

“Yes. Tell her.” A voice from the door says.You and Alys look toward the voice. Aemond. Heis standing, his back against the closed door.“She never believes me when I do.”

“How long have tou been standing there?” Alys asks.

“Since my wife’s tit was in you mouth.”

You look down his body and notice the tightness in his breeches. You smile, biting you lip.

“Come, husband. We will relieve the pressure in your breeches” You say.

Aemond crosses the room until he is standing beside the bathtub. Alys reaches for his breeches, unties them and lets them fall to the floor. Aemond’s cock springs free. As Alys goes to wrap her mouth around it you pull her face to you and kiss her just as intensely as you had done before. Aemond groans in frustration as Alys kisses you back. 

You pull away out of breath and without breaking eye contact with Alys you bring you husband’s cock to you mouth. You lick the tip and prompt Alys to do the same. You both start kissing and liking Aemond’s cock until you pull it inside her mouth, she starts sucking as you stand up to kiss Aemond. Your husband enters your mouth with his tongue as one of his hands cups your breast and the other is on the back of Alys’ head while he fucks her mouth.

Suddenly you feel something moving over your cunt, you look down and see Alys’ hand cupping it. As you return to kiss Aemond you guide Alys’ fingers to your clit.

She starts rubbing there, you moan into your husband’s mouth. You reach for his eyepatch and pull at it to take it off. You pull away from him to look at his face. Fuck, you love to see him without his eyepatch. 

You feel Alys’ mouth on your clit and moan as you look down and see her hand around Aemond’s cock and her face buried in your cunt. You reach for your husband’s manhood as you kiss him again. You play with his balls, then wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him. This makes Alys focus solely on you as she sucks on your pearl she brings her fingers to your entrance. You put a foot on the edge on the bathtub to give her better access.

She inserts a finger, then another and she pumps in and out. In and out. Your mouth falls open and Aemond uses this opportunity to spit in your mouth, hot liquid invading your mouth. You swallow as you know he likes it.

He grabs Alys by her hair and yanks her up, forcing her to stand up. You whimper at the loss of contact. Aemond spits in Alys’ mouth, then in yours and guides you two to each other. You kiss Alys, this time it is your tongue in her mouth, you taste a mixture of Aemond and you in her mouth and by the gods you’ve never been so turned on.

“I want to taste her cunt,” I tell Aemond as I pull away from Alys.

“Then perhaps it is time to move to the bed,” he answers.

I nod and grab Alys’ hand and lead her out of the bathtub, you push her on the bed. You kneel on the bed as she crawls backwards, farther into the cushions. You feel Aemond behind you, his chest against your back. He got rid of all his clothes. Perfect. He puts his hand to the back of your neck and with one swift movement he brings your face down to Alys’ cunt.

“Fuck her with your mouth,” he orders and you comply.

You lick at her pearl drawing breathless sighs from her. Licking is soon not enough for you and you wrap your mouth around her clit and part of her mouth. You suck, lick, bring your fingers to her entrance. Her hand wraps around your hair, begging for more. Two fingers inside her and Aemond pushes inside you from behind without warning. Tou scream out in pleasure into Alys’ cunt. Aemond’s hard thrusts guide the rhythm go your fingers and tongue on Alys’ cunt. The moans ans groans and skin-slapping sound invade the chamber.

Your free hand goes up Alys’ body until it reaches her tits, you lassie them as you keep your mouth sucking and licking her clit and your fingers go in and out of her.

Aemond slaps your ass making you moan, his thrusts become faster, harder, his hand reechoes around you tu rub your pearl the way he knows drives you crazy and he comes inside you triggering your own release. Alys comes in your mouth as Aemond rides out your orgasm. You lick every drop of Alys’ release. She tastes as good as Almond told you.

Your husband lies down beside Alys as you lie down on the other side of your new lover. After recovering your breath in a few minutes, Alys’ hand reaches to your belly, where your womb is.

“She will carry your child soon, Aemond.” She says. It is not a guess or a hopeful comment, she seems certain of it. She is certain of it.

“So will you,” he answers with a smirk as his cock hardens again.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #alys rivers #almond targaryen x reader #alys rivers x reader #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #alys rivers smut #hotd one shot #prince aemond

[yronnia]

[Edit: check my reblog too, screenshots from the book kindly provided by spookydazechaos]

Agnesses Nyce and not so accurate prophecies with screenshots.

The full list below.

Some are unreadable (to me), so I inserted some X-es instead, where necessary. Interesting is, that Orient Chariot is mentioned twice, in prophecy nr. 3819 anf 4019.

Prophecy nr. 3012 is only one I cant allocate, dont tell me its about Aziraphale and Crowley, when Agness adressed Aziraphale by "angel" "thyf " and "principalitee", whats the bit about the dragons? Because they have wings?

1111- An the Great Hound sharl come

and the Two Powers sharl watch in V

Goeth Where is, Where they

Notte, and he sharl name it, True to l

and Hell sharl flee it

2213- I tell ye thyf, and I charge

ye with my wordes. Four shalle

ryde and Four shalle alfo ryde,

and Three sharl ryde the Skye

as twixt and Wonne shal ryde in

flames, and theyr shall be no stopping

themme, not fish, nor rayne nor rode, neirher

Deville nor Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also

2214- In December 1980 an Apple will arise no

man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes

thinking machine and good fortune

will tend thy days.

2315- Sumsay It cometh in Londo xxx or

New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, f xxx is

Taddes fild, Stronge inne hys powr, h xxxxke

a knight inee the fief, he divideth the xxx

4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

3001- Behinde the Eagles Neste a grate Ash hath fallen.

? 3007- Brings forth

For the devil lucks in plain sight.

Under an arc of pale moonlight.

3008- When that the angel readeth these

word of mine, in his shoppe of other mmennes

books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open

thyne eyes to understand. Open thyne eyes and rede

I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth

grow cold

3009- Seven, who hold the Scepther shall be killed,

xxx shall become a saint.

3011- xxThe?

and churces be laid open

opressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruen

foreginers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his

assistance and trample their necks under his feet

3012- A shower of blood shall rain and a ragging

famine shall afflict mankind. When dhese things

happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his

fatigue is over, he shall recover his strength. Then

shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon,

and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down.

3017- I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende, and

the Angells of Hell ride with them, And Three sharl

Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four, and the

Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne

sharl claim his Own.

3477- Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts

en- join, there are othere Fyres than mine, when

the wynd blowethe the blos- soms, reach oute one

to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and

Whyte and BLacke and Pale approache to Pear is

Our Professioune.

3819- When Orients chariot

inverted be, four wheles in the

skye, a man with bruises be upon

Youre Bedde, achinge his head

for willowfine, a manne who

resterh with a pyn yette his

hart be.

3988- Whene menne of crocus come frome the

Earth and green manne frome thee Sky, yette ken

not why, and Plutos barres quitte the light- ning

castels, and sunken landes riseth, and Levia- than

runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh

together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride, I tell

you the ende draweth nigh.

3989- He is not what he says he is

4009- Where the Hoggs back end the young

beast will take the world and Adams line will end

in fire and darkness.

4019- When Orients chariot inverted be a

man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for

willow fine

4020- Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts

enjoin, there are other fyres than myne, when the

whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

5001- When the skies are xxxx, then ye

both must stand between the world and life and the

world of wae, where the iron bird lands no more

5004- When alle is fayed and all is done, ye

must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff

ye will be playing with fyre

#good omens #good omens screenshots #nice and acurate #agnes nutter #crowley #aziraphale #prophecies #The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter #Witch

[axelsagewrites]

Can I request a another Ramsey x Freader we’re the reader is a servant and hates Ramsey and the two of them don’t get along and verbally fight with each other until one day Ramsey comes up with a solution by letting her have a brief moment of control over him or so she thinks and then he suddenly turns the tables on her and takes all the control back ?

and as usual can there be smut? :)

Ramsay Bolton*Servant

Pairing: Ramsay x f!reader

Word count: 3531

Warnings: teasing, Ramsay being Ramsay, f!recieving oral, face sitting/riding, soft dom reader, hard dom ramsay, marking, p in v sex, nipple play, light choking think that’s everything angst smut 18+

Masterlist here

You hated him and who could blame you? Before the Boltons took Winterfell you had met Ramsay on a couple of occasions when his father would bring him. You were a mere baker’s daughter, and he was just a bastard. Ramsay was ignored by most of the true born children and even the starks bastard did not take kindly to his fellow snow. The few times he came to Winterfell he sulked off to the kitchens, swiping food off the counter resulting in you chasing him around the castle, demanding he give the bread back.

While you scawbled at times you never hated the boy. He was only a year older than you and there was even a point you wondered if he could be more than a friend however the last time you saw him you had got in a fight. He had lashed out at you and now you couldn’t even remember why. All you remembered was when you yelled back Roose Boltons hard hand came down across your cheek, accosting your father to train you better. That was the last time you saw Ramsay.

Or so you thought until his father strode in Winterfell on horseback with Lannister soldiers riding behind him. It had already hard enough being a servant under the Greyjoy’s especially since not long before Theon left with Robb you had harshly rejected his drunken advances. However, Rooses presence did not settle you any less than his sons.

When Ramsay finally arrived at Winterfell he barely glanced towards his new squad of servants unless to bully and berate them. Lordship did not suit him well you thought. You resented him and everything he stood for. How could someone who could barely hold a wooden stick last time you saw him be in charge of the house you had called home since before you were born?

While all your fellow servants were just trying to survive you had given up. There was no stark nor snow to protect you or loyalty for anyone anymore. You did your jobs when asked and left when told. Despite Ramsay never greeting you or even using your name he had selected you as one of his main four to tend to his chambers and needs.

“you missed a spot,” Ramsay drawled as you went to pick up the mop bucket to leave. He never even looked up from his book to say it.

“where?” You asked, your expression blank as the idea of dinner was the only one on your mind. Ramsay looked up from his book for only a moment with a surprised look on his face before he pointed to a spot beside the fireplace.

You rolled your eyes, quickly moving to the spot and dumping the mop down on it before bringing it back into the bucket you had to carry down all the stairs before you could even think of eating. “happy my lord?” You asked.

“it’s still wet,” Ramsay said as he sat his book down, a scowl marked on his face.

“the fire is hot my lord,”

“I know the fire is hot,”

“then you know it will dry,”

“I want it dry now,”

“then wait a few minutes,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “goodnight my lord. I shall see you in the morrow,” you said before stalking off to leave his chambers, not bother to mop the splashes from the bucket that spilt in your haste. Ramsay stared after you as the chamber door clunked shut, shaking his head lightly but there was a vague smile on his lips.

You wished this had been a onetime occurrence but as the days and weeks went by Ramsay made it his mission to point out any missed spot, lose thread, untucked sheet that he could find. The longer he continued the harsher your snap backs became.

As you finished drawing his bath your head snapped up at the sound of fabric hitting the ground. You turned to see Ramsay stripping out of his tunic and tossing it to just beside where his dirty sheets were waiting for you to collect. “what do you think you’re doing?” You asked, venom dripping off your tongue.

“getting ready to bathe?” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “unless you would rather assist me,” he said making you roll your eyes as you finished setting his bath.

“not even in your dreams,” you said as you stood up straight, hands on hips. “that’s not my job,”

“your job,” Ramsay said as he stripped off his under shirt, tossing it right at you. You didn’t even attempt to catch it, letting it fall into the hot water. “is whatever I say it is. Whether that be to change my sheets, undress me, or bathe me in that bath you just lovingly drew,” he said with his sweetest smile he could muster. “understood?”

While you were secretly enjoying the view of a shirtless, and surprisingly toned Ramsay, you wanted to punch that pretty face. You looked down at the ground for a moment, praying for strength not to drown this man as you walked out from behind the bath, slowly walking up to him. “if you dare take your breeches off while I am in this room,” you said as you noticed his fingers on his laces, “or try make me bathe you I will cut your cock off,” you said, less than a foot from the new lord, “and make you choke on it. Understood?” You spoke.

Ramsay let you both stew in the silence for a moment but when you saw his eyes glance down at your heavy chest you scoffed and strode off to his chamber door, “I take my leave my lord,”

“I did not dismiss you,” Ramsay called after you, loving the sight of you walking away as your hips swayed.

You ignored the washing you were supposed to collect and ripped open the chamber door, “I did not ask to be dismissed,” you scoffed before slamming the door behind you. Or as much as you could that is. Ramsay chuckled as the door closed. He had plans for you yet.

You were sat in the servants’ quarters eating your morning meal as you gossiped with one of your friends sara when Layla approached the table making your whisper hush, “his lordships sent for you,” Layla said as she dropped in the seat beside you with her own meal.

“no,” you groaned, flinging your head back, “I don’t do him in the mornings remember that’s you and Amy’s time,”

Layla rolled her eyes as she began eating her meal, “be that as it may I showed up and he practically told me to fuck off and fetch you. So, fetch,”

“I’m not a dog,” you said as you shoved the last of your food down before standing.

Sara smirked at you as she took your leftovers, “then don’t act like a bitch,” you hummed in annoyance at her, knowing if she didn’t have the best dirt in the castle you’d never speak to her again.

When you arrived at Ramsay’s chambers you opened the door without knocking, a hand still on the handle as you waited instruction, “what is it my lord?” Ramsay was sitting in a chair by his window overlooking the courtyards. His eyes lazily turned to you as you noticed he’d yet to finish getting ready. If he was going to try make you shave his stubble you wondered if you’d slip and nick his throat, “not a morning person, are we?” He chuckled as he beckoned you to come in, “close the door love, I’m getting a chill,”

“don’t call me that,” you said as you shut the chamber door behind you.

“I can call you whatever I want,” Ramsay said as he stood from his chair, “and there’s nothing you can do about it. You hate that don’t you?” Ramsay smirked as he slowly began to cross the room, “that here I am, just some bastard son who now practically runs this place,”

“you’re not lord of Winterfell,” you scoffed at the Ramsay who still wore that cocky smirk. He hadn’t been so cocky before you remembered.

“yet,” Ramsay said, now only inches from you, “and here you are. Still just some servant girl- “

“im more than just a servant,”

“are you?” He asked, brushing your hair over your shoulder, leaning his head down to have his breath fan across your chest, “I could do anything I want to you right now and no one would even try stop me,”

“I would,” you said, standing as proud as you could as you glared at the man despite the weird lightness in your stomach. Gods what was wrong with you, you wondered. “you shouldn’t underestimate me,”

“underestimate you?” Ramsay laughed, finally stepping back and slowly pacing the room, “no, no love that’s where you’re wrong. I think you’re the bravest person in this castle. You’re the only one left with any fire,” he said, a spark tinkling in his eye.

“there is no fire in my blood. Only ice,” you said, watching as he slowly began circling you like a lion and his prey.

“they tell us northerners are stubborn,” Ramsay said, his eyes raking your body, “I wonder which one of us will win out,” he said before stopping behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you shrugged them off only for him to wrap them around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest as you tried to shove off his arms. His archery had done wonders for his muscles but that was not what you were supposed to be thinking of right now, “I have a proposition for you,”

“you said it yourself,” you said, groaning when you couldn’t shove his arms off, “I have no choice but to serve,”

Ramsay laughed, his chuckle vibrating against your spine, “normally I would agree but this time I will give you a choice. For once I will let you lead the charge, make the decisions,” he said, his nose nuzzling your ear, “in these chambers I will let you do whatever you want to me, to use me how you please,”

“you may not walk out here alive my lord,” you spat despite sudden ideas rushing to your head.

Ramsay chuckled again, wrapping his arms around you tighter, “there is a catch love,” he said, kissing behind your ear gently, “you cannot harm me. Cannot raise a weapon to me. Cannot kill me. But you can use me to satisfy any of your other needs,”

“please,” you scoffed, mocking offence to his suggestion, “you would be so lucky for me to use you,”

You gasped when Ramsay suddenly flipped you around, your chest now pressed into his and his hot breath fanning your face, his lips only an inch away, “don’t you want to feel in control for once? To order me around for once? Maybe this way you won’t be so defiant if you weren’t so tense,”

“you think fucking me will make me listen to you?” You spat your words at him, but Ramsay did not flinch at your venom as he held you close by your wrists, “who says I even want to sleep with you?”

Ramsay leant his head down closer, his lips brushing against yours, “now that I just don’t believe darling,” he said as if scolding a child, “it is wrong to lie to your lord,”

“no wronger for me to sleep with a man I have not wed,” you countered as Ramsay moved one of his hands to the small of your back, “besides I know you won’t listen to what I tell you to do,”

“I will,” he lied, “promise,” he never planned to keep it. You knew it, he knew it, the birds knew it, but that smirk on his face was making you had drunk on the idea.

“get on your knees,” you said, testing out his word. Ramsay dropped to his knees slowly, allowing his face to brush against your breasts before finally sinking to his knees, his hands resting on the backs of your knees.

“now what my lady?” He asked, kissing your knee over the fabric of your dress.

You paused for a moment; your breathing heavy as you considered your options. Ramsay’s hands slipped under your dress, slowly tracing up your calves to your lower thighs when you suddenly reached out, grabbing his hair by your hand. “I didn’t say touch me,” you said, stepping back from him slightly, “lay on the bed,”

“yes, my lady,” Ramsay said, standing as slowly as he had gone down this time his eyes glued to yours. Once he was finally stood, he lingered a moment his lips brushing yours before he turned away and stalked off to the bed. He fell into the middle of it, raising his torso up as he leaned on his elbows to look at you, “now what?”

“take off your breeches,” you said as you slowly approached the bed, leaning against the poster post to watch as he rid himself of fabric, “you listen better than I expected,” you said, a slight smirk on your lips.

“I can be good,” Ramsay said, laying back down after he tossed his last layer away leaving him bare in front of you, “when I want to,” he finished as he looked at you. You took a moment of silence to scan his frame. His stomach was toned, the ghost of abs pocking through. His arms even not flex you could tell were strong. Your eyes grazed down his body, landing on the sight of his cock. It was already hard, waiting for instruction, and red at the tip as if it was waiting for you.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, running your hand gently down his chest to his abs, down to his pelvis and finally trailing a finger up his manhood. You smiled when you saw him shudder at your touch. You took his cock in your hand, pumping it painfully slowly as you moved to kneel above his legs. Ramsay groaned when your hand fell away but his eyes lit up as he watched you slowly unlace your dress, discarding your own clothing one piece slowly at a time. He couldn’t rush you, not yet at least.

“anything I say?” You asked, leaning down till you could place a soft kiss to his chest.

Ramsay took the moment to appreciate the view of your ass before answering, “anything you say,”

You leant up, placing your hand on his chest as you moved up his body. For a moment Ramsay’s cock twitched, thinking in its excitement he would already receive your cunt, but he was not disappointed when you continued up his body till your already wet cunt was hovering his face. “You gonna be good for me?” You asked, reaching down to stroke his hair.

“yes, my lady,” Ramsay said, the warmth of his breath on your cunt making you shiver, “let me be good,” he said as his hands moved to gently hold your thighs, lowering you closer to his face.

Your hands took a hold of the headboard, lowering your body down the final inch till you felt Ramsay’s tongue gently lick up your folds. Ramsay held your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into flesh, as his tongue began to lap up your juices making you moan above him which only seemed to spear him on. You gasped when you felt his nose begin to nuzzle your clit.

You allowed yourself to be free as Ramsay’s tongue worked its wonders like a hungry dog. Your moans fell freely as you felt your body begin to tighten. Your hands reached up to play with your nipples over your shift, already being heard from the cold air. You could feel Ramsay’s smirk, his chuckle vibrating up your core as your body began to tense but you did not care as the pleasure bubbled and you began to ride his face, his nose perfectly rubbing your clit. You felt your legs turn to water as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue but did your best to remain steady as you dismounted him, moving back down to kneel over him just below his cock.

“someone looks happy,” Ramsay smirked as you caught your breath.

“shut up,” you snapped, taking his cock suddenly in your hand. Even Ramsay did not wish to test you when you held something so dear to him, “or you won’t like the outcome,” you said, slowly pumping his cock.

You shifted your body up, your cunt now above his cock. You slowly rubbed his tip up and down your folds making Ramsay groan, “be patient,” you are scolding with a smirk, “after all this was your idea,” you said, slowly sinking down onto his tip making Ramsay’s eyes screw shut in pleasure, “look at you,” you smirked down at him, “so desperate for me. Bet this is all you’ve been thinking of,” you said as you finally sunk all the way down, his cock now stretching you out to the fullest.

You placed your arms on his chest to steady yourself as you slowly began to grind your hips. Ramsay’s hips began to buck, desperate to speed the pace. You just tutted as your hand moved to hold his hip down, “nuh uh,” you scolded as you began to get lost in the pleasure as your own movements sped up but still not to his liking.

Ramsay growled and before you could stop him, he had grabbed your wrists, flipping you onto your back with your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, his cock still sheathed inside. Your eyes were wide as you stared up at him at a loss for words, “c’mon love,” Ramsay said as he slowly began to pull out, “you couldn’t possibly think you’re in charge,” he said before suddenly thrusting back in making you gasp, “how could you expect me to resist this,” he said, his deep slow thrusts continuing, knocking the wind out of you each time.

“such a pretty girl,” he said as he thrust in again, enjoying watching how your tits bounced, “shame you’ve got such a filthy mouth,” Ramsay said as he grabbed your jaw, sticking his thumb in your mouth to keep it open, “I think I need to teach you a lesson you see,” Ramsay said as his thrusts began to increase, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust, “that im the one in charge. Who’s in charge?” He asked, his lips moving to suck harsh hickeys onto your neck, moving his thumb to allow you to speak.

“you are,” you said but it came out as more of a moan. You hated him, you knew you did, you knew this was wrong, but gods how can something so wrong feel so good? “you are my lord,” you said as you wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to go deeper and making Ramsay groan and curse under his breath.

Ramsay let go of your jaw but only to hold your throat, squeezing the sides gently at first as you began to go lightheaded from a mixture of pleasure and pain as he left bites along your collarbone. This new position also allowed his pelvis to rub against your clit which only made your cunt tighten around his cock even more. “this is what happens when you talk back,” Ramsay grunted, his hand moving from your throat to squeeze at your breasts, pinching your nipples harshly.

“then I shall talk back more often,” you said but it was mixed with gasps and moans. You moaned even louder when your words seemed to speed up Ramsay’s pace. You couldn’t stop yourself from enjoying it even less so when you felt your body tightening, another wave of pleasure rushing over you, but Ramsay was not done yet.

You felt your body twitching, your legs staring to slip from his waist as you came down from your high, “not yet,” Ramsay grunted, shoving your legs back around his waist, “im not done with you yet,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck while his hand slipped between your body to rub sloppy circles on your sensitive clit.

You could feel Ramsay’s cock twitching inside you, but he was determined for one more show out of you and it was not hard for him to get it as he bit down on your skin one last time. Your moan was louder than all the rest as you came for the third time and finally Ramsay could no longer control himself as he grabbed the headboard to steady himself before fucking you full of his seed.

Ramsay was panting as he fell in bed beside you, both of you staring at the ceiling in silence as you caught your breath. You did not know where to go from here, but you knew one thing; you were defiantly a morning person now.

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