#[ p: the sea is wine red ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slaytheusurper · 7 days ago

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⭑ Family Secrets ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: (s)creaming-

Request: No

Pairing: Perv!Aemond x Niece!reader

Warnings: NFSW, +18 mdni, male mastrubation, aemond fr being a nasty perv be warned no but like fr, female mastrubation/pillow humping, making out, dirty talk in high valyrian, p in v sex and creampie.

Summary: Aemond finds it hard to control his sick desires for his niece and can't help but play with her.

Word count: 5k

The sea waves crashed against the side of the large Targaryen fleet, nerves flowed through you at every shake of the wooden planks. Usually a voyage on the sea didn’t scare you in any way but the windy and stormy morning made it a lot less pleasant. Your brothers however didn’t seem to mind, the clinging of their swords ringing through the air.

They loved to practise whenever they could, and if you didn’t feel so unnerved by the weather you would’ve joined them. You were glad to see one of the servants coming towards you with a flagon of wine. Raising your cup she swiftly filled it with the red liquid. Sipping on the strong dornish wine, you tried to focus on anything but the assault of the waves.

The dragon calls could be heard above, Caraxes, Syrax, your own dragon, Vermax and Arrax soared along the ship. The walls shielded you from the sight of them though. The amber glow from the candles filled the darkened royal cabin, secluded on the quarterdeck of the ship.

The dark clouds shielded the sun from shining its warmth on the waves of the sea and so even on the ship it was quite chilly. But nothing ran a shiver up your spine more than your family's return to King’s Landing. You didn’t understand the need for it but you didn’t have the nerve to tell your mother that.

The future queen was filled with dread herself, you noticed. Word had reached Dragon Stone from Alicent that King Viserys was in a bad condition and even though they had their differences, she felt like a reunion between father and daughter would do her husband some good.

And so the morning after the raven arrived, you had set sail. You wondered how your family was doing, but with the likely chances of this whole visit ending badly, you wished you could only wonder. But there was no turning back now as you looked out the small window and The Red Keep came into view.

And so it was only about half an hour later when your weakened legs stepped onto the shores of King’s Landing, a coach and some members of the King’s Guard waiting for you. Following your mother and Daemon, with your brothers behind you, a hand reached out to help you inside.

The rattling coach did not help calm you as you anticipated the whole ordeal, your mother spoke softly with Daemon about sending for maester Gerardys and your brothers both silently stared out the window. Everybody was tense, the unspoken past lingered in the air. It was only six years ago that your sweet younger brother Luke, took Aemond’s eye.

Even though a little boy like him had no idea what he had done, it was still a grave wound that cut the family in half. What only made the situation worse was the bullying Aegon had led, making it seem like Luke had done it on purpose. Your uncle and yourself were never necessarily friends either, but at the least friendly with each other.

But who could blame him for hating all of you from that moment on? No one. It was only fueled by Alicent as well, her own spite for her step-daughter and her bastards burning inside her. Alas after all these years, you would have to face each other again.

After what seemed ages you finally arrived within the courtyard of The Red Keep, the door of the coach opened and your mother stepped out as a shrill voice announced her, Daemon followed and so did you and your brothers. There, only a few paces in front of the coach were Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, Otto and three of the small council members.

Your mother went first to greet them, Daemon by her side, hand on the hilt of his sword. Dragons could be heard and seen flying in circles above you, it gave you comfort that your own dragon was close, if something were to happen. You took a deep breath and followed with your brothers to greet Alicent, Otto and your uncles and aunt. It was awkward enough and thank the gods over quickly.

When you were led inside, nostalgia was the last thing you felt as you peered over your mother’s shoulder. All the Targaryen heraldry had been replaced, all with stars of the faith of the seven. You knew Alicent was quite religious but never had you thought she would dare such an insult.

You could already hear the grumbles of Daemon in front of you, and you shared a look with Jace and Luke. You were all led to a more familiar place, the dining hall where you would share some food together at the start of the afternoon. You were glad when your place was between your brothers, it felt safer. A buffer of sorts.

Servants filed in with various fruits, wines, breads and spreads for you to indulge in and it became a little less tense when there was some food to chew on. Since you had grown quite the appetite from the horrendous voyage here, you gathered some of your favourites on your plate and shared some quiet conversation with Jace and Luke.

It was better to keep them distracted and apart from Aemond, who sat at the other end. After a while, Alicent rose from her seat, cup in hand. “I wish to give a toast, to the Princess Rhaenyra. The circumstances of which we have gathered here are grim, but nevertheless it is a pleasure to receive you, and your family. To the princess.” She uttered, a bit too appropriate.

Everyone raised their cups and took a sip, it was all very stale and tense. But you could tell that especially Aegon and Aemond tried to keep as quiet and ‘nice’ as possible. Helaena seemed almost out of it and Otto kept to himself. It was just Alicent who engaged in some polite conversation with your mother and Daemon, but always about the king.

It was quite dreadful, but when everyone seemed finished, the children were excused to explore their old home and get accustomed again, while the adults went to pay a visit to the king. Your heart rose when you realised there would only be guards around to keep an eye on you and your brothers.

Your mother and most importantly Daemon wouldn’t be able to defend you now, if anything happened. Both of your brothers joined your side as you strolled through the halls of the Red Keep. “Luke, I probably don’t have to say this but still, just- watch your back. He probably won’t try anything but I saw the way he looked at us, at you.” You whispered to your right. You noticed the way Luke’s shoulders tensed but he simply nodded.

“Will you join us in the training yard?” Jace asked, a bit too chirpy. “Maybe I’ll visit you later, I need some air in the gardens, at least I can be certain I won’t bump into our uncles there.” He gave you a soft smile and then took off with Luke to the yard beyond the doors, two guards following them outside.

“Shall I escort you princess?” Ser Erryk asked, joining your side. “Has my mother asked you to keep an eye on me Ser?” He gave you an awkward smile. “Yes princess,” his next words fell to a whisper, “it would be safer.” You only gave him a nod and he stepped back a pace, making sure you still had your own space.

When you stepped outside, the sun had finally made an appearance. A quiet sigh left your lips and the smell of flowers and various plants filled your nose. It was almost the only place left untouched by Alicent and her stars. You strolled through the gardens, took in all the flowers and birds. Even the beautiful butterflies that were almost magically flying around.

A while later you stumbled across a bright ladybug resting on the leaf of a bush. You admired it for a while, having no idea someone was also admiring you...

Aemond’s POV

He was quite grateful the strong bastards kept to themselves. As soon as he had entered the training yard, in search of Criston Cole, the both of them left as soon as they caught sight of the common louts admiring the training weapons. Only a brief look was shared and Cole joined him to turn back inside.

“It is an insult to us, their presence alone. I can come to terms with the fact they live in my ancestors castle far away from us, but them being here now-” Aemond got cut off by Cole. “It is repulsive, them being here. But the best we can do is keep our distance, only look in their direction or even speak to them when absolutely necessary.”

Aemond nodded, “Fucking mongrels, the girl is lucky to have silver hair or they would have her head the second her arse sat on the throne. But who knows, after my sister is dead, what will become of my niece?” He smirked, before turning towards his own chambers. His only place of safety and solitude.

Only he got distracted when he passed a window that overlooked the gardens. There she was, the lucky girl. To Aemond’s displeasure, she looked almost ethereal. The now softened wind breezing through her long silver curls, the sun making her hair almost glow. Her purple eyes inspecting a nearby bug or butterfly he would imagine.

What made his mouth turn even more sour was where his eye almost naturally shifted to. Her body. She had rather matured and was only two years younger than him, her body now...more grown. Beautiful hips, tits that bulged slightly out of the top of her bodice. Long fingers adorned with rings, a necklace resting on her chest.

He scolded himself for even stopping in his tracks in the first place. Her Valyrian features linger in his mind as he resumes to his chambers. Once there he tried to distract himself with some studying. He could hardly focus on the words, when her tits kept reappearing in his mind. Then it only got worse, his mind drifted off while he sat at his desk.

Cock swelling alive at the thought of ripping that gown off her, her nipples would harden through her shift because of the breeze, her curves on better display through her smallclothes. But he would rip that off too, display her nakedness for all to see. Then he would get her on her knees, mouth open, tongue out and ready for him.

His cock was now pulsing, the outline of it extremely visible through his pants. He swiftly undid them and already found that precum stained his breeches. He palmed his cock and hissed at the sensitivity, he loved to wait a longer period between pleasuring himself, knowing that the sensation would be far better.

Even though he wanted to wait just one more day, he couldn’t help himself; he was way too aroused. He started to softly tug the skin over the head of his cock, face contorted in pleasure, a grunt left his lips. Fuck it felt good. He didn’t care what anyone would think, all that filled his mind was his pretty little niece.

Seven hells, the way she would gag and tear up around his cock as he fucked his cock in her mouth. Not giving a shit that they’d be out in public, gods she would probably touch herself too, the little whore she is. He could imagine it all too well, the way her tongue would glide over his sensitive skin. Would she know to lick his slit? Suck on his balls to give him even more pleasure? Even if she did not, he would teach her, corrupt her.

He could feel himself get closer and closer, tugging on his cock faster, his loud breathing filled his chambers, his groans bouncing off the walls. He moved his free hand to massage his stones, a whine leaving his lips at the added stimulation. Imagining it was her. With only a couple more tugs and firmer fondles on his balls, ropes of cum painted his thighs, hands and some on the cold stone floor.

He jerked himself a bit more, to fully empty his satiated balls until he got too sensitive, before fetching a rag to clean his hands and the floor up. Opting for a change of pants either way. Then an idea came to his mind, a sick and disgusting idea. He grabbed his cum covered pants and rolled them up to disguise the item.

He knew exactly what chamber she resided in, it was one of the chambers that was connected to the secluded and utmost secretive halls that Maegor created. And so he moved one of the books in the library, almost no one remained in the halls as it was already close to supper so he had free reign.

The book allowed for a door to open, hidden as just another bookshelf and Aemond stepped inside, even just the thought of what he was about to do made excitement fill his chest. He used the torch he fetched off one off the walls in the hallways to navigate the dark secret corridors.

His cum soiled pants still clutched tightly in his hands as he let the flame guide him, soon enough he was certain he had reached the right wall. He opened the small wooden door and entered a small and short hallway, a wooden screen blocking his way, but he discovered he could open it slightly and peer inside, only to be met with a thinner tapestry.

And pleasantly sensed he could see through the fabric art that hung inside her chamber, and as if the gods had willed it so, she was still out. Her bed was on the opposite side of the room and his mind only filled with more perverted ideas as he realised he could watch her here at night. A new pastime he could enjoy, and she would have no idea.

Placing the torch in an empty holder in the small hallway. He moved the screen and tapestry to the side and strolled over to her bed. He could feel his cock swell alive again as he placed his pants on her bed, not fully spreading it out yet. He wanted to watch her unfold them, and question what the stickiness on it was.

Satisfied with his work, he was certain she must return soon to freshen up before supper. He knew ladies always did. So he left her chambers and waited for her behind the slightly ajar wooden screen, making sure the tapestry covered it again. His perfect little hiding spot. It seemed as if hours passed yet it was only about twenty minutes when the door opened and she entered.

Your POV

“Would you need the help of a handmaiden, your grace?” Ser Erryk politely asked. You shook your head, “That won’t be necessary, thank you. I’ll be quick.” He nodded curtly and closed the door of your chamber behind you. You walked over to the vanity against the wall and found that your household had already unpacked your jewelry, you wanted to change your earrings and necklace for a nicer pair and then would head right to supper.

When you had finished changing them out, you felt a weird sensation. You peered around the room but of course no one was there, right? You blamed the long morning for your weird feelings but then spotted something on your bed. Has one of the servants readied something for you? You walked over to your bed to find out what it was.

It was a black fabric, leather, and looked like what seemed to be pants. Your face twisted in confusion and grabbed it to unfold them and confirm your suspicion. Further confusion washed over your face as the pants were not only for men but they were dirty. Was this some twisted joke?

You quickly let go of it and it fell to the floor, you thought of fetching a maid to get it out but then thought against it. What if they thought you had a man in here and your innocence was ruined? It was too big a risk, then your eyes shifted to the fireplace. Filled with disgust you grabbed the leather pants by the end of the leg and dragged it to the flames, throwing in the pants.

The room filled with an uncomfortable smell of the charring leather and you hurriedly went outside, Ser Erryk trailing behind you as you made your way to the dining hall.

Aemond’s POV

His hand undid the laces of his pants as he watched you eye the black material with caution. Palming his cock as you now dropped it to the floor with disgust. His lips fell agape as he tugged on his cock, feeling more aroused and sensitive than ever before. Fuck it felt even better then the very first time he mastrubated.

He felt his release near when you had thrown the soiled pants in the fire, the smell of burning leather somehow turning him on even more. He stifled his groans with his mouth as he jerked himself to release, his cum painted the floor and his hand, as he was careful not to stain his clean pants this time.

He cleaned his hand up with his own mouth and left the floor for what it was. He moved his now soft cock back in his breeches. Lacing his pants up again, he started his walk to one of the hallways of the Red Keep, he kept his ear to the unassuming door and heard nothing. He found the small servants hallway empty and quickly made his way to the dining hall.

Your POV

Heads raised as Aemond walked in, a soft satisfied smile on his face. “You're late.” Otto spoke. “I had matters to attend to.” He replied coldly before taking his seat. You avoided his gaze as you could feel it on you and continued picking at the rabbit meat before you. The sticky pants had never left your mind.

Supper was not so much different from your shared meal earlier, still polite conversations and the table almost split in half. But this time your eyes kept glancing back at Aemond. Why was he so content all of a sudden? Maybe he just had a good training in the yard with Cole, as you heard they spent a lot of time training together.

You decide to ignore it and finish the remainder of your meal, before long you were excused once again, and this time decided to head straight to your chambers. A bath and a good book afterwards would calm you. And so it did, after a nice hot bath and slipping into a fresh clean nightgown, you had read a bit of your new found book and lulled into a deep sleep, but still Aemond’s eye felt like it never left you.

The following days were filled with garden visits, sowing work with Helaena and some other ladies of court and avoiding your 'green' family at all costs. But much to your surprise it seemed Alicent and your mother got along pretty well, which could only be bad for you.

Happy memories of King’s Landing never left your mind at the cold and stormy island of Dragon Stone, but now you missed it and you missed your dragon. So on the fourth day after your arrival, you headed to the dragonpit along with Jace and Luke. You felt like you could stay on dragonback forever, with your brothers flying close to you but the sun was setting and it was time to head back.

After a meal shared with just your brothers as the three of you were too late for supper, you found yourself back in your chambers. But not without some entertainment, one of the ladies of court was a pleasant company, and you felt relief wash over you as her laughter and humorous jokes fell on your ears.

You were the same age and shared similar personalities, her father was a member of the small council and so she had the pleasure of the Red Keep’s walls protecting her, as well as learning all the gossip and the secrets, which she gladly shares with you. And so she shared all she knew, of how horrible a marriage Helaena and Aegon had, how their children were so unhappy and of putting.

But then she said something that really caught your attention. “I heard one of the maids the other day, she said she was certain she could hear prince Aemond, well- how do I put this, having… fun? With himself? If you catch my meaning.” She giggled. Your mouth fell open and a loud laugh left you.

“I do catch your meaning!” You laughed, she couldn’t help but laugh too. You couldn’t believe it, you never knew men did that too. Your knowledge went as far as that they used whores when they had urges. You thought only women did it, since many men didn’t care about women’s pleasure.

She filled you in on much and more, about how many were certain Aegon has a thing for unflowering maidens and how Larys Clubfoot had an obsession with feet. Much to your dismay, it had grown late and she sadly had to go to her own chambers. As you said your goodbyes, you couldn’t help but feel it again. Like someone was watching you.

You shook off the feeling and called for your handmaiden to ready you for bed. She took down your hair from your beautiful braids that day, helped you undress and bathe. Then she waved your hair in a single braid and helped you into your nightgown. When she left, you slipped into bed, however tonight, sleep could not find you.

You went over the day, as you usually did when you couldn’t sleep. But your mind kept hanging on to what your new friend said, Aemond pleasuring himself. You tried to think back on your flight today but you couldn’t help it. Why was the thought so erotic to you? You shouldn’t think about your uncle this way but still, your hand snaked down between your thighs.

Your cunt throbbed with desire, and you lifted your ass a bit to lift up your nightgown, as it was a hotter day, you had nothing underneath. Your fingers caressed your folds and you couldn’t help the whimper falling from your lips. But it wasn’t enough, you craved more. Then something occurred to you, you shoved the blankets off you and grabbed your pillow.

You knelt on the bed and placed the pillow between your thighs, nerves flowing through you as well as excitement. When you thought the pillow was well placed on the long side of it, you sank down on it and leaned forward a bit. When you felt the position was good, you experimentally grinded your clit against it.

An uncontrollable moan left your lips and you hoped Ser Erryk hadn’t heard anything, you stilled for a moment but nothing happened, so you resumed. You rolled your hips against the pillow again and you allowed for soft whines to leave your lips. The rough but soft enough fabric against your clit had your mind dazed.

You humped the pillow like a bunny in heat, your clit getting the perfect stimulation from your pillow. Soft moans left you as you chased your release and you couldn’t help but imagine your dear uncle. So you let it consume you and let your desire for him flow through you. It made you burn with arousal and you imagined you were humping his lap instead.

It didn’t take long for your peak to overcome you, and you frantically humped the pillow as you were near. The bed creaked with your wild movements and you couldn’t help but moan his name, you were so so close. With a louder whine of ‘Aemond, I’m cumming uncle!’ Your orgasm exploded and your thighs clenched the pillow between them hard. And with a few more grinds, you let yourself fall to your side, mind completely fogged and in bliss.

Then a loud scratch of wood on stone, pulled you out of your daze. You gasped and quickly pulled your blankets over yourself to cover your nakedness. Your eyes were met with Aemond’s single one as he emerged from behind the screen, he walked over to the foot of your bed.

“W-what are you doing here? Get out, at once, get out.” You stammered. But he just smiled. “Is that what you wish? I could give you far more pleasure than your pillow ever could niece.” Your face fell at his words and you held your breath as he came over to the side of your bed. “I heard what you and your little friend talked about, and I bet that it turned you on, didn’t it.”

It was hard to deny since you just came with his name on your lips but you couldn’t speak. Frozen in shock. “Hm. Don’t worry, I think about you too, when I’m having fun with myself.” He smiled. Realisation dawned on your face. “The pants.” Aemond grinned. “A little gift from me, did you like it?”

You couldn’t help but feel wet at the thought that they were from him, but you quickly reprimanded yourself. It was wrong, not only him being here but everything about this was wrong. “Oh come on, you moaned my name so sweetly just now. Don’t you want your Kepus to actually pleasure you?” You could only shake your head.

“Aemond- no, no it’s wrong. We can’t.” He chuckled in response. “Are we going to ignore that your mother is married to her uncle? So how is it wrong? You are mine. And I will have you.” He then raised his knee and climbed on your bed, but you made no move to run from him. Too excited to see what he would do next. “I see you are staying put, you can say no all you want, but I know how much you want me, as much as I want you.”

“Ivestragon nyke, gaomagon ao gīmigon īlva muña ēngos?” Tell me, do you know our mother tongue? You nodded, “Gaoman Kepus.” I do uncle. “Sȳz riña.” Good girl. Aemond smiled. Then his hand moved to the edge of your blanket which you were still using to cover yourself. He pulled it off you and let his eye roam over your naked form.

“Fuck.” He whispered, he was already wet in his pants due to the amount of precum that leaked out of him at the sight of your humping, but now he couldn’t wait. “Gaomagon ao pendagon kostā gūrogon nyke? Kostagon mazemā aōha Kepus?” Do you think you can take me? Can you take your uncle? You knew the weight of his words but desire and lust clouded your senses, your will to refuse.

“Kessa, Nyke jorrāelagon ao sīr olvie Kepus.” Yes, I need you so much uncle. He hurriedly unlaced his pants at your words and took his cock from his breeches, stroking himself at the sight of your tits. But he was a gentleman and wouldn’t treat you like a whore. So he fully undressed, and crawled on top of you.

“Vūjigon nyke tala.” Kiss me niece. You lifted your head to meet his lips, you gave him a peck but that did not satisfy him, he pulled you back and kissed you with greed. His lips harshly moving against you, his hand then massaged your breast, making you gasp against his lips. Then his tongue invaded your mouth.

His hand moved to your cunt and he let his finger inside. He let go of your lips so that the both of you could catch your breath. “Still wet for me aren’t you, so warm and slick.” He groaned, retreating his finger to grab the base of his cock instead. “Kostilus Kepus.” Please uncle.

He had mercy, and let the tip of his cock glide through your folds, before carefully prodding in his tip. He moved just the tip in and out of you for a while, letting you get accustomed to the new sensation. But you were never one for patience. “Sepār gūrogon nyke Kepus, gūrogon nyke. Mazverdagon nyke aōhon” Just take me uncle, take me. Make me yours.

He shuddered at your words, and let his length fully sheath inside of you, the both of you moaning at the stretch and tightness. When he noticed you weren’t in much pain he began to move, rubbing your pearl as he thrusted up into you. You bit your lip to keep as quiet as possible, but the way you uncle was fucking you, made that quite hard.

He groaned and moaned shamelessly. The squelching of your shared juices and the creaking of your bed enveloping your chamber. Soon he sped up his movements and his balls slapped loudly against your ass. Only adding to the sensation. “Kesan mazverdagon ao ñuhon, leghagon ao, mazverdagon aōha iemny hōzigon.” I will make you mine, fill you, make your belly swell.

You finally audibly moaned at his words and it earned you a groan from him. Your uncle was filling you up so good, who could blame you? His cock pounding into you as he rubbed your sensitive clit made you actually see stars as you squeezed your eyes shut. And for the second time tonight, you moaned his name. Your tight walls clenching around his cock making him pant louder and roll his eye back.

He didn’t stop as you came down from your peak, grinding his hips fiercely against you when he cried out your name, his warm seed filling you. He humped his high out a bit and made sure to fully empty himself. When he had calmed too, he removed his now soft cock out of you, making you wince. “Gaomagon daor zūgagon, kesā daor jikagon arlī naejot Dragon Stone.” Do not fear, you will not go back to Dragon Stone.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #hotd smut #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x fem reader smut #aemond targaryen x fem reader

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pedroscurls · 2 months ago

Text

you put a spell on me (one-shot)

summary: hugh attends a masquerade-themed party and you capture his attention the moment you step into the building. pairing: hugh jackman x fem! reader content warnings: smut (18+, mdni), fingering, oral - m receiving, multiple orgasms (from reader), missionary (legs over hugh’s shoulders obvi), doggy style, cowgirl, light spanking, unprotected p in v sex (be safe folks!), creampie , no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k a/n: so after all the shit that’s happened in the last twenty four hours, I just needed to write something and Hugh’s most recent post is the inspiration of this story. song lyrics are in italics btw. hope you all enjoy! this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. song: you put a spell on me by austin giorgio

A masquerade ball.

Hugh was speaking with Ryan and Blake when someone caught the corner of his eye. Turning to look in your direction, he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of you descending the stairs to the main dance floor.

Everyone else in this ballroom was either dressed in tones of black, white, and gold, but you… the color of your deep wine red dress adds just the right amount of color to this room. He can’t help but let his eyes take in your frame - the gown trails behind you so elegantly and serene as you walk, an a-line cut with a slit that reveals your leg, an empire waist that clings to every curve, and the slightly puffy sleeves of your dress makes you look so angelic. When you turn slightly, he takes note of the open back as well, biting his lower lip.

There’s a familiarity to you, that maybe he’s seen you before, maybe even talked to you before too. Hugh watches your eyes sweep the area and when your eyes meet his, he lets the corner of his lips turn upwards and then he sees you bite your lower lip, returning his smile with one of your own.

But you’re wearing a masquerade mask, just like he is, just like everyone else in this room is. He can’t tell if he knows you, can’t decide if he should just go up to you and strike up a conversation because if he could hear your voice, it’ll at least give him some idea of who you might be.

Hugh has to peel his eyes away from you for a moment, turning his attention back to Ryan who’s staring at him with a big grin.

“What?” Hugh asks, bringing a hand up to adjust the mask on his face.

“You gonna talk to her?”

“I don’t know her,” Hugh admits. “Or at least I don’t think I do.”

“Well, go and find out.” Blake says with a smile, gently nudging him with her arm.

“Yeah?” Hugh asks. “You think it won’t be awkward?”

“Well, what was awkward was watching you stare at her like you wanted something, if you get what I mean,” Ryan teases.

Hugh rolls his eyes and lets out a quiet chuckle. He runs a hand through his hair and then straightens out his bow tie as he nods at Ryan and Blake before he leaves the table in search of you.

Hugh scans the entire room, trying to catch a glimpse of your red dress in the sea of black, white and gold, but he can’t seem to find you. He places his hands in his pockets as he continues to walk casually throughout the room, stopping every now and then to talk with someone he knows. Even in the midst of the conversations, Hugh’s eyes still search for you.

Just one glimpse, he tells himself. Hugh just needs to see the color of your dress and then he’ll be able to get to you.

He excuses himself from another conversation and then decides to walk towards the bar. Hugh sighs to himself, not having found you since you first stepped into the building. He takes the champagne glass from the bartender and then turns his gaze back to the entire room. Very briefly, does he see a glimpse of your smile. His eyes move lower and notices the color of your dress.

It’s you, finally.

Taking a deep breath, Hugh takes another glass of champagne and walks in your direction. It takes less than ten seconds to get to you, the person you had been talking to leaving you alone conveniently as he moves to stand next to you.

“Refill?” Hugh asks quietly, handing you the glass of champagne.

You smile up at him and Hugh feels his heart race even faster. You don’t say anything, instead you just give him a thankful nod and take the glass of champagne from him, your fingers brushing against his.

“I’m Hugh,” he says with a small smile.

“I know,” you finally tell him.

Your voice is quiet and he can’t tell if he’s heard it before, so he leans in closer. Hugh can hear your breath hitch and it gives him just the right amount of confidence to ask you a question.

“And you? What’s your name?”

You lift the glass of champagne to your lips and take a small sip. “Well, what’s the fun in that if I just tell you,” you tease, whispering quietly.

Hugh smiles and pulls back to look down at you. All of a sudden, no one else in this room matters but you. Everyone fades into the background and all he can see is you.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Well, do we know each other? Have we met before?”

“We’ve met before, yes.”

Hugh bites the inside of his cheek but he can’t focus. He just wants to reach out and slowly lift the mask from your eyes so he can get a clear view of who you are.

“Have we worked together?” Hugh asks.

“I think I should be offended that you can’t tell who I am,” you laugh quietly.

Your laugh. The way your smile lights up your entire face. There’s that sense of familiarity all over again and it’s a fleeting moment where he suddenly realizes where he knows you from. The after party for Deadpool & Wolverine. He remembered leaving that night with a huge smile on his face after spending the entire night talking with you.

That was months ago and while you two have had brief conversations between then and now through social media, neither of you ever tried to pursue each other. Though, there was an obvious attraction, an obvious pull that you felt towards one another.

Hugh doesn’t ask anymore questions about you, but instead he watches you finish your glass of champagne. He smiles to himself and finishes his own glass before he takes yours and sets both glasses down on a nearby table.

“Would you like to dance?” Hugh asks, large hand extending out for you.

Gently, you place your hand in his and nod, stepping closer to him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Hugh smiles to himself and leads you to the dance floor, his free hand moving to rest on your lower back. He feels your other hand come to rest on his shoulder as he’s careful not to step on the ends of your dress. Even under the shadows of the dance floor, Hugh can see you so clearly.

you put a spell on me

I’m losing my mind

As the song begins, Hugh sways with you, hand splaying on your lower back as he feels your skin underneath his fingertips. He bites his lower lip, staring into your eyes through his own mask. He feels a bit at ease with the mask, like everyone else in the room won’t be focusing on the two of you and how you’re both becoming increasingly closer.

you better stop things

it’s a matter of time

You can feel his fingertips run lightly along your back as his eyes remain locked on yours. Since meeting him, Hugh had occupied your thoughts and the brief conversations you had with him always left you yearning for more. It was easy to talk to him; it felt so natural and he always made you laugh.

Hugh pulls you flush against him, your body pressing firmly against his as the song continues.

before I hunt you down

grab your chin

and kiss your lips

Your eyes move to his lips, biting down on your lower lip in anticipation. The tension between the both of you thickens and your hand on his shoulder moves to rest on his chest, the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt tensing and flexing at your touch.

you bring me back

I lay you down

and grab your hips

Hugh then drops your hand and moves both of his own to rest on your hips, gripping them tightly as he lowers his head to press his forehead lightly against yours. Quietly, almost above a whisper, Hugh finally says your name with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“Y–You figured it out,” you say.

“Knew it the minute you smiled at me,” Hugh replies.

As you continue to sway on the dance floor with him, your own hands move to wrap around his neck, linking your fingers together to rest at the nape of his neck.

I put a spell on you

and now you’re mine

I’ve got a hold on you

at least for the night

“Do you wanna get out of here?” You ask him hesitantly, looking into his eyes hopefully.

Hugh nods instantly. “Yes,” he answers.

—

When you finally get to his penthouse, you walk inside and look around, still wearing your mask. You gasp quietly when you feel his strong hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. He slowly lifts his mask off and away from his face, his hazel eyes now glimmering with excitement.

He’s so handsome, so beautiful and breathtaking. Hugh then reaches up to slowly lift the mask away from your face, eyes gazing directly into your own once he removes it completely. He feels his heart race faster again at the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

“Hugh?” You ask, hand coming up to gently run along the lapel of his white suit jacket.

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me, please.”

Hugh nods and then leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. His hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers splaying against the side of your neck. Your own hands move to the lapels of his white suit jacket, gripping it lightly as you begin to move your lips with his own. You’ve imagined this so many times, but you never thought that it would feel this perfect.

His free hand moves to rest on your hip, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of your dress. Hugh darts his tongue out to tease your lips and when you let out a gasp, his tongue slides in your mouth to meet your own. The grip around his jacket tightens further and you feel a familiar throbbing between your legs, your wetness now staining the panties you have on.

Hugh pulls away from the kiss momentarily to look down at you. You’ve occupied his mind since meeting you and the brief conversations you did share has always left him wondering if this could be more. He didn’t want to push this, push you, into something that wouldn’t become anything but the moment he knew it was you, Hugh realized he wanted you. Bad.

He’s staring into your eyes, searching for any doubt in your features. Hugh drops his hand to rest on the side of your neck, thumb now brushing against your collarbone. “Tell me…” he sighs. “Tell me I’m not the only one that feels something here.”

“You’re not,” you admit. “I’ve been– Since the night of the party, I kind of expected you to ask me out or…” you feel the heat in your cheeks rise and you bite your lower lip. “I thought maybe I had just imagined it.”

The hand on your hip moves to your back, fingertips grazing your skin as he dips it lower and lower beneath the fabric of your dress. “I didn’t want to scare you away,” he confesses.

“I don’t think you ever could.” You move your hands up his chest and slowly undo his bow tie, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

“And if we do this?” Hugh asks, hopefully.

“Well, if we do this,” you say quietly, your fingers slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not going to be just a one time thing… but if you want it to be a one time thing, then we should probably establish–”

Hugh shakes his head and interjects, “it’s not going to be a one time thing.”

You smile up at him, your fingertips grazing the exposed skin on his chest as you continue to unbutton his shirt. “Good. Take me to your room?”

“Yes,” Hugh breathes out. He steps back and away from you, taking your hand in his and leading you to his main bedroom upstairs. You don’t even have time to look around, to get acquainted with his personal space that he allowed you to get a glimpse of because the moment you step inside, Hugh gently sets you on the edge of his large mattress.

You watch him get rid of his bow tie and white jacket, discarding it on the floor. You’re about to reach down to remove your heels, but Hugh drops to his knees in front of you, taking one foot to slide the heel off. You clear your throat, hands resting on the edges of the mattress as Hugh proceeds to your other foot to remove your heel. Slowly, he lifts the ends of your dress to reveal more of your legs, his fingertips hovering lightly over you.

Once your dress bunches up at the waist and he gets a clear view of your matching red lace thong, he has to reach down to squeeze his throbbing erection. Hugh leans in and presses soft kisses on your inner thigh, the stubble of his beard and his sideburns grazing your skin and causing a shiver to run through your body.

Hugh stares up at you, eyes silently asking for permission. When he sees you nod, Hugh moves further between your legs, his nose brushing against your clothed sex. It causes a gasp to escape your lips, eyes falling shut as nudges you with the bridge of his nose.

“Hugh,” you whimper. “Please, baby…”

Hugh smirks and pulls away to look up at you. He stands up – albeit with protest from you – and takes your hand. Once you’re standing in front of him, he reaches for the zipper on the side of your dress and lowers it until the dress becomes loose around your frame. He feels your hands come back up to finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and once it’s fully unbuttoned, you push it off his shoulders and the shirt drops to the floor. He’s now completely shirtless and your eyes deviate to his strong and chiseled chest. You lean in and gently nip along his collarbone, hands coming up to graze his abdomen and up his chest.

Hugh lets out a quiet moan at your touch. Slowly, he takes your hands and presses a soft kiss on your knuckles before he reaches out to pull down your dress. Once it pools around your ankles, he feels his breath catch in his throat yet again. You’re standing in front of him in a deep red lace bra and matching thong set.

“You’re breathtaking,” he compliments. “Fuck,” he adds.

Hugh has always looked at you like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, has always given you his undivided attention, and right now is no different. You’d usually be very conscious about your body, about how you look, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel very confident and secure in your skin.

“I think it’s only fair we take these off, huh?” You say, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You can see his obvious bulge from beneath his slacks, can see the outline of him and you feel only slightly nervous because he looks big. At least, bigger than you’ve ever had before.

Hugh nods and then undoes his pants, quickly stepping out of them as he kicks his shoes off. He’s wearing black boxer briefs and you slowly reach out to rest your palm over him, his girth and size not a match for your hand. You’re tugging on his boxers, tugging on the fabric to pull it away from him, but Hugh shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist instead.

“Gotta see you first, baby,” he whispers, lips grazing your jawline. Then, Hugh sets you on the middle of his bed, biting his lower lip at the sight of you all splayed out for him. He quickly moves to settle himself between your legs, making sure to press himself against you. When he feels you roll your hips, Hugh lets out a groan.

Hugh reaches around you and unclasps your bra, pulling it slowly away from your body. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes moving to your now exposed breasts and he pushes further into you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, pulling it down your legs. “Gonna keep these,” he growls, bringing the fabric up to his nose and inhales your scent.

You bite your lower lip and nod up at him, watching him set your panties on his nightstand. When you look back up at him, Hugh’s eyes scan every inch of your naked frame, almost like he’s committing it to memory. When he presses his clothed length against you, he feels your wetness stain the fabric of his briefs.

Hugh slowly lowers himself further to press light kisses on your collarbone, lips moving further and further until he wraps his lips around your nipple. He groans to himself and uses his free hand to begin kneading your unattended breast. Hugh feels your hips continue to roll upwards into him and he’s throbbing so painfully beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs. He pulls back, flicking his tongue against your nipple before he moves to give the same attention to your other breast.

“Oh god,” you whimper. Hugh smiles to himself and moves a hand between your legs, a finger slowly grazing your exposed sex. You’re already so wet, juices building and trickling down to his sheets. He slides the tip of his finger into your heat, growling against you as he feels your walls tighten around him, sucking him in.

He slides his finger further into your heat, pulling away from your breast to look up at you. Hugh rests his forehead against your temple, whispering lowly in your ear. “You’re so wet, baby…” he smirks, nibbling at your earlobe as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your depths.

Your hands move to his shoulders, gripping it tightly as your walls begin to tremble. When Hugh pushes another digit into you, your back arches and your fingernails dig into his skin. “Hugh!” You moan loudly, your head tossing back slightly against the mattress as you feel your walls begin to clench around his digits, your orgasm approaching faster than what you’re used to.

Hugh grins to himself and quickens his pace. He can feel your juices around his fingers, can hear the squelching sounds of his fingers pumping into your wet heat. After a few more pumps, Hugh presses his fingers fully into, palm firmly against your bundle of nerves.

“Come for me,” he growls into your ear.

And on command, your walls clench further around him and a loud moan escapes your lips. You roll your hips against his hand, his palm providing the right amount of friction against your clit. When you slowly come down from your high, Hugh then pulls his hand away from you. He sees your arousal coat his fingers and he grins, bringing it to his lips and sucking them off his fingers. His eyes flutter at your taste and he leans back against his knees.

“God, you taste good.” Hugh’s about to lower himself to get a taste of you directly through the source, but his eyes slightly widen when you sit up and gently push him onto his back. “Baby,” he says softly, seeing the dark gaze in your eyes. Hugh feels your hands tug down his briefs, his erected manhood now resting against his lower abdomen.

“You made me come,” you tell him, licking your lower lip. “Already,” you continue.

“Oh, you’re gonna come a few more times tonight before I’m done with you,” Hugh grins proudly.

You don’t answer. Instead, you lie on your abdomen and grasp the base of length, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around his tip. Hugh lets out a loud groan in surprise, hand coming down to tangle itself in your hair. You whimper at the taste of him, at his girth stretching your mouth. He lifts his head slightly off the bed to look down at you, groaning at the sight of you. You smile at him – fucking smile with his cock in your mouth and it makes him go wild. Hugh rests his head back against the mattress, eyes fully shut tight when he feels you lower your mouth further onto him.

Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t take and he knows that he can’t fucking come right now, knows that he doesn’t want to come in your mouth when he hasn’t even felt how you would feel wrapped around him.

“Baby, baby, fuck,” he groans, gently pulling you away from his length. Hugh looks down at himself, seeing your saliva coating half of his size and when he looks up at you, you’re fucking smiling again. He rolls you onto your back and settles himself between your legs, grasping his base and running his tip along your throbbing sex. “As much as I loved the sight of you with my cock in your mouth,” he growls, eyes staring deeply into yours. “I still need to feel you.”

Then, Hugh pushes his tip into you. He groans to himself, pushing his hips into you as he slides into your tight walls inch by inch. You’re so wet, so warm, so fucking tight. He rests his forearms at either side of your head, gently stroking your hair back and away from your face. He stares into your eyes, rolling his hips into you until he fills you to the hilt.

“You feel good, baby,” Hugh whispers, lips brushing against yours. He feels your legs wrap around his waist, whimpering quietly as your eyes flutter when he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you slowly. “It’s taking a lot of restraint in me to not just…” he slams into you roughly, causing a loud moan to leave your lips. “Fuck.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, moving your lips to his jawline and neck. “Fuck me, Hugh… I can take it. I promise.”

Like a switch turned on, Hugh pulls back and sits back on his knees. He brings your legs to drape over his strong shoulders as he slides back into you. He turns his head and kisses the inside of your calf gently, softly, as he delivers a sharp thrust into you.

Hugh’s thrusts don’t falter, his skin slaps against yours as he picks up the pace. When he leans forward, your legs still over his shoulders, you feel him slide further into your depths. He rests his hands on the mattress, using it to ground him as he feels your walls slide along his throbbing length, gripping him so tight.

You can feel the tightness begin to build, your walls beginning to clench once more as your orgasm looms closer and closer. You reach out to rest your hands on his chest, feeling like you can’t handle anymore. Your body is overly sensitive and with each drag of his hips, with each push he thrusts into you, is enough for your walls to tighten even further around his length.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. “Hugh!”

Hugh groans at the sight of you, at the feel of your walls clenching and trembling around him. He slows his thrusts for a moment, placing your legs back to your side as he stares down at you. “That’s two,” he grins proudly. Hugh pulls out completely, looking down at his length to see it slick with your arousal.

“It’s not a game,” you pant, moving to sit up with your legs still spread wide for him.

Hugh smirks, reaching down and stroking himself slowly as his eyes take in your entire frame. He’s surprised that he’s held out this long, driven by his desire to get you to come at least one more time before he does.

“Really? Because I’m kind of enjoying myself, baby.”

You narrow your eyes and then slowly roll yourself into your abdomen. You bury your face against the softness of his pillow as you bring the sheet to cover your lower half. “Good, well I’m gonna get some sleep. You can fix that little problem yourself.” You bite your lower lip, knowing that Hugh’s not going to like that. When you look over your shoulder at him, you can see his lower lip between his teeth and he tugs the sheet down and away from your body.

“Oh, we wanna be a tease, huh?” Hugh straddles your hips, caging you in as he brings his hand lightly down your ass. The sound of his palm connecting with your backside echoes throughout his room. You gasp loudly, fully surprised that you actually like it. “We like that, do we?” Hugh smirks and then spanks you once more, feeling you wiggle back into him. “Oh, baby, you’re naughty.”

Then, he slides into you fully, this new position making you feel even tighter around him. You reach back, trying to push him away – your walls so sensitive with two orgasms already. Hugh clicks his tongue and grabs your hands and places them above your head, gripping your wrists firmly. He rolls his hips into you, eyes fluttering at the feel of you around him.

“Hugh, baby, please–”

Hugh interrupts you with a harsh thrust, resting his chest firmly against your back as he whispers into your ear. “Tell me how it feels, love,” he pants, a groan leaving his lips.

“Feels good,” you whimper, pushing back against him. “You’re so–” your breath catches in your throat when he pushes all the way into you, filling you so fully and deeply. He’s crowding your space, holding your wrists down, the weight of his body weight firmly pressing against yours, and his tip kissing your most inner parts… it’s enough for you to reach yet another orgasm.

“Fuck, Hugh!”

Hugh releases your wrists to grab your hips and pull out of you abruptly. He turns you over and leans down to lap at your juices, eyes fluttering at your taste as his tongue helps you ride out your climax. Your hand immediately moves to his hair – what was once neatly done for tonight’s event now is a complete mess as you tug and pull.

Hugh brings a hand to press his thumb firmly against your clit, feeling your entire body tremble and shake against him.

“Hugh!” you moan loudly, back arching. You’re truly spent and he’s still so fucking hard for you. When he pulls away, he licks his lips and gently slaps your already-sensitive pussy, which causes a gasp to escape your lips. You’re breathing so heavily, chest raising as you stare at him with a dazed look on your face.

“Three?” He smirks.

“How are you still…” you bite your lip and see him move to lie down next to you, his hand dropping down to slowly begin to stroke himself. “Don’t you want to come?”

Hugh growls lowly, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. “I do,” he answers. “But seeing you come is just as good.”

You take a few deep breaths and then slowly move to straddle his waist. You take hold of his base, holding it firm in your hand. You keep your eyes locked on his and slowly lower yourself onto him, feeling his girth stretch you out once more. You know you won’t be able to last long, your entire body already on overdrive. When you slowly begin to lower yourself onto him, inch by inch, it surprises you at how deep he feels in this position. Your walls slide down each inch of his length and when you lower yourself completely, until you’re sitting firmly on his lap, your hands move to rest on his chest.

“So deep,” you whisper, slowly rolling your hips forward and backwards, the hair at his base providing just the right amount of friction against your clit. “Now, it’s your turn to come– Hugh!”

He delivers a sharp thrust upwards, hands moving to grip your hips tightly and his fingertips dig into your flesh. Hugh licks his lower lip, staring up at you as you try your best to hold out another orgasm just so he can come. It’s cute, very considerate, but he needs one more out of you. Hugh isn’t usually like this, but there’s something about you that brings out this feral animal in him.

One hand moves to grasp your breast, massaging and kneading it into his palm as his other keeps a tight hold on your hip. Hugh lets out a loud moan when he feels you begin to bounce along his length – all the way to his tip and back down completely. He’s close, he’s surprised he’s even held out this long with coming, but he knows he’s close and he can’t hold it anymore.

“Baby–” Hugh groans, thumb brushing against your nipple as he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist. You continue to move along his length, your own hands moving to rest on his shoulders. In the time that he’s known you, you’ve always been so determined, especially when you put your mind on something and right now is no different.

He feels you lean in to press your lips against his own. It’s a messy kiss, but fueled with so much passion, so much intensity. Hugh feels the tightness build and build in the pit of his stomach as his hands hold you firmly still, his hips stuttering upwards into you at an erratic pace.

“Oh god,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face against the side of your neck. Slowly, he feels your hips roll forwards and backwards, causing a shiver to run through his body. Hugh pulls back enough to look up at you and he sees that same fucking grin on your face. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he rolls you onto your back and slowly pulls out of you, seeing his release trickle out of you.

He’s about to say something, but you interrupt him by reaching down to scoop some of his release onto your finger and lift it to your lips. Without hesitation, you suck the remnants of his release off your fingertip and maintain eye contact.

“Minx,” he groans.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for the next few days,” you giggle. “I can’t believe you made me come three times.”

“Let’s aim for four next time,” Hugh grins.

“I don’t know if I can do four…” you laugh.

“Oh, baby, I believe in you,” he winks and moves to hover above you again. Hugh’s hand comes up to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin lightly. “But before we do that, can I take you out on a real date?”

You nod and turn your head slightly to kiss the inside of his wrist. “Yes, Hugh.”

Hugh grins and then leans down to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman request #hugh jackman requests #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #story: mystery woman #hugh jackman oneshot #hugh jackman smut

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scealaiscoite · 3 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic no. 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a scent, an item of clothing and a weather forecast (a number, letter, + creature), and write/request to your heart’s content my dears!

𓂃 ࣪˖ a smell

꒰ 1 ꒱ rich, incensed perfume

꒰ 2 ꒱ burnt coffee

꒰ 3 ꒱ resinous pine needles

꒰ 4 ꒱ steadily-baking bread

꒰ 5 ꒱ inescapably strong disinfectant

꒰ 6 ꒱ expensive, pungent red wine

꒰ 7 ꒱ cheap cologne

꒰ 8 ꒱ salty air rolling off of crashing sea waves

꒰ 9 ꒱ mouth-watering home cooking

꒰ 10 ꒱ a too-strong vanilla candle

꒰ 11 ꒱ fresh-cut, perfectly ripe stone fruits

꒰ 12 ꒱ overpowering tiger balm

꒰ 13 ꒱ smoke unfurling from a wood fire

꒰ 14 ꒱ spiced incense

꒰ 15 ꒱ all-too familiar coconut shampoo

꒰ 16 ꒱ strong herbal lavender

꒰ 17 ꒱ newly turned earth

꒰ 18 ꒱ motor oil

꒰ 19 ꒱ just-washed bedsheets

꒰ 20 ꒱ petrichor after a rainshower

𓂃 ࣪˖ a piece of clothing

꒰ A ꒱ a wrinkled black tie

꒰ B ꒱ mismatched socks

꒰ C ꒱ faded blue jeans

꒰ D ꒱ a hotel bathroom

꒰ E ꒱ a stolen hoodie

꒰ F ꒱ a crisp white button-down

꒰ G ꒱ an expensive, lush fur coat

꒰ H ꒱ a pair of beaten-up combat boots

꒰ I ꒱ plaid pajama pants

꒰ J ꒱ loose-fitting boxer shorts

꒰ K ꒱ a yellow football jersey

꒰ L ꒱ a papery hospital gown

꒰ M ꒱ a blue, lacy thong

꒰ N ꒱ a brown belt with a gold buckle

꒰ O ꒱ cheap swimming garb

꒰ P ꒱ six-inch high heels

꒰ Q ꒱ a dark-red evening gown

꒰ R ꒱ a thick knitted sweater

꒰ S ꒱ a chef’s white coat

꒰ T ꒱ a flimsily-made tourist t-shirt

𓂃 ࣪˖ a weather advisory

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ hammering, unrelenting rain

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ warm, golden sunshine

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ hair-raising rolls of thunder

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ thick, looming fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a clear, chilly evening

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ blazing heat

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ a nighttime lightning storm

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ a grey sky laden with rainclouds

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ cold, drizzly mist

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ an unexpected snowstorm

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ bone-chilling sleet

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ breathless humidity

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ blustery winds

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ rain-induced floods

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ spitting showers of hailstones

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a freezing, sudden drop in temperatures

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ a hurricane warning

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ a tropical storm

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ a warm, temperate breeze

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ road-closing landslides

#a lil more abstract than her predecessor but i hope it’ll still inspire!!! xx #prompts #build a fic prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #rp meme #dialogue prompts #otp prompts #imagine your otp #otp writing #writing games #writing ask games #ask games #drabble meme

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julietsbody · 8 months ago

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CALIGULA — luke castellan + reader : luke castellan, in all his reign, has a love for sexual pleasure, more importantly with you.

tags: mdni, inspired by ancient roman stories, luke is a pervert, dark!luke, p in v sex, jealousy, possessiveness, assistant!reader, captain!luke, luke is an awful man in this sawry

a/n: ive been binge watching the roman empire show

LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR.

41 AD.

luke castellan can’t deny how harsh of a captain he was on the princess andromeda.

he wanted to be the best captain on the sea, wanted to get his revenge on camp halfblood and the gods, wanted to live the lavish life he had always dreamed of. he thought of a life where he would drink red wine out of chalices, be fed grapes from the hands of beautiful women, or men, he wanted to be treated like a god— because in his mind, he would be the best god to ever exist.

you started out as his assistant, writing papers for him on a simple typewriter that he gave to you, a fucking typewriter. you tried to remind him it was no longer the 1950s, he scoffed like you were stupid. “you know people used them in the 1800s, right?”

your lips press together, looking at him, then the typewriter, then back to him. you offer a small smile, and he doesn’t return it, he never does, and he never will. luke took things very seriously, maybe too seriously, so he never let himself smile, let alone laugh, a bitter scoff was all you’d get from him at most.

you were pliant, luke noticed, and he liked that. you did everything he asked, every time he asked. he’d call your name, and hear your heels clicking against the wooden floorboards no less than a second later. speaking of heels, luke was strict about dress codes, too.

to call him a pervert.. well, you wouldn’t be far off.

he wanted you to wear things like tight pencil skirts, short or long, thin tights, maybe even solely stockings, stiletto heels that he’d purchased for you the second he saw you show up in mary janes, and a simple shirt or blouse. he liked glasses, too, thin, square framed ones, like bayonetta’s.

you had to wear dark red lipstick, regardless.

you hated your boss, more than anything, the way he’d walk into a room and easily command it, the way his body language reeked of cockiness, the way that despite all evilness, he still thought he was doing something for the greater good.

what you hated the most, is how much you fantasized about him.

that’s why you always ran to him so quick when he called out for you, why you endured the loud clacking of the typewriter keys even when you had to do a paper at night and he opened your door to yell at you to ‘shut the fuck up or get thrown off the damn boat.’

he was never a good man, nor a good boss, but he looked good.

you liked when he was angry, when he yelled at you, when he held your jaw so tight you were sure he’d shatter it and spit degrading words at you like you were vile. it should be such a shame that you enjoy it, but you don’t pity yourself one bit. he was meaner with you, he always cracked awful jokes with the rest of the crew, drank beers with them, lit their cigarettes, but you, you were the person he took all his anger out on.

well, at first it was anger.

then he began to ever so slowly show his desires for sexual connections. he was able to hold it in at first, act like he wasn’t missing having sex, like he wasn’t missing the simple touch of a woman or man. masturbating wasn’t keeping him sane for long, not when he didn’t have anything to masturbate to. then he began to focus his attention onto you.

you were attractive, and luke couldn’t hold back how his short glances turned to stares. his jaw ticks, lips parting, “i want you to wear shorter skirts.”

“mini skirts?” you blink at him, he had called you to his office, and his eyes were traveling over your body every second he got.

“yeah,” he pauses, “and lower cut shirts.”

before your lips can even part, he dismisses you, and bluntly stares at your ass when you walk away. it was so ironic, luke used to be such a virgin, a complete loser, but now he was nothing short of the opposite. he was cocky, he knew he was handsome, he knew people were attracted to him easily, mostly sexually.

if luke was lucky, at some stops, he might be able to bring back a few women or men home with him, they always gawked at the ship, told him how cool it is that he has a boat, that he’s a captain, and has a crew, that everyone does everything for him.

they thought it was hot, so they wanted to do things for him to, he’d take them to his quarters, and provide them with red wine before moaning could be heard all throughout the ship.

but his boat was in the middle of the sea, and has been for a month or so now, and he felt like he was going insane.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

luke was struggling to sleep, insomnia was getting the best of him, he thought that if he drank more and more wine, he would eventually wind down. he never did. he only got slopper, and aroused. the worst mix on nights like these was the bubbling frustration that he didn’t have anything to fuck, and the fact that he wanted to fuck something so bad.

his dick strains in his boxers, and his teeth grit together, mentally cursing himself for continuously offering himself one more drink, after the third glass, knowing he’d have a fourth, and a fifth. he’d drank the whole bottle, and he wasn’t even close to tired.

his body feels warm, so warm. you come to his mind almost immediately, making his his hands draw closer to the hem of his boxers. the way your ass looks in those skirts, the stockings that meet at the middle of your thigh, the sheer shirts that barely showed the color of your bra, the slight cleavage you show when leaning over to place paperwork on his desk.

he recalls the one time he had came into your room in the dead of night in search of a document, but he was immediately met with the floral of your perfume, and the way your blanket barely covered your naked form. he shouldn’t look, really, he should shy away and close the door, but he swallows thick seeing your breast, the slight parting of your legs, the way your cunt barely peeks out the messily moved blanket.

he wouldn’t have actually done it, of course, because he’s a respectable man who puts consent above all else— but he wonders what it would look like if he pushed your legs apart, moved the blanket, and spread your pussy open for him. to be sleeping naked, how scandalous. he’d never know that you purposefully put the document in your room when you knew you wanted it, you purposefully slept naked, you purposefully moved the blanket in those ‘messy’ ways.

he inhales sharply, fingers moving underneath the fabric of his boxers to graze over his cock. it’s so perverted, to think of you like this, to imagine pulling you onto his lap the next time you come into his office, fingers gripping your skin the same way they grip his cock now. you’d probably melt into his touch, so innocent, so pliant, your doe eyes staring at him like he’s the only man who had ever existed, like he’s a god. and that’s what he is, a captain, an emperor, a god.

he thinks of himself, and is immediately reminded of caligula.

the roman emperor in 31 AD, he was described by some as a tyrant, but in the beginning, he was one of the best leaders in ancient rome. he was just like luke, addicted to sexual acts, wanting all the finest things in life, and the worst part— luke was just as paranoid as him.

but that was of no worry now, he was too focused on the pleasure that coursed underneath his flesh, or the simple thought of pushing his dick into your cunt, making your eyes roll back with pleasure you’d only ever dreamed of. luke knew he could make you feel good, and eventually he would. he imagined all the positions he would push you into, on your back, on your stomach with your ass up, having you ride him— gods.

he wondered if whenever you tried to make excuses for being far too late at typing up a paper in time, he could just simply have you on your knees for him, fucking your mouth so you’d shut up. bruising your lips, ruining your lipstick, making you cry, all of those thoughts sends luke over the edge in no less than a minute or two.

his skin is sticky with sweat, fingers coated in his own cum, but all he wants is more.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

like mentioned before, luke had a madness problem.

ever since he had been cast out, he had this odd paranoia problem, he thought the gods would strike him down at any second, that they were watching his every move, or that percy jackson would find his way to his ship and kill him himself for all the damage he’s caused.

the lack of sex wasn’t the only thing driving luke mad, it was the cage of his own mind. the fact that he’s surrounded by the very thing that the man who’s responsible for percy’s existence owns, the sea. it all makes him sick, often times there will be crashing from his quarters in the late of night, but it always stopped as soon as it started.

this night was different, it just kept going. first something being pushed over, then the breaking of glass, more crashing, more shatters, yelling, some screaming— it was a nightmare. some of the crew woke up, but you were the only one who dared to take a step out onto the deck that night, let alone approach his quarters.

knock. knock. knock.

no response, a deafening silence underneath the crashing waves and the crackling of the candle in your hand.

knock. knock.

the lack of response is worrying. he almost always responds, either it’s to tell you to fuck off, or to come in. but now, nothing. he couldn’t have hurt himself, could he? you test the waters, fingers curling around the doorknob and turning it with the expectation for it to be locked as it always is.

it was unlocked. you push the door open, glancing in to see the mess that he had made of his own room, and him just simply sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. “luke?”

“captain,” he immediately mumbles out, a correction.

“captain,” you repeat, taking a step further inside, he has offered nothing against you being inside of his quarters. you are typically never allowed in here. you move to close the door behind you, placing the candle into the nearest holder that wasn’t completely destroyed.

you turn back to him, his head was raised to look at you, arms now lazily splayed onto his spread legs in his sitting position. he was a chronic manspreader, something you noticed, but seeing him faintly hunched over pathetically like this, tired eyes staring at you, sweat beading at his temple— he was so hot.

“are you okay?” you offer, voice as sweet as ever.

“am i okay?” he scoffs, a chuckle following after, he’s never chuckled in front of you before, “am i okay, am i okay—“ he hums, “what do you think, hm? you think i’m okay?”

his voice is confronting and harsh, like he wants to see you cower down, like he wants to break you like all the other things in his room. your brows furrow together for a second, “no..?”

“no, no, atta girl— you’re catchin’ on,” he smiles at you for the first time, “why don’t you help me feel better, yeah?”

you stare at him for a second, wondering if he meant what you thought he meant, “yeah.”

“yeah.” his voice is hushed, almost mocking, “c’mere.”

you immediately walk over to him in the ambient lighting, marking out your silhouette, stepping over all the things he’s knocked over. a grin tugs at his lips, cruel and cocky, he loves how easy you do anything he asks. his hand is gentle on your waist, pulling you closer, “so good for me.”

you nod at him, letting his hand guide you down to your knees, pupils dilated up at him so perfectly. his tongue swipes along the backside of his teeth, moving his hand to hold your jaw, tilting your head to properly look up at him. maybe it was wrong to fuck his assistant, someone working for him, but it just felt so right, all of this felt like it was in the prophecy.

his thumb swipes along your bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick there, of course you put that on before coming to his room. “so pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, dipping his finger between your lips and into your mouth. your lips curve up ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, lips closing around his flesh.

he takes it away from your mouth just as quick as it was slotted between your lips, moving to undo his belt, the veins in his hands shifted with each movement of his hands, first it was his belt, then his pants, then his boxers.

you always thought luke would have a big dick, he just has that certain cockiness that makes you think he couldn’t have a small dick and be acting the way he is, but this felt like it would hardly fit in your mouth.

you glance up at him, his amused stare which immediately turns to faux concern when you say, “i don’t think it’ll fit—“

“it will,” he immediately cuts in, prying your mouth open with his thumb whilst his free hand eases your head closer, “i’ll make it fit.”

your tongue runs along the vein at the bottom of his dick, already feeling the heaviness of it against the muscle in your mouth. you had sucked a few dicks before, sure, but this one was the biggest, and the cleanest. his hand holds your jaw when you start taking him into your mouth properly, tongue flat against the bottom of his cock, eyes peering up at him through heavy lids.

his lashes flutter pathetically, mouth falling open with your every movement, the way the saliva from your mouth coats him perfectly— he needed this. it felt like a dream coming right after a nightmare, he was exhausted, sweating from his breakdown, and you were sent to him right when he needed it, an angel on his shoulder.

but you’re going too slow, and luke’s growing restless from sitting so still. he can feel the ache of your jaw, but he wishes to make it worse somehow, as cruel as it sounds. his hand moves to the back of your head, hips ever so slowly bucking into your mouth, it was barely noticeable at first, until the sound of you sputtering and gagging around him fueled him more.

his thrusts quickly turned harsh, bruising, merciless.

he only paused when you slapped at his thigh pathetically, moving off to pant heavily, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you looked so messy, so pathetic, lipstick smeared, eyes puffy from falling tears. “always wanted this, huh? i notice how you look at me, always running to my office any chance you get, such a slut.”

you nod at him, and that only makes him want to say more, “do you believe in god?”

“yes, yes,” the response is immediate.

“am i your god?”

you pause at him, processing, what would the best answer be?

yes, of course, that would be the best answer. in luke’s own mind, all this misery, all this destruction, all this betrayal, it was only the start of his story to reach the top. when caligula was next in line for the throne and his father was on his deathbed, he killed his own father with hardly any hesitation, then became one of the most memorable roman emperors alongside julius caesar.

luke had been planning the murder of hermes for a long, long time, ever since the first book about caligula he read. killing percy jackson was a failure, all several times, so he had no other choice than to just shoot for the stars.

luke’s eyes refocus onto the situation at hand rather than being stuck in his own mind, he had you pushed on your stomach with your ass up, the position he always wished to put you in, the position he’s put multiple other women and men in.

his hands smooth over your ass, memorizing the canvas that he wants to splatter paint over. there’s something so intimate about this whole ordeal, the dim lighting of sole candles in all the destruction around his room, the crashing of waves on the sides of the boat as it moves through the sea, the red wine that luke drinks from the bottle he had just picked up.

he hums at the taste, rich, perfect. “want some?”

you shake your head, and he tuts in faux disappointment, “no fun, aren’t you? just want me to fuck you? needy, needy.”

albeit his degrations, his tip presses to your entrance, lips pressing together when he pushes in— holy fuck, you were tight. luke’s breathing is ragged, he feels as though your pussy is desperately trying to squeeze an orgasm out of him in seconds. it only worsens when you accidentally glench, making his teeth grit together, he coughs out a bitter chuckle, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“no, nono—“ it was too late for the begging for forgiveness, his thrusts were already brutal, slamming into you without a single regard for how much pain it would leave you in, in the morning. caligula was a possessive lover, a harsh fucker, a man ruled by jealousy and madness— luke castellan was born from the same map of caligula.

his hands grip your hips harshly, punching out sweet moans from your bitten lips with every thrust, “fuck, fuck! luke!”

luke’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek for a mere second before his hand suddenly moves to the back of your head, harshly tugging your hair back, “captain.”

another correction.

as soon as your back hits his chest, his hand moves from your hair to your neck, gripping the delicate skin there tight. he ignores your attempts to get his attention by placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his jaw, leaving his skin stained with your lipstick. his eyes were too focused on the mirror placed in front of him, of course he had one there, it was cracked, but he was still able to make out the way your skin trembled underneath him, the way his thrusts sent shivers up your spine, the way he easily made you cock drunk.

it didn’t take long for him to have you cumming on him as well, in which he followed soon after with a gritted out fuck.

luke’s eyes may be glazed over when he looks back in the mirror, but he doesn’t see himself in his position, he sees caligula.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #pjo luke #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut

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stargirlrchive · 9 months ago

Text

INVISIBLE STRING — CASSIAN!

pairing: cassian x morrigan (half) sister reader

notes: :3 hi hi this is so scary. i haven’t posted a full thought out fic in probably a year (crazy) and i would like to say i have not finished the series so if timeline is inaccurate and just plots don’t make sense w canon it’s bc im still on acowar :p but cassian has taken over my brain and i can’t get him out of it !!!! c: part two is already being worked on bc im so proud of her. i hope u all enjoy it <3 ++ i know mor is described as being blonde and fairly pale in complexion which is why i made reader her half sibling, and there are no descriptions of reader’s physical attributes bc i wanted to kept it as neutral as possible :3

cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet?), azriel’s shadows being the biggest cassreader shippers ever, unrequited love but really it’s just idiots in love. also mentions (brief) of abuse from keir (gross!)

Your fingers nervously fumbled with the straps of your leathers. Heart pounding in your ears as you forced yourself to drop the nervous jitters, fingers balling into tight fist to stop their trembling.

It had been a long time since you had last seen your family. A long time since your gaze met violet eyes, or your nose scented cedar wood and night chilled mist. The lingering scent of sea salted water and citrus, and fresh paint and vanilla, and sweet wine and roses had nearly erased from your memory. But what you missed the most was the red gleam of siphons that glowed ruby red under certain light.

Truly, in an immortals life time half a decade was just a blip in time, minuscule, but you had never been gone this long from them. Especially not from Rhys, Az, Mor, and Cassian, with the exception of Rhysand’s imprisonment under the mountain.

You blinked away the burning in your eyes as you pushed open the doors of the town house. Soft chatter growing cold at the unexpected intrusion. You had barely enough time to register everyone seated at the table when shadows were zooming past their master to greet you excitedly.

Nuzzling into your hair and neck and arms. Azriel’s shadows had always been so fond of you. Whispering and singing in your ear in a language you could not understand.

They tugged you forward, until you were stumbling clumsily as they dragged you towards Cassian. An ache settled deep in your chest as you fought against them gently, moving between Azriel and Rhys. You missed the flash of hurt in hazel eyes as you avoided him.

Five years later and he still didn’t know the truth of your departure. Before your thoughts could send you spiraling, Rhys’ voice called your name. An undeniable smile in his voice before his arms were enveloping you, “Cousin, you’re back.”

“I am.” Your throat felt thick, tongue heavy as you fought back tears. His scent had always comforted you, Rhys had given you and Mor a chance. A lifeline in the sea that you were drowning in, in Hewn City.

Two sisters, both forced into a world that was cruel and unkind. Morrigan as rightful Heir of Keir had experienced the brunt of it all. From being stuffed into tight dress, to being pranced around in front of grimy men, and nearly forced into a life with a male whose family’s cruelty knew no bounds.

Your torment had been in forms of neglect and isolation. Your father had never much cared for you, being a product of affairs, his bastard, he left you alone. Barely acknowledged your presence when at the mere age of nine you were thrown into his arms from your mother’s father, stating you were no longer his responsibility since your mother’s death. Your father’s neglect, you now realized, had been a blessing.

You were Mor’s shadow. Clinging to her as any younger sister would. Always causing trouble until you learned to obey. Mor never let you experience the abuse from your father fully. Always taking the blame, always hiding you. You owed her and Rhys, your family, everything.

There was a soft clearing of a throat that pulled you and your High Lord apart. Shadows greedily pulling you to face everyone else. Azriel’s hazel eyes assessing you, looking for any injuries before his fingers were squeezing your elbow gently. A soft hello.

Your eyes flickered around the room, and you realized just how much had changed. Your High Lady, and dear friend seated at the head of the table, Rhys by her side. Besides him sat Azriel and then Elain.

Your throat tightened as you allowed your eyes to flicker to the other side, Nesta beside Feyre, and Cassian beside her. Amren had most likely skipped out dinner to enjoy the privacy of her apartment, and Mor was no longer around. Preferring to spend her time on the continent.

The golden thread that tied you to the Lord of Bloodshed sung loudly and happily in your chest. Five years since you had last laid eyes on him and the feeling alone nearly brought you to your knees.

Your eyes flickered away from Cassian, ignoring the way your heart and soul begged you not to. “Is my room still available?”

Feyre sent you a soft smile, sad really, as she realized how desperately you wished to find some peace and quiet. She knew of your affections for the General, and how you had never told him only to watch him fall in love with her sister.

“Of course it is, but you should join us.”

You swallowed roughly at Rhys’ words, unable to stop the gnawing pain in your heart and the cruel words circling in your mind. Cassian was not yours, he had never been and it was unfair of you to expect him to love you the way you had always yearned for him too. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it always fucking hurt.

“I’m quite tired, maybe tomorrow.” Rhys didn’t push, just affectionately tucked your hair behind your pointed ear and let you go.

Your steps were quick, hurried and Cassian’s voice sounded like smooth velvet as he called your name. You didn’t stop, your knees nearly buckling under your weight as you forced yourself to keep walking.

Mumbling a quiet, “Goodnight,” before disappearing into the hallways in search of your bedroom.

During your five years away at Day the turmoil in your heart had eased, if only slightly. Cassian would unintentionally send his emotions down the bond, and it seemed it always happened when your heart had finally let you rest.

When you finally saw light at the end of a never ending tunnel of despair, the mating bond would reel you in, viciously and unforgiving. You were sure you were being punished.

How dare you ever try to question what the Mother wanted for you?

Being back in Velaris, being back home, felt so much worse. With the distance, even when his emotions poured into your very bones, it felt weakened. Less tethered to you.

But now? Now you felt his sorrow so deeply tears fell freely down your cheeks.

You had only been trying to sleep for a few hours, your rest had been fitful at best, anxiety prickling at your fingertips as you threw the warm blanket off of you. You needed air. You needed clarity.

Your feet moved on their own. From what you last knew there were no longer many residents here. You were careless in thinking so as your feet moved hurriedly through the house and out into the garden.

Filling your lungs with air as tears prickled at your eyes, the cold nipping at your skin as you sunk into one of the benches placed around the area.

You had only been in his presence for a mere five minutes and your heart was already waging a war against you.

Maybe you could convince Rhys to send you off once again. Your years away at Day had been filled with research and insight, maybe you could do the same at Dawn. Or any other Court that wasn’t here. Gods, you’d even take the forsaken libraries in the Hewn City if it meant not being here. You’d beg if you had too because this, this was too much.

You let out a shaky breath as your mind ruthfully plagued you with memories of the past. Of your utter devastation of hearing that Mor had slept with Cassian.

Of the guilt you felt after, when you avoided her in anger and utter jealousy and then told of the way she was savagely left to die.

You would never forgive yourself.

Remembering when you realized you were utterly and hopelessly devoted to your life long friend, and learning to live with just having a small part of him for you.

Hoping and praying to the Mother that he’d love you back. Hoping to see a spark of honeyed warmth, or a lick of jealousy when you found solace in the warmth of another. Anything, you prayed and prayed, but she never answered.

Not until you had pinned him down on the training matt, wings sprawled out beneath him as you stared at him smugly. A soft, primal, smirk on his face as he gripped your thighs. “You’re getting better.”

Your laughter filtered through the open area, “Only ‘better’? I just kicked your ass.”

He grunted, tugging you gently and in a quick succession of movements had flipped you over, pinning you to the ground. His thighs caged over yours, pinning your hands above your head as he sent you a toothy smile.

The wind that had been knocked out of you was not due to the fact your back had hit against the matt, but because something snapped inside of you. An invisible golden thread, darting from your chest to his, so visceral you could almost taste it, singing happily at finally being acknowledged.

But he gave no indication that he had felt the mating bond snap into place, “Yes, ‘better’. Because you should know not to let your guard down.”

Your speechlessness could’ve been a product of being bested in sparring, your mind racing with things to say but nothing came out.

The fog that had formed in your brain cleared at the bark of laughter that left Azriel, “If you two are done flirting, get back to sparring or leave the ring.”

You don’t remember what excuse you used to suddenly needing to leave but you did. Hope sparkling in your chest at what you thought was an answered prayer by the Mother. He was yours, just as much as you were his.

Only for the ember to burn to ash quickly, as two nights after Cassian had come to you looking for guidance on how to court Nesta.

You tried so hard, pushing down the mating bond that roared and screamed in utter agony as he spilled to you his affections for the eldest Archeron.

Your heart stuttering and begging for release of this pain as your mind caught up to you. He’d never see you. He hadn’t before, so what would be so different now? What would suddenly make you worthy in his eyes? The mating bond?

You realized quickly that you didn’t want that. Didn’t want him to love you just because fate decided to pair you together. You wanted him to love you, to yearn for you the way you had for him without something telling him to.

So with a forced smile you consoled him. Running your fingers through his hair and giving him advice on how to win her heart.

Some days you cursed yourself for that night. You wished you had been selfish and told him he was yours. But then the guilt would settle and you knew you’d never have the heart to force that onto your dearest friend.

In the end all you wanted was his happiness, if that was with someone else then you’d have to learn to live with it.

It had all led up to the night where you accidentally walked in on Nesta and Cassian in the kitchen at the House of Wind, lips and tongues tangled.

The mating bond felt like it was burning you alive from the inside out, angry and volatile as it blamed you for pushing him into her arms.

You’re not sure how you ended up in Rhys office, your face pressed into him as your fingers tried to claw at the hurt in your chest, “Make it stop, Rhys. Gods please, just make it stop.”

He had never seen you like this, never seen you in such despair as he tried to calm you down. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help you.

Only held you in his arms and sang a lullaby his mother had always sang to the three of you as children. Your desperation and pain eased and numbness eventually coated your insides.

“Send me away.”

He hesitated, wiping your tears as Feyre’s soothing touch caressed your back. His violet eyes shining with hurt and concern for you, “What are you running from?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep timber of a voice you were so familiar with,“Is it just me, or are you avoiding me?”

Heat quickly ran from your skull down to your spine at the velvety voice that belonged to Cassian. Your back tensing uncomfortably as you turned to look at him.

You refrained from letting your eyes glaze down his form. Bare chested and wings lazily held up as his brows furrowed when he took you in.

“Cassian-what are you doing here?”

You stood up from your seated position as he moved closer. His eyes never leaving yours, “Here as in the gardens or here as in my home?”

Your brows furrowed, were he and Nesta now permanently in the town house? It would’ve made sense, seeing as they were all here, having dinner earlier.

“In-in the gardens.”

His lips twisted up into a small quirk of a smile, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to reacquaint himself with your features.

Your heart lurched to your throat as his gaze lingered on your lips before he looked back into your eyes. “I heard you walking around. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you know it was me?”

His lips tugged into a proper smile this time, “Who else could it be?”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell you that he’d long ago familiarized himself with the sound of your steps.

Your brows pinched together, full lips tugging into a small frown, “Where is everyone else?”

“Elain is most likely off in Lucien’s apartment, Azriel is at the House of Wind.”

And despite yourself, you asked, “And Nesta?”

Your throat bobbed softly, heart already preparing itself to hear that she was tangled in his sheets in his room. A soft shrug came from him, muscles flexing deliciously at the movement, “Probably with her mate.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his words. Her mate? You were sure the confusion was evident on your face as Cassian laughed. “It’s a bit unfair isn’t it? She was made a measly six years ago, and she’s found who her soul is tethered to, while we’ve been around for centuries and have no luck.”

“Lucky her.”

He hummed, eyes glazing over your face and the look in his eyes was unrecognizable. Warm and honeyed. It made your stomach twist and turn into uncomfortable knots.

“I should go to bed, Cassian. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You made to walk away from him, but his rough fingers wrapped around your forearm in a touch that could only be described as gentle. When you finally looked up at him his brows were pinched together in confusion, and hurt.

“What’s with the full name?”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly at your words, “You’ve used it on me twice in the span of a few minutes. I’m never ‘Cassian’ to you.”

A stretch of silence passed between the two of you, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Gods, you had come around to the idea of seeing him tangled with Nesta. But you were back and he was single. Or at least not with her and you don’t know what you feared most.

That your heart would take this as hope and yearn for him, and watch him fall for another, or to finally tell him how you felt. If it would even mean anything to him, if he’d even want you.

You couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. You refused to let hope spark in your heart when he had already tangled himself into your very being like overgrown ivy. You don’t know if you’d survive any more rejection.

His voice was softer this time, thick fingers cupping your cheeks and jaw, forcing you to look at him, “You were gone five years and I can barely get five sentences out of you before you’re running away from me.”

Tears stung behind your eyes as your throat tightened at the hurt twinging his voice. It took everything in you to not soothe the crease between his brows, your body tensing softly as his thumb caressed your bottom lip gently, “If I have offended you, or hurt you some how tell me how to fix it. I have been waiting for five years for your return and I cannot stand to think that this whole time you were away you were angry with me.”

You wished you could speak, but your tongue felt heavy. The hurt in his eyes turned to something akin to despair at your silence, his hands dropped from caressing your face to hang loosely by his side, his wings slumped against the floor.

You let out a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to look away from him, “I should go to bed.”

And this time he didn’t stop you.

Weeks had trickled by so slowly since your return to Velaris as you tried to find your place back in your home court.

You had never been particularly good at fighting, your strength came from your knowledge. Books and literature had been something you had clung to as a child and it never left you.

You digested text in a way the inner circle did not, memorized details and names and faces others struggled with. But that did not mean Azriel was any easier on you when it came to training.

The muscles in your abdomen ached painfully, your arms felt heavy and filled with sand as he squared up once more. “I need a break.”

“You need to focus.”

A whine ripped from your throat in protest, Az’s shadows peppering cooling kisses and caresses on your skin to try and comfort you. “Just a few minutes. Please?”

“You think if someone were to try and attack you, they’d spare you if you whined like a petulant child?”

At your silence and glare he continued, “Didn’t think so.”

Your fingers balled into fist as you readied yourself, your muscles heavy with exhaustion as you threw punch after punch his way. “Remain focused, let yourself do what feels instinctual.”

You were sure you would’ve passed whatever Azriel’s standards were had his shadows not wrapped around your legs. Tugging insistently and trying to drag you away.

You heard Azriel’s noise of protest as he tried to rein his shadows back but they refused. Your head turned towards the direction in which they were tugging you in only to be met with Cassian’s warm hazel eyes already on you.

With an accidental misstep you were tumbling forward, falling far too quickly to catch yourself. Your head ringing harshly as the side of your face smacked against the mat.

Someone called out your name in a panic, and you missed the way Cassian had roughly pushed Azriel away from you as he turned you around.

His eyes frayed with worry as your eyes remained unfocused, “Can you look at me, dove?”

You blinked a few times before a groan of discomfort left your mouth, “What the fuck happened?”

Azriel’s shadows sheepishly began to caress your skull, pressing kisses of apologies on your skin. You didn’t hear anything besides tiny wisps of whispers coming from them but you’re were sure they hissed at Cassian as he shooed them away.

It took you a few minutes but you were eventually able to sit. Your ears ringing and still a little dizzy but you were feeling better despite the throb on your temple.

Azriel’s shadows peered at you from behind him sheepishly, and it was only when you extended your hand to them that they swarmed you in a flurry. Rubbing against your neck and hair affectionately, being careful with the side of your face but caressing you softly.

“They say they’re sorry.”

Your lips quirked up at Azriel’s words, “They’re forgiven.”

They buzzed in excitement, before stilling softly as Cassian extended a hand out for the shadows. They treaded carefully, lightly caressing his arm as in apology as if they had also offended him.

A few swirled around your hand and fingers, tugging it much more gently into Cassian’s extended hand. Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment but before you could pull away, he tangled his fingers with yours.

The shadows swirled around your intertwined hands as if proud of themselves before finally returning to their master. Azriel sent you a soft smirk, and with a shake of his head diseapeared into a mass of dark misty shadows.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded slowly, retorting in exasperation, “Just feels like I hit my head.”

Cassian’s lips tugged into a soft smile, helping you up and not dropping your tangled fingers, “Let’s get you to Madja.”

He pulled you along closely, walking you both towards the edge of the training area. Before you could overthink about being so tangled in his arms he wrapped himself around you. One hand cradling the back of your head to his chest, while the other gripped the back of your thighs.

Your heart pummeled to your stomach as he took off flying, it had been so long since you felt the breeze against your face like this. Your legs wrapping around him as a startled laugh left your mouth.

You felt his laugh more than you heard it, his chest rumbling against yours and for the first time in years, your heart felt at ease around Cassian.

No turmoil or anguish, just overflowing affection and happiness as he flew you carefully around Velaris. Your face tucked away from being so pressed to his chest to look up at him and your breath hitched.

He was truly so beautiful, rough and sharp features that looked like he was made out of stone carving. His lips the perfect shade of dusty rose and plump, his nose fit him beautifully too, slightly crooked at the slope from being broken over the years. White-raised scars on his beautiful tan skin. You were so close you could see the faintest of freckles that doted his skin.

“You didn’t pass out on me, did you?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks at getting so lost admiring him before you tucked your face back into his chest, “No, I’m fine.”

His fingers squeezed around your thighs as he pulled you closer before he descended down to the Town House.

You were grateful for the hand he kept placed on your back as he walked you into the house. Your dizziness hitting you once again as you landed on solid ground. The warmth running down your spine at his heated touch had you suppressing a shiver.

Your bones ached in protest when he pulled away and sat you down in front of an amused Rhys and exasperated Madja. The elder lady frowning at the bruise on your temple.

“Cassian, I’ve told you not to be so rough when training,” Madja’s soothing voice chastised the General. Your lips tugging into an amused smiled at the noise of protest that left his mouth.

“It was Azriel’s shadows that caused this.”

Madja’s eyes narrowed softly at his words but said nothing more. A hiss leaving your lips as she pushed against the bump forming near your eye.

Cassian’s fingers twitched nervously at the sound of your discomfort. His eyes glued to you as you were looked over by the healer.

Something warm and comfortable hummed in his chest seeing you. The weeks you had been back were nothing short of torture for him.

In the five years you had been gone Cassian came to the devastating realization that he was utterly and unabashedly enamored with you. Cursing himself for the time wasted on pointless lovers, on Nesta, when you had been by his side for the better half of four centuries.

His heart cracking open and knocking him over one restless night as his mind tormented him with everything he had been lacking since you had departed to Day.

He figured that he had always loved you, had always cared for you. But the twisting of his gut in your absences alerted him that it was in a way that was different from Mor and Amren, and then Feyre. His obsession with needing you near, needing you safe stemmed from some thing else entirely.

It took four months of being away from you to realize that. Cursing himself at all the time wasted.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to get ahold of you while you were studying and researching to your hearts content at Day. He had sent letter after letter, received few responses but he had figured you were busy.

His skin had only started to crawl with dread and anxiety when there had been reasons for the Inner Circle to attend a meeting, or some grand ball thrown by Helion, and you were never there.

Either whisked away to some other Court for extended research or taking time away to visit your sister.

The very last time he had stepped foot in Day while you had been there was about three months before your return. Rhys had granted him permission to seek you out.

And when he stepped foot into Day Court’s palace in search of you his hope dwindled as Helion informed him that you had just left a few days prior for a fourteen day tour at Autumn Court. But he swore he scented the soft jasmine and lavender cream that he recognized as your scent roaming the halls.

Resigned, he returned home.

Then you returned, so careful and tense in his presence he wished to turn back back to when things were easier between the two of you. When his face would nuzzle into your soft belly as you ran your fingers through his hair and consoled him after a nightmare.

Or how he’d find his favorite pastries wrapped up on the counter that he knew you’d gone out of your way to get him.

He missed when his feelings hadn’t tangled themselves so deeply into you and he could just be. Gods, did he miss you. He yearned and ached and burned for you while you seemed content at keeping him an arms length away.

The mother could be so cruel.

He barely registered Rhys pressing an affectionate kiss to your bruised temple and mumbling that he was taking Madja back before something so earth shattering was unraveling in his chest.

His eyes wide and chest heaving the second the two of you were alone and your eyes met. A deeply rich golden invisible thread darting from his chest to yours.

He had unconsciously poured all his emotions of recognizing the bond down your connection. A primal need to be closer to you bursting from his chest as he tugged on the bond.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t seem surprised he noted. Your side of the bond closed off tightly he could feel nothing from your end. He hated that.

Your eyes were wide in apprehension as you stared at him, tears lining your eyes as his emotions of love and devotion were so strong they brought him to his knees before you. Pleading and desperate as he called out your name.

“Don’t do this, Cassian.”

His brows pinched together as he reached for you, the bond screaming in agony as you avoided his touch and stood up to create some space between the two of you.

“Dove, listen to me. Please.” He was not above begging, still kneeled in the center of the room as his wings slumped to the ground. His eyes following your every move as you nervously ran your fingers through your hair.

“I feel it, I feel you.” His fingers and hands were steady as he pointed to his chest despite the feeling of anxiety creeping into him.

“You’re mine, my mate, dove.”

There was a beat of silence, Cassian staring at you as if you had delicately placed every beautiful star in the sky. But you had never seen him look at you like that before.

Never had he inclined he wanted you besides the bond. Gods, did it hurt. Your stomach churned sadly as your fingers balled into fist as you shook your head in denial.

“No. No, you don’t get to just suddenly want me because of the bond. I don’t want it this way.”

His frown deepened at your words, your emotions so heavily felt they started to crack the walls you kept up and pouring into the bond.

You had known for years. Five years, you had known and said nothing. “Gods, Cassian! I have loved you for so long. Prayed and begged to the Mother, to the Cauldron, to the Moon and Stars to have you return my affection and you didn’t.”

Cassian wanted to speak, to protest your words but the frustrated tears pouring down your beautiful face and the agony building in his chest, that was no longer just his, kept him quiet. “I’ve watched you pine and love others, and you have never looked at me that way. You had never thought me worthy of you in that way, and now that you know. It shouldn’t change a thing.”

“But it does,” His fingers itched to devote themselves to you. To memorize every curve and dip on your body. “It changes everything-”

You cut him off before he could continue, before he could tell you that he now felt worthy of loving you. That he now knew he could love you in a way you deserved if the Mother had blessed him with you as his wonderful mate. “Well it shouldn’t.”

You sniffled softly as you stared at him directly in his eyes, “I don’t want it to.”

#cassian #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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joelalorian · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

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

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

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

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #the last of us #fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #smut #fluff

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farfromstrange · 10 months ago

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Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness.

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally.

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by.

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth.

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you.

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave.

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you.

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again.

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive.

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to.

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure.

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you.

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you.

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands.

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts.

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you.

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you.

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop.

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper.

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you.

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart.

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again.

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all.

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start?

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say.

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him.

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.”

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same.

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back.

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x you #daredevil #charlie cox #from the vault #bonus fic #inspired by: now that we don't talk

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somanyratsinthewalls · 8 months ago

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Kinktober Special Part 8

Mo’s Kinktober Special

The Crew’s Whore (Part 8) (+18)

!!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your powerful fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

WC: 2600 lol

TWs: IT’S FOOT TIME! FOOT FETISH WARNING! Man I am not even into feet but this kinda did it for me. In my brain Law is canonically into feet in a weird way. Unprotected sex, p in v sex, table sex, alcohol consuption, toe sucking lmao, just fetish shit yeah.

——

The trip to the next island was turning out to be longer than anticipated due to poor weather. The Straw Hat pirates had allied themselves with now-warlord-of-the-sea Captain Trafalgar Law and were harboring him on their ship as they sailed towards the next part of their plan as an alliance. The weather had finally turned pleasant so of course Luffy ordered Sanji to prepare a huge feast, complete with piles of steaming food and barrels of cold booze.

Eating and drinking were two of you favorite activities, second and third only to fucking, so you were thrilled at the prospect of a little party. No one had approached you yet and asked you for your time tonight, everyone being so busy setting up for the party and all… but you expected that to change as the night went on. Because you anticipated being taken for your services tonight, you took the time to bathe and clean yourself up a little extra nice.

You curled your hair into soft waves and spent half an hour caking your face and painting your lips a glossy sheer crimson before heading to your closet and picked out an outfit. You settled on a flouncy little baby pink dress, the layered fabric sheer and light. The soft pink hem swished high up on your thighs, leaving very little of your legs to the imagination. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you decide to play it up even further and crouched down to grab a pair of red high heels from under your bed. You slipped on the pumps and with a final twirl in the mirror headed out to the party.

The deck of the ship was buzzing with the sounds of your crew mates enjoying themselves. Brook was serenading the party with a jaunty tune to which Chopper and Nami were dancing, Luffy was busying himself with the sumptuous spread Sanji prepared, all while Zoro was ahead of the game and drinking himself into oblivion. Law was seated at the same table as Zoro, seemingly having much less of a nice time. The mysterious doctor was hunched over and stared emotionless into his drink, puffy brim of his hat shielding most of his face.

You noticed your friend Robin leaning up against the back wall of the Sunny with a glass of red wine in hand and bit of a scowl on her face.

“You don’t look pleased with the festivities.”

“See that target they put up at the end of the ship?” Robin nods behind you.

You turn and do indeed see a large target placed near the head of the Sunny.

“Yeah?” You inquire.

“Usopp and Franky keep having shooting contests. Franky keeps losing but he won’t give up. I don’t think they’ve sat down all night, and his face is as red as a tomato. Kind of embarrassing…” Robin giggles a little.

“Are you surprised? I guess they’ll be out of our hair for the rest of the night then.” You laugh.

“That’s my point.” Robin rolls her eyes. Your brows raise in realization.

“Ohhhh… you were trying to get laid! I get it now! Well no one’s approached me if you’re still up for it later…” You wink.

“Thank you sweet y/n, always so thoughtful!” Robin sips her wine. “I’ll see if I can find you later if I’m still feeling up for it. Go get a drink and enjoy the party, dear!” Robin waves you on to the kitchen.

You enter the galley and are immediately met with a very sweaty, stressed out Sanji.

“Hi handsome.” You purr as you approach the blonde at the stove.

“Oh, hello my love. I’m afraid the voracious appetite of our captain has rendered me incapacitated for the rest of the evening, the fucking glutton…” Sanji sighs.

“Aww, my poor, tired, love cook.” You coo as you push his bangs out of his eyes. You place a kiss on his cheek. A droplet of blood escapes Sanji’s left nostril. “Well I’ll leave you to it then.” You grab a bottle of cold wine from the fridge and a glass from the shelf and carry them both out to the deck with you.

You stroll over to the table where Law and Zoro were seated, now joined by Luffy whose cheeks were stuffed to bursting with various meats and cheeses.

“You gentlemen mind if I sit with you?” You ask while already sitting down across from Law.

“Not at all, pretty thing. Come have a drink with us.” Zoro smirks at you, holding his hand out to take the wine bottle from you. You oblige and he unsheathes a single blade to pop the cork off for you in dramatic fashion.

“My hero.” You chide as the swordsman fills your glass to the brim. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk, Mr. Roronoa.”

“And what if I am? You say the filthiest shit after you’ve had a whole bottle of wine and it’s fucking incredible.” Zoro shoots you a hungry look as he downs another cup of sake. Luffy giggles. Law straightens up and gives Zoro a confused look.

“Not much of a talker, are you, Trafalgar?” You turn your attention to Law.

“I didn’t know the two of you were a couple.” He states blankly.

“We’re not. I’m seeing everyone.” You smirk across the table at the foreign captain. He looks even more confused. “It’s what I do. I love making my crew mates happy, you can understand that, can’t you?”

Without time to answer, Luffy interjects.

“Haha you should give her a try, Traffy! She’s really something hehe!”

Law’s eyes widen.

“Yeah why not, Tra-Guy? You’re already here eating our food and drinking our booze, why not sample some of the other amenities we have here on the Sunny.” Zoro chuckles as he pours himself another cup of liquor. Zoro must be quite fond of Law, as sharing you is never something he likes to bring up.

“I’m sorry… are you offering me… her? Shouldn’t she be doing that?” Law looks a bit offended.

“Would that make you feel better? My services apply to guests of the Straw Hat pirates as well, and I assure you I can meet whatever needs you may have.” You swirl you wine in the glass and take a long sip.

“Um… No.. that’s.. that’s quite alright, thank you.” Law stutters out his refusal.

“You don’t know what you’re turning down, man. Whatever you’re into, and I mean whatever, she can do it. Sweetest pussy in the Grand Line.” Zoro leans back in his chair.

“Zoro! Don’t be so vulgar around our guest.” You scold the swordsman.

“Whatever, his loss.” Zoro shrugs and slams another drink.

— —

After hours upon hours of dancing and drinking, the party had thinned out quite a bit. Now that things were winding down, you notice the painful ache in your feet from wearing high heels all night. Most everyone had headed to bed and you were considering doing the same until you spy your unfinished bottle of wine on the table with Law still dated at it, alone now.

You sit down across from Law and take a swig from the bottle directly, your glass having been lost several dances ago.

“Classy.” Law remarks from across the table.

“Never said that was part of my resume.” You smirk and take another swallow of alcohol. You pull your feet up into your lap and groan. “God this is the last fucking time I wear these heels.”

You slip off one of your shoes and behind massaging the heel of your foot with both hands. You pause your ministrations to grab another sip of wine when you notice Law’s eyes on you. They weren’t on your breasts close to spilling out of your low cut dress, or your plush thighs squishing against the wood of the bench you were sitting on… they were on your foot in your lap.

There it is.

Ideas filled your head on how to finally break this stoic stranger.

“You’re a doctor, right?” You ask innocently.

“Huh?” Law responds, having been snapped out of what seemed like a trance. “Um, yeah.”

“Could you maybe feel right here? I think it could be swollen.” You extend your nearly naked leg across from you and push the table to the side so that there was nothing between the two of you.

“It..i-it doesn’t look swollen… but if you really want I could… I could take a closer look…” He hesitantly up at you before returning his gaze to your perfectly pedicured foot.

“I’d love that. Thank you.”

Law gingerly takes your foot in both hands and presses firmly into where you were pointing. You squirm a bit, feet incredibly sore from dancing all night. Law starts to rub up and down from your toes to your heel, intently examining every inch. You couldn’t help but notice how his mouth was now parted and his breathing quickened as he stroked your foot.

He stopped abruptly and released your foot from his hold.

“I-it seems fine. You should be fine.”

You drop your foot directly into his lap and push it firmly against the crotch of Law’s jeans.

“Are you sure, doctor? I think you should check again.” You flash him a devious smile as you take another swig from the bottle.

“W-what are you doing, y/n?” Law sputters out, sweat forming on his temples. You feel his cock begin to stir under the sole of your foot.

“You know, Traffy, we could have a lot of fun together…” You push harder against his erection with your foot.

Law winces but he doesn’t respond.

“Y-yeah?” He manages to pant out.

You begin to slowly stroke your foot over his denim clad member, feeling it from base to tip, hot and aching to be freed.

“Mhmm… Why don’t you take him out so we can play? You’re so hard Traffy, must hurt… We’re the only ones left out here, no need to be shy anymore…” You giggle.

Law sucks in a breath before eventually undoing his belt and jeans buttons. His cock springs up as he pulls it out his pants and briefs, laying rigid against his abdomen.

“Wow… you have such a pretty cock, Traffy…” You coo at him as you slip your left shoe off your foot and allow it to join your other foot in his lap.

“D-don’t call me that…” Law whispers out.

“Sorry…” You begin rubbing both of your feet up and down Law’s now exposed length. He watches your movements in awe as his mouth hangs farther open than before. “You’re just so cute I can’t help but tease you…”

Law pays your words no mind as he is mesmerized by the sight of your pretty little feet stroking his cock. Soft pants leave his lips as you continue working him over.

“You wanna cum like this, or do you wanna fuck me, Law?” You ask as you slide the ball of your right foot over his leaking tip.

Without responding verbally, Law grunts and leans forward to pick you up by your waist and lay you down roughly on the table you had scooted out of the way earlier. He rips his shirt over his head, keeping his hat in place. He wastes no time and flips up your frilly pink dress to expose your panties that had grown wet from merely giving a powerful man a foot job.

“I’m not waiting-“ Law says as he pushes your panties to the side and slides the head of his cock from your hole to your clit and back again, coating himself in your wetness. He pushes himself inside of you quickly, causing you to moan and arch your back. After a few experimental thrusts, Law picks up a quick pace and rams his hips into yours, curved cock hitting all the right places inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Law that’s so oh-!” Your eyes snap open at the foreign feeling only to see Law standing between your legs with the outside few toes of your right foot in his mouth. Eyes slammed shut, he doesn’t falter in his thrusts as he savors the taste of your skin on his tongue. He uses one hand to rub at your clit as he caresses your ankle with the other.

“Dirty boy…” You coo up at him as you rake your nails down his abdomen. “You like sucking on my toes, you filthy boy?”

“Mmmm” Law manages to groan out as he peppers wet, sloppy kisses to the sole of your foot now, making sure every inch gets his attention.

“Make me cum and I’ll let you blow all over them.” You demand as you wrap your other leg around his waist and pull him closer.

“Fuck… swordsman wasn’t kidding…” Law grunts out as he picks up the pace of his hips, plowing into you with an ungodly force. He untangles your legs from his body and pushes them up to your chest, allowing himself the perfect angle to heighten your pleasure.

With hands under the crooks of your knees, Law brings you tumbling over the edge of your high and you cried out his name to the starry sky above you as your orgasm overtakes you. With your cunt still pulsing, Law pulls his aching, throbbing cock begging for release from your tight hole and begins stroking it in front of you.

Law grabs both your ankles in one hand and proceeds to blow rope after rope of hot white spend all over your delicate, pink painted toes.

Breathing heavily still, Law takes a few moments to admire his handiwork.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You quip from your exposed state on the table.

Law shoves himself back into his pants and puts his shirt back on. He surprisingly takes the time to gently put your panties back into place and pull your dress down before helping you off the table.

“You aren’t.. going to tell anyone about this… right?” He asks, hiding his eyes again with the brim of his hat.

“About what? You liking feet?” You smirk.

“Y-yeah…”

“You’re secret is safe with me, Traffy.” You say with a wink.

*A/N ........ sorry :)*

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #law x reader #trafalgar d law #one piece law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law #law x y/n #law one piece #torao #traffy

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livlaughloveluke · 10 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ 𝗟𝗨𝗞𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 !

☆ = most popular

→ 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

lovesick- daughter of demeter! reader, fluff

give you the world- daughter of poseidon! reader, fluff ☆

bewitched - daughter of aphrodite! reader, fluff

why i love you- daughter of hades! reader, fluff

goddess- daughter of hera! reader, angst

night shift- child of dionysus! reader, fluff, angst, slight smut

p.1 // p.2

→ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

in a good way- daughter of hypnos! reader, fluff [headcannons] ☆

i thought you wanted to dance- child of hephaestus! reader, fluff [blurb]

saturn- daughter of poseidon! reader, fluff [headcannons]

must be love- demigod! reader, fluff [smau]

munch luke castellan- smut, mdni! [blurb]

luke castellan & his second in command- smut, mdni! [blurb]

pjo character tweets- demigod! reader, fluff [smau] p.1 // p.2

red wine supernova- brown! daughter of poseidon! reader x luke castellan, fluff [smau]

luke nsfw alphabet- smut, mdni! [headcannons]

loser!luke- smut, mdni! [blurb] p.1 // p.2 (p.2 is the actual smut)

→ 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬

UPDATED series of moodboards based on your cabin…

cabin 1 (zeus) / cabin 2 (hera) / cabin three (posideon) / cabin 4 (demeter) / cabin 5 (ares) / cabin 6 (athena) / cabin 7 (apollo) / cabin 8 (artemis) / cabin 9 (hephaestus) / cabin 10 (aphrodite) / cabin 12 (dionysus)

minor goods coming soon…

OLD & SCRAPPED series of moodboards based on your cabin…

cabin 1 (zeus) / cabin 2 (hera) / cabin three (posideon) / cabin 4 (demeter) / cabin 5 (ares) / cabin 6 (athena) / cabin 7 (apollo) / cabin 8 (artemis) / (other gods not finished)

rockstar!luke castellan x rockstar!reader

camp half-blood with luke

based on the song “kiss me”

cowboy!luke ☆

based on “happiness is a butterfly”

cowboy!luke w/ cowgirl!reader

based on “how to disappear”

sea nymph!reader x luke

#luke castellan

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nonnieapple · 2 months ago

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Afk journey, Sinbad, trans male/gender neutral reader, nsfw fanfiction. (I love this man very much)🤍

⛈️☂️Hook, Line, and Sinker☂️⛈️

• (Sinbad x trans!male!Reader)

• r a t i n g: e x p l i c i t • 4 1 4 0 w o r d s

• p o s t e d: 01.11.2024🌧️ navigation

n o t e: sinbad is so hot, i wish men were real :( s u m m a r y: sinbad walks in at the worst possible time, and the following events complicate your relationship further.

It was nearing night, and the hamsters were fast asleep as well as most guests of the inn.

When Sinbad walked into your room, you were staring out of the window with a wistful look, like the look his mothers had when they gazed out at the sea, remembering their husbands, lost forever to the fog and unrelenting waves. He wondered who you longed after, if anyone. Maybe you longed for home. Or for something he couldn't possibly imagine.

Before he closed the door, you broke the silence.

"You dare disturb my rest?"

Even turned away, you heard him. Your voice sent tingles up his leg. The room veered towards cold, the windows open, making the curtains flutter like sails.

"You're really living it up in here," Sinbad remarked, inviting himself to sit down on the fancy armchair flanked by another and a couch in the west of your room.

He hadn't ever been in it yet, and he was sure you wouldn't mind if he just sprawled out a little, he stretched, his boots hitting the leg of the short table. Lit candles sitting upon golden thrones flickered on it. Two glasses and a bottle were there as well.

"As I should, I was to have a vacation, and I'm still getting it, Cedartown or not." You made your way to the couch, your visage somewhat blurry from all the glamour swallowing up your form, the air around you swaying.

If he looked at you too long, he could see something was terribly wrong. It was not something anyone could notice at first, or at second sight, only those looking for it might begin to pull at the thread. He stopped examining you. He wasn't sure what he'd find.

You were like the fog that had almost killed him- leading him in mental circles until he went mad trying to get himself out of it.

Sinbad's leg jerked when you approached. You stood, close, your robe made of small, black, and knitted net. It should've revealed everything you wore under it- instead, everything around your chest and hips darkened and blurred.

The magic that wafted off you made his head spin. Or maybe it was that he drank too much. Sinbad sighed shakily as you ghosted your touch over his face, your eyes sharp and inhuman. The next second, they turned warm.

"Did you drink that swill again? Here, drink something good for once."

He barely caught the bottle you threw into his arms, and he thought, somewhat incredulously, You're too kind.

But, really, Magister- I don't know what to think of you. One second you wanna kill me and the next you're my savior.

I'll never know who you are, will I?

His eyes skimmed over the label. Dark liquid sloshed within darker green walls. "Woah! Fancy stuff. It's actually red."

The wine he was used to at most establishments was pale, watered down to save costs. You shrugged. You must've been used to good wine, good food, good people. He envied you.

"It's from an... old friend."

The way you said that with so much hesitance made his heart drop.

"They must be rich."

Sinbad popped open the bottle and poured himself some. He might as well indulge, and your room was a good place to do that. Upon second thought it might be questionable.

He had to hold back on drinking. He couldn't afford to do something stupid.

"Beyond that, and a massive drunkard I could never deny, but as I don't drink I have no use for his gifts." You took up the whole couch, propping up your head with a hand, the other playing idly with the belt of your delicate robe.

If he was to be mean, he'd liken you to a fish caught in a net, but he couldn't lie, you were more of a siren.

You hummed.

"I guess I could have a glass."

You poured yourself nearly half the bottle, and swallowed a third of the glass, drinking like a fish. He struggled not to gawk at you.

"Old friend... bet you have plenty of those. Not like it bothers me," he tacked on at the end, scratching at his scalp lightly.

The fireplace crackled and sputtered red. Strange, it gave off no warmth. Was it magic? Sheesh, what about you wasn't magic?

The rug beneath his boots was sure real, and a real good rug, too. If he were to get piss drunk he'd choose the rug over the street to pass out on. Oh, there were even pillows on the floor. Perfect.

"I mean it. We were friends, he isn't an old flame- as far as I know."

As far as you knew?

"You sure about that?" He raised a brow.

"Quite. Though one actual old flame, I wonder how she's doing. It's been a while, I last saw her in Holistone, it has been months since then. Damn Hogan for sending me on this "vacation", now I'm stuck in the middle of the sea with no idea when I'll see him or Valen. He should've gone with me."

Pushing aside his slight offense at the Rustport slander, you had mentioned General Hogan and Valen a few times. One was a Magistrate and, guess what, General of Holistone, the other some swashbuckling knight who, as he understood it, was hitting on you.

"Well, I'm glad he didn't."

"Hm? Why is that?" You smirked, your eyes glimmering like the wine you swished in your hand.

If Sinbad was pale, you would've seen his face lose color in an instant.

"I mean- I meant- he would've drowned in his armor, is all! It would've been worse than what happened to Chippy."

He drank quickly so he couldn't see your gloating expression.

"You're holding your glass like you're throttling a neck."

Even if he drank and drank, he still heard your voice, and if he plugged his ears, you'd get into his mind, too.

He couldn't tell if that was a way to hint at his discomfort or point out his terrible manners.

"I'm not much of a wine drinker."

You, on the other hand, held your glass between your thumb and forefinger ever so lightly. That fucking hand was calling him poor just at a glance.

"This better?" He emulated the way you did it, though it was nowhere near as graceful.

"Much better. The wine compliments your shirt."

The red, satin shirt, an illusion you cast, felt good nonetheless, and the wine was divine. It was bright, just sweet enough, and with a hint of berries and zest. It tasted more like the few fruits he had tried than the usual- as you put it- "swill" he drank.

It settled warmly in his chest, with the occasional sour tingle in his cheeks.

Sinbad didn't want to leave your room. It was fancy, and more importantly, it had wine AND you.

"How've you been?" You said between sips, your expression softening.

"Good. I've been spending a lot of time poking around the ship, avoiding going to Brineville so I don't have to explain myself. Things are better than before I met ya, anyway, I can finally do what I want, and... everything's so calm."

It was strange to not have to think about every little expense anymore for the village now that no one threatened its safety, and he was essentially a "hero". Sure, he still had to make money somehow and Rustport was as rusty as ever, but so much had been lifted off his shoulders.

By you, no less.

He'd said he'd repay you. That nagged at his mind sometimes. What could you possibly want?

It was nothing to worry about. It wouldn't be worse than what he had gone through.

"Planning on leaving soon?"

If he wasn't mistaken, he saw you frown ever so slightly.

"Not yet. I've got a lot to do here before I leave. What about you?"

You threw back your head and let your hair spill over the edge of the couch.

"You know, been here and there, helping people as I do, went fishing with my familiars. I like helping people and spending time with them but I do need alone time."

That was why the hamsters were in another room. Sinbad had to admit, they were cute and had grown on him. You truly were the most precious thing he had ever found washed up on the beach. He'd be no one without you.

"Are you leaving soon?"

You shook your head. "I want to stay a bit longer, until you leave, I suppose. I won't have much to do then. I'm dealing with people's problems rather quickly."

Of course, you weren't staying only for him. You were busy.

"I'm glad you're staying a bit longer." He couldn't imagine being without you now. You were the closest friend he'd had. Everyone wanted something from him, and you had asked for the least, always generous, if quirky.

You smiled, returning his giddy expression, which he hadn't noticed himself pull.

He felt his face get warmer. Must've been all the wine.

He and you listened to the crackling of the fire, finishing your glasses. You lounged like a cat. You were the image of peace when you closed your eyes. He rolled up his sleeves, feeling somewhat hot all of a sudden. He waited for you to kick him out, it'd happen sooner or later.

You watched from under your lashes.

"I was surprised that you had tattoos, though they are common here," you said.

He had helm tattoos on each forearm. "Funny story, I got them when I was drunk, like, extremely. I don't remember where or how exactly I got them." At least they healed fine and he had not felt much pain. He hadn't felt much at all.

"They suit you well." Your eyes lingered for a while.

"I have more that you haven't seen." He smirked, putting on that smooth-talking persona again.

"Although tempting, you won't smooth-talk me, Sinbad," you said sternly.

He sighed. A guy had to try. You were so damn hard to scam and trick, it was annoying. You were one of the only people immune to his charms. You were looking at him like he was a helpless animal. Again.

Instead of words of pity, he was hit with:

"You look upset. Mope in another room, I'm exhausted," you said, yawning and turning away from him unceremoniously.

He left with a huff.

"Good night to you too, Magister Merlin."

...

"Good night."

He should've been asleep.

Sinbad crept across the hall towards your newly luxurious room, careful not to make a sound, like he was escaping from a dungeon (like he had many times).

Sinbad cracked open your door. Strange, he left it unlocked, he thought. The room was dark and silent except for the sounds of the breeze coming in through the windows, like breaths.

You seemed to be asleep, as far as he could tell. He was sure he had heard something from your room. Maybe it had been the wind.

"Magister?" he said into the black, closing the door behind himself. It was not entirely dark, he noticed as he moved towards your canopy bed, as there was a lone candle burning close to the window.

The fireplace had no remains of smoldering wood.

The windows- they were closed shut. The sound was not from there. Had it been the draft instead? If this was how noisy the good rooms were, he'd go complain to Bols later.

Sinbad pushed past the closed curtains of the canopy bed, the fabric heavy and lush, a velvet he hadn't even dreamed of touching before, with much trepidation, his heart tense, ready for a beast to lunge at him any moment.

He didn't see what happened, it happened swiftly, the shape in the bed shifting loudly. The sound of the breeze halted.

"Ah, Sinbad. I was just thinking of you," you said, and it was undeniably you, your voice quiet yet clear, a little exasperated, your breathing so shallow he would've believed you if you said you had run around the whole of Rustport in a minute.

He would've believed you if you hadn't been in your bed all this time.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he stammered with wide eyes, gaze lost as he adjusted, making out your fuzzy shape. It was leaner than usual. He sensed none of your usual glamours on you.

"I could ask the same of you."

He leaned his knee on the bed, and you moved away.

"Some noise woke me up, and I thought it came from your room. Was I right?" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, seeing that you lay rigid and didn't want him to come near you. To him, it seemed that something had happened, and you were uncooperative as to what.

One of his jobs was to get information. Clearly, he wasn't much good at it with you around.

"Did something happen, Magister? You're worrying me." His brows lowered over his honey-brown eyes.

"You didn't knock. You should leave my room." The light brightened against your face. Your skin was dewy and your hair was disheveled, the bedsheets in disarray. You were a mess.

The Merlin, a mess?

"I did know- and- you can't kick me out again!" He leaned over you as you leaned against cushiony pillows.

You pushed on his chest to get him away, your hand hot and humid.

"... Are you dense or what?" you snapped. "What do you think I'm doing in a dark room, alone, in my bed, gasping for air?"

His face transitioned from bewilderment to horror.

Oooh.

Embarrassment hit him like a wave. Holy Tritonus, he had heard you moaning. In this case, he was dense beyond belief. And the reason you were recoiling wasn't because something was wrong, it was, because, well. He chose the worst possible time to intrude.

And the reason your frame seemed leaner now was because you had no glamours concealing your body indeed, and no clothes besides that robe. He could see your bare skin between the fabric you held together with a tense hand.

He had trouble not looking. And it wasn't the wine, that had long left his system.

"Shit, I... I didn't..."

He had no excuse, and so close to you, caging you in, neither of you could escape, captured in the world's most awkward stalemate. The words drowned in the depths of his mind.

"You said you were thinking about me earlier. Do you mean...?" he trailed off, his voice mumbling and strained. Everything felt like a dream. He'd pinch himself if he wasn't frozen.

"I left the door open for you. I didn't expect you to come."

Sinbad's breathing had accelerated. He had already had thoughts about you. He couldn't possibly resist anything you asked him to do. That hint of servitude remained in him, and he was all eager to please.

"I'm here." He tried to smile, but it came out rather strained.

You pulled him in by tangling your hands in his freshly dried hair. Your lips were one push away.

He had already gotten ready for bed- his skin infused with whatever fancy soaps he managed to snatch this time. It mixed with that woody scent of a faraway home that clung to you no matter how many times you got drenched with rain or seawater.

"So?"

He felt your every breath. Berries.

"So..."

You kissed him first.

You were far from a reserved, shy mage. You nipped at his lip and broke the kiss just to piss him off.

He cursed like the sailor he was. Next thing he knew, his boots were lost in the dark along with his scarf (it felt like sacrilege to wear it during this), his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned by your nimble fingers. You traced over the anchor tattoo between his collarbone and shoulder.

That wasn't how he expected you to find it.

Your hips were fuller than they appeared, filling him with thoughts he couldn't possibly speak, and your waist was small, perfect for holding when he-

Your chest wasn't quite... flat. That made him stop. His silent question hung in the air.

"I'm trans," you said, amused at how he was surprised by you again and again. You had hidden your chest to a point where he couldn't have guessed.

He had never been with someone like you (in any sense), but he didn't mind.

Your chest was soft, each breast perfectly fitting into his hand. At each caress and pull you reacted accordingly. It was his turn to be amused, and he was enjoying it immensely.

Your face and voice did not falter, the only thing betraying your feelings being your shallow breathing. Would your breaking point be easy to reach, or would he reach his first?

Goosebumps raised on your thighs when he felt them up with his calloused fingers. Only the richest of the rich could have pristine hands in Rustport. Sinbad spread your legs with little resistance from you, his hand wrapping around most of your thighs' circumference.

His hand dipped between your legs. You were wet, the wetness covering parts of your inner thighs. The hotness ignited a fever in him, a fever he hadn't felt in a long time, and never so strongly. Most of his prior fucks were hookups, and sometimes, to get out of uncomfortable situations in his jobs. They didn't happen often and he hardly looked forward to them. With you, he could hardly stop his hands and other body parts of his from thrusting right into you. You were by far the hottest guy he'd been with.

At the rough touch on your clit you jolted with a soft sigh, your legs closing on instinct, but they were stopped by Sinbad being in the way.

The thought crossed his mind that you were surrounded by others from all sides, and at any second, anyone could walk in. He didn't mind- he liked a bit of danger.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered close to your ear, hand exploring all the places that could feel best for you. He would make sure you'd remember this as a positive memory, and even if you left and never saw him again, the scene would stick in your mind.

"I've been better," you said with a shortness of breath, but impressively coherently.

"Don't you think this is a bad time for jokes?" Would you still talk like that if he filled you up? Would your face still be so serene?

"It's a perfect time for-" he interrupted you as he slid his finger over your clit over and over again, making your legs tremble and your brows lower. He might've not been experienced, but he was a quick learner.

After he got you to a point where you were panting and your pulse hammered relentlessly, he lowered his finger to your entrance, teasing it. You covered your mouth. A thin string, like fishing line, followed his hand as he withdrew.

Sinbad began with one finger, your tight walls even hotter than your wetness. Fuck. It felt amazing on his fingers. It might've made him cum instantly if he tried fucking you like that.

"Relax your muscles, there's no need to be tense," he said soothingly.

You visibly stopped straining and let him push his finger in fully. It circled your smooth cervix. You were pretty shallow inside.

He was clueless at that point, unsure of what to do for you.

"Curl your finger towards yourself."

Now you were the one close to his ear, leaning on his shoulders so he could have better access and less lewd sounds would be heard.

When he curled it as you said, he felt a spongy tissue that gave way under his prodding. You bit into his shoulder with little regard for how much that shit hurt. It would leave a mark, or even better, a scar. Yay. One more to the arsenal. He would have a hard time explaining that one, as it was in a visible place between his neck and shoulder muscles.

He groaned at the pain, pulling you halfway onto him. One hand of his rubbed your clit, and the other, inside you. You must've been leaving a hickey judging by the slight tingle on his neck. It made him harder than he already was.

Feeling every little groove inside and outside you couldn't be replicated by just ramming his dick in, and he thanked you that you had made the choice, since he was unwise- in general.

"What would your love-struck Knight think, Magister?" He pressed his lips into your shoulder. Slim, but surprisingly muscled from carrying every situation you got into on your shoulders.

You'd look good on top of him. With other people, his mind veered into nonsense and mundane thoughts of what he'd have for breakfast. Right now all he could think about was you, you in every way, in every angle, his. Everyone was right- he was greedy. Just not about money.

"Getting fingered by someone you met, what, a month ago? If even that?" Sinbad smirked, making sure you saw his expression. You bit your lip and gazed at him like you were oh so woeful. Would you tell the Knight what you'd done tonight? He didn't care if you did or not, but if you did, Sinbad would've loved like to see his face.

"He'd be jealous, I bet," you stuttered out with each thrust and curl of his finger, and when he added a second, you were reduced to adorable huffs and sighs, far from the virtuous Magister Merlin out in Rustport streets, a man of class and poise. A man who was now gasping for air with Sinbad's fingers deep in his cunt.

He kissed from the swell of your chest, up to your collarbones and neck. You were not a man, not a human, you were a dream, a fog a foolish sailor like him would lose himself in.

Screw him trying to make you never forget him. He'd never forget you, as he fell for you hook, line, and sinker, a fish falling for bait. He would never find someone like you. Someone who so easily saw through his tricks and had him willingly serve.

He could do it every night, sneaking in, fucking you whichever way you wanted him to, and acting like nothing was afoot.

You got him.

He kept gently fingering you as you gasped in an orgasm, one quite notable, your body going soft against his, your skin sticky and heart pounding.

What he had done felt automatic, like his body wasn't entirely his, his rhythm mechanical in nature, following your every whim and whine. He had just gotten you off, willingly, giddily, even, and enjoyed it.

That had been a first for him.

The first thing you said to him once you regained your breath and composure was: "Go wash your hands."

What a sweet way to snap him out of it.

It was fortunate that you had a bathroom attached to your bedroom. He didn't feel keen on doing a walk of shame through the halls.

The mirror revealed to him how hard you'd bitten him, leaving not only a hefty tooth mark, but even a hickey, too high for his scarf to hide. He cursed you inside his mind. All things considered, it was expected to have him do whatever he wanted to you, not the other way around. If you told him to jump into the sea right this second he probably would've done it. A flush was blooming across his face, not too obvious, but there.

You were next in the bathroom, and when you returned, Sinbad was on your bed, grinning. He did not budge a muscle.

"You're not kicking me out again, Magister. This handsome face needs its beauty sleep."

"I'll allow it," you said, tucking yourself in on the other side. Sinbad lay curled to take up as little space as possible. It wasn't exactly comfortable. You neared him, tugging his arms around your back, and you entwined under the thick blanket.

Hook, line, and sinker.

He didn't want the morning to arrive and so cruelly take you away. He'd savor every moment he had with you. For once in his life, he did not feel bound to you by duty, but by the call of his heart, similar to how he felt about the sea. Like the sea, you'd pull him in, and keep him wallowing in feelings so alien.

Did you know what you did to him? He didn't need you to. He just needed you close.

"Good night," he said.

"Seriously this time?"

"Seriously, I promise."

The lone candle flickered out.

#w r i t i n g #☂️#a f k j o u r n e y #afk journey #afk journey x reader #afk sinbad #afk sinbad x reader

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rise-my-angel · 1 year ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

27 - The Winter Rose

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, descriptions of blood and violence, mentions of character death, imprisonment, minor self harm, discussions of miscarriage and child loss, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, possessiveness

Notes: I'm sure this chapter title and the last chapter title have no deeper meaning whatsoever. Nope just totally, utterly random. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You were thankful Maester Pylos was easier going then most, meaning he was quick enough and familiar enough with you to listen when you told him not to ask anything about it. His eyes were drawn right to the scar as he looked over your bruised ribs, but he kept his word and said nothing regarding it. At least for the most part. As he moved on to carefully cleaning the somewhat still bloody wound on your forearm he did however comment in jest, “Should I be concerned if these ones do not heal? That might make acquiring more in battle leave you looking a little worse for wear, your grace.”

You huffed a laugh before wincing. “Don’t, I’m in too much pain to laugh.” Glancing out the open window to the night sky, your eyes narrowed in a weary thought before finding that voice. “Pylos, when did Maester Cressen...”

He pause in his work as he glanced up almost in an apologetic manner. “Not long after the start of the war. He-” Trying to cut himself off before you sat up straighter to look at him did he feel the pressure to continue. “I mean not to speak ill of him, but it was at his own hand. Poison in a goblet of wine, hoping to share a toast with the red woman. It worked on him, but not her.”

Both looking at the other in a dreaded silence, neither were sure what to make of it. Even now, with what you had lived and Pylos had seen. You swallowed heavily before relaxing a bit to let him continue in quiet. “Who else?” His eyebrows raised and your voice found itself lowering in roughness. “Who else is gone? Because of this woman?”

Sighing deeply, Pylos pulled away. Sitting back as he looked sympathetically. “There was your uncles. Lord Renly first, then Ser Axell-” Your head shot up in a confusion for a moment repeating his name as Pylos nodded. “Yes. Your father had allowed the red woman to..burn alive those who did not convert to the Lord of Light, and Ser Axell was amongst them.”

Your heart sunk in your chest, what had you allowed this woman to turn you into father?

“One of your own cousins was to be sacrificed until Ser Davos betrayed his grace’s word and aided the boy in escaping-” You repeated the word cousin with more confusion and he seemed surprised you had not known this information. “A bastard boy of Robert’s. The red woman had need of King’s blood for her witchcraft, and sought out a living bastard of Roberts and brought him here with intent to sacrifice.”

Heart skipping a beat, you heard not the footsteps approaching the door from the winding stairwell up to the top of the Sea Dragon Tower. “Robert had..well he has many bastards in King’s Landing, which one did my father bring here?”

You did not like the pause, the sorrow of something you hadn’t known. “I am so sorry, I did not realize you hadn’t known...” The pairs of feet stood outside the door, one hand holding out in front of the other figure to give a moment for both to listen. “King Joffery..he had ordered..he had ordered his City Watch to find and execute all of Robert’s bastard children. He believed that they posed a threat to his claim should the rumours of his mother and the Ser Jaime Lannister to be true. Only one remains as far as we know..”

You wanted to ask who, but the answer was sickening no matter what, because it was a boy he said. Not the innocent life of a tiny baby girl in the arms of her young, sweet mother who knew none better. What was her name? Barra? That was it, the little girl with already growing dark hair and green eyes that shined up at you when she woke up in her mother’s arms.

Lord Baelish had never specified how many of them were out there, but you could only imagine the truth. You had on more then one occasion come across the outside of his chambers, Ser Jaime Lannister posed morosely outside forced to listen to your uncle with however many women he drew into his bed that time. It was one of the few times in those last few months before Lord Arryn’s death that you and the Lannister had found genuine common ground.

That both of you found it nothing but an insult to force a brother to listen to his King insult his sister, no matter how little love existed in such a marriage. You both had joked how judging by the sounds, you couldn’t tell if it was worse if the number of women he had inside was more or less then the number you had thought of. Watching girl after girl leave and sometimes return or a new one would show, and how many of them had sons or daughters which now lay dead at your repulsive cousins hands?

Before Pylos could speak more of it, the door to his study opened and the tense air was cut short as both Jon and Ser Davos walked in. Pylos making motion to stand only to be stopped by Jon offhandedly waving off the need of a gesture of formality. Yourself however, stood as you and Davos looked to one another, a full volume of regret somewhere behind his eyes. “Your Grace, I came to apologize.”

Were Jon’s head and heart not still racing in something treading close to anger, he may have found the strength in him to laugh at how easily you dismissed that, almost not even having realized there was any slight to apologize for. “Unless you’ve committed a crime in the hours since I last saw you, you haven’t done anything I’ve taken offence with. You've known me my whole life, that allows you to think I'm an idiot sometimes.”

Almost dropping his face a bit more flat as he looked at you, tone a bit heavier but more flat as well thankfully. “What has the world come to, when it’s easier to apologize to Stannis than it is you?” Both of you had a small laugh at such, you stepping forward as Pylos gave more space to those all in the room.

Crossing your arms there was a beat passed between you before your own voice found the right words, “I should be the one to apologize. After what happened to Matthos..being on the other side of it wouldn’t make it any easier, it was the best option we had but that doesn’t change..” Something unsaid between both of you, and it wasn’t your place or anyone's but Davos himself to truly bring it up all on his own volition. “What I’m trying to say is, I am the one whose sorry.”

The room was quiet as was his own voice a little far away with a tinge of amusement. “Don’t imagine it’s good manners to reject a Queen’s apology.”

Only that made you laugh, and laugh hard enough that you had to stop mid way through with a wince at your ribs. “You should hear the way some of my own men speak to me, I’m not what one would call particular with manners anymore.” Your eyes shifted a bit more stern however, a question tinted on your lips to follow. “Dare I ask whats been done with our new prisoners?”

“Most of the Golden Company has been put in the main dungeons, none to happy with how crowded it is but least they’re far enough down we won’t hear them complain.” Nodding, brows narrowing as he read that too. “As for our honoured guests,” a twist of jest in his tone matching his expression to choose his words carefully. “They’ve been put in separate cells for now, Connington requesting one for each of them away from the other.”

All four in the room found something strange in such a thought, but there was little to ponder over it in the moment. Jon had been standing some feet back, arms crossed over his chest with a dark, narrowed anger in his eyes that matched the rough strain held back in his own voice. “If they are willing to cooperate I can work something out with Stannis. Their army in the dungeon, I have no reason to keep them there as well. If they hear us out they might be of some help, if not, I see no reason they can’t at least have freedom to stay here or leave.”

You nodded, having not a clue what such a conversation with your father would look like and yet it seemed most of the reasonable ones anymore were between him and Jon now. Working together in White Harbour was the most you had gotten along with him since he was still in King’s Landing. It was not your place to question that, nor did you feel the need too. As long as whatever he wanted, wasn’t going to push Jon into anything he didn’t want.

All was quiet as the three of you now walked the halls back towards the ground level, you finding specific instructions to Davos. “Gather enough men to check around the curtain cliffs for structural damage. It’s hard enough getting around this place without those paths getting cut off. And tell Amos to start clearing the bay when the rest of it has put itself out. I don’t want our shores turning into a graveyard.”

Making his leave, you found enough drive still flowing through you that you had thought to tun to Jon with something else entirely on your mind only to have him glance down the hall, before his face twisted in a deep irritation. Grabbing you by the arm and all but hauling you into a small alcove just around an empty corner. Crowding you in and instant, hands roughly holding you by your upper arms as he looked you over, the blood and grime he found even more minimal then it was still on himself before letting them fly up to cup your cheeks.

His hold was tender, but the raggedness in his voice certainly was not. “What in Seven Hells did you think you were doing out there?”

If the look in his eyes weren’t such a brightness that yet gleaned with something desperate you may have teased him, but instead your heart only dropped further then it sat within your chest. You noticeably, did not reach out to him in anyway. “We needed Connington to surrender, I did what needed to be done. “

“By putting yourself in danger?” Trying to defend yourself, Jon cut you off with his voice trying to raise but being unwilling to go anything near a yell this close to you. “What happened if you lost?”

You on the other hand, were a bit louder but high pitched in an unsure lack of confidence as he stared you down. “Aegon wasn't about to give up, he wasn't going to go willingly I had to do something.”

This time, something uncomfortable had boiled in Jon’s chest and did in fact, come out as a yell with an anger rushing through. His hands on your face dropped as he tried to turn away, only getting a few feet away before his face still twisted in anger faced you again.

“I never would’ve let you anywhere near this fight if I knew this was what you were going to do.” If he expected you to argue, you didn’t. Deep down he knew you wouldn’t. His voice a little quieter but just as on edge as he ran a hand across his mouth before he turned closer to point at you almost in a lecture. “I shouldn’t even let you within fifty feet of a sword if you think your best chance is to always throw yourself at the enemy first.”

Again, you didn’t fight him in any way. Instead your nails dug into the skin of your other fingertips as your arms sat tensely at your side, jaw clenching as you flickered between his face and the ground beside him.

Your voice far more quiet and unsure then his anger. “I’m the one who actually saw you dead, you know.” His eyes narrowed briefly but you looked away again. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see me at the Twins. You weren’t the one between us who sat there staring at your corpse all beacuse you were a few hours too late to stop it. First time you felt my scar was when I was alive, I felt yours when you were dead long enough down there your skin was turning blue.”

He had barley moved, and your voice hadn’t raised. It wavered in between upset and something darker but you just stood quiet and stiff, Jon trying to gently call your name but your jaw clenched further. A shake of your head before you continued to stare away from him. “You’re so afraid of losing me out there but I know exactly what you look like when you’re dead. You don’t think I hate not being strong enough to be at your side, to have your back if no one else does? Or do you think it’s just easy for me to imagine coming up after a battle and seeing you on the ground exactly like you were that morning?”

You looked up to him finally and found instead all the anger had transferred to your eyes, only a heartbreaking softness left in his, but now as Jon stood there you knew he wasn’t certain if reaching out to you again was a good idea. Not when you were this on edge.

“Do you really think I’m fine with the fact that I’m too weak to protect you?”

He wanted to reach out to you so badly but you’d flinch away from him the second he even twitched in your direction. His grey eyes swimming with that need however and could not hide it from your own eyes distant in a pain. Your name murmured on his lips, “Why do you think I asked you if you wanted to learn how to use a sword?” Your eyebrow raised in confusion, “That night in Winterfell, why do you think I wanted to teach you when I caught you looking at the practice swords?”

It was still one of you fondest memories of that visit. How you had been so caught off guard he swiped at your legs and it sent you knocking to the ground. Looking up in confused anger to see a fourteen year old Jon, that dashing smirk on his lips as he swung his own practice one around in one hand looking down at you. His voice at that point already having developed so close to the deep raspiness it was to this day.

He had teased you about not turning your back on your enemies before helping you up. Accepting the shove you gave him.

Risking taking a step forward, you tensed a little as you looked away but you otherwise did not try and back away from him. Jon’s voice growing softer as he spoke, trying to coax your eyes to his. “I never thought you’d ever need it. Never thought you’d find yourself having a life where you’d need to protect yourself like that. I only asked if you wanted to learn how, beacuse I wanted an excuse to spend time alone with you.”

Your eyes didn’t meet his, but you looked closer, enough that the gaze now trained on Longclaw sat at his side, brows slightly narrowed. “You spent plenty of time with me, in those days.”

Jon risked another step forward, and you tried not to let it choke up inside you how careful he tended to be when he could see whenever you were in a more high strung state. He always knew exactly when and how far to keep his distance until you settled enough. “Not the way I wanted. You spent most of your days working beside my father and when you weren’t there was always something trying to take your time away from me. It was an excuse to spend time with you and no one would be around to interrupt.”

Glancing more up, you found the blood splattered across his chest plate, somewhat covering the direwolves. You more mumbled then anything, not having the ability to argue at the best of times with Jon. “I didn’t learn how to use a bow to set a thousand men on fire, but that came in handy when the time needed it.”

Jon’s hands itched but he kept them to himself. “Never in my life did I think teaching you all those years ago meant you’d be putting your life in danger beacuse of it. I didn’t think you’d ever have any use for it, and I don’t expect you to do it now.”

It was a mistake looking up, his grey eyes were so wide and bright. A shine to them which radiated something so beautiful as it echoed against the rest of his face. How more women didn’t fall madly in love with Jon, you did not understand. Because even now, they were enough to make you melt enough he stepped within a foot of you. You tried to speak multiple times, but ultimately let a sigh out as you looked away from him in your own frustration. “I knew if I could get him alone, I might be able to overwhelm him quicker then he could me.

Looking back up at him, neither of you held any anger anymore. You both hated having to be together in a life full of blood. You hated it with Robb, and you hated it now. None of the lives you ever planned out as a wishful little girl included this much war and death. Jon tilted your head up with a tender touch at your jaw, making you meet his eyes as he leaned close enough you could feel his breathe dancing across your skin.

His other hand reached out, grasping your hand to guide it to his waist before settling his on yours, almost a prompt to tell you to let your other do the same thing. Which you obeyed. His tone was as gentle as he could make it, light and airy as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “And if Aegon had killed you, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him myself.” The almost loving tone as he ran his hand on your jaw along the skin to your cheek contrasted quite strangely with the dedicated violence of his words. “You’re duty isn’t to put yourself in danger, and it’s my duty to keep you safe. I’m only asking you to stop making my job so hard.”

Finally, he had managed to pull a breathy laugh from you. Him returning one back, leaning a bit more into you with his own mesmerizing smile as he did so. One of your hands on his waist jumped up, going from there right up to dancing your fingertips along his chest plate, not caring much to avoid the blood as he you traced over the direwolves. “I didn’t do it to scare you.”

“I know.” His hand moved to run across the back of your head, his fingers clearly toying with the idea of pulling your hair loose as he was there. “I’m not trying to make it seem like I want to control you, it..I hate that I can’t always be there to protect you. I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. And I know I have to work on that, on accepting that.”

Nodding, the air between you both felt much less suffocating then before. Hard to overcome the fact that you found it scary, the idea of arguing with Jon. He felt things deeply and intensely, and you hated the thought that you could ever be the one to set him off in a bad way. Especially in moments like this, his grey eyes so soft and full painted towards you and hands gentle like you were the delicate thing to treasure in his touch.

Letting your hands reach up and cup the sides of his cheek and jaw, he moved with you in an instant as if reading every inch of your mind. Leaning down to meet you half way, the second his lips gently brushed against yours, he moved to grab your waist to steady you against him. Nothing more then a gentle dance without pushing the other too far, and yet Jon’s hands kept growing tighter despite the kiss growing no more heated.

The second a tiny sigh slipped from you as you parted, a light dizziness in your head with a satisfied hum along with it however, was a step too far. Jon’s hands suddenly dropping down to your hips, and the innocence of the moment died out as he, somewhat roughly, pushed you against the wall. His lips kissing you harshly, deepening it the second you grabbed at his shoulders with a whine, crowding you against it before letting one hand slip to the back of your head.

This time, he pulled out the ties keeping your hair up without needing a single glance. Running through the loose strands before yanking your head to tilt up so he could press against you entirely. Biting at your lip only once before demanding you let him slip his tongue inside your mouth, running along yours as the hold on your hair was keeping your lips from being able to part from him whatsoever.

It was the exact same thing as before it seemed, you with nothing but innocent intentions and Jon let it consume him like an inhuman force blinding him with a raw lust. Your hands reached up to let his hair loose but were caught in their path as Jon all but shoved your legs apart, moving a knee to invade the space between. As he shoved that same knee up against between your legs, he used his grip on your hip to grind you down against it, powerless against his strength to stop it.

Biting your lips, running his tongue along yours and tasting your mouth with an increasing demand and greed as he started to guide your hips to move in a harsh but slow grind. Too many layers keeping you from feeling it so directly, but Jon was unfair in how strong he was and he kept you pressed against him as he moved you along until he felt your hands shake against your hold on his shoulders.

Your insides burned as his did, screaming in fire at you, but not to be put out. A pleasure that twisted and turned like a coil to snap at any moment begging him to throw you into the flames at his own mercy, and your heart raced so much those across the castle were like to hear it pounding. It was as if something took over, pulling finally from your lips as his eyes now black as the night outside looked into yours.

His lips red and swollen as he hadn’t pulled from you enough to break the small strands of saliva his kiss brought between you. Lips parted he breathed heavily until he looked down, keeping you against his knee as one hand now flew to find just enough room at the edge of your pants to slip down.

Jon’s mind aggressively thinking about how much he wanted to be home. Bring you home to Winterfell so he could go back to you having the freedom to walk around in your beautiful dresses and there would be not a thing in his way but your tiny layer of fabric that he could soak you through in seconds.

Teeth almost gritting as he hissed, finding your clit as the rest of your core was shoved too tightly against his knee, still moving you against him only now his fingers pushed more. Running harsh and tightly over the sensitive spark before almost twisting it as if it were the small buds on your breasts he would roughly yank at, twist so cruelly but on something now that made you cry out.

His mouth covered yours instantly, brows furrowed as he did so as if he was angry someone might have heard you. Running your covered core along his knee and his fingers rubbing, twisting and playing with your clit as he licked his way back into your mouth, keeping you unable to moan out loud or catch your breathe. Tensing hard in his arms, Jon pushed his knee up firmer and forced your hips down as much as he could as he ran his fingers tightly and twisted the core in you so suddenly.

But you tensed up, gasped into his kiss and then nothing. He pulled away. Again. His hand, his knee, even his lips. He stood almost a foot away from you, hands now steadying you by your upper arms again as you felt so stinging you wanted to cry. Three times now, and it was starting to be painful each time he refused you. Husking down at you, accent so thick only you could understand it from being so close, “Please, don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again.”

Almost unable to speak through the thick fog in your head you nodded, but he pulled you by a hand at your chin so as he spoke his lips brushed yours. “I want you to promise me, darling. Promise you’ll never do anything like that again.”

You weren’t in the right mind to guess which, but you wondered far off if he had done this on purpose or not. Put you in such a desperate state to get you to agree to anything he’d ask, or was this just out of his own worried panic over your safety fighting with some darker need he held for you?

Either way, your hands ran along his chest plate again as you nodded,“I won’t. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Looking to his eyes, they were almost seen as water hidden behind their depths as he looked at you almost heartbreakingly. “Jon..” You bit your lip almost nervously to ask, it sounding too innocent in your airy tone for such a request, “Could..we...”

But Jon only kissed you again, one last bite to your bottom lip as his tongue ran gently over the marks his teeth left and pulling back again. His hand cupping the back of your hair once more, the other now gentle on your waist. “No.” Your eyes squeezed closed in frustration as he kissed your forehead again, speaking against the skin there too. “But I want you to start keeping track of how often I don’t let you.”

Your brows furrowing as your heart still beat loud in your ears, “Why?”

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, this time more gentle and loving. Resting his own against it as he curled the hand on your waist around your lower back to pull you more into a gentle embrace. “Because however many times I take it away from you, I’m going to double. Give you twice as many to make up for it whenever I fuck you. You’re looking at how many? Six? Eight?”

You actually laughed, and so did he. Your head falling onto his shoulder as you shook with an exhausted laughter. “Remember that day in the wolfswood when I admitted I didn’t know what having one feels like? I’ve decided I regret ever telling you that now.” He asked why and you could hear the grin, “Because you only let me have one after doing this exact thing three times then.”

Jon didn’t respond right away, but it wasn’t even in lust he retorted. Almost just enough in a dry tone that you would smack him for being a smart ass, were you still children. “If I’m adding those three, then we are up to at least twelve.” You sighed, and he grinned more. Pulling you against his chest with both arms, one more around the back of your head now as yours were at his waist. “Keep talking, darling. I’ll keep adding them. I’ll be between your legs sun down to sun up at this pace.”

Sometimes it was hard to tell if your fathers men gave a hard time just to see how long your resolve would put up with it. You had been going back and forth before the man finally accepted the orders and made his leave.

The deep rumbling of a familiar voice came up to your side as you stood watching the men around the main gates working to clear and clean of the dead. “I’d throw them off the sides of that cliff before I let a lanky shit talk to me like that.”

Glancing up to your right to find Tormund watching the same as you did before glancing to you with an amused raise in an eyebrow. You turned back with little expression, voice as flat and done with this night as before. “I grew up here. Known most of these men my whole life, they talk to me like that because they know I let them. They certainly wouldn’t speak to my father that way.”

You tried not to glance to where he was in the distance. You felt a bit conflicted on how to handle things. On one hand, you were greatly thankful for him in just the blood spilling hours before and yet Pylos’s words rung in your mind and you couldn’t stop thinking of it. You didn’t know about your uncle, he was your mother’s own brother as well how much had been burned to dust and bone on these shores?

“You did well.” Glancing back up at him with curiosity, “On the cliff. You did well, not an easy climb that kind of rock but I was impressed. You and the Greyjoy.”

Smirking you shrugged a shoulder before crossing your arms over your torso. “Should I in return congratulate or apologize that your daughters husband lives to see another day?” He chuckled deeply, and it brought a smirk out of you. Taking a moment to let it simmer before you turned to something more on the side of quiet. “Would you have it in you to do more of that, or was this a one and done sort of deal?”

Turning to face you with an amused interest, he played just as coy. “Depends on the pretty crow’s offer.”

You however jumped right to the point. “The mines we’re here for, there’s tunnels all under the island but the easier ones to access are still mostly untouched. I have a few I know that I’ve worked my way through, but before I bring any of the others down there, I need to make sure I have everything in place so I can at the least have people get down to the main surface floor without scaling untouched walls in the dark. Would be nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing down with me.”

Tormund smirked, “Not even a challenge, between you and me, we could have those tunnels ready in a few hours we leave early enough.” You nodded appreciatively, back to looking at the winding stones some now had worked to wash the blood from. “I’d ask how early we should start tomorrow but I have a feeling it won’t be so easy convincing Snow to let you out of bed, to go spend time in a confined dark space with another man so soon.” Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he laughed. “Your fancy castle is large, but it doesn’t hide as much as you think.”

Your voice cracked as you suddenly hoped the earth would open and drop you into the sea. “I’m not sure I know what you are implying.”

Tormund leaned in, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side without care. “All the advice I’ve given him, and he didn’t even let you cum.” Perhaps you could climb to the top of Dragonmont and dive into the molten liquid if you ran fast enough. “Could join you, let me teach him by example, how to treat a woman right if he’s that fucking cruel. Show him what he’s missing out on with you.” The grin in his voice was so thick as you knew your face was flushed and mortified.

Barley finding the confidence to mumble out, “You’re getting closer and closer to me shoving you off the edge of the mine, Tormund. Right at the very top.”

There was no noise except for the echo of footsteps as they walked down the corridor. Much torchlight hung by the walls and there were enough in each heavy iron door that you knew at least he would be sitting in more then darkness. As the guards opened the door, you nodded at them pointedly. “Leave us.”

The door closing behind with a loud clang keeping you in the open space of the dungeon cell, and a thick set of metal bars adorning the second half of the room keeping him apart. Sat on the ground with one knee bend up towards him and the other splayed out on the ground, the heaviest of his armour having been taken off him and he now looked quite like an ordinary man.

His eyes met yours with a curiosity. Your voice was low and even with nothing to give away in tone or even your face. “Do you know who I am?”

His answer at least was simple in response of your name, ending with Baratheon before he paused and corrected himself with little effort in him put forth. “Or, I suppose it’s Snow isn’t it? If we are being proper, that is.”

It made sense you supposed in your mind. Jon Snow was King in the North, and you were Queen at his side and most would presume so due to marriage. But it wasn’t anything worth the effort to correct him on. You didn’t come down here to discuss Jon.

Looking at Jon Connington you could see the shorter dark orange of his hair that gave his face more youth then the lines and exhaustion blessed him otherwise. “You requested to be away from your men, may I inquire as to why?”

Glancing up at you, his own eyes narrowed trying to sense the double agenda in your question but you knew he would find none. You played no games now. He sighed deeply, looking back at the adjacent wall with a morose tone. “I led sell swords here, not an army. They aren’t too forgiving of failure, even less so with being forced to surrender. It was safer to put me and him on our own, and I knew you wouldn’t let us together.”

Giving him one nod before inhaling deeply as you looked at him now with more curiosity. “The Golden Company has never successfully taken anything in Westeros before, they will come back around from this. We out numbered you, more than you suspected we would if I am guessing correctly.”

Laughing with nothing behind it’s meaning, “That you did. Lord Varys’s little birds were wrong. About many things it seems.” You raised an eyebrow and the silence sat between until he realized this was not a back and forth. “Either he didn’t know about Stannis Baratheons army or he didn’t tell me. Also tried to spook me, saying your husband was some dead man. A walking monster stabbed in the heart. Looks perfectly fine to me.”

The walking monsters of undead nature were that of cold and ice, not flesh and blood. But the knife in the heart was all the same. “He isn’t here, Lord Varys. Why?”

Connington barley moved, “I don’t know. Left some days before tonight, had business to attend to elsewhere and said no more on it. He isn’t a man who gives away his secrets,” You agreed and it had him hesitate and turn to look up at you. “How would you know that?”

Stepping closer your posture loosened a little bit, making him relax as well. “My father and I both served on the small council for some years. Spent much time around Lord Varys, so yes my lord, I know exactly the kind of secret’s he is capable of telling. Or not telling.”

Oh the glare Connington gave you almost was enough to have you laugh. “So, how does your father being King work? He claims to be the Protector of the Realm, but his daughter and heir is married to an independent Northern King? Things sure seem to have changed since I’ve been gone.”

“By change you mean there’s more freedom to rule outside of your beloved Targaryeans?” His eyes shot over to you, and while there was no malice on your face there was something unsettling in your eyes deep if he searched hard enough. You stepped closer again. “There was only a Seven Kingdoms because those people flew in with dragons and scorched the earth and it’s people. So you can imagine I am not quite convinced on Aegon’s claim when this country is only just beginning to find footing on it’s own once again.”

Sighing deeply, Connington’s jaw clenched as he stared harshly at he wall but his voice spit out in a hiss, “So this is who rules now? The Targaryeans fought against you Baratheon’s and Starks and now you get to be the ones who are in charge?”

Your voice was non confrontational however, you didn’t come for a fight but you knew you hit a sore spot. “For the Iron Throne? It’s a three way tie currently. The Lannisters sit on the throne, my father fights for it and apparently the remaining Targaryean still alive ,wishes to come back to seek it as well.” You came close to the bars, him still a number of feet away even if you were to press right up against the cold metal. “The Starks want nothing to do with the Iron Throne. We have bigger fights in the North then for an ugly iron chair.”

That you didn’t realize, was just almost enough to get a smirk out of the man. He turned his head lazily to look up at you, “Thought you were a Snow not a Stark.”

If he was trying to be clever, you saw through it. “You and I both know that Lord Varys has told you exactly who Jon is. Who his father is.” That made him clench his jaw harder, turn away with a rigid uncomfortable look in his eyes in an instant. Crouching down to see him more at his eye level you narrowed your eyes at him. “Let's not play word games. We both are aware of who exactly you were fighting against out there.”

Connington sighed, an arm coming to rest against his knee and hold his face in his palm before flying it back down to whip his neck around to you. “Is that why you are here? To discuss Eddard Stark’s bastard son?”

If he was on edge before, he paled now as you whispered into the silent air. “I’m here to discuss his aunt. Lyanna Stark. I’m sure your familiar with the name.” He said not a word, and you felt it seep heavy into the very air you both breathed. “I am going to be perfectly honest with you, my lord. Neither me nor Jon care about Aegon’s fight for the Iron Throne. He asked one thing of you in peace and you and him all but declared war for something on this island you didn’t even know was there. I don’t care if Aegon is fighting for the Iron Throne, what I want to know is how he’s even here in the first place.” Leaning forward you lowered your voice to something a little more annoyed with him. “Do we both know what I’m referring to or do we need to refresh our memories about the end of the rebellion? And how every single person in the Seven Kingdoms assumed Aegon died as a baby when Gregor Clegane smashed his face into a wall so hard it was unrecognizable.”

That did not sit nicely on his face. At all. He swallowed had with as much horror swimming in his eyes as you always felt imagining such a monstrous act. You let him sit in the quiet for a good few minutes, and you sat patiently waiting. “He was already two when they brought him to me.” Your eyes narrowed but otherwise remained entirely impassive. “Lord Varys and this associate of his, they approached me with this whole thing. I- I didn’t even know Aegon had survived...I had no idea...but then there he was..the only thing left of him right in front of me and them pleading me to help.”

“What did they want you to do?”

“Raise him. Take care of him, help make him ready. Train him to take the Iron Throne when he’s ready and hide with him until then. As father and son. Out of everyone in the world I had thought, me, Rhaegar trusted me with his son.” Your eyes grew dark and sharp but said nothing. There was a distant affection and lightness in his voice that was so far away you knew it tinged in a present pain. “I had lost him, but I had his son. Rhaegar’s own blood trusted in my hands to raise..I don’t know why he was smuggled out..or why she wasn’t..”

Rhaenys he meant. Why what sounded like nothing more than an innocent, sweet girl was left behind to be slaughtered.

He swallowed heavily, and his voice shattered to a waver. Not once did he look at you. “I spent his whole life waiting for him to become Rhaegar. The day I would wake up and see him, in his face, his eyes, anything. But..I’m still looking. I spent Ageon’s whole life waiting to see when he would turn into his father that sometimes...I feel like I missed his life..the life he had when he was just..my son. I failed his father, and now I’m failing the son too.”

Whatever was choking him on the inside, wrapped its tendrils around your throat and squeezed until something rough was forced out. “You didn’t fail. Rhaegar was the one who failed.” Connington’s eyes met yours, and it was a sorrow you rarely saw on people. “I don’t know Aegon, I didn’t know Rhaegar, but I knew the damage he left behind. I spent half my life growing up with a family that his actions led to their deaths before the war was over, and that pain has never gone away. I saw that pain live and fester in Robert’s eyes until it was so strong it almost killed what good in him was left. Good men don’t leave pain like that behind.”

Deep blue eyes and dark curls in your mind were clear as if he were right in front of you. Robb being gone was agony, but he left no pain behind. Only the agony of loss, and the desperate love of so many who knew the truth that he was the best of so many of you. Good men are like Robb, not Rhaegar.

Connington was quiet for a long time, but never asked you to leave. A quiet solace as you both thought to men you loved and lost in your own ways, but one was tinged in more guilt then the other until it spilled over as his head fell back with a thud against the dungeon wall. “For a long time I saw him everywhere. In my head, my dreams, would pass someone with just the right shade of hair that I’d trick myself into thinking there he was. I wanted to see him in Aegon so badly, but I never could. I thought I never would again, and..it wasn’t until..I suppose now I realize that maybe I don’t actually want to see him.”

“Until what?”

He looked to you with a doubt, and then he huffed a laugh. Shrugging a shoulder in a genuine amusement as he sat there behind the metal bars. “For a good minute out there, fighting your husband felt like I was back in my prime. Sparring with Rhaegar in the training arenas, getting overwhelmed by his intensity too.”

Tilting his head to you, “Damn near spooked me. Was like looking at Rhaegar how intense he was, but..he was also far better then him. I’ll give him that, your King is a skilled swordsman like I’ve ever seen. Had all of Rhaegar’s intensity and more, and I realize now that maybe I’m relieved I’ve never seen that in Aegon. I don’t know this Jon Snow, but for your sake, I hope there’s more to him then what I saw out there beacuse otherwise?” He whistled out and your face fell flat.

Your voice however had an edge to it that cut him like steel. “And you think Rhaegar was a better man?” Rhaegar thought he was better then everyone else, and that it made him untouchable. But Jon is a better man then anyone you know anymore in your current life, but he would never think that of himself. He’s a good man because that’s who he is, not beacuse he’s trying to make everyone else think so too. Leaning forward there was a real vitriol there, “Jon’s never abandoned his wife and two young children to kidnap an innocent teenage girl at the least.”

Connington’s face paled almost sickly. “Is that why you’re down here? Mock me about what he did?”

You were honest but no less hostile even in whispers. “She was Jons aunt, his fathers own sister and everything he’s heard about what your beloved prince did to her only got worse the more he was told. But he won’t ask you about it. So I will.” You leaned in as much as you could. “Why kidnap her? She died because of him, her father and brother died trying to save her. Why take her, why keep her from her family. What did he do to her that killed her so far away from where he, himself died?”

Connington’s voice was rough and you had no sympathy. “You’ve heard the story.” Asking why he did it, he said nothing. So you asked again to more nothing. Only the third did he raise his voice. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he did it. He never said what about the girl he wanted with, just that he needed her. But he had his Kingsguard keep her locked up and no one saw her until after she was already dead. He never said what he wanted with her, never told me why. And I was exiled by Aerys before I had a chance to find out.”

Leaning back, your nails dug into your palms at the guilt on his face. “Tell me one thing. The rumours of what he did to her, were those true? Or was that just the angry ramblings from Robert without any merit?”

His silence was deafening and you felt ill. Lyanna deserved better then to have men thirty years after her death, mourn the man who kidnapped and raped her until she died alone in the Dornish sands.

You backed off from him, and your tone lightened up a bit for his sake. Already struggling to look you in the eye. “Sometime soon, Jon will offer you and Aegon a peace. But I’d think long and hard, Lord Connington. Think if the man you really want Aegon to be is Rhaegar, beacuse there is none here who is on his side. But they might be on yours. You have time still. He doesn’t have to become his father, you can let him be ready at his own pace.”

“No I can’t.” You head tilted in question. “I don’t have time. Aegon needs to be ready to take the Iron Throne now or I- he can decide who he wants to be when he’s crowned but I need to sit him on the Throne as soon as possible. I...I have to do this one thing for him. I can’t fail the father and the son both.”

Your whisper was far away, “Why? Why rush into this after spending almost thirty years leading to it?”

But he shook his head. Clearing his throat before pulling his knees both up to his chest to rest his arms over them. For a while he said no more, and it wasn’t until the tense quiet of you walking towards the heavy door did he speak up. “He looks like her.”

Your head whipped around to look at him, Connington’s face more pale once again. “Jon Snow. You said he’s Lyanna Stark’s nephew? He looks like her. Suppose he looks like Eddard Stark too, but it was like looking at a gods forsaken ghost seeing him for the first time.” He laughed to himself. “Spent thirty years trying to see Rhaegar and avoid thinking about all the horrible shit he did, and in one night I feel like he, Lyanna and Robert have all come back to haunt me between the two of you.”

In only a small voice, you knew he heard you even if he didn’t acknowledge it. “You’re the one who raised him. And you surrendered for his sake beacuse you love him, not beacuse he’s Rhaegar’s. Don’t allow Rhaegar’s shadow to get in the way of that. Aegon’s not him, and he needs you for you. Not beacuse you are waiting for him to become someone else.”

As you walked out of the dungeons, all you could see was deep blue eyes against grey eyes.

For only a moment, you let yourself sit on the steps leading back to to the main floors of the castle as the night sky loomed over. Your hand traced the scar along you, and you realized maybe you weren’t the only one making that very mistake. You had been adamant to ensure your love with Robb was about him and not the guilt of Jon, and it led to a love between you both that was more then you could’ve ever imagined for the tearfully short time you were allowed to share it.

So you couldn’t do the same in return to Jon. You would always love Robb, always love the child you almost had together, but you couldn’t only see them when you looked at Jon anymore. You always said he deserved better then what the world gave him, and that included what you had been doing up until now.

The path was less treacherous then you recalled. Recently having passed your eleventh name day, you had still been small when you did this last. Your room too, it felt smaller then you remembered, cramped and uninspired with little personality. Much of you had been taken to King’s Landing where none of it existed anymore, but hidden behind a cabinet under the rug was still your spot to have searched on Dragonstone.

The path along there felt long as a girl. Long and the loud tides were frightening as if the gods telling you to stay away but each time including the fifth now, you had to pass the fear by. There was something you had to do, one last act and this time you felt horrid it was done so late.

Hopefully not only will The Mother see your beg of reason, but Robb would understand you hated not being able to do anything sooner. Whatever gods answered you now, you needed to send his son to Robb once and for all. Robb deserved that, he deserved more then that but this was all you could do.

As you came upon the clearing however, you felt a weightless sink in your stomach that almost had you drop. What more had he let her do? Your steps were suddenly slow, a painful realization that not only could the old gods of Robb not hear you from here, but perhaps the Seven of your past could not either anymore.

The statues had always sat tall and proud on the shores, close to the sept but a worship all on their own that felt closer to the earth. Four times you had come here like this, lighting a candle in the middle of each and finally to The Mother you would light all seven before beginning.

But now, only shadows remained. Burned statues of the Seven that you could hardly recognize what even had stood as what before. Burn the false idols, that was what he had let her do. You prayed in a peace to the old gods now, but not even the sliver of your life following the Seven was allowed here now. Only her fire god, as she burned any and all for him.

Now, as you stood with the torch in your hand and wind blowing your hair around with it, you only felt the pull North more intensely. Dragonstone was slowly taking away everything that was once a home with a family. Death and destruction was left.

Your hands brushed along each statues remains, and tried to recall prayers long unspoken in your mind and hoped they would accept your only offer. You knew where The Mother stood, and for once you felt a sting behind your eyes as you approached. This time it was not brothers you lost, and not your own mother by blood that you prayed for. It was you who was the almost mother praying to let the gods forgive your unborn son and pass him to his father and find peace together.

Carefully, you stuck the torch deep into the sand in front of her, and let your hands trail over the melted insides that were left. Wind blowing your hair and cloak far and wide as you begged for any hope that someone not shrouded in fire could hear you and protect him. He was your son, and you failed him and so you needed to pass him on.

You had made your way to your old bedroom earlier, shutting the door behind you sealing you alone as you pulled out the deep blue box with ornate foxes etched into it. Four hand carved toys sat inside it, four toys for your four brothers to remember by.

You had done what you did for them, written out the blessings septon would anoint a child with as they were named under the Light of the Seven. Only this time, the house sigil was that of a direwolf, and the name you called to them at the bottom had almost been enough to make you cry. The memory of horrified blue eyes looking at you with blood soaking his hands as your final memories together.

Eddard Stark

Now the burned remains sat in a small pouch along with the dagger. Pulling it out you held both ends with a choke so high in your throat were you to let it out it would sob. But the tears fell the same. You had nothing of them, nothing of either of them. Only this.

You had nothing of Robb but a scar and a dagger. His body was desecrated. He was given no funeral rites, he would not rest beside his father in the crypts of Winterfell with a faithful direwolf to guard him.

Robbs bones were lost somewhere in the Riverlands.

You could only give him this, and the tears fell as you cared not to hide them. You had a life to find now without him, with a man you truly loved but you would never find it in you to move past this kind of pain. You would always be scarred in heart with his loss, and the son you failed to give him. But you did have to accept it.

No shatters or thunder or noises to fear came about. The Mother had seen you cry and heard you in agony for the love of your life and the son you both lost, and she was allowing you to do one final thing for them.

You like four times before, stepped out into the middle of the shores, and with no wince this time, carved the dagger deep into your palm. The blood of you, Robb and your son all dried on it and now you let it twist as much as you could needing some of all three to soak your hand as you and your sons had soaked Robbs.

Letting it sit back in it’s sheath, you gently pulled out the pouch and poured it into your bleeding hand and letting the material fly elsewhere. Hand tightening around it you let your blood together soak as this was all you had of your son. Robb and you could only give him this to send him and you needed him to find his father, that was all they had of each other.

Stepping into the watering tides, you knelt down into the ground, the water surrounding you a few inches all around. Your hand sat deep into the sand as your eyes closed, kneeling down on your calves, with both hands braced beside you. The winds and tides blew around you as you saw not the blood.

Just the memory of a moment to find any joy. The memory of how scared you had been to tell him, only for Robb to haul you up into his lap and arms, the happiest you had ever seen him and the loving press of his lips against you like you gave him the world.

Eventually, your hand opened and the remains and blood all washed into the sea. You stayed there for a good long while. Eyes open looking to the stars in the night refusing to remember the pain. Only the deep love you found with him and the dreams of a family you couldn’t give him.

You hoped this far away, Robb Stark could hear you tell him you love him. Now and always.

It was more time you had planned on being away, by the time you had made your way to the room that was to be yours for a time, Jon was already stripped down from his armour and everything. Both of you having taken the time to clean the blood and grime from you before finding the other at that point as Jon now sat perched against the ledge near the open window, slight breeze flowing through his loose curls as he was cleaning the remaining blood from Longclaw back to it’s shining state.

Grey eyes soft as they looked up, you gently pushing the door closed behind you before letting your back rest against the heavy surface. A fire softly crackled in against the wall along the rooms clearing with a soft rug covering the cold stone of the floor. It was hard to tell if it was something unsure or worried in his eyes as they looked gentle but with a furrow in his brows at the fragility you stood against the door in, as if struggling more then normal to find the words.

Calling your name, but when you didn’t respond he set Longclaw aside. Standing to make his way over to you and only on the second attempt did your eyes snap back to the present as your name sounding in your ears. He stood close, but not invading your privacy and yet that sorrow in your heart melted to something that left a bright love to bleed in your gaze. “Talk to me.”

As Jon’s hand reached up to run his fingers through the hair at the side of your face, you grabbed it instead. Pulling it, and by proxy him, closer to you as you held it more over your heart as the other free hand of yours traced over his jaw, facial hair scratching at the skin. His other came to rest at your waist, both quiet as he waited for what was behind your eyes to make their presence spoken.

When you found that, it wasn’t what he expected. “I used to think it was my fault my mother lost my brothers.” His eyes narrowed at you but you had not the strained hurt in your voice, but something more gentle and easy. “She stopped speaking to me after the first, and then the night after she lost her second my father told me I was being sent North. I thought it was a punishment.” Your hand begun to trace back and run through his curls as he watched you closely. Your own eyes not meeting his as they trailed innocently over what you could see of him from such an angle. “Used to think boys were meant to come first, and by me being the firstborn I had screwed it all up, and my mother kept losing them beacuse of me.”

The hand holding his over your heart slowly slid downwards, his eyes following intently until he led your hands and reached where the scar sat under your clothes. Letting his palm almost slide across the whole thing and his eyes never looked away from it as if he wanted to see it through the material. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Nodding, you moved both of your hands to rest along his chest close to his collarbones. “I thought I was cursed. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it. It had been so long I forgot what it ever was like to be afraid I was the reason she couldn’t have them.” Your voice lowered however, and you felt him tense drastically in your touch. “At least, I forgot until I lost my own. And then I felt like a failure. I didn’t even have one before he too was gone.”

Jon tried to move, wanting to pull you closer but your hands on his chest pushed back a little to keep him at bay. His voice low and rough trying to contain something in him. “Robb would never blame you for that. Never.”

You echoed those words, not realizing as he had said them about himself that you understood exactly what that felt like. “I thought I failed Robb, and I was terrified he would hate me for failing his son too.” Jon never moved his hand from your scar, his shoulders holding a visible weight on top of them as he stood close to you. “But I realized something tonight. That if I keep holding onto that thought, all I am doing is pushing you away with it. I’m doing exactly what you had told me not to do when I married Robb. I’m letting my pain of losing them get in the way of what I should be having with you.”

His other hand not on your scar moved to run over the back of your hair as his grey eyes were bright and conflicted as he looked into your willing ones. “I’m not asking you to choose me over Robb, I’d never ask you that. I know you two loved each other and I’ve never wanted to get in the way of that-”

It didn’t matter how quiet your voice was, it to Jon sounded as if it were a yell from above. “He said I was fine.” His eyes shot up to yours sharply. “Wolkan. He said I was fine. That..he doesn’t think I should have any reason to suspect I can’t..or that we wouldn’t be able to..”

His touch was still and his eyes were wide in almost shock. Lips parted slightly as he looked you over gently before meeting your eyes again. “He said that you can..” His hand on your scar increased the pressure and he almost could lose it at how you seemed so gentle looking up at him.

You leaned back against the door more, a relax in your posture. “I thought that if I failed to give the last King in the North an heir, I didn’t deserve to fail with the second. Thought you should’ve just moved on, made me leave and find yourself a better wife that could give you all that and more. That letting you be with me was a mistake, and you’d end up hating me for wasting your time.”

Something deep in Jon’s eyes hurt, something painful cut at him hearing such a statement that there was a redness tinting behind the grey that threatened to pool out were he to let it. In an instant he moved to cup your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours as he crowded you against the door, your hands coming to his waist. “I don’t care about if you can give me a heir, I care about you. I care about how much it would hurt you not to be able to have children, and if I was pushing you for something that was impossible..but..”

The ease in how lovingly you looked into his eyes made him choke up. And the tenderness in your voice made that all the worse. “I’m not trying to influence you one way or the other, I just..thought you ought know the option is there..should you decide you want that..”

You suspected there was a lot he wanted to say but little ability to speak them into the world. His voice still a whisper as he looked at you, but a playful small smile on his lips. “I did always think your name would sound better with Snow than Stark.” You both just laughed, for a moment before he tried inhaling shakily before speaking again. “We don’t have to plan anything right now, but,” One hand started to trace down your arm, as his eyes followed, “We could always practice.”

His eyes flickered up to you, and a weight held your voice and breathe down. Maybe keeping the tears at bay too, but you swallowed heavily. Hands on his waist tightening as you slowly nodded. Jon leaned in, hovering close to your lips before glancing up to your eyes, you nodded once more before nervously shutting them as he closed the gap himself.

Jon tried to be gentle, he truly did.

His kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of his lips to coax more from yours. Hands on the other were both light and firm enough just to keep the other in front of them, but it was the shaking in yours as they rose up the length of his chest that made him weak. His touch back up to cupping both of your cheeks as he gently let you find a slow, sweetness in the harmony, your hands continuing their journey up to dance along his neck and wrap around the back of it, almost too gently for him to handle.

Your touch when that soft and innocent, made his blood race.

He tried pulling away a few times, wanting to at least take the heavy layers off of you, but each time he was pulled right back to your lips on his own desire, kissing a little harder each instance and getting worse at pulling back every return. The hands on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly when Jon gently nibbled at your bottom lip and you tried to gasp. He would return to a soft kiss, bite your lip harder and then kiss it soothingly before biting and repeating.

Each bite you got closer to a whine at the pleasure from the stinging he gave you, and your nails unintentionally dug into the skin of his neck as you felt yourself getting lightheaded. One of his slipped behind your own neck, keeping a firm hold cupping the back of it as if to force you not to move as the other hand left your cheek as well. Blindly working away at the laces and straps keeping your light armour still attached to your upper body as if he needed no sight to know how to take it all off of you.

As soon as it was loose enough to pull off you, he let it toss down anywhere he could throw it, biting your lip harsh as he jumped to your bottom half. His tongue now soothing over the bite mark before slipping into your mouth. His invading kiss and calloused hand running along the skin by your hips undoing your pants almost impatiently had you arching a bit into the touch and a gentle whine he caught in your mouth with his greed.

Instead of shoving them down though, his rough hand slipped in between the fabric and your skin, and suddenly it was just as it was in the castle halls earlier that night. His fingertips dancing down to where you burned for him, and his own knee suddenly shoved your legs apart to once more rut in between you. The hand slid just inside only coming back up to grab what he could of your pants and roughly yanked you down onto his knee as much as he could manage, you much more freely moaning into his kiss.

The entire time, Jon refused to let your lips part from him. Refused to loosen his grip on the back of your neck and you felt more and more like it was a wolf really in front of you. A rough hold on the scruff of another wolves neck to keep them subjugated and you let him without a single thought on the matter. There were no thoughts of anything in you that wasn’t letting him do what he wanted.

Jon’s own head screamed at him over it. This was exactly the kind of thing that led to the way he took you that night in Castle Black. In your early days together, slowly exploring one another at the same pace it was never this bad. He never felt this barley in control. Yet as soon as his eyes opened once more in the body belonging to him, as soon as his mind settled and he understood the truth of what he had experienced, it started and never stopped.

Something dark and clawing in his chest begged him to keep you all for himself, and the way you melted to his touch so willingly and so naturally made that stronger. It partially scared him, having something so intense and addicted find it’s way about you. Worried that he was too much now, he would frighten you with his need for you in his life but you weren’t. You were the one in fact, scared of over staying your welcome.

That darkness was stronger then it had been in his entire previous life, and it was that same darkness that had him take you that night. Hoisted against the cold wall in his arms, Jon had slid his cock deep inside you for the first time and he knew there was no going back. Shoving you onto the ground and fucking you deep as soon as he already came once. Waking up with you bare in his arms and you had only even just tumbled out of sleep as Jon yanked you up onto his lap.

Barley opened your eyes before he roughly bounced you on his cock and him sitting up to mark your breasts up with this teeth because you gasped so beautifully in the air whenever he did. He filled you twice that morning without ever stopping how hard he fucked you onto his cock and he didn’t understand why he wanted more and more. Couldn’t understand why he suddenly was so desperate to fill you in a way that once terrified him when he was nothing more then just a bastard boy in love with a royal highborn girl.

But now? Jon was King in the North, the King his brother, his brothers people and his home all wanted and not a thing would stand in his way from keeping you with him. He was still honest about not wanting to pressure you into thinking you had to marry him, but he wanted it. Wanted you in a beautiful ivory dress, even more elaborate then the last. Pray with you in front of the Weirwood, drape his own fur over you in that beautiful ivory dress and kiss you before finding one last string of tradition in him, and hoisting you in his arms to the celebration to follow.

You could be each others and there would be nothing anyone could do to change that. Jon would never force it, or even press for it, but nothing would be in his way. And now? He thought too, nothing was standing in his way of getting you pregnant and suddenly his blood almost boiled him alive.

Hands finally having enough, you started to push up the soft material of Jon’s shirt until he got the message, pulling from you to let you take it off him, and letting it drop much more gently then he was treating your things. Looking down at you with wide eyes and lips parted as he breathed heavily, he stopped. Running his hand back down your cheek before just as gently taking everything from your top half off of you.

A shiver running over your chest as you were left with nothing covering you but Jon’s dark, greeding gaze. But he didn’t overwhelm, not now. Keeping a hand steady on your hip as you kept perched right over his knee, but his other explored your skin. Running flat along your jaw and neck thumb firm as it trailed down the middle of your neck to your collarbones before circling around to grasp at your breast.

His eyes were narrowed and his breathing heavy through his nose as he stared in silence, hand suddenly rough as he groped the plush skin he found. Thumb running over your nipple already perfect for him to grasp and twist. Grey eyes so dark they were near black as they flickered between his touch and your arching back and high pitched gasp you tried to keep low.

It only made Jon tug and twist at the small bud more roughly, and your gasp turned to a small cry before he finally moved to the other hand from your hip. Both hands rough and calloused and leaving bruises of his fingertips as sparks shot through your chest, pumping from your heart down between the legs trapped on either side of one of his. Jon leaning forward, pressing only gentle kisses down your neck. Nothing like his selfishly rough touch, only feather light presses of his lips making his way up to your ear before leaving another gentle one just below.

His lips only giving a peck before his hands came to slid everything left on you, off. Keeping everything in a tender touch until he rose back up to your level, you now bare before him.

Three fingers danced between your legs and grazed the growing wetness before trailing up to your clit with a touch that never really got committed. “Will you lay out for me? Let me taste you?” You bit your lip, still the act somehow making you nervous. It wasn’t something you even knew about until he was already doing it, and still it made you self conscious, but the need was deep in his eyes. “You’re safe with me, remember?”

That made you nod, and you let him gently move you to the soft carpet close to the fire. Still something nerve wracking in you, realizing you had no idea how to make yourself look alluring like this. Gently kneeling down on your calves with your hands in weak fists sat in your lap as if anything else would look like you were trying too hard. Jon however, just exhaled deeply as he looked back at you.

Grabbing your hands with both of his larger ones before leaning close, placing them along his shoulders around the back of his neck until you continued the path yourself, fingertips running what you could reach of his curls. Moving next to guide you to lay out for him, your knees somewhat bent with feet flat on the soft carpet as Jon settled partially above you.

Instead of moving you more, Jon leaned down and kissed you again. A soft brush of lips that this time never picked up, one of his hands running along your hair splayed out under you as he pulled away, after giving one final small kiss. Nothing else was spoken in the air as he moved down your neck, kissing a path just as soft and just as gentle the whole way.

Your hands slipping to his shoulders the lower he kissed, your chest already with a slight heave as your breathing picked up, but he never let up. Never let his lips press anywhere but gently along your skin. A muttering against you when he had to reach up, and direct a hand into his hair, mumbling into his path, “Keep that there.” You nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

The lower he got the more your nerves and heart raced, unsure as to why it made you so nervous but it also was something you simply never knew existed before him. Much of what you had always discovered with Jon made you nervous. He paused as he got to your scar, and just as you had his, kissed a path all the way down it and further.

Shifting to lay between your legs, Jon confidently draped your thighs over his shoulders, once more grasping your hips as he kissed along your upper thighs. Moving your hips slightly up closer to him, you felt the gentle brush of his tongue along your clit, enough to have you gasp. Would have jumped too were his hold not keeping you so strongly tethered right where he wanted.

Small, gentle licks along your clit that had your core awaken suddenly. Just a tender touch, working you up at the sensitive spot with only his tongue until he felt your thighs around him begin to shake, only then did Jon finally run his tongue flat over it much more soaking. Sucking your clit before just barely grazing his teeth over it as you tried again to jump at the spark of pleasure but he kept you in place.

Jon refused to let his mouth trail his mouth anywhere else, licking and sucking your clit with hands holding your hips tight until you felt that build up inside of you. Almost bracing yourself, knowing he was going to take it away again, you tried holding it off. Tried keeping it at bay as your free hand curled into a fist and biting your lip, but the pressure inside refused to stop.

But just as you felt the weakness, just as you felt inside tightening, Jon instead moved to grab at your upper thighs, and pushed them far. The instant you were sure he was going to pull away though, Jon moved to lick right down your folds with a deep hunger. A loud cry left your mouth as the second that feeling snapped, Jon used that hold to yank you into his mouth more. Tongue tasting every bit of wetness you were gracing him with before trailing back to your clit and down again.

Legs shaking and your breathing airy as your orgasm ripped through you but he didn’t pull back, only held you close. His tongue making his way deep inside of you, and your cries were loud and free by then. Unable to stop, as your hand curled into his hair with a beg of his name which meant no other words.

Jon grunted into your cunt, licking and tasting you with greed at the feeling and sounds you made above him. Hands pushing your thighs wide and off his shoulders, and instead as he run his tongue against something sharp and sensitive inside of you, his hands slid down your thighs to pull you again closer. Not realizing you had arched away from him the more your head fogged with pleasure rolling around your veins. Hands almost grasping now tightly at your ass, fingertips leaving deep bruises already as his mouth drank from you with his own need.

His own sounds vibrating through you and up leaving as cries from your mouth. Soaking his tongue and yet Jon didn’t back away for a second, his own need refusing to let go of you as suddenly that wave of pleasure shocked. Back arching for him, as your hand tightened in his hair. The sensation causing Jon to growl into you and his hands on your ass holding tighter as your orgasm rippled through you, babbling need saying words you heard not in the snapping pleasure burning your insides.

Perhaps it was so close to your second that it made it simple, but Jon so quickly drew a third. Not letting himself simmer down to a gentle coaxing as he started, instead keeping the desperation in how deep he tasted inside of you and how much he drank everything you soaked him with. You almost rolled right into a third as you begged this time, “Please- I can’t, don’t..” Nothing was close to a sentence and Jon didn't stop until he could will himself to leave by force.

Your eyes stung as it almost was too much between you did Jon kiss a path to your clit, and instead of marking his way back up, he all but leaped to your eye level. Pulling you in by the back of your hair as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Making you taste what he was addicted too as his covered cock rutted into your soaking bare cunt. His hands held your waist as he rolled more into you with intention, breathing growing heavy and the second he pulled away from your lips a snarl almost formed on his face before he bit your lips into another rough, deep kiss.

Your hands attempted to reach down, but a soon as you got to his pants, Jon leaned up again. Saliva still pulled from both your panting, swollen mouths and now yours was as shined with wetness as he was giving you the mess you let him drink from. Eyes black as he watched you, taking over for your hands and pulling the last of his own clothes off. Trailing down to look at you, yours shyly looked down to him.

Hard and thick, slightly red with need and his own seed already leaking as he looked at you. Pulling your legs wide as he moved back to you. His cock brushing against your soaked folds had him shudder and you whine, hands at his shoulders. Eyes still on you, his voice was strained, accent strong as he rasped down at you, “No matter what happens,” One hand drifting to your scar as your eyes stung, “We’re family now, we’re together.”

You swallowed, nodding yes before Jon kissed you gently. But the kiss was a distraction.

The pressure as his cock slid inside of you, your nails dug deep into his shoulders and Jon kissed you harsher. One slow, gentle glide inside of you and he slid as deep as your cunt could let him go. Stretched thick around him you burned and cried, tears coming from your closed eyes. Hands running through his hair, Jon kept your lips on his too.

He was slow about it, savouring every inch of you around him so warm and tight, your own walls being pressed against as you wanted to cry at the pleasure it stabbed you with each inch. His cock slid in and out smoothly, you utterly soaking around him as Jon would pull out almost just to the tip before just as slowly, sliding right back. Making you feel every moment of his cock filling every inch of you, his tongue brushing into your mouth as he did so, and the gentleness matched.

Your lungs were no more as he fucked you slow. Every gasp you tried to have, Jon would steal it with his kiss and refuse you any air that he didn’t give you. He wanted everything you were to be at his mercy, trust him to keep you right where you were and you did. Legs falling wide around his hips, the coil inside of you twisted and cracked as you held his kiss even closer with your hands raked deep in his curls.

His hands on your hips kept you in place, making every thrust of his cock had you shake, but the pace so you were to feel every second as you clenched so tightly around him. By the time he drew another orgasm out of you, you had tears genuinely at how overwhelmed you felt with his slow pace inside of you.

But then he pulled from your lips, looking down to watch his length disappear into your soaking cunt, Jon didn’t notice his hands on your hips grew tight the longer he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Teeth gritting, he started only to realize how much you were scratching at his insides when you cried his name out. “Jon- fuck, please, gods, please, you feel so good,”

Then, Jon picked up. Not the speed, still mostly just as slow but his hips suddenly skipping past a gentle increase and moving right to a hard, rough thrust inside of you. Looking up to your closed eyes as your back arched, hands now splayed in the carpet around your sweating hair. Jon fucked you rougher, stuck hovering over watching you. Each slam of his hips making the sounds between you slap, a rough smacking of skin that had him growling and holding your hips in place. As if he needed to control just how rough he fucked you at all times.

He had once dreamed of being kind and gentle with you in such a manner, but now he could see your overwhelmed pleasure, watching how well your soaking cunt let him pound deep inside like he was destined to fit with you, and the obscene sounds of his skin against yours and how wet you were every thrust. Part of him still wanted to be gentle, but something else that had only awakened when he came back, made him feel like he was a wolf destined to take his mate.

“I hate every second I’m not with you.” His accent so strong you could barley hear its low rasp through the rough slap of each time he pounded inside you. A hand coming to press right beside your head as he looked down at you, almost speaking in tandem with every pound of his cock. “Hate every second I’m not inside you, not filling you fuck after fuck. That’s all I can think about, should lock you in our bedroom in Winterfell, keep you tied to my bed and never leave. Do nothing the rest of our lives but fill you deep with my seed,”

His head dropped as he hissed, trying to control himself but the roughness was going to leave you good and sore and it made you beg for more in yielding. “I- anything, fuck Jon I’ll do whatever you want, you’re so good..” Pulling you up by the back of your head to meet his lips in a rough kiss, Jon thrusted only a few more rough times into your cunt before he shook above you with a groan into your lips.

Cum unusually warm as he spilled inside of you, and thick as he spread your legs as wide as they could go on the ground beside you as he kept going. It was a lot of thick, very warm cum and he bit your lips with every heaving breathe or snarl inside him at the feeling of you so deeply taking him, and keeping all he spilled inside of you.

He wasn’t done, almost as if it made him harder. Grinding deep inside you did you cum before he was even done though, coating his cock in your wetness and forced to take his cum deep as you cried his name. But Jon, only got rougher. Fucking into you with pounding slaps that would have echoed through the castle halls by that point, any passing close by would be able to hear the slap of skin from the ground, or even the sea.

Burying your face in his neck as your hands wrapped around and into his curls, Jon almost pulled you closer, pressing your bodies as close as he could as he pounded into you. You didn’t know if keeping each one slow was meant as torture or not. Because you couldn’t tell if you needed him to go faster, or you might cry and beg for him to slow down if he changed his pace at all. Your voice was breathless and muffled in his neck, “I love you, fuck, Jon I love you so much,”

As possessed as Jon felt, the almost tearful genuity in your voice made him bury his face in your hair, hands tight holding you to him.

“You, gods- fuck, you deserve better, better then this, better then me.” Jon tried to protest, begging you not to say that but you clenched tightly around him and made him groan just as loudly into you as he fucked you. “Tell me what to do, please, fuck tell me what to do for you. I want to give you anything-everything, tell me what to give you to let me stay.”

If he wanted to cry before, Jon certainly did now. His cock screaming to cum deep in you again, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours were music if he’d ever heard it but you had begged him. Hand running along the back of your hair, Jon mumbled into your ear, voice wavered and shuddering with his own breathless desire. “Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,”

He knew he felt tears hiding in his neck, but he also felt you orgasm around his cock and he yanked your watering eyes to kiss you. Keeping you pressed to his lips, only pulling back to brush against them as you were jostled hard under him, asking as if he hadn't already. “Can I fill you? Will you let me spill inside you?” Nodding yes, he kissed you with a biting sloppiness to it before pulling back as his muscles strained the closer he got and the more your orgasm shocked around him like a sparking fire. He was barley comprehensible, so close to his own orgasm he slurred against your lips. “Fuck, fill you with my seed, fill you with a son. Give you my son..”

His hips left their rough, slower pace, as Jon lost all control. Fucking fast into you, the slapping pounds turned to obscene speed and smacking as he roughly kissed you, your hands tight in his hair. Jon sped towards filling you once more, and you managed to pull away enough, voice high pitched and crying in loving need, “Anything, Jon, anything you want, I promise.”

That time, your final, sudden and flooding orgasm snapped in your veins with an almost painful wave of pleasure, as Jon shook against you, and thrusted deep inside you, and you felt his thick cum spill inside of you. Cum almost as warm as the fire burning hot next to you, sweat covering both of you.

Jon cupped the sides of your face, and you did his. Both knew there was something not normal about how blindly desperate you both felt for the other when he was inside you, but neither were sure anymore if either of you wanted it any other way.

You hadn’t been in this room in a very long time, many years. The painted table was a long wooden table that was constructed to map out all the known lands of Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, and raised and lowered depending on the structure of the lands, all painted in accordance to how such an area around it looked.

Just by walking in you could tell what the pieces came from, your father’s own collection as opposed to whatever Aegon and Connington brought. Planned out acts still set partially to what you now knew were your fathers own organizing.

While it had been years since you had stepped foot in the room, it wasn’t unusual when you were on Dragonstone to appear in here. In only a few hours the sun would begin to rise from across the Narrow Sea, and yet you found your mind too worked up to sleep any longer.

You had woken up with a panic, a gasp for air as you came close to jostling Jon from his peaceful sleep, from the force it awoke you with. The dreams had gotten out of control. Dreams of fire, and wolves and roars that you couldn’t identify had finally bled into something that you didn’t understand but found to be compelled to.

This time, the green fire exploding from the torches in the Winterfell crypts were not followed by a burning flame roaring across the ceiling. Instead this time the direwolf which jumped from the statue of Ned Stark had ran behind you, and when you turned around you were standing deep within the sandy lands of Dorne. Sun blazing above and a tower standing tall in the distance with the red mountains looming in the background of it.

A direwolf stood with many at his back. A small lizard short to the ground, what looked like ten small wolves at their backs, a black horse with a bright red main and scattered across the lands like rubble were two crossed long axe’s with dark black handles, a silver gauntlet curled to a fist, and three buckets scattered and all but the wolf and lizard were coated in blood.

Standing across from them was a cluster of nine black bats all flying to hide the sight of a white tower crowned with grey smoke and burning flames as a lilac falling star crossed it, the tail almost in the shape of a white sword but just as the star fell across the morning so did everything but the Dornish tower behind it all, and a bloody direwolf and lizard.

The tower however, begun to bleed as well. The wolf on the bed in the crypt had melted into the sheets and painted it with the red and blues of it’s fur and the tower begun to bleed such colours as well and suddenly as you looked around to any, the animals were gone.

The closer you stepped to the tower, the more you heard a high pitch of crying. Something that was not an animal but also sounded too young to even be an adult, it sounded that of a baby until the crying morphed into the tiny growls of a young sounding wolf. Little growls and howls came from the tower as it continued to bleed.

You took only a step forward more, and the tower had enough of your watchful eyes. From the ground it was ripped from the sands, and in it’s place roared that which followed fire. From the place which the tower had stood, came out a great dragon in it’s place flying high in the air swirling the lands with it’s fire. It’s scales burned your eyes with a pure white colour as it’s own eyes and flames from it’s mouth shined that like blood. But the roar it gave out was not one you imagined of a dragon.

The white scaled dragon had flown to the top of the red mountains, perched high and what was supposed to be a roar, was a mighty growl of a wolf. A powerful growl that sounded like one’s you’ve heard on many direwolves now before.

And just in the seconds before you had been startled awake, a gentle, dainty hand grasped at your shoulder covered in blood. When you turned, the figure was nothing more then a mist as if covered in vines of blue roses wrapping around your limbs. Just as the cold, blue roses came to wrap around your throat, the dragon behind roared like a wolf’s growl and a gentle, desperate voice of a young woman came to you from above.

“Promise me, Ned.”

You had startled awake, at that point and now found yourself here. In the room your sleepless nights on the island commonly found their way too. Walking to the side of it, your eyes narrowed as you spotted something tossed on it’s side carelessly.

Reaching forward you grasped the wooden figurine and found it that of a dragon. Walking to the main seat you had many years watched your father sit at, you sat down gently. Leaning your forearms on the painted table, your hands held the wooden dragon with sharp eyes watching as you turned it in your hands.

The dream was that of many you had before it, and your mind swirled without your permission to put it together of what you were being shown. Only, it wasn’t just the dream it connected too. It was the words of an intensity seen, it was the sight of a ghost. Your mind raced and flew words and images around in your head all staring at that dragon figure.

When it connected, you didn’t know why. But it all screamed and cycled together into a blend coming into a painted image that was clear as day and suddenly your entire body felt as if it had fallen fifty feet in place. A shocking jolt in your mind and a twisting in your heart.

Your face morphed from that of a squinting thought, to a wide shock. Mouth slowly opening agape as your eyes widened in a sight only you were seeing in your clues. Many secrets scattered across the lands of Westeros, but your dreams had led you right to the heart of a secret none knew even existed.

None perhaps, but one. One who went to the grave without telling a soul and you felt something faint inside you, realizing, now the other person who knew this secret, just might be you, and it shocked your heart into a stunned quiet until the sun rose in the outside behind you. Your hands had dropped the wooden figurine.

The only dragon on the painted table, and you had dropped it right at the Prince’s Pass, as the wooden figurine fell, it cracked right down the middle.

Splitting the dragon into two even halves, in the sands of Dorne.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones imagine

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

Text

Wrap Around Pt.2

Pairing(s): Oberyn Martell x Martell!Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Warnings: siblingxsibling implied, longing, inappropriate behavior but nothing too nsfw, no p in v, no touching

Words: 1607

Summary: You and Oberyn stargaze as his lovers sleep in his bed next door.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE WARNINGS/TAGS

Nights in Dorne varied from freezing to uncomfortably warm. All these years growing up in the desert land, you still found yourself victim to the night heat that had you tossing and turning. Perspiration accumulated on every inch of your body. Your bed, once a spot of relaxation and comfort, has become a humid swamp. Even laying naked offered no relief. Skin simply too warm and having had enough, you sit up and swing your feet to the cool tile of your chambers. Enough to make you sigh in gratitude. Toes spread to fully embrace the fresh sensation. All too soon the red tiles beneath you become lukewarm, there was no way you were getting any more sleep. You wondered if your brother was suffering as well.

“We shall suffer together.”You muse to yourself as you go to search for a lightweight robe to drape over yourself.

The halls of Sunspear were void of noise, quiet as a Westerosi sept. It didn’t feel right to you. There was always life during down, people going about their business and talking amongst one another. Fluttering in and out.

In fondness, you run your hand along the crafted walls that were cut off by towering pillars. Lightly scraping your nails, you could practically hear young Oberyn’s boisterous laugh.

Guards that had the misfortune of patrolling so lage are used to your nightly wanders. The older ones could easily recount you doing it since the sweet age of six. They always knew where you were going. The destination had never changed.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” A crooked grin on his face should always be mistrusted. Moving aside, Oberyn welcomes you into his room. He too was down to the bare minimum of clothing articles. Scars that each told of a story were printed on his chest. You admired for a moment the strong bridge of his naked collarbone.

Despite there being little light, you peer off to where his bed was positioned. There nestled in a thin sheet were two figures. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Never.” Reassuring you, Oberyn leads you out to his balcony that faces the dead black sea. Oberyn motions for you to take a seat in the wicker chair across from him. It had always been your seat. Like many items in the palace, the chairs had been crafted by Dorne’s finest. The cushions were made from fabric imported from Essos. No matter how long you sit on it, they never lose their softness.

While Oberyn pours the both of you a glass of wine, he tells you “When you were gone, I would come out here every night and just stare at the distant water.”

You knew your departure had been tough on your brother. It had been equally difficult for you as well. Casually taking a sip, your taste buds burst.

He shakes his head free of the past and pushes his chair next to you. It didn’t matter. The two of you were together once more.

Not even the heat could bother you now.

With Oberyn you stargaze and reminisce under the protective blanket of night. The stars in the sky could easily outnumber the population of Dorne; perhaps even Westeros.

Elia had loved nothing more than to gaze up at the bright, celestial beings. When she wasn't scolding you and calling you her “little savage”, she would hold you in her arms as she pointed out the different grouping of stars. Each had their own legends and Elia told you almost all of them. A wonderful story-teller, sometimes that wasn’t enough to stop you from acting like a hellion. The only one who could really go toe-to-toe with you was Oberyn. He had been just as wild. When he wasn't keeping you in line, Oberyn was right next to you causing endless mayhem that had your elder sibling rubbing their temples.

When you brought up your childhood antics, Oberyn laughs and reaches for your hand that was holding your wine. “Do you remember when you got this scar?” Gently Oberyn uncurls your pinky from the glass stem. Running like a river across your pink was a deep scar that was almost a decade old.

You grin. It was from when you had begged Doran to get someone to teach you how to use a sword. He refused. You had been fully prepared for this rejection. Having never been a child to easily concede defeat, you had a plan up your sleeve.

As part of your demonstration as to why you needed a teacher, you “borrowed” Oberyn’s sword and accidentally nearly sliced your entire pinky off. The pain lasted only seconds for you. Doran relented and agreed to get you a teacher. He also sent you to bed that night without any dinner and forbade anyone from giving you anything that would dull the pain in your pinky. Oberyn, loving you more than he feared his brother’s wrath, would not have you go hungry. Once Doran took his medication to put him into a deep sleep, Oberyn stole into your room and fed you.

“You always contradicted whatever command Doran gave.” Draining another glass, you’re content enough with the buzzing in your head. Your back slumped against the chair.

“Only when it came to you.”

Warm fingers brush against your naked shoulder as your robe had slid down an inch.

From the day you were born, Oberyn had spoiled you with his affection; giving you whatever your heart desired. Even now you knew if you were to ask Oberyn to bring you an enemy’s head, he would gladly hand it over on a gold platter for you.

Sadly you think for a moment how no man could every compare to your brother. It wasn’t fair.

An easy silence rolls over like a sigh. Noticing how your spirits were depleting, Oberyn silently refills your cup. After having traveled throughout Essos, the nights in Dorne still could not be beat. Especially with your brother beside you. The heat no longer bothered you, a different kind of warmth was engulfing you quickly.

When you shifted your arm up to push away a wild strand of your hair, you felt your robes loosen around your chest and the slow descent of your left sleeve off your shoulder. Wantonly your cleavage reveals itself. Long lashes cast shadows over. Oberyn’s beautifully molded lips are parted and it takes the self control of a septa to prevent yourself from kissing him.

It wasn’t right.

Not with Oberyn.

But your body craved him like he was your only salvation. What had you done in your previous life to deserve such cruel inflictions?

You had made the resolve a few years ago that you would never cross the line with Oberyn.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t toe the line and test the waters.

He understood this too and would always respect the boundaries you had set.

Bravely tucking at the edge of your robe, you show a little more of the expanse of your chest. The dip of your collar bone, running down to your breasts. His hand twitches in response with the desire to cup your tit.

You dared to look at him and the vibrant shade of want overcame his cheeks. “If you could touch me, what would you do?”

Oh. What wouldn’t he do?

Oberyn grins, aware of the games you enjoyed playing. He runs his fingers along your jawline before leaning close to your ear.

You close your eyes as he describes how he would toy with your nipples first. Squeezing them softly between his index finger and thumb before taking it into his mouth to suck gently.

You squeezed your thighs tightly together.

“And I can assure you my touches will be slow and torturous.” He nuzzles the side of your face. So close to your lips. If only you had more courage. “For if I were ever allowed to touch you, I will take my time to savor every inch.”

Thankfully he also knew when you were at your limit. Oberyn leans back into his chair, trying to dismiss his own afflictions. After a sip of wine, he is ready once more; back to his sultry, teasing ways. “And if you could touch me, what would you do?”

Cheekily smiling at him, you lower your eyes in a coy deploy and open your mouth to reply. The groggy body of one of his lovers sitting up in bed behind him made you shut up.

Having watched the abrupt drop of your face, Oberyn turns around. Only taking you seconds to cover your chest and readjust your clothes, you squint into the darkness.

“(y/n)?” Ellaria calls out in a sleep muffled voice. “Is that you?”

You breathed more easily and stood up alongside Oberyn. “Sorry for waking you. I was just about to go back to bed.” Setting down your wine glass you realised the insides of your thighs were wet.

Hastily passing by the bed and a quick kiss to Ellaria’s cheek, you bid them both a good night.

Had things gone too far? It worried you during your scurry back to the safe haven of your room. Tucked behind your door, you let yourself fall onto your bed. The racing of your heart drummed in your ears.

So close.

He had been so close to you. You could easily see the fine points of his eyelashes. Ingraining his full, heart-shaped lips into your memory.

Achingly slow, you run your hand down your neck and past your robes; descending further down until. . .

You close your eyes and moan, replaying Oberyn’s words.

-----------

Taglist:

@hoziersfairy

@rosaliedepp

@iiconicxpersona

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iona-xiv · 9 months ago

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— B A S I C S

Name: Iona Edelweiss

Nicknames: Little Sparrow, Edelweiss, Rabbit.

Age: 30+

Nameday: 13th Sun of First Umbral Moon

Race: Viera, Veena

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bicurious

Profession: Retired Dancer, Adventurer, Barkeeper

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Chocolate brown hair, natural hair color is white

Eyes: Light Violet

Skin: Fair skin

Tattoos/scars: a few scars from martial arts training but nothing to write home about.

— F A M I L Y

Parents: unknown, but believes they are dead - has an adoptive father whose whereabouts are unknown as well.

Siblings: No siblings that she's aware of.

Grandparents: None that she's aware of

In-laws and Other: She's in a complicated situation with her estranged husband, who's been missing in action for a while. She's torn between waiting for her husband and embracing the Pirate who's managed to mend a piece of her heart. Juggling between waiting for his return and exploring this unexpected new connection. She's caught amid tangled emotions. (lol I got carried away)

Pets: not really her pet but a small sparrow that appears once in a while.

— S K I L L S

Abilities: Dance, Martial arts, Mixing drinks, making people feel comfortable.

Hobbies: performing morning callisthenics, crafting new drink recipes, shopping.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: open-minded, imaginative and creative, empathetic and compassionate towards others, energetic and enthusiastic.

Most Negative Trait: restless and quick to feel dissatisfied, can get emotionally overwhelmed, impulsive.

— L I K E S

Colors: Hunter Green, Jet Black, Pearl White, Dalamud Red, Gloom Purple

Smells: Vanilla, crisp air of the forest, Rain, Fresh bread, and sea air

Textures: smooth, soft, slick and fuzzy

Drinks: Gridanian and Coerthas Coffees, Doman Tea, Ishgardian Mulled Wine

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: No, but doesn't mind if others do it around her.

Drinks: Yes, she is a social drinker and can be an emotional drinker (It's a rare happening when she feels she is in the depths of despair and needs an escape)

Drugs: Has had no reason to want to try or do any.

Mount Issuance: She prefers to walk, but It would be her Chocobo - Melonge

Been Arrested: Yes but escaped before booking

------------------ Thanks for the tag! @ardberts (I've been wanting to do an updated one of these!) Tag your it! @onburdenedwings, @zanse-the-gunner @candideangel @hydaelynshimbos @ciel-xiv @sparto @sie-sharp @peacock-mooncat @aethericfist @eorzeanflowers @uldahstreetrat @starforger @nyxvaledoeswriting @vazaymir @glendurgrodar @alixennial @kyrie-kahkol @sunneflower @notarchonzachlol

Sorry if you've been tagged :O and if anyone sees this and is inspired to try please do so tag me :D I'd love to learn more about your character/s!

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #iona #viera #veena #ffxiv oc #ffxivmeme

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whoishotteranimepolls · 1 day ago

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Fandom Observation Funny tags: One Piece The Emperors & Crew

Due to character limits, the funny tags post has had to be broken up into multiple parts

This part contains the tags for the Red Hair Whitebeard, Blackbeard, Big Mom, and Beast Pirates. Plus Cross Guild. Enjoy because you guys really outdid yourself

The Red Hair Pirates

Benn Beckman: "Dilf," "retirement blorbo", "Benn Beckman is a religious experience", "to me? beckman is the character with the most sex appeal ever. raw sex appeal. I would [redacted] if I met this man. just sayin", "He can ruin my life any day of the week", "Also lest we forget pre TS Beck a++ quality right there I just want someone smart who will also hit a guy with a gun is that so much to ask for", "This p**** wants what she wants and its always going to be Benn “back breaker" Beckman", husband material, "men are like wine in order to get a good vintage you want the one that's aged", he had that sexy blind and reckless loyalty about him", "Beckman is a fine aged vintage of wine as men should be", "DEAR GOD the things I WOULD DO to that man LIKE [redacted] and [redacted] because [redacted] and [redacted]", "idk how to explain it but he's so wife", "benn beckman? more like benn breastman ok sorry yeah anyways. said it before and ill say it again beckman exudes raw sex appeal like jesus christ. why would you not want to fuck this man ive had lesbian friends who said he would be an exception to them which is so real his tits are big he loves his captain he STUBBED HIS CIGARETTE IN A MAN'S EYE UNDER THE GUISE OF DEFENDING HIS CAPTAIN so fucking sexy mwah mwah beckman my wife you are so hot SO HOT. in conclusion benn breastman you will forever be a top sexyguy in my head oh also forgot to add. he canonically gets bitches which is so real. he could get me any day", "Oh dear I just realised I have a thing for older men with grey hair and have substance abuse issues I choose to believe lung cancer does not exist in opu", "Live action Benn looks like that one uncle no one wants to invite to the family reunion but has to anyway because the grandparents insisted” “Benn Fine Fucking Vintage Beckman cannot believe OPLA boxed that fine ass wine what were they thinking I'd happily spend hundreds of dollars for Becky but no they had to pawn him off as a cheap $20 boxed wine probably powdered and needs to be reconstituted yes i am that bitter this was the only bad casting call they had in S1 never forgive never forget” “I honestly loved that they made beckman just some guy you could pass on the street and not look twice at in the live action but… he's definitely not hot” “really I think mid-40s is the sweet spot for Beckman#hair is kinda salt-and-peppery; not quite black but not quite silver I cast my vote for pre-ts bc I didn't think he'd get enough votes and I like the way he looks” “I bet he's hiding a Special kind of Sea King in his pants too” “DAMN RIGHT ! my man is PACKING !” “ He should demand child support from Rayleigh because if it weren't for him, Shanks probably would have ended up dead of his drunken stupidity a long time ago under his watch. He only lost one arm, and that's because Shanks ran off by himself and was left unsupervised for 5 minutes. That's not Benn's fault.” “

Shanks: Margaritaville Himbo, "Dilflicious", "the deadbeat malewife wifi user", "I am a whole lesbian but if there were a butch girl version of these men I would let shanks ruin my life", "favorite guy in the local frat" He's probably a walking STD risk but he's hot and I'm a slut that has a thing for red heads, "the unwashed bitch", "LOOK AT THAT SCRUFF ON SHANKS the three scars on his face that smile", "my Scrungle drunk bastard", I would volunteer to be his next baby mama you know shanks got a few a dozen red haired children all over the grand line tell me I'm wrong" “early shanks is perfect in my heart he's a rapscallion!!! he looks like he giggles,” “Post Time Skip Shanks is a daddy Live action shanks feels like a goofy dad/uncle,” “ In sorry but shanks looks like markiplier” “sorry shanks your ex husbands winning this one” “I think Shank's actor is WAY hotter as a brunette” “seriously though la shanks looks like a wet rat even more than his anime counter part” “I'm voting shanks he's just so… what a dream of a man. you know?” “shanks can’t be hot his good looks don’t make up for his personality” “shanks because he would make a good dad had his ass been able to keep kids” “Shanks having the least amount of votes is actually breaking my heart it's okay Shanks I love you” “confession i lowkey dislike shanks MOTHING AGAINST HIM PERSONALLY but like the fandom treatment of him he is EVERYWHERE and does NOTHING until the wano flashbacks (his most screentime untill egghead) i did not care about him sorry” “heh lol eat dirt Shanks (this user has nothing against Shanks except that he's always beating her faves)” “shanks sweep! idk anything about one piece other than i want to fuck him probably other stuff too” “why is shanks winning. basic ass website” “still going feral over shanks” “how many times must shanks make that cheap copy bite the dust” “after this weeks episode my hot for Shanks is at an all time high sooooo👀👀one arm daddy wins this time” “dejectedly picks shanks because at the end of the day i am a fag with problems i like my men horribly unwell” “He's the biggest fuckboy to ever whore about the grand line” “Shanks got absolutely everything from Rayleigh. Swordsmanship, haki mastery, a knack for epic entrances, ugly pants, bisexuality, and a slutty, slutty lifestyle across the Grand Line. Sorry to Roger, but the kid clearly took after the other father.” “'m shocked Beckman hasn't put that boy on a leash yet oh im damn sure beck has put that guy on a leash ifykwim” “Some of us are just complete sluts, and we're totally okay with that. I'm fully self-aware, and I totally would volunteer to be Shanks's baby mama. People have been talking about the implications of devil fruits in the bedroom. I want to know if Haki has bedroom misuses.” “I would volunteer to be the maid, especially if it comes with a cute slutty maid outfit. I bet Shanks would go feral for that, and again, I'm self-aware that I'm a total ho. Plus, I wouldn't care as long as I'm getting railed by the Daddy Emperor of the Sea every night” “Dorky Shanks my beloved” “HE CANONICALLY GETS BITCHES i genuinely think only cavendish has been shown to get a bigger amount of groupies (female that is) (sanji got the whole of the g5 but thats another story) anyway my point is shanks is the most fuckable one piece character and has been since day one he was raised by silvers fucking rayleigh what else could he have turned out to be” “least my failman Shanks came in second” “

Yasopp: “VOTE AGAINST YASOPP PLEASE cause that man deserves nothing... >_> if yasopp has no haters im dead”

Cross Guild

Buggy: Assigned clown at birth, walking disaster, "my pathetic sniveling wet clown", my Beloved, "he has blue hair and pronouns", Failboy, "the skrunkly clown", "my clown wife", "he has that fail boy cringe", "buggy has the stronger levels of foolishness and fumbling his way to success", "the cringefail clown extraordinaire buggy", "he is silly and pathetic like a bisexual divorced dad",“WHY? WHY ISN'T HE WINNING? nobody here understands anything” “ know the op poll guidelines say to be kind and now belittle others for their opinions but fucking seriously ARE Y'ALL BLIND y'all have no taste none whatsoever i am ashamed and appalled vote for buggy god damnit VOTE FOR THE CLOWN the VERY HOT IRRESISTIBLE BABY GIRL CLOWN” “buggy is prettier if that makes sense#look at those lashes!” “yall dont get buggy like i do i fear” “live action buggy is succhhh a freak hes so incredibly hot its almost distracting from his greatness” “voted live action but goddamn did impel down buggy make me confused it's the scruff and the gorgeous ponytail” “YEEEEESSS buggy the clown ImpelDown!Buggy HOTTEST BUGGY yes yes yes FUCK YEAH impel down buggy i wanna manhandle that stupid disillusioned cruel manaiacal idealist clown by his beautiful ponytail i would ruin that stupid clown your honor i love him” “Out the way flame boy I’m bout to get that clown cock” “watched 4 whole episodes of one piece for buggy” “BUUGGGGYYY sorry he makes me feral” “Buggy was robbed.” “Ok so Buggy is a wet pathetic loser who fails upwards and somehow gets exactly what he wants in the worst way possible” “He came the closest to killing Luffy before Kaido. He has so much negative rizz it circled around to most eligible bachelor. Crocodile and Mohawk use him as a punching bag. He's Shanks's The One That Got Away” “Oh and he can detach his dick (and hands, and head, and tongue…)” “i dont go here but why does everyone wanna fuck the clown i dont understand l” “where are my clownfuckers at buggy is hot as hell don’t let society tell you otherwise he is literally THE sexy gender-nonconforming loser with blue hair and pronouns” “

Crocodile: desert daddy, Babygirl, "He's like if tony soprano was trans", crocodaddy, crocomommy, Big titty mob boss, He's 8ft tall and I would let he ruin me,"Mr. Sandman", "the human sandcastle," "literally has sand in his britches", "son of a beach", "World's Most Expensive Sand Sculpture", "he's got 99 problems and his hook is one of them", "casino blorbo", "I would subject myself to sandburn any day for THE SIR FUCKING CROCODILE Anakin Skywalker don't go here because I WOULD love sand if it was like 8 feet tall and had a voice like that absolutely rabid he could stick his sand in so many places and I'd thank him crocodile is one of those guys i wanted to hate so bad and then went actually no i want this guy carnally Crocodile has some weird rizz goin on and i need to climb that sandcastle", "I'm so sorry but I need to eat crocodile's pussy", "With Sir Crocodile you can have Sex on the Beach. Literally. Plus he owns a casino so you could probably sip on the cocktail version too...while getting some cocktail.", "mafia vibes and style", "crocodile's got style. class. you will be wined and dined in the most exquisite way you can imagine", "He's got DADDY vibes", " One handsome mafia boss", "I love crocodile but also i wanna punch him and i feel like hes got the sandiest pussy/dick that shit will give me a rash", "my evilest baby boy", "Crocodile invented evil trans swag just saying", "im sorry az but crocodile was my dilf awakening", "in Crocodilf we trust", “i want crocodile to put that out on me” “those rings on his big fingers are the icing on the sandy cake for me” “You can throw me into horny jail all you want but Toei did not do Crocodile any justice, manga Croc is fine as hell, a handsome middle aged sonovabitch and I swear to god by the time I'm done with him that man will be pregnant again” “He's a trans desert king and I love him. I have no other defense” “What you would get is a 8'4" dom with a cool ass style(dude had a whole outift change in impel down just cause LOL). Anon is so right tho, he really is a bond villian type huh? That's a great description ngl 😂” “Big tall sexy transmasc, need I say More” “croc is my virgo king I MUST choose him” “Mr. Sandman is very handsome despite turning into beach herpes. Look if glitter is craft herpes then sand is beach herpes” “

Mihawk: The Vampire Pirate, Goth Dad, the sword father, Pirate Dracula, the big titty goth husband, "I think mihawk would treat you right. i want mihawk to treat me right", "I love his gay wine uncle energy", "I appreciate that he dresses Like That everywhere extra ass bitch", "hot vampire cowboy pirate", Morticia Addams, "Mihawk oozes 'step on me' energy", “ow wow i really don't like mihawk in the live action i mean he's great and funny and terribly camp and reminds me of snagglepuss so i guess he fits a tumblr hotbod to a t!” “mihawk has the most ridiculous moustache known to man” “live action Mihawk was so my type in looks it was like a personal attack” “see if it was a picture of his slutty pants i might have voted for mihawk” “queuecifer” “seeing them side by side. you gotta give credit to the live action. thats just the same dude” “sorry this time it's the la the mustache just looks so much more ridiculous in live action and i love that a man who deliberately and on purpose cuts his facial hair like that is someone i have GOT to bang immediately” “dracule EASY” “everybody likes the fucking twink the most” “see, for me the reason that mihawk is hot is because he'd totally be a pillow princess which means that i'd be able to either 1) ride his face till i pass out, 2) ride his dick till i cant walk, or 3) fuck him till i cant walk. he also has cute eyes and is 'working for' one of the stupidest men to ever sail the seas” “idk man what can i tell you. dracule mihawk vampire sexy” “mihawk my beloved ❤️” “ My autistic goth dad who doesn't know how to use an air fryer”

The Whitebeard Pirates

Ace: "Depressed sunshine orphan boy with daddy issues", "ace has that grungy line cook riz you know he lays legendary pipe", " he got goofy older brother swag", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", "Ace my greasy fire narcoleptic king", "The narcoleptic babygirl", the greasy crusty desert rat. "He would be worth the burn risk", "my favorite fire donut", "something about greasy alabasta ace hits so different", "with his riz he's probably a walking STD risk but it would be worth it. Just look at him probably also probably got a couple bastard kids running around the grand line", it's ok he's still greasy in my heart worlds most feral baby boy he looks like he eats dirt I could fix him (force him to bathe regularly)" “ace has to win every* time he’s LITERALLY FIRE *excluding cases where the opponent is a similar if not more incendiary material” “i am but a sheep i voted ace bc he is my cinnamon apple” “I mean, literally? Ace. Guy's literally made of fire, course he's the hottest.” “this is a trick question obviously it's Fire Fist Ace who can literally turn into fire” “Ace is automatically hottest because he's made of fire.” “ace brainrot is real rn I clicked him so fast” “pfffftt ace's about to be put six feet under again the way he has more votes than the rest combined” “freshly made donut straight from the fryer” “ace is so hot he melted a hole is his - i mean my - heart. he's so hot that he can touch lava and live- i mean he can touch lava. Once. ace is so hot that he turned into a funeral pyre!!!!! ace is so hot his brothers had to get burned just compete ace is so hot he took fire fist literally!!! he took that phrase right to the chest!!! ace is so hot his necklace melted right off of him. ace is so hot everybody just HAD to watched him get fisted on live television. snail vision? Idk okay im done now maybe” “Ace my special little greasy fucked up guy!!! traumatized twunk who may have rabies but it’s ok” “sorry i have to vote for my greasy rat husband ♡” “I see my guy. I vote for him. simple. anyways vote Ace” “ace obliterate this man” “greasy dumpster fire man gotta get the vote” “ace my love my darling my greasy stoner sweetiepie mi chacalito hermoso the light of my life and my blunts” “

Marco: Bird daddy "Mr. Dr. Emotionally-Stable Scrungles", "surfer hippy electric blue glasses wing flapper", "DR. MMMMM", Fineapple" “Marco my favourite little bird. (/∀＼)” “Marco, my love, my darling bird, you won't win - but that's okay, cause you'll always be my 1 <3 /blushes like some little school girl/ don't look at me right now I'm being lovey dovey” “Ah, my sweet bird, you're in a poll with a lot of really hot guys, but that was still an easy vote for me <3” “MARCOOOOOOOO he's a very mild “hear me out” but he's one of mine nonetheless” “Marco!!! everyone sleeps on my favorite old man birb but that’s ok I know the truth” “marco the phoenix also im losing my mind at his talons” “Oh I would be so grateful for some love for my well-toned and taloned retirement blorbo <3” “pls vote marco he's insanely hot” “

Izou: “the things I would do to get izou to shove his gun up my ass…” "Izo is absolutely my type.” “DUDEEEE IZOU PRETTIEST MAN ALIVE IZOU genuinely i would take izou over ace <- unpopular opinion but oughhhh. he. I” “

The Blackbeard Pirates

Blackbeard: “i find Blackbeard so fucking attractive for reasons not even i can explain” “The thing is, who's those 1 percentage that vote for Blackbeard like fr what did you see??😭” “blackbeard wins by virtue of being the sole bhm here. i know he did all those other things but its fine. its okay.” “

Catarina Devon: "my problematic lesbian sugar mommy”

The Big Mom Pirates

Amande: “lowkey obsessed w amande she was soooo cool for the seconds she was on-screen 🥲”

Big Mom: “kinda unfair that Linlin got a picture of her milf phase” “young big mom has to be cheating. voted for her anyway though” “young Linlin is fine as hell tho so she takes it” “you used a picture of YOUNG big mom so yeah it's her hot damn” “

Cracker: "if Cracker just let his hair down he'd be unstoppable i fear", "get wrecked cracker", "I am so curious about the people voting for cracker let me study you please", "cracker getting murdered as expected", "you can't do my biscuit husband like that", "i find cracker really hot"

Daifuku: “power dresser daifuku leads look at those padded shoulders”

Katakuri: "I'm a monsterfucker at heart", "Katakuri is literally so good man he's a family man #he's badass he's got a great sense of honour you know I had to go for the mochi man", "donut king", "KATAKURI MY MOCHI MONSTER TEETH KING CHAMPION HUSBAND THAT I WOULD CLIMB LIKE A MOUNTAIN #I'M ALWAYS ON MY CLIMBING AGENDA WITH MY ONE PIECE KINGS!", "i just know this man would treat me right we love kata", "Kata definitely ticks that hot box" “my giant self conscious doughnut loving beloved” “I could fix him I swear” “To clarify, Katakuri is sixteen feet, eight and a half inches tall. Let that sink in.” “I must defend the donut man” “

Perospero: ”lololol you guys are wrong like look at Perospero what that tongue do😏” “Perospero looks like a dog whose front teeth have been removed and I can't unsee that”

Praline: “ok everyone i'm gonna need a praline sweep RIGHT NOW shes simply perfect”

Smoothie: "ah...smoothie....or as i call her... one piece tsunade Imaoo", "ultimately my desire to be crushed by Smoothie's thighs won out", "SMOOTHIE. THANK YOU mommy long legs... gauhggfghgh......i want her to juice me pleeeeaaaseeeeeeeeeee /silly", “no lady in this poll is prettier than Smoothie. She's got them fine legs that go for days.” “SMOOTHIE MY GIRL U MAY NOT PULL THRU BUT YOULL ALWAYS BE MY FAV” “

The Beast Pirates

Black Maria: “i’m absolutely terrified of spiders but black maria EASILY”

Kaido: "beefcake beast of a man",

King: "King is literally the most beautiful OP character you can't change my mind", "Gotta chose the melanin yknow", "king is so ajdhjdjdjchjd bark bark bark bark", "I saw King and decided he is my blorbo", "king of my [REDACTED]", " I know he's like 20 ft tall and I'm probably the size of his d*** but it would be worth it. I would gladly choose death by snu snu for one night with him" “king is the source of the uhhh. govt weapon fuel source aint he i feel like that gives him hot dominion also: sexiest” “have y'all already forgotten how everyone's brains short-circuited when king's face was revealed shame on you” “its king. no contest no question. i am a slut for a brown man w long hair and i know this about myself” “im a lesbian but king honestly” “king cake IS my favorite kind of cake i'm very proud of that one” “honestly i think king might be the hottest guy oda's ever made” “I mean when king took off his mask for the first time I said out loud 'oh my god he's beautiful'. So.” “I think you’re forgetting that he’s a dark-skinned anime character. We don’t get a lot of those, so they get lapped up like an oasis in the desert” “he dick woudl rip me in half, and that is not something i am interested in’ COWARDICE” “my acearo ass would climb this man like a fucking tree” “Nahhhh this man is a delicious chocolate milkshake 🥵💕😍 I'd climb that 20 foot tree like my life depended on it. Yeah the dinosaur fruit is kind of 🤷‍♀️ but oh well! That skin, that hair them black fluffy wings are everything. He's so handsomee plussss I'd love to run my fingers through that long hair 😍💕” “His face is carved by the angels themselves” “I need king to **** ******* ****** ***** *** **** **** ** ****” “haha u funny. fire...anyway its King when u simp over someone from One Piece and find out theyre 20 ft tall” “right off the bat king is my fourth pick here. it's a three way time with the other three sorry king he's just. like he's very pretty yes but there's a difference between pretty and hot king is just pretty. ur not winnin today buddyboy” “

Solitaire: “SOLITAIREEEEE GUYS I SWEAR SHES SO FINE IM IN LOVE W HER SHE CAN CHOKE ME W THOSE 6 ARMS I MEAN WHOSAIDTHAT”

#funny tags #one piece #not a poll #cross guild #red hair pirates #whitebeard pirates #blackbeard pirates #big mom pirates #beast pirates #spicy #fandom observations #whoishotteranimepolls

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