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strawberryblue-blog · 4 months ago

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The way I look at you

—Jude Bellingham.

summary: Being Jude's Spanish teacher and having a secret relationship with him makes you feel insecure after a situation.

warnings: yes. +18. friends to lovers, smut, explicit content, unprotected sex, p in v, discomfort, angst, etc.

words count: +2.9k

The chill of the night hit your body as you stepped out onto the balcony of the hotel dining room as you felt suffocated by so many people around you. You sighed as the nerves prickled in your belly and you pushed the ideas out of your head. It was the end of the year party that the Real Madrid team gave for their players and so on, it consisted of a thank you and toast with the delivery of some awards to the players and that. It was your first time here and it was also the first time in your life that you felt so insignificant.

The people in there were nothing like you, well yes there were some worthwhile ones but most of them were rich and important people compared to you. With high ranks in their positions, famous, exemplary and recognized and of course, the players of the team with their families.

Being Jude Bellingham's Spanish teacher and agreeing to come here as his "casual date" had been a disaster. Especially since he had been introducing you to everyone as his "friend", only his good friend. You don't even know why you had agreed to come tonight in the first place, it was obvious that you and Jude were not in a serious relationship and you were just friends. You felt disappointed and confused.

"Y/n?" he asked peeking out the door as he saw you with your back turned.

You turn your body to see Jude walk out and close the door as behind the doors people chatted, laughed and toasted.

"What are you doing here?" he insisted at your half smile. "Here" he took off his jacket and rested it on your shoulders.

"Thank you" you murmured slowly with kindness.

"Everything okay?" his hand slyly caressed your waist. You nodded barely smiling slightly at him.

"I just needed air" you tilted your head and hugged your body.

His gaze quickly darts inward and you assume he's checking to make sure no one is watching and when he sees no one is paying attention, he moves towards you and kisses your forehead softly as he hugs your shoulders.

Your belly flutters as you feel his warmth on you but the urge to cry threatens. You hate not being able to hold his hand in public, hug him or kiss him. You hate having to say that you're friends, that you're just his Spanish teacher and that you have nothing more than a good, professional relationship.

You don't want to worry him but the urge to go home doesn't leave you alone. You know that if you leave now he will want to come with you and you don't want to leave him without telling him either but you don't feel part of this place anymore.

"I think I'll go home" you mutter somewhat exhausted.

Jude looks at you, pulling away a little. He nods, patting your arms.

"Okay, let's go" he says taking your hand to guide you. But you stop him before he can move forward.

You don't want him to leave because of you. It's barely past midnight and you feel a little guilty that he's leaving so early, even though he doesn't really like parties, this is his chance to get to know his classmates better.

"You don't have to come, I can take a cab" you tell him kindly.

Jude declines.

"I came with you, I'm going with you" he mutters amused.

You nod with nothing else to do. You know it's not easy to convince Jude and he won't let you go home alone. You accompany him to greet his classmates and elders, staying by his side while they finish talking.

"It's been a pleasure, sweetheart" says Maca, Lucas Vazquez's wife. The other girlfriends and wives greet you animatedly as you say goodbye to them.

When you both finish saying goodbye and greeting, you walk to the parking lot in complete silence. The ride home is silent, Jude even tries to ask you questions but you just answer with the necessary.

When you arrive home, Jude accompanies you to the door but this time you walk hand in hand, together and quietly. Your heart aches but you don't want to ask, you don't want to sound distant or ruin whatever it is you have. Though doubts begin to fill your head, tonight Jude has proven that you two have nothing serious and maybe it was only you who saw it differently. Maybe you thought you two could become something and you weren't.

As you pass the key in your door, Jude stands behind you and you turn to see him.

"See you tomorrow, Jude" you greet with a smile, taking off his jacket to give it back to him.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he asks teasingly with a chuckle.

You deny with a smile.

"Then let me in" he points out and you scurry to let him pass quickly apologizing for your distraction.

He was so beautiful. His gaze stays glued to yours and your heart expands in your chest. His expensive black suit is delicately pressed, the white shirt is marked on his body so strongly. How could he be so handsome and gentlemanly like that?

His fingers caress your once arms up your cool skin. His face comes close to yours and before he kisses you, you take his hand and walk inside the house. You can tell he's surprised and probably confused, you haven't let him touch you since you got back but you honestly don't know what you want. Or what's right.

You take off your shoes and Jude sheds his walk a little following you around the house as you arrange things.

"There's something wrong" he mutters when you stop in the kitchen. His hands rest on his waist and he looks at you curiously.

"What are you talking about?" you ask pretending to be oblivious.

You set the glass of water down on the sink after drinking and offer him something but he declines.

"You look weird" he says as you walk back to your room to change. "Like you're upset or angry" he insists behind you.

"Nothing like that, Jude" you deny walking towards the bathroom in your room.

You remove your makeup with a damp towel and wash your face, finally combing your hair. Jude snorts sitting on the end of the bed as he continues to watch your every move. When you return to the bed, Jude is still there, waiting for you. You walk over to him and position yourself between his legs, cupping his face. He wraps his hands around your hips and pulls you closer to him as you gently kiss his lips in a simple, warm touch.

His large hands slide down your back until they reach the zipper of your evening gown, his fingers grope the area and he begins to unfasten the garment. His lips have never left yours as his hands take care of pulling down your straps and the bluish colored piece that covered your body, disappears from his vision and is left lying adorning the floor.

You cannot refuse, you are bewitched under his control. Jude is delicate and careful with you that makes your heart wallow with love. You can't be angry with him, you can't reproach him for anything, you can't help but feel special when his hands touch you, his eyes see you or his lips are on yours.

Your hands cradle his face as they pull away from his kiss, Jude's chest is heaving and yours is heaving with happiness, his smile is marked when he sees you in front of him, naked and ready for him.

"Tell me what it is, please" he murmurs as his eyes look deep into yours.

"It's nothing, Jude, don't worry" you say again with a small smile and he denies.

His face moves to your chest and he leaves a chaste kiss between the hollow of your breasts, starting to move over one of them and down to your belly. His hands outline your waists gently as his lips continue to place small kisses on your skin, making you gasp and try to hide them.

"You don't have to lie, I know you, Y/n" he insists against your skin, making you bristle.

You sigh in surrender. He really does know you and he knows something is wrong, despite your lazy effort to hide it.

"I felt overwhelmed, that's all" you barely say and he looks back at you with his eyes waiting for you to keep talking.

You don't want to keep talking, somehow you're a little embarrassed to admit that maybe you were your ideas and what you two had was casual or he really saw you as a friend.

The look in his eyes was still confused and his expression on his face invited you to keep talking.

"Lying about us... it makes me feel insecure like we're really nothing and.... I can't stand it" you shut up right away noticing how you exploded.

It sounded like complaining and you didn't want to reproach him. And maybe you're asking for too much but you don't want to keep feeling this.

You're in love with him, from the first moment you two met. It was two years ago when Jude had just arrived in Madrid. You became his Spanish teacher after your friend got you the job through an acquaintance, you started giving him classes, teaching him the basics and everything he would need.

Jude was a good student, he was smart, quick and patient but most of all he was a good man. Attentive, caring and brilliant, how could you not fall in love with him? And yes, you understood that you had at first only a professional relationship, after a while you had become good friends but now it was different.

You started to understand each other, to share moments together, to go out, to stay at home after classes and things like that. You got used to each other and he was the first one to ask you on a date, a romantic date where he kissed you and you started dating.

You knew you couldn't make it official, Jude was very well liked by the fans and a romantic relationship was the last thing they expected from him, either for publicity or for his performance on the field. So you decided to keep it private. Or at least whatever you guys had, it only went from the door in. You were going slow and testing but you were still his teacher and you still had to do your job, so you used to see each other from time to time.

You had never talked about it but you were fine. You started seeing each other more often, you went out to eat, he stayed at your house, you kissed, you spent the nights together, you did the typical couple things without having a title and it didn't bother you. Until today.

Tonight you were hoping that he would be able to recognize what you had and introduce you to everyone as more than just his friend and teacher. That wasn't the case though and so you were somewhat disappointed. Not with him, not with you, but with the situation. And with yourself.

"But it's okay" you say again trying to downplay it.

You didn't want to aggravate him now with all this reproach It wasn't even his fault, it was his decision and maybe you expected something else.

"No, it's not" his hands help you sit on his lap. "I should have asked you what you wanted, I just assumed we were fine like this but clearly we're not" he says concerned.

"It's nothing, Jude" you deny with a smile. "It's just stupid stuff from me, it's not your fault" you pat his arm.

His eyes look up at you shining and you smile at him reassuringly. Jude shakes his head and takes your face.

"I don't want you to think that, you're important to me, you know that?" he questions and you nod in relief. "You're my girl" he mumbles something and of course.

You laugh caressing his skin as he smiles towards you.

"You think they don't know, Y/n?" he asks laughing flirtatiously with his amused expression. "No one takes a woman as beautiful as you to one of those dinners just because she's your friend, do you think?"

Now his hands run down your body again and down to your back to grab you and turn you over your weight. With a squeal, you remain underneath his muscular body and you smile as you watch him lick his lips.

"They know very well that friends don't look at each other like that..." his eyes roam over your face admiring it in detail.

"Not the way I look at you" he continues to whisper as his hand runs down your leg, past your thigh and belly but his eyes never fail to meet yours.

It is an extraordinary connection, the way he makes your world spin, the way your heart pounds as you listen to him, the way his gaze penetrates yours with such dedication, admiration and praise. The stars can be seen in the deep, dark sea of his eyes and you are sure they reflect yours as well. He is really seeing you, not just looking at you, he is observing you, analyzing you, studying you, contemplating you.

At this moment you feel bad for having doubted Jude at first, it's obvious you were just overreacting but you can't help it when he's by your side. He is a gorgeous, polite and confident man. You are in love with every part of him and you were afraid you were the only one in the relationship.

With every touch from Jude, your skin would crawl, your heart would race and your chest would burn with excitement. Jude was the only person who had ever made you feel this special, made you feel full of joy and freedom. He was the one person you wanted by your side, that you wanted to kiss and love.

"You are the most precious thing I have" he says coming closer to your face. A smile appears on your lips and you hold his face warmly.

"And you are mine, Jude" you whisper sincerely.

Without another word, his lips impacted with yours and this time, there was no gentleness in his kiss. It was solid, hard and wild. Like a desperate, needy, longing kiss. His body was perfectly positioned between your legs and his hands began to spread over your body, caressing every bare corner of your skin.

His clothes were a problem just now and quickly your hands found the buttons of the lucid white shirt and began to detach one by one as you continued to eat your mouth. Literally. It didn't take long for him to detach your bra and throw it somewhere in the room with his shirt. Your hands contoured every hard muscle of his back and chest, tracing lines on his skin, on his juicy and soft skin.

Your tongues battled together, caressing each other as your hands couldn't reach out to touch each other where they could, feeling your fingers burn across his skin. You don't know how long you spent kissing but you know it was enough to make you both hot, needy. Your crotch ached and your erect nipples begged to be licked, caressed by his tongue with every movement, you wanted Jude in every way possible.

The grown bulge rubbed against your lower belly as you tried to unbutton his dress pants but your fingers trembled with pleasure as his kisses drifted to your breasts, kissing them in greeting and then taking one with his mouth, kissing it. Your hands held his back as his gasps echoed on your sensitive skin, you wanted him to touch you. And Jude knew it, his strong hands spread your thighs beneath him and his fingers slipped into your crotch, moving closer to your center, where he began to knead over the fabric and at the same moment his mouth bit one of your nipples, making you squeal. Your back arched and the tips of your toes compressed as you cried out his name.

"Fuck, Jude" you moaned sobbing.

He did it again, this time stroking your wet lips, up and down, helping you to spill your own juices over your center. He caressed your clit with his fingertip, while his lips continued to maul your erect and pink nipples. Your fingers had become anchored in the sheets, crinkling them as you sought to hold back from something as the waves of pleasure lapped at your body. When he groped your hot spot, a moan escaped your lips and you bit your tongue silencing yourself as his fingers made room in your hole. Wet, hot, tight. Again you pressed him against you again, needing his touch as his fingers began to pump inside you, in a torturous, overwhelming thrust in and out.

You were so sensitive, that at any moment you would come and even though you needed it, you wanted to end up with his cock inside you. With your hand you stop him and Jude quickly understands, pulling away from you to sensually pull your panties down your legs. A smile appears on his lips as you are completely at his mercy, your legs spread wide, your wetness dripping and your heart leaping.

He stood up a little to remove the last of his clothes that were also left on him and positioned himself between your legs again. Your fingers dug into his back as his crotch brushed against yours, seeking some relief from so much need but you both knew you didn't need just that.

His palms covered your breasts, which fit perfectly into them and he squeezed them hard making you squeal, streams of pleasure hit your wetness and you could feel how much of a client you were down there.

You wanted to feel him inside.

With a single thrust, you climbed over his body, sitting on his hard belly. His muscles tensed and he watched you from below, you on his body, hot and ready to take him. He bit his lips as your hands caressed his bulge, gripping it and squeezing it a little. A choked gasp came from Jude's mouth as you continued to move your hand over his swollen crotch.

After helping him remove his underwear, you went back to sitting on his lap as he straightened up to sit with you. You cupped his delicate face, kissing his lips patiently and softly. His full lips were your undoing, you would never tire of kissing those luscious lips as delicious as Jude's.

His hands roamed up and down your back as you took his member and positioned it at your entrance, playing a little at your center with the warm wetness of your pussy. Slowly you began to lower yourself down onto your cock, sinking down as you both had in unison as you felt yourselves fill. Your walls tightened around it as you began to move slowly over it, up and down to, smooth and deep, taking all the time to feel it deep inside you.

"Too wet and tight, baby" he moaned as he went all the way inside you.

He grunted holding his breath as you moved slowly and consistently. This was heaven itself, the way you guys fit together perfectly. How his cock slid inside you rhythmically, how his fingers held your body and his eyes kept seeing you.

Your hands cradling his cheeks as your gazes were connected as if you needed each other, talked to each other, loved each other. It was so intimate and exciting. Your hips kept moving with the help of his hands that had dug into your skin, that there would probably be marks tomorrow but you didn't care. It was proof of his love.

You didn't want to stop seeing his black eyes, shining in front of yours but you needed to kiss him. Your lips take his and it's a soft, romantic touch. His hands continue to control your movements on his cock, as you move over him. Up and down, side to side, in circles and in reverse.

The atmosphere feels tense, sticky, hot. His sweaty body, his stifling moans, the dirty noise of his sex, it was perfect.

It was wild but still had the intense, delicate touch of their love, enjoying every drop of pleasure that coursed through their bodies. Their mouths devoured each other as his hands circled your breasts and played with your hard, needy nipples. Your hands buried in her back, trying to hold you as your movements became erratic, digging your nails deep into her skin.

"Yes, shit!" you screamed as the world faded away between you.

You wanted to scream, to get it all out of your chest, to tell him how much you loved him. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, just you and him. Clawing at his back, screaming his name desperately, his body beneath yours as his teeth dug into your shoulders and his fingers left red trails on your skin. You wanted to love Jude, private or public it didn't matter to you but he hated that word.

Friends. You weren't friends, he'd said so himself. Friends didn't look at each other that way. The way you looked at Jude, the way Jude looked at you. With love. With hope, with illusion, with fascination. As if you depended on each other, as if your hearts were tied together, as if he was your air to breathe, as if you were his reason for existing.

Everything about Jude enchanted you. You loved him. Like you had never loved anyone, like you had never wanted anyone. Because you were born to be together, you found each other, you met, you knew each other, you fell in love, you felt each other, you belonged.

"Look at me, baby" he whispered in your ear as you kept moving sensually over his body.

You were ecstatic in a dimension completely out of the ranges, feeling how your whole body joined Jude's, how your hearts beat in tandem, how your breaths got lost in each other's skins.

You could barely open your eyes, you could barely move but you couldn't stop. It was overwhelming, the desperation to feel more united than before, in body and soul, in being and consciousness.

"You are my whole life" he whispered in his perfect accent that melted you.

Your eyes smiled as your mouth couldn't shut up and your hips couldn't stop moving, hard and fast, his cock buried deep in your core, hitting exactly the right spot.

"I love you, princess" he whispered again as his hands held your face in front of yours.

"I love you, Jude" you said before receiving the surges of pleasure through your system.

And you exploded. He exploded. It was glorious. The way you both climaxed together as you told each other you loved each other, the look on his face as he spilled inside you, as you received him, tight and hot. How your hearts toasted from your breasts and wallowed in ecstasy.

The desperate gasps and your bodies trembling as you fell surrendered on his shoulder and Jude gently embraced you. Your skins glistening with sweat and your breaths heaving for air.

You never said that word to you before. Maybe you were too excited and had imagined those words but you are sure you had said them. It had come out loud and clear from your mouth. More than from your mouth, they came from deep inside you. You loved him and you didn't want to hide it anymore.

"Shall we make it official?" he asks as your bodies fall limp on the bed.

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you to his chest. The words get stuck in your mouth, is he really serious?

"You don't have to feel pressured, I was just overreacting..." you try to say kindly, feeling guilty about earlier.

"No, I want to" he says firmly. "I want them to know that you're mine, that we're together" he insists and your chest vibrates.

You bite your lip as you hide a gasp.

"Come on, it's just you and me" he begs again with his sparkling eyes and that enchanting smile. "Do you really want to do this?"

A smile tugs at your lips and you nod as you feel your belly roar. Butterflies begin to flutter and make you sigh at his gaze.

You move closer to him and when your lips are almost brushing against his, you smile.

"Of course I do, Jude" you reply before crashing your lips against yours again.

#football imagines #imagine #football one shot #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fluff

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clazaries · 10 months ago

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The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.”

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?”

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.”

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do.

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order.

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful.

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.”

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best.

“Stay sharp.”

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it.

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests.

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military.

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.”

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.”

“Then why isn’t he out?”

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.”

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm.

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?”

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.”

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.”

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.”

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume.

“Why the fuck are we here then?”

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.”

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--”

“Frankie! Do you copy?”

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup?

“He needs help!”

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?”

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage.

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!”

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle.

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--”

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.”

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos.

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.”

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago.

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself.

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud.

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?”

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?”

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.”

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?”

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily.

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.”

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge.

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece.

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?”

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.”

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?”

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots.

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him.

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers.

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised.

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot.

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--”

“No! No, I-I want to stay.”

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.”

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.”

“How?”

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him.

Your thighs press together beneath the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie.”

“A…A little, sir.”

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.”

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had.

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.”

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified.

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer.

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily.

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating.

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority.

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt.

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in.

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.”

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum.

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.”

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter.

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…”

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off.

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts.

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.”

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?”

“No, but--”

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.”

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close.

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes.

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him.

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.”

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise.

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.”

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior.

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries.

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years.

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly.

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point.

You sigh. “I know.”

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.”

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—”

This again. “But Frankie--”

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.”

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that.

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.”

“I promise.”

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.”

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.”

668 notes · View notes

tiredfox64 · 9 months ago

Text

Too Late? You’re Still Young!

Prior notes: DILFS! I LOVE THEM! I LITERALLY HAVE A I ❤️ DILFS SHIRT! YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE I LOVE? CONSENT! WE 👏 LOVE 👏 CONSENT👏!

Pairing: Johnny Cage (MK11) x Virgin! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, fingering, praising, nipple play, safe sex is sweeter, mating press, aftercare (is freaking important)

So you spent all of high school and all of college with you virginity in tact. Impressive, but it wasn’t your choice. With a sheltered home life like yours you struggled to understand the dating scene. You were too afraid to have a boyfriend since you worried you would get in trouble with your family. You never had the talk before but your hormones were a big indicator that you were missing some important information about your body. You somewhat found the solution when you placed a pillow between your legs and it felt incredible good to you.

Through Sex Ed class and word around school you figured out what you were in need of. But to get it seemed so difficult. At least now you knew your fingers were a good option.

That frustration grew in you and you couldn’t voice it out. Even telling it to your best friend Cassie felt wrong. You’re almost graduating and you still have your v card! You can’t do this anymore. Maybe it’s time to ask Cassie for advice. Even if she can’t help you maybe one of her friends can. Two of them are engaged to each other you doubt they are waiting till after marriage. Heaven knows you can’t.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You went over to Johnny’s mansion since you remembered Cassie was staying with him for a bit. You knocked on the door and waited patiently with an anxious look on your face. It was Johnny who opened the door.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while,” He paused for a second, “Woah, what’s up with that face?”

“Hi, Mr. Cage. Is Cassie here right now?” You asked sheepishly.

“Nope, sorry. She just went out with Jacqui. But you should still come in. I’ll get you something to drink.” He invited you in.

You went inside, taking your shoes off at the entrance like a decent human being. You followed Johnny into the kitchen where you sat at the island. He gave you a glass of water which you thanked him for before he started talking.

“So what’s going on? You don’t seem to happy. Let me guess, a professor gave you a bad grade.”

He knows you too well. That could be true but not at this moment. You did smile though which is the reaction he wanted.

“No actually, it’s more of a…body issue.” You tried your best to explain it without saying it out loud.

“Ah, shark week I’m guessing? That’s why you need Cassie.”

“No! No! It’s another kind of issue that I have a hard time saying.” Your voice grew quieter the more you spoke.

Johnny stayed patient. He waited to see if you would say it yourself. You were being vague so he really didn’t understand what was going on. You sighed before continuing.

“The thing is I’m still a virgin. It’s really embarrassing. I feel so frustrated knowing that my body needs something but I either don’t know what it is or I can’t get it.” Now he understands.

He stayed silent for a bit as he thinks about what you said. He would say it’s no big deal but he’s a man with a high body count so he shouldn’t be talking. Still, he doesn’t want you feeling bad about it.

“Cassie did tell me you were a bit sheltered. But I don’t see why it’s a problem. You’re a nice and intelligent girl and I would hate for some dick to take your virginity as if it was nothing.”

“Everybody says that to me! I know what I am and I understand I need a good man to do it with. But how will I know what is considered a good man if no one tells me.” You were really expressing your frustration.

You had a point and Johnny could see that. You were at risk of being misguided. Everyone is at risk of that no matter what but you had a disadvantage. He had an idea that might work out but it seemed so stupid. Hormonal stupid. He’s been deprived for a while now and getting the chance to have some fun is really tempting right now. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of your situation. It won’t hurt to ask.

“Alright listen, how about you and me…do it. I’ll show you how it goes and what a man should be doing to you. It’s up to you. I won’t force you to do anything.” He said calmly.

You froze up and your cheeks started to feel warm. You were surprised he would suggest something like that even though you knew of his flirting habits. Was it a good idea however? He is your friend’s dad and he is way older than you. You can’t deny though that he is still good looking for his age. Older does mean more experience, right? He’s been so nice to you too so you can trust that he’s a good man. Screw it, he’s the best option!

“You wouldn’t mind doing that? I mean I do feel comfortable with you, especially since I don’t have any guy friends.”

“Of course, but only this one time. Promise me you won’t tell Cassie, right? I get it she’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything and whatnot. But she is still my daughter and I doubt she will be happy that I banged one of her best friends.”

“I promise. She will never find out.” Better make sure of that.

He nodded before taking your hand and guiding you up the stairs. It was exciting yet nerve racking. Johnny could sensed that and squeezed your hand to tell you it’s gonna be alright. He’s gonna take good care of you.

You two walked into his bedroom. His bed was large and comfortable which helped settle your nerves. He brought you over to the bed and had you sit next to him. He may be an expert in this but he has never really dealt with a girl who was so nervous before. He better take this real slow and talk you through it.

“Alright, first things first, a man should never go right into it. Foreplay is very important. It will help make the experience better for you and prevent you from getting hurt down there.” He instructed.

You had no idea what foreplay was but you trusted Johnny enough to not asking him about it. You were right to do so since all he did at first was kiss your neck. Already that was a lot for you. Each kiss felt like a little tingle that shot down between your legs.

Johnny’s hand was slowly tracing down your body till he got to the waistband of your pants. Your breathing hitched which alerted him you were getting nervous again.

“Shh, it’s okay. Remember I’m taking it slow. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered against your neck.

You relaxed a little as his hand slipped under. His fingers lightly touched your clit and you whimpered immediately. It felt way different than when you would do it to yourself. This is way better, probably cause you are receiving it from someone else. Johnny wanted to see how you were a little more down and was surprised at how wet you already were. He could easily slip his fingers in if he wanted to.

“Damn, you’re really wet. I’ve never had a girl get this excited so quickly.” He commented.

You were embarrassed by that. Barely touched and you are soaking wet down there. You turned your head away from Johnny to prevent any further embarrassment. He just chuckled lightly at your reaction.

“It’s not a bad thing. It makes it easier. You’re doing good.”

One of his fingers slipped into your pussy with ease. You gasped in surprise and pleasure. You never fingered yourself since you never felt anything from it. But you sure felt it now. That one finger slowly pumped inside you as his thumb rubbed your clit. You were keeping yourself together which was good. Johnny felt like you could take a little more.

“You think you can take another one?”

You nodded your head confidently. You wanted more anyways. Your body was in need of it. Now having both his ring and middle finger in you was like heaven. He went a little faster while his thumb kept rubbing your clit.

Your whimpers to turned to quiet, breathy moans. Now it felt too good. Without thinking you were trying to close your legs. You don’t know why you do it you just know you don’t want to make it hard for Johnny.

“Gotta keep your legs open for me. I promise it will be better for you if you do.”

You listened and tried your best to keep your legs open, spreading them wider than before. That should do it.

“That’s it, good girl.” He whispered.

Immediately you had a reaction. Your heart did flips and you felt warmth in your stomach. Johnny caught on when he felt your pussy clench against his fingers. Not surprising considering you always did seem excited by praise no matter what. He’ll keep that in mind when he fucks you in just a moment.

Your body grew hotter the longer this went on. It didn’t help that Johnny was so close to you. So close that his other hand went to the small of your back to support you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands so you were left clenching the bed sheets. Suddenly he asked you a very important question.

“Wait, now that I’m thinking about it, have you even had your first kiss?”

Nope, you didn’t even get that. You nodded no.

“Well I must look like a jerk. What kind of man am I,” He said comedically, “Let me help you with that as well.”

This must be some sort of dream. A dirty one at best. A dream where you are kissing your best friend’s hot dad as he fingers you. Even if you weren’t the best at kissing, Johnny was making it work. Thank goodness your lips were soft cause you’d be embarrassed if they weren’t.

This was all enough to send you over the edge. It really didn’t take much effort since you were so deprived. Your eyes were shut tight as you felt pleasure pulse through your body. You were moan against Johnny’s lips. He felt your pussy clench his fingers which was enough evidence to show he just made you cum. Damn, in three minutes? That’s a new record. To him that was impressive and boosted his already high ego. You were embarrassed, thinking that cumming too early was a bad thing. It’s only bad when it’s guys, you’re fine.

“I’m sorry. I thought I would last longer.” You apologized.

“There’s no need to apologize. It just means we can get to the really fun part now. Take your clothes and get comfortable on the bed.” He instructed.

Johnny gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping his hand out from your pants. He wanted to make sure you were still comfortable. There was no need to feel embarrassed around him. The important thing is if you’re comfortable and still okay with this.

You took your time when taking your clothes off. Obviously you never stripped down in front of a man. Even when you would go to the pool you were nervous to take your shirt off. This was a big leap but you felt like you could do this. Deep breathes and take your time.

While you did that, Johnny went over to his bedside table to grab a condom. You could see how prepared this man is when you saw the long line of condoms he had. It’s been a while for him, they’re still good.

When you took all your clothes off you were quick to get on the bed and cover yourself with the blankets. He doesn’t mind he understands. He started to strip his clothes off and oh…wow.

You don’t care what anybody says he is like fine wine. He looks like he’s still in his prime. You couldn’t deny you felt yourself get wetter and you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the pressure down there. Then he took his pants off. Girl, you’re in trouble but a good kind of trouble.

You’re not mathematician or scientist but you can definitely say he was bigger than average. Was it supposed to be that thick? He saw how wide your eyes were and decided to tilt your head up so you could look at him instead.

“You should probably keep your eyes on me for now. Might scare you if you look down there for too long.” He’s not wrong but he sounds arrogant saying that.

He got on the bed and slowly pulled the blankets off you. You were still being shy which is fine. There is no need to rush into this he will make sure you are comfortable with going ahead. Plus, he’s gotta comment on those tits.

“You have a nice pair on you. Do you mind?” He was asking for your permission to play with them.

You nodded and he went in slowly. You felt his hands cup your breasts gently. His thumb rubbed against your soft skin. You were surprised by how calming it felt. Sure you were even more turned on but you also felt less nervous. Johnny came in closer and started to leave kisses all over them. At first it was gentle but then he decided he wanted to leave hickeys on them. Nothing too big but they were the perfect spot since no one will see them. It was definitely a new feeling but when you saw the marks he left on you, you knew you liked it.

You know what else you liked? When his tongue ran over your nipple. It surprised you but you soon relaxed again to the feeling. He sucked on your nipple gently, not wanting to overstimulate you just yet. His other hand went to pinch your other nipple which excited you more. Once again it was another situation where it felt better when someone else did it instead of you. With all this combined you started to grow needy. There was no sense of embarrassment or nervousness anymore, only this need to be fucked. You started to whine which let Johnny know you were ready.

“Alright, alright, I get you. Just give me a second, babe.”

It didn’t take long for Johnny to put the condom on, what a manwhore. He angled himself before holding your hand. It was for support.

“Just tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

Then he started to push into your wet pussy. The feeling of being stretched out for the first time was deliciously painful. It’s not what you expected. You expected to be screaming and for a bunch of blood to come out. Nope, not at all. Inch by inch he slowly pushed himself inside of you till he was fully in. He didn’t start thrusting immediately since he knew you had to adjust.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m more than okay.”

“That’s good. You’re doing so good. So good for me.” Johnny started to give you kisses on your face which you appreciated.

After a few moments he started slowly thrusting into you. Your hand squeezed his but you never told him to stop. The pain slowly turned into pleasure. Finally, the pleasure of being fucked. Each thrust was another wave of pleasure through you. It was confusing at first, like your mind couldn’t comprehend something this good. Your body could.

Johnny started picking up the pace when no sign of pain was present in your face. You stopped having control over your moans. You weren’t being loud like a porn star. It was more like you couldn’t fake it even if you tried.

Damn, that’s what I sound like?

He didn’t want to push it too far but he was so tempted to pound into you. It’s been so long and you honestly felt amazing. He loved looking down at you and watching your breasts jiggle every time he thrusted in. You squeezed so nicely around his cock. He was trying to hold himself back from getting rough and you could see that. You wouldn’t push your lucky but your body says otherwise. Hormones are crazy like that, they will yell at you to do anything to get the pleasure you need. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist. You looked into his eyes and you said something that seemed so out of character for you but was what you truly wanted.

“Please go harder.” You begged.

“Fuck, are you sure?” Trust me, Johnny wanted to but he was still worried about hurting you.

You whined and wrapped your legs even tighter around his waist which let him know you weren’t playing.

“Alright, I get it. Never would have expected you to be so needy.” He teased.

He’ll do you one better. How about a new position? Nothing crazy but you will like it. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs back before putting you into a mating press. And you thought he was already deep enough. Good thing you are surprisingly flexible.

You really do need to keep your legs open more. It felt amazing to you when Johnny started pounding into your pussy. This position made it easier to hit that sweet spot inside you which you didn’t even know about.

You could hear a wet, squishing sound coming from down there every time he pulled in and out. Not only that but there was also the sound of skin slapping every time he rammed into you. It turned you on even more. You know why? Cause that’s the sound of being fucked, honey!

Johnny had a nice view in front of him. Listening to you moan for him as he continues to fuck you. You make him feel young again. He still has it in him. The energy to have fun with a girl and make her moan. Fuck, he is so glad he is doing this now.

You would be thinking the same but all you could focus on was how big he was and how all of that was slamming into you. At this point why hide any of your moans. No one is around and this is your first time. You should have as much freedom as you want. Get the full experience. You were keeping your eyes closed out of embarrassment but that won’t last for long.

“Come on, open those pretty eyes for me. Can you do that just for me, gorgeous?” Johnny whispered to you.

When he says it like that how can you deny. You slowly opened your eyes to look up at him. Sure you were still embarrassed but you realize that it was just hotter this way. The connecting that the eyes make. You’ve never seen a man look at you in such a way. A look that makes you feel desirable. There might even be some affection behind it. Because Johnny does care for you. Even if this is a one time thing he wants you to have the best experience and walk away with no regrets. It’s working for you.

It was all so much. The sounds, the feelings, the connection, the intimacy is all getting to you. Your nails started scraping against his back lightly. Your toes curled and your legs shook a little. Your eyes almost rolled back and your moans grew louder. You were about to cum and Johnny could see that.

“You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum, pretty girl? Go ahead. Just keep looking at me.” He commanded.

You kept looking at Johnny as he slammed into your sweet spot again. This orgasm was better than the last one. It felt like a heat radiated through your body. All your worries came undone just like you. Like a knot just unraveling in your stomach. You looked at Johnny with half-lidded eyes as you let out breathy moans. Damn, he could have came right there on the spot but he was holding himself together.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it.” He teased before leaving some kisses on your face.

You knew Johnny would feel like a king after making you cum twice. He’s cocky like that. Ah, but you forgot. He hasn’t cum yet.

“You think you can go a little longer for me, baby? Just a little longer.” He asked to keep going so he can cum.

He didn’t wanna overstimulate you during your first time but it’s your call. You’re a trooper, you can go a little longer even though you are incredibly sensitive down there now. You nodded which made him smile.

He stopped pressing down on you which was a relief for your legs. He still kept them open. He started thrusting into you again, not as rough as when he had you in a mating press but it still felt great. He watched as his cock went in and out of your pussy. Your wetness coated the condom and it still made a wet sound. Oh how he wished he could just take it off and fuck you raw. Fell how warm you are and cum into that sweet pussy of yours. But that’s a stupid idea. One that young Johnny would make and he’s a better man than that. Still won’t stop him from thinking about it.

And that view of you, mwah! Watching your legs shake slightly from being overstimulated. Your hands gripping the sheets around you. Your breasts kept jiggling no matter how hard he pounded into you. He can see your eyes grow wet as you handle the sensations. All that combined with his little fantasy of cumming inside you sent him over the edge. One more thrust in and he was cursing softly as his cum filled the condom.

You both were left panting after that wonderful experience. Johnny pulled out and went to dispose of the condom. Damn there was a lot in there.

You were pretty exhausted but happy nonetheless. You don’t really know what you are supposed to do after. If you’re supposed to just put your clothes on and walk off as if what happened didn’t happen. That’s not how this goes. Not with Johnny.

He came back to you with a bottle of water in his hand. He went next to you and helped you sit up, placing his other hand on your back.

“You’re probably really exhausted after that. Here, drink this.” You gladly accepted the bottle of water, not even realizing how parched you were.

“So, what now? Do I just leave?” You asked which just proved to Johnny that it was best that he did it with you first.

“If a man ever told you to leave right after he’s an asshole. Don’t ever let a man do that to you. Come here.” Johnny pulled you close to him and made you lay down.

Your head laid on his chest which his arm was wrapped around you. He pulled the blankets over you to make sure you were comfy. His fingers ran through your hair which soothed you even more. This was incredibly nice. You didn’t realize how tired you were till he put you in this position. Your eyelids started to grow heavy and your breathing slowed down. There was only one thing left to say to him.

“Thank you…” You said softly.

You drifted off to sleep in his arms as he gave you a kiss on your forehead. Maybe Johnny was getting pretty old since he needed to sleep as well after that. He too started to fall asleep, happy to have a wonderful girl next to him again.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Cassie and Jacqui just came back from their little, or more like big, shopping trip. Cassie was about to call out to her dad till she saw your shoes at the entrance.

“Oh shit, she’s here?” She said.

She went around calling your name, surprised you weren’t out in plain sight. in fact, neither was her dad. She guessed that maybe you were upstairs in her room. Nope, not there either. Well if anything her dad had to be in his room or something. She knocked a few times but no answer. She just decided to open the door herself.

“Hey dad, do you have any idea where-“ Cassie stopped herself when you looked at the scene in front of her. Even Jacqui gasped out loud.

She slowly closed the door again, a shocked expression on her face. She looked at Jacqui who confirmed what they saw was true. Out of all of Cassie’s friends she would have never suspected you of sleeping with her father. She doesn’t even think you did it on purpose you’re not that kind of person. This was all so much and she could only mutter three words.

“What the fuck.”

After notes:🍊…🦊so like, you gonna pay rent or something? Do I gotta feed you? Fuck do you even eat? One of your comrades came crashing through the window this early morning. Who the fuck gonna pay for that? Ah, anyways. My daddy issues have come to say hi. Can’t tell if fucking Johnny will heal me or having him be a father figure to me will. Just need him to ruffle my hair and tell me my professors are the bitches not me. Hope y’all have a good day! Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #mk smut #mk11 johnny cage #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage mk11 #mk11

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surielstea · 4 months ago

Text

Nobody’s Soldier

Eris Week 2024, day 5: War

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Lieutenant!Reader

Summary: In which Reader and Eris spend their night before the war together going over battle plans, and distracting themselves from the bloodshed with other tactics.

A. Note: Sorry this is so short!! I wanted it to be longer but, It’s mostly smut anyway ;)

3.1k words.

I drew in a sharp breath as I stared down at the map of Prythian, pawns of eight different colors sprawled across it.

The seven courts all gathered on one side, and Hybern in stark black marching from the west.

I groaned, my head pounding as Eris and I went over strategies for the umpteenth time that night.

Eris wrapped his arms around my shoulders, hugging me from behind and pulling me into his chest. I melt into his touch, craning my neck back to look up at him. "Where will I and my squadron be sectioned?" I ask in a tired murmur.

Eris's brows bunch and he looks down at me. "You're not fighting in this war." He shakes his head. I pull away from him, turning around to face him with confusion etched along my face.

"What do you mean I'm not fighting in this war?" My lip curls slightly.

"I'm your general, and I'm commanding you to stay off the field, what's not to understand?" He arches a manicured brow and I scowl.

"Eris I'm a Lieutenant, one of your best fighters," I state. "You cannot take me out of this war simply because you wish to keep me safe." I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Yes, I can." He states, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And I will, selfish or not you are my mate and I will not allow you to put yourself in danger." He frowned, the expression making my gut twist.

I stare at him in disbelief. "I'm a soldier, it's my job to protect this court. You cannot seriously think to keep me from fighting in our wars." I protest, stepping forward, craning my neck up at him, and snarling.

"I'm not sending you out there just to risk losing you to some war that wasn't even ours to begin with." He matched my tone.

"But it is ours. It always has been. If Hybern wins this war do you think he'll have mercy on us? That he'll even remember us?" I narrow my eyes on him and he grits his teeth, his expression unwavering. He did not speak, but he did not falter either.

"Gods, Eris if I knew accepting the mating bond meant that you'd keep me from the battlefield then I never would have—" I begin to say, but I didn’t get the chance to finish because suddenly my wrists were pinned back against the wall and Eris was flush against me, baring his teeth.

"I'd advise you don't finish that sentence if you know what's best for you." He warned a low growl rumbling from his chest that sent shivers down my spine.

"I could save lives that would be lost if I wasn't there. Lives, Eris, your men." I persisted, my voice softer but not weak.

"And jeopardize yours in the process? Call me a selfish and blinded bastard if you want, but if you were to get hurt? It would destroy me." He confessed, his voice dropping into a more intimate, sacred place, one that he only let me hear.

"Then you cannot fight either," I mutter sourly, despite my heart aching to agree, to tell him I’d do whatever he wanted if it meant we could stop arguing.

He barks a laugh at that, the sound clipped and lacking the warm amusement his laughter often had. "I am the general, I am an heir, I must fight and it is not my choice." He explained, and even if I already knew, it hurt to hear that it was not up to him whether he fought or not. "But I can save you, I can keep you safe at the very least, that, that will always be my choice." He steels his features.

"You're such a hypocrite." I scowl.

"I don't care, you are to stay here where I know you will be safe and that is final." His voice did not waver, the male I was looking at was a future High Lord, the General of Autumn's armies.

"And if they siege on this tower and slit my throat before you even get the chance to return to me?" I suggest and his brows bunch as if the thought alone brought him more grief than he could stomach.

"Gods, my darling can't you just stop being stubborn, just this once?" He asked, his voice teetering on a pleading.

"No, because I cannot sit here locked in this tower while you're out there in danger," I say. "If you fall Eris," I swallow, struggling to get the words out. "If you fall and I'm not there to say goodbye one last time, I will never forgive you or myself." I knew he only was looking after my best interest and safety, but he needed to realize that this would tear me apart as much as it would to him if our roles were reversed.

"So please, if you cannot stay behind too, then let me come with you." I was not above begging, I would, and if he still didn’t permit me to join his forces I would find a way to fight beside him anyway.

He seemed to recognize that, and ever so slowly he closed his eyes and let out a deep heavy sigh, one of forfeit— and I know, that I’ve got him under lock and key. "On one condition." He seethes and I suppress the smirk on my face.

I simply raise a brow, waiting for him to go on.

"You stay away from the front lines, you do not go into the heat of the battle unless it's completely necessary." He pauses. "Your squadron's goal will be to maintain your safety, if you try to do some self-sacrificing bullshit they have permission to knock some damned sense into you, do you hear me?" He snarled, the General looking down his nose at me.

I let my wild grin form over my features. "Yes sir." I nod, biting into my lower lip and tugging at my wrists, which he still had pinned above my head.

"Swear it." He growled, not letting my arms loose until I did so and I rolled my eyes.

"I swear on the Mother Herself. I agree to your stupid requests, and will not step foot on the front lines or self-sacrifice." I grumble.

"Good." He removes his hold from my wrists and I immediately slither my hands around the nape of his neck. "You mean everything to me, I can't lose you." He said softly, wrapping his arms around my waist securely. I lay my head against his chest, hugging me tightly.

"I know, trust me, I know," I whisper, knowing I’d react far worse if I was in his position.

I silently absorb every detail of this moment, attempting to commit the warmth of his embrace to memory, the cinnamon and clove scent of him, the reassuring feeling of his muscular arms wrapped around me. But most importantly, the sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing. I don't know what I'd do if either of those things ever stopped. I tightened my arms around him at the thought.

Slowly, his hands run up my sides, past my shoulders and arms, and intertwine our fingers.

He silently pulls me to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and guiding me into his lap, straddling his hips. He looked at me with both fear and desire swirling in his amber irises, and reverence behind it. I smiled softly and cupped his face in my palms, remaining silent as I pressed gentle kisses down his jaw.

He moved, his lips connecting with my neck, his touch worshipping as he pulled me against him, holding me for a moment, taking solace in the warmth and comfort that bloomed when we touched.

He trails his lips down the column of my throat to my collarbone, he nips slightly at the skin, then sucked and bit and licked at it, leaving a purple mark on the area. “Having one more night with you before we leave for the camps is torture." He grunted against my freshly branded skin.

"Why’s that?" I ask, my hand going into his hair. His touch increased into a more urgent, possessive need.

"Because I could spend an eternity worshipping every bare inch of you, but I'm sanctioned only a night." He explained. "I plan to memorize you, every dip, every curve, every damned inch of you." He said softly against my skin and I smiled as his hands slipped beneath my nightgown, gripping the bare skin of my hips, and when he noticed I wasn’t wearing any undergarments he only smirked against my skin, biting at the love mark softly. “Gods, you’re good to me.” He groaned and I grinned, winding my hips over his.

He couldn’t quite contain himself anymore and flipped us over, my head falling into the pillows, legs falling open as he moved between them. He made quick work of my nightgown, pulling it off and discarding it onto the floor. "I want to burn the memory of you into my mind,” He professed, his mouth ravenous as he kissed down the valley of my breasts. “To be able to remember your scent,” He went on, my hand gripping his hair as he traveled further south. “Your touch,” His breath was hot against my lower abdomen as he neared where I craved him most. “Your taste." My mate purred, his tongue darting out and licking a long stripe from my entrance all the way to my clit.

"Eris," I gasped, my back arching as he attached his wicked mouth to that bundle of nerves, sucking on it.

"That’s what I want to remember most of all, the sound of you moaning my name,” He said, his words half a groan. “I never want to forget that." He pressed a gentle kiss to my pulsing cunt and my breath hitched. “You going to be good for me?” He asked and I nodded, eager to feel him. “Answer me,” He commanded.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured and his canines brushed over my folds, a low growl sounding from him in reaction to my obedience, and the nickname, it always sent him spiraling when I called him that.

He mercifully didn’t drag the foreplay on for much longer, his lips sealing around my clit while two of his fingers trailed around my entrance, dripping in my arousal before dipping in and stretching me out.

I mewled at the feeling, his name the only thing on my lips as he worked me up towards my release. He was going to be the death of me if he kept this up. His fingers curved inside of me, toying with that sweet spot that made my vision blur and my breath hitch. His tongue mimicked the movement of his hand and my legs jolted, a clear sign that my release was steadily approaching. How was he so damned good at that?

He chuckled darkly against my most sensitive area, the sound sending reverberations up my spine. “You already close, baby?” He taunted and I nodded, eager to reach that beckoning, all-consuming peak. “How adorable,” His teasing remark elicited a whine from me and I tugged at his hair, beyond words.

He returned to my neglected clit, his fingers still pumping in and out of me as I barreled towards my climax.

“Come on my tongue,” He said, an order from a General. His tone alone made me release a slew of moans, my back bowing into the mattress as I gripped his hair. He groaned at the feeling of me pulling on his fiery red locks.

“Eris,” His name was a prayer on my lips, like he was a damned God and only he could grant me the pleasure I so desperately desired. At the sound, he bit at my clit and I gasped, my hands loosening as my release crashes into me in rolling waves of pleasure, casting down my spine to my core where he helped me ride it out.

He pulled away after a few more swipes of his tongue through my stimulated folds. He kissed back up my stomach, through my breasts. Every kiss was deliberately made as if he couldn’t forget how each inch of my skin felt on his lips.

I fisted his hair and brought him up hurriedly, my lips crashing against his, tasting myself on him. "I want you engraved into me, permanently." He whispered and my heart melted at his dedication, his loyalty. “My girl,” He murmured softly and I knew he was only saying what was on his mind, too caught up in his thoughts to realize he was even speaking aloud.

“I’m yours,” I say, cupping his jaw. “And you’re mine,” I grin wildly. He nods, a love-drunk look on his face.

“Body and soul,” He agreed while leaning closer, capturing my lips in another fierce kiss. His hips rut down onto my glistening cunt and I groaned at the feeling of the clothed bulge in his pants rubbing against me. He takes advantage of the sound I make because it allows his tongue to slip into my mouth, hungrily exploring with it.

His hands roam my body, his touch claiming yet reverent. One of his hands comes to my hip, pinning it in place to stop my writhing while the other gropes my peaked breast, his thumb swiping over the sensitive bud.

“Eris,” I moan, my back forming a crescent as he grinds his hips over mine again. “Please, I need you inside of me,” I beg, my hands moving from his hair to his shoulders, muscles shifting under my touch as he adjusted, pulling his pants off and whatever was beneath them fervently.

I writhe but his hand tightens at my hip, fingers singing and digging into my soft skin. “Stay still for me, can you do that for me?” He asked and I nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur and he smiles down at me, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips, the touch so intimate.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, his cock aligning with my drenched cunt, dripping down onto his length.

“You alright?” He asks, his breath mingling with mine.

“Yes, please Eris make me feel good,” I consent and he smiles, all he needed to hear before he pushed the wide head of his cock into my cunt.

He groaned as I stretched around him, my elastic walls adjusting to his thick length. “Gods, you’re so tight baby,” He grunted through clenched teeth, attempting to reign in his composure and stop himself from ramming into me full force. “Taking me so well, atta girl,” He purred, pushing in deeper and deeper, and when I was certain I was full and couldn’t take any more, he pushed in one last inch. His face contorted into a mix of pleasure and restraint as he looked down at where we connected. My wet, puffy cunt wrapped around him so perfectly.

Ever so slowly, he began to move, his hips adjusting so he was pulling out and with each gentle thrust he would slowly go deeper, grow rougher until I was used to the stimulation and all my pain morphed into pure pleasure.

“Eris,” I mewled, my head tossing back into the pillows as I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming as he buried himself to the hilt inside of me, beginning to pound into me at a fast pace.

His abdomen contracts with every push and pull of his hips, his back flexing as I clawed my nails down it, leaving marks that he’d proudly display until they faded and he’d have me give them to him again.

His pace somehow increased into something animalistic, primal. His hand on my hip slithered up to my stomach, his palm splayed across the area and he gently, slowly pushed down.

I gasped as I felt him deeper, every ridge and vein of his length rubbing against my walls. I looked down, able to see exactly where he was inside of me as he continued pushing in and out of me. I moaned at the lewd sight, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I dug my nails into his porcelain skin.

“You see that?” He purrs, staring exactly at what I was. “That’s how deep I am inside of you, stretching you out so you fit me, and only me,” He said, his words claiming and possessive as he continued to mold me onto his cock so no other male could derive the same pleasure from me that he could, not that I’d ever want anyone else to. I mewled at the idea of only being able to receive pleasure from him, my general, my mate. No one else, not even my own fingers.

“You like that, baby?” He smiled, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “I do, Sir,” I nod with a pleasure drunken smile across my lips. His cock twitched as I clench around him, signaling that he was nearing his release.

“You close baby? I don’t know how much longer I can hold back,” He warned and I nodded, my hands going to the nape of his neck.

“I’m—” My legs jolt. “So close,” I gasp out, my breath hitching and gaze shuddering.

“Look at me, I want to watch while you unravel on my cock,” He said with a feral, untamed grin that sent me reeling.

With one last roll of his hips, I met my second release of many that night. My orgasm took me full throttle, my vision growing fuzzy as heat washed down me. I clench tightly around me as I find my undoing, spurring him into his own release, his warm cum seeping into my cunt and filling every crevice, pumping me full. He bit at my shoulder as he groaned, our separate ecstasies coming together, longing in the air between us as we both rode our highs, his hips still rutting into me, much slower and relaxed now.

He grunts as he pulls out, it took effort, I had been milking him dry with how tightly I was clenched around him.

He let out a sigh, our pants filling the silent room, the fire crackling in the hearth that he must’ve absentmindedly lit in the midst of his pleasure.

He sank into the mattress beside me, his movements slow yet still carrying so much power to them.

“Aren’t you going to clean me up?” I hum the teasing remark tiredly, flipping onto my side to face him.

“You think we’re done?” He arched a brow, his hand coming to my bare hip and pulling me over him so my legs were spread over his hip. “I have one more night with you until this war is over, you’re a fool if you think we’re spending any of it sleeping.”

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misshoneyimhome · 8 months ago

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500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

Making up after a break up I Nico Hischier*

Summary; Nico Hischier is undeniably a gifted hockey player. However, amidst the fame and great attention, he must remain grounded and attentive to those who love and support him.

Tropes & warnings; established relationship; break-up to make-up; Smut 18+; fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside;

Other notes; Please, don't ask me why reader always has to fight with Nico 🙈 I blame the prompts 🤍 I know, my so-called "angst" is just a poor as my summaries - nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this ❤️

Word count; 4.1K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny@justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

"I’m sorry, but it’s not like I can control it. It’s part of the job!" Nico's voice was louder than usual, his frustration evident as he stood in the spacious living room, fists clenched at his sides.

The atmosphere in your apartment was thick with tension, as your boyfriend, Nico Hischier, had just come home after the New Jersey Devils were eliminated in the first round of the playoffs. A game where you should have been there to comfort and support him, but tonight, all you felt was anger and frustration.

"Well, you don’t exactly have to encourage it either!" you shot back, your voice rising to match his. The argument was heated, and a part of you knew it was reaching a point where there was no going back. The faces of the women who constantly surrounded your boyfriend were still vivid in your mind, and you just couldn’t push them away and let it go.

"It's not my fault that you’re just jealous," Nico then retorted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you. You could sense how frustrated he was as well, and both of you sensed that this fight would not end well.

"Oh, I’m sorry that I love my boyfriend and want to spend time with him! Please excuse me for caring!" The words came out sharper than you intended, but you were beyond caring at this point. All the pent-up emotions of the past several months were pouring out, and everything was boiling over.

Your heartbeat quickened with every passing moment, coupled with a high pulse and tears pressing on, yet you were determined not to let them show. You were not going to let him win this.

But then the words Nico thought, but didn’t intend to speak, blurted out before he could stop them. "Well, maybe it would be a lot easier if I wasn’t your boyfriend then." His expression shifted, hardening.

The room fell into a stunned silence. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the space, leaving you both gasping for breath as the words hung between you, sharp and final.

"You really mean that?" you asked, your voice now lower and trembling. Despite the heat of the argument, something within you hoped he would take it back, say something to reassure you. But he just stood there, silent, and resolute. So, you took a deep breath, silently giving him another chance to say something, while a tear trailed down your cheek. "Fine," you then finally spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "If that's how you feel, then maybe we shouldn't be together."

Nico's eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, anger, sorrow, or maybe something else entirely. But still he said nothing, and that silence was more painful than any words could have been.

So, without another word said, you turned and walked to the bedroom, grabbing a bag, and stuffing it with whatever clothes and essentials you could find. You just needed to get out, to be anywhere but here.

And as you left the apartment, you glanced back at Nico one last time. But still he was just stood there, looking lost and defeated. But more importantly, he didn't stop you, and that hurt more than anything else.

The next few days were a blur of tears, anger, and regret. You replayed the fight in your head over and over, wondering how it had come to this. You had stood by Nico through everything—the gruelling travel schedule, the constant media attention, the physical toll of his sport. But the jealousy, the feeling of being second to his career and the women who flocked to him, had been too much.

You had tried to rationalise it. You knew Nico couldn't always help the attention he received. He was a professional athlete, a public figure after all, but the way he seemed to bask in it, the way he never turned it down—that had been the breaking point. You had wanted to feel special, to feel like you were the one who mattered most to him. Instead, you had felt like just another fan in the stands, easily replaceable. Like a groupie he’d occasionally sleep with – and even that, he didn’t do with you.

So, as you sat in your new, temporary home, staring at the blank walls, the realisation hit you. Despite the hurt and humiliation, despite how shattered you felt, you still loved him. And that was the most painful part of all.

But for now, you had to focus on picking up the pieces of your life. Maybe in time, things would change. Maybe Nico would come to his senses, or maybe you would find the strength to move on. Either way, you knew you had to find yourself again, to remember who you were without him, and only then could you decide what your future would hold.

The months following the breakup were incredibly tough. To be honest, they were horrible. It felt like your heart had been torn in two and clumsily put back together, yet the shattered glass left by the breakup couldn't be hidden. You had to live with the cracks in the foundation, hoping that over time, they’d slowly fade and become less painful. Or perhaps one day, you’d grow so accustomed to the pain that you wouldn’t feel it anymore.

The worst part, however, was that it was nearly impossible to avoid Nico, especially since your social circles overlapped so much. Friends' gatherings and small post-season team events turned into emotional minefields. Every encounter tested your resolve, challenging you to maintain the façade of being cool and collected. And as you tried your best to move on, Nico did the same, each of you masking your hurt with smiles and casual conversations.

Yet, every time you saw him, a pang of sadness struck you, which was even worse when you noticed the regret in his eyes, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, making it clear he was hurting too.

To your great luck though, during the rest of the off-season, Nico then went back to Switzerland, and you thought the distance might help you heal. However, to your own great surprise, his absence only made your heartache more pronounced. The reality of the breakup sank in deeper, and you spent many nights questioning your decision, wondering if things could have been different.

Meanwhile, Nico was undergoing his own transformation. Conversations with some of the other players and their partners opened his eyes to the truth he’d been avoiding. They told him about the worries you’d shared with them months before the breakup, how you’d tried to brush off your insecurities and jealousy but eventually couldn’t bear it any longer. And hearing this from others slowly made him realise just how much he’d taken your love and support for granted and how blind he’d been to your feelings.

One evening, after a particularly enlightening conversation with a teammate’s partner, Nico sat alone in his apartment, replaying the last few months in his mind. He knew he’d been enjoying the attention from the media and fans, perhaps a little too much, and the attention he’d received from women had gone to his head. All the flirtatious looks, the light touches on his arm as they complimented his play—it had made him feel invincible, more important than just a captain to his team, but it had also blinded him to what was truly important—you.

He remembered the countless nights you’d stayed up late to greet him after a game, the way you always had a kind word or a comforting touch, even when you were exhausted from your own long day. He thought about the times you’d been at his side during his high moments and the times you’d held him through the lows. And as he lay alone, letting the memories flood his mind, he realised he’d never reciprocated that level of devotion. He’d been so wrapped up in his career and the attention that came with it that he’d failed to see how it was affecting you.

So, in the weeks that followed, Nico found himself reaching out to friends and family for advice. He spoke to his parents, who reminded him of the values they had instilled in him—humility, respect, and gratitude. They encouraged him to think deeply about what he wanted in life and who he wanted to share it with.

And back in New Jersey, you were on your own journey of self-discovery. You reconnected with old friends, picked up hobbies you had abandoned, and spent time reflecting on what you wanted from a relationship.

Then as summer slowly turned to autumn, you found yourself feeling stronger and more centred. You began to enjoy your own company and rediscovered passions that had been side-lined during your time with Nico. And while the pain of the breakup still lingered, it no longer dominated your every thought.

It all seemed to be going just well, but with the new season just around the corner, the team had organised a big event with partners to celebrate. And naturally, you were invited.

You hesitated at first, unsure if you were ready to face Nico in such a social setting – and single. But after some encouragement from your best friends, you decided to attend. So, you dressed carefully, wanting to look your best and show that you were doing just fine, even if your heart still ached at the thought of him.

The venue was buzzing with excitement, filled with the familiar faces of the team and their partners, all laughing and chatting. With a drink in your hand for comfort, you did your best to mingle and immerse yourself in the event, though it was hard to ignore the knot in your stomach. Especially when you saw Nico walk in with a date, casing your heart to sink. Yet, you forced a smile, determined not to let it ruin your evening.

You tried to act mature and collected, however, you still spent most of the night avoiding him, keeping to the far side of the room whenever he was near. You focused on chatting with friends, laughing at their jokes, and even indulging in a few more drinks to steady your nerves. But as the night slowly wore on, fate had other plans. And as you stepped into the hallway to catch your breath from the loud, wonderful atmosphere, you nearly collided with Nico, coming face close to his chest.

"Oh, hey," he said, looking as surprised as you felt.

"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady as you stood up straight.

There was an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words between you, with only the cheerful noises of the event in the background humming. But then finally, Nico broke the silence.

"How have you been?" His voice was low and timid, yet you sensed the emotions he was trying to hide.

"Alright, I suppose," you said softly, trying your best not to let the stirring sensation within you surface. But as he just stood there, saying nothing else, and you noticed his date chatting with Timo in the background, you couldn’t help but let out a comment. "But apparently not as good as you…"

Nico immediately caught the direction of your eyes, turned for a brief moment before looking back at you. And it seemed as if that had pushed a button within him.

"Come on, Y/N… I know I said the final words, but you wanted to break up with me," he said, his voice tinged with frustration, as his eyes starred directly into yours.

"Yes, because I was mad at you, not because I stopped loving you,” you said, more firmly than intended, crossing your arms defensively. The words came out quickly and before you could stop them, your emotions almost bubbling to the surface.

"What?" Nico's eyes widened, a small flicker of hope in his gaze. “You still love me?”

You were slightly baffled by his question.

"Of course, I still love you..." you then replied, your voice softening as you let out a deep sigh, though unable to hold back the tear welling in the corner of your eye. “Nico, all I wanted was for you to love me… to show me you cared…”

“But I do care,” he quickly responded, almost blurting it out reflexively. Nico just couldn’t hide the fact that he’d been missing you deeply, despite his best efforts through the night. “Y/N, I love you more than anyone… none of them matter to me… I swear…”

And it was in that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. As you both stood there, you slowly came to realise that the feelings between you had never really disappeared.

But with the defensive walls you’d built over the past couple of months, you tried to walk away to gather your thoughts. You didn’t want to allow yourself to be vulnerable, risking get hurt all over again. However, Nico was quick and grabbed your hand, pulling you back towards him.

And before you could react, his lips were on yours, the kiss passionate and intense.

You tried to push him away, anger still lingering from the past within. But Nico's grip just tightened, pulling you closer to him. And as much as you wanted to resist the temptation, you couldn't deny how much you had missed him. So, with a sigh, you simply surrendered to the kiss.

You felt a flood of emotions as the kiss deepened, all the hurt and longing pouring out. It was just like coming home after being lost for so long, feelings of warmth and comfort embracing you. And when you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, staring at each other with a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Come with me," Nico whispered against your lips, your breaths mixing in the small space between you.

“What about your date?” you asked under your breath, still gasping for air.

But Nico just curved a little smirk at the corner of his lips. “Doesn’t matter – Timo can show her out… you’re more important now…”

And you couldn’t help but simply nod, your heart pounding as you stood so closely with the man, you’d long believed to be the love of your life. “Alright…”

“Let’s get out of here then.”

Nico didn’t even let you breathe and respond to his suggestion. Instead, you both just quickly excused yourselves from the event, following his footsteps out into the cool night air and swiftly into his car. The ride to his place was a blur, both of you eager to be alone as the magnetic force between only grew stronger and more intense by the second. And as soon as you walked through the door to the apartment you once called home, he quickly pulled you into another fervent kiss, his hands roaming your body, desperate to make up for lost time.

And you were equally eager to feel Nico against you. Everything about him felt like comfort and home - his touch so familiar, and the connection between you natural and effortless. So, neither of you wasted any time, your hands moving under each other's clothing, eager to undress and let your skin touch.

Though you had done this so many times in the past, tonight felt different. It was as if you’d fallen in love anew, and this was the first time you were allowing yourselves to feel each other. Yet, everything went by pure instinct. Both of you knew exactly which buttons to push, and before long, you were back in sync; Nico’s lips were attached to yours at all times as you both climbed under the sheets into missionary position, consumed by lust and desire, exploring each other.

And while engaged in a heated kiss, your tongues dancing with one another, your hand found his hardening member, stroking it gently to get it fully hard and ready. Meanwhile, Nico’s skilled fingers found their way to your core, gently caressing your folds and sensitive flesh as he alternated between paying attention to your clit and delicately probing your entrance.

Soft moans escaped you both, humming into the kiss and letting out deep breaths when you needed to part to regain air. The room was hot, filled with the smell of sex, and despite how good the gentle touch of his hand felt, you craved more. And fortunately, Nico didn’t keep you waiting long.

“Oh yes,” you breathed out as he eased two fingers inside you, gently stretching and massaging your walls. It was just as you remembered, the curve of his thick fingers easily seeking out your sensitive spot as he pumped them in and out. And as you felt the pleasure starting to build within you, your hands instinctively sought the back of his shoulders to grab on to for support.

Yet, it still wasn’t enough. Though Nico was skilled with his fingers, there was something you desired more. “Nico, baby… I want…” you moaned softly under your breath, letting the pleasure slowly consume your mind. “I want you inside me.”

However, as much Nico felt his cock pulsating, in desperate need of release, he also wanted to make sure you felt so good before he gave in to his own desires. Just like he always did.

So, leaning in closely to your face, his breath so near your ear you could feel the shiver it sent down your spine, he spoke huskily, “Let me make you come first.”

And you couldn’t say no to that.

So, letting him work his magic, you simply allowed yourself to relax into the mattress, your hands still holding tightly onto his shoulders as he increased the speed of his pumps. And at this point, you simply stopped holding back your noises, letting the pleasure take over and closing your eyes as he pushed you closer to the brink of climax.

“Fuck baby… missed your moans so much,” Nico complimented, his eyes intensely watching you squirm and whimper under his touch, your core getting wetter with each motion.

“Mmm yes…” was all you could moan, as the orgasm approached, your toes curling as your mind became hazier.

And as soon as Nico felt your muscles clenching around his fingers, he knew you were close. Knowing just how to bring you to that blissful peak, he scissored his digits at just the right angles, causing you to let out a louder moan and your body to lightly tremble.

"Fuck yes!" you gasped for air as the climax took over. Your walls tightened, sending your mind into a high, your juices spraying just enough to cover Nico’s fingers and hand as you arched your back, savouring the moment the orgasm took hold.

It felt nothing short of amazing. And despite Nico having done this so many times before, this felt heavenly, almost like a drug you’d been addicted to, gone through rehab, and now were back reaching the high you’d been longing for.

And as you lay there, slowly coming down from the high Nico had caused you, you couldn’t help but smile. "Oh… how I missed your touch," you almost cried, a whimper of pleasure escaping as you let out a deep breath.

Leaning over to place a tender kiss on your lips, Nico let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, I’ve missed playing with your body as well, baby..."

There was a momentary pause as he delicately withdrew his fingers, allowing your centre to relax. But with his pulsating cock proudly hard and eager, Nico wasted little time before gently guiding the tip against your entrance and effortlessly sliding himself inside you.

"Oh, yes..." he moaned deeply, savouring the comforting warmth of your inner walls, embracing him snugly as he gradually delved deeper into your depths.

Nico was convinced that your bodies were made for each other. Always had been and always would be. No woman before you had ever felt so seamlessly connected to his own, and he couldn’t imagine sharing this intimacy with any other woman in the future.

Though the position was simple, your bodies moved in harmony, his hips meeting yours with each thrust as moans reverberated and pearls of sweat formed on your skin. There was simply no greater pleasure than this reunion, where heartfelt emotions flowed freely after being pent up for so long.

And when you timidly suggested a change in position, indicating a desire to be on top, Nico swiftly flipped you both over, bodies still intertwined as you established a steady rhythm, rolling your hips as you rode him towards his own climax.

It was sheer perfection. Your hands instinctively found their place on his muscular chest for support, while his palms rested on your hips, gently guiding your movements to increase the pace slightly. And you complied willingly. Sensing your second orgasm approaching, you eagerly quickened your pace, releasing intense, deep breaths as you pressed your knees into the mattress, driving your movements with determination.

And Nico was nearing his peak as well. The tightness around his eager shaft, combined with the sight of your naked form above him and the melody of your moans, propelled him closer with each passing moment. Then acting on pure instinct, he swiftly pulled himself up to a sitting position, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss while his hand found its way into your hair, maintaining a firm grip around your neck. Pressing his forehead against yours, he held your face close to his, sharing breaths as his eyes locked onto yours.

"Never letting you go again... ever..." he growled softly, his climax imminent.

And equally on the edge, you responded with a simple vow. "Never..." you murmured, your hands returning to his shoulders for support as you maintained the intense rhythm.

With his other hand bracing behind him to steady himself, Nico instinctively tilted his hips upward slightly, just enough to stimulate your G-spot and draw a soft whimper of pleasure from you.

"Yes, oh yes... Nico... I'm gonna... gonna come..." you cried softly; your eyes almost unable to stay open as you rocked each other's worlds.

"Ja, schätzi... come for me... come with me now!" he urged, his voice filled with passion.

And it didn’t take much longer for both of you to unleash deep, resounding moans, waves of pleasure engulfing you as you soared into ecstasy together. Like often before, Nico released his cum into your depths, your walls eagerly tightening around his sensitive member, as your juices blended. It was perhaps the most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced, fuelled by the fiery passion and longing for Nico’s touch once more.

As the pent-up tension, anger, and frustrations from months past finally dissipated, you allowed yourselves to remain connected, slowly descending from the peak of ecstasy. It took a moment, the intensity lingering as both of you were deeply overwhelmed, and only gradually regaining control of your breath, your lungs filled with air and your minds cleared, your gaze met in a somewhat hazy stare, and a smile of pure bliss creeping onto your lips.

It was an exquisite sensation. Even as you slowly disentangled yourselves, a sense of euphoria enveloped you, finding solace in the pillow beneath your head as Nico did the same. For several minutes, your eyes remained locked, no words exchanged, the intensity of your passion simply speaking volumes.

And after the fervent lovemaking, you found yourself nestled in his arms, your head resting against his chest, right where you belonged. For the first time in a while, a sense of tranquillity washed over you, while Nico's fingers gently traced patterns on your skin, a serene smile gracing his lips.

"Nico," you then softly broke the comfortable silence. "Are you sure this is what you want?" you asked tentatively, needing reassurance. “To get back together…”

But Nico had no doubts. Feeling your presence again was something he had yearned for deeply, and now, he was determined never to risk losing you ever again. "More than anything," he replied earnestly, his voice brimming with sincerity. "I know I messed up before, but I won't make that mistake again. I love you, and I want us to be together."

And as you looked up at him, you only saw truth in his eyes. "I love you too, Nico. And I want us to be together as well, but we need to work on this, to make sure we don't fall into the same patterns."

He gently nodded. "I know. We'll take it one step at a time. But I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this right."

And as you snuggled closer, you felt a sense of hope. The road ahead wouldn't necessarily be easy, but for the first time in a while, you felt like you were on the right path. And with Nico by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way.

#500 followers festival #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction

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krispycreamcake · 5 months ago

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The Sakamakis perfect match in: Game night

From author: This is a new series I'll be doing where I pair up the Sakamakis with their perfect partner for specific scenarios, so if you have any asks, feel free to send!

Shu Sakamaki

🎻- Frankly, Shu is a lazy man child whose only purpose on earth is to drive you up a wall

🎻- He needs someone competent that can carry your team for the BOTH of you because God knows he won't

🎻- Shu finds that getting a reaction out of you far more interesting than the game itself

🎻- So let's say you're playing Uno, he has five +4 cards up his ass and he's only willing to spend them on either you or Reiji

🎻- The truth is, when you're good at everything, no challenge is ever truly a challenge and that makes life soooo boring especially if you're immortal

🎻- Anyways, Shu would be best matched with someone that would try their best at any given game, especially if they're competitive

🎻- He also needs someone that's a major crash out and tweaks tf out when he ruins the game for them

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️- Reiji definitely needs a team player

☕️- He needs someone strategic and communicative so they can conspire together on ways to win

☕️- Here's a hint, he's open to blatant cheating if you do it in such a way that it doesn't technically count, except it so does

☕️- For example, you're all playing Monopoly. You offer to buy Ayato's property in exchange for yours except you KNOW that it's in between both of Reiji's properties, and the chances of him landing are extremely high and you and Reiji are in kahoots together so you both split the profits

☕️- See that's not technically cheating, that's playing smart

☕️- Reiji's best match would be someone who's competitive but also cunning. Ooh and never let him feel like you're the one in charge, he'll go crazy

Ayato Sakamaki

🏀- Well uh

🏀- He would want someone as arrogant and competitive as him, but is that what he needs? Absolutely not

🏀- Ayato needs someone level headed that can help balance out their team dynamic in order to win

🏀- He needs someone that'll see the flaws in his mistakes and take accountability for HIM because I have no idea if you could even convince him he even made a mistake in the first place

🏀- In short, Ayato needs someone to save that burning ship he's on

🏀- You need to be in control without specifically admitting you're in control, you need to be sneaky about it and make it seem like HE'S the one who came up with those ideas

🏀- The best example I can think of is when you're playing pictionary, you whisper something REALLY close to what the actual thing is and have him come up with the answer himself

Laito Sakamaki

🃏- Laito's best match would be someone who's a bit laid back and playful

🃏- While we all know Laito's extremely smart and can read people well, we need someone to bring out that side of him rather than takeover and never have him put his skills to use

🃏- He needs someone that'll force him to take the lead otherwise everything would just be a big joke to him and unless it's a game he likes, he genuinely does not care

🃏- You need to kind of be a Shu in this case

🃏- What I mean by this is, you need to tease him a bit, make him feel just the inciest bit insecure about his game skills. Tease him, make jabs at him, play mindlessly into the opponent's hands

🃏- Hmm this example would best describe what I mean. Imagine you're playing a game of Ludo and you roll a six and instead of moving your piece out of the way before it gets "eaten", you choose the option to unlock another of your pieces to the game. He goes nuts after your like 3rd time of this and subtly starts giving advice despite cussing you out in his mind

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸- Someone patient for sure but also extremely determined

🧸- You need to essentially gentle parent him to the finish line

🧸- Don't get mad at him when he makes a dumb move but let him scold you because you did

🧸- Kanato would work well with someone that's headstrong and has a clear view of victory. He needs someone he can trash talk the other players to, regardless if they're his brothers or not

🧸- Aside from him being batshit insane, he'd be a fun person to play with. He's smart and calculated in the emotional aspect of the game and he can read his players really well

🧸- He knowsss how to get under their skin and might even have a freak out if someone calls him out. Of course none of it is real, but what the others said DID hurt his feelings (just maybe not to that extent truthfully)

🧸- Kanato would work well with someone willing to put up with his antics, someone who's patient and well versed in the game they're playing

🧸- The only example for this scenario I can think of is imagine you guys are playing checkers or chess and Kanato stands behind you while outwardly critiquing your opponent's every flaw and making disappointed noises and distracting them purposely

Subaru Sakamaki

🥀- Similar to Kanato, he needs someone patient

🥀- Obviously his anger will be an issue, but you also need to be smart to be able to point out the flaws in his moves and communicate to him ways to win

🥀- See Subaru would pair great with someone that can tell him what to do clearly and precisely

🥀- You need to be the brains to his brawns, you need to think and act quickly

🥀- You also need to shit talk his brothers with him

🥀- Maybe they made a stupid move, why not try lightening the mood with some loud whispering about them

🥀- Subaru would act like he doesn't like the idea of game night, but by the time he has the dice in his hand, he's folded. And because of this, he needs someone that can have fun with him

🥀- He needs someone playful but yet a person that can lock in at any given moment

🥀- Even if you guys don't win, he'll make a comment on how fun it was in the end

🥀- Example wise, I can honestly only think of you guys playing Snakes and Ladders and you shake the desk while the dice rolls to give someone the exact number they need to get eaten by a snake and he's just in the background backing you up and vouching for you that you didn't do it, meanwhile he's trying so hard not to laugh his ass off

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offtorivendell · 2 months ago

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What if the eight-pointed star is a symbol of so much more than the Starborn; on Wyrd, Chaos, the Cauldron and the Archeron sisters...

Disclaimer: this post is just a theory and makes no claims of being canon. These thoughts are definitely not unique at this point in time - I'll link to existing posts where relevant - but I had both a moment and the motivation to get my thoughts down, so here we are lol. Also, I am aware that the bigger stars in the gif above have more than eight points but as it's very pretty, has crescent moons and little motifs with three tear drops each... it stays. A massive thank you, as usual, to @wingedblooms for always being up for some theorising. 💜

Spoilers: the entire Maasverse is fair game, be careful if you're not up to date.

The eight-pointed star is a symbol that exists across the entire Maasverse, in Erilea, Prythian, Midgard.

Erilea:

The High Priestess walked onto the stone platform and raised her hands above her head. The folds of her midnight-blue gossamer robe fell around her, and her white hair was long and unbound. An eight-pointed star was tattooed upon her brow in a shade of blue that matched her gown, its sharp lines extending to her hairline. “Welcome all, and may the blessings of the Goddess and all her gods be upon you.” Her voice echoed across the chamber to reach even those in the back. - TOG, chapter 37

Prythian:

There, dead in the center of the Illyrian tattoo snaking down his spine, a new tattoo had appeared. An eight-pointed star, whose compass points radiated in sharp lines across and up the groove of his back, twining with the Illyrian markings long inked there. The eastern and western points of the star shot right onto his wings, black blending into black. A matching one, he knew, would be on Nesta’s spine. - ACOSF, chapter 12

Midgard:

Ruhn held out his phone, the picture of the illuminated manuscript glaringly bright in the thick shadows. The illustration of the carved horn lifted to the lips of a helmeted Fae male was as pristine as it had been when inked millennia ago. Above the figure gleamed an eight-pointed star, the emblem of the Starborn. - HOEAB, chapter 21

“You first.” “Not a chance. I want to hear how you hid the fact that you’ve got a star inside you.” He looked down at her chest then, as if he’d glimpse it shimmering beneath her skin. But when his eyebrows flicked upward, Bryce followed his line of sight. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s new.” Indeed, just visible down the V-neck of her T-shirt, a white splotch—an eight-pointed star—now scarred the place between her breasts. - HOEAB, chapter 95

Bryce has told us that she thinks it's the symbol of the Starborn, but I think it could go much deeper - all the way down to Wyrd/Urd.

She found nothing but open curiosity on Nesta’s face. Nesta said, “The scar your light comes from … it’s shaped like an eight-pointed star. Why?” Bryce peered at where the light was muffled by her T-shirt. “It’s the symbol of the Starborn, I think.” “And the magic marked you in this way?” “Yes. When I … revealed who I was, what I am, to the world, I drew the star out of my chest. It left that scar in its wake.” She glanced to Azriel. “Like a burn.” - HOFAS, chapter 12

As @wingedblooms said in her amazing meta earlier this year, she, @silverlinedeyes and I all think that Urd - who we now know is Wyrd - could be Chaos.

In addition to being significant to the Starborn fae within the Maasverse, the eight-pointed star is also known as a compass rose - or rose of the wind - as @wingedblooms has previously discussed. So isn't it suss that 'The Elain' ship (as pictured below, in the ACOTAR colouring book - far right) has what could be an eight pointed star on its sail? One with empty space - as in void of anything - on either side?

In addition to her thoughts about the compass rose, @wingedblooms has previously discussed how SJM's use of the eight-pointed star could also be inspired by the star of Ishtar. Wingedblooms made great points as usual - so I won't rehash them - BUT I have wanted to add for ages that there is also an eight-pointed star called "the Chaos star." 👀

Is the eight-pointed star a symbol of Chaos?

Source.

Aidas told us in HOEAB that it was the Void who sired the Princes of Hel, and Chaos was their dam. While the Chaos star as a symbol of Chaos began its life in a completely separate work of fiction, it has - apparently - been adopted by other authors and fandoms, so there's always the possibility that SJM might be one of those who has done/will do that.

I think it's interesting that after Bryce and co found Helena's cave under Avallen and dream-travelled to Hel, they wound up in the Temple of Chaos, by boat.

“The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. - HOFAS, chapter 59

Each of the Archeron sisters had a ship named for her (as above). Word and Wyrd are homophones of each other, though I may be clowning with the latter point. Ramiel means "thunder of god" - we'll come back to that later - but Apollion's words "rumbled like thunder"... was SJM linking Wyrd and thunder, or Ramiel, here? Will the Archeron sisters travel by boat - sail the Void - to meet, or free, Chaos?

Pushing aside every raging thought and question for the moment, Hunt kept one eye on the exit behind them as they traded the pebbled shore for the smooth temple steps. As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. - HOFAS, chapter 59

But he tried to at least look like it—back straight, shoulders squared—as he and Hypaxia stood before the Under-King in a gray-stoned temple to Urd. The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos. - HOFAS, chapter 81

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” - HOFAS, chapter 81

That "unusual depiction" of Urd in the Bone Quarter sounds eerily similar to the statues in the corridor leading to the library under the House of Wind, as well as the statue of the primal goddess that Nesta found in the same house - the one by which she placed Elain's carved wooden rose.

It's almost like a mix of the two.

“Because the books were full of magic, and things they wanted to keep humans from knowing.” Rhys slid his hands into his pockets, leading me down a corridor lit only by bowls of faelight upraised in the hands of beautiful female statues, their forms High Fae and faerie alike. “The scholars and librarians refused to keep slaves of their own—some for personal reasons, but mainly because they didn’t want them accessing the books and archives.” - ACOWAR, chapter 20

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. - ACOSF, chapter 56

The Cauldron... the court of thorns and roses?

We now know that Urd is none other than Wyrd, from Erilea - a cauldron of life that is "brimming with the language of creation" (which fits with my theory that Elain might Sing Wyrd, as the language of the universe, through the murky void to See as a parallel to the priestesses in Prythian requiring darkness to commune with the Cauldron), and a force that governs worlds. One with many forms - "high fae and faerie alike"?

Could Chaos actually be Wyrd, given the similarities Hunt noted between the temples of Urd and Chaos?

Chaos the Dam?

The Mother?

But why the notable lack of tattoos - Wyrdmarks? - in the statues at the House of Wind's temple to the Mother, or on the Cauldron itself?

The Cauldron was absence and presence. Darkness and … whatever the darkness had come from. But not life. Not joy or light or hope. It was perhaps the size of a bathtub, forged of dark iron, its three legs—those three legs the king had ransacked those temples to find—crafted like creeping branches covered in thorns. I had never seen something so hideous—and alluring. Mor’s face had drained of color. “Hurry,” she said to me. “We’ve got a few minutes.” - ACOMAF, chapter 62

Could that be the influence of the Daglan/Asteri when they warped the Cauldron so long ago? Wyrd, and Her marks, were removed in the process?

“Unless … ” The boy bounced each finger off his thumb, his hand like some pale, twitchy insect. “Long ago, before the High Fae, before man, there was a Cauldron … They say all the magic was contained inside it, that the world was born in it. But it fell into the wrong hands. And great and horrible things were done with it. Things were forged with it. Such wicked things that the Cauldron was eventually stolen back at great cost. It could not be destroyed, for it had Made all things, and if it were broken, then life would cease to be. So it was hidden. And forgotten. Only with that Cauldron could something that is dead be reforged like that.” - ACOMAF, chapter 18

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. Not a useful weapon, then. Bryce braced herself as Silene continued. The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. - HOFAS, chapter 19

And isn't it interesting that Papa Archeron carved the aforementioned rose for Elain - out of a dark, heavy wood that a few of us have wondered was ironwood (just like the bed on which each of the Archeron sisters was born) - while the legs of the Mother's iron Cauldron were covered in thorns?

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.” - ACOSF, chapter 55

In yet another of her brilliant posts, @wingedblooms theorised that the Cauldron might represent the flower of life; roses* are obviously a flower (shh), so the imagery of the Cauldron being an iron rose on a thorny pedestal is, quite possibly, significant. One of the definitions of the word "court" is "a sovereign's residence." Has the series title "A Court of Thorns and Roses" been referring to the Cauldron all along?!

* Posts involving roses and rose imagery pertaining to Elain are here, here, here and here.

The Ouroboros and Ramiel's black monolith - the "seat" of Wyrd/Chaos?

But let's get back on topic. I have theorised in the past that the Dusk Court - which we now know are the Starborn Fae - may have had four items, or four treasures, similar to the Tuatha de Danann of Irish mythology (my first Dusk Court post leaned heavily into that association).

I suggested that they may have been paired as:

Dagda's Cauldron/The Undry - the Veritas

Spear of Destiny/Spear of Lugh - Narben

Sword of Light/Claiomh Solais - Gwydion

The Stone of Kings/Lia Fail - the Ouroboros

Fragarach - Truth-Teller (as a bonus)

@merymoonbeam has also posted about her own take on the four treasures of the Tuatha de Danann; we agree about the Spear of Lugh and the sword of light, but diverged with Dagda's Cauldron - she suggested it may have been the Cauldron, and I agree that makes sense as well - and the Lia Fail, which she theorised was the stone on top of Ramiel (again, a solid choice that makes sense). Now, I know that the Ouroboros might seem like an odd choice as an in-universe stone of kings, but if you read my four treasures post I still think it fits... but it's not a stone. And Mery's thoughts about the Lia Fail fit, too. Both options made sense to me.

Which brings me back to HOFAS.

As others have suggested already, this sounds like the same black stone monolith that Cassian flew by in ACOFAS.

The conifer forests and ravines that dotted the landscape flowing to Ramiel’s foot gleamed under fresh snow. Empty and clean. No sign of the bloodshed that would occur come the start of spring. The mountain neared, mighty and endless, so wide that he might as well have been a mayfly in the wind. Cassian soared toward Ramiel’s southern face, rising high enough to catch a glimpse of the shining black stone jutting from its top. Who had put that stone atop the peak, he didn’t know, either. Legend said it had existed before the Night Court formed, before the Illyrians migrated from the Myrmidons, before humans had even walked the earth. Even with the fresh snow crusting Ramiel, none had touched the pillar of stone. A thrill, icy and yet not unwelcome, flooded his veins. It was rare for anyone in the Blood Rite to make it to the monolith. - ACOFAS, chapter 3

* A quick aside: conifer forests and ravines surround Ramiel; who smells like night-chilled mist and cedar, and may be associated with/related to Thanatos, the prince of the Ravine? Azriel!

In @wingedblooms brilliant post about Ramiel as the heart of the Night Court, she wondered if the black monolith and Cauldron together may have been a complete depiction of Wyrd, and then something clicked (and now I'm finally getting to the point lol, sorry for the wait); what if the black stone and the Ouroboros were combined as the Lia Fail/Stone of Kings? Or Wyrd/Chaos (as the Queen)? If the Cauldron is the "court" (residence) of Wyrd, and it once "sat" at the base of the black stone Monolith as @wingedblooms suggested, it checks out.

And there, against the far wall of the chamber, snow crusting its surface, its bronze casing … The Ouroboros. It was a massive, round disc—as tall as I was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail. Ending and beginning. From across the room, with the snow … I could not see it. What lay within. I forced myself to take a step forward. Another. The mirror itself was black as night—yet … wholly clear. [...] Up close, the surface of the Ouroboros was like a gray, calm sea. Undisturbed. Sleeping. - ACOWAR, chapter 68

So now we have a black monolith as a (hypothetical) statue of Wyrd, with the Ouroboros being held high above Her head... sound familiar?

But wait, there's (possibly) more...

Despite the plush furniture, the room definitely belonged to a witch: a small crystal altar to Cthona adorned the eastern wall, covered in various tools of worship; a large obsidian scrying mirror hung above it; and the fireplace built into the southern wall had various iron arms, presumably to hold cauldrons during spells. A royal suite, yes, but a workroom as well. - HOSAB, chapter 56

Ithan crossed his arms. On the desk itself sat a statuette of Cthona, carved from black stone. In one arm the goddess cradled an infant to her bare breast. In the other, she extended an orb—Midgard—out into the room. Cthona, birther of worlds. He touched it idly, gathering his courage. - HOFAS, chapter 13

Ithan was carefully setting down a figurine of Cthona giving birth on all fours—the planet Midgard crowning between her legs—when Jesiba’s phone rang. The shrill sound shattered the silence, but Ithan’s sunball reflexes kept him from dropping the fragile marble. - HOFAS, chapter 44

Could the Ouroboros represent the moon associated with the priestesses of the Mother? I mean it's big and round, and I'm a simple person haha. Was there ever a temple to Wyrd/Chaos on - or underneath - Ramiel? Does the black stone monolith represent the goddess/Wyrd, the Ouroboros the moon and the Cauldron the world to which she's giving birth? If black stone/obsidian attracts the princes of Hel, is that because obsidian is a stand in for Void and they are themselves a mixture of Void and Chaos? Is black stone used to depict Wyrd/Chaos because it acknowledges that She is attracted* to the Void? And the Ouroboros, which I have previously thought could be a portal (and hey, it's taller than Feyre, so tall enough), and @wingedblooms theorised it may be a mirror of witch glass... it seems intentional.

* This imagery reminds me of the Embrace of Solas and Cthona.

Sailing the Void

In my post about The Weaver's Song, I theorised that it might be a prophecy suggesting that the three Archeron sisters may sing, or "sail" (for lack of a better term haha) the bat brothers through the Void, either figuratively or (I hope!) literally. Either to Hel or to some other place - I would scream if it's Erilea, as @psychologynerd has theorised for Elain - but ultimately, wherever they go, I think it will be with the goal of finding and freeing Wyrd from whatever (hypothetically) binds Her, thus purifying Her and the Cauldron from the corruption of the Daglan/Asteri.

Which, speaking of, could the Asteri/Daglan have bound Wyrd with wyrdstone as like calls to like? Or did they use a crystal prism - like the one Bryce found in the Autumn King's study - to split Her light into its many facets and bind - tether - each to something or one? Did they create an anti rainbow with wyrdstone to split Wyrd apart, weakening Her?

With a sharp inhale, Bryce rallied her magic. On the exhale, she sent a stream of her starlight into the prism, her power faster than ever before. Starlight hit the prism, passed through it, and— “Huh.” It wasn’t a rainbow that emerged from the other side. Not even close. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing: a gradient beam of starlight. Where the rainbow would have been full of color, this one began in shimmering white light and descended into shadow. An anti-rainbow, as it were. Light falling into darkness, droplets of starlight raining from the highest beam into the shadowy band at the bottom, devoured by the darkness below. Like the fading light of day—of dusk. What did it mean? She was pretty sure her light had been pure before, but now, with Silene’s power mixed in … there was darkness there, too. Hidden beneath. - HOFAS, chapter 39

I've previously spoken about the need for balance to be restored to the universe, and that something may be preventing light (Chaos?) from flowing freely through the Void. If this is true, and it stems from the Asteri's corrupting efforts, it would make sense that purifying their influence on the Mother and Cauldron - who we now know is Wyrd - would help to heal the land, by unchaining the magic, as Feyre hinted in ACOMAF (and @wingedblooms has discussed extensively).

I shivered, craving the moderate winter of Velaris, wondering how it could be so temperate in the far north, but … everything in Prythian was strange. Perhaps when the wall hadn’t existed, when magic had flowed freely between realms, the seasonal differences hadn’t been so vast. - ACOMAF, chapter 23

I have more thoughts on this but I'm getting off track, hopefully I'll post them soon.

I've already discussed the possible significance of 'The Elain' ship flying a sail with the compass rose, or rose of the winds - an eight-pointed star - with nothing (void) on either side. I think it's interesting that 'The Feyre' flies two crescent moons and two diamond-type symbols that represent some of the (hypothetical) wyrdmarks on Wyrd's arms as depicted on the cover of HOFAS, and that 'The Nesta' flies a sail with a dragon and two suns, possibly referring to the dragon Ariadne from HOSAB (in Greek mythology, Ariadne was heavily associated with labyrinths, ie. finding one's way) and the sun being a star with a powerful flame? I know I sound like a broken record, but will the Archeron sisters be like the light from Eärendil's - a mariner! - star contained in the phial of Galadriel, but as the three brothers' most beloved stars? Will they light their way through the Void?

Getting back to the compass rose, Cassian refers to the eight-pointed star as a map for striking with a sword, and we know that light can be wielded as a weapon, as Yrene Towers did in Erilea, to heal Chaol and execute the Valg King Erawan.

“You didn’t ask.” He unsheathed his Illyrian blade. “Enough history.” He drew four lines in the dirt, all intersecting to form an eight-pointed star. “This is your map for striking with a sword. These eight maneuvers. You’ve learned six of them. You’ll learn the other two today, and we’ll start on the combinations.” - ACOSF, chapter 44

Additionally, Nesta suggested that the eight-pointed star was stamped on her heart.

Nesta lifted the sword and executed a perfect arcing slash. Her weight shifted to her legs just as she flipped the blade, leading with the hilt, and brought up her arm against an invisible blow. Another shift and the sword swept down, a brutal slash that would have sliced an opponent in half. Each slice was perfect. Like that eight-pointed star was stamped on her very heart. - ACOSF, chapter 50

This sounds incredibly similar to Bryce carrying a star in her chest - her star tattoo was over her heart - so I would not be surprised to learn that Feyre and Elain had something similar, too. It makes sense. Each Cauldron-Made sister carrying one third of a whole star, to replace Theia's protective magic that Bryce took with her to Midgard (as she didn't return it when she did Truth-Teller, Prythian is currently unprotected). And if the Cauldron is Wyrd's vessel, as it appears to be, this makes Feyre, Elain and Nesta supremely important. Perhaps they're not the "scum" Vesperus suggested at all.

Perhaps they are the wyrdkeys to everything? At least in Prythian, if each sister holds within her one third of a whole star that Wyrd planted Herself.

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mojogojocasahouse · 1 year ago

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Home With You

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: After a long mission away, Satoru returns home forgetting he doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: E

Content: hurt comfort, Gojo has a headache and his past trauma is rearing its head, established relationship, smut (p-in-v sex, Gojo’s filthy mouth, multiple orgasms for both parties, it’s so desperate, I don’t know it’s Gojo, man has nasty sex. Enjoy)

It’s not dark enough tonight. He could still see too far in front of him, even through the curtain of rain pouring down from the skies. But that was the thing. He could see everything, all the fucking time.

He’d taken the long way home from Jujutsu High where he’d spent the night arguing with the higher-ups once again, rage and murderous intent boiling beneath his skin. They were going to tear down the Jujutsu world, there was no debating it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it either. Besides killing them all, a task he was more than capable of.

The radio is humming in the background but he isn’t listening, not to that. He’s too busy focusing on the steady pattering of the downpour on the roof of the car, cursing the street lamp to the right as it blinds him even through the black fabric he’s wearing over his eyes. His head is throbbing, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, jaw tense—he could do it so quickly they wouldn’t feel a thing. It was almost a mercy. Curses would tear them apart, as would any of the enemies that seemed to be racking up faster than he could keep count, but Satoru Gojo could end them painlessly…

Knock knock knock

The tapping is gentle, his head lolling to find a sight he was both craving and avoiding distorted by the droplets rolling down the glass.

“Baby?” Your voice was so sweet even muffled through the window and the rain. “What are you doing? You’ve been out here for twenty minutes.”

Had it been that long? News to him. Actually, it felt like an eternity now that he thought about it. It had been three weeks since he’d been home, the one mission that was supposed to be three days turned into four that had kept him away from home far longer than he’d been intending to. He’d finally put his foot down just this morning—hence the verbal lashing he’d taken for “abandoning his duties when they needed him most”—telling those good-for-nothing pieces of shit that he was going the fuck home whether they liked it or not.

But now that he was home, he was hiding.

“Come inside,” you urge again, and my God he wants nothing more than to just collapse into your arms, “Dinner is almost done.”

He’s not fucking hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“I got your kikufuku,” you tack on, and it should make him happy. But it doesn’t.

It makes him fucking hate himself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and he can hear the tremor in your voice, or maybe you’re shivering. His selfish, self-loathing ass is making you stand in the pouring rain while you try and coax him out of his car.

Emotion is still foreign to him. Well, not entirely, but you'd come at a time he'd sworn attachment off, he'd meander the world surrounded by people but always alone. It was easier that way, he'd thought. He hadn’t wanted to allow this, but he’d never stood a chance. Not after you kissed him for the first time outside the ice cream place, or when you listened to him tell a story about curses and infinity that would have sent anyone with sense running for the hills and never looking back. And you’d shrugged. Shrugged.

“You’re still just Toru to me,” you’d said, and at that moment everything and nothing at all made sense.

And still to this day years later, as he steps out of the car and threads his fingers with yours, hunching down to squeeze beneath your clear umbrella, everything and nothing at all makes sense.

The house smells like curry, your music still playing in the kitchen, and the bag of the sweet treats you’d traveled to get just for him sat on the dining table with a new set of sunglasses. He’d broken his favorite ones before the trip, and as he stares at the oblong lenses and golden frames he realizes he'd never told you he’d sat on them, snapping them right in two. You must have just known when he’d opted to wear his older circular ones. Or maybe you found the broken pair in the pocket of his pants when you did the wash. Either way, the gesture makes him squeeze your hand a little tighter as his teeth gnash together. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Oh,” he finally grunts, pulling a small box from the top of his travel bag, “This is for you.”

He’d found it in one of the towns he’d been cursed to investigate, the tiny pendant you were admiring with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Do you like it?” He can see the answer plain as day on your face, but he still feels the need to ask. He needs the god damn reassurance, the ego stroke. He needs to know that he matters for more than the curses bestowed on him at birth.

“Can you put it on me?” you ask with a grin, turning after setting the box in his palm.

The clasp is too small for his fingers to work properly, but he gets it done, laying the pink-jeweled charm against your throat and securing it before watching the way it settles onto your chest from above. Your fingers toy with the gold, so dainty and gentle, you treat everything as if it were the most precious, fragile thing. Even him. His arms practically ache to wrap around your middle, his body freezing despite the comfortable temperature in the house because the only thing that could keep him warm enough was your body pressed against his, every conceivable inch of it.

But he needs a shower. And if he starts now he won’t stop. He intends to stay glued to you, serpentining around your limbs and torso like a parasitic vine, pulling the very will to live from the heat of your skin and the steady beat of your heart. He wonders if you know how much he depends on you.

The strongest in the world. Until he isn’t. Right now he feels like a chump.

It’s not because he lost, because he sure as hell didn’t. He made quick work of each and every foe, it was almost boring. He’d pay someone at this point if they sent something his way that made him break a sweat. No. It’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being the strongest. He’s tired of trying to change things, to save people he’s still not sure he gives a shit about, and he’s buckling beneath the weight of a name and abilities he never asked for.

There’s no denying it’s fun to be the best. He gets away with more than he should, he toys with people’s minds and worth, destruction sits at his fingertips. But it’s lonely. It’s vapid. And being Satoru Gojo leaves him at the mercy of people he shouldn’t be forced to obey.

He’s never lived.

All he’s done is train, fight, bargain, argue, defend, lose everyone he’s ever allowed himself to care about. And that fear sits heavy in his gut as he watches you skitter off to the kitchen when a timer blares shrill in the air. He has to escape now because if he sees that silly smile that settles on your face when you look at him he’ll fall to his knees.

In the time he takes to debate if he can pull the roots that had grown from his feet up from the floor, you were back, and now the predator was turned prey.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again, reading everything from the shape of his mouth to the slump of his shoulders like a book you’d memorized. Answering is far down his list of desires.

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face, the mask he wore so well snapping back into place, “Hungry.” Another lie. “Tired.” That one was true.

“It’s funny that you think you can lie to me.”

It wasn’t venomous, your tone playful as you ascend onto the tips of your toes and reach behind his head, the cloth masking half of his face falling away. Through all the wondrous things his eyes have seen, you are his favorite thing to gaze upon. Despite your lack of cursed energy, there’s still an enchanting hue to you, he could pick it out of a crowd of thousands in an instant, but when the blindfold is pulled away and the sights of the world come crashing in from every angle, your face is like an oasis. Always so sweet, always so happy, so fucking pure his hands that have killed and killed and killed shouldn’t be allowed to fucking touch you.

“There he is,” you coo, your fingers brushing the hair falling into his eyes that see too much, “I just wanted to see you.”

You feel bad. You feel bad for wanting to see his face. What is he doing here? What is he doing to you?

“Glasses now, yeah?” A request he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

“Shower,” he replies, finally undoing the buttons of the high collar that suddenly feels suffocating, ripping open the top few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it, “Then whatever you want.”

A content little hum agrees to his offer, “Dinner is done in ten.”

“Then I’ll be done in five.”

Yet fifteen minutes later he’s still crouching beneath the steady stream of now-tepid water, the veins in his temples pulsing, pain shooting from behind his eyes to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t want to move, think, nothing, he just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

“Toru?”

Before you, had anyone even attempted to call him by that wretched nickname they’d have found themselves beneath the sole of his boot. And they had tried. Shoko and Mei Mei had both tested the waters, Suguru had been smart enough to read Satoru’s reaction to the first two. At first, he thought he'd allowed it because it started as a choked whine, his cock buried in you to the hilt when you sputtered it from swollen lips, in that moment he didn’t care what you called him, nor had he any other time after that. Then it just stuck.

Or maybe it was because he’d never been the Satoru Gojo with you. He had always been something else. Someone else. You didn’t care how many curses he could exorcise, to you he was the guy who delivered extra sweet boba tea and preferred sodas to sake. While others expected him to risk his life while they sat comfortable behind screens demanding too much from people who were running out of things to give, you just wanted flowers and nights in on the couch where he’d carry you to bed after you fell asleep watching a movie. He wasn’t Satoru Gojo, the prodigy. He was…Toru.

When the door creaks open as a result of his silence, he wonders how much you know, what you assume. There’s no point in trying to maintain the ruse that he’s fine, the opportunity for that had passed before he’d even stepped foot in the house.

“Stop avoiding me.” Well, that answers that. You were exceptionally well aware. “Your trip was shit. I got it. But you’ll be on another one in two days and I’ll—“

You know you’re guilting him, and you stop. It doesn’t matter, it already worked. You’d be alone again. And he was wasting this time moping over things he couldn’t change. Not yet. Not quickly enough.

With a towel in your lap you’re perched up on the bathroom counter, a scowl he could easily wipe away with a kiss set on your face. The residual steam floats around you in thick clouds, you’re ethereal, practically glowing, and long strides close the distance before he’s cupping your jaw with palms that swallow you whole and kissing you harder than he intended to.

It’s like the first breath of air after being trapped underwater. The sun of a warm spring day after a cold winter. The first scent of cherry blossoms and the briny breeze of the ocean. You breathe new life into him so effortlessly. He’d considered the day when you’d wisen up and kick him to the curb, taking solace in the fact that as long as he knew you were still alive, it would be enough. His sanity hinges on your existence and nothing else, because once you were gone there would be nothing left keeping him from losing his mind. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

Uncaring of your long sleeves and his soaked body, you press in closer, tangling fingers into his sopping hair as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. It’s been weeks. Painful, lonely, tiresome weeks since he’s felt you, tasted you, smelled you. He’d suppressed his longing, but it’s pouring out now like a river battering through a dam, there was no stopping it until the pressure is released. Lifting you requires little to no strength, and if he’s going to have you, it’s going to be in bed where we can do it properly in the way you deserve. He can have control over this, excel even, if he wasn’t getting back into the shower before the clock struck midnight he would consider it a failure. A man needs goals.

Silver lace was covering your curves beneath your sweater and pants, a sly smirk on your face as you watch his reaction to the real reason you’d gone to Sendai. It’s sheer, his mouth watering at the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric, the battle between whether to marvel at the sight before him or begin his evening’s activities waging while your nails rake over his forearms extending on either side of you. He’s nestled between your thighs, the damp spot that’s already soaked through your panties pressing against his inner thigh, and all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress until you can’t form a coherent thought. He's forgotten about his headache when he pulls your bra down to bunch beneath your breasts, greedily pulling one of your hardened buds between his lips and whimpering at the taste of your skin on his tongue. You’re scratching his scalp soothingly to disguise the way you’re holding him on your tit, your thighs squeezing around him as he rolled and lapped at your sensitive peak all the evidence he needed to justify the fact he didn’t want to stop; you didn't want him to either. With some resistance, you allow him to switch sides, giving him the chance to lavish the other with as much attention, your back arching into him in relief when he latched.

For a man who walks amongst the clouds, he is still well aware this was as close to heaven that he’ll ever get. This was perhaps the only one that existed. It was definitely the only one he wants to ever see. The smell of your perfume still faintly clings to your skin and he chuckles remembering all the times he’d spritzed it on the bottom of his blindfold, your scent wafting through his nose all day as he’d tried to focus on teaching the students. And with that reminder he craves your lips again, meeting you in a kiss you take a moment to reciprocate, shaking off the haze he’d already put you in.

While your reflexes are still slow to keep up, he slips down the mattress and nestles between your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he presses his nose to your core and inhales. It’s lewd and had you been anyone else he’d have refrained, but you push down onto his face, and he can taste the tease of what’s to come on the lace. He debates tearing them straight in half—he’ll replace them—but opts to slowly drag them up your legs, kissing along your inner thigh, knee, calf, and ankle on his way up, flicking the thin garment onto the floor behind him before reversing his path on your opposite leg and finding himself face to face with what he craved above all else.

Your slit is glistening, arousal dripping onto the satin sheets as you mewl in anticipation, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your palm as you try to hold back your eagerness for the first swipe of his tongue. He sears it into his memory, this scene of being so shamelessly desired for nothing more than how good he can make you feel. He’s a greedy man, and you’re a giving woman, nothing demonstrates that more than the way you’re willingly splayed for him to have his way with. He never leaves you dissatisfied, he’s too proud for that, but he takes what he wants.

“I’ve had to only dream about this,” his voice is low and menacing, “for too long.”

“You’re being awfully slow to enjoy it then.”

The taunt strikes a chord.

“Did you think about me while I was away?” He can tease, too. “Fingering this tight little cunt wishing it was me instead?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm. And no videos. That’s awfully selfish of you.”

His thumbs graze over your skin in every place except where he knows you want him. He wants you writhing, so desperate for his touch you’ll unconsciously seek it out all for him to deny you until you’re ready to snap.

“My fist gets the job done,” he continues, grazing his teeth over the curve of your ass, “If I imagine you on your knees in front of me.” He kisses your mound, hooking his tongue into the top of your slit and flicking. “Mouth open. Tongue out.” He gets closer to where you need him this time, but still leaves you waiting and wanting. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Anything.” You’re fucking wrecked and he’s barely done a thing.

“Anything? Anything? You should know by now that’s a dangerous word.”

Clearly, it’s a risk you’re willing to take because you don’t have a rebuttal. So the choice is up to him. He’s so pent up he considers if he commits to opting for dessert before dinner, the main course might be ruined. But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was however not ideal if it ruins his appetite entirely, and he had no intention of cutting this evening short.

“I need to fuck you,” he decides, “Damnit.”

He doesn’t love the decision, but he hates the thought of coming on the sheet while he takes his fill of the feast between your legs. That would impact his focus, and little else deserved his undivided attention. You’re unbothered by his choice entirely, in fact you’re eager, your fists tangled in his hair as you pull him back to your mouth and grab his throbbing cock from where it sits heavy on your stomach.

“I want videos too, you know,” you sigh, nipping at his bottom lip and dragging it between your teeth, “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re so wet he finds no resistance when he fills you in one hard thrust, the air being pushed from your lungs hot on his throat, "Careful what you wish for."

Memory never did the way your velvet walls swaddle him any justice. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him, your nails piercing half-moons into his porcelain skin while he made no attempt at rhythm or tact. He needs to be buried in you—the only refuge he’s ever found—but he needs the friction, the result making his movements frantic and desperate. It’s too hard, too fast, your whines choked by the punctuated slamming of his hips into yours, all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.

You let him fuck you like this because you know he needs it. There’s a piece of himself he leaves with you for safekeeping every time he walks out the door that he reclaims here in the symphony of your breathy moans between sweat-soaked sheets. He tries to kiss you, but you’re both too overcome to focus, lips just grazing and dragging with each jolt of your body upward. His eyes are wide when he clamps a hand down over your throat, the lack of oxygen sending a rush to your core as he squeezes just enough to make breathing hard. You don’t need oxygen right now, all you require is him.

“You’re a mess,” he compliments into your agape mouth, swallowing down your little sounds as he batters into you harder still, “I’m gonna slip right out.”

“N-no,” you protest, your thighs squeezing around him tighter.

It makes him laugh. “Always so needy,” he touts, pulling all the way out and staring at your gaping hole until your hand grips his length soaked in your juices once again in an attempt to guide him back. “Tsk tsk, behave yourself. Have some control.”

The frustrated groan that rips from your chest sends a shockwave coursing through him. Your eyes are pinched shut so tightly your brow is creasing in the center, your wrist so dainty in his massive grip. He pulls your fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of you clean before placing your spit-soaked fingers over your clit and sitting upright. Without him needing to voice his desire, you begin circling your swollen bundle of nerves, your aggravated tension melting away at your own blissful touch, and when you’ve finally forgotten your annoyance at him, he claims you once again.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf, he ruts into you ruthlessly with his newly established leverage, his eyes locked on the way you drift your touch down every so often to feel where your bodies meet.

“I missed you,” he whines against your ankle, pressing his lips to the bone as he throws it over his shoulder, looping his arms around your thighs and picking up his pace, “Missed your fucking pussy.”

He’s well aware you’re past the point of coherent responses, but he likes the pathetic way you try to form a sentence. It’s all gibberish, even if you could think straight the force he’s thrusting his cock into the deepest parts of you cuts you off, your entire body shuddering, and he can’t help but marvel at the way your breasts shake or how your free hand seeks him out for something to grip on to.

“You need to come,” he commands, feeling the coil in his stomach ready to snap, “Lemme feel you, baby.”

It’s immediate. Your orgasm wracks over your body, every muscle going rigid and then shattering like glass, leaving you boneless and spent beneath him. His crescendo begins as yours subsides, but he feels no relief as he spurts hot and thick into your fluttering channel. He still aches, his cock is still rock hard, so he continues as if he’d never stopped. Your cunt squelches loudly as he fucks through your combined releases, and it feels so fucking good he knows he won’t last much longer in this unexpected second wind.

“Can you take it?” he asks, and it’s not so much his filthy mouth as it is a check in, you’re still silent as he seeks relief once again.

“Y-yes,” you sputter, and deep down he knows you’re too sensitive, too swollen.

“Good girl. Move your hand.”

With caution he presses his thumb to your undoubtedly overstimulated bud, your body jumping at the contact but immediately relaxing as he rubs slow circles. Your cunt is sopping wet, your thighs and his soaked with fluids, and the stench of sex is so heavy in the room he swears it’ll linger for days. Your body is glowing in the moonlight trickling in, a thin shin of sweat making you almost iridescent, and he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll get to sleep in this bed with you tonight, a privilege only awarded to him.

“Toru, please!” you beg, and he realizes he’s so caught up comparing you to the memory he has stored away that you’re painfully close to release once again.

“Gonna come again for me?” he purrs, and when your hole constricts he collapses down, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he joins you in the steep ascent to bliss. He moans into your open mouth as fire blazes in his belly, your chin and jaw firmly in his grip as he stares into the eyes he dreams up before he falls asleep every night before collapsing onto your damp chest.

What he thinks is the calm after the storm turns out to only be its eye, the latter half much less enjoyable than the first. Pain sears across his head, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with a newfound rage, and he whimpers in agony. He’s found some sort of safe haven in the curve of your neck, and that will have to do.

Even though he protests with all the energy he has left, you flip him onto his back, the loss of your arms a heavy burden as you leave him on the bed alone. He wants to scream your name, he wants to yell, to be angry at you for abandoning him in this state, but he doesn’t have it in him. He hears a closet door, the faucet, clinking of glass, the scratching of fabric, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Not right now.

The dip of the mattress signifies your return after what felt like an eternity, a hot towel wiping from his thighs to his stomach, the familiar scent of the laundry soap hitting his nose. You’d gotten dressed into something, and he reaches up to where you’re perched in the spot his pillow usually sits and recognizes the fabric of one of his t-shirts; if you have to wear clothes at least they’re his.

Gently, you lift the dead weight of his head and place it in your lap, the soft heat of your bare thighs easing the tightness in his neck as a cool cloth is pressed to his aching eyes.

The air is kissed with the smell of orange blossoms, and he sighs in relief when you begin to massage his temples, the oil on your fingers helping them glide across his skin. You work beneath the cold fabric shrouding him from the overwhelming world, running along his brow and cheeks, stopping to release the tension in his jaw he doesn’t realize he’s holding. Traveling over his ears you move to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull where the muscles are so tight they’re hard as stone, your movements so methodical from years of practice.

“You need to sleep,” you demand in a soft, hushed tone, “you’re too tired.”

Well, he hasn’t slept in days. He’d been too busy, it had been too risky, and an empty bed wasn’t conducive to pleasant dreams. There had been enough nightmares watching you be devoured by curses as he stood idly by unable to help, he likes to avoid them by any means necessary now. So, he nods. Sleep does sound nice.

“I’m staying home tomorrow,” he decides, “Turn my phone off.”

Your hum in response has the hint of a giggle, your nails now scratching against his scalp and through his snowy strands. The deafening roar of pain has subsided to an annoying buzz, and the more you work your hands over his head the quieter it becomes. You’re waiting for him to tell you he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep, and although he is, he’s enjoying this too much. A tender touch feels so good after weeks of combat and surging adrenaline, he can’t be blamed for wanting to bask in it for a few moments longer than needed.

“I’m gonna owe you for this, aren’t I?” he finally jokes, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them to his lips where he pecks across your knuckles.

“Oh yeah,” you confirm, tipping his chin up to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, “Big time.”

After a quick sweep of the house, including both turning off his phone and hiding it in a kitchen drawer, and a change of the sheets much to Satoru’s dismay over having to move, you slip back into bed. Immediately, his arms circle you, and although you're facing away from him comfortably nestled on your side, he buries his face into your spine, falling asleep almost immediately as your heat washes over him like a security blanket.

He dreams of home. Of you. A flower behind your ear and a smile lighting up your face. He has the courage to say he loves you here, something he has yet to utter in waking hours. It’s been too long to matter now, you read it in his actions and his intent, but one day he hopes to not fear the consequences of saying the words aloud. Because he does love you, more than anyone, anything. More than himself. And one day he’ll admit it.

One day.

***Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated***

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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wutheringcaterpillar · 9 months ago

Note

Jim from TDS gets so fuzzy brained and dumb when he’s pounding into Y/N, because he wanted her for so long and he finally has her. he feels he deserves to have what he wants, and also making sure everyone knows she belongs to him.

Y/N could be either Jim’s son’s gf/ex-gf, Jim’s daughter’s best friend, or Jim’s best friend 🫣

Btw you’re doing such a great job with your fics!!!

Warnings: Age gap (Jim is in his 40s, reader between 18-25), p in v, Jim’s a bad dad, unprotected sex, creampie, stalking social media, mentions of masturbating, taking inappropriate photos without consent, hickies

Thank you for the request I had a lot of fun with this! Hope you enjoy!❤️

Jim was reclined in his bed, his hand massaging his hardened member while he scrolled through social media photos of you. He was completely fucked ever since the day his son brought you home and may or may not have developed unhealthy coping mechanisms that his son had what he couldn’t.

Even in his dreams he could see your attractive silhouette, continuously replaying fake scenarios of you straddling him, on your knees batting those innocent lashes up at him begging for his cock.

You had him wrapped around your fucking finger without even knowing, you were completely and utterly hypnotizing.

“Fuck y/n..” He kept replaying a video on the beach, only thing covering you was a skimpy little bikini. Jim could just imagine what was underneath, reminiscing how even when he lay in the sun tanning chair, he couldn’t help but snag a few photos when you weren’t paying attention.

Position of you bent over picking up pebbles from the sand, when you came up for air from the water, specs of water droplets painting your chest, running down your cleavage.

He needed to have you, wanted to be entangled in the sheets with you, hearing you moan his name lustfully, screaming as he made you cum.

Your body was so young, hardly flawed, and had curves in all the right places. He hated to see you leave the house but loved to watch you walk away.

In the midst of coming to his high, the door slammed downstairs and he could hear yelling, what sounded to be you.

Curious, and for caution he pulled up his pants, huffing in irritation that he was interrupted from his intrusive, sexual imaginations.

“You are such an ass! Just because I enjoyed an evening with my friends doesn’t give you the right to go out with some random girls to some party and kiss them! You’re ridiculous, did you even think about me for a singular moment?!” This was the moment Jim had been waiting for, as awful as it may sound, he wanted you two to break up. He wanted the opportunity to arise for him to be there when you’re upset, knowing that there was a chance for you two to be together.

Jim wasn’t stupid, there were many times where you “accidentally” brushed past him inappropriately, there were plenty of stolen glances and obscene gestures whenever his son Caleb wasn’t around. You wanted him just as much, but due to your relationship with his son, you hadn’t gone any further. He’d constantly have to excuse himself to the restroom to deal with the repurcussions, seeking out a sweet release.

“You’re over reacting, besides I’ve been meaning to put an end to this dwindling flame. We were never going to work so figured, why not just end it the easy way.” Jim was in shock that Caleb would do such a thing to a girl, especially you. He had taught him better than that, granted he did cheat on his mother but that was besides the point.

Hearing footsteps run up the stairs followed by a door slam, Jim poked his head out hearing your sniffles from downstairs. What kind of man would he be to not check in and ensure you were okay?

“Y/N?” You were seated on the cushioned sofa, mascara flowing messly down your cheeks from weeping, but that voice…that masculine, caring, attractive voice had your glancing up from your emotional turmoil.

Jim was standing there in his pajama pants and black t-shirt, his reading glasses tucked in the hem of his shirt while his peppery hair was slightly disheveled.

“Oh I’m sorry, I was just going to head out. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no. Stay please. My son’s an idiot and I can assure you I didn’t raise him to be that way.” He took a seat next to you, trying to act concerned when in reality his eyes kept glancing at your thighs, the way your skirt hardly covered anything. Keep it together Jim, jesus.

The close proximity and the smell of Jim’s cologne was raising the tension, and an idea popped into your head. If Caleb thought he had the right to hurt you, you would hurt him ten times worse.

Jim’s crystal blue, alluring eyes were locked on your in a transfixed state of mind, heart pumping with adrenaline when he settled his hand on your thigh in a way to “comfort” you.

He was radiant, smart, and overwhelmingly attractive for a man in his forties. When he touched you, goosebumps formed on your skin, breath hitching in your throat. Was this a bad idea, most likely, but temptation and profound desire had a hold of you both.

“I um- I always thought you were a nice girl Y/N, and beautiful, kind, sexy- fuck what the fuck am I saying.” He wanted to hit himself for his stammering of words, rolling off his tongue without even thinking, but you simply laughed, blushing from his clear embarassment. When he tried to pull away his hand, you moved it back further up just nearly underneath your skit.

“Jim, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always thought you were quite sexy too, I mean fuck you’re a total dilf and I’ve always imagined what you looked like underneath those clothes. How fucked up is that? My own boyfriend- well ex’s dad.” You glanced down at the floor, eyes skimming the carpet trying to find a way to justify your feelings, that they weren’t morally wrong.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he slid his finger down the length of your warm neck, gaining your attention.

There was a momentous silence as you stared into one another eyes, an immense sense of crave and desire coursing through your veins.

Closing the distance, you smashed your lips against Jim’s, hands settled on his cheeks needing him desperately. At that moment the air in the room seemed to disappear, the oxygen slowly didsapating from Jim’s lungs. He was in disbelief that this was actually happening, he was kissing his son’s ex girlfriend who he’d been masturbating to all summer long.

Your lips were soft, smoothe, and you were surprisingly good at kissing for how young you were. Unable to resist, his tongue lapped inbetween your lips as he pulled you onto his lap, his hardened cock rutting against your dripping mound desperately needing you, forgetting Caleb was just upstairs.

He held you like a woman, his hands grasping at the chubby skin of your ass cheeks underneath your skirt, roaming and massaging the delicate skin roughly.

“Fuck Y/N… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment…” Your lips roamed down to the crook of his neck, sucking and rotating your tongue, surely leaving a mark causing him to release a disgruntled groan.

Your hands fumbled with his belt, craving to be filled with his cock while your pussy throbbed in your panties, slick merely dripping from your cunt.

Shedding yourself of your shirt, Jim’s eyes widened from the sight of your well rounded, perfect tits, they were everything he had imagined them to be and more.

His hands grasped the jiggly skin, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head in satisfaction. Hold it together Jim, what would she think if you busted just from the sight of her fucking tits, pathetic man.

His brain seemed to turn to a puddle, any prior thoughts lost from your hypnotizing body. He had to have you right then and there.

“Well, are you going to fuck me or not, because I really…” You trailed off you sentence, running a singular finger down his lip, eyes focused on him with a lustful gaze as you grinded against his lap, needing more.

“Really, need you inside me, my pretty pussy aches for you Jim.” Within second he flipped you onto your back, shedding himself of his clothes and tearing down your skirt and panties down in a animalistic frenzy.

He had never seen such a perfect cunt in his life, so in tact, so beautiful, and dripping for him, god how his dick was felt like it was going to burst any minute. His size took you by surprise, Jim wasn’t small by any means, his cock a good eight maybe nine inches, this was going to be fun.

Your hand grazed the back of his neck, pulling him down just so your lips brushed against his ear.

“Hope your cock is better than your son’s, wouldn’t want to be dissapointed.” He took that as a challenge, one that he knew very well he was going to win.

“My son, doesn’t seem to know how to pleasure his woman and I’m going to make sure he and everyone else knows who fucked you right.” Your eyebrow quirked up in interest.

“Well go on then, fuck me like no other man could.” Jim had never been this nervous in his life to fuck a woman, but you- you he didn’t want to leave unsatisfied.

He didn’t even need to glance down before pushing the head of his thick shaft deep inside of you, claiming you as his.

You gasped from the sudden intrusion, nail’s scraping against the muscles on Jim’s back. He smirked satisfyingly, leaning down to kiss you once more, shoving his tongue roughly into your mouth, desperately needing to explore every inch of you, craving more and more.

He pumped quickly into you, patience being non existent, the feel of your hot, indisputably tight walls clenching to his length. Your boobs bounced with each powerful thrust. His lips trailed down to the warmth of your neck, tenderly sucking lavender marks into your smoothe skin, needing people to know who you belonged to now.

“Oh Jim, more, more, please…” Oh the velvet, captivating sound of your strained moan had his horny brain whirling, eyes merely fluttering closed from the sweet descent of your exasperated tone.

Your pussy was throbbing from pleasure, being filled to the brim like no other man had fucked you before.

Your fingers intertwined in his hair, scrunching at his gray, partially wavy hair, pressing him against your body as he fucked you relentlessly. His free hand cusped at the cushiony skin of your boob, rolling the jelly like skin.

He needed to see you in another position, he need to see himself filling your cunt.

Standing up causing you to whine from the empty feeling, he picked you up with his strong arms effortlessly as if you weighed nothing before bending you over the sofa.

“Oh!” Jim slapped your ass and pulled your head back aggresively by the strands of your hair, plumetting his cock into your heated, tight walls simultaneously.

“Fuck! Fuck Jim! Ah!” He didn’t hold back, striking deep within your aching core over and over, his balls slapping against your skin with each powerful thrust. He had never seen an ass bounce back against him so poetically and perfectly, he was nearly salivating on the mouth looking down at you bent over on display for him and only him. Watching your pussy swallow his dick with each desperate rut, god you were stunning.

Hearing you man his name and take his cock so well was sending him over the edge, his dick pulsating in you before he even had the chance to think.

As you pounded your ass back against him, your bottom lip was becoming increasingly swollen from how much your teeth had been biting at it from the immense pleasure.

“Jesus, you’re fucking amazing, fucking beautiful, taking my cock so fucking well. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You Jim. All yours, completely yours. I-I’m going to-Ah-“ He slapped your ass cheek fiercely once more, focusing on the way you moaned his name, the way your back arched as you came undone.

Your knuckes turning white from the grip they had on the cushioned surface, toes curling from your orgasm. The euphoric, alluring sensation taking over every part of your body.

That didn’t stop Jim from going to pound town. Slamming your hips down against him, rutting desperately and bottoming out deep within your dripping, aching cunt. He wad close.

“Gonna fucking cum- want me to fill you up love. Hm? Having my cum spilling out of you like a faucet for days.” You nodded desperately moaning for him to cum at the sound of his gruff voice

“Jim, Jim, please. I need your cum, need you to paint my fucking insides white, right now. Now.” At that moment you could feel his thick cock pulsate within your core, his cum shooting straight up into your cervix.

“Fuck, fuck y/n… I’m fucking cumming.” The sweat beaded at your forhead, his own dripping down from his hair onto your back.

He had never felt a high so unfathomably pleasurable, he finally felt like he had accomplished what he always wanted- needed to. You were finally his.

Pulling out he stretched your cunt, pulling the sensitive, reddened skin apart with his large digits, seeing the art he had created with his milky white cum flowing freely out of your alluring pussy that was still twitching from your orgasm.

Caleb turned and twisted in his bed, the constant strange sounds keeping him up. Deciding to investigate, he grabbed the bat from his room before making his way downstairs only to be blindsided with his own dad intertwined with his now ex-girlfriend whom was covered with hickies on her neck

“What the fuck is this?! How did this-How could-“

“That’s how you treat a woman son. Maybe take notes because let me tell you, she’s a keeper this one.” You smirked on the couch, nuzzling your nose against his chest being fully happy with your decision to sleep with your ex’s father. He was already proving to be more of a man than Caleb ever was.

“Ready for bed love?” Jim held his hand out for you, wrapping his robe around your shoulders while Caleb stood there fuming at the actions of his own father and you, disbelief that you’d go this far, making him question if you ever really gave a shit about him or just dated him for his dad.

#Jim #jim tds #jim x reader #jim x you #Jim tds x reader #Jim tds x you #the delinquent season imagine #ranaewrites #requested

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gunnerfc · 1 year ago

Text

Katie McCabe NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

Will get you anything you need after you’ve calmed down and give you light kisses all over your face while praising you

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Katie’s favorite body part is her arms, she’s caught you staring plenty of times and loves to show off in the gym when she knows you’re watching

Her favorite body part of yours is your legs, Katie loves having them wrapped around her and leaving marks all over them

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Katie will immediately pull you into a kiss after she’s made you cum with her mouth

D: Dirty Secret

Katie might not want to share you with anyone but she’s not opposed to the idea of people hearing you and will tease you to be louder

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?)

Definitely knows what she’s doing

F: Favorite Position

Either any position where she can have her mouth on you between your legs or have you bent over something

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

She’s way more serious in the moment

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

She might be degrading or teasing you but she knows you and your body well and knows when you need something from her

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC)

She doesn’t care if you do, she knows it won’t be as good as her

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Degrading and edging, Katie loves hearing you beg her to do literally anything

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Anywhere, but prefers being at home or in a hotel room so she doesn’t feel like she has to rush

M: Motivation (What turns them on?)

You touching her, your hands always leave a warm feeling when you touch her and it’s all she can think about

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

Katie doesn’t want to share you with anyone so no threesomes, she wants to be the only one who makes you see stars

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Giving, she would stay between your legs as long as possible

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?)

Fast and rough nine times out of ten, the one time it isnt fast and rough is when you’re the one who’s in charge that night

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies)

She doesn’t mind them, she loves any chance to have her hands on you but she loves taking her time pleasuring you more

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting)

Some, as long as you two talk about something, she’s willing to try it once and if you both enjoy it, it may happen again

S: Stamina (How many rounds)

Katie can go for many rounds, she prefers longer ones for the most part though

T: Toys

Two main straps get used often, one is double ended and the other isn’t

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

Katie lives to tease you both out and in the bedroom, though the teasing that happens inside the bedroom is a lot more degrading and sarcastic

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make)

She’s not the loudest but you have been able to make her louder on different occasions

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

The first time the two of you had sex away from home was during an away game with Arsenal. The two of you weren’t roommates and she joined you in the shower after training which led to sex and your roommate, Lia, almost heard you loudly moaning.

Katie still hasn’t let you live that down and anytime you two have sex during away games and you get a bit loud she’ll shush you before saying “don’t want Lia to hear you” with a teasing smirk on her face.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high, will take any and every opportunity to have sex with you

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It changes, sometimes it’s very quickly but other times she’ll stay up until you fall asleep

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #arsenal wfc x reader

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xylianasblog · 7 months ago

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Know your place.

Pairings: Quaritch x FemNavi Reader

Summary: You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Warnings: MDNI, master/slave, TW: NONCON, non consensual , p in v, Quaritch being a dominate asshole, very mean, sub reader, shy and innocent, mentions of being drugged, unprotected sex, forced mating. If I missed any warnings please let me know!

A/n: this one was so difficult but shout out to @quicktosimp for even planning a dark content themed event.

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦ ❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦MDNI ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

You felt the prick in the side of your neck before you even had time to question it, the world around you started to blur until there was nothing left but darkness.

Your body felt heavy, your mind was still groggy. You felt like you had just fallen from the tallest of trees, everything hurt. Your eyelids felt as if they wanted to stay closed despite your best efforts to try and open them and when that failed you tried to open your mouth. You didn’t succeed in that either, the moment you were able to part your lips so sound could be heard, your mouth felt drier than you could imagine as thirst clung to your chapped lips.

You didn’t feel it first but you felt it now the fear of the unknown filled your body with dread, the need to run played over and over in your head but your body wouldn’t listen. You couldn’t even move your limbs.

Everything was eerily silent wherever you were, no sounds no nothing. It felt like hours as you lay unmoving in the same sprawled pit position. Gradually you felt feeling come back to your limbs, one by one you were able to wiggle and move but you were so hopeful about getting away. As you worked on moving around trying to find a slightly comfortable position to lay the sound of an automatic door opened, the swooshing sound had your tail raised and ears perked. Every bit of you on high alert.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and you still couldn’t figure out how to break loose. Your thoughts ran rampant and you felt so helpless, you saw the boots before you let your eyes roam ever so slowly up the persons figure. He was a Na’vi, no this man was no Na’vi he was a dream walker, what business did he have with you?

You studied his form silently as you watched him crouch down, his hand reaching out to grab at the base of your kuru, you cried out as you tried to squirm away.

“Shut yer fucking mouth cupcake, ain’t no one coming to save you.” His yellow eyes glared down at your trembling body, the devilish smirk that crossed his features scared you. His eyes racked over your body slowly taking in your petite form, you felt yourself stomach drop with the look that filled his eyes. You parted your lips getting ready to beg and plead for your life and safety, however your words were cut short as he harshly pressed his mouth until yours. Forcing his tongue into your mouth as his hold on your kuru tightened up causing a pain to jolt through your body, you whimpered into the kiss out of fear as your felt his hands roughly touching along your body.

You felt his fingers gliding over your clothes pussy, you kicked and thrashed around as he continued to touch and rub in areas no one had ever dared to touch. You felt disgusted with your self despite all your efforts to fight back, you were utterly helpless. He broke the kiss to take in some much needed air, you took your chance to gather as much as you could, your head being secured still with the grip he had on your kuru. He leaned down his breath brushing against your ear as he spoke. “I’m gonna make you my bitch.” He chucked as he pulled away.

Your body had froze in fear, you may not have been able to understand most of the sky people language but you could tell by the time of his words that this was a promise. One that meant trouble.

Even as he continued to touch and prob at your pussy you couldn’t find the strength to move, your body was cooperating with your mind. His words playing over in your mind as he worked to get you out of your loincloth and top. Your mind was reeling, nothing was processing into you felt the tip of his hard length pressing against your hole. He had not prepared you, touched you to loosen up your tightness. As the reality of the situation began to say in you begin to kick harder, using your hands to push and hit with all of your might. You weren’t strong by any means even as a navi this male was still much stronger than you.

Through all your kicking and fighting you weren’t paying attention to anything but whatever you had left of your will you fight. A searing pain spread across the side of your face. For a moment time seemed to stop, everything felt as if it had slowed down and the stinging pain of his hit and the ringing in your ears was the only indication that anything had happened. “Stop fighting or I’ll kill you.” He hissed out, the deranged look in his eyes had your body stopping instantly.

He threw your head down roughly as he turned you to your side, and for a brief moment you felt instant relief as he released your kuru. He turned your body sideways and lifted your leg up to give himself the perfect view of your cunt. He settled himself nicely over your other leg, securing it with the wait of his body as he pressed his length in slowly forcing your tight little cunt to stretch. You couldn’t even cry out for the fear of him hitting you once more, so you shut your eyes tightly willing your mind to drift off as he forced himself to bottom out inside you. The sound of his groan and the feeling of being full were indications of him being as deep as he could go. He had successfully stretched you out, marking your body as his as the tip of his cock kisses at your womb.

Your mind drifted between the feeling of his length buried deep inside you to other things to focus on, you refused to acknowledge the male before you actively ripping away your innocence from you. Each of his thrust had your mental resolve breaking, each one pushing deeper and harder into you. It was clear he was focused on his own pleasure, so why did the feeling of him hitting so deep begin to feel good in your mind.

Quaritch reached over to grab your kuru at the tip, despite his rough thrusting his touches were softener now, gentle even you barely felt it. He lifted it up to examine it as the hair fell away to reveal the pink tendrils, they wiggled around freely now looking for anything to connect to, make the bond to. You opened your eyes just as he did the unspeakable. You both gasped at the unexpected sensation as the bond had been made, your eyes closed involuntarily as you were overwhelmed with pleasure. Pleasure that wasn’t yours, you felt ever but of him as if he was another part of you, your breathing syncing to his as your heartbeats became one. Your body shuddered as you felt his release quickly approaching,

Quaritch reached down after a moment it took him to compose himself. His hand grabbed your cheeks roughly forcing you to look into his eyes. His thrusting had slowed to a stop a scowl set on his lips before he spoke in a breathy tone. “You belong to be now understand? Like a good little slave I’ll train you to be, you will follow my directions no question asked. I am your master now.” He threw your face to the side as he resumed his task to train you to be his slave in every sense of the word. He just so happened to start with your body first.

Tags: @etherial-moon-blog, @quicktosimp, @tallulah477 @eywaite

#avatar twow #atwow smut #twow smut #recom miles quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch smut #recom quaritch x reader #dark content #dark themes #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #avatarsurvivethenight #avatar

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pookieace · 1 year ago

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cw : bleeding n period talk, oral, p-in-v, just my brainrot pretty much hhhhhahehdhsjdj anyways mdni please and thanks <3

sorry (not really) im just going insane over men who aren’t afraid to touch your pussy when you’re bleeding cough cough gojo satoru. he just wants to make you feel good, it doesn’t matter how, you know? you being all shy but needy when you’re on your period and he knows it. he’s helped you through it before :(( he’s soooo down to do it again because you’re a different kind of needy, wet and sloppy in more ways than one and soooo much more sensitive. gojo just really thrives off seeing you clutch onto him as he plays with your clit, enjoys how you’re all ‘pls don’t touch me down there it’s bloody and messy’ to ‘pls pls pls don’t stop i wanna cum’.

you’ve never him fuck you though, mostly out of shame and embarrassment. never let him use his mouth on you either. but this time, he’s determined. gojo loves to make you come undone on his tongue all the time, he’s addicted to the taste of you. he uses his pretty fingers on your clit and waits until you’re distracted.

your hips chase his fingertips as your high approaches it’s then when he trails soft kisses down your body, slowly, slowly, and before you even have the chance to realise what he’s doing and where he’s going, he’s wrapping his lips around your lil nub and humming into you. the taste is metallic and different but it’s just soooo you and he’s melting, getting comfy on the bed as he lets his tongue do the work and you’re lowkey pushing his head away but he just wraps his arms around your thighs and keeps you there. he’s so much stronger anyway, you can struggle all you want but he’s not going to budge. maybe he’ll even give your thighs a lil smack so you stop trying to push him off and he just spends his time down there before he makes you cum.

after he lets you come down from your high he just rubs his cock against your pussy :(( “you’ll let me fuck you, right? lemme make you feel good… pleaaase baby.” and he’s so sweet about it how could you say no? the second he’s in, he’s doing his best not to poke and prod your insides in a bad way so your cramps act up. but he’s just deep enough and fucks you just hard enough to have you clutching onto his biceps and gasping at how good it feels. can’t stop grunting cause you feel so damn good, so damn wet and tight too and when he stops to readjust himself a little, you get all self conscious because duh, you’re bleeding and now he’s covered in it. it’s embarrassing and shameful and you become hyper aware of the mess and the smell. “‘m sorry ‘toru..”

the sudden apology’s got him scrunching his eyebrows a little in confusion. “for what? why’re you apologising?” and when you mutter out a quick ‘for the mess and the smell’ gojo just scoffs. he grabs ahold of your thighs and wraps them around his waist with ease and pushes his cock in just a little bit deeper while going, “don’t fuckin’ care. just wanna make you feel good. you feel good, don’t you? ‘m making you feel good aren’t i?” and of course he is :(( he just places a kiss to the corner of your lips when you answer you feel good cause of him and he’s sooo proud and so smug and makes you cum on his cock and takes care of you afterdjajdjsjzhskkf okay im done that’s all im going crazy <33

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw periods #tw blood #ill be honest besties i wrote this with sanji but the brainrot is way too strong i had to change it to gojo to not combust on the spot #(did not work i still combusted on the spot because hhhhngfnhdh gojo 🤕)

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aemysbabyofficial · 1 year ago

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Sweet Favor; Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

O, young Lucerys. So young and naive ventured down journeys and halls that never called his name.

Warnings: descriptions of sex; targcest; p in v sex; implied rough sex; description of nude bodies; dirty talk; swearing; description of sex

MDNI

Lucerys Velaryon had a favor for someone. It was something special yet difficult. It required the utmost levels of precision. Not everyone was fit for the challenge. Not his brothers, no. They would mess up before he even asked them. Lucerys kicked the dirt off his boots before commencing his search inside the castle.

No, this favor required the skills of one special kind of person. Someone he knew he could trust. Someone that always had his back, even in the darkest of nights. This person knew all the ins and outs and was secretive with it. This person was also everyone's favorite, so there was chance his favor could take time. The right wink was needed for the right flush of the cheeks.

"Saela?"

Lucerys noticed the odd shift in Daemon's shoulders when he spoke his cousin’s name. His head of brown curls poked into the quiet room and his voice echoed against the high walls. Out of everyone, Daemon would know where his favorite daughter was.

"Haven't seen her since the morning. Is she not riding with her sisters?"

Lucerys shook his head. Hope had crested off the cliff's edge into the frigid blue depths.

After breaking their fast, Baela and Rhaena took off on their dragons with Jacaerys and hadn't yet returned. From a passing handmaid, Lucerys heard that Saela wasn't feeling well and excused herself from the table to rest in the library, leaving she, Lucerys, and King Viserys' children inside.

Currently, from the other rooms and halls he poked his head into, Helaena was outside digging through the gardens. (She muttered prophecies that scared Lucerys away from even asking her a question.) Aegon hadn't shown his face since dinner two nights ago--there was no question where he was nor what he was doing. Aemond was squaring off with Ser Criston Cole a while ago, and his presence didn't bother the boy prince at all.

"You need her for something?" Daemon craned his neck. Lucerys shook his head and bid the prince farewell before he could spill his favor.

Where the Heart of the House had disappeared flew over the prince’s head. This is her home. Lucerys was forced to remember after he turned every corner that he was only a guest at his cousin’s home. Saela knew the Keep better than anyone. The layout was stamped to her mind hotter and fresher than anyone. It was because of that Lucerys bore jealousy for her impeccable memory. With all the years they spent apart and she was forced to roam these cold walls, it came to no surprise that Saela knew the best places to hide.

Midday at the Red Keep saw few to no people in the halls. As it was a bright day outside and peace had touched the land, rather than waste the odd day, all the nobles either roamed the town or returned to their homelands. No one knew how long sunny symphony would sing its strings in King’s Landing. This quiet gave Lucerys permission to roam hallways, secret paths, and passages he would never once do.

It was a shame Saela wasn’t with him to be his guide and Jace was missing the greatest action, but adventures by himself built up his small strength for greater feats.

A hall he had never seen before, or maybe, hadn’t remembered from his time away stood to his right. Lucerys looked to his left and right. He stood far from anyone’s bedchambers or busy hallways. It was empty, this hall. No guard stood posted outside a door nor did a handmaid walk by.

A heavy ball dropped in the young prince’s gut when he stepped foot into the hall. It felt like he entered a new world. Candles lighting the paths were blown off and an rogue breeze brushed his hair sideways. An open door?

The sounds of children laughing and light voices trailed from an open door out of Lucerys reached. To not startle anyone or expose his position, the boy craned his eyes just far enough to see the awkward skirt of a handmaid and wooden toys for children.

“A nursery…” Lucerys whispered. Jaehaera, Maelor, and Jaehaerys must be playing inside.

An open window allowed for the ocean breeze to pave its way. A young child--Lucerys' could not figure the age for the life of him--ran to the far corners of the room to an older woman. A wetnurse rocked on a chair while two other handmaids, who managed spoke better High Valyrian he expected, sang two the children. Across the floor were various clothing items and hoods detailed with colored ribbon. The lure of young ones laughing and running with glee reminded the Lucerys of his youngest siblings. A mixture of High Valyrian and Common Tongue fell from the children’s tongues as they sang.

A part of him wanted to join them in the large room and learn from their language books. It was funny to think that he was jealous they could speak his mother tongue better than him, but doing so would distract him from his mission.

He needed to find his favorite cousin now.

Lucerys ran past the nursery with light steps. The prince pushed past the door at the end of the hallway and came face to face with a storage.

Another dead end.

Magic must have stolen Saela away because she was nowhere to be found. Lucerys kicked a hanging rug behind him, which just rained a shower of dust on him.

"Gods..."

A breathy voice trailed its way to Lucerys' ears. As the last syllable burned his flesh, the skin of his ears blushed a flaming pink. His head whipped in all directions around the storage. He was alone, was he not? Who could be making such a devilish sound?

A mix of muffled and hushed voices spoke to the boy’s confused mind behind a door hidden behind the fallen rug. With careful steps, he crept closer and closer to a spare room.

“N-no worries. ‘tis quiet now, right?” the airy voice spoke again, warring on a thin line between pain and pleased. Was the voice talking about him?

Lucerys furrowed his brows.

What his cousin was doing in such an abandoned place made no sense, but the surprise he would give her would ultimately reveal the truth. Out of the three, Saela was the easiest to give up. Baela would resist with arms of steel and Rhaena would somehow evade his unique questioning, but Saela? If he needed anyone to cover his messes, wanted to know a little secret, or needed a little favour, Saela was the perfect girl to give into little Lucerys.

The smile on his face tugged his lips upwards when he rested a hand on the door. Whoever closed it was confident no one would pass the hall because it was unlocked. Nothing stopped Lucerys from barging in. Nothing stopped him from lightly pushing the door with his fingers. Nothing stopped him from bribing Saela.

"Oh gods, right there! Don't stop, please!"

The loud voice froze the boy's smile. Lucerys' stilled so much he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. But past the deep thumping of his heart and blood rushing through his veins were the moans from his dear cousin. The giggles he loved to hear after making her laugh were interlaced with breathy groans and pleads for whatever to go faster. The quiet of the hallway made everything behind the door much louder.

What he saw made his stomach turn.

Atop a simple bed were two bodies tangled together in a mess of clothes and limbs. The skirt of Saela's skirt was bunched at her waist while one of her legs were strung over Aemond's shoulder. Her breasts spilled from the neckline of her dress and both their hands, in the mix of haggard hair, groped each other’s skin.

Aemond’s hands trailed up from her waist to her neck while Saela interlaced their free hands together. The vicious slap Aemond’s hips made every time he thrusted into her Saela made Lucerys sick.

But what shocked him most was what Saela was saying.

"Right there, fuck, ugh right there! Don', uh, don't stop."

Her full, round lips would once sing him imaginary songs to sleep and whisper him funny stories she thought up in the Godswood. Now, in the cramped space, with her legs spread open to Aemond, filth dripped from her tongue every passing second.

“Aem-ugh, right there! Fuck me harder!”

"You like it rough, huh?" Aemond groaned into her neck.

"Fuck this cunt like you mean it! Oh, gods, yes!"

Saela screamed as her back arched. Her eyes shut closed. Lucerys watched pain and pleasure wash over her face. A head of silver locks covered her top half as Aemond sucked her breasts. His tongue swirled over her nipples, tugging and toying with the buds as his hips thrust into her. Her moans sharpened when he bit her flesh, the sight of red not bothering anybody.

Aemond had rid himself of his trousers and boots, leaving him a heaving statue dressed in a cotton shirt. Contorts of his muscled back flexed with every move he made. When he reached a hand under Saela's skirt, the muscles in his arms tensed as Saela shook even more.

“Gods be good, Saela.” Mutters of Lucerys’ cousin fell from Aemond’s lips. It was like he worshipped her in the cramped space. Her moans and pleads were a chorals song to Aemond’s prayers that were fulfilled every second.

"No, no, 'tis too much!" Ragged breaths fell from Saela's open mouth.

No. No! Lucerys covered his ears and stepped back from the door. What we doing here? He shouldn’t be here? The prince froze in place, unable to move or block out the lewd sounds. His mother always said she would teach him about manhood—what it meant to love a woman, fight for her honor, and eventually take her maiden head. But here in this cramped space, Rhaenyra was already beaten.

I can’t look away, the boy’s brain honed his eyes to the sweaty fucking before him.

Lucerys couldn’t look away from Saela’s bouncing breast, her nipples shinning with Aemond’s spit.

Lucery couldn’t look away from Aemond’s dick vanishing into her hole, already coated in juices.

Lucerys couldn’t look away from Aemond nuzzling his face into Saela’s neck, whispering sweet whispers and pressing kisses to her skin.

No, I can’t look away. Lucerys’ body was hot. I am a grown boy bound to learn love sooner or later. Something in him throbbed, he didn’t know what, but it made his body blush.

"Give me a babe, Aemond. I want to be full of your seed."

Babe? Lucerys couldn’t believe his burned ears.

“You want to be full of me, again?” Aemond breathed against Saela’s neck. The whisper was loud enough for Lucerys to hear over the loud sex. “You want to parade yourself around as my little whore again?”

“Fuck what the lot think. All I want is my cunt to be filled with you.” The hooded stare Saela gave Aemond would have any man melting at the knees, but the prince hovered over her like a god unfazed. No, he wasn’t unfazed, his desire peaked to higher levels. Whatever throbbed in Lucerys moved to his heart and mind. Who was this woman that wore his cousin’s face?

“No one satisfies me the way you do,” the prince’s voice became airy. “No one fucks the way you do, sweet talks them into anything. No one loves the way you do.”

Aemond showed the fury of a swordsman in that small room. His voice growled against her cheek. His balls ached with release each time they slapped into Saela’s wet entrance. Juices leaked from them both, coating their thighs in slick layers Lucerys couldn’t imagine. “I will give you whatever you wish for in this cursed place. As long as you stay with me.”

“Forever and ever, love.” Saela’s voice was soft even if her face contorted in pain. In just saying those four words, the couple lost themselves to each other.

A mixture of a laugh and moan fell from Saela’s mouth when the hand fisting her hair tightened its hold. Aemond’s other hand sunk into the softness of her thigh and kneaded the skin without mercy. What Lucerys half-understood as Valyrian curses erupted from Aemond when he dug himself deep into Saela.

One. Two. Three. Four.

One at a time, Lucerys watched Aemond “shoot his load,” as Aegon whispered into his ear in passing. His ears burned with the hot hiss from his uncle, and they bled every time Aemond cursed just steps away from him.

A drunk smile spread on Saela's lips as her back arched again. Her eyes clenched close as a searing pain shot up her thigh. The grip Aemond hand on her forced her body closer to his. Their bodies stuck to each other from the sweat and desires they oozed. She trembled with ecstasy while Aemond's hot breath fanned her equally hot skin. His kisses on her neck were wet and his thrusts slowed to a gentle beat. Lucerys could see flames of desire ignite everything around them.

When the moans stopped and the couple peeled themselves from each other, the boy finally snapped back into reality. His body stumbled against the cold floor and his chest rose faster the more he recognized shuffling clothes.

Lucerys saw his world go white when the door opened. One minute he was standing, the next, sunlight blinded his eyes.

How did she get up so fast?

With the way Saela screamed, one might imagine a sword was pointed at her throat. Her hands flew to her chest when she saw the wild look in her cousin's eyes. But what was there to hide that the boy hadn't seen? The red of his face and panicked rise of his chest gave it away. He saw.

After the pounding she just received, Lucerys was about to ask if she was okay, but remembering where he was, the boy kept his mouth shut. Speaking warranted him a death sentence. Her hands flew to cover her chest,

"Are you alright, love?"

Saela whipped her head back into the room. Her curls fell over her shoulders, hiding the trail of bites from her chest to her ear. The door behind her closed the door just slightly, hiding Lucerys from both she and Aemond's eyes. Whatever Aemond was doing kept him from the door, saving Lucerys the rest of his life that second.

"Yes, I'm fine. I saw a rat, that's all. " A deep chuckle from the One-Eyed Prince echoed in the room before more shuffling. “A nasty thing one, it scared me.”

Ducking herself back further in the room, Saela whispered something to Aemond, craning her body closer to him. Whatever she whispered made Aemond kiss her and promise "another round" after dinner. This slip of time allowed Lucerys to shuffle himself back to his feet. When the door opened again, another pair of eyes stared down at him.

This is not Saela. Whoever he was looking at wasn't his dear cousin who laughed at anyone's jokes.

The woman half-dressed with red eyes wasn't the sweet lady that cheered him up when Jace won others affection.

The woman who looked like she could kill with her bare hands wasn't his favourite cousin that would sneak down with him and steal lemon cakes and fruit at the hour of the owl.

No, no, the lady in front of him had her legs open to the prince that taunted and mocked his family. This woman accepted the seed of a man who mocked his parentage, called him bastard, and nearly killed him after he claimed another’s dragon.

Aemond claimed Rhaena's dragon yet Saela allows him to do this to her?

This woman called the prince every loving name in the world. She was the lady that wished to have his babes.

"Luke."

The nickname was curt and hard. It was whispered like a needle, pricking his skin without warning. The boy shook his head, unsure if he nodded.

Saela stepped out of the room, her shoulders rolled back and head held up high. The door clicked behind her. Whatever she did in that room, she was used to it. She must always hide and fuck Aemond whenever she wished. Whoever stumbled upon them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was comfortable with the power she wielded in this situation.

The air around the Velaryon and Targaryen grew thick and heavy, challenging Lucerys to breathe. The stare that was sharp as a sword sliced him up and down, silently checking if he was a threat. Of course he wasn't. This woman wasn't scared of a boy like him.

"I always do favors for you." Saela batted her eyes. In a quick second, she was the girl he ran in the halls with when everyone was asleep. The girl that helped him learn most of the High Valyrian he remembered. Her lips crested into the sweet smile he missed after so long.

"You can do this one for me. Right?”

The magic Lucerys looked for was used on him. It was only Saela Targaryen, amongst anyone in their family, that could use magic that would make any man bend the knee without thought.

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x oc #hotd x oc #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen x reader

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