#Dance among swords | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelsfat3 · 1 month ago

Text

ⓘㅤ 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌 ⠀⠀( 你将是我的！)

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 “ ✉. Being an exotic dancer can have its perks, making the bar owner obsessed with you is one of them.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Suggestive, fanfiction, drama, Mafia! Heeseung x Stripper!malereader.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Alcohol, drugs, half-baked sex, blood (mild).

The club was at its peak, lights flickering across the space as bodies swayed to the rhythm of the music. Among them, one figure stood out—[...]—whose lean frame and hypnotic movements drew every gaze. He wasn't just another dancer; he was a living work of art, though he always kept an emotional distance. His job was to dance, nothing more. He wasn’t the type who sold himself for a few hours or minutes. If they wanted his company, they’d have to settle for watching, because his body was his own, and it wasn’t for sale.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the weight of Heeseung’s gaze from the VIP section—a stare that seemed to burn from across the room. It was impossible to ignore. Heeseung had a presence that consumed everything around him, like a predator surveying his territory. His striking face, chiseled jaw, and dark eyes made him stand out even more. But what truly made him intimidating was the effortless control he had over everything around him. As he smoked his cigarette, shirt slightly unbuttoned with a silver chain glinting under the dim light, he seemed to command not just the room, but the situation itself.

[...]—flirty but always mindful of his professionalism—continued his routine, his movements perfectly calculated to captivate but never invite anything more. It was a delicate game, one he knew how to play. Every spin, every glide of his body along the pole was a statement: "You can look, but you can't touch." But when his eyes met Heeseung’s, something shifted. That man had a silver tongue, one that had likely brought down people much tougher than [...] was used to. And worst of all, Heeseung knew it. He knew [...] noticed him and relished the power it gave him.

When the show ended, [...] stepped off the stage with the same grace he had climbed onto it, his eyes locked onto Heeseung's. He knew this moment was inevitable. He had watched Heeseung for weeks, aware that this man wasn’t like the other patrons who frequented the club. Heeseung was dangerous—not just for what he could do, but for what he represented. A man like him didn’t just have money and power; he had the ability to destroy lives with a smile.

Heeseung rose from his seat in the VIP section and approached with the same calm demeanor that defined him. Every step was measured, as though the world revolved around him. When he finally reached [...], he wasted no time.

“How much for the night?” he asked, his voice smooth but firm, as if he already knew the answer. His gaze never left [...]’s, not for a second.

[...] met his eyes, knowing that anyone else would have crumbled under his game, but not him. He couldn’t afford to fall so easily. Even though Heeseung tempted him with that silver tongue and overwhelming presence, [...] wasn’t the type to sell his body. Not for anyone, and certainly not for money.

“I don’t charge for my time—just for my dance,” [...] replied, his tone playful but firm, making it clear he wasn’t for sale. His smile was a double-edged sword, teasing but with enough distance to let Heeseung know he wouldn’t be easy to get.

Heeseung smirked slightly, as if he had expected that answer. His eyes narrowed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, and the air between them grew heavier. “I’m not interested in what you charge, [...]. I’m interested in you,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the noise of the club. “And trust me, it’s not about the money.”

[...] kept his composure, though he felt the pressure of that gaze. He knew Heeseung wasn’t the type to take no for an answer easily, but he also knew how to handle these situations. His body was his business, and no one was going to claim it.

“Heeseung, you’re the kind of man who always gets what he wants, aren’t you?” [...] said, his tone teasing but measured. “But there’s something you need to understand. I’m not part of that ‘everything’ you can snap your fingers and get.”

Heeseung’s smile widened just a fraction, as if he was enjoying the challenge. He took a step closer, invading [...]’s personal space without hesitation. “I don’t bend for anyone, [...],” he said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “But I’ll give you a chance to reconsider. I’m not a man who waits around too long.”

The tension between them was palpable. [...] may have been flirting with the idea, but he knew Heeseung wasn’t like the other men he’d dealt with. This man was determined, serious, and behind those dark eyes, there was a world of danger that [...] couldn’t even begin to imagine. And yet, there was something about Heeseung that pulled him in—something that made him want to know more.

[...] smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Two hours. That’s all you’re getting. If that works for you, great. If not, I’m sure there are others who’d be happy to dance for you.”

Heeseung held his gaze, never breaking eye contact. “Two hours will do for now,” he said, his tone low and controlled. “But trust me, it won’t be enough for either of us. There’s more between us, and you know it.”

As Heeseung stubbed out his cigarette and stepped back, [...] couldn’t help but feel like he had just entered a game far bigger than he had anticipated. A game where Heeseung always seemed to have the final word. But one thing was certain: [...] wasn’t about to give in so easily, no matter how tempting this man was—the man who, with a smile, could burn the world for the right person.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension when [...] finally walked in, making Heeseung wait over thirty minutes. It was deliberate—every second of delay was part of the game, a way to stretch Heeseung’s patience even further.

Dressed in something bold and borderline obscene, yet undeniably elegant, [...] sauntered toward him with slow, calculated steps.

The room—an exclusive, high-end suite known as the Crystal Room—was built for moments like this: low lights, velvet couches, and an unavoidable air of intimacy. It wasn’t like the other club rooms, this was reserved for the high rollers, the VIPs who craved a more personal experience. But tonight, [...]’ focus was locked onto his sole audience: Heeseung.

Heeseung lounged on the couch, watching him, his presence as commanding as ever. In one hand, a crystal glass of whiskey, and between his fingers, a cigarette that he lazily brought to his lips every now and then. His white shirt was undone just enough to reveal his chiseled chest, a silver chain dangling over his skin.

His piercing gaze had never once left [...] from the second he’d entered the room.

“Made me wait, didn’t you,” Heeseung’s voice was low and gravelly as he tilted his head slightly, taking a sip of whiskey. His eyes glinted with desire, but there was an edge of frustration too.

[...] smiled, knowing full well the effect he had on him.

"I just wanted to make sure you were ready for what's about to happen," he teased, his voice dripping with seduction as he moved with fluid grace through the room.

Slowly, [...] began his routine, spinning around the pole in the center of the room with movements that left little to the imagination. But it wasn’t just the dance that captivated Heeseung—it was the way [...] shed his clothes, piece by piece, each move a promise of passion.

First, he undid his leather jacket, letting it slide gracefully to the floor. Then, in one smooth motion, he pulled off his tight shirt, revealing his sculpted torso.

Heeseung’s gaze darkened, and he shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider as his fingers played with the rim of his glass and the buttons of his shirt.

[...] could feel the shift in the air, the way the tension built with each step. His hips swayed slowly, his body arching, drawing closer to Heeseung only to pull away again. The game was clear—the seduction, the tease, the unspoken promise between two bodies that craved each other.

Heeseung, for his part, couldn’t stop readjusting in his seat. With a slow gesture, he began loosening his cool, his eyes never leaving [...]’ form. "You're killing me, you know that?" he muttered, undoing more buttons, exposing his entire chest.

[...] smirked as he spun around, letting Heeseung take in every angle. "Killing you? I thought you liked a little foreplay," he teased, though his eyes remained sharp, focused.

Heeseung let out a dry chuckle, his fingers undoing the last of his shirt buttons, fully revealing his toned chest, that silver chain catching the dim light.

“You know damn well what you’re doing,” his deep voice dripped with desire. "But come here... I don't want you dancing so far away."

Before [...] could respond, he felt Heeseung’s strong hands grip his waist, pulling him onto his lap. The contact was electric, their skin brushing as Heeseung’s breath became heavier. “Dance here,” Heeseung commanded in a tone that left no room for argument.

The contact was immediate, and the heat between them grew almost tangible. [...] slowed his movements as he settled on Heeseung’s lap, feeling the tension in the mobster’s body as he let out a soft groan.

“That’s better,” Heeseung whispered, his hands roaming over [...]’ hips, tracing his body with a mixture of possession and admiration. "Right where I want you."

As [...] moved slowly on him, Heeseung closed his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the feeling of having him so close, his usual control slipping away bit by bit. His hands traveled up [...]’ waist, over his back, until they reached his shoulders.

[...] met his gaze with a seductive smile, grinding slowly against him, creating a friction that only made the tension between them grow. "You like that, huh?" he teased, enjoying the rare vulnerability he saw flicker across his client’s face.

Heeseung’s eyes opened, locking onto [...]’, and for a moment, everything else faded. The room was silent, save for the soft music playing in the background, heavy with unspoken promises.

“It’s not about liking it,” Heeseung whispered, his voice a mere breath as his hands cupped [...]’ face, giving his cheeks a firm squeeze. “It’s about the fact that you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. Completely.”

The heat between them was building with every motion. [...] continued grinding on him, his hips moving slowly on the dominant’s lap, each brush a reminder of the rising desire.

But despite the closeness, there was an ongoing power struggle—a silent game where, no matter how much Heeseung tried to dominate, he couldn’t hide his vulnerability in front of the man who had him hooked.

Heeseung let one hand slide down [...]’ back, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone with his reputation.

“Quit playing games with me,” he whispered with a dangerous smile, his eyes a mix of frustration and hunger. “You know how badly I want you…” His breath was hot against [...]’ ear, causing the dancer’s skin to tingle.

Feeling the intensity of the moment and the growing ache between his legs, [...] leaned forward, his chest brushing against Heeseung’s, his breath hovering just over his neck. “Then why don’t you take me, boss? If you want me that bad…” The challenge in his voice was clear, but so was the invitation.

Heeseung’s gaze darkened, becoming even more intense as his hands gripped [...]’ hips firmly.

“You’re too damn good at this, shit..” he growled with a crooked smile, pulling him closer, eliminating what little space was left between them. “But I’m done playing... tonight, you’re all mine.”

Heeseung held onto [...]’ waist with a possessive grip, his fingers digging into his skin as the brunette’s heart raced even faster. The room felt charged, each passing second deepening the tension. Heeseung’s eyes dropped to [...]’ lips, darkened with desire, and with a sudden decision, he closed the gap.

The kiss was rough, desperate, a crash of lips that had been waiting too long. There was no gentleness, only a raw, primal need that had been building throughout the dancer’s teasing.

Heeseung grabbed [...]’ face with one hand, his thumb pressing firmly against his jaw, holding him in place. The kiss was intense, as if Heeseung wanted to claim every inch of the boy mouth, a hunger he could no longer contain.

The mobster’s tongue skillfully invaded [...]’ mouth, drawing a soft moan from the dancer as Heeseung’s lips moved with more wild urgency, the taste of whiskey and nicotine flooding his senses.

[...] could feel his own body reacting with a growing need, his hands finding their way to Heeseung’s shoulders, clutching at his shirt as the heat between them swelled, unstoppable.

Heeseung let out a low growl, his lips never leaving [...]’, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Every movement was ravenous, like he wanted to devour him whole, and with every passing second, the control he prided himself on was slipping away.

His fingers trailed down [...]’ back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake until they reached the edge of his pants. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he murmured against his lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper those words before diving back in.

[...] could hardly think, his body trembling under Heeseung’s dominance, feeling the growing pressure of the mobster’s arousal beneath him. His mind clouded with desire, overwhelmed by the way Heeseung kissed him, touched him, made him feel like the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.

Heeseung’s hands, quick and confident, slid lower, gripping his ass firmly. The touch made [...] gasp, his body instinctively leaning closer to Heeseung, craving more of the fire that consumed them both, burning hotter with each passing second.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The room was filled with fragmented sounds,

[...]’s muffled moans blending with the steady rhythm of their bodies colliding.

Heeseung had taken complete control of the situation, his body moving with a wild precision as he thrust into [...] again and again, showing no mercy.

The stripper's body quivered under each thrust, his skin tingling, marked entirely by Heeseung's fingers digging into his hips and buttocks, leaving clear reddish traces that would take days to fade.

[...] lay on the bed, his chest pressed against the sweat-soaked sheets, his hips elevated in the air, fully presenting himself to Heeseung. His hands tried to grip the sheets, but he could barely hold on as every movement from Heeseung made him lose any semblance of control over his own body.

He was completely disheveled, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his skin flushed a deep red, a testament to the pleasure consuming him.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was focused on every movement, his gaze locked on how his cock plunged in and out of [...], marking him deep within, claiming him in a way that left no doubt about who was dominating at that moment.

“Look at you… taking me so well,” he growled through clenched teeth, his hands gripping [...]’s ass harder, pulling him apart with a force that only heightened the pressure and pleasure. “No one else will have you like this… only me.”

[...] tried to respond, but the words slipped away. He could barely form coherent sounds; his moans mingled with broken gasps, and every time he attempted to speak, all that came out was a faint stutter from his own lips.

His body was so sensitive that each thrust left him breathless, his mind completely clouded by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

Heeseung's movements grew more aggressive, his rhythm unyielding as he pushed deeper and deeper into [...], harder each time. The sound of skin slapping against skin grew louder, echoing with each wave that rippled across the passive's flushed cheeks, resonating in the room.

[...]’s muffled moans became sharper, his body unable to contain the impact of each thrust, his nails clawing at the sheets as he felt his mind unravel under the pressure.

“I'm going to fill you… until you can’t think of anything else but what we did tonight, how this ass took my cock...” Heeseung murmured in a deep voice, leaning over [...]’s body, his hot breath colliding against the stripper's sweaty back.

Heeseung took one of [...]’s hands and slid it down the side of his body, squeezing one of his glutes tightly, eliciting a stifled moan.

The sensation of Heeseung's touch, combined with the marks he left, made [...] feel completely possessed, invaded by an overwhelming wave of desire he couldn’t ignore. Every time Heeseung’s fingers sank into his skin, it felt like the heat inside him intensified, as if the fire burning between them would never extinguish.

The rhythm quickened, and [...] could no longer hold back; his climax had arrived once more. His moans turned into a constant echo, his body trembling beneath Heeseung as he filled him again and again.

His mind was lost in pleasure, every fiber of his being focused on the intensity of the thrusts, on how Heeseung claimed him without reservation, without mercy.

Finally, when the climax seemed imminent, Heeseung let out a low, deep grunt, gripping [...]'s hips tighter, moving with a brutal rhythm as he pushed one last time with a depth that made him groan in pure ecstasy.

[...]’s body tensed, his back arching from the pleasure of being filled. His mind went blank, his legs shaking from pleasure as his breathing became erratic, releasing soft sobs.

Heeseung, still moving, leaned down to gently bite the skin of [...]’s shoulder, leaving one last mark, a final claim over his body.

"You’re mine, forever," he whispered in a low voice, his lips brushing against the chestnut’s ear as they both collapsed onto the bed, their bodies exhausted yet satisfied, illuminated by the dim light of the moon that still enveloped them.

After a few minutes, Heeseung slowly withdrew, his breath still heavy as he pulled out of [...] with one last deep sigh.

As he exited him, the wet sound and [...]’s faint whimper made him smile with pride.

He watched as the boy’s hips sank heavily onto the bed, too weak to hold themselves up after what they had shared.

[...]'s skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, the muscles in his back taut and trembling as Heeseung gazed at him, utterly pleased.

His eyes drifted downward, darkening even further as he noticed his seed slowly leaking from [...], sliding down to his balls. The sight before him was living proof of his dominance, a testament to how he had marked and claimed the boy’s body during those hours when he had pushed him to his limits again and again.

Heeseung's smile widened, tinged with a mix of perversion and satisfaction at seeing the result of their wild passion.

“You look gorgeous like this, completely filled with me,” he murmured in a gravelly voice, his warm breath caressing the nape of [...]’s neck as one of his hands glided gently down his sweaty back.

He caressed the curve of his hip, making sure to feel every trembling muscle, every trace of exhaustion he had left on his body. “I can’t help but smile when I see you so wrecked... knowing I was the one who left you like this.”

[...], exhausted, could barely move. His body trembled with the remnants of pleasure and painful bliss coursing through him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

Every muscle ached, every part of him marked, not just by Heeseung's hands and lips, but by the brutality with which he had put him into positions he had already lost count of. His mind was foggy, barely aware of where he was.

During the nearly three hours they had spent together, Heeseung had explored every corner of the room. He had flipped [...] over the sofa, pushed him against the wall, laid him across the center table, and finally returned to the bed, each time with overwhelming intensity.

In each of those moments, he had brought [...] to the brink of ecstasy, only to stop just before he could fall, prolonging the pleasure until the dancer's body could no longer withstand it.

[...] let out a low moan as he tried to move, but his body didn’t quite respond. His back involuntarily arched as Heeseung’s trembling hands still caressed him, now with a softer touch, as if savoring the calm after the storm.

The marks from the thrusts still throbbed on his skin, and he felt the heat inside him starting to cool, though the sensations remained as intense as moments before.

Heeseung, still wearing that arrogant smile, watched as [...]’s body surrendered completely.

“You’re beautiful like this... completely mine,” he murmured, leaning down to gently kiss the base of [...]’s back, right where the marks from his hands were still visible. “There’s not a single spot in this room where I haven’t taken you... not a corner I haven’t fucked.”

[...] could only nod weakly, his breathing labored and his mind lost in fatigue. Exhaustion was overwhelming him, but he still felt the echo of pleasure in his body, a constant reminder of what had just happened.

Heeseung slowly lay down beside [...], watching as his body still trembled slightly from what they had just shared. With a cigarette perched between his lips, he took a deep drag, letting the smoke drift through the dimly lit room.

[...] lay on his side, palm pressed against the bed, eyes closed, barely able to move, his body spent after hours of intense passion.

Heeseung exhaled slowly, observing how the stripper weakly shifted, his marks visible on every inch of his skin. His fingers gently brushed against [...]’s back, tracing soft lines on his skin, provoking a faint shiver.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Heeseung asked in a low tone, stroking his body with an unusual tenderness for someone like him.

[...] let out a soft “Mmh...” in response, too exhausted to formulate words but making it clear he was still aware of every caress.

“I hate you...” [...] murmured, his voice weak but filled with satisfaction. “Look what you’ve done to me... my whole body is covered in marks, I can’t even move properly.”

A wider smile spread across Heeseung’s lips, letting out a low, husky laugh. “You hate me? A few hours ago, you couldn’t stop saying how much you loved it when my cock was inside you and how big it felt,” he shot back, his tone playful but satisfied. His hands squeezed [...]’s hips tighter.

[...] rolled his eyes, hiding a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Mmh…” was the only response he could muster.

Heeseung regarded him with calculating eyes, relishing the control he had over him. "What a hypocrite..." he whispered, his voice laced with a teasing tone as his fingers glided down the curve of [...]’s back.

[...] let out a shaky sigh, too worn out to argue, too caught up in the moment to fight against the pleasure still coursing through him.

Heeseung continued to watch him in silence, his hand grazing [...]’s skin with a gentler touch this time, as the tension in the room began to ease.

Heeseung broke the silence again, his tone turning serious. “I want you to stop dancing.” His words were direct, shedding the softness of their previous intimacy. “I don’t want anyone else to see you. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

[...] slightly widened his eyes, though he didn’t respond immediately. Heeseung pressed on, never breaking eye contact. “I can give you everything you want. You wouldn’t need this job anymore... If you want it, I can give you the whole world.” His fingers continued to trace the young man's skin, his cheek flushed from the agitation of the past few hours.

[...] merely smiled, letting out a soft sigh, shifting slightly closer to the taller man’s touch, though it was clear he was listening intently.

“You really... Would you really give me everything?” he murmured, his voice weak but curious, his eyes squinting again from the tender caresses he was receiving, fighting to stay awake.

Heeseung nodded slowly, though [...] didn’t see him. “Everything you want... Just say the word.” His tone was almost hypnotic as he continued to soothingly stroke the weary boy's face and body.

The room fell into silence after that, filled only with the gentle sound of [...]’s breathing. Heeseung watched him sleep, his expression softening as he kept caressing him, waiting, fully aware that [...]’s answer would take time to come.

“Just think about it.”

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I honestly just wrote this idea while listening to this song by Amaarae. Although I didn't think I would add smut either... anyway, I'll do the second part later.︐⠀📍⠀

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

#enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨𝘧𝘢𝘵3ㅤ﹟ㅤ𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽.#enhypen scenarios #sub male reader #x male smut #enhypen #enhypen smut #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader smut #smut #x male oc #kpop x oc #male reader #heeseung x male reader #lee heesung x reader #mafia au #x bottom male reader

546 notes · View notes

lunarsilver · 9 days ago

Text

What are their sexual fantasies?

+18, minors do not interact

A reading regarding your partner - your current one (asking about their permission would be in good taste), or next one, or the most important one, or your future spouse... Whatever you prefer.

(Psst! I will be grateful for your answer to a simple question.)

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

Six of Swords - Strength (R) - Three of Wands (R) - Back of the Deck: Knight of Swords (R)

Six of Swords literally fell out as I was shuffling, which suggests to me this one is pretty important. Six of Swords is about change, leaving something behind and going on new endeavors. It looks like they’re really eager to try something new, maybe their earlier experience with intimacy wasn’t the best for them. Then we have Strength in reverse which seems to confirm that they felt or feel kind of trapped, and they fantasize about lashing out their raw emotions. The deck I use does not have a sexual theme, but this specific card has one of the most sensual imagery among all the cards in this deck: a woman, full of confidence, poses in just heels and lower underwear, a bra tossed aside. She’s very flexible and has a snake tattoo on her leg. I think your person wishes to be so flexible and confident in their body. The imagery brings a strip club or a sexy dance for a partner to my mind, and while there is a chance your person would like to see someone doing this kind of act (I guess going to a club like this would fit the theme of trying something new), for most this card is simply about having the courage to embrace one’s body and desires. Reversed Three of Wands says this person experiences some delays, some problems on their way to express themselves, and this leads to frustration. Knight of Swords in reverse confirms that. Your person is pretty frustrated sexually, and for some reason is unable to take action. As a side note, both Six of Swords and Knight of Swords in this deck show swords, so maybe some people here would like to try knife play? What’s interesting is that, in the way they lie now, all these swords point in the same direction, but what is exactly this direction? That’s unclear. Let’s pick up some more cards.

I asked for the reason why your person cannot fulfill themselves sexually and why they feel frustrated, and the cards are Seven of Swords (R), King of Cups, The Tower (R) and at the back there is Six of Cups. To put it short, it looks like they have this mental blockage. They may feel like they aren’t worthy of it, or it simply doesn’t fit them. For some, they grew up taught to think about sexuality as something shameful. I think the King of Cups represents them, and if so, they look really lovely and in tune with their emotions. They are at the start of their personal transformation and rediscovering what they like. No specific fantasies came here in this reading, other than the desire to have the courage to try to do what they are or may be into. It could be good to create a safe space for them, tell them that if they want to try something, you may always discuss it together. Whether you’ll actually do it is another matter, but letting them know having sexual desires isn’t shameful is pretty important here.

PILE 2

The Tower (R) - The Hierophant (R) - Two of Wands (R) - Three of Cups - Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands

Only after I realized I pulled four cards instead of three, I guess they have a lot to say lol. We’re starting with The Tower in reverse, so your person wants some inner change. The Hierophant in reverse is about questioning the rules, about freedom. Your person fantasizes about exploring, most likely about doing some kinky stuff. They’re excited about it, they want to do it, but they’re not ready and lack a proper plan or preparation (Two of Wands in reverse). However, it is clear they fantasize about celebrating their and their partner(s) bodies, treating sex as fun, as shown in Three of Cups. For some, Three of Cups suggests them fantasizing about threesomes. A side note, but a lot of cards show some pets, some on a leash, and I cannot help but wonder whether your person fantasizes about some kind of pet play. I think the reversed Knight of Wands at the back represents your person: impulsive, ready to action, fiery and with high libido, but probably they should do some research first. I felt like pulling some charms, asking what this person has to tell you, and the messages are “it will be better”, “I am with you”, “you are a master” (or maybe they want to say you are their master; whether “the master of their heart” or a master as in a BDSM dynamic - I feel like for quite a lot of you, pile 2, your person is a proud bottom, maybe a power bottom or a little a brat lol), “do what you love”, “you can count on me” and “fresh perspective”.

PILE 3

Ten of Cups - The Empress - Knight of Cups - Back of the Deck: The Magician

Okay, all upright, three out of four cards show people, two Major Arcana and two cards of Cups, plus three out of four cards are mainly pink and red. This person knows what they want and they like to be as clear as possible, they’re emotional and aren’t ashamed of it, that’s what I get right off the bat. Ten of Cups shows they’re pretty romantic, they fantasize about an ideal, fulfilling, committed relationship. The Empress and Knight of Cups represent you and this person - and I feel like for most of you, you are represented by the Empress and they are Knight of Cups, given how romantic and emotional Knight of Cups is, and how romantic is your person. The Empress and Knight of Cups look at each other from their respective cards. They look tenderly, smiling a little, and their eyes are on the same level. This person clearly fantasizes about an equal relationship, where at the same time they can adore you and spoil you. The Magician at the back suggests they manifest this relationship. Like, your person is so sweet, I asked about sexual fantasies and all that came out is that they want love. As an afterthought, the Empress is the only card having different colors than the rest, which only further proves the rest of cards is their energy and the Empress is you. I asked for some messages from your person to you and pulled out these charms: “I’ve been looking for you everywhere :*”, “I love your smile”, “something nice will happen to you”, “it makes me want to live”.

#divination #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a card reading #cartomancy #general reading #tarot reading #free tarot reading #pick a pile #18+ tarot #18+ mdni #future spouse tarot #future spouse

336 notes · View notes

nihilityuniverse · 4 months ago

Text

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Do NOT Repost.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 0 - Prologue

[Lament of the Fallen]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I have lost everything."

The relentless battle against the Honkai beasts rages on, your katana slicing through their monstrous forms with a desperate fury. Explosions erupt around you, the searing heat mixing with the blood and sweat that drips down your temples. The ground is littered with the fallen, comrades who once fought beside you now lifeless amidst the swarming beasts summoned by the Herrschers.

"My family..."

The horrifying sight of humans, transformed into mindless Honkai zombies, fills you with dread. Your grip on the handle of your Divine Key falters as you witness your little sister and brother among them, feasting on the remains of fallen soldiers. Tears blur your vision as you dash towards them, the agony of what you must do tearing at your soul. With a heart-wrenching cry, you end their suffering, beheading the only family you had left. You had promised to protect them, to create a peaceful world for them.

"My dear comrades..."

A wall of flames engulfs the encroaching monsters, giving you a momentary respite. Kalpas, your grey-haired, masked comrade, stands before you, his power saving you once more. Exhaustion is etched on his face, but he urges you to keep moving. Before you can respond, a piercing laser beam shoots through his chest, and he crumples to the ground. One by one, your friends fall, their bodies lifeless on the battlefield. The bonds forged in blood and battle, severed in an instant.

"My world..."

The battlefield is a graveyard of Honkai beasts and fallen soldiers, their bodies buried beneath layers of ash. The sky above is a mournful grey, reflecting the lifeless desolation around you. You stand alone, the sole survivor amidst the ruins. Have you won the war, or merely survived its horrors? The answer eludes you.

"And..."

In your hand, you clutch your new Divine Key, forged from the shattered remains of 70,033 blades and the essence of twelve Herrschers. You gaze up at the bleak, grey sky, the weight of your existence pressing down on you.

"I realize now..." You unsheathe your Divine Key, Nihility, unleashing your Active Honkai Reaction. Golden cracks spread from your right hand, blossoming into ethereal flowers. Your hair turns snow-white, your skin pale as ivory. Golden horns sprout from your head, and your eye color turns into gold.

"I've lost myself."

"...That the ultimate fate of this world is nothingness, and therefore, worthless... or even the whole universe?"

With a final, devastating swing of your Divine Key, you begin to unravel the very fabric of this world, reducing it to void, to nothingness. The ground beneath you crumbles, the sky shatters, and everything you fought for dissolves into oblivion. As the world collapses around you, you raise your katana high.

"Yet... I still want to stay..."

With a heavy heart, you turn the blade upon yourself, splitting your soul in half, and embracing the void.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Snowflakes drift gently from the dull, grey sky, their delicate forms hitting softly against your window. You stare blankly at the wintry landscape, your mind lost in the endless dance of the snow. Your right hand, adorned with claw-like metallic finger guards, rests against the cold glass. As you blink, the serene snowflakes transform into ashen rain, and the snowy ground becomes a graveyard, littered with swords and corpses.

Startled, you stumble back, your heart pounding in your chest. The haunting vision fades as quickly as it appeared, leaving you standing in the quiet room. A single tear escapes your eye, tracing a cold line down your cheek. You wipe it away, confusion mingling with the sorrow etched on your face.

"... A forgotten memory?" you whisper, your breath fogging the glass.

Before you can ponder the vision further, a knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. You turn away from the window, your expression hardening. "Come in," you command, your voice firm yet distant.

The door creaks open, and a Fatui Skirmisher steps in, bowing deeply. He holds a letter in his trembling hand, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Lord Innamorati," he begins, his voice wavering with fear. "A letter from Her Royal Highness."

'Her Highness?' The title feels foreign, a distant echo in your mind. You frown, trying to grasp the fleeting memory.

"Can you remind me of her name?" you ask, your tone soft yet icy, sending a shiver through the skirmisher despite his thick winter coat.

"H-Her Royal Highness Tsaritsa, the Cryo Archon," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod slowly, the name stirring something within you. A fleeting sense of purpose, lost in the haze of your fragmented memories. "Thank you," you say, your voice carrying a trace of melancholy. "My memory... it often fails me."

The skirmisher quickly hands you the letter and exits the room, his relief palpable. You turn to your desk, the weight of the message heavy in your hand. If the Cryo Archon herself has written to you, it must be of grave importance. Did something terrible happen? Or have you forgotten another mission?

You break the seal and unfold the letter, your eyes scanning the contents. With a sigh, you crumple it and toss it into the trash. Your hand instinctively moves to the scabbard where your Divine Key, Nihility, rests.

"A funeral..., huh?" The words hang in the air, heavy with sorrow and resignation.

You move to the window once more, the snowy landscape a stark contrast to the inner turmoil you feel. The snow outside is pure and untouched, but in your mind, the vision of the dead and the desolate ground lingers. You know that each snowflake, each fleeting memory, is a piece of the past that you can never fully grasp.

In the quiet of your room, you can't shake the feeling that you're losing more than just memories. You're losing yourself, piece by piece, like the snow melting away under the weight of the ashes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reblog if you like this story

434 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 6 months ago

Text

The Downfall (Oneshot)

[ Hamlet • dark Aemond x Ophelia • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, fingering, virgnity loss, violence, suicide, angst, smut, obsession, remorse ]

[ description: When she attracts the attention of Prince Aemond during the wedding feast of his brother and his sister, she knows that something terrible is going to happen. His figure lunges towards her like black storm clouds and she feels that, along with his desire, he will bring on her downfall. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Tis I who should receive this honour. I, second son, rider of the greatest dragon in the world, experienced in wielding the sword, educated in history and philosophy, 'tis I who should…" He didn't finish, pressing his lips into a thin line. He stopped in the middle of the chamber, not looking at her but at the floor, his eye wide open in rage, his nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

She swallowed hard, clenching her fingers on the material of her gown, sitting in one of the chairs at the table, fearful of him as usual when he behaved in this way, making her unsure how to act.

To endorse his words would have meant betrayal, so she had to remain silent, though her heart was pounding like mad in her chest, a drop of cold sweat running down the back of her neck.

Their betrothal had come as a surprise to her; the prince had caught sight of her at a grand wedding feast held in honour of his brother and his sister, dancing among dozens of other couples.

She dared not look at him, knowing of the arrangements between the Red Keep and Storm's End, not wanting to ridicule herself by begging like some of the women for his attention.

Apparently that was what made his bright, cold, dangerous eye notice her figure and his sight did not leave her until the end of the evening. At first she thought she was just imagining it, then, however, glancing towards the table standing in front of the Iron Throne she met his gaze, his lips curving into a grin that was disturbing to say the least.

She was terrified.

The next day, her father was asked to extend their stay in the Red Keep and enjoy the King's hospitality, though it was not explained to them for what reason.

She was frightened because she understood what it meant – she never went anywhere alone, always taking a servant with her, having heard numerous stories of what Prince Aegon did to women who caught his eye.

She didn't want to see for herself if his younger brother was the same.

It seemed to her that black clouds had gathered over her, that it was a matter of time when something would happen, and indeed, when she came across him passing through the courtyard during one of his sparring sessions, though she turned her head away, his deep, mocking voice stopped her.

"My Lady."

She swallowed hard, knowing that if she didn't answer anything, if she didn't look at him, she would commit a great discourtesy and offend him.

She couldn't afford it.

Therefore, she turned towards him, looking at the ground, seeing only his legs and waist clad in black leather garment, bowing before him.

"Your Highness."

She felt for a moment that her heart stood in her throat – the only thing she could hear around her was the clinking of steel and the voices of servants discussing something with each other behind her back. She saw the legs she was looking at move towards her and she closed her eyes.

"What a scared little bird you are. Hm?" He hummed, his voice soft and teasing at the same time, amused, as if he were speaking to a small child.

She swallowed hard and looked up at him – he towered over her with a smirk that was mysterious and unsettling, his healthy eye bright and wide open, his gaze piercing to the core, his lips swollen and full.

She felt herself grow hot with shame.

What was she supposed to answer to such a question?

The prince cocked his head, apparently ignoring her silence, taking advantage of the fact that they were standing so close to each other, watching her as if she were some curious being he had never seen before.

"I watched you dance last night. Did you feel my gaze lingering on your figure?" He asked, and she swallowed heavily, lowering her gaze, involuntarily betraying herself. The Prince grinned under his breath, seeing her reaction.

"You did." He said and looked to the side, as if he wanted to make sure no one would hear what he was about to say, leaning over her ear. "I will marry you."

She drew in the air loudly, shocked and surprised, freezing for a moment, tense, looking at him with big eyes – she shook her head, not understanding how he could say such a thing. He, however, only grinned broadly in a way that made her shudder and stepped away from her, turning to Ser Criston Cole, letting him know that they could continue.

Ser Criston gave her one terrified look that told her everything.

She was doomed.

She didn't tell her father about the prince's words because she was convinced that he was mocking her, wishing for certain that she would succumb to him and spend the night with him, only to disappear from his life forever.

She knew she couldn't let that happen if she wanted to marry any self-respecting lord and decided she would just stay inside her quarters.

And then their betrothal was announced.

There was a feeling of emptiness in her mind as she looked at him, at the wide, mischievous grin stretched across his face as he sat at the table, while his mother, the Queen, spoke to her of the King's decision, apparently persuaded by his son, wondering how she was supposed to tame such a man, tame such a fiery, unpredictable nature.

She was scared.

To her despair, her father had been invited to take on the role of one of the treasurers under the direct authority of the Small Council, which he welcomed with joy. It meant that their family was to stay in the Red Keep, and her betrothed could slowly clamp his claws around her neck.

He followed her like a wraith, sinking her further and further into his darkness, making her slowly melt into one with him, not knowing where his soul ended and hers began.

On the day he was to see his nephews again years later, she locked herself in her chamber, unwilling to watch this theatre of malice and humiliation – she knew what her betrothed thought of them, how often he mused about slitting their throats or gouging out their eyes to later gift them to his mother.

She knew he was furious, wanting to show her off like a pretty object he had in his possession, but she offered him a passive resistance that drove him to the brink of madness.

She drew in a loud breath as he surprised her by silently sneaking up to her chamber at night – she heard the loud creak of the wood beneath his body as he lay down behind her.

His one hand took place on her womb, as if he was already imagining in the back of his mind as it swelled from his seed, the other went under her jaw, stroking her skin warningly, his lips against her ear.

"You're hiding from me. You're avoiding me. You move through the keep like a shadow." He whispered, however there was no threat or frustration in his words, which she felt instead in his hand that slowly clenched around her long neck. She swallowed quietly, looking ahead at the night, starry sky outside the window.

She did not answer him.

She rarely used words in his presence.

Unfortunately, this only deepened the state she aroused in him.

A curiosity bordering on obsession.

She tilted her head back and sighed involuntarily, feeling the tickling heat spilling over her lower abdomen as his moist, full lips ran over her cheek, the tip of his tongue leaving a wet, cool trail on her hot skin.

"– I needed you –" He hissed in a trembling voice, pressing his body against hers from behind – his hard, swollen manhood hidden under the material of his breeches pushed against her buttocks, pulsing steadily. Her nipples hardened at his words, a shiver of fear and excitement ran down her spine.

His hand from her womb slid lower, between her thighs, his fingers closed on her womanhood – she knew how he learned these tricks, knew that he had played with whores before he met her, but she couldn't convince herself that she particularly cared.

The delicacy and uncertainty of the movements of his fingers did not match how she perceived him: apparently it seemed to him that one too aggressive gesture on his part and she would fall apart in his hands.

Thus, he merely teased her through the material of her nightgown, waiting as usual for her breath to grow heavy and ragged, for her buttocks to begin to roll to the flicks of his wrist and rub against his throbbing erection.

They both moaned quietly as his hand impatiently lifted the material of her long robe, seeking the warmth between her thighs and finally found it, her pulsing, swollen slit leaking from her sticky wetness.

The fingers of his hand from her neck rose higher, to her cheeks, closing on it in a rough gesture, forcing her to turn her face in his direction – she didn't resist him as his slick tongue burst deep between her lips, as his mouth pressed against hers with a loud, lewd click in a greedy, ravenous kiss that took her breath away.

She let him do whatever he wanted with her lips – he was sucking, licking and biting them, as if he were some kind of animal that had grabbed its prey and wasn't going to let her go until he devoured her.

She didn't care, because her mind seemed to be muffled, as if she was underwater, focused only on the touch of his fingers as they dug into her puffy, delicate folds, teasing again and again her warm, pulsing opening.

Her body tensed like a string, knowing what he was about to do, and then at last the tips of his fingertips broke into her hot, throbbing interior with a quiet click of her moisture.

She moaned a tad too loudly into his mouth, making him sigh deeply into her throat, freezing for a moment, his hard erection slapping impatiently against her buttocks.

"– fuck –" He gasped, startling her completely – he let her go and turned her onto her back, laying on top of her, looking at her with his mouth parted wide, breathing heavily.

She had thought that, as was his custom, he would just simply take out his manhood and make her squeeze it with her hand, touching her at the same time to give her fulfillment.

He, however, after he untied the material of his breeches, grabbed her nightgown with his hands and lifted it above her thighs, making her voice froze in her throat, her hands clasped helplessly on his shoulders.

"– n-no – no, please –" She muttered, knowing that if he took her maidenhood, took what he desired, he would never marry her, would send her and her father back to where they came from humiliated and ridiculed.

"– I need this – I need to feel you –" He breathed out, as if he was in some kind of frenzy, heedless of her helpless attempts to stop him, forcing her to spread her thighs open. She cried out, tilting her head back, closing her eyes as she felt the head of his cock begin to push against her swollen slit.

"– no – please, Aemond, please –" She whimpered, raising her trembling hands to his cheeks, stroking his jaw, trying to give him what he wanted, what he was apparently dreaming of in his black, grim mind.

"– you don't understand –" He growled, in a sharp, impatient motion trying to slide deeper into her, opening her little cunt on his throbbing, long erection. "– I fucking needed you today –"

She whined as he forced his way deeper into her body, filling her so much that she felt like he was going to tear her apart from the inside – she clenched her fingers against the material of his leather tunic, shocked at how foreign, frightening, painful and exciting this sensation was.

"– I know – I know, just a little bit more – it's almost in – shhhh –" He hushed her, stroking her head with his broad hand as he thrusted his thick root all the way in into her, one last cry of effort left her lips.

She seemed to feel him with her whole being, breathing loudly through her mouth, feeling like she was suffocating – her heart pounded like mad, her whole body quivering in his arms, his lips placing warm, moist, reassuring kisses on her cheek.

"– that's it – there we go – I'm going to start moving now –" He hummed, in a slow, lazy manner beginning to rock his hips, sliding out of her a little and sliding back in with a quiet click, trying to force her body to adapt and receive him with greater ease.

He hugged her face to the hollow of his neck, without accelerating or making sudden movements, letting her fingers tighten vulnerably on his back.

"– good girl – calm down and let me fill you with my seed –" He whispered, as if he wanted to soothe her, to reassure her that he took no pleasure in her discomfort and suffering, even though he himself was the cause of it.

She nodded, not having the strength to stand up to him, breathing loudly to relax, to endure what he wanted to do to her. A low, loud groan of pleasure erupted from his lips when he felt it, and his thrusts became a little more sure, deep, loud.

"– g-gods –" She breathed out, feeling with horror that he was teasing a spot inside her from which shivers ran through her, waves of cold terror and hot pleasure surging through her body, causing a complete void in her mind – all she could focus on was the wooden canopy of the bed above her head.

"– yes – ah – so fucking wet for me – all warm and soft –" He breathed out into her ear, licking her hot cheek with his tongue, pounding into her with sharp, deep thrusts of his hips, making her feel the tickle in her lower abdomen, in her puffy lips and in her hard nipples, the bed beneath them began to creak loudly.

She felt the familiar hot tension building within her, the tension that he aroused in her when he touched her with his fingers, that, to her despair, she began to take pleasure from this animalistic, simple act of slapping their naked, sweaty bodies against each other.

She tilted her head back and sighed as she let her hips tentatively begin to roll to his thrusts, her hands slid from his back to his bare buttocks, stroking them. He shuddered all over and groaned, blindly seeking her mouth with his own, joining her in a sticky, messy, loud kisses, licking and sucking her lips.

"– yes – yes, just like that, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckkk –" He gasped, pressing his forehead to hers, slamming into her so quickly and aggressively that he was barely sliding out of her, his thighs slapping against her buttocks again and again, opening her wide on his throbbing, fat cock.

They both were moaning shamelessly, looking at each other wide-eyed with their mouths open, listening to the shameless, sticky sounds her slick cunt made with each of his thrusts.

"– just a little more – ah – f-fuck, yes –" He groaned in elation, his final, deep, messy slaps prolonging the inevitable – she heard and understood little as a wave of pleasure shook her and something hot spilled deep inside her, their mingled wetness ran down her buttocks.

"– such a good girl –" He gasped, pulsing inside her for a moment longer, filling her with the remains of his spend.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, feeling her little cunt clamp down on his half-hard manhood, sucking it inside her again and again.

He fell on top of her without strength, panting heavily, and they both remained silent for long time. She finally heard him swallow hard, not even daring to look at her, his face sunk into the crook of her neck.

"– will you forigve me, little bird? –" He muttered in a weak, deep, trembling voice.

At his question a single tear of sadness, regret and emptiness ran from the corner of her eye down to the side of her face, falling onto his forehead.

He felt it and lifted himself on his arm, wanting to look at her, but what he saw apparently made something inside him break.

He clamped his eyelid shut, swallowed hard and pressed his body against hers, burying his face in the pillow.

She didn't know why her hand lifted and laid on his head, stroking his hair with gentle, calm movements, why she felt a squeeze in her heart, why she wanted to comfort him.

Why she let him stay with her that night, cuddled into to her as if he were a small child.

And then the King died.

Her betrothed walked into her chamber the next day, pale, not looking into her eyes, twitching all over, as if in shock.

"My father is dead…" he began, and her mouth opened wide, looking at him in horror, "… and my grandfather demands that I marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters."

She stared at him dully, feeling her heart stop in her chest, her stomach twisting in pain as if she was about to vomit.

"I admitted to my grandfather what I did to you. I refused to let him send you away. You will become a Septa. You will be safe and retain your dignity I wrongfully took from you." He said and flinched hard as she grinned at his words, looking at her in disbelief.

"Do you think I'm surprised? I knew you wouldn't keep your word the day I saw you."

It seemed to her that something in her words broke him, for his lower lip began to tremble without the participation of his free will, his eye turned red, his nostrils twitched in heavy, accelerated breathing.

He was unable to get anything out of himself.

On the evening of the day before she was to leave the Red Keep, she demanded that a bath be prepared for her.

She knew he would come to her, she knew his conscience would not let her go without a farewell, she knew he would want to take her one more time before he abandoned her once and for all.

When she was left alone she slipped under the water, sinking her head into it as well, and closed her eyes, feeling strangely calm as the air stopped flowing into her lungs, a shudder shook her body indicating that some part of her still wanted to live.

It was said afterwards that the prince had found her and pulled her out of the water, that he had sobbed and wailed over her bare body, that he had locked her in his embrace, not allowing anyone to come near her, kneeling with her cuddled into his chest on the cold stone floor.

It was said that after that evening he stopped to speak and leave his chamber, staring dully into the fire for hours, playing between his fingers with a lock of her hair, the only memento he had left of her.

It was said that the prince's heart had died with her.

588 notes · View notes

artthatgivesmefeelings · 5 months ago

Text

Henryk Hektor Siemiradzki (Polish, 1843-1902) Dance among swords, 1881 Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow

106 notes · View notes

madamabelladonna · 3 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝: House Dayne of Starfall, bearing the sigil of a white falling star and a sword on a field of lavender. Though sparse in men and coin, House Dayne is renowned as one of the oldest in Westeros. Sworn to House Martell, under the decree of their liege lord, Lord Julius Dayne dispatched the Sword of the Morning, his second son, Ser Merek Dayne, along with his only daughter, to King’s Landing as emissaries of Dorne. Little did they know, the twinkle of a star could ignite the passions of men, dragons, and wolves alike. 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Romance, Angst, Love Triangle, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, Drama, Coming-of-Age, Explicit Content, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Violence, Gore, War, Reader eating cheerios with Luke and Helaena while Jace, Cregan, and Aemond duke it out 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 Young Lady Dayne never truly grasped what it meant to be a high-born lady; her mother and father had sheltered her from the vipers lurking in the shadows. Yet, as fate would have it, their protection could only shield her for so long before she was cast into a den brimming with treachery. Green or Black? The choice is hers, but she finds herself drawn to the hue of violet…

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 Young Lady Dayne, finds herself adjusting to her new life at the capital. A gift from Starfall, a steed with a mane like freshly fallen snow. As she immerses herself in the pages of her books, a small figure unexpectedly scampers into her chamber—a boy lost in the game of hide and seek. She finds herself teaching the boy how to read. Only to be seated in the company of Princess Rhaenyra and her small family, sharing a quiet tea.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐀𝐟𝐚𝐫 Young Lady Dayne, awaiting Jacaerys' lesson's end, enjoys tea with Princess Rhaenyra, who grants her access to the Royal Library due to her rare gifts. As she reads beneath the heart tree, a prince in green watches her, sparking jealousy within the eldest son of Rhaenyra. With Jacaerys' eighth name day nearing, their growing relationship seems to be all the court can talk about.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕: 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐡𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 Young Lady Dayne captivated the feast held by King Viserys in honor of his grandson, her presence and dance stirring much interest among the court. The murmurs of a possible union between the Seven Kingdoms and The Principality of Dorne swirled in the air, though beneath the revelry, rumors threatened to unravel such hopes.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕: 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 Young Lady Dayne knew survival in the Red Keep required more than caution—it demanded influence. After keeping her distance from Jacaerys, she finally accepted his apology, truly forgiving him. But as he left, she realized it might be long before she saw him again. In his place, a prince in green awaited.

[More in pending...]

This is my first post so I hope you like it, personally, House Dayne is my favorite and I hope it gets more recognition in the next book.

Taglist: (If you want to be added, please click here)

@yohanseyebrowmole @radiantdanvers @accidentpronedork @marvel-mistress-padawan @tabathastan @deltamoon666 @hotdhoe @cosmosnkaz @dragonamongwolves @r-3dlips @ghizlana @boiolay @gardenfaeries @ilymoonie @mellylla @omgsuperstarg @idohknow @beskardroids @buckystevelove @plainxlazy @gwaynehightower @beebeechaos @milksde @saintkittykat @cornbreadwithcheese @pinkb00bsocks @agoldenwoe @moonliightbabes @day2dream @geminizmoonz

358 notes · View notes

sinizade · 8 months ago

Text

B'ella, the Pale Child (Dark Urges Redeemed)

Class: Warlock (Barbarian subclass)

Romance: Bae'Zel

Besties: Scratch / Owlbear / Wyll / Gale / Karlach

One extra egg among all those eggs wouldn't make a difference, nor would they complain about having two extra hands to fight for the "glory" of their queen. This way, the hatching of this egg surprised the elders of that Creche a little, a child as pale as the moon and with eyes as red as blood that possessed a fury worthy of a demon, certainly that child had something inside it, but the Githyanki wouldn't get rid of a healthy child just because of surpestitions based on one of the babies' appearance... But should they?

B'ella was obedient, precise, deadly, her teachers could see and feel the almost insane pleasure she felt every time she beat her opponents in training, every time she made them bleed and beg... Something so... Sadistic... Even for a Githyanki child, it was unusual to have such an appreciation for death and the ways of killing, but then again, they weren't going to get rid of such a dedicated and useful fighter like her just out of superstition.

Her adulthood was only accompanied by an insatiable hunger, B'ella could have had her uses in combat, an animal, a monster, but when her abilities began to affect other Githyanki they finally realized that having her there was no longer safe or suitable for Creche, so in a clear desperate act they tried to contain B'ella, they tried to tame the monster inside her... The Slayer, but that obviously didn't go as they expected and her sadistic, cruel and psychotic fury spread to everyone in that Creche. Every teacher, every warrior, doctor, student, child, egg, all murdered, torn apart in a bloody dance that spread throughout each hall and that was when she heard a voice, a small creature that praised her... A praise that she never found she was going to receive, told her that there was a place where she could be who she really was, where she could know what it was like to have a family that truly admired her for what she did...

That male human, that Enver Gortash, intelligent man. Tasting Gortash, subduing him to her whims was satisfying, but her devotion was only to her creator, to her god, to her father, Bhaal... But everything had been thrown into the trash with the betrayal of that insolent child, that damned and jealous changeling who took her rightful place.

Waking up on a ghaik ship with no memories left her disconcerted, but her focus now was to get out of there and return to her people and achieve purification. Having someone as adept in battle as Lae'Zel made it easier since the rest of her companions with the exception of Karlach left the pale gith with disgust in her mouth regarding combat.

It wasn't so bad being around that bunch of big noses, they entertained her, they seemed to care about her dark desires, not just for them, but also for her? This was new, not even she remembered the last time she received any kind of help (literally)

Lae'Zel... Zhak vo'n'fynh duj... B'ella could barely understand what she felt, she could barely know what she felt, she didn't know or remember that feeling, but with Lae'Zel everything was clear. .. She was her world, her sword, her flame, the source of her joy...

Finding out that she wasn't a child of Gith broke her, even if she managed to hide it well, it destroyed her completely inside, knowing that the years she spent in her Creche, that her "egg", that her life, was a fake life designed by her "father". That wasn't for her, even if it once had been, now it wasn't... B'ella would no longer be a Bhaalspawn, now she would be a child of Gith and follow Orpheus and her beloved Lae'zel into battle against Vlaakith's tyranny

Some extra information about B'ella

Her memory was "reset" to her times at Creche as soon as she lost her memories, before her dark impulses took over.

She has a strange habit of keeping a lock of her enemies' hair for no reason, she just likes to have a memory of good battles, but when the enemy wasn't good enough she just crushes its head (She has a lock of hair with her from the hair of Minthara/ Ketheric/ Raphael)

Even though she appears to be reserved and cold, B'ella is considered TOO romantic when she is with Lae'Zel and only Lae'Zel, only her source of joy can see B'ella that way

589 notes · View notes

just-a-ghost00 · 9 days ago

Text

FS Series : random facts about them

Group 1 - Smallville

2 of cups, ace of swords, The Fool

They tend to stutter and act silly around the person they like. They get tongue tied easily and those could be tell tale signs they are into you when you meet them.

They are super chatty once they feel at ease and may sometimes act like a baby to make others smile or laugh, especially in romantic connections.

They could be into greek mythology or be a history nerd overall.

They left their home at a really young age to pursue their dreams.

They enjoy dancing.

They tend to overthink quite a lot. When it comes to you, you would know that they are worried when they suddenly stop talking and stare into the distance.

They love travelling and trying out new things. They have a bit of a reckless attitude sometimes and tend to get themselves into tricky situations without intending to.

They always have funny and heartwarming stories to tell about their past and the things they love. They're a good story teller and could want to write a book.

They get lost in their thoughts pretty easily because they are very dreamy which results in them getting lost or losing the train of conversations. They're like in their bubble or on a cloud and sometimes that can infuriate people around them.

They could mirror you in a lot of ways and one thing this person could do to show you they like you is to mimick you or take interest in the things that you like. So if you ever notice this person starting to drink coffee when they've told you several times they disliked it, know they're head over heels for you.

They look way younger than their actual age. They also tend to sulk and pout to make you feel guilty in arguments.

Group 2 - Buffy the vampire slayer

3 of swords, The Devil, Wheel of fortune

Your person could have SM tendencies and some of their kinks involve restraints. They could be into kamishibai, for instance. BDSM overall seems to be their thing.

They can be quite wealthy. Kind of old money vibe.

They can be of a different culture than yours.

They have been to very exotic places in their life, either for work or for vacational purposes.

They are an overachiever and a workaholic. Which is part of the reason why they may be influent and wealthy.

They have gone through a lot of downs in their life. Those downs could have included severe depression, harsh breakups, addictive behaviors, risky behaviors like driving way past the speed limit among others. They could also have gone through a phase of their life where they were a serial dater and were only hooking up for a night or two with various people.

They are a bit of a daredevil. This person tends to take high risks especially if they are heartbroken. They may gamble a lot.

They have a rather dark and intense vibe to them. Their fashion style could be along the lines of gothic / dark grunge aesthetics. They could wear a lot of black, paint their nails, have a lot of tattoos or piercings.

They tend to thrive and do their best when they feel like their back is against the wall. This person is likely to procrastinate a lot only to ace a project or a homework at the very last minute. They work well under pressure and are not afraid of pain. They may even unconsciously seek it.

This person is incredibly lucky, which kinda ties with the previous point. It's like they were born under a good star because no matter what this person does, no matter how chaotic their life may get or how bad their habits may be, they always manage to prevail somehow and come out not only stronger but also victorious and richer than they were before.

Group 3 - F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Queen of wands, 8 of wands, page of wands

This person is extremely outgoing and bold. They immediately light up a room when they walk in and tend to be a bit dramatic.

They could be a drag Queen / King. They could also enjoy acting, performing, being under the spotlight.

This person's sense of fashion is definitely on point. They are extremely attractive and I wouldn't be surprised if they were a model. If they aren't, at least they post a lot of fashion related content on their socials.

They are very active. They are restless and may do a lot of different activities as a way to release stress. This can both include artistic and athletic activities.

This person is very outspoken and tends to advocate for greater causes. They could be a member of a humanitarian organization or could promote such initiatives around them.

This is a person that is very feminine, regardless of their gender. They tend to wear make up and jewelry.

They talk and type extremely fast. They could speak many languages. They are chatty. This is a person that could be of African, Afro American or Middle East Asian descent. I am also picking up on islands all over the world.

They are flirty AF. And also kinky AF. They have a lot of drive, passion, stamina that they hardly repress. They could struggle with ADHD for some.

They can't keep a secret. They love gossiping. They are extremely funny and could enjoy being a comedic. They could also be into rap music.

#just-a-ghost #pick a card #pac reading #tarot reading #love pac #future spouse series #future spouse reading

168 notes · View notes

targaryen-dynasty · 10 months ago

Text

TO STOKE A FLAME.

Aemond Targaryen x servant!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, oral (m receiving), power imbalance (prince and maid), mutual pining, female Reader

WORDS: 4K

NOTES: this is written for the writing challenge hosted by @targaryenvampireslayer I got the prompt "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good" and the trope mutual pining. This was my first time writing mutual pining, and I hope it's at least slightly fitting lol.

When you’re first assigned to cleaning the chambers of the King’s second son, your heart leaps for it means you are able to escape the tortures of being a scullery maid for a position that is at least a bit higher ranked, and not as ungrateful and strainful.

Prince Aemond is an early riser, already up long before first light, and whenever he sets off to train with the sword in the morning, it’s time for you to take care of his quarters.

There’s another maid that has been offered the same opportunity, only that she is in charge of making the chambers Prince Aegon presentable, and from what you have gathered, you wouldn’t want to trade places with her.

Aemond’s chambers are always immaculate when you step into them. Everything is in its place, and the air is always filled with the cool morning breeze from the windows he’s kept open. Quite different to the quarters of his older brother.

But what they do have in common are their questionable reputations.

While Aegon is promiscuous, known to pinch and fondle at any serving girl who strays within his reach, Aemond is somewhat feared, at least among the staff. Most servant girls keep well away from the prince, and a part of you is certain it is solely because of the black eyepatch he dons after losing his eye, and the grim expression he usually holds on his face.

The other maid that tends to his chambers with you is overly cautious when dusting or putting fresh linens on his bed, something that even makes you swallow thickly. However, you can’t seem to bring yourself to share their sentiment.

How could you?

Despite only meeting the prince very briefly, you feel like every day that you sweep through his chambers, you get to know him more and more. If there’s bedlam following in Aemond’s wake when he leaves in the morning, it merely consists of several books scattered all over his desk, his armchairs and sometimes even his bed.

Most of them deal with dragon lore, history, and a variety of other subjects which you wouldn’t expect to be read by any other lord, making clear that the prince is very well educated, and always strives to learn more.

And though he keeps his chambers mostly spotless, there’s very much of his personality in them – if you read between the lines.

More oft than not, the armchairs close to the fireplace don’t stand in their usual positions, turned to the side to face each other with one of them being piled by books or scrolls. And you know from the servants that he’s often found sitting beside the fireplace either in deep thought or engrossed in a book with the flames of the fire dancing in the corner of his eye.

You’re cleaning his quarters all by yourself today for Darla, the other maid assigned, has been called to take care of something else, which means you’re granted slightly more time for Aemond’s chambers.

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, you’re knocking off as much ash and debris as possible back into it, before some of it is swept up and emptied into the pail standing next to you.

You’ve been a bit too engrossed in your task when the doors behind you burst open, catching you by surprise and startling you. There’s only one person that could and would enter the prince’s quarters at this hour of the day – the prince himself.

As you hurry to get back on your feet, already straightening and dusting off the skirt of your maid attire, you’re a bit too quick and hit your head on the ledge of the fireplace, your mob cap falling to the ground in the process.

It’s a stinging pain that shoots right through your whole body, and a throbbing that settles at the crown of your head. You bring a hand up to soothe the pain at least a bit, before you’re reminded of the reason why you got up in the first place.

Gritting your teeth, you take in a sharp breath and lower your hand, bobbing a small curtsy with a strained ‘Prince Aemond’ leaving your lips to the man that stands still in the room, clearly regarding you.

“My apologies, I–” you say, trying to make excuses and wanting to state that you’re just about to leave, but he cuts you off.

“Are you well?” he asks, though there is a lilt of amusement in his voice. “I apologize for startling you, that was not my intent.”

What’s even more unusual than him apologizing to you, a servant, for barging into his own chambers is that he's inquiring about your well-being. You’ve never before been acknowledged by any of the Targaryen’s, not that you expected it, and feeling his gaze on you kind of makes you nervous.

He raises his brow when there doesn’t come an answer from you, and you take it as your cue to speak. “I–Yes, Prince Aemond,” you stutter, bowing your head. Raising it again, your hand brushes the crown of it briefly, the spot still throbbing despite it happening a few moments ago. “I am well. It’s–It’s nothing, my prince.”

Gathering your things, you’re caught off guard for a second time since he’s entered his chambers as he slowly approaches you. He has a sympathetic smile on his lips now, and you’re not sure if it’s the embarrassment or him coming close enough to tower above you, but your body feels like it’s been put on fire.

“Are you certain you’re well?” he asks, eye flitting from your head to meet your eyes. “You’ve struck your head rather hard.”

He reaches to inspect the spot on your head, yet he hesitates and pulls back right before his fingers could brush your hair. You’re slightly disappointed, but your pounding heart is grateful. Just the mere proximity brings a blush to your cheeks and has you shifting your weight from one leg to the other, and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle him touching you.

There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court.

His voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade, smooth and somewhat calming. “What’s your name?”

Taking in a deep breath, you tell him your name, but not without your eyes darting to the ground. His gaze is heavy, too heavy for you to meet it, and you feel as though there’s something else than curiosity woven within it.

“You’re quite flustered over nothing,” he hums, and the way your name slips past his lips with so much ease almost makes you melt right then and there; at least it’s enough to make you forget that he’s clearly noticed the effect he has on you.

Aemond takes note of you being nervous around him, his attention causing your blood to rush through your veins. It seems as though it’s a rather strong reaction that you have to him, something not many women feel when he comes near them. It’s endearing.

Your eyes flicker upwards to meet his good one again, and you straighten your back for another curtsy.

“M-my apologies, Prince Aemond.”

You can spot the exact moment the corners of his lips curl into a teasing smirk, your timid demeanor and your nervousness the trigger for it. And being as cocky as he is, he thinks he could have a bit of fun with you.

“It seems you’re rather out of sorts for something so trivial,” he notes, his tone teasing and playful, matching the flicker of mischief in his eye. “Perhaps I should inspect you myself to see if you have in fact sustained any injuries.”

His words make you feel as if the world around you is slowing down, making everything feel almost unbearable. You’re finding it incredibly hard to look him in the eye without blushing or your breath becoming heavy, and therefore fix them on the ground again. Noticing his large feet in comparison to your much smaller ones, your thoughts briefly stray to what else of him might be large.

But before you can answer him, or your thoughts can dive deeper, Aemond places a hand beneath your chin and gently tilts your face back up for you to meet his gaze. You’ve only seen one other in passing, and even then you’re certain he’s paid no mind to you at all, so his touch comes unexpected. But you don’t tense, and you certainly don’t pull away. However, you’re unsure if you should give in and lean into it.

His finger brushes along your jawline, trailing down the curve of your neck, and coming close to your collarbone, a heat following in its wake. He stops for a second, as if he’s debating whether or not he should move his touch any further.

Aemond’s surprised by your reaction, yet he also realizes that you’re much more interesting than any of the other maids for they were all alike – all not daring to look at him or stay in his presence for longer than a few minutes. But you’re different.

He could already tell by the way you so neatly clean and store his books when he’s spent his night reading by the fire, or how you seem to pay extra attention when you’re putting fresh linens on his bed, fluffing his pillows without the hurry the previous chambermaid has had.

And seeing his touch having such a significant impact on you, the little maid he’s spent so much time dreaming and fantasizing about, feeds a desire he didn’t have before – the desire to bed you, to claim you.

“Get on your knees,” he orders, hooded eye looking down at you.

Swallowing thickly, your mind struggles to comprehend what he asked of you. “I-what?” you stammer in disbelief.

“You heard me. On your knees.” He’s a bit firmer now, and uses the slight grip he has on your shoulder to give you a little help sinking down. You follow his lead, the pail rattling onto the ground.

Your hands are folded in your lap when you gaze up at him, eyes wide and curiously studying his next move. With your thumbs brushing over each other, you try to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, grazing your skin to distract yourself from the throbbing that blossoms between your legs.

Aemond looms over you, reaching out to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s something in the position you’re in, and the combination of his gentle touch and stern orders that gets to your head, and lures you in to lean into his hand. It also makes you a bit bolder as you place a hand on his thigh in return.

It piques his interest, obvious in the way he raises a brow, and his eye flickers to where your hand rests on his body. But he doesn’t shy away from the touch.

“Do you know what I require of you?” Aemond asks, sterner than before.

You bow your head, batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. “I do, my Prince.”

That’s all he has to hear before he swiftly unlaces the front of his breeches and tugs them down barely enough to free his cock and stones, the sight alone making your breath hitch in your throat. He’s well endowed, and far bigger than the cock of the one man you’ve slept with before.

You release a shaky breath, replaying all the knowledge you’ve gathered about pleasuring a man with your mouth, and catch a whiff of musk mixed with the salty smell of sweat – he’s definitely trained with the sword this morning.

Squeezing his thigh, your eyes flicker between his and his hard cock as the slight nod of his head encourages you to curl your hand around it, your thumb and index finger barely touching.

He throbs in your palm already, and the tip is covered in a red that makes it clear he’s desperate to be buried inside of something; probably not caring whether it’s your mouth or your cunt.

Even though you cower beneath his dominating presence, a jolt of boldness strikes you that makes you lean in and lick a flat stripe from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip. A salty taste lingers on your tongue as you drag it over the slit, making you hum appreciatively, seemingly pleased to witness the effect your touch and presence have on the prince’s body.

Aemond buries his hands in your hair, loosening the bun you’ve put it into this morning, and grabs a fistful of it. It’s a sharp tug of him that catches your attention, and your wide eyes flit up to meet his demanding gaze.

Spurred on by the heavy breaths moving his chest, you swallow, and eventually part your lips to slowly ease him inside, and even though he holds you by your hair, he’s generous enough to not force himself inside, allowing you to move as you please.

“Fuck,” he growls as he gets accustomed to the warmth and tightness of your mouth, head tipping back to release a bawdy groan.

You hollow your cheeks around him, and, after a few moments that allow you to adjust to him, start to bob your head back and forth his thick length, flattening your tongue against him for added stimulation.

Growing bolder and bolder with each passing moment, you squeeze your thighs together every time the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, robbing you of the ability to breathe until you pull off of him again.

With his hand in your hair, Aemond senses you getting more comfortable, and starts to guide your head along his member, encouraging you to set up a quicker pace to which you eagerly comply.

“That’s it,” he groans, not able to tear his eye from the sight of your lips wrapped around him as his cock repeatedly disappears inside of your mouth.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips down your chin with how fast you sink down on him, and the lewd sounds of his soaked cock sliding back and forth past your lips fill the prince’s chambers, hardly drowned out by his grunts and groans.

At this point, you’re drenched in your arousal, the linen of your small clothes clinging to your swollen mound in a way that’s almost uncomfortable.

While you bring one hand up to clasp around the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh a bit harder than before, holding onto him for dear life as he uses your face however he pleases.

You feel the muscles of his thigh tense and contract under your palm and his cock throb inside of you, indicating that he’s close to reaching his peak. It’s the first time you pleasure a man with your mouth, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. But before you can brace yourself for whatever might come, Aemond pulls you off of him by your hair, prompting you to topple back to sit on your haunches.

You lock your teary eyes with his good one, lips smacking as his musky and salty taste spreads on them and your tongue. “My Prince, I–”

“Remove your clothes,” he interrupts you, his voice less friendly and more a command.

There are so many thoughts rattling your mind right now, and you don’t know where to start and what to process.

“I wasn’t asking,” he growls, his impatience showing as you don’t comply quickly enough.

With a bow of your head, you rise to your feet and peel the beige-ish apron off of your body, the red dress and smallclothes following suit. You waste no thought on your modesty, on the fact that you’re standing bare in front of a prince of the mighty House Targaryen. The longing for him that has built with all the days you’ve cleaned his pristine chambers, and the undeniable aching between your legs don’t allow you to.

You’re undressed when he stalks around you, regarding you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. You see that your obedience arouses him, his hard cock throbbing and bouncing with each step he takes around you. It’s thrilling in the best way possible, and the feeling of being desired by him feeds your confidence.

“Are you just watching, or will the prince undress as well?”

His eye narrows and flickers up to yours at your question, and there’s the hint of a smile adorning his features. “Would you like that?”

Biting your bottom lip, a blush creeps on your cheeks. “Very much.”

As you size him up, you notice a flush blossoming from his cheeks down his neck, the same warmth you feel obviously spreading through his body, too.

“Then I suppose that I’ll oblige.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothing, slipping out of layer after layer, starting with the black leather robe, and ending with his smallclothes.

You all but drag your eyes over his lithe frame, taking in every muscle that ripples beneath his pale skin, and every silver, coarse hair that trails from below his navel to his cock and the sac of his stones.

It seems like he basks in your attention, in the way you stare at him in awe as you lick your lips, and he’s certainly not afraid of showing himself in his full glory.

“Get on the bed,” he says, smugly. “On your hands and knees.”

This time you know better than to take a few seconds to comply, bowing your head before climbing his bed right away, getting in the desired position. You suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed, completely at his mercy in a way you’ve never experienced before. However, your curiosity and desire overshadow any reservations you could have.

“Pray tell, have you lain with a man before?” You feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he slowly settles behind you. His hands find your hips, and you shiver with anticipation.

Looking at him from over your shoulder, you nod. “Just once, my prince.”

A soft hm rubles in his chest at your words, and he raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. You certainly seem to take him very seriously, which isn’t unusual given his station, but it’s your honesty that’s a whole different matter to him. “You enjoyed it, I presume?”

Still meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. You’re hesitant to answer, not sure why it’s of importance, but he doesn’t seem willing to let you off the hook just yet. “Yes, I did.”

Aemond gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze at that, and shuffles close enough for you to feel his cock press against your arse. “Would you be willing to again?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a grin, but fail miserably. The prince behind you takes that as his cue to continue, and you’re most grateful when you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your soaked folds.

“Just relax for me,” he purrs, his eye fixed on the motions of his hand, watching as his cock disappears inside of you. “I’ll make it feel good.”

The moment you stretch around him, you take in a sharp breath, his cock breaching your cunt at a teasingly slow pace that makes sure you feel every vein and ridge of him drag along your walls.

With his hands coming back to rest on your hips, he pulls you onto his cock until his hips press against your arse, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘shit’ he mumbles doesn’t go unnoticed by you, a renewed wave of your arousal drenching his cock and the sac of his stones.

If his impatience hasn’t been running thin before, it certainly does now, because the first gentle, sensual thrusts are quickly replaced by merciless pounding. You don’t mind it for you’ve been thoroughly soaked, and enjoy the feeling of his cock repeatedly brushing the spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.

Aemond brings a hand between your shoulders, applying a good bit of pressure to press your chest down and your face into the pillows. Your head turns to the side, but you’re not able to look at him.

His breathing is heavy, strained pants leaving him, and his hand trails back to grope your arse.

“Fuck, what an obedient girl they’ve ordered to take care of my chambers–of me,” Aemond rambles behind you, bowing forwards to put a bit more of his weight on your small frame. “Taking me so well. Giving me exactly what I want.”

The praise goes straight to your head, and you want to answer, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by quiet whimpers and whines that grow wanton as he splits you open with a hard, percussive thrust. Then another follows, and another, keening at the sweet sounds you make only for him.

Not able to focus on anything else than the pressure building inside of your belly, you push your hips back against him, and he counters by pulling you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfways which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin to echo off the walls.

He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, that you’re certain you would keep going even if someone is to barge into his chambers, interrupting you.

As his hand snakes beneath your body to make contact with your pearl, you’re overcome with the true knowledge of how experienced Aemond actually is. He strums your body like the most talented lutenist, bringing you closer towards your sweet release.

“Gods, I–” you whine into the pillows.

The taut string inside of you snaps, and the pleasure within you soares through your veins. White, hot pleasure clouds your vision, his arm around you the only thing keeping you up right now.

“That’s it,” Aemond grunts, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, catching in your throat with little to no time to fill your lungs with air.

And then, his hips stutter, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. He twitches and trembles so much that he’s forced to still his hips, and you take it as your cue to roll yours against him, helping him through his peak.

The throbbing only stills once you’ve milked him for every drop of his seed and the last bit of the euphoric high subsides, making him come back to his senses.

But there’s not much basking in the proximity for you, not when Aemond pulls out almost immediately after, climbing off the bed to get dressed again. The red dress is crudely thrown into your direction, silently making clear that it’s time for you to leave.

It seems as though he’s embarrassed, because he has a hard time meeting your eyes, and doesn’t look at you when you get back in your clothes. But perhaps you’re just not catching the subtle glances he throws into your direction as your maid attire comes back to hug your curves.

Tying the apron and fixing your hair, you reach for the pail. It’s then, with you bowing forwards, that you finally feel his seed trickling out of your cunt, and the sensation alone makes you shiver in an uncomfortable way. You certainly have to look for a quiet spot in the keep where you can clean yourself, since you’re not done working.

You head for the door, but before you open it, his smooth voice catches your attention again.

“You may leave now, but I expect you to come back and finish your task at the Hour of the Ghosts, for you have not cleaned the fireplace thoroughly enough.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

562 notes · View notes

thelargefrye · 10 months ago

Text

February Filth Fest : DAY TWO : CHEATING / CREAMPIE … mature one - shot

pairing : gangster!seongjoong x f!reader

genre : smut, high & low au, strangers to maybe lovers, pinch of angst if you squint

word count : 2.6k

warnings : language, cheating (your bf cheats on you so you cheat on him🤷‍♀️), so douche boyfriend, smoking, a little drinking, kind of fighting, little crying (but in a good way, promise)

smut warnings : unprotected sex, implied threesome, creampie, pet names (doll, princess)

honorary suffer tag : for my bestie braincell @sanjoongie

your boyfriend cheats on you, so you seek out the two most feared men in your district for revenge.

DAY ONE ↤ HiGH&LOW: MATZ ↦ DAY THREE

"you want us to do what?" seonghwa's eyes feel like they are piercing through your body as he stares down at you, eyebrow raised. you obviously surprised him, but he's too calculated to actually show that surprise. he's a feared leader within the sword distract, he can't afford to act surprised.

"i want you guys to help me get revenge on my boyfriend," you repeat yourself, showing him and his partner, hongjoong, that you are dead serious.

"revenge?" hongjoong says as he stands up to move towards you. he bends down to where you're eye level, an evil smirk overtaking his face. it makes you consider whether you should have even come here, but you can't back out now. that bastard of a boyfriend needs to pay. "what kind of revenge are you looking for doll?"

"he's cheating on me," you say looking at hongjoong and its his turn to raise an eyebrow at you this time. hongjoong turns his head to look at seonghwa, the eldest of the two clenching jaw as he rolls his neck. his 'matz' tattoo proudly on display as he does so and you can't help but to lick your lips.

seonghwa exudes a display of power that you have never truly experienced before, and that's probably what makes him so feared among all the different gangs. which was exactly why you wanted him and hongjoong to help you with this revenge.

"cheating, huh?" seonghwa says, reaching into the inside of his jacket pocket and pulling a pack of cigarettes. he takes one out before slotting it between his lips and effortlessly lighting it with his lighter. you note the metal and detailed design on his lighter, custom made.

"and how would you want to get this revenge, doll?" hongjoong asks, grabbing your chin and making you turn your attention to him.

seonghwa blows out a puff of smoke from his lips the smile time you look at hongjoong with a grin of your own. "i'm glad you asked."

the music was loud as you walked through the club. so loud that you could feel the bass vibrating through your entire body. the lights of the club were flashing a mix of vibrant colors and you almost started to strain your eyes.

and not to mention how packed it was in here, you rarely went clubbing for this very reason of not being a huge fan of packed crowds of sweaty, drunk people. usually you would have had someone's elbow in your ribs, but tonight was different. people parted the way like you were royalty.

well... it wasn't because of you, but the one who had their arm draped over you. you were pulled closely in seonghwa's side, your body leaning into his. hongjoong was leading the two of you, a lot of people moving out of there way and you noticed a few odd looks some club-goers gave you.

which you honestly wouldn't blame them. you were wrapped around one of the most dangerous and feared men in the city and walking through a club with two of them. you would give yourself a weird look too. but you really, you didn't have time to think about these people. there was only one person who needed to see you.

your douche soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

you soon found yourself in the vip section, looking down at the dance floor, your eyes scanning everywhere for your boyfriend. hongjoong came to stand next to you, arm around your shoulders as if he was also looking.

"do you see him?" he asks, and you're surprised you can hear him from how loud the music was.

"i don–

right as you're about to say no, that's when you spot him, wrapped around a girl as they grind against each other and it makes you cringe a little.

"right there! in the black button up," you say pointing at him and hongjoong lets out a chuckle as he pulls you against him.

"you could definitely do better than him, doll," he says. "the girl is pretty," he begins to add and you can't a wave of uneasiness crash over you, but before it could drag you under hongjoong adds, "but you're prettier. especially in this dress seonghwa picked out."

you turn to see him grinning at you and he cages you between the railing and himself. you run a hand down his chest, his bright orange fur coat standing out even against the flashing club lights. and you had to admit he was right, the sequin red dress that seonghwa picked out did not only make you look hot, but you felt like it too.

funny how these two men could make you feel something your boyfriend never could. your eyes flicker behind hongjoong to see seonghwa sitting on the leather seating, cigarette between his lips as he takes a long drag, his eyes locked on you and hongjoong. you felt a chill run down your spine and goosebumps cover your whole bond thanks to his stare alone.

"shall we go have fun now that we found him?" you ask hongjoong with a tilt of your head and hongjoong can't help but let out a small laugh.

"i knew there was a reason why i liked you, doll, that feistiness gets me going," he says, grin on his lips before he's leading you down the stairs.

like seonghwa, hongjoong was quick to drape his arm around you, showing you off as people parted for the two of you, mainly him. he lead the two of you over to the bar, the bartender immediately seeing hongjoong and coming over to get your orders. while you two waited, you looked around and spotted your boyfriend at the other end of the bar with some of his friends.

you felt an odd rage course through you knowing that he was having the time of his life partying, drinking, and cheating on you. while he thinks you're at home and waiting for him to return. you feel hongjoong's arm move from your shoulders to your waist. you turn away from looking at your boyfriend to hongjoong who's already grinning at you. he slides your drink over to before taking a sip of his own.

you quickly down your drink, "i have to use the bathroom," you say before slipping away from hongjoong; however, hongjoong stops you before you get too far away from him.

"go to seonghwa if i'm not here, okay?"

"okay," you say and he gives you a smile before letting you go and turning back to his drink while also ordering another from. and so you make your way to the bathroom.

when you exit the bathroom, you begin to make your way back to the bar, back to hongjoong, but before you could get too far you are stopped. a hand grabbing your wrist and a little too aggressively pulling you back. you let out a surprise yelp as you're turning around and coming face to face with your boyfriend.

"holy shit the guys were right," he says looking at you with surprise all over his face. "i didn't believe them and then i saw you at the bar with... with kim hongjoong. what are you even doing here?"

"what do you mean? am i not allowed to party like you?" you ask, pulling your wrist away from him, an eyebrow raised.

"that's not what i mean," he says, letting out an annoyed sound, "what are you doing here with some gangsters? everyone saw you came in draped around park seonghwa like you were his girl."

"because she is my girl, bastard," you see your boyfriend go pale at the voice behind him and you both look behind him to see seonghwa standing there with a bored expression.

"what are you talking about? i'm her boyfriend! not some thug like you!" your boyfriend says, trying his best to sound intimidating. however, it takes a lot more than a puffed chest to intimidate seonghwa.

"really?" seonghwa says with an annoyed laugh as he rolls his neck, his tattoo standing out boldly in the moment. "you claim to be her boyfriend, yet you're here with another woman instead of her. she's not yours anymore fucker, she's mine. princess," he says, now addressing you, "go get hongjoong. we're leaving."

you nod your head, but before you could get away your ex grabs you by the wrist, stopping. "you're not leaving with these punks until we ta–

he's cut off when seonghwa grabs himself by the collar and shoves him away from you. you notice a burning fire in his eyes as he stalks towards your ex who begins to back away scared by seonghwa. but then seonghwa stopped and turned towards you once more, "princess, go get hongjoong," he told you again and this time you went without anything stopping you.

"hongjoong, seonghwa wants to leave," you say, tugging on his orange fur coat. hongjoong sets his drink down before getting up and following you towards where you left seonghwa and your ex. you tell hongjoong what happened and you notice the grin the takes over his face.

seonghwa meets the two of you outside the club and you notice his knuckles are a little red and busted. however, you choose not to comment on them. instead you watch as he lights another cigarette, taking a drag before blowing the smoke out. his eyes look up to meet yours and can't help but feel something run through and straight to your core.

"your boyfriend is gonna get his shit out of your apartment tonight," seonghwa says as he guides you to get into the car – you honestly didn't notice the car too busy drooling over seonghwa.

"ex-boyfriend," you say, turning to him as you climb into the car and slide over for him to join you. hongjoong rounds the car and gets in on the other side of you. hongjoong says something to their driver before he leans back.

hongjoong wraps his arms around your waist, "i've never been more happy to hear that a word more in my life." seonghwa lets out a laugh at his partner's words. "now we can have you all to ourselves, right doll?"

"right."

you let out a moan, feeling your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as seonghwa pounded into you. you felt your thighs burn from how he has you folded in half and hands gripping the flesh of your thighs tightly. you're pretty sure he'll marks later, but you don't really care now nor will you later.

seonghwa also lets out a series of moans and a few stuttered curses as he continues to thrust into your pussy. his cock stretching your walls out and filling you up as his tip continuously hits your sweet spot. you sling your arm around his shoulder and neck as you let it run down his back, raking your nails down him as you do so.

you feel seonghwa's lip press against your neck leaving open mouth kisses before pulls away to lick up your neck before he's sucking on the skin.

"h-hwa," you moan out as seonghwa moves to sit up slightly in order to thrust harder into you. "fu-f-fuck! so good~"

"you really doing a number on our doll aren't you, hwa?" hongjoong from behind the two of you. hongjoong had fucked you first, cumming in, and kissing you until your lips bruised before he slipped out of you and off your bed to rest in the chair by your desk.

he had a cigarette between his lips when he came to stand behind seonghwa, promptly smacking his ass and making the elder of two turn and send a glare. hongjoong only laughed at his partner before grabbing seonghwa by the back of the neck and crashing their lips together.

even through the kiss, seonghwa's hips didn't falter as he kept a steady pace. when the two separated, seonghwa seemed to have gained some extra energy as he continued to drill into you. his thumb coming down to vigorously rub at your clit and you couldn't help the moans and whines that escaped you.

"f-fuck, you feel so good," he grunts out as he wraps his arms around your body and rolls the two of you over so you're now on top. you feel seonghwa's hand run through your hair before gripping it harshly and crashing your lips together. his tongue enters your mouth and you note it tastes like smoke and whatever drink he had at the club.

when he pulls away as you feel his hands roam over your body, groping different parts of you as he begins to harshly thrust into you from below at an almost unthinkable pace. to be honest you had never felt this pleasured before, your ex never making you feel the things both hongjoong and seonghwa have made you feel.

you can't but bury your face in his neck, tears welling up in your eyes at the overwhelming feelings that this man is making you feel.

"hm, do-does it feel g-good, princess?" seonghwa asks, feeling your walls clench around him. he voice becomes rather breathy, his thrust getting longer as he grabs your ass.

"s-so good," you say, voice shaking and you silently cry from how it all feels. and then like a wave pleasure washing over your body, you cum. you let out a loud moan-sob mixed with seonghwa's name and you also pumps his cum inside you.

your mind is fuzzy as you lay on top of seonghwa, both of you sweaty and out of breath. your body stuck to his thanks to the sweat and also how you don't have the energy to move.

you feel your bed dip next to you and seonghwa before a hand comes to rest on your back, running up and down before gently pulling you off and away from seonghwa. his cock falls out of you and you whine at the emptiness; however, hongjoong's hand comes down to spread your pussy lips apart and showing off your cum-filled cunt.

"god, look at pretty our doll's pussy is," hongjoong says pressing a kiss to your temple. you look to see seonghwa looking at the both of you with grin on face before he's sitting up and moving to sandwich you between himself and hongjoong.

"why are you crying princess?" seonghwa asks, hand coming up to brush the tears away. you won't lie, his softness surprises you. his eyes that are usually cold and hard are now soft and his voice is gentle in a way. soothing. you didn't even know you were fully crying.

"hmm?" hongjoong cranes his head to look at you, a pout now on his lips as he looks at you. "what's the matter doll?"

"i guess all the emotions from today and from my ex cheating on me has just finally hit me," you confess with a small laugh. "i had never felt so much pleasure before, so i guess it just overwhelmed me... in a good way."

"your ex never made you cum?" seonghwa asks, reaching over to grab a cigarette before lighting it. he rests next to you and hongjoong, against your headboard and smoking. you crawl a little bit away from hongjoong in order to sit at the end of your bed.

"figures," hongjoong says when seonghwa passes him the cigarette. "spineless fucker, imagine the poor girl who's stuck with him now."

you can't help but let out a laugh as you watch the two of the most feared men in your city share a cigarette and gossip between each other about you ex. it sure was a funny sight to see honestly.

you watch seonghwa talk a long drag before putting the cigarette out, "come here, princess. you don't have to worry about that bastard and his no pleasurable dick anymore."

you smile, nodding before crawling between the two men and immediately laying your head on seonghwa's chest as hongjoong hugs you from behind. "thank you, joongie, hwa."

tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso

network : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

#lost paradise : fff.#joongfryefff24 #cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez hongjoong x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez hongjoong smut #ateez seonghwa smut

666 notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 6 months ago

Text

Heal Me - Percy Jackson x Female reader

Summary: Percy flirts with you while you heal him during a game of Capture the Flag

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: injuries

Y/N's POV

As the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with hues of gold and pink, the infirmary of Camp Half-Blood buzzes with activity. The day's Capture the Flag match has left its mark, both on the battlefield and in the infirmary. I take a moment to soak in the atmosphere, feeling a sense of camaraderie among my fellow children of Apollo.

The infirmary is a symphony of healing, with each of us Apollo offspring moving with grace and purpose. Our hands, guided by our father's divine gift, dance over the wounds of our fellow campers, weaving spells of restoration and comfort. The scent of medicinal herbs hangs in the air, mingling with the soft murmurs of our incantations.

As I finish tending to a particularly nasty wound on a camper's arm, I turn to see Clarisse La Rue hobbling in, her usually fierce demeanour marred by signs of fatigue. Despite her grumbling, there's a sense of resilience in her eyes as she recounts the day's events.

"It seems you've been through quite the ordeal," I remark, offering her a reassuring smile as I guide her to a vacant cot.

Clarisse snorts, but there's a flicker of appreciation in her expression as I begin my assessment of her injuries. The gash on her arm speaks of fierce battles, the bruise on her thigh a testament to her determination, and the burn mark on her shoulder a reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows of the forest.

"Those opposing demigods won't know what hit them," she grumbles, though her tone carries a hint of pride amidst the pain.

With practiced hands, I apply soothing salves and healing spells, easing her discomfort with each gentle touch. As the last of her wounds begins to mend, I can't help but feel a surge of admiration for her resilience in the face of adversity.

"There," I say, offering her a warm smile as I finish my work. "You'll be back on your feet in no time.”

Clarisse grunts in acknowledgment, but her eyes hold a glimmer of gratitude as she pushes herself upright, ready to face whatever challenges await her beyond the walls of the infirmary.

As I meticulously tend to Clarisse's injuries, I can't shake the relief coursing through me that I'm not out there on the battlefield today. While the thrill of Capture the Flag has always enticed me, there's a different kind of fulfilment found within the walls of the infirmary. Here, amidst the scent of herbs and the soft hum of incantations, I find solace in the quiet yet profound satisfaction of helping to mend my friends.

Across the room, my brother Will navigates the challenges of a compound fracture with his usual calm and skill. The young Hermes camper, fighting back tears of pain, finds comfort in Will's gentle touch and soothing words. Our eyes meet briefly, sharing a silent understanding of the importance of our roles here. In this sanctuary of healing, we wield our abilities to safeguard the well-being of our fellow demigods.

Just as I finish applying a healing balm to Clarisse's arm, the infirmary door creaks open once more, revealing Annabeth supporting a barely-conscious Malcolm. Without hesitation, I rush to their aid, joining Annabeth in guiding Malcolm to a vacant cot. His injuries are severe—a deep cut mars his forehead, likely inflicted by the sharp edge of an Ares child's sword, while his leg is twisted at an awkward angle.

Instinctively, I assess the extent of his injuries, my heart sinking at the sight of his pale complexion and laboured breathing. But there's no time for despair. With focused determination, I set to work, channeling the healing energies bestowed upon me by our divine parent to mend Malcolm's wounds and ease his pain.

As I work, a sense of urgency drives me forward, fuelled by the knowledge that every moment counts in our world of constant peril. Yet, amidst the chaos, there's a profound sense of purpose that anchors me—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is light to be found in the healing touch of a friend.

"Thanks," Annabeth says, her voice carrying a hint of weariness despite her determination, "They set a trap for us near the creek. I should have seen it coming.”

I offer her a sympathetic nod, understanding all too well the dangers lurking in the shadows of the forest. "It sounds like you had a close call. I'm glad you're okay.”

A silent exchange of gratitude passes between us as Annabeth squeezes my shoulder before slipping back into the fray outside. The battlefield awaits her, but here in the infirmary, we continue our quiet work of healing and care.

Turning my attention back to Malcolm, I apply a soothing poultice to his bruise and carefully tend to the cut on his forehead. Each action is imbued with a sense of urgency, a silent prayer for his swift recovery in the face of adversity.

As I finish wrapping Malcolm's injured leg, the infirmary door swings open once more, admitting Percy Jackson. His usual air of confidence is overshadowed by the weariness etched into his features, his body bearing the scars of battle. Deep claw marks mar his chest, a testament to the ferocity of his adversaries, while a vicious burn on his arm adds to the litany of injuries he carries. A pronounced limp accompanies him, signalling the presence of a serious sprain or break.

Despite the severity of his wounds, Percy's gaze remains steady as he meets mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. In this moment, words are unnecessary—our shared understanding of the dangers we face is enough.

"Hey," Percy says, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips despite the bruises marring his features. "I think I might need some help.”

I arch an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smile at his antics. "You do realise you can heal yourself with water, right? There's a perfectly good lake just outside.”

He shrugs, his grin turning sheepish. "Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see my favourite Apollo camper, would I?”

Percy's flirtatious banter washes over me, stirring a mix of amusement and warmth within. Despite the chaos and injuries, his easygoing nature never fails to lift my spirits. But beneath the teasing lies a subtle tension, a hint of something deeper that tugs at my heartstrings.

Suppressing a smile, I step closer to Percy, my concern for his injuries overriding the flutter of emotions stirring within me. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to be the best healer in camp," I reply, injecting a mock confidence into my tone. "Now, let's get you patched up before those wounds start attracting monsters.”

Before I can even finish my sentence, Percy is already in motion, swiftly shedding his shirt and armour with practiced ease. As his shirt slips off his broad shoulders, revealing the intricate network of scars and the defined muscles beneath his skin, I can't help but notice the subtle shift in the atmosphere around us.

The infirmary seems to hold its breath as Percy sits before me, his physique a testament to the trials he's faced and the battles he's won. His sea-green eyes, flecked with gold like sunlit waves, shimmer with determination and resilience, a reflection of the depths of his soul. His hair, as black as the depths of the ocean, falls in untamed waves around his face, framing his rugged features with an air of wildness and defiance. There's a hint of stubble along his jawline, a reminder of his journey from boyhood to manhood, marked by trials and triumphs.

But it's not just Percy's physical appearance that captivates those around him; it's the aura of strength and vulnerability that surrounds him, drawing others to him like moths to a flame. Despite the scars that mar his skin and the burdens he carries as the son of Poseidon, there's a warmth in his smile, a kindness in his gaze that speaks volumes about the goodness within him.

As Percy moves with a grace that belies his injuries, the other girls in the infirmary can't help but steal glances in his direction, their eyes lingering on his chiseled features and the effortless confidence with which he carries himself. Some whisper among themselves, their voices hushed with awe and admiration, while others offer shy smiles or lingering looks of appreciation.

But amidst the silent admiration, I remain focused on my task, to tend to Percy's wounds with precision and care. As my hands work to mend his injuries, I can't help but feel a sense of connection to him, a bond forged in the crucible of battle and tempered by the fires of friendship.

As I continue to tend to Percy's wounds with precision and care, a sense of focus descends upon me, blocking out the whispers and stolen glances from the other girls in the infirmary. My hands move with practiced ease, guided by the healing energies of Apollo as I work to mend the gashes and bruises that mar his skin.

Sensing the need for a better angle to properly treat the gash on his chest, I make a split-second decision and sink to my knees in front of him. The move catches Percy off guard, his sea-green eyes widening slightly in surprise before a mischievous grin spreads across his lips.

"Well, well," he quips, his voice laced with playful amusement. "If you wanted to get between my legs, Sunshine, you only had to ask.”

His words send a rush of heat to my cheeks, flushing them crimson as I glance up at him, momentarily lost for words. Despite the teasing tone, there's a warmth in Percy's gaze, a silent reassurance that eases the tension between us.

Clearing my throat, I focus on the task at hand, my hands steady as I continue to tend to his wounds. Percy's thighs part slightly at my presence, a silent invitation that doesn't go unnoticed, sending a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, Percy’s taking the cloth from my hand and tossing it aside, the action catching me off guard. Before I can react, he hooks a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. I can't help but be drawn in by the depth of his eyes, the silent communication passing between us palpable in the charged atmosphere of the infirmary.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a seemingly innocent gesture that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through me. I can't tear my eyes away from the subtle movement, my breath catching in my throat as Percy smirks, the tension between us thickening with each passing moment.

In that moment, it's as if the world falls away, leaving only Percy and me in our own private bubble of desire and longing. The air crackles with anticipation, every touch and glance laden with unspoken promises and hidden desires.

As Percy's fingers linger against my skin, tracing the line of my jaw with a feather-light touch, I feel a surge of electricity surge through me. It's a sensation unlike anything I've ever experienced, a heady mix of fear and excitement that leaves me breathless and wanting more. But before I can fully process the intensity of the moment, Percy leans closer, his lips hovering just inches from mine. The air between us pulses with raw energy, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as we stand on the precipice of something unknown.

And then, with a soft sigh, Percy closes the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a searing kiss that ignites a fire within me. In that moment, all thoughts and doubts melt away, consumed by the overwhelming sensation of being wanted and desired. It's a kiss filled with passion and longing, igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume us both. In that moment, all thoughts and doubts fade into the background, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of being wanted and desired.

As the kiss deepens, Percy's hands move with purpose, tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer to him. The touch of his fingers against my scalp sends shivers down my spine, the sensation both electrifying and comforting at the same time. With each caress, he draws me further into the depths of his embrace, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

Feeling emboldened by his touch, I let my own hands roam, tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders with trembling fingers. His skin is warm beneath my touch, a stark contrast to the cool air of the infirmary, and I revel in the sensation of being so close to him.

But it's not just the physical closeness that leaves me breathless; it's the intensity of our connection, the unspoken understanding that passes between us with each fleeting touch. In Percy's arms, I feel safe and cherished, as if nothing in the world could ever harm me.

As the kiss deepens, our breath mingles in a heated exchange of desire and longing. Percy's hands trail down my back, pulling me up from my knees and onto his solid lap in one fluid motion. The movement is effortless, as if we were always meant to be this close, this intimate.

For a moment, our lips remain locked in a passionate embrace, unwilling to break the connection that binds us together. But as the need for air becomes too pressing to ignore, we reluctantly part, gasping for breath as our chests heave with the intensity of our shared desire.

Percy's grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my skin as if afraid I'll slip away if he lets me move even a few centimetres away. There's a hunger in his gaze, a primal need that mirrors my own, as he looks up at me with eyes darkened by desire.

In that moment, with Percy's intense gaze fixed on me, I feel a rush of heat spread through my body, igniting every nerve ending in a blaze of sensation. It's a heady mix of desire and vulnerability, as if we're teetering on the edge of something vast and unknown, ready to leap into the abyss together.

As our eyes lock in silent understanding, I realise that this is more than just a fleeting moment of passion—it's a declaration of our shared connection, a bond forged in the crucible of battle and tempered by the fires of friendship.

And as Percy pulls me closer, his lips seeking mine with a newfound urgency, I know that in this moment, we are bound together by something greater than ourselves—a love that defies the odds and transcends the boundaries of time and space.

Riordanverse Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@papichulo120627 @guacam011y @alexxavicry @luuuciiia-mr @chan

#percy jackson #percy Jackson x reader #percy Jackson x you #percy Jackson x y/n #percy Jackson smut #percy Jackson fluff #percy Jackson angst #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson series #camp half blood #pjo fandom #percy Jackson one shots #percy Jackson headcanons #Logan lerman

372 notes · View notes