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eratosmusings · 9 months ago

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Loyalty (I)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: the king decides it's time for his brother to produce more targaryen heirs. who better than another hightower daughter to carry them?

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, dubcon smut in later chapters, arranged marriage, abortion allusion (moon tea), coercion, terrible parenting

word count: 2.3k

dividers

“I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?” Viserys asks with an air of frigid humor. “Who are you to deny your king what he has commanded?”

Otto seethes, decades of practiced court manners faltering under the demand. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but she is my daughter. I will not have her married off to a man whose love of violence and debauchery trails him like a shadow. She is a pious child. To marry her to Daemon is—“

“A blessing. She will marry a prince and a valiant knight.”

The other men at the table are silent. They'd expected talks of reinforcing the kingdom's claim on the Stepstones or of quelling rumors that had cropped up of Daemon corrupting his young niece in a brothel a year prior. The king commanding a marriage between Otto Hightower's youngest daughter—his only child from a tragically short second marriage—is an unpleasant surprise.

"He is already married."

Viserys gives a taut smile. "Daemon's marriage to Lady Royce has been annulled. By royal decree and with the blessing of the High Septon. It is in the best interest of Westeros that the Targaryen line remains vast and strong and it has been decided your daughter will do what Lady Royce did not."

Otto's face falls in disbelief. He's heard nothing of it. This had been set up to corner him. "She is a child."

"She is nearly four years older than Alicent was when we wed. The queen has proven your daughters are strong vessels for Targaryen children."

"It is different. She is different. She is not as strong as Alicent."

The king shakes his head. "I will hear no more discussion of this. She will wed Daemon and this feud between the two of you shall end once and for all.”

Alicent’s touch is feather-light as she takes hold of your hands. Her eyes wander across your form, taking in the exquisite ivory gown. Its crimson embroidered dragon along the skirt a special request from your soon-to-be husband. “You look beautiful, sister.”

You can say nothing to your half-sister, barely able to retain the tears brimming in silence. A fortnight was all you’d been given to prepare to wed the vilest creature in Westeros. Daemon Targaryen was all you could have ever hoped against in a husband.

Your father stands tall behind Alicent, head held high. "The image of the Maiden herself."

A choked sob escapes you at his words. This marriage was punishment by the Seven for every sin you'd ever committed. For the impure thoughts you'd had of knights. The white lies you'd spoken to save yourself the wrath of Septa Agerrea. The gambling you'd participated in when you’d bet your favorite embroidery needle in a game of cards with Lysa Tyrell. Had you only followed the Faith more faithfully, this torture would not be yours to endure.

“I believe it is time to take your place with the king, Your Grace,” your father says.

Alicent hesitates with glossy eyes. She draws you into a tight hug and whispers an apology and how much she loves you. You have the faintest memory of her wedding to the king a few years before. The happy sister who’d spent hours braiding your hair when the handmaidens failed to do it properly disappeared into a hardened queen round with child seemingly overnight. The smiles and giggles you’d shared daily turned to fond, distant memories. She withdraws a moment later, wiping at her face.

When the door shuts your father moves behind you. You watch in the ornate mirror as he drapes the green maidencloak of House Hightower across your shoulders. The new burden's weight feels uncomfortable.

He returns to stand before you, his expression sorrowful. "I am sorry, my sweet child, for this atrocity. You deserve far better.”

“I could have saved myself this fate had I been less worldly and become a Septa.” Your palm wipes at the tear that had fallen.

He cups your cheek. “Perhaps. But we cannot lament on what we could have done. Indeed we must focus instead on your duty to the realm.”

“To be a good wife,” you state. It was what he had raised you to be.

“No, sweet child,” he says softly, “I fear that I must ask something far more difficult of you. For your duty to the realm must supplant your duty in marriage.”

The wedding takes place in a haze. You tremble, stumble over words, and can not meet the eyes of your now husband nor the Septon. Soon you would betray them both.

For the good of the realm.

You do not eat or drink through the feast. You barely speak. You think you might have danced, though all you remember of it is a blurring background and an embroidered dragon that matches your own. It had stared at you accusingly.

“Shall I call for the bedding ceremony to begin, brother?” the king slurs loudly. If there had been anything in your stomach, it surely would have come out now. It was one vile thought to have him touch you. But to have other men undress you as well?

Your hand is pulled from your lap, enclosed in another twice its size, callous and rough against your skin. For the first time that day you look at your husband. You’d never seen him this close. The lavender gaze cannot have been of this world. It’s too vibrant, too knowing. “Too many of the men here have wandering hands. I’d hate to spill blood on such a blessed day.” His lips brush against your hand. “My sweet wife should not have to endure such tragedy.”

The king responds dismissively. Something of disappointing guests, but to do as he pleases. Daemon takes it as a dismissal and pulls you from your seat. The last thing you hear is the call from many about bloody sheets.

Perhaps the Mother has decided to take mercy on you. For you cannot breathe as the doors to the prince’s chambers close behind you. Death can take you before he can.

He stands in front of the fire, pouring some drink into a goblet. The flickering orange light suits him. Like he was born for flames. “You must relax. There is nothing for you to fear from me.” A lie. There was much to fear from him.

A booming knock echoes through the room.

“Enter.”

Two servants carrying trays of bread and fruit enter. Then they are gone just as swiftly. The door closes once more.

“You must eat,” he says, taking your hand once more and leading you to a small table. You sit and a piece of bread is offered. You take it and, after an expectant nod, take a bite. It’s still warm and soft. You take another bite. And another.

It’s gone quickly. Too quickly for a lady. A bowl of berries clatters softly in front of you. You pick at it slower, though not as slowly as you’d like. They are sweet. Perfectly ripe.

“Would you like some wine?”

Despite the juice of berries coating your tongue, your mouth is dry as you speak for the first time since you’d said your vows. “Yes, please.”

“So well mannered.” A smug smile spreads across his face as he raises his goblet and sips. He reaches over and sets it down beside the half-empty bowl. “I forgot to have them retrieve another cup.”

The crimson red liquid ripples. A challenge.

“You are very gracious, my Prince. Thank you.” You lift it by the stem and drink. It was stronger than you’ve ever had before. The taste takes you aback, coughing as it soaks your tongue. Hastily you set the cup back down.

"I take it you don't often indulge in Dornish Reds."

"No, never."

His head cocks to the side appraisingly. "I suppose such a thing has never been offered to you before. Not within the confines of your father's authority. He has given you a rather sheltered life."

A prickly heat seeps up your neck. "My father did not confine or shelter me. He has only ever guided me to live as virtuously as the Seven wished for all their children to live.”

“How very kind of him to not let you endure the same vices as himself.”

You blink, his words sinking in. The implication that your father is a drunkard stings. He isn't, but you don’t fight his accusation. Selfishly, you do not wish to defend your father. Instead, you pluck a berry from the bowl, hoping to end the conversation entirely.

"Are the berries quite good?"

You nod, not wanting to speak again.

"Might I have one?" When you go to pick up the bowl, he stops you. "Pick me out the best one."

The best one? The bowl is still half full. Which berry was the best? Would he be disappointed if you picked one he did not like? Or one that was not ripe enough? Not sweet enough? What would he do to you if he disliked the one you chose?

It was the largest blackberry that you finally settle on, prepared to hear how terrible the choice had been as you hold it out to him. He doesn't simply take it. He leans over the table, taking the berry and your fingers into his mouth.

The act is heinously intimate. It leaves you frozen and breathless as he pulls away, his eyes alight in devious amusement. "I'm not sure which taste I prefer. The berry's or your's."

Fire spreads across your cheeks. You flinch away, embarrassed. In the escape effort your arm knocks against the goblet. To your horror, it clatters against the table. The liquid sloshes across your front, staining the white gown.

The crimson seems to seep from your womb, condemning you for something you had yet to do. You paw at the stain as the chair clatters on the ground from the force with which you'd stood.

Tears brim in your eyes as it continues to spread.

“There's no need to fret. It is only wine.”

“I have desecrated it.” The tears have not stopped falling and your hands have not stopped scrubbing at it with your fingers. “The stain will never come out.”

“It is only a dress.” He cups your face, encouraging you to meet his gaze. It searches for some understanding.

He would never understand.

“I am so sorry, my Prince.”

He shushes you softly and places a kiss against your forehead. This was the monster? The vile, unholy beast whose every action was an affront to the Seven? This man who had shown you nothing but kindness?

You cry harder.

He is not the monster.

You are.

You aren’t sure how long you cry. But he holds you through it all. He speaks little more than a few consoling phrases, but it is more than you deserve. His presence, arms around you, kisses on your hair. All of it more than you deserve.

You’re finally calm, only left with sniffles, when he says, “We should get the dress to the washwomen before the stain sets.” What good would it do? The stain can never be removed from your soul. Still you agree and turn for him.

His fingers are swift as they loosen the strings of your bodice. Practiced. He is practiced. Behind closed doors you assume, but there were numerous tales of his public debauchery. It has been gossiped that he prefers the thrill of open affairs and touches of multiple women.

“Why did you refuse the bedding ceremony?”

He pauses. “Did you wish to have one?”

“No,” you say quickly. “But given your…tendencies I…I thought…” A quiet hum has your words trailing off.

His work continues, though slower. “You are not a whore in a brothel.”

“Neither is your niece and yet...”

Air blows across your neck as he chuckles. “Has my pious little wife been gossiping about the chastity of the Crowned Princess?”

Your lungs seize at the realization of what you’d just said. It’s treason. Questioning her virtue is treason.

“Relax, jaesa.” His hands slip between the shoulders of your shift and the loose gown, pushing the sleeves down your arms. “I took you under my protection today. You may speak freely to me.”

“I,” you hesitate, freeing your hands of the garment, “I had heard that a year ago you snuck the princess from the castle and—“

He bunches the fabric at your waist and tugs. “Had my way with her in some brothel?”

“Yes.”

The gown struggles for a moment, snagging on the curve of your behind. Another tug and it is a pile around your feet. “My niece wished to see King’s Landing. I showed her and returned her to the castle, still a fair maiden like yourself.”

“Of course.”

“You doubt me?”

“No, my Prince.”

"It would do a great disservice to our union to begin it with lies." He prompts you to turn and hesitantly you do. He is shorter than your father, yet his presence is as commanding. More so. It makes you aware of how thin the fabrics of your shifts were when his gaze drifts down. "My niece's heart belongs elsewhere. As do my desires."

His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, but the feeling's it stirred are rough and uncertain. Bordering on traitorous.

“Shall I call a servant to fetch the dress?” The words waver. You wonder if they’re comprehensible at all.

They are, it seems as he rejects the offer and slips out the door himself with the dress. The reprieve from his watchful, astute eye is welcome. You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed and recite the prayer your father had taught you minutes before you’d been led down the aisle.

Warrior, give me strength for what I must do. It is for the good of the realm.

Mother, forgive me for what I must do. It is for the good of your faithful servants.

Stranger, lead my children to peace. It is for the good of their innocent souls.

a/n: all your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated 🌺

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#daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen smut #targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #loyalty

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slushycoookie · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 17 ~ Wet Dream

Logan Howlett x AFAB! Reader

Summary: Logan gets some explicit dreams about you, the neighbor next door

A/N: Hope everyone's doing okay! I kinda like the timeline of these posts, I might do it like this for the rest of the month.

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Logan Howlett was a man used to nightmares. Always waking up in a sweat, not being able to sleep for the rest of the night. The dreams varied on him killing someone he loved and all of the trials he faced during his 200 years of life. The Weapon X experiment. When he lost Jean. Everything.

Until recently, he met you, the cute neighbor next door.

You just moved in a month ago across the hall. The first time he met you, you asked for a few eggs for a cake you were making. All in your pjs, baggy shirt, sweatpants, and teddy bear slippers. No clear indication of being attractive at all. Yet, there was something about you.

Logan chopped it up as needing to get out for more fresh air. And he did get it. But that didn't stop his mind from thinking about you. How nice you were, dealing with Wade's shenanigans, promising to keep an eye on Althea and Dogpool when they went on missions.

Every single minute spent on you, how you would feel under his arms, taste against his tongue, smell along his nostrils. He wanted all of you, but he didn’t want to make that step. He was just figuring out how to be an honorable version of himself again. Bringing you into the picture was too soon.

So his dreams helped him out—goodbye nightmares and hello erotic dreams of situations that weren't going to happen.

They always started as if he was in a porno.

You coming over to say, “Can I borrow some more eggs?”

And he’d say, “I have some eggs you can borrow.”

That led to you making out with him in his bedroom, taking in how much you tasted. Logan can't wait to peel off those baggy clothes and feel your bare skin. He doesn't set unrealistic expectations in his mind about your appearance. He knows you're sexy as hell and thought about you in that way ever since.

He always takes you to his bed so he can fuck you properly. Not before deciding to draw attention to your breasts. Those voluptuous mounds of yours that he licks and sucks. Circling his tongue around your nipple as he flicks the other one. Logan’s dream you sounds better than any other song he's heard on the radio. He doesn't want you to remain silent while he divulges into your body.

Logan nips at your skin, kissing your navel before reaching below. He avoids your sex entirely to run his lips along your thighs. He makes a few marks on the inner thigh, grunting at your soft noises.

Sometimes, his dreams go two different ways. He's eating you out, desperate to know what you taste like against his tongue. He's submerged in you, closing his eyes and groaning into that soaked cunt of yours. Your hands dive into his hair, pulling him closer to you if possible. Whining for him to not stop, to keep going.

Logan's fingers push into you as he’s devouring you. Feeling those wet walls stretch out from his large digits. Preparing you for his thick cock to replace them. You whine to tell him you're so close, and he's always a gentleman. He makes you cum while licking your clit. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you cry out for him. You sound so good that cum starts leaking from his tip, desperate to be inside you.

There are other times when Logan gets impatient, and he enters you immediately. Not wanting to waste a second in having your cunt around him. And he fits you so perfectly. Logan holding back everything he can to not cum right then and there.

“You were made for me, princess.” He says with a gruff tone before beginning his thrusts.

A lot of times Logan makes love to you on your back. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he's showing you how much he's wanted to do this to you. Your nails dig into his skin, but he likes that. It spurs him on even more, his thrusts picking up more speed.

If he wants to experiment more, your legs are over your head, not giving you much room to move as his hips snap against yours. Or you're riding him and he's entranced at the way you fuck yourself on his dick. All sloppy and desperate. Aching to make yourself cum for him.

But his dreams always ended the same way. With his seed inside you, leaking from your cunt. You're in complete bliss when you cuddle beside him, caressing the hairs on his chest.

Then he wakes up. Still covered in sweat and his boxers stained with cum. Like a damn teenager.

Logan knows it's embarrassing, but he's not ready to ask you out yet. He's okay with pining over you from afar.

Tags: @fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff

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@smokeywhalee

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x black reader #wolverine x black reader #x reader #x black reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine #cookie's kinktober 2024

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skyenish · 5 months ago

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| Diasomnia Harpy Hare animatic 🐉🦇⚔️ 🐊 | Book 7 spoilers |

——

This was one big project, but I love how it came out! I’m fairly new to coloring and rendering, so this was quite the task for me. I’ve discovered that Diasomnia isn’t as hard to draw as I thought (except you Silver, you were very difficult to draw). Shoutout to @soleilthedeity (currently banned) for helping me come up with ideas! I hope you guys enjoy the animatic :)

——

Malleus is an interesting character, because let’s be honest, he has the emotional maturity of a teaspoon, and I say that affectionately. He’s got a superiority complex, but can you blame him? He’s the crown prince of Briar Valley, naturally he’d at least subconsciously believe that he’s better than others! He pushes people away, not on purpose of course, which leaves him feeling very lonely. People are scared of him, but I feel like Malleus doesn’t completely understand why, what he’s doing wrong. Lilia was never scared of him though, and when he met Yuu, who wasn’t scared of him, he found them amusing, and that amusement slowly grew into affection. He grew attached to them. When he got the news that both Lilia and Yuu were leaving him soon, he felt like that new happiness Yuu gave him and the comfort of Lilia was all going to be ripped away. He doesn’t want to face the idea of things ending, of being alone. But nothing lasts forever.

Worse even is that as prince of Briar Valley, he’s incredibly powerful. His powers are supposed to keep his subjects happy, and he’s used to being able to do pretty much anything with his powers. But he can’t save Lilia, he can’t make him younger, make him healthy, make him stay. In a sense, his overblot kills three birds with one stone! Lilia doesn’t die, Yuu doesn’t leave, and he won’t ever be alone. Plus, they’ll all be “happy”! Except Malleus’ understanding of happiness is shallow, he doesn’t quite grasp it properly. Of course, like all the others, what they did was wrong, but like all the others, I empathize with them and understand why they did what they did. I can relate to Malleus, his desperation, his fear, because at the end of the day he’s still just a child who is going to outgrow everyone he loves.

(Since I play English and read the spoilers, my information/analysis might be wrong! If that’s the case, definitely let me know in the comments. This is all also just my interpretation, so if you disagree with my takes I’d love to hear your interpretation and thoughts!)

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cxrrodedcoffin · 5 months ago

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Nightvisions - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: This is part 2 to Dead of Night, Reader and Spencer face the fallout of an intense first sexual encounter, which leads to a second one.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i’m overjoyed by the positive response to ‘dead of night’ and i’m a woman of the people so despite my lack of plan to do a part 2, i wrote one anyway, and this is it! tbh i’m not too sure how i feel about this but i had fun writing it anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: pervert!spencer, dom!spencer, angst, established relationships, confession of feelings, semi-public sex, noise control, hair pulling, spit, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), penetration, creampie, panty stealing, references to knifeplay, slight biting, hickey (kinda?) pet names (angel), fem + afab reader, happy ending

Rating: R, 18+

——

As the work day dragged on you could feel your initial shock and intrigue twist into an anger that burned in the pit of your stomach. Every glance Spencer took at you from his desk across the bullpen made your blood pressure spike, unable to properly focus on the paperwork you had been working through for the better half of the day. Your mind kept drifting, trying to rationalize his potential motives, but the more the thought stirred in your mind the less you could justify it to yourself. You had to hear it directly from him, as soon as possible.

“Spencer, can I get your input on something?” You called him over to your desk, masking the frustration in your voice. He scrambled to his feet, eager to be close to you again for the first time since this morning. He leaned over your desk, glancing at the paperwork in front of you.

“How can I help?”

You pointed to an insignificant line of text as you leaned forward, bringing your mouth inches from his ear.

“Meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes.” You whispered, watching as he gulped and nodded.

“That should be good.” He said as a cover, hoping not to draw suspicion to the two of you before returning to his desk.

You grabbed a file for show and walked to the conference room, checking that the blinds were pulled down over the windows overlooking the bullpen. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, starting to pace to keep yourself occupied as you waited for him.

Moments later there came a gentle knock at the door before Spencer slowly opened it, dipping quickly in and locking the door behind him. A short silence hung in the air until your emotions got the better of you, his soft expression causing tears to well up in your eyes.

“How? Why?” You blurted out, a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and desperation playing out in your features. He took a step toward you and you took a step back, keeping distance between you. If he touched you, you might break, shatter into a million pieces and never be put back together.

“Please just let me explain.” His tone held such strong desperation that you almost forgot how betrayed you felt. You wiped a tear from your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall, waiting.

“You left your profile up on your computer one night and I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, I always have.” He took a deep breath, for once careful to articulate his words as he watched your expression carefully, searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“I know it was wrong, but I never thought I’d stand a chance with a woman like you if I went about it the traditional way. I never intended on hurting you, but I clearly have, and doing so is the biggest regret of my life.” You wanted to believe him, he seemed so earnest, but the doubt was eating you alive by the second. What if it was all an act? Was the connection you felt that night built on lies?

“Was everything you said in our chats a lie just to sleep with me?” You kept a straight face, fighting back more tears to keep your composure. You couldn’t let him know how badly you were hurt, not if he didn’t mean it.

“Oh god no, angel, everything I said was the truth.” He grew more frantic, nervously stretching his fingers as he fought the urge to step toward you again. He just wanted to hold you, to comfort you in the simplest way he knew how, but he couldn’t do anything that might make you more uncomfortable.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, still too frustrated with him at the moment to deal with your feelings for him. He nodded, keeping his mouth shut to resist the urge to ramble on and on about what he felt for you.

“I’m not sure I believe you Spencer, I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” Your voice cracked, biting the inside of your lip as you watched his face drop.

“You can.” He weighed the risk and took a step closer to you again, and you didn’t move away from him this time.

“How do I know that?”

“I’m in love with you.”

It was the most confident he’d been all day, his voice unwavering with every word.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” Tears threatened your waterline once more, hanging on his every movement as you tried to read him.

“I do mean it, I’ve known from the first time we spent 2 hours talking nonstop on the jet. No one has ever seen me the way that you do.” His eyes were glassy with tears and your heart began to melt, dropping your arms to your sides and finally closing the gap between you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You took his hand in yours, your thumb swiping over the veins on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same.” He sighed, averting his gaze from yours.

“I do.” You confirmed, squeezing his hand. He looked at you once more, the tension between you practically suffocating.

He leaned into you, his face dangerously close to yours as he searched your eyes for any lingering apprehension, but there was none to be found. He took a leap of faith, hoping he was reading you right as his lips met yours, his hand cupping the side of your face. You melted into the kiss, allowing him to guide your mouth against his. Your skin grew hot, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as his actions grew more intense, his lips pushing almost bruisingly hard against yours.

His hands moved lower, ghosting down your sides, the slight pressure against your healing cuts from the night before making you shiver. He finally reached the hem of your skirt, slowly hiking the fabric up your thighs. You pulled your mouth away from his, panting for a moment in hopes of catching your breath once more.

“Spencer, we can’t.” You sighed, meeting his hungry gaze.

“We can if we’re careful.” He countered, pushing you gently back until your hips bumped against the large circular table in the center of the room.

“What if someone hears? If we get caught we could lose our jobs.” The rational part of your brain seemed to be dueling with your primal urges, your body betraying your mind as the thought of getting caught only made the wetness between your thighs grow more intense.

“Then you better be quiet.” He whispered, his large hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, bending you over the edge of the conference table. He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up the rest of the way to bunch around your hips, humming to himself as he admired your perfect ass. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them over the curve of your hips and down your legs before pocketing the lacy fabric.

You whined, wiggling your hips back to urge him on.

“Be patient.” He laughed, his voice low. You didn’t have to wait long, his head dipping between your thighs to find your waiting pussy. His strong grip kept your thighs spread as his tongue delved between your folds, quickly giving ample attention to your swollen clit. He was hungry, plush lips drinking in your arousal with every extended lap of his tongue, practically suffocating himself as his nose brushed against your weeping entrance.

You brought your hand to your mouth, biting your wrist to stifle your whimpers as you rocked back against him, indulging in the way he devoured you. He moaned against you, muffled vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, your clit growing more and more sensitive by the second. You were starting to get desperate, riding his face until the table underneath you began to squeak with every rock of your hips. Spencer suddenly pulled away, sitting back on his calves.

“Your desperation is going to get us caught.” He brought his hand between your legs, fingers massaging your clit for a split second before rearing back and slapping against it, causing you to jolt forward. You yelped, a bit louder than you intended from the shock of it, and you swallowed nervously, anticipating his next move.

He rose to his feet, his clothed hips pushing against your bare ass as he gripped your hair in his fist, firmly pulling you upright. You bit your lip to hide your moan, letting him guide your every step as he pulled you across the room, finally pressing your back against the wall.

“Spencer, please.” You sounded more pathetic than you intended but the way his mouth felt on you got you beyond worked up, and in that moment you felt like you needed him inside you more than you needed air.

“Are you going to be quiet?” He questioned, his hand resting on his belt buckle as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, I’ll be good, I promise.” You looked up at him, giving your best doe-eyed look as you began unbuttoning your blouse. He began to undo his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles as he held out his hand in front of you.

“Spit.” He commanded, the dominant side of him coming out more with every sweet sound that left your lips. You did as you were told, spitting in his hand to provide a bit of lubricant for him to stroke his cock, fully preparing himself to enter you.

You were mesmerized, unable to look away from the way his shirt rode up his torso, toned but slender stomach flexing with each movement of his hand, his hair falling messily in his flushed face, a thin layer of sweat forming on his skin. You pulled the cups of your bra down, toying with your nipples as you enjoyed the show, feeling like you were watching the most intimate sex tape you’d ever seen.

“Are you ready?” His voice snapped you out of your trance, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment over how desperate you were for him. You nodded frantically, draping your arms behind his neck, pulling him to you. You raised your leg, wrapping it around his waist, looking down between your chests to watch him lineup his cock with your cunt. He pushed the head in, cutting off the gasp that threatened to rip from your throat as he pulled you into another intense kiss.

He sank fully into your tight walls, the soreness you felt from the night before melting away with every stroke he laid into you. You moaned into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to take the reins, his controlling grip digging soft bruises into the flesh of your breasts, then your hip, electricity flowing between the two of you. You pulled away from the kiss, coming up for air, so lost in the feeling that you couldn’t make out any coherent sounds, only gentle whimpers and whines.

“You feel so good.” He moaned quietly, quickening his pace, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, the rough pad of his thumb pressing firm swipes up and down over the swollen bundle of nerves. Your whimpers grew louder, and despite your hazy state, you knew you had to quiet yourself quickly. You pulled him closer, burying your face in the side of his neck, your lips latching onto the soft skin behind his ear.

A groan rose from the back of his throat, your mouth sucking against his pressure point pulling him dangerously close to his release. You swore you were seeing stars, supernovas erupting between your thighs as you started to contract around him, your senses overwhelmed with his touch, crying out against his neck. Your knee began to buckle, your leg almost giving out if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. He continued to pump in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm until you had gained a bit more of your composure, able to support yourself again despite how fucked out you felt.

Spencer felt himself falter and anchored his hips against yours, keeping himself seated within your warm walls as they coaxed him to completion. He quietly moaned your name, his head hung to observe the view of himself pulling out of you. You dropped your leg, still in a daze as you began righting your clothing. After you redid the last button of your top and yanked your skirt back down over your ass, you realized you couldn’t find your underwear.

“Looking for something?” He questioned, that familiar dorky smile plastered across his face. You turned to face him, seeing the lace dangling from his fingertip, but as you grabbed for it he pulled it out of reach.

“These are mine now.” He shoved the fabric back in his back pocket before you could attempt to steal them back again.

“Spencer, your cum is dripping down my leg, I kind of need those.” You took a stride toward him to close the gap between you, hoping to wrap your arm around his waist and take them out of his pocket. Your plan was quickly foiled as he grabbed your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“You better keep your legs closed then, I’m not giving them back.” He whispered in your ear, his tone low but hinted with mischief.

“Whatever, pervert.” You pulled out of his grip, starting to walk toward the door. Your slight annoyance with his teasing quickly faded, unable to deny that walking back out into the bullpen full of Spencer’s cum was an incredibly hot concept.

“What does that make you, then?” He laughed, running his hand through his hair to make it somewhat presentable.

“An angel, according to you.” You turned back to him momentarily to wink in his direction, giving him a comfortable resolution to your slight outburst earlier.

“Can I see you again? Outside of work, I-I mean.” He slightly stumbled over his words, his dominant demeanor fading back into his signature awkward cadence, clearly a bit flustered by your tongue-in-cheek show of affection. You almost laughed, the question feeling a bit absurd given that you’d both just confessed your feelings for one another in more ways than one.

“Take me out to dinner tonight, I’ll be ready by 6. You have my address.” You smiled, watching a blush rise over his cheeks in response to your callback before unlocking the conference room door and returning to your desk to finish out the workday, eagerly awaiting your first real date with Spencer.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea @theoraekenslover @placidus

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my spencer reid taglist :)

also tagging those who requested a part 2, thank you for the inspo!: @silver138 @espressoparis @futuremrsreid @charmedkim @lilcuutiee @cryxbabyxxx @c1rcus-baby

#dividers by cxrrodedcoffin #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer x reader #dom!spencer #pervert!spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #knifeplay #my writing #mine

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 month ago

Text

[12:22 pm]

Husband!Taeyong’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, deciding this would be a good time for a break from boxing up everything you both decided you were going to donate. His brows furrows seeing your name on his screen. Weren’t you in the house with him? Why wouldn’t you just come tell him instead of texting him? ‘You’re not going to believe what I just found!’ He read with a smile.

He heard your hurried steps on the hardwood floor of the hall and soon enough you were standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a bright smile and a colorful book in your hands. As you walked closer, Taeyong reached for you grabbing your hips to guide you to stand between his spread thighs. “What did you find, honey?” Taeyong asks, pressing a kiss to your arm.

“My diary! It’s got some entries from our first 2 years together!” You beam.

“Oooh, juicy stuff?” Taeyong asks with a quirked brow.

You clear your throat and crack the journal open, “this is from 5 years ago, ready?” Taeyong nods, but his mind is reeling, you guys didn’t know each other five years ago, what could you have written about him? Your voice interrupts his train of thought, “Today, I went to the cafe with Minho. While Minho and I were waiting for our drinks, the most handsome guy I’ve ever laid eyes on came up and started talking to Minho. I guess they took a class together a while ago. This guy didn’t look at me the whole time, but I think I’m in love. Who would ever believe that I saw a man this handsome in real life and not a magazine? Even though he didn’t look at me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to think about him for the rest of my life. Minho said his name is Taeyong. I’m writing this so I have some happy memory of a handsome guy to return to when I’m sad.”

You look down at your husband, “I guess I was a little dramatic, huh?”

“I don’t even remember that! What else do you have?” Taeyong asks eagerly. He wishes he could go back in time to introduce himself properly, he could have had a whole extra year with you. Ugh!

“This is from four years ago, from that dinner that Minho held. I wrote, oh my literal god! You are never going to believe this! The handsome guy from the cafe was at Minho’s party and he spoke to me! There’s like a whole row of exclamation points here,” both you and Taeyong snort out a laugh before continuing, “his voice was so gentle and his hand was sooooo soft when we shook hands. We made conversation about school and our interests. He told me he likes to make music and make art and I told him I’d love to see his work, talk about thirsty. He had a really cute smile on his face and I swear I saw him blush! He told me he’d like to show me and before the night ended we exchanged numbers. I think there’s a higher possibility of us falling in love now. I hope he’s not actually a creep.”

Taeyong pulls you into his lap as he laughs loudly, “I remember that meeting, thank goodness. I remember that you were really cute and shy. And that Minho can’t cook to save his life. I was really excited to text you after that, but I wanted to be chill.”

“I think I ended up writing that after a week of nothing from you I gave up hope a little. I thought maybe you were like a figment of my imagination or maybe I read into it too much,” you sigh as if you’re reliving the memories while turning through the now warped pages.

For a while, the two of you sit there in comfortable silence reading through your entries. He reads and laughs good-naturedly ay the entry that describes the anxiety before your first date in detail and in drawing. Half the page is a messy scribble of words he can barely read, and the other half is scribbles that he can very well imagine you screaming while you drew. There’s a whole page of scribbles and ‘ahhhhhh’ filling up the whole page after the first date/first kiss which makes him smile softly while pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

He finds himself holding you closer, his arms around your waist tightening as his eyes pore over the words of a three-page long entry that came after your first big fight. You’d tried to skip past this, but he pulled the book out of your hold. ‘Tonight, Taeyong and I got in our first fight and I don’t think my heart has ever hurt this badly. I just don’t understand why he left! All I told him was that I needed some space to think and he took that as me wanting him gone. He just turned on his heel and left! I just wanted like 5 minutes to gather myself! Why would he just leave?’ Taeyong’s thumb sadly runs over the obvious mark of a tear drop.

He remembered this fight, he could remember the reason, but he remembers the aftermath. He remembers all the work that came after so that you two could communicate effectively. He remembers promising to never walk away in the middle of the fight and to never go three days thought talking to you again.

He closes the journal as sets it beside him while pulling you into an embrace, “we’ve made it far haven’t we?”

“Yeah, now I don’t freak out like scared chicken before our dates,” you laugh into his chest.

Taeyong laughs deeply, “I meant our communication, but sure.”

“Taeyong, we’ve been together for like four years, of course we’ve learned to communicate. We’ve learned a lot of things about each other. Each and every thing I learn just makes me love you more.”

He furrows his brows, “you didn’t like it when I bleached my eyebrows.”

“Oh my god, yeah! That wasn’t a good look. I hated that!” You exclaim, standing from his lap to assess the work he’s gotten done. “You’ve done a good job so far,” you nod.

“We’ve done a good job so far,” Taeyong stresses.

“That was cute, but I meant the clothes, honey.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct timestamps #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagines #taeyong fluff #taeyong timestamps #taeyong blurbs #Taeyong Drabble

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sutorus · 1 year ago

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OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist.

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response.

he had told you to dress up today.

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs.

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time.

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him.

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough.

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him?

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now.

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely.

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most.

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands.

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong.

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that.

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people.

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four.

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it.

the heat inside you spreads further.

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there.

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds.

your shut your eyes tightly.

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are.

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses.

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win.

a one in eight change.

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day.

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort.

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger.

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you.

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least.

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over.

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy.

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are.

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know.

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt.

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all.

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere.

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy.

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit.

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers.

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock.

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race.

but his fingers don’t leave you.

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles.

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you.

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of.

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse.

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him.

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more.

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well.

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder.

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another.

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place.

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you.

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you.

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease.

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair.

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch.

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place.

how fitting.

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.”

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense.

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face.

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it.

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all.

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger.

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement.

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout.

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks.

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

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ardensregias · 8 months ago

Text

the best relief.

nsfw (*´꒳`*) afab!reader. model!yingxing x bodyguard!reader. dumbification. fingering. you call him "sir"—reader is very polite lol. reader wears makeup. edging. mirror sex. overstimulation. breeding. petnames used: darling, sweetheart. praises!!! :D forced eye contact 😵‍💫 he's a bit of a meanie but he's very in love w you hehe :33

it doesn't look good to me... hope yall like it though (_ _).｡o○ please have this to make up for the boothill smut i couldn't make a part two of 😔

the soft clinking of yingxing's extravagant accessories cuts through the silence of the night, accompanied by the sound of your angelic voice moaning his name as if he was your god as he plunged another rough finger into your drooling hole—practically begging him for more, hungrily swallowing his digits that he thinks they'll snap if you were to clamp down any harder.

"so needy f'me, aren't you?" a throaty growl escapes his chest, tinged with desire as the model leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, muffling your voice as he frenziedly pushes you up against the sink, positioning your legs in between his to keep you from squirming away.

yingxing swears he was never the type to do something like this to relieve his stress, as he knows the potential risks of it turning into a cosmos-wide scandals that will end up ruining everything he's worked hard to achieve—on the other hand, he simply doesn't have the ability to reject you when you were the one who voluntarily offered yourself to him, whispering in his ear about how you'd help him out in any way he wanted—so here you are; your clothes in disarray and a clear thread of saliva trickling down your chin, a testament of the supermodel's ability to make an absolute mess out of you, his precious soon-to-be girlfriend bodyguard.

you've always been a great bodyguard for him—a kindhearted and caring individual who takes good care of him while also being a bold and tenacious guardian whenever the pesky paparazzis are getting out of hand with their disturbances; which makes it even more enjoyable to break you into putty in his hands—and just to remind you, he hasn't even gotten to the fun part yet.

your hand flew over your mouth, trying so hard to muffle the sinful noises that escaped your pretty lips; fearing that yingxing's manager or that mysterious vidyadhara friend of his would barge into his house and caught you in the act. seeing this, his frown deepens, his hand swatting yours as he sinks his fingers deeper into your drenched hole, creating a series of loud sloshing noise that only serves to mortify you further at how dirty they sound.

"don't, i want to hear how good i made you feel," he whispered right beside your neck, tickling the sensitive skin on purpose.

you shake your head, unable to answer him properly without stuttering and making every words sound like a moan, "sir, what if—ah!" and with a simply curl of his fingers in the right direction, your complaints are silenced and replaced with high pitched cries—oh boy, at this rate, his tailored pants might just burst open with the way his bulge keeps growing bigger when he himself thought it couldn't anymore, all thanks to your beautiful voice.

"focus on me, don't think of anyone else," from the growl he struggled to suppress and the way he use his other hand to pinch your bud, you can tell that he's not very fond of the mentions of others during times like these—and you can't help your walls from twitching again at his demanding words, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach, tightening further at his precise movements. more incoherent words left your throat, and he smirks in acknowledgment of your nearing climax, drawing his fingers out just right before you can experience that oh-so-blissful feeling of relief.

a soft, frustrated whine left your throat as you clench around nothing, your lips curling downwards in disappointment as you look at him, "sir, why did you stop...?"

he doesn't respond, his attention completely directed at the crystal-clear substance coating his glove—a clear evidence of the euphoric experience he puts you through. aren't you just so adorable? getting so excited just by his fingers alone?

"eager, aren't we?" he sneers, pressing your bottom lip to make way for his soiled fingers, giving you a taste of yourself and oh aeons, why do you have to be so cute? eyes wide with tears and drool dripping down your chin as you lap the remaining of your own juices off the fabric, making his cock twitch yet again.

he's not gonna hold back anymore, he thinks—no, he simply cannot—hastily unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers, he sighs in relief when his erection is finally freed, the blunt head already leaking precum—a shiver ran down your spine, words catching in your throat at the length and girth; will it even fit?

yingxing smiles at the terrified look on your face, inching closer to playfully slap your folds with his tip, earning another whimper from you, "aww, are you scared, sweetheart?"

"no... i-it's fine, i can take it, sir," you slowly shake your head, still trying to look brave—the slight waver in your voice did not go past his ears though; it boosted his ego, actually.

the man snickered, gaze locking with yours, slowly guiding himself into the warm embrace of your walls, "we'll see about that,"

he sighs in pleasure as he watches your cunt eagerly swallows and clench around his length, as if trying to pull him in—so he reciprocates; jerking his hips to meet your pelvis in a slow and steady motion—your comfort and pleasure comes first, even if he is the one who needs this. still, you cannot help but roll your eyes whenever he reach deep enough to press against your sensitive spots, like he's done this millions of times before.

when he heard your moans getting louder, the man starts to pick up his pace, moving rougher and more demanding as his arms reach for your waist, pulling you down and bending you over so you can face the mirror; watching him pour out all his stress into your abused cunt and the way your body is arching against the sink—a sight so lewd that you want to look away from it, but no, he won't allow it; he wants you to see just how good he's making you feel—and he savors every moment of it, carving the memories of this obscene scene into his brain.

"sir—!" a tiny mewl left your lips when he pulls back, leaving only his tip inside, before slamming his hips back into yours, leaving not a single nook or cranny untouched—the intensity is enough to knock every single thought out of your pretty head. it feels too good, and before you could control yourself, your body lurched forward as you come undone on his cock, delicate fingers curling tightly onto the faucet as your poor body convulses in pleasure.

to stimulate you further, yingxing reach down to rub circles and patterns on your fluttering petals, "good girl—fuck, loosen up, will you? i won't be able to reward you if you don't let go of my cock," his voice is saccharine sweet, like a honeyed poison—so sweet yet so full of mirth, and you can't help but crave it more.

your gummy walls throb around him, trying so hard to not draw him in as he slowly drags his length across your overstimulated walls; yet you can't help yourself to not marvel at the sight of his silver hair cascading over your lower back, his eyes fluttering at how good it feels to nestle inside you—all reflected on the glass mirror for you to see.

but you were not able to gawk at him for long, for the haughty model always sought to catch you off guard—his hands squeezing the fat of your hips to ram his cock back inside, thrusting and rolling himself faster and harder than before, so much that you can hear the thwop thwop thwop sound, along with your soft wails harmonizing with his low grunts bouncing off the ceramic walls; you can only hope that his neighbors would not be suspicious of this totally-professional-relationship of yours.

as for the model himself, he couldn't care less, the only thing occupying his mind is that he has to lay his claim on you; to leave so many traces of his love on you that they will never fade no matter how many lives you have to go through—so he may always find you in every lifetime.

"keep your eyes on the mirror, darling," he clenches his jaw, guiding your chin up to face the fogged surface of the glass—yet it still cannot obstruct the sight of your lovely face; adorned with dark tears as a result of your smudged mascara, cheeks all warm and flushed, and trails of spit running down your chin. gosh, you really are the most gorgeous angel in this wretched world when you're fucked dumb on his dick.

"sir, i can't—"

"yes you can, and call me yingxing, please?" he coos, warm tongue prodding at your earlobe to coax you into obedience—not like he has to anyway.

"y-yingxing—ngh—yingxing yingxing! please, i'm—ah!" because his name immediately leaves your agape mouth like a mantra, along with unidentified words that got lost in between mewls and screams of pleasure; and that's all it takes for the course of pleasure to run down his body, eyes tightly shut as he releases rope after rope into your womb, pressing himself directly on that one delicate, spongy spot inside your pulsating warmth—which then leads to your second orgasm, the waves of pleasure coursing down your spine as your body tenses up, sticky fluid gushing out and spilling down the floor with a squelch.

he stills himself, panting heavily as his broad chest press down on your back; you can feel just how heated up he has gotten, how his coat is all drenched with sweat, how his voice cracks slightly as he mutters praises under his breath, "you're taking me so well... can you feel how deep i am right now?" his hand trails up your abdomen to press on a particularly warm and slightly protruding spot in your tummy; he really did not hold back in marking you, huh?

finally, after you both have calmed down, yingxing begins to pepper kisses on your hair and cheek, slowly grinding all the cum back inside you; he despises seeing it leave you, "are you okay?"

"yes, sir..."

he frowns, thumb caressing your chin in a slow motion, "i told you to call me yingxing," your vision is blurry due to the tears bubbling up your eyes, but you swear you could hear him pout at that.

before you could answer, he flipped you over, a pair of muscular arms supporting your trembling body as he positioned you to sit back on the sink, "i guess i need to fuck you some more, don't i? that way, your pretty little brain will never forget my name again," his smile turns into a full-blown grin, eyes sharp with mischief.

seems like this stress-relieving session is going to take longer than you anticipated.

#hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #yingxing x reader #yingxing x you #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade smut

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anyarose011 · 3 months ago

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"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

“It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

“I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #game of thrones #aemond x reader

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umemiyan · 1 year ago

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can i request pussydrunk virgin!yuji 🫣 ik that your first time w him is so soft

𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙄𝙕𝙀𝘿.

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗝𝗜 𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / established relationship / virgin!yuuji / no pronouns for reader / unprotected piv sex / creampie, a smidge of yuuji with a praise kink / 1.3k words

absolutely!!! tysm for sending this in. i've been slowly chipping away at it over the last few days lol, and i hope i managed to do yuuji a little bit of justice in my first piece for him! gotta start somewhere, am i right?

It starts with a relatively chaste kiss on the couch in the middle of a movie (Human Earthworm 2, to be exact), but it isn’t long before a small peck snowballs into hungry, open-mouthed kisses that leave the two of you gasping for air in between. Yuuji’s cheeks match the color of his hair and he’s already straining in his pants, dripping with youthful desperation. He’s thought about this moment an alarming number of times while lying alone in bed at night, anticipating the day it might truly happen. He would dream up an explicit scenario and stroke himself to sleep, desire overriding the shame of imagining your heat taking every last inch of him for the first time, and now, it seems like it may finally be a possibility.

Yuuji usually does his best to be a gentleman, but the lustful way your tongue occupies his mouth has him moaning and gripping at your thigh for dear life, tightly pressing against you and wishing he could practically crawl into your skin just to feel you closer. He doesn’t want to be sitting beside you anymore—he wants to be on top of you, underneath you, inside you more than he can properly articulate.

You can’t help but notice the way he feverishly squirms, and you’re beginning to feel quite impatient yourself. “Are you okay with this, Yuuji?” you ask, not wanting to push him in a direction that he isn’t prepared to go in.

He nods eagerly, itching to reattach himself to your lips. “Yeah… yeah, ‘m definitely okay with this,” Yuuji responds hastily, breathlessly.

You pet at his pastel locks and look him in the eye, your voice soft yet serious. “Do you wanna go into my bedroom?”

His golden eyes widen as he gulps, but then he’s silently nodding and letting you lead him to the bed.

Your lips are on his as soon as he sits on the mattress, and you do him the favor of removing your shirt so that he can ogle your breasts as though they’re the most interesting things he’s ever seen (because they are). You don’t have to ask twice for him to peel his own shirt off because he’s practically jumping for joy at the opportunity to do so, longing to feel your chest press against his with nothing in between.

You admire the toned structure of his body, fingertips dipping along his abs while a strong hand of his own comes up to palm at your breast. He marvels at the feeling, a boyish glee pulsing through his veins as he fondles you uninhibited. It’s so sincere that you simply can’t take issue with it; in fact, it only serves to arouse you that much more.

“You feel amazing,” Yuuji says as his hands continue to roam your body, soaking in the texture of your skin through his fingertips. He even dares to tweak a nipple, oh so eager to draw every possible reaction from your body despite his lack of experience.

You chuckle at the awe in his voice and body language. “I know what would feel even more amazing.”

It isn’t long before you have him stripped bare with his pretty head on the pillow, gazing up at you as you promptly straddle his waist. You’re like an ethereal being to him, and his hands instinctively move to rest upon your hips, ever eager to latch onto the mesmerizing warmth of your bare skin. What’s even more mesmerizing is the warmth of your cunt as it shifts closer to his throbbing length, hovering over it with the promise of complete and utter euphoria.

You lean forward to kiss him once more before asking, “Are you ready?”

Yuuji nods and grips your hips a little tighter, his heart racing in his chest as you breathe against him. “Yeah.”

Reaching a hand down between your bodies, you gently take hold of his cock and slide the tip of it between your folds, earning a shiver from him as it’s coated with slick and settling just at your entrance. His eyes never leave yours throughout, but they’re already starting to go glassy from the sensation of your dripping arousal against him.

Without further ado, you finally let him breach you, sinking down onto his girth little by little until you’re finally seated and being stretched completely from the inside. Yuuji lets out a moan at the feeling of you surrounding him so tightly, the pleasure unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He needs more.

“Fuuuuck,” he curses breathlessly, already in a borderline hypnotized state.

You rise up and start to bounce your hips after a moment of adjustment, breath hitching as he fills you over and over and looks at you with a gratefulness that sears itself into your memory. You place a hand on his chest and feel his thudding heart within while his cock prods deeper into you than you thought possible.

“Fuck, Yuuji,” you say with a furrowed brow, sweat already working its way to the surface of your skin as you increase the pace of your hips. Meanwhile, Yuuji already looks properly fucked out, eyelids heavy and jaw slacked with bliss. If you focus on anything other than the feeling of him stretching you out, you’d notice that his fingers are practically bruising the skin on your hips.

His eyes move down from your face to watch your tits bounce with every motion, and this stokes the fire in his belly to burn hotter than he could ever imagine. Almost mindlessly, Yuuji’s hips suddenly begin to work up against yours in a desperate rhythm, chasing after something that he can hardly even comprehend at this point. His mind feels hazy—empty, even, save for the all-consuming desire to be as deep in you as possible, filling you completely and tasting everything that you have to offer.

The volume of both your moans rises each time your bodies meet, and he feels so incredible with every stroke that you’re compelled to let him know. “Feels s’good, Yuuji. You’re so good.”

He gives a loud groan at that, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as your praise takes hold of him. Your efforts are hardly required anymore, hips no longer needing to drop down onto his as he takes the notion to slam up into you instead, drunk determination in his beautiful eyes and a trickle of drool shamelessly sliding from the corner of his mouth.

“Gonna cum,” he warns, no longer able to hold himself back but completely incapable of stopping either.

“Go ahead,” you tell him without a second thought, “cum for me.”

“I-inside?” he asks in his final moments of self-control.

You circle a finger around your clit and clench around him with a hasty nod. “Mhm. Inside.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Yuuji holds his breath as his cock starts pulsing inside you, then he lets out a series of appreciative moans, head spinning with the intensity of his orgasm. You continue furiously stroking your clit, using your last bit of strength to roll your hips as he fills you up and starts to go limp, until you’re finally overcome with the blinding pleasure of your own high. It wracks you and takes you down to rest on his chest as he heaves for air and your body trembles against him.

Yuuji’s hands move to hold the small of your back, and you peer up at his dopey face with an interesting look of your own.

“I think that was the greatest moment of my entire life,” he manages to say, and you break out into a small fit of laughter.

“Well, I’m glad enjoyed yourself.” You bring a hand up to wipe away the drool and sweat from his face.

“Did you?” He asks, genuinely curious with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Oh yeah,” you reply, grinning with a flavor of mischief. “Absolutely.”

#yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori smut #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #my writing.#re: yuuji itadori

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l0vergirlsw0rld · 4 months ago

Text

adam designated driver

intoxicated!readerxcaretaker!adam

a/n: adam driver is maybe like the love of my life I hope he reads well. this is also an older fic but maybe 2020-ish?

wc: 2.3k

18+ MDNI | no smut but sexual themes

summary: Y/N went out and had a few too many, when trying to call a taxi driver, she taps her friend adam's contact instead.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?!"You managed to shout over the pulsating bass.

The bartender nodded, turning around to grab the bottles he needed.

He was in his mid-twenties, sporting a thick beard and jewelry: trendy black stretchers, multiple rings on his fingers, and bead bracelets that swung from his wrists as he shook the shaker vigorously.

You observed his rings up close as slid your fifth drink of the night in front of you. You shouted a 'thank you' and passed him the money. The chilled glass froze your palm as you grabbed it. You winced hissed.

You were already intoxicated, which resulted in you feeling warmer than usual. You began to drink your cocktail, wincing from the prominent bourbon taste hitting your tongue.

Turning to the dance floor on your bar stool, you observed your friends dancing provocatively in front of the men.

They would grind on each other and kiss for the sake of attention as if their clothing alone wouldn't draw attention, and it would work every time. Men who were complete strangers would buy you and your friends multiple rounds throughout the night hoping to get lucky.

Tonight, you all wore matching tight-fitted black mini skirts and tops that barely covered your chest. Your outfit in question was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was like wearing a costume. When you'd dress like that, it was as if you were a new person, for one night. You immediately gained a newfound confidence and your adventurous side would come out to play.

You grinned against your glass, chuckling to yourself.

How you loved being a woman.

You scootch off the seat, stumbling, trying to find your footing. Your sense of balance was terrible when you were drunk and your heels did not help with that at the moment.

Eventually, you made your way to your friends on the dance floor, joining the small circle to include yourself again.

"Y/N! There you are, I missed you!" Your little blonde friend threw herself on you. You caught her in your arms, laughing.

The six of you danced to the beat. Hips swaying, arms in the air, hair flying everywhere. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins, and sweat forming on your forehead, but you didn't care you were having so much fun.

our arms were raised in a state of intoxicated freedom as you tried to keep up with your friends, whose energy seemed endless.

Your fingertips tingled as you waved your hands to the rhythm, and your feet grew numb from the constant stomping.

Your head felt heavy on your neck, and your eyelids became harder to keep open. You were running out of breath.

Your movements turned sloppy as your body began to fatigue, even though your mind insisted you had more energy than you actually did. Your chest heaved, struggling to breathe in the tight top.

A couple hours went by and the club slowly began to empty out as people left in small crowds. The night was approaching its end.

You were seated in a booth with fewer friends, all of you trying to call your drives home.

Your vision was blurry as you fiddled with your phone, trying to hold it properly.

The aggressive blue light blinded you. You squinted, opening your contacts app.

A few scrolls down and you found your usual Taxi Driver's phone number.

You pressed it, bringing your phone close to your ear. The ringing echoed loudly in your ears as you drunkenly awaited a response. He finally answered.

"Ugh-mkay, uh I'm at thuh Sound Night Club.... on Las Palmas, can you cohme get me? I'm fuckhing drunhk." You slurred into the phone mic.

After a few exchanges, you hung up. "Welp ladies, my taxi issa comin soon so I gotta wait outside." You stood, steadying yourself on the table. You draped your jacket over your shoulders, clinging your wallet and phone to your chest. You gave them each a kiss on the cheek and said your goodbyes.

Your heels padded on the tacky red carpet as you slowly made your way to the entrance. Before leaving you wished the bouncer a good night. "It's not my birthday, but thank you." He replied. You just smiled, confused.

You pushed the heavy doors open, only to be greeted with a freezing gust of air. Your exposed legs were now covered in chills. The street lights illuminated your flushed cheeks; how nice. You leaned your back against the club's brick wall and waited for your Taxi.

A shiny black Camaro pulled up to the curb, flashing its lights and honking its horn. You stayed put, wondering whose ride it was. It then honked again.

You just observed silently.

The driver's door opened and a tall dark man rose from the car. "Y/N?" He shouted. You jumped slightly. This wasn't your taxi driver: You wondered who the man was, and how he knew your name.

Fucking trouble, that's who.

The unknown man was shouting your name. You looked around to see if anyone else was outside that you could ask for help; not one.

Fuck it, you thought.

You took a run for it, your cheap heels clicking on the cement sidewalks, and you gripped all of your belongings as if your life depended on it, and at that moment it did.

The streets of Los Angeles were dangerous at this time of night, and you were the desired victim; a drunk, helpless, pretty girl in slutty clothing.

So much for being a woman!

The cold air breezed through your product-filled hair as you ran down an alley, only to be cornered by the car again.

You stopped in your tracks, shocked. Your heart pounded in your ears and your mouth was now dryer than a desert. You couldn't find your voice to yell for help.

The man got out again and started running after you, leaving his door open. The car lights blinded you, you could only see his tall shadow approaching you, quickly.

You once again tried to make a run for it but your heel fell through a manhole cover. You rolled your ankle and fell to your knees, your full weight hitting the solid pavement. You groaned in pain. The man rushed to your sides, as you cried on your hands and knees.

This was the end.

"Y/N! What were you thinking? You could've gotten seriously hurt! You could've gotten hit by a fucking car!!" The familiar voice gritted with rage. You lifted your head trying to identify this strange individual's face, only to reveal the face of your friend, Adam.

"Adam? Why the fuhhck are yohu trying to kidhnap me for?" You slurred, trying to push away from his grip. "Kidnap? What? -Y/N, you called me from the club asking me to pick you up." He raised an angry eyebrow.

You just broke down in tears, feeling lost and confused.

"You're too drunk." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"nO, I called, Denis. My usual taxi." You squinted, pulling out your phone to show him. Adam plucked the phone from your grasp and examined the phone.

"Y/N, it says Driver. Driver, Adam." He sighed impatiently.

"Oh, well, i swearr thaht I actually talked to hi-WOah!" Adam had cut you off by picking you up bridal style from the ground.

"Let me down!" You attempted to squirm but your lack of energy or control didn't allow you to do so.

"No, Y/N. You hurt your ankle. Now stop whining and let me take care of you. It's late- It's 4 in the fucking morning and you're acting like a child." He knelt down to grab your jacket that was at his feet and proceeded to place you on the passenger side of his car.

He then resumed his place at the wheel and sped off to his apartment. His car hummed loudly down the silent streets.

During the drive, you were quiet, your scraped knees were pulled to your chest and you faced your window, observing the lights that flashed by as Adam sped through the neighbourhood.

You began to feel your soberness again because all the adrenaline was gone and the pain was now settling in.

Adam pulled into the parking garage and stopped the car in his usual spot. He turned off his vehicle and picked you up once more, this time with less anger. You toyed with the collar of his shirt as he carried you to his door. He had so many birthmarks on his neck.

Arriving at 11B, he managed to unlock and kick his door open. He used his elbows to switch on the lights and laid you on the grey sofa.

"Do you need anything? Some pants, another shirt? Socks?" He spoke on top of you, trying to keep you awake.

"This outfit is too tight, Adamhm, can I borrow some long socks and one of your T-shirts?" You breathed out, with your eyes closed. Your head felt heavy against the firm couch pillow, it's like you were sinking in quicksand.

"I'll be right back." He said.

You peeked an eye open to observe his apartment decor. It was minimalistic, with tones of light greys, topes and whites. Indie artists covered his walls, and colourful woven rugs were sprawled across the floor. He had lots of books on his shelf in the corner, you propped yourself up and dragged your feet to the library dizzily.

Poetry.

Adam had lots of notorious poets in his collection.

He returned shortly.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want some shorts or sweatpants? They have drawstrings, so you can tighten it as much as you want." He placed the clothing on the oak coffee table that you were now making your way to.

"I'm sure... thank you, Adam." You smiled unzipping your painfully tight top, exposing your red push-up bra. Adam's eyes diverted to the floor, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs in my bedroom. It's the first door on your left." He turned to leave.

"Wait, Adam!" You let the top fall to your feet.

"Yes?" He turned around, making only eye contact, trying to not observe your figure.

"You have poetry books in your library." You said, sliding your skirt off, leaving you in only your matching lace undergarments.

Adam controlled his breathing.

"I do, I do, uh, do you read lots of... poetry?" He asked leaning against his living room door frame.

"I actually used to write some and read them at open mic nights." You smiled, unclipping your bra swiftly, allowing your breasts to bounce out of your bra.

"Much better," You muttered.

"I-I uh, I didn't know that." He bit the inside of his cheek, face remaining unreadable. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and fixed his posture. You could hear his foot tapping the floor, and you could sense uneasiness in him.

Oh?

Casually, you let the bra fall, like your top, and slid on his grey Star Wars t-shirt that he probably had received from a fan.

Adam was not one to watch let alone buy merchandise from his own projects. The Kylo graphic tee looked cute on you, it ended mid-thigh and wasn't too wide.

"I still write sometimes, but not as much as I'd like to, you know? What about you, do you write?" You sat on the low coffee table, knowing well, that Adam was struggling to keep his composure and slid on his long black socks that went up to your knees.

"I do, but I don't think that it's good." He chuckled, trying to seem less awkward. You simply smiled at the statement and found your place on the couch.

"um- you need some water and aspirin, I'll go get that for you." He said and walked out of the room, his heavy footsteps thumped on the creaky wooden floors.

In one hand he had a big glass of iced water, and in the other, he had two tiny pills. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly, washing down the medicine with water. "Need anything else?" He asked glancing at the time: 4:52 AM.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you, Adam. For everything. It's really appreciated. Also, I'm sorry for earlier, I thought you were trying to hurt me, it was dumb." You looked down at the glass that you held in your lap, in embarrassment.

"You are...welcomed." He gave you a small close-mouthed smile before shutting off the lights and going upstairs to his own bed.

You tossed and turned on that shitty sofa. It was small compared to your bed at home and the throw blanket was too thin for your liking, you really wished you would've taken up that offer on the sweatpants.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, now fully sober and exhausted.

You quietly got up and proceeded to make your way upstairs to the first bedroom on the left. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed it even slower to avoid making any noise. You saw that his bedside light was on, and you could make out faint clicking noises. When you fully opened the door, you were happy to be greeted by Adam sitting shirtless in bed, typing on his computer.

"Hi." You quietly spoke.

He lifted his chin and met your eyes with his brown ones. "Hi." He gave you a toothy smile.

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, padding towards his gigantic bed. "No, not really." He chuckled closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table.

You sat on the foot of his bed, observing his thick chest and shoulders. He was a very attractive man, very large, he looked soft. You bit your lip at the thought.

"Come." He lifted the covers from the unoccupied side of the bed and tapped the mattress like when prompting a dog or cat to come sit next to you.

You obeyed and got under the covers next to him, already feeling his warmth.

You hummed in delight as he turned off the lamp. Adam laid on his side, facing you. You did the same, trying to focus your eyes on his face through the new darkness.

He let out a tired sigh and without warning, he pulled your whole body forward. Your head was buried in his chest, his bicep supported your neck, and his other arm rubbed your back.

"Sleep, or you'll get sick tomorrow morning. "

You smiled and inhaled the scented body wash he used. You absent-mindedly pressed a kiss to his chest, making him hum lovingly.

A moment of thinking passed and he then tipped your head back, to place a long tender kiss on your lips. You returned the kiss, feeling his plump lips against yours in delight, sending butterflies in your stomach.

After, you returned to his chest and he placed another kiss on your forehead, drifting you slowly to sleep.

oh adam, i'd die for you

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morganas-pendragons · 2 months ago

Text

haven | celebrimbor

look ma! something happy for once!

if you haven't caught on yet, i've been writing these oneshots with the intention of them to (hopefully) be read in a particular order -> if you want to get pieces of the rest of the story, please read.. (there are PLENTY more coming)

Set before S2

Ease -> First(s) (coming soon, will probably be a drabble..) -> Haven (this one!) -> Nightmare -> Wash Away The Blood

prompt: Celebrimbor takes you just outside of Eregion to a hidden pool for your first date. Not one Elf but him knows about it as it has been a haven since Eregion's foundations were laid.

tag: @pentaghasm (you know exactly why) -> @celebrimbormylove

***

You're almost positive you've heard him wrong. It's only been a matter of days since you'd shared that kiss in the rain, and now it seems as if he's asking you - in the presence of his smiths, nonetheless - to meet him tomorrow for something he's calling a ''morning commitment.''

It's fortunate for you that you've come to know that Celebrimbor is a terrible liar.

Apparently, commitment means date.

"Good morning, nin tinu," His voice draws your attention away from your morning cup of tea as he steps out onto the balcony. Ever since he kissed you out here mere days before, you've made a habit of coming out here before the sun rises to hear the kingfishers. "For someone who prefers to rise with the late morning sun, you are up early."

"That's because someone has been occupying my thoughts," You tease. You run a teasing finger around the rim of your teacup as his cheeks flush pink. "And I've come to enjoy the sound of the kingfishers. You've given me yet another thing to appreciate about your city."

"It will eventually be our city." Celebrimbor remarks. The two of you lean against the railing simultaneously and sip at your tea. While your thoughts are consumed by the implications of his statement, he's trying to figure out how to properly ask you to follow him out of the city so he can follow through on his ''commitment."

Celebrimbor blinks in confusion as you run a tender thumb across the furrow of his brow. "You do that when you're too deep in thought," You remark softly. "Is something wrong?"

"I have decided to take the day off from the forge today. It is a beautiful day, and I wish to spend it with you." Celebrimbor said. "However, the other smiths believe me to be following through on a prior commitment I made to you. They just believe it is regarding the weapon you asked me to craft."

"And what is it really in regards to?"

"I have something I'd like to show you outside of the city. It requires several hours worth of time. Would you like to accompany me?"

There's so much hope in those kind eyes. You'd never deny Celebrimbor, not when he's so earnest and open with you, but something about the way he's looking at you says that he's eager. This is something precious to him that he does not wish to share with anyone else.

You smile and nod. "When do we leave?"

***

The place in question that Celebrimbor leads you to a few hours later is nothing short of a haven: The swimming hole that lies before you is breathtaking. Celebrimbor has taken your hand where you stand on the edge of the ledge before you, a ledge that dips just enough for one to propel themselves off the edge and into waters below.

The trees shroud the watering hole from unsuspecting eyes.

"This has been here since before Eregion's creation," Celebrimbor says lowly in your ear, hands wandering to rest against your sides as you lean into his chest. "I have not shown it to another soul. It is... my haven."

You hum softly in acknowledgment as he presses a kiss to the junction of your shoulder that has your toes curling in your boots.

"And tell me," You reply. "Why is it a haven for you?"

"Because even amid all the turmoil that has been in my life," He does not look at the water as he speaks, but rather at you, because Celebrimbor is confident that every word rings true for the person who has become his true haven. A haven is a place of refuge, after all. "I'm reminded of the existence of beautiful things."

You go silent for several minutes. It's been such a long time since you've been this close to the water - as your last experience was when the sailors of Eregion pulled you out of the sea when you fell - and you're hesitant to tell him that you're not quite confident of your abilities in swimming.

"And what does one do in the presence of such beauty?" You peel yourself away from him and cross your arms to remove your tunic, revealing the underclothes you'd chosen for the occasion. They were meant to withstand water. "Hm?"

You bend to remove your boots.

Celebrimbor immediately feels his mouth go dry. The last time this had happened, he had been the one unclothed in front of you.

"My clothes are much more confining than yours, my love," He muses weakly. "I may need more help getting out of them."

The late morning sunlight glints against your hair as you step forward to meet him, fingers wrapping around the fabric of your favorite set of red robes as he lifts his arms and the robe comes off. He too is wearing appropriate small clothes to withstand water.

If his mouth went dry, your mouth is the equivalent of the desert. He is a sight to behold.

"I'm sorry," It's rare for you to lose your carefully crafted composure, especially in front of him, but Celebrimbor finds himself endlessly entertained as you reach out a hand and press it into the divot of his chest. "I know I have technically seen this before, but you hide this all the time?"

"My eyes are up here, my love," Celebrimbor teases. Laughter echoes against the trees as he lowers his gaze to where now both of your hands rest against his chest. "Come. Let's enjoy this time."

***

It takes Celebrimbor far longer than he cares to admit to realize you are afraid.

After taking the initiative to wade out toward the waterfall, he had been expecting you to follow him. What Celebrimbor found once he turned around was you lingering in the sand. It was evident from the unease written across your face that you were afraid to move forward.

"Are you coming?" He calls in question, clearly confused.

"I..."

Your eyes find him across the pool. He's truly the most handsome man you have ever seen, but you are most transfixed by his eyes. Celebrimbor's eyes are his most attractive quality. You could spend hours upon hours studying them: The flecks of brown held within the deep hazel that seems to go on forever, holding centuries upon centuries of kindness that so often is overlooked.

The words pour from your lips before you can halt them. You are almost embarrassed that they're spoken at all. "The last time I was in water such as this was when your sailors found me in the sea. I was terrified. This-"

"I will not let you drown," Celebrimbor says softly as he emerges from the water, droplets trailing down his chest to disappear at his waist and below. "I will not let anything happen to you. You know that."

The unspoken question of, "Do you trust me?" lingers in his words as Celebrimbor holds his hand out to you. You think that you could conquer any fear if he's there by your side to help combat it.

You'd rush into the front lines of an unwinnable war if he'd fight it alongside you.

Celebrimbor has never been a warrior. He's a crafter, a creator, someone who only uses his hands for goodness. Your hands... you don't even want to know what they've done.

You're determined to change the narrative. Even if you have committed things that you can't remember, the act of taking Celebrimbor's hand opens an entirely new possibility of only goodness.

You link your fingers and follow him into the water.

Celebrimbor's smile is well worth conquering your fear. "There you go," His voice is encouraging as he stops where the water touches both of your waists. He's taller than you here. "I'm proud of you, my love. I know conquering fears is hard."

Your eyes venture upward. Celebrimbor has pushed his hair back behind his ears with his fingers, but there's one singular curl hanging against his forehead.

You tilt your head and curl it around your finger.

"Is there a reward for conquering fears?" You ask innocently, batting your lashes up at the Elven Smith who only laughs in response. Celebrimbor has not asked to properly court you. Not yet, but you want him to.

To answer your question, Celebrimbor cups your face in his hands and lowers his mouth to kiss you. You sink against him with ease and press your fingers into his shoulders to grasp at him as he eases your legs around his waist and moves deeper into the pool to the waterfall.

You whine as his tongue curls around your own and licks into the warmth of your mouth. He's just as good with his mouth as he is with his hands.

"Your other reward?" Celebrimbor begins as the two of you slip just underneath the waterfall. You shriek, burying your head in his shoulder as he tightens his arms around your waist. "I am not sure about your reward, but the sound of your laughter and the lure of your mouth is such a satisfactory reward for me, my love."

Celebrimbor holds you there for what feels like years. You do not mind. You could spend the rest of your eternity here with him and be completely content.

"I want to move forward with proper elven courtship," You say softly into Celebrimbor's ear, pressing your nose against his temple as you play with the loose, damp curls at the nape of his neck. "But only if you wish the same."

Celebrimbor had been wishing the same since he first kissed you that night on his balcony with the whole of his own city as his witness. He knew you were still adapting, still learning a whole new life, and becoming a whole new you, and for that, he did not wish to impose his own feelings when you were still wrestling with your own.

He smiled and slowly twisted his body in the water, eyes watching as you eased yourself to float atop the pool and allowed him to hold you upright.

"I would like nothing more, nin tinu," Is all he can reply, helpless and at your total mercy as you throw your arms out and embrace your fears while your refuge keeps you contained within his embrace, unwilling to let you go. "and I thank you for coming with me."

***

Less than a week later, you awaken to a gift on your side table in your chambers. It is a pendant.

A pendant with a sun and holly leaf. There is a note underneath the pedant in Celebrimbor's handwriting that makes your stomach flutter.

A reminder, for you, of our beginning.

#Celebrimbor #Celebrimbor x Reader #Rings of Power #rings of power fanfiction

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