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spectral-snippets-and-drabbles · 2 years ago

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@fandombrainrots, I have a question and a few additions of my own, if you don't mind.

So what would happen if someone pulled one of Danny's tails? I can't recall exactly how it goes but it's said that how pulling one of the Kitsune's tails would give the person some serious bad luck or get burned by the Fox Fire, burning their souls to nothing. He has an ice core in fandom, yeah?

I can see Danny running from the Batman and his flock one night close to Crime Alley after several months in Gotham and under Hood's protection and getting one or all of them pulled by either Bruce or maybe a younger, trigger-happy Damian (He'd probably threaten to cut them all off if Fox didn't stop running.) to interrogate the meta teen/young adult and stop him from running away...only for it to blow up in their faces when someone gets partially/completely frozen in unmeltable ice or getting cursed with bad luck so severe that they can't go out on patrol because of it due to risks.

If Danny is King of the Infinite Realms in this au, the curse could be powerful enough that it could even affect the entire vigilante roster (minus Jason) in Gotham as retribution on Danny's mythical vulpine instincts.

Where as normal Kitsune's Fox Fire can burn the soul into nothing, the Fox Frost will slowly freeze the soul and body until it eventually shatters both and melt the remains out of mortal existence. It's a race to find Fox before time runs out, but the vulpine doesn't want to be found.

Meaning Alfred was exempt from the blast and could probably play an important part in this story. Maybe he can coax the clearly traumatized young fox-man into lifting the curse after explaining everything during a nice hot meal? Maybe get some silver shotgun shells ready for a certain "fruit loop" because the butler won't hesitate to put this 'Plamus' fellow another 6 feet under after what Fox told him what the S.O.B did to the fox boy and his family.

Just because Bruce hesitates doesn't mean he won't.

The butler also wants his idiot son and vigilante family to keep their distance from the boy until he's ready to talk. They've already made things bad by assaulting him and Alfred will make it worse by taking an extended, lengthy vacation with Fox in tow if they don't leave the poor soul be.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

The Justice League Dark Members can't do anything because the puller's/family's very soul(s) has been branded by an abnormally powerful bad luck curse and tampering with it can destroy said soul.

John Constantine doesn't even want to get near the Batfam and the idiot who was stupid enough to grab the tails of a very young, freakishly powerful Fox Spirit with death magic on Venom because it could risk anyone who tampers with it getting irreversible bad luck and dying. He can't have his luck or life getting affected, so John just tells them over the phone to simply find the fox and sincerely grovel at his feet with meaningful gifts so the curse can probably be lifted. Attempting anything funny will only made things go from bad to worse...like, turning all of Gotham into the Kitsune's personal playground to play with and break as he saw fit levels of worse.

(So now the odds are stacked very heavily in Danny's favor and the Batfam must appease him or suffer even further.)

...The only problem is that Danny has never let anyone touch his tails before without his consent since they emerged with his ears while he's was running and is still very scared (he just doesn't show it). The only times where they did get yanked on were by children who were scared and didn't want 'Mr.Fox', Jason's/Hood's bodyguard, to leave them alone after he rescued them.

(No literal threat on his literal tails = No curse upon ye.)

So this means Danny literally has no idea of the extent of the danger he has put on the Batfam and thereby all of Gotham by cursing the Caped Crusaders into being benched. To make matters even worse, the bad encounter has triggered Danny's fight or flight response, making the traumatized meta go into hiding with no means to contact anyone.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

Everyone in Hood's turf knows the crime lord is absolutely furious as they are at the Bats because Danny was finally starting to warm up to Crime Alley and Hood himself before he was attacked by the Dark Knight and his posse before running away to wherever it was that he fled to. The people who live there hurl insults and anything they can find at the Bats if they try to enter Crime Alley to search for Fox, telling them to fuck off and to not come back.

Jason saw how cautious Danny was at first when he saw the small, bushy tailed...person(?) and how it was practically borderline paranoia.

The only times he saw his bodyguard's defenses go down was to reassure the civilians he saved from rival gangs and traffickers with gentle reassurances. That soft, loving voice he used for the youngest children who clung to him like glue, making ice figurines for them to take home...Only to raise them back up when talking to the adults who weren't victims of crimes committed by non-Crime Valley gangs.

The way Fox would keep his eyes on exits and potential escape routes if the need to run arised, refused to be touched by anyone, not eating or drinking anything given to him out of fear it was tampered with and making his own or getting take out. That sort of trauma and stress makes Jason sympathetic to Danny and spreads the word to give him space. He's been brought a lot.

The kicker was the fact that the Fox had bluntly told Jason about the origin of his pit madness like it was no big deal and swore a steely-eyed vow to heal it made the crime lord feel something blooming in his heart and wishes he could get a fraction of that anger back so he could brandish it at his family for chasing Danny away.

Ok just a random idea that I had to put down before I forgot it- and it feels so silly but it makes my brain go brrrrr

So, Kitsune AU Danny after a classic reveal gone wrong, the kitsune is from a meta gene he discovered while on the run. He winds up in Gotham, hiding his ears and tail as he starts trying to settle in. Cue Red Hood’s gang approaching Jason, telling him he needs to get himself a body guard, because everyone knows he has a thing going with sweet book-nerd Jason Todd. Red hood catches Danny saving a child, and just goes, “ya I’d let him protect me.”

I will flesh this out more later I swear-

( psssss @stealingyourbones can I has opinion)

#danny phantom #justice league #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #not mine #Lady Gotham and her blessing for her knights is overriden by Danny's bad luck curse #making them easier to see in the shadows and give criminals a paranoia that they're near by #Honestly I can only see Bruce and Damian are the most likely to start this and get upset that it's affecting their ability to be in costume #The people of Crime Alley also find it easier to detect the bats and start yelling at them #Bruce gets paranoid that this could lead to them getting identities exposed and stays in the manor #Telling his workers that an illness has spread around the family to give them time to find Danny #Joker probably finds danny and tries to get a rise out Hood by successfully kidnapping Danny #Only for Danny to start freezing the whole room and slowly becoming Eldritch as his growling becomes more distorted #Danny shyly returns to Jason as a giant Eldritch Fox with the Joker in his mouth like a cat with a fucking bird #“I'm sorry I ran away from you my love I bring you a gift to show my sincerity”#and it's just the mangled body of the clown that has given Jason and all of Gotham nothing but trouble ☠️#It was in the middle of a meeting with Hood and now everyone is just silently looking at demon fox who just dropped the corpse on the groun #Hood's men realize that their boss is a monsterfucker and in a three way relationship with Fox and Jason Todd #Good for him #dead on main

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strohller27 · 7 months ago

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#today was a weird work day #first some lady returns her purchase and then IMMEDIATELY drops almost 1000 bucks on gifts #then some other lady comes in to try on sweaters and dunk on my favourite tartan #THEN another lady orders like 10 of the same thing (that we only keep one or two of in stock) and says she needs it by the end of this month #(LOL sorry. that’s not happening. I am not magic)#then it’s quiet for like 12 hours #and then everybody comes in at the last minute to buy things #I’m so tired .-.#just retail things

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athulyaaindia · 9 months ago

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Indian Return Gift Bags: A Unique Blend of Tradition and Elegance

Return gift bags hold a special place in Indian culture, often presented to guests as a token of appreciation for their presence at various events. These bags are more than just carriers of gifts; they embody the essence of Indian hospitality, tradition, and craftsmanship. This article explores the charm and variety of indian return gift bags , their cultural significance, and tips on choosing the perfect ones for your occasion.

Cultural Significance

In India, the practice of giving return gifts is deeply rooted in tradition. It is a gesture of gratitude and respect towards guests who have honored the host with their presence. Whether it's a wedding, a birthday party, a festival celebration, or any other significant event, return gift bags serve as a memorable token of the event's joyous spirit. They are a way to ensure that the warmth and hospitality of the occasion are remembered long after the event is over.

Varieties of Indian Return Gift Bags

Traditional Cloth Bags: Made from fabrics like silk, jute, or cotton, these bags often feature intricate embroidery, beadwork, or mirror work. They are ideal for adding a traditional touch to your return gifts.

Eco-friendly Bags: With a growing emphasis on sustainability, eco-friendly gift bags made from recycled materials or organic fabrics are becoming increasingly popular. These bags not only look stylish but also convey a message of environmental consciousness.

Hand-painted Bags: These are unique and artistic, featuring traditional Indian motifs or modern designs. Hand-painted bags add a personal and artistic flair to your return gifts.

Designer Bags: For a more luxurious touch, designer return gift bags made from premium materials with sophisticated designs are a great choice. These bags often feature high-quality craftsmanship and can be reused by the recipients.

Personalized Bags: Customizing your return gift bags with names, initials, or a special message can add a personal touch. These bags make the guests feel special and add a unique charm to the gift.

Choosing the Perfect Return Gift Bags

Selecting the right return gift bags involves considering the nature of the event, the preferences of your guests, and the budget. Here are some tips to help you choose the perfect return gift bags:

Match the Theme: Ensure that the design and color of the gift bags complement the theme of the event. For example, for a traditional wedding, opt for bags with ethnic designs and rich colors.

Consider the Contents: The size and type of the gift bag should be appropriate for the gifts you plan to include. Make sure the bag is spacious and sturdy enough to hold the items without tearing.

Personalization: Adding a personal touch, such as the event date or a thank you note, can make the gift bags more memorable. Personalized bags are always appreciated by guests.

Quality and Durability: Choose bags made from high-quality materials that can be reused by the recipients. Durable bags serve as a lasting reminder of the event.

Eco-friendliness: Opt for environmentally friendly bags, especially if your event emphasizes sustainability. Eco-friendly bags are not only good for the environment but also reflect well on your values.

Popular Occasions for Indian Return Gift Bags

Weddings: Return gift bags at weddings often contain sweets, jewelry, or small decorative items. Traditional cloth bags with elaborate designs are popular for such occasions.

Festivals: During festivals like Diwali, Eid, or Christmas, return gift bags are filled with sweets, dry fruits, and small gifts. Eco-friendly and brightly colored bags are favored during these celebrations.

Birthdays: For children’s birthday parties, return gift bags may contain toys, candies, and stationery. Fun and vibrant designs are ideal for these events.

Corporate Events: In a corporate setting, return gift bags can include branded merchandise, stationery, or tech gadgets. Sleek and professional designs are preferred.

Conclusion

Indian return gift bags are an integral part of the country’s tradition of hospitality. They come in various styles and materials, each adding a unique charm to the event. By selecting the right return gift bags, you not only express gratitude but also leave a lasting impression on your guests, making your event truly unforgettable.

For more info. Visit us: return gifts for marriage return gifts for party return gifts wholesale in bangalore

#handmade return gifts #ladies return gifts #return gifts below 50 rupees

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 3 months ago

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Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser.

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop.

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch.

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here.

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son.

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius.

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back.

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it.

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire.

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede.

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once.

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table.

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you.

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife.

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore.

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands.

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet.

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade.

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head.

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret.

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle.

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps.

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows.

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains.

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin.

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence.

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh.

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open.

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you.

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod.

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire?

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard.

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his.

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight.

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees.

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head -

And closes his lips over you there.

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you.

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air.

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls.

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break.

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone.

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him.

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back.

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod.

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

#prima nocta #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator ii fanfiction #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x fem!reader #marcus acacius oneshot #marcus acacius smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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myladysapphire · 8 months ago

Text

Seduction

you had always longed to be queen but with your brother Aegon married to your twin sister you had lost hope, but upon your nephews return to the keep you realise all hope of being queen isn't lost. there was just one problem: your mother would never agree to marriage between you and Jace. So you set in motion a plan of seduction.

based of this request

word count: 2,182

CW: MDI 18+,smut,p in v, incest, not proofread!

Jacaerys Veleryon x Fem!reader

Masterlist

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: i may have used maergery tyrell as an inspiration for reader.

Growing up in the red keep you had long been surrounded by snakes eagerly vying at the iron throne, doing everything in their power to win more favour and a higher station.

You had hated them.

The false niceties, the fake smiles and the false companions who only desired a potential match between one of your brothers.

But what you hated the most about them, was that you were the same, or at least your ambitions were.

All your life you had desired one thing: to be queen of the seven kingdoms.

As the second born, you had hoped to marry Aegon, and with your mother and grandsires plots to one day make him king, it seemed as if being queen one day was only natural for you. But when he married your younger twin Heleana instead of you, the dream of becoming queen became just that.

And with no reason to support any claim your brother had, you set your sights to your elder sister, Rhaenyra. She had always been kind to you and Heleana, though you had never been too close. But it seemed she was now the only way for you to fulfil what you so deeply desired.

You knew your father would back her as heir no matter how many sons he sired with your mother, and so you realised you too had to support her claim, and then, and only then could you be queen, of course only if you marry her eldest first.

You had planted the idea in her head.

With Jace’s silly crush on you and you yourself hinting on how it would unite the family.

But your mother had rejected Rhaenrya’s suggestion.

And even know years after, you knew she would reject any suggestion of a betrothal between you both once more.

Instead, she favoured a marriage between you and one of the great lords of Westeros.

And even though you would still have a high status, and vast lands and riches, you would not be queen.

And no matter what, you would not settle for anything less.

You desired to be loved as a queen, to have the small folk lore and worship you, it was all you dreamed off. Not to rule, but to be loved by the masses.

You wished for songs and tales to be written of you, for many to compare you to the good queen Alysanne.

And, whilst you had focused your attentions on smallfolk, insisting spare food and leftovers be sent out to the smallfolk. Spent days in orphanages, commissioning the building of schools and healers’ offices.

You gathered up the love of the smallfolk, and though you were gifted the name of the ‘lady of the smallfolk’ and the ‘realms love’ it still wasn’t enough.

You had plenty of lords vying for your attention, many from great and rich houses.

But none could give you what you wanted.

That was until your nephews returned to the keep.

In your youth had ignored your plain-featured nephews, finding little in common with them and only seeing a potential marriage with Jace as a means to an end.

Perhaps that was why you had sent him letters throughout the years, claiming that you were egar to know your nephew and hated that he left before you could become close.

You wrote often, finding many things in common, and suddenly the idea of marrying Jace became a little more than just wanting to become queen.

You had grown to rather like your nephew, and now with his return to the red keep all you wanted now was not just be queen, but his wife.

There was one problem, however.

One being that Your mother would never betroth you willingly to him. She had refused it before, seeing Jace as a bastard and unfit for her daughter.

But from the look he sent you as you greeted him, dragging him around the castle insisting on catching up.

And from the nonstop wondering eyes at his younger brothers hearing, you were sure she wouldn’t be an obstacle for much longer.

As you walked into the courtyard to greet him and his family, Jace thought to himself that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

His eyes were drawn to you so naturally, and the smile you had sent him had been warm and kind. A look he scarcely received in these halls.

The way you had talked to him, telling him how deeply you treasured his letters, how dearly you had missed him.

You seemed so perfect, and gods would he do anything to marry you.

He had stared at you nonstop, and yet found no words to say to you. Even when you had walked the hall of the keep together. You had talked to him no stop, smiling so beautifully.

He had only stared and blushed. Unsure of what to say or do.

And now at dinner, you had walked in in a black gown. The dress itself was the image of your houses, covered in black dragon scales, and with no sleeves, instead arm rings in the shape of dragon wings, mimicking a sleeve, down both your arms. A deep v neckline, draped with a red scarf across one shoulder down to your waist, accentuating both your hips and breasts.

You were the very image of Targaryen beauty.

He couldn’t take his eyes of you. Even more so when you sat beside him, your legs brushing together.

You had smiled at him yet again, moving close to him as you talked to him.

His eyes were glued to your lips, watching as they moved to speak to him and those around you.

He had said little words to reply to your questions, only blushing whenever you spoke to him.

Then you had left, fanning you were tired and that you would escort the king back to his chambers before going to your own.

He had been sad you had left, with no longer your lips to stare at, or just your company to bask in.

Though he was glad you were not here to witness the infighting, his weak punch towards your brother Aemond, the mocking he had faced.

He had returned to is room in defeat, after facing a scolding from his mother and being sent to bed early like a child.

He entered his chambers, head down, kicking the door closed behind him in anger. He didn’t look up as he entered, instead choosing to ready himself for bed.

If he had he would have seen, you.

Laying naked on his bed.

You laughed to yourself, biting you lip as he faced away from you.

He jumped at the sound of your laugh, moving his clothes to quickly cover himself.

“Aunt?” he started, blushing as he took in your naked form. He turned from you, covering his eyes. “I- what are you doing?”

You laughed again, standing up and walking over to him, “isn’t it obvious, my prince?”

He stuttered; eyes still covered “this is in appropriate I should- “

You shushed him, grabbing his arm and turning him to face you “leave your own chambers?” you teased “why is something wrong with me being here?”

“I-no, no I like that you’re here but… your- naked!” he stuttered out.

You nodded, “so it appears I am”.

“Would you like some clothes?”

“Why? Am I not pleasing to you, my prince?” you asked, moving back and turning slowly to show off your body to him.

“no-no- I mean yes! YIs, very pleasing but this is inappropriate” “is it?” you teased, “why? Do you wish for me to go? Perhaps I should get one of the guards, so that we are not alone” you said, making your way to the door.

“No!” he said a little too loudly. “don’t, I- why are you here?”

You smiled, moving towards him once again. “I have missed you, Jace” you said, your face inches away from his, “you have grown so handsome, so…so kingly” you mouth now inches from his, “and I wished to give you a gift” he swallowed, “a gift?”

You nodded, humming, before placing your lips on his.

Your lips moved slowly against his, he was unsure, inexperienced. The kiss was slow and soft. It was short, though your breaths were both heavy as you pulled apart.

“Yes, Jace, a gift” you said, pulling your lips from his and reaching for his hand.

“Was that the gift?”

“Some of it” you said, grabbing his hand and placing it on your waist. “Did you know your mother planned to betroth us when we were younger?” he shook his head, “I was to be your wife, and now…we will soon be betrothed to others and I cannot have that, Jace” you breathed.

“Really?” he said, voice rough, his hands were both your waist, squeezing your hips softly, as if finally realising why you were naked.

‘Yes, for so long I dreamt of being your wife… I would even touch myself to the thought of you, of us”.

His breath was heavy, “you…you wish to give yourself to me?”

You answered him with another kiss, this one passionate, needy.

Pushing him down onto the bed, straddling him.

“I wish to be your wife, Jace” you breathed against his lips.

“You do?” he breathed, moving to kiss you once more, “but I am already betrothed,”

You looked down sadly, “I... Do not remind me, it pains me so”.

He sighed your name, “is that why you came here? To sleep with me so we must marry”.

“Oh, you must think me horrible” you said, moving to stand from his lap, only for him to pull you back down onto him.

“No, no not at all…I, I would be lying if I said I had never desired to marry you, but- “

“But nothing, my sweet prince” you said, moving in to kiss him once more, if he wished to marry you also, then this was only even more perfect.

Your seduction almost unneeded.

But gods did you want him.

He moaned, into your mouth, his hands desperately gripping your waist, before hesitantly moving up to cup your breasts.

You let out a moan as he gave them a tentative squeeze, before moving to roll your nipples between his fingers.

He was moved slowly, testing out what you liked, and egar to learn what made you moan.

You yourself started to kiss down his neck as he played with your breasts. Your hips still slowly grinding against.

His cock had grown hard beneath you.

His groans increasing as you continued to grind against him.

Your wet cunt coating his cock, her entrance teasing him with each movement of her hips.

“please” he begged, unsure of what exactly what he was begging for.

You stood up from his lap and pushed him to lie down on the bed.

You smiled as you took him in. his pretty face, full of lust and desire. The want clear on his face.

“Wait!” he said stooping you, as you crawled over his body, positioning your entrance above his long hard cock.

“Yes?” you sighed; breath heavy.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“of course, you want us to marry, yes?” he nodded, “and my mother would never approve of it unless…unless we give ourselves to one another.”

“Gods…I, I- your right” he said, reaching up to kiss you as he finally filled you. His cock stretching you out in a way you didn’t know possible. The pleasure near overwhelming.

You both moaned as he fully entered you.

“Gods!” he moaned, his hands going to grip your waist.

Your hands rested on his chest, preparing to move as you finally adjusted to his length.

Slowly you began to move your hips, trying to slowly build a rhythm and find what you both liked.

But it seemed the shy unsure Jace you had been witnessed to all night faded, as Jace gripped your hips and started to thrust up into you.

He set a fast past, and though you tried to keep up, Jace soon flipped you and instead started thrusting into you. His hips moved hard and fast, your moans were loud as you got lost in the pleasure.

Jace had buried himself in your neck, holding onto you as he thrusted into you.

Both of your peaks were fast approaching.

You felt his cock pulse inside of you as you clenched around him.

Moaning his name as you came, before he picked up the face, fulling your face to his as he came, filling you with his seed.

He collapsed on you, his breath heavy.

“Gods, that was…incredible” he smiled, reaching up to kiss you once more. “now all that’s left is for us to get married” he joked, pulling you in for a hug.

And from the scream of the maid as she came to wake Jace up in the morning, she was sure that in no time news would reach their mothers, and they would be wed.

And she would get everything she ever desired.

authors note: i hate this ending! there is so much i wanted to say but i just couldnt word it correclty, but i hope you all enjoyed it!

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @zillahvathek @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @clobo @aegonswife

to be added to taglist

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

Text

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

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paint-the-walls-white · 11 months ago

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I don't share

Pairing: Possessive!König x Fem!Reader

Summary: König doesn't like sharing you, which is exactly why you had been married for almost ten years and none of his comrades knew about you. At least, not until he drunkenly spilled the beans and you showed up the next day with a box of cookies..

Warnings: Bondage! MDom! Doggy! CreamPie! OverStim! Oral(M2F)!

König was very secretive of his personal life on account of his social anxiety. He had been transfered to Task Force 141 for a while and had made pretty good friends with them, but of course, one night TF141 was making fun of him while drinking and in his own drunken haze he blurted out something that didn't go unnoticed,

"If you keep making fun of my wife, I'll kill you. Oh wait, that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

He was very protective and possessive of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. But he had accidently revealed that he had a wife, and everyone kept pestering him about it.

"I bet she's a strong lass aye? Big as an Ox! Only person that makes sense fer a mountain" Soaps slurred comment made him scoff as König kept sipping on his vodka, aggravated and embarrassed.

"What she do fer a living König? She a construction worker or somethin?"

König looked at Gaz with bewilderment. "A construction worker? where the hell did you get that? Gott.. Nein she's a baker."

Even Ghost was muttering how she probably had massive arms to carry 8 trays at once of protein bars. König kept to himself the rest of the night before returning home to you.

"Hi mein Liebe, I'm home." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, stripping off his tactical vest and mask then kicking off his boots.

"How was your night with the boys? Was it fun?"

He lied down on top of you, burying his face in your chest, crushing your small frame as he huffed annoyed.

"Kept making fun of you...Arschlöcher.. kept sayin you were a big burly lady.."

You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. You told him to ignore them because they didn't know what they were talking about, they were just trying to get a rise out of him.

He sighed, content in your arms as he fell into a drunken sleep on top of you, the crushing pressure more than welcomed.

The next day you decided to surprise König on base with a little gift. The guards of course did not believe that you were his wife so you pulled out the marriage certificate and your spouse ID card to shove it in their face. They were gob smacked as they discovered he had a wife and informed you he was currently at the cantina.

You were directed where to go, a box of chocolate chip cookies in had as you made your way there. Once inside, the place gradually got quiet as you made your way over to your husband giddy as his back faced you.

König was currently berating his friends about making fun of you again until he noticed that they weren't even paying attention, they were looking behind him.

He turned, and there you were, barely meeting his eye level while he was sitting, a box of cookies in hand adorned in a pleated pink skirt and a white tank top with a knit sweater and chunky white heels.

"Surprise! I brought you cookies Liebe!"

The horror that flooded his gaze was unmatched. He quickly wrapped around you to hide you from onlookers, glaring in their direction.

"Mein Liebe, what are you doing here? You are for my eyes only!"

You pouted into him, pushing off of his chest, "I wanted to surprise you," His eyes softened and he huffed, turning to glare at the men at the table who were still gaping in your direction.

"Thas your wife König? The lass is like half your size!" Soap stared on in horror, you could tell what he was thinking about so you hid in his shirt.

"Let's go." He stood, throwing you over his shoulder and flattening your skirt over your ass. Your face was red as you tried to keep the box from being crushed, and you just stared down, completely embarrassed.

"König put me down!" You kicked your legs, trying to fight him off, but he just smacked your ass and carried you out of the cantina, everyone completely silent.

"What the hell just happened." Ghost shrugged at Soaps comment and just kept eating silently.

König had carried you all the way to his quarters, gently placing you on the bed. The blood had rushed to your head so you were bright red.

He knelt, taking off your shoes and rubbing at your sore feet.

"Why did you think this was a good idea mein Liebe? Hmm?"

"I just wanted to bring you a treat.. I thought you'd like seeing me here.."

König sighed, kissing your shin before he looked up at you with his piercing gaze.

"Lamm, I can't keep my eyes off of you, which means neither can other men. I'm the only one that gets to look at you. Du bist mein."

You huffed and averted your gaze, cheeks a bright pink as you handed him a cookie.

"Still, you didn't have to make a scene.." He simply chuckled and stood.

"I know you like it when I toss you around Liebling, you cant fool me. I know you loved the attention."

He caged you in on the bed, prompting you to lie on your back, legs hanging off the edge. You pulled up his mask to reveal his mouth and pressed your lips to his. König groaned softly, slanting his lips against yours, intensifying the kiss.

You moaned and panted into his mouth, whimpering at the flavor of his tongue against yours. He ran a hand up your thigh, squeezing your soft skin in his calloused hands.

He pulled away to attack your neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin

"K-König.. what if someone sees-!"

"Don't care.. they need to know who you belong to... Du bist mein..."

You squirmed underneath him, far too excited at the attention he was giving you, especially when he slipped a finger under your panties and rubbed at your sloppy folds.

"Scheiße.. du bist so wet for me Liebe.."

You watched with dazed eyes as he slid off the bed onto his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he ripped off your underwear and started sucking on your clit. You immediately grabbed at the fabric of his mask and threw your head back, arching into his mouth as you moaned loudly.

König quickly sunk two fingers into your wet cunt, rubbing at your sensitive walls as he fucked you with his hand. You met his gaze and whimpered as he continued eating you out like a starved man. He moaned against your pussy as you came on his hands and face, plenty of slick being absorbed into the fabric hiding his face.

A soft whine escaped as he cleaned up your mess with his tongue, savoring every drop of your arousal. He stood, sucking his fingers clean as he stared down at your spent form lying limply on the bed.

"Braves Mädchen.."

You lied there, staring at him as you tried to grasp a single thought after that mind blowing orgasm, but you just blushed when you noticed his dick straining against his pants.

"What is it Liebling? You want more? Dirty little slag..."

Gnawing on your lip, you nodded, completely drunk on his attention. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and shucked from his pants immediately made you throb for him.

He bound your wrists with the belt, flipping you on your stomach so you were bent over the side of the bed. You had to stand on your toes, causing your legs to shake at the stretch.

"König.. Please.." He chuckled at your desperate plea as he forced your knees back onto the bed so your hips met his. He rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you by swiping over your clit.

You whined, burying your face further into the mattress as the friction of the blanket rubbed against your knees. König sunk the head of his cock into you, eliciting a pitiful moan as he stretched you wide, this fat cock stuffing into you inch by inch.

He groaned softly at the friction, praising you for taking him so well, "It's like you were made for me Mein Liebe, wrapped so fucking tight around me... Scheiße.."

He slowly pulled out then sunk back in, reveling in the feel of your gummy cunt wrapping tight around his meaty shaft. You whined, pressing against him to meet each thrust, tears staining the mattress as you took his cock.

König nearly growled every time you sucked him back in, head thrown back as he pulled your hips against his.

"I don't share Liebling.. You're all mine.. Only I get to see you.. get to fuck you... Scheiße.."

He moaned as you tightly squeezed around him, creaming on his dick. He watched as a ring of white collected at the base of his cock, stuffing it all the way in before spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking down your thighs as you whimpered at the empty feeling. He gently undid the belt around your wrists and pressed a kiss to your forehead through his mask.

"Stay there Liebling, Ill clean you up.."

König stepped away to get a washcloth soaked in warm water, gently cleaning off the arousal that had covered your legs and folds, placing a gently kiss on your ass and putting your underwear, socks and shoes back on for you.

"Now let's get you out of here, I don't need anyone else looking at my beauty.." you just nodded slowly and tried to rise on shaky legs. Clinging to his arm, he walked you back to your car, many onlookers staring in shock and utter horror.

He raised his mask above his nose and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you leave. When you started the car, window still rolled down, he listened intently to the radio, realizing you were listening to his playlist.

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus..

You flushed, turning down the radio and meekly met his gaze, "I like that song.. Reminds me of you.."

His piercing blue eyes told you all you needed to know. When he got home, you wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Because he was going to make sure you couldn't walk.

#smut #bde #konig smut #konig x reader #konig cod

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aaagustd · 23 days ago

Text

friends & lovers | jww (m)

title: friends & lovers pairing: jeon wonwoo x female reader genre/rating: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers; 18+ summary: Sometimes the love you’re searching for has been right beside you all along. Patience is the key…the right moment will present itself eventually. wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), restraints (wrist pinning), grinding/dry humping, clit stimulation, slight orgasm control, cumshots, crying, begging, soft sex, pet names, nipple play, cum play, aftercare release date: february 9th, 2025; 9:23pm est author’s note: Hello!! This was a bday gift I wrote for @beomcoups a while back. Huge shoutout to @hobeemin for beta reading it for me at the time. I’m currently moving all of my old content here, so if you’ve read this before don’t be alarmed lol. I’m the original author.

“People are staring at us.”

You both giggle as the carousel makes its final round, shyly peeking over your shoulders at the crowd of people watching you. Somehow, Wonwoo managed to get the ride operator to start it up with just you two on.

Both of you hopped from seat to seat like you used to do when you were kids, and your parents had to threaten to take you home if you didn’t remain seated. Although you’re adults now, you’re still fond of the old habit.

“So, let them,” you shrug. “Maybe they’ve got eyes for the cutie on the horse.”

“Can you stop?”

Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs and clutches his stomach, giving you a glimpse of the smile you haven’t seen in months.

Ever since he and his girlfriend broke things off, he’s been cooped up in his apartment, feeling down and not wanting to be bothered. You’re glad he accepted your offer to go to the fair and take his mind off things. He says he’s fine and looks better than he did five months ago, but you know that something’s still bothering him, and you hope that tonight you can dig deep enough to find it.

“Why would I? This is fun.”

You both step off as the ride stops, feeling high with adrenaline. Suddenly, you feel his fingertips at your sides, and he playfully tickles you, making you shriek and squirm.

“Wonwoo!”

On-lookers coo and clutch their chest, mainly older couples and romantics. Neither of you even notices the admiration they have in their eyes until someone grabs your attention.

“You two are such a beautiful couple. May my husband and I have a picture with you? You just remind us of our younger selves,” a lady in her golden years asks with a genuine smile.

Immediately, you begin to break the news to her, but Wonwoo interferes.

“Oh, ma’am, we’re not—”

“Sure! I’ll take it. I have long arms,” he insists, taking her phone when she hands it to him. Wonwoo throws his arm over your shoulder and holds it high enough to capture all four of you. He takes the picture but doesn’t stop there. “Now one for us.”

After returning the woman’s phone to her and her husband, he pulls his device from his pocket and takes another, but this time he brings you in a bit closer. He wraps his arm around you a little tighter and whispers in your ear as he snaps the picture.

“For new memories,” he says to you.

You release a shaky breath when you disperse, and you can’t do anything but smile and wave as the couple bids their farewells.

You never could explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever Wonwoo would be so close to you in that way. It always seems so intimate, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. You know it’s only those buried feelings that are causing you to react this way and nothing you should feed into.

When you’re finally alone, you turn to him and ask, “So, what now? Are you ready to go?”

“A little bit,” he answers.

“Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’m probably just gonna go grab something to eat until my roommate’s done fucking her boyfriend. I had fun, so thanks for coming—”

You pause when Wonwoo shakes his head.

“I said I was ready to leave here,” he informs. “Not leave you.”

“Oh, okay. So umm, where do you wanna go?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he quizzes. “We can go grab something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he continues.

“Or…we can meet at my place, and we can order something. You can stay over if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I don’t mind,” he assures.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

Your mouth shuts when he gives you a look, but your smile grows when he turns away and starts walking toward the parking lot.

Both of you get in your vehicles and drive towards his apartment, the tingling sensation still coursing through your veins. You try your best to calm yourself before you get there, but as you get out of your car, your legs are wobbly and shaky, indicating that you are far from okay.

Wonwoo turns to you as his door opens.

“Wanna shower?”

Gratefully, you sigh. “Yes, please.”

After a shower, slices of pizza, and a couple of movies, you and Wonwoo lay awkwardly in his bed. Both of you scroll through your phones, trying to ignore the thick tension in the air. There’s something on his tongue; you can hear it. You want to ask him, but you don’t know how.

Eventually, you start to believe it’s just your nerves. You haven’t hung out like this since before his two-year-long relationship, so you figure you just need some re-adjusting. You wiggle your way towards him so you can familiarize yourself with the feeling of being so close to him.

It isn’t long before his fingers start playing in your hair, making your eyes slightly heavy. You roll over on your back so you can look at him and try to stop yourself from falling asleep so quickly.

His smile greets you and leaves you slightly curious.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighs. “I missed you. That’s all.”

When his eyes begin to wander, you follow them once they’ve set on a particular sight. It just happens to be your thighs, and you start tugging down your borrowed shirt upon the discovery.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

You clear your throat. “Wonwoo, I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself again, but I don’t think I can be your rebound. I’m not—”

“What? No, love. It’s definitely not like that. It’s just…Fuck it.” He shifts in his spot so he can speak to you face to face, leaving you no option but to look at him, even though you’ve been avoiding eye contact since you got here. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s about the breakup…why it happened,” he explains.

You blink a few times. You never knew the reason behind the split or how it happened; it wasn’t your place to ask. Now that he’s finally telling you, there’s an uneasy feeling growing inside of you.

“We broke up because we liked other people. She wasn’t over her ex, and I…”

“And you?...”

He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to lay it all on the table.

“I had to be honest with myself and admit that I’m really in love with my best friend,” he confesses.

Your eyes widen, lips ready to run a mile a minute, but he speaks before you do.

“I thought about this before, but the timing was just never right. And now…” he sighs. “I don’t know. I just feel like we’re on the same page, but then again, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Wonwoo, I—”

“I know. You don’t feel the same.”

The disappointment in his voice gives you all the courage you need to come clean, and you do so before you can change your mind.

“I do feel the same,” you admit. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers. I just never knew how to tell you.”

He seems a little shocked after hearing this.

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

“Yeah.”

Your best friend just stares at you, not saying anything. You hold his gaze and never break eye contact. Moments go by like this, until eventually, his lips begin to hover over yours. They become more inviting the longer you lay there waiting for something to happen.

However, Wonwoo toughens up and makes the first move on your behalf. His mouth presses against yours delicately, and he lowers his body so that you can run your hands through his hair.

You envelop each other and get lost within the first shared kiss between two best friends who have been denying their love for one another for over a decade. The pit of your stomach goes into a frenzy as the butterflies rise and flutter wildly.

Dizziness clouds your mind as you’re swept away by the feeling. You’re light as a feather, so high that coming down seems impossible.

It doesn’t help that Wonwoo’s lips have become greedier, and his desire is growing by the second. Your legs part to allow him in the space, and he takes the opportunity instantly. Your wrists get pinned above your head while he slowly begins to grind his crotch against yours.

A moan slips out, and he takes the chance to invade your mouth with his thick muscle. Your tongues begin exploring each other’s crevice, and you become drunk off his taste. You can’t get enough of him but the need for oxygen exceeds your lust-driven fantasies.

“I want you,” you say without much thought. Your breathing is labored and rough, but you still try to speak. “I need you.”

“Fuck, same. But…”

“But what?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No condoms.”

His voice oozes with need, and his bulge is straining against his shorts. He’s as desperate as you are, but he’s trying to hold back.

“We’re good on this end. It’s okay,” you assure him. “Are you?...”

He nods. “Yes, of course. I haven’t since…”

“Well, can we?” you try again. “Please?”

“Okay, baby.”

Wonwoo lets go of your wrists and pulls down his shorts, letting his dick spring out freely. A small gasp escapes you when his length slaps your thigh. You lift your head to see it and instantly become mesmerized by its girth. You crave it and want it to fill every inch of you just like you’ve always fantasized about in your room alone.

“Like what you see?” He smirks when you nod and starts to run the tip up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal and secretly stimulating your throbbing clit. “Let’s see if you can take it.”

When he slowly enters you, your mind goes completely blank. You arch into him as he bottoms out, and he holds you and places kisses up your neck.

“Wonwoo,” you call, and he smiles against your skin.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, please. I want to feel you.”

Wonwoo’s movements start strong, and he makes sure to hold you in place while he thrusts into you, preventing you from flying off the bed. You cry his name over and over with each powerful snap of his hips.

He lifts your shirt and exposes your breasts to his greedy mouth, taking his time with each stiffened peak and making your eyes roll back from the multiple sources of pleasure you’re receiving.

The coil inside you tightens until it can no longer stand the pressure, and you blurt out a warning to inform Wonwoo of your orgasm.

“Wonwoo, I’m so close!”

“Me too, baby,” he moans in your ear. You run your nails down his sweaty back to ground yourself because it feels like your soul will leave your body any minute. Wonwoo goes deeper and deeper until you can no longer stand the build-up growing inside of you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And on his command, your body gives in, and the pleasure takes over you. Tears roll down your cheeks, but Wonwoo kisses you before the salty droplets can reach your trembling lips. Your entire body is set aflame by the heat coursing through you. The intense feeling leaves you a panting mess beneath Wonwoo, and you just lay there as he fucks you through the rest of your orgasm until he finally reaches his release.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Anywhere you want,” you answer. “I don’t mind.”

He can only nod as he pulls out and paints your stomach with his warm cum. Wonwoo uses the tip to smear his arousal and spell his name on your skin, making you giggle and slap his arm.

“You’re nasty,” you tell him.

“Anywhere you want… I don’t mind,” he mocks but still leans down to kiss you.

You pout when he pulls away and disappears into his bathroom for about a minute. When he returns, you’re grateful to see him with a warm washcloth and a new shirt for you. He cleans you up and helps you change before he turns out the lights and joins you in bed. Neither of you say anything at first, but eventually, he can’t hold his tongue anymore.

“I really am in love with you. I would have never done this had you not asked. You’re more than a rebound—”

“I know that, Wonwoo. We’re good, okay?”

You turn on your side so you can hug him, and he nestles in your embrace.

“So, are we keeping this a secret or…?”

You release a breath before you answer, absentmindedly playing in his brown locks. You think about your answer for a moment, and then you reply.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself… I’ve waited all my life to call you my boyfriend.”

“So what does that mean?” he asks shyly.

“It means…” You tilt his head so he can look at you. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the truth.”

Wonwoo smirks at you and returns to his position buried in your chest. He whispers as he drifts into his slumber.

“That’s my girl.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfics #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fanfics #seventeen fluff #jeon wonwoo smut #aaagustd.fics

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raven-dor · 7 months ago

Text

you are my moonlight

In which gwayne hightower meets his future wife, and his timing is most unfortunate

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, friends fighting, creepy viserys, horrible timing

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

🎶 : moonlight - ariana grande

AN: this could be read as a prequel to come back to me, but does NOT have to be read to understand any context!!

The tourney was in full swing, Y/N sitting eagerly on Rhaenyra’s left. The first two matches had finished rather similarly, with Sir Criston Cole being the winner. What the trio was actually waiting for was Prince Daemon’s match. It was all Rhaenyra had talked about for days and the fact that he’d gifted her a necklace of Valyrian steel, a rare and precious token that many in the realm could not afford. Of course, Rhaenyra and her family were the exception, as they were one of two of the only remaining High Valyrian houses left.

The knights of the realm lined up before the Prince, the Master of Revels, announced the man himself. “Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent.” The prince rode down the line, inspecting each knight briefly. He quickly settled on Alicent’s brother, Ser Gwayne. “For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King.”

Alicent grew restless, picking at the skin surrounding her fingers. Y/N wished she could comfort the auburn haired girl herself, but Rhaenyra grabbed her friend's hand quickly, stopping her from further injury. The two men lined up on their respective sides, racing towards each other.

Ser Gwayne released the first blow to the shock of the stands. Y/N beamed, though she did not know why. She hardly knew the knight, only hearing of him through Alicent when she recalled her childhood. The second round was quick, and at the last second, Prince Daemon lowered his joust in front of the horse's legs, causing it to topple over, taking Ser Gwayne with it. She gasped, a hand covering her mouth. She mumbled, knowing Rhaenyra would not stand for any untoward talk of her uncle. “By the seven.”

Ser Gwayne did not move, and Alicent grew more anxious by the second. Y/N reached her hand out, grasping Alicent's briefly. “He will be alright, Alicent, I know it.” The squires lifted him from the ground, walking him over to the medicine tent. He would be transported later to the sept, Y/N assumed. She would have to visit him and keep him company while he recovered.

Prince Daemon approached the Royal apartment, and Rhaenyra instantly approached her uncle. “Nicely done, Uncle.” Alicent and Y/N followed suit, still squeamish from the clearly immoral act.

“Thank you, Princess.” Daemon nodded his head. “Lady Y/N.”

“My Prince.”

He turned to Alicent. “Now, I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.” Alicent walked away, and Daemon smiled once more at the ward of the crown. “Next tourney, my lady, I shall ask you.”

Y/N laughed. “I look forward to that day, my Prince.”

Alicent returned swiftly, placing her favor on the Prince’s joust. “Good luck, my Prince.” The three girls sat down, waving at the crowd. The tourney had turned sour near after, with three fights breaking out, all ending in death. The knights, who had never seen battle, were bloodthirsty from what she could tell.

Y/N grew nauseous quickly, begging Rhaenyra for pardon so that she did not grow sick. Rushing out of the royal apartment, she decided to visit Ser Gwayne while she still had the nerve. The tent was quiet, with the exception of a few masters concocting ointments. Y/N peaked around the corner, coming face to face with Alicent’s brother. She curtsied, bowing her head. “My lord.” He tried to sit up, but she quickly stopped him. “Please, there is no need to further harm yourself.”

He smiled gratefully. “I must ask for your forgiveness, my lady; I do not remember meeting you.”

“I am Y/N of House Hawthorne. A ward of the crown and a friend of your sister’s.”

“A pleasure, my lady.” He tilted his head. “Has she sent you here then?”

“Alicent remains at the tourney. I-” She blushed, realizing how foolish it sounded. “I saw your joust, and I wanted to see that you were well. For Alicent’s sake.”

He nodded, a smirk growing on his lips. “For Alicent, of course. I must say, I have not heard of House Hawthorne.” She smiled, sitting beside him.

“We are located in the Westerlands, my lord, and are sworn to House Lannister.” She looked closer at his wound, wincing. “Your wound looks rather agitated still. Would you mind if I-”

He shook his head quickly. “Please. I would be most appreciative.”

She stood, sneaking a cloth and an herb she knew caused numbing. Wrapping it carefully, she dipped the cloth in water, tapping it lightly on his skin. “This should numb the pain, for now, my lord. I’ve known this herb to speed the healing process along quite nicely.”

He hummed, closing his eyes. “How did you become so well acquainted with such knowledge?”

“My mother was a trained healer, my lord.”

“Please call me Gwayne.” He peeked through his eyelids, giving her a kind smile. “You’ve all but earned it.”

“Very well, my lo- Gwayne.” She nodded. “If I can call you by your name, it is only fair that you call me by mine.”

He scoffed. “Hardly. That would be highly improper.”

She raised an eyebrow, still delicately tapping the cloth. “Opposed to what you have asked of me?”

He nodded, steadfast. “You are a lady. You should be addressed as such.”

Dipping the cloth back in the water, she laughed. “Hardly.”

“Using my own words against me.” He laughed back. “My, you are a wonder.”

“Y/N?”

She froze, turning around quickly. For some reason Y/N felt guilty, caught even. But seeing Alicent stand at the end of her brother’s bed, her face as pale as the winter snow, made the girl forget her worries. Y/N dropped the cloth in the bowl, rushing to Alicent’s side. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“The Queen. She’s-” Alicent leaned closer, whispering in her friend's ear. “She’s dead.” Y/N gasped.

“I-” Y/N turned back to Gwayne, waving quickly. “It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, my lord.” The two girls rushed off, leaving the knight thoroughly confused.

“Call me-” The girl was out of the tent before he could finish his sentence.

The funeral was a somber affair, as to be expected. Alicent and Y/N stood close by to Rhaenyra, staring at the covered bodies. Syrax, the Princess’s dragon, stood at the top of the hill, waiting for its orders. They stood in silence for the better part of an hour before Prince Daemon whispered in Rhaenyra’s ear, no doubt telling her that she would have to be the one to give the order.

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine as her friend stepped forward, catching a sob. “D-” Rhaenyra took a deep breath, commanding her dragon. “Dracarys.”

The yellow fury let out a great blast, effectively burning her mother and brother’s corpses. Rhaenyra turned away, unable to look at her deceased loved ones. Soon after, the crowd dissipated, leaving Rhaenyra, Y/N, and Alicent still standing by the sight. Y/N stayed back as Alicent approached their grieving friend.

“My lady.”

Y/N turned, smiling lightly at the Hightower. “My lord.”

“I believe last we met, I asked you to call me by my name.” He smirked. “Or am I mistaken?”

She laughed quietly. “I believe the herb I applied made you hallucinate, my lord. You never said anything of the sort.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you would never lie to me, so I shall take your word for it.”

Y/N looked back at her friends, her heart aching.

“She is an unlucky Princess,” Gwayne muttered.

“Yes, indeed. Losing a parent is never easy.”

“I am sorry.” Y/N turned back to the young knight, confusion etched on her face. “It is just- I assumed that with you being a ward of the crown-”

“You would be correct. But it has been so long, I hardly remember what it was like to have parents.”

He frowned. “That is horrible. I lost my own mother just a year ago.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she tried to ignore the shock that rang through her body. “It is never easy.”

She shook her head, placing a hand delicately over his. “You are, unfortunately, correct.”

A cough broke the pair apart, Y/N practically jumping at the interruption. “I could use some company on Dragonback.” Rhaenyra practically whispered. “Would you join me?”

“Of course.” She turned back to Gwayne, curtsying quickly. “My lord.”

The two girls walked up the hill, arm in arm. Alicent looked curiously at her brother. “What are you doing?”

He whipped around, laughing at his sister. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I only meant to say, you’ve taken a recent fascination in Y/N.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And your point?”

Alicent smiled, shaking her head. “Merely a statement, brother.”

The palace gardens were in full bloom this time of year, and Y/N always found comfort in the little corner with a quaint fountain and an outlook of the ocean. Rhaenyra and she frequented this spot often in their youth, and Y/N needed respite from the high tensions at court. She’d been stuck on the same page for what seemed like hours when a voice broke through her focus. “We meet again.” Gwayne bowed his head, grinning much too widely. “My lady.”

Y/N made no effort to stand, raising her eyebrows. “I am beginning to think, my lord, that you have been following me.”

“Not that I am…” He started, sitting at the end of the cushioned chair that she occupied. “But if I was, it might have something to do with the fact that you are still not calling me by my name.”

She laughed. “Is it that simple?”

He nodded. “Quite. But do not worry yourself, I’ll wait.” His eyes sparkled. “My lady.”

Y/N welcomed the challenge; she could sit there for hours, reading and ignoring the handsome knight. She glanced down at her book, ignoring his devilishly handsome smile. “You’ve read that page three times already.” She glared over the top, and he held his hands up in surrender, laughing. “Sorry.”

She looked back down, flipping the page to prove a point. He sighed, standing and walking over to the daisies that bordered the fountain. Picking the fullest one he could find, he stopped in front of the girl, holding it out. “May I?”

“I will not wilt at the sight of you because you are a lord.” She stood, closing her book. “I am not a flower like the thing you hold in your hand.”

He nodded. “You are not.” He raised the daisy, tucking it behind her ear. “You are however, as pretty as one.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she murmured. “You flatter me, my lord.”

“And why shouldn’t I? One should always flatter a beautiful woman when given the chance.” He smiled. “I believe calling me by my name shall suffice as thanks.”

She scoffed, smacking his chest lightly. “You are quite confident, Gwayne.”

“You’ll find-” He stopped, his smile brightening ten fold. “You said my name.”

Y/N nodded, walking away. “I did.”

He followed after, like a lost puppy. “What shall you do with the rest of your day, I wonder?”

She shrugged. “I do not know, but it will most certainly be out of your presence.”

He gasped, holding his chest. “You hurt my heart when you say such things.”

She laughed, stopping and pretending to check him over. “However will you survive?”

“I think it is terminal my lady.”

“And what affliction have you caught, Ser Gwayne?” Y/N forced a giggle back, trying her hardest to behave seriously.

“Lovesickness.” He sighed. “I’m afraid there is no cure.”

She stepped closer, a pink dusting her cheeks. “I shall mourn you then.”

“Well, I’m sure we could-”

“Y/N!”

Gwayne had never hated the Princess Rhaenyra more in his life than that moment. She was a generally tolerable girl, and a good friend to his sister, but in that moment she stood between him and you, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to leave. He stepped away from you hesitantly, bowing quickly. “Princess.”

The Targaryen made no effort to hide her humor at the situation. “I apoligize for the intrusion. Alicent and I were about to go to the Sept, and I did not want you to think we left you behind.”

Y/N smiled brightly, waving disapointedly to the knight. “Feel better, my lord.”

Alicent tilted her head, yelling back at her brother. “Better? Are you quite well brother?”

Y/N yet again found herself in the gardens, but this time she was here for the soul purpose of seeing Gwayne. She wore her best dress, had her maid’s put her hair up intricately, and even applied some rouge. Not too much, she wouldn’t want people to think the wrong thing. She was a lady, as Gwayne never ceased to remind her. Sitting carefully on the cushioned chair, she positioned herself towards the entrance, waiting for the familiar mop of auburn hair to peek through. She’d begun to think he wouldn’t show when his familiar tenor broke through the tranquil silence.

“My lady, I thought I would find you here.” She lowered the book, her stomach fluttering when his eyes widened slightly. “You look-”

“Gwayne, I-” They both stopped, laughing at their ill timed words. “It seems that we cannot find a moment of peace.”

He nodded, breaking the distance between them. “I have wanted to tell you something for quite some time now. I cannot seem to summon the words to leave me.” He laughed, but his nerves were evident. “It is just…”

“Yes?” Y/N smiled, hating how nauseous she felt.

“I wanted to say that-”

A loud sob rang through the garden, pulling them out of their haze. Gwayne drew his sword, in case the sob resulted in any trouble. Y/N tried to round the corner before him, but he shook his head, leading her carefully through the hedges.

“Rhaenyra?” Y/N quickly left her place behind Gwayne, rushing to her friends side. “Are you alright?”

“She’s betrayed me. I cannot- I can’t-” The princess looked up, glaring at the knight. “Can we go some place else?”

Y/N nodded, her face visibly disappointed. She walked Rhaenyra out of the gardens, sparing Gwayne one last look, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry.’

The castle had been throw off it’s axis by the sudden shift within it’s walls. Rhaenyra was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant Y/N was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant that the once close knit group of friends were no longer a trio.

It had been that way since they were children, almost ten years ago. Y/N not speaking to Alicent meant she could not speak to Gwayne, or so she assumed. She and Rhaenyra had not talked about it much since the day it was announced, always leaving a sour taste in the Princess’s mouth.

Y/N just wished Rhaenyra could forgive her friend for something she had no control over. The Royal Wedding was tonight, and Rhaenyra had insisted that Y/N walk in with the princess, even though she wasn’t family. When Y/N brought this up, her friend scolded her, saying that ‘My father has insisted, I’m afraid. You are his ward, and he has grown to think of you as his own.’

Now, she sat beside Rhaenyra while the ceremony took place, sneaking glances at the brides brother. Rhaenyra had picked out Y/N's dress herself, saying that she needed something worthy of a princess. She was not one to argue and let the Princess do whatever she wanted as long as she was distracted from the day at hand.

Arm in arm with the Princess, she dreaded when they finally reached the hall and had to congratulate the ‘happy’ couple. Poor Alicent, married at fifteen, was not something she wished on her worst enemy. Especially to a man twenty years your senior. The doors opened wide, the crowd quieting at the sight of the princess and her companion. Among that crowd was Gwayne, staring at her with desperate eyes.

Her cheeks turned pink, quickly breaking the contact. Chatter quickly filled the hall once more as Rhaenyra reached the top of the steps, curtsying quickly. “Congratulations, step-mother. Father.”

Y/N shivered. Rhaenyra's tone was as cold as the Wall. She wanted to curse her friend for making her go after that display. She sunk to the floor, bowing her head. “Many happy returns, My Queen, My King.”

Viserys smiled gratefully. “Thank you Y/N. You have been a loyal friend to my daughter and wife. I shall not forget it.”

The young girl nodded, equally disgusted and horrified at what the king had just said. Surely he realized how immoral it was. “Of course Your Grace. I live to serve and provide assistance to my Princess.”

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, sitting down beside Rhaenyra. “Could you at least have tried to be nice?”

“I was.” The princess raised an eyebrow, and Y/N almost laughed, realizing her friend was being serious.

“Of course. A jest, my lady.”

Rhaenyra laughed. “So formal.”

“We are at a wedding, Rhaenyra. It would be inappropriate for me to call you anything other than my lady, by the court's standards.”

“Well I am the princess, and I say you call me Rhaenyra.”

“Very well.” Y/N smiled, taking a large sip of her wine. “This will be an entertaining night.”

Besides the occasional snide comment thrown at the obviously overwhelmed bride, the night had been otherwise peaceful. Y/N tried her best to sway Rhaenyra from attacking the queen outright, and she’d been successful. So far. She’d been in the middle of listening to Rhaenyra’s adventure of gathering the stolen dragon egg from her uncle when a cough interrupted.

“Excuse me, Princess.” The pair turned around to see Gwayne staring at Y/N not Rhaenyra. Odd. He had addressed Rhaenyra, not her. “May I ask the Lady for a dance?”

Y/N widened her eyes, looking in between the two. She was sure Rhaenyra would say no or burst out in flames from having to talk to Alicent’s brother, but she simply nodded her head, going back to her meal. Gwayne extended his hand, leading her to the dancefloor. He whispered as they moved, keeping in mind the intruding ears that surrounded them. “I have missed your company, my lady.”

“I have missed yours as well.”

“I know much has happened since we last spoke, but it has not deterred me. If anything, it has made me realize that I cannot stand to be apart from you.” Her cheeks turned pink for the second time that night.

“You are very kind, Gwayne.”

“Yes, well, it is not hard when you are the one I compliment.” He shook his head. “I am returning to Old Town soon. In two weeks time, after my sister settles into her new life.”

Her heart fell, eyes watering. “I hope your journey is swift.” She gulped, mumbling. “I shall miss you in truth.”

He tilted his head, smiling. If she were not in a public place, she would admonish him for smiling at her pain. “What I mean to say is, I am infatuated with you. And I would like to seek your hand in marriage. From the king of course.”

She gasped, her eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?”

“I would like to marry you.” He spoke softly, now fully grinning. “If you would have me. You do not have to say yes, but I assure you, your affection for me will grow with time.”

“With time? Gwayne, I-” Y/N whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure she’d spoken. “I have already grown to admire you. Much more than a friend should. That is no concern of mine.”

“Ah.” The knight nodded. “Well, that settles it then.”

“Settles what?”

“We are to be married.”

“Yes, well…” She sighed. “You cannot propose to me at your sister’s wedding. It would be improper.”

“Damn impropriety.” He hissed, twirling you as the dance required. “Praytell, when would be a proper time then?”

“Any other day, my love.”

He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, her face growing red. “Gwayne people are looking.”

He seemingly did not hear her. “My love.”

“If you are going to tease me-”

“You called me, my love.”

“Gwayne…” She whined, gesturing to the prying eyes. “Can we please leave the floor? People will start to wonder…”

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

Thank the Seven the dance ended then. She bowed quickly. “Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Rushing back to her seat, she stared at the table, shock running through her veins.

“Did he propose then?”

Y/N whipped her head over, glaring at her friend. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Y/N, I’ve known he was going to propose since I saw him approach you at my mother’s funeral.”

“Rhaenyra, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t want you to feel betrayed. I had no intention of-”

“Do not apoligize to me.” She placed her hand in Y/N's. “You are my friend. I am happy for you, truly. He is a good man, he will treat you well. I know it.”

“I haven’t said yes, Rhaenyra.”

“Yet.” Her friend laughed. “You haven’t said yes, yet.”

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