#SWEET LORD I THOUGHT THAT THIS WOULD AT LEAST BE MORE EVEN

[sh1-n0bu]

bello, not sure if your taking requests so this will be my little thirst😼

was thinking about the elf bf and how intimacy is so foreign to him! How good your touches feel on his heated skin but what was this odd feeling? The coil in his tummy getting tighter with each grind of his hips on your thigh. The feeling felt so weird.. it feels good? is this good? he doesn’t want to disappoint you, or worse, scare you away! so he stops himself, letting his hips slow their grind for a moment. Inadvertently edging himself!

id like to imagine if he touched himself he would stop before cumming as well, he doesn’t know what it is! it feels so odd, makes him feel hot all over!

After he slows his grinds, you would be a bit confused…, does he not want to cum? or does he want to wait til your inside him? it takes a bit before you even think that maybe he hasn’t gotten that far before, the idea that you get to corrupt him making your face heat. Goodness he would be so pretty, teary eyes begging for you to slow down. Hips bruised from how rough you had grabbed him!

and to think, when he finally cums? its so overwhelming. heat spreading through his body, mind numbing as his legs twitch slightly? his pretty cock leaking onto his stomach? GOOD LORD I NEED IT💥💥💥

ty for listening nobu🫶🏼 we love you pls dont die

(low key my first ask, hope you enjoyed as i dont write much)

bellooooo, me is not taking requests for now but im still open for brainrots/thirsts!!!!

good lawdddd y’all gotta stop corrupting me more, my horny level can’t keep up guys. so i haven’t read the history of middle earth and all abt the biologies and cultures of the races tolkien created but i have come across multiple posts or points of people pointing out that sex and intimacy is an extremely important and raw thing. like how a constant friction creates fire over time and how that fire spreads into a wildfire that consumes everything, that’s how it is to elves and their culture. courting is important and it could go for a very long time until they decide to officially tie the knot. yet even after getting married, the consummation won’t happen in a while, first the couple must at least intertwine their fëa (soul) and so, the consummation act is more intense and powerful. its a very draining thing, when elves fuck, they fuck. long and hard, probably all night and into the next morning and even evening perhaps. they’re immortals, they have a monster amount of stamina

so with this info in mind, u gotta realize that elves do have knowledge of sex, how it usually feels etc and how near sacred it is to their kin. love is a fragile thing that will cross their eternal life only once and when they love, boy do they love. yet something tells me that despite having knowledge of sex, masturbation and other fleshly pleasures, they don’t participate in it much. its like they barely have anything that gets them pent up or sexually frustrated until they fall in love. and if it is a mortal? oh boy, they are confused and yearning. it’s like an instant neuron activation for them

the poor elf would barely know what to do with these thoughts and imaginations of you and him in such a compromising position. images of you guiding him through your first times together, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into his sensitive, pointy ear while he shrivels with embarrassing noises on your lap. oh how those calloused, hardened hands would feel when tightly fisting at his cock, draining him dry and milking every last drop of his cum. how those long, thick fingers would feel when thrusting inside him, scissoring him open and making him squeal. good god, don’t even get him started on the dirty images he thinks of you when he looks at those arms and thighs of yours, he’s imagining himself riding that muscle until he soils his pants or how your hands would push his head down to fully swallow your cock into his throat

would it taste as how it is described in the eroticas? would your precum be salty as your thick cock head pushes past his soft lips with your soothing voice instructing him to “open wide, puppy”? would you be so mean as to fist at his gorgeous locks and fuck into his mouth, use him to your own pleasure? he would be a good puppy for that, taking whatever you had to give him with red cheeks and hands obediently held on his lap. like a good puppy, he would open his mouth, tongue out like an eager little dog waiting for the taste of his favorite snack as you stroke your dick, a low moan falling as he finally taste your load shoot into his awaiting open jaws

and when his dirty thoughts are finally granted and turned into reality? he’s a goner. scrambling on his feet, tripping over his words, mind blanking as he feels your hands grope his ass over the linen of his pants. feeling like a young ellon rather than the full grown elf he is when your hands fiddle with the buckle of your belt, gulping down the saliva in his mouth as he sees your strap spring out of your undergarment

with a shaky hand, he would grip your strap, meagerly stroking his hands up and down with a stuttered “i-is this okay…?” oh dear stars, how badly you wanted to just fuck him dumb right then and there, seeing the cute pouting lips, big eyes staring at you for an approval as he weakly asks for your preference. how fast he is to crumble when he feels your rough hand wrap around both your and his own dicks, stroking them together with a slow pace, occasionally spitting on them. his mind was already blanking, and he was sure that he had already came into your hand the moment you touched him

“w-wait a—annh!! mmh uhnng♡︎ h-hold owwnn♡︎ i ju-ust c-came! i came alreanngh already...♡︎!!” the poor elf weakly cried out, falling back into the sea of soft pillows as his hands shook by his chest, where he held them close to himself. he was sure you could hear the rapid beating of his heart, embarrassed by the noises he kept letting out despite biting down on his lips to shut himself up. poor sweetheart, doesn’t even know that the thing dripping down onto his stomach is his pre-ejaculation and not his cum! “shh shh… it’s alright, darling. i’ll be sure to teach you all about the fleshly pleasures tonight♡︎” and you were going to absolutely ruin him

sweet virgin elf who crumples into a heap of mess after experiencing his first cum. moaning and even squealing as his hands flailed around, unable to choose whether to hold onto your arms or to claw at the blanket beneath himself as you continue to keep going despite his whines of having already came. you were so mean, quickening your pace and even squeezing your dicks together, he was so sure that he blacked out when you first did that or swiped a thumb over his oozing tip. arms covering his face to hide the flush of his cheeks and the drooped ears, crying out to you that he was going to die. so dramatic

“sh-stooohpp..! stop stopstopstop—stop it♡︎♡︎! i came!! i nyaagh ungh guhc—came! i alreaawdyy camee…♥︎!” the elf cried out, already slurring his words together as his hips grind back and forth on the bed until your free hand comes up to keep it down in place with a bruising grip. your sweet boyfriend could only cry out, a broken whine falling as he shook his head, looking down at your hand that held down his hip before shifting to look at where your cocks were touching. held together in a tight fist, your hand already soiled with his cute load of precum as well as his stomach. he never noticed it before but gods, your strap was dwarfing him in size and girth. he would surely die if he takes that big thing inside himself!

but when you don’t seem to hear his pleas and only continue to fuck your strap and his weeping cock together in a faster pace into the tight grip of your fist — even rocking your hips forward too! — the poor elf was sure he was going to see the bright skies of valinor that night. whimpers turning into broken wails, punched out sobs of your name falling out of his now bloodied lips as he covers his face with his hands. he could feel the hot tears that fell from his eyes, wiping them away with cute pathetic sniffles as you tighten your fist just at the heads. another squeeze and one more before he was crying out your name in a shrill scream, his legs around your hips tightening, shaking even, as he finally feels himself cumming alongside you. translucent colored seeds mixing together, dirtying his stomach and even shooting up to his heaving chest

“…s-shoo goowdd… aaanh hhagc—♡︎ c-cum..♥︎ cumming ’gainn hhgaaa♥︎ ughk haahg [n-naawme], [namenamenamena—]♥︎♥︎” the elf sobbed out weakly, a putty in your hands as he feels his cock slowly grow flaccid. if it weren’t for the rough pads of your fingers tracing circles around his clenching rim and the feeling of your clean hand push away his hands from his face, your elf bf would have most definitely been sure that he had died and was re-embodied. yet despite the fuzziness in his brain and the way his blood seemed to circulate too quickly through his veins, his body unconsciously pressed itself against you, against your fingers as if seeking for more pleasure

thats enough thirsting yall, go do yalls assignments

[hassiegfrieddoneanythingwrong]

There's Been A Murder On Set

[peachysunrize]

Tryst ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond walks in on his newly wedded wife changing, surely she is not as temperate as her father when she catches him eyeing her, is she?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, kind of enemies to lovers, VELARYON READER!!, reader has silver hair, virging!reader, fingering, reader is angry lol, breeding, lots of scratching and biting, porn no plot! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: I missed my pwp era so here is a short rough smut with our prince Aemond! Missed being unhinged, so here is a fiery reader who is just as crazy as Aemond🤭 Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕

Marrying Daemon’s oldest daughter was not something Aemond could ever imagine, especially since it was his uncle’s idea to offer your hand in marriage; perhaps you were too much of a rebel to be kept on Dragonstone.

He remembers how much you glared at him the day he and his family came to that old wet castle to visit you and your family, and to settle for an agreement so the qualms between the families would vanish — or at least try to make amends somehow.

What he did not expect was for you to be utterly disgusted and angry at him, to the point when he had to show others you were officially courting, you did not even spare him a glance.

He despises you just as much if not more.

But he does not know why he is walking towards your chambers after the supper which you left in a really angry manner, leaving everyone stunned but him. 

It is late as he walks through the dimly lit hallways of the Red Keep, an hour or two before the dead of the night, and his intentions are not clear enough to see why he is taking routes to where your chambers are. If only he knew why, he would try to avoid it at all costs.

He walks with his hands held behind him, chin up with his good eye scanning every tapestry on the wall, every knight who moves past him, in hopes of finding an answer for his intentions.

Your chambers are not much far from his, it would be too scandalous for husband and wife to be sleeping in different rooms, especially since your marriage happens to be the talk of every gathering and whispers of the court — not to anyone’s surprise, Daemon’s oldest daughter and Aemond Targaryen are a match of flames, burning each other until there is nothing but ashes — but you do not care if you are the subject of laughter among these lowly lords and ladies.

Aemond sighs, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, trying to keep himself grounded as he walks towards the hallway that ends with a door to your room. He narrows his eye when he finds your knights nowhere to be seen, assuming you must have dismissed them yourself.

He reaches to knock on your door, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down before he rests his hand on the door, watching it slowly crack open. Why would you leave your door unguarded and open? Were you waiting for someone? Were you waiting for him?

With a curious look, he slowly pushes the door open, not wishing to startle you even though he could care less if you jump and scream out of fear, but he gives you this one privilege at least. He winces when the door makes a cracking sound, but he relaxes when he does not hear a sound of displeasure or concern coming from inside — in fact, the low humming catches him by surprise, making his ears perk at the sweet sound of melody filling your room.

When he has the door open enough to peek inside the room, he is taken aback by seeing you slowly disrobing, dropping layer after layer of your clothing on the ground, revealing your bare back to him. 

His lips part in shock, sighing as he takes the newly exposed skin in, watching you drop your clothes on the ground, walking around your nightshift to grab your hairbrush.

Aemond is lost; seeing his wife mildly nude for the first time since he said his vows was something he did not really think about. Every thought he has had about you was always filled with anger, rage, and hatred, but deep inside, he could feel his feelings bubbling with anticipation for something far beyond whatever he had already experienced.

And now, seeing you brush your silver locks with grace makes his chest tighten, but your bare back has his mind turn cloudy and sinful, leaving him breathless as he feels his leather pants tighten.

Subconsciously, he pushes the door open a bit more forcefully than he intended to, making a loud crying sound. He freezes, his eye widening when you scream and turn around, throwing the brush at his face, but he dodges in time, watching in horror as the brush flies to the hallway.

“What is your fucking business here?” You yell at him, reaching for one of your jewelry boxes, holding it up to threaten him with another attack, “Speak, now!”

“I…I—fucking gods, woman!”

He says it with gritted teeth, moving his head quickly when you throw the box at him, hitting the door as he closes it so none of your belongings get lost.

“Were you watching me?” You ask, laughing in disbelief as you walk quickly to grab the nearest book on your desk, throwing at him again, “I reckoned your brother was the pervert one, but it appears it runs in the family!”

“Stop this madness!” He yells back, shielding his face with his arms as the book comes close to hit him in the cheek, “I was not watching, do not think yourself so appealing—“

“You do not find your wife appealing?” You point the candle holder you grab in the blink of an eye towards Aemond, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a step closer, “You come into my room, watching me peel off my clothes until I am naked just to say you do not find me appealing?”

“I did not say that, wife—“ he holds his hands up, slowly backing away from you, his back hitting the wall with a soft ‘thud’ before he resumes talking, “I was merely disagreeing about how I am of a sick mind, I am not, I wished to talk to you—“

“Nonsense!” You step closer, holding the sharp candle holder in his direction, “You said it, I heard it with my own ears! I despise you for being here, for being my husband, for trying to break me while it is you who does not wish to warm my bed.”

“Drop that thing, wife,” he sighs, gently trying to reach and grab it from you but you take a step back suddenly, glaring at him, “Don’t force me to come here and take it from you.”

“I would like to see you try, husband,” Venom drips from your words while you stare daggers at him, your grip tightening around the candle holder “Get out of my room!”

“You are my wife, I will do as I please,” his tone matches yours as he stares back at you, his eye darkening at the sight of your chest visible underneath your thin nightshift, “If I wish to stay here, I will—“

“Get. Out!” 

Before you are given the chance to throw what you are holding at him, Aemond grabs you by your wrist, pulling you closer as he switches your positions and pushes you against the wall; one knee between your legs and both of his hands pinning your wrists to the wall with one next to your head and the other above it.

“Why must you be so difficult?” He whispers, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at you, his fingers tightening around your wrists until you whimper and drop the candle holder, chest heaving as you look up at him.

“I am a reflection of how you treat me,” you spit the words out, craning your neck to lean closer to him, your nose brushing against his, “I despise you for the air you breathe, for the wine you drink—“

“And you do believe that I don’t seeth every time I am reminded that you are my wife?” He pushes his nose against yours forcefully, keeping your head locked against his and the wall with his forehead on yours, his hot breath mingling with your quick panting, “I wish to tear through everything that reminds me of you and your father—“

“Then do, coward,” you cut him off, your eyes falling down to his pink lips, wiggling against his hold, trying to free yourself, “Make me hate you more than I already do.”

And he does; his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he lets go of one of your wrists to pull you in closer by your waist, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your hand goes to his soft silky hair, pulling on the hair tie roughly as you kiss him back, threading your fingers through his locks, tugging at the root of his hair while he bites down your lips, freeing your other wrist too.

Aemond’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his tongue pushing past your lips so he can taste you thoroughly. He bucks his knee to your clothed core, encouraging you to go ahead and take your fill, rock your hatred into oblivion.

You whine as you slowly grind down on him, your lips falling apart as you break the kiss to gasp for air, your hand tugging at his hair while your other hand goes to his doublet, undoing it quickly while your hips pick up the pace.

“Go on, wife,” he whispers, hand letting go of your jaw before he reaches down to rub your heat over your underwear, letting out a shaky sigh when he finds a wet spot on the fabric, “So much for hating me, your cunt is betraying you.”

“Fuck you—“

“Fuck me indeed,” he pushes your underwear aside, swiping his fingers through your wet folds, enjoying the broken whine you let out.

He leans down, prepping kisses and bites along your neck, sinking his teeth a bit too hard when you push his doublet down and dig your nails in his pecks. Aemond’s thumb circles your pearl, making you tremble under his touch as he makes your essence drip on your inner thighs.

You throw your head back when he gently prods your entrance with one finger, easing the digit inside your warm walls with ease because of your wetness. He hums against your collarbone, enjoying how slowly you are losing yourself in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms — although the scratches you are leaving on his chest through his undershirt are the opposite of what he thinks.

He adds another finger, scissoring you open as he pumps his finger in and out of you, going in knuckles deep while he curves his digits, enjoying how your face twists with pleasure and a fit of anger that fuels because of how it is him who is giving you this pleasure.

“I need more,” you whine, one hand coming down to rest against his wrist, keeping his hand there as he thrusts his fingers faster, the lewd sound of squelching echoing in the room.

“I will give you more,” he goes faster when he notices how your eyes drop shut and your legs start to shake around his hand, your walls gripping his fingers for dear life, “I will make you fall in love with me.”

“Impossible,” you gasp, toes curling as you shake and peak around his fingers, throwing your head back against the wall while you gush and release all over his hand, “You are unlovable.”

“As I said before…” he whispers before he pulls his fingers out, wiping your wetness on your nightshift before he grabs the side of the fabric and tears it in half, leaving your body bare to his eye, “Your body betrays you, wife.”

You look at him in shock, covering your breasts with your arms, but Aemond has none of it; he slaps your arms away, taking off his undershirt, revealing his smooth chest before he grabs you by the nape and pulls you in for another kiss.

Your lips crash into each other, your hands tugging and pulling on the other’s hair while Aemond leads you to the bed, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes. 

He drops you on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you to meet you halfway for another passionate kiss, his hips pressing against the side of your hip before you spread your legs for him, pulling him even closer.

You reach between your bodies to palm the growing tent in his pants, squeezing and relishing in the sound he makes in your mouth before you urge him to push his pants and breeches down enough to free his cock.

You loathe how pretty he is, how pretty his cock is. You despise him for being the definition of Targaryen beauty, but now, the man you hate the most, the man who you have the spiteful pleasure of calling your husband, is about to take you for the first time.

He knows, of course he knows, because the queen would never choose anything less than a noble lady for her precious son; so he goes gently after he strokes his length a few times, pumping it to full hardness. He guides the red weeping head of his dick to your entrance, pushing in slowly, his hands going to your hips as he sits up on his knees so he can watch as he breaches past your muscles, the tip of his cock disappearing inside you.

You writhe beneath him, fisting the bed sheets as you nod and wait for him to go all the way in, pushing you to your limits as the stretch begins to be a bit painful, but he brings your hands to his chest, urging you to scratch him as hard as you wish when you feel any discomfort.

Aemond thrusts himself inside you completely, groaning at the tight feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice, holding onto him until he has carved the shape of his cock within your walls.

He drops forward, holding himself up by his hands on each side of your face before he starts hammering himself inside you, making you gasp and moan incoherent words underneath him — the princeling in him only lasted for a few minutes, and now, he is just the Aemond who finds you annoying and miserable, fucking you as you are; the wife he hates, the woman he craves.

The rise and fall of your chest grows faster, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers leaving red angry marks all over his shoulder blades and back while you lock your legs around his slim waist, keeping him caged against you.

There are no words exchanged, there is no need to when both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, biting each other until there are visible signs of your tryst for the court to see on the next morrow.

He feels your walls clenching around his girth, bringing both his and your high closer. One of his hands reaches down, circling your nub so you fall over the edge of bliss, euphoria rushing through your body.

He follows closely, hammering his cock deep inside you until he buries himself into you and paints your walls with his seed, his eye wide open as he stares down at you, lips parted and pupil blown.

He pulls out of you after his body stops shaking, dropping down on the bed next to you as he tries to catch his breath, his arm lying limp on top of your body.

You feel his cum dribbling out of you, alerting you of what you have done. Suddenly, a wave of hatred crashes into your head, and you turn your head to look at his peaceful face before you start shoving him down your bed.

“Get out, arsehol!” You pull the covers on you, keeping them secure against your chest as you try to shove him down on the floor, “Get out of my room!”

“Easy, woman,” he throws his hands up in defeat, fixing his pants before he grabs his undershirt and puts it on, “I do not intend to stay here longer than needed.”

“I hate you,” you say, pushing him out of the door with force, frowning when he laughs into your face but you do not wait for him to reply before you slam the door shut.

But you hear him from the other side of the door.

“Mutual feelings, wife.”

[solbaby7]

En Cognito

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, misogyny, best friends that wanna fuck, sexual tension, possible violence, jealous!az, slowly shifting into slight darker content 👀 hope no one notices

summary: Going undercover alters your appearance more than your friends ever anticipated—now Azriel can’t tear his eyes away.

—

“Stop touching and just relax.”

“I can’t,” You squirm under Mor’s touch. Two hours spent around the city spending obscene amounts of money on a dress and heels that you were only going to wear once. Nimble fingers part through your hair, undoing paper curls and oiled fingers run through the ends of silky strands. Everything is too tight—too exposed. “I am deeply uncomfortable.” Your arms cross behind your back, fingers awkwardly intertwining to create some sort of barrier between your ass and the possibility of peering eyes.

The High Lords cousin doesn’t take it personally, quickly finishing final touches on your makeup and the person you see in the mirror is so far off from what you were used to that it makes your breath catch. “It’s perfect. You’re going to be perfect—they won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you.”

Your hand shakes at the thought, painted fingers curling around the glass of champagne and knocking the whole thing back in one go.

“You’re going to ruin your lipstick.”

“If I don’t have at least two more of those, I’m going to ruin this whole night.” It felt weird having your hair down like this and your fingers twitch to tuck it back into your usual bun but Mor keeps throwing looks over her shoulder while she refills both glasses. Just daring you to fuck up her work.

After the second glass your brain finally stops hyper-fixating on the fact that you can actually feel the bare skin of your thighs touching with each step, an annoying change from the leathers that usually prevented things like this. “It’s just a few dances. Bat your lashes and smile pretty and the intel will come to you, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think one dress will get me all of that.”

“It’s not about the dress.” She’s rubbing oil into your skin that makes it shine when the light touches, the sweet smell lingering long after you’ve left the room and the whole walk downstairs is filled with gentle reminders on everything she’d been teaching you all week. “It’s you in it. Seriously, where have you been hiding all of this ass?” You swat her hands away, grateful that the others had left far earlier. You could just hear Az and Cass now, eyes rolling at the very thought of their relentless teasing—this would be the topic of many jokes for weeks to come.

Slight sway of your hips, soften the length of your spine, shoulders back and head high. Confident steps even though the heels were fucking killer; five inches of added height and you’d still feel small in a room crawling with fully grown men. The champagne glass is finished and refilled once more before you’re tugged away to the balcony and past the wards.

Usually, winnowing was calming but for some reason, this time it had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling at attention from all the eyes that slid in your direction. “That was subtle.”

“We’re late,” Mor mutters through her teeth, flashing a less than sweet smile to the males undressing her with their eyes. Typical for Hewn City but still fucking disgusting. “I figured a flashy entrance would distract from that. Now, be nice.”

Easier said than done with anxiety beginning to ebb forth, fingers flexing and nails running over the details of your dress. The words from earlier repeat in your mind and instantly your spine straightens, chin raising and the added swish to your hips is enough to attract the attention of any male within a five mile radius.

It’s customary to greet the High Lord and Lady, your heels clicking and face aloof when swiftly curtsying into a respectful bow. “Rise,” Feyre commands, voice strong and filled with unquestionable power but you could see that look in her eye—familial fondness creeping at the edges of blue irises and you’re quick to appear anxious. Less comfortable when surrounded by people you’d known longer than you could put into words. “Join the others, there’s plenty of food and drink for everyone.”

Better judgement screams in your mind not to look just a little to the right; your peripheral catching onto the faint glow of cobalt blue but your eyes slide over without permission.

Azriel looks godly standing guard near his High Lord and Lady. He’s handsomely dressed in one of his fancier pairs of fighting leathers, lethally strapped to the nines with daggers at his thighs, switchblades tucked in pockets or strapped to his ankles and swords that cross at his back, right between his wings.

Like an angel of death; just as tempting as he was deadly.

You look away before he can catch you admiring the tailored cut of sturdy, dark tactical gear stretching across his muscles. Too quickly for you to notice the way he double takes, eyes widening a fraction and stance stiffening ever so slightly when he recognizes the slope of your nose and shape of your mouth glistening in gloss. He nearly chokes on his breath at the accentuation of your figure, curves on full display in a complete juxtaposition to your usual attire and his stare follows as you disappear into the crowd of bodies.

He can’t leave his spot but it doesn’t stop him from sending out his own personal surveillance to keep tabs on the way you shift about the room.

Everywhere you move, eyes follow.

Males halt their conversation, sipping on whiskey so expensive that it probably equates to a months worth of rent but judging by their tailored suits and gold cuff-links—money was the least of their problems.

“A drink, miss?”

Relief works its way into your form when you accept, thanking the waitstaff politely while acting your ass off with the fluttery lashes and doe eyes. It paints a perfect little picture—entrapping susceptible males with overly inflated egos and misogynistic thought processes. You’re almost a little too deep in the facade, aimlessly wandering through the sea of bodies with ears specially attuned to every conversation; sifting through the meaninglessness in order to catch little pieces of a bigger picture that had yet to be deciphered.

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody.” The response is instinctive, a second nature that’s easily smoothed over with a demure smile.

Even you could admit the male was handsome, all solid muscle and alluringly ragged edges. His suit is immaculate, fitting the strong line of his shoulders to perfection as the halfway unbuttoned tunic beneath broadcasts the tawny tones of his chest loitered with inky tattoos. Dark hair frames his face, a silver scar cutting through the thick of one brow and yet its completely overshadowed when in the midst of such beauty. “You certainly don’t look like ‘nobody’ to me.”

Warmth spreads at the nape of your neck, your body affected by the soulful bass of his voice and for a fleeting moment you have to remind yourself of the task at hand.

The male doesn’t give time for you to come up with another one of your carefully curated lies. A hand is extended your way, the faelight above catching on the masculine rings adorning his pinky and pointer fingers when your hand is taken in his own.

It’s almost embarrassing—the spectacle he makes in spinning you slow, taking in every detail with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Thank the Mother for Mor and her attention to detail, picking out the perfect dress and glimmering diamonds that distracted from the true soldier that burned in your soul, a characteristic that had been exercised for decades enduring Cassian and Azriel’s relentless training regiment.

“Whoever you’ve come with will never recover from the loss he’s about to take,” The males eyes are ravenous, that previously bored darkness finally flickering with life beneath the surface.

The surprised laugh you let out is genuine, a shocked bark of a thing that’s anything but ladylike but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You have a very high sense of self in assuming I’d go anywhere with you considering I don’t have the slightest clue on who you are.”

Another lie added to the steadily growing web. You’d been briefed on every single person in this room, memorized their faces and obsessively studying their lives and known connections until the only thing left was to figure out who possessed the most valuable information. “Who better to trust than Stewards right hand?” Feminine wonder masks the satisfaction of such an easily attained lead and suspicion begins to grow in your gut. Maybe it’s not as well concealed as you’d assumed because the cockiness is dialed down multiple levels and the smile he wears is far more flattering than that entitled smirk. “Call me Atlas.”

Music filters throughout the space and steadily the sea of bodies becomes more uniform, paired up couples shifting about the room with a hardened grace that allowed their movements to appear elegant, even if their faces were stripped of any semblance of emotion. “Atlas,” The name is foreign on your tongue but not entirely unpleasant. “Have any clue where they keep their stash?”

A cheshire grin accompanies the muscular bicep he holds out in offering. “Allow me to lead the way.”

Everything goes as planned, a knowing nod to Mor, a giddy smile when the Stewards second hand tugs you down a hallway, bypassing stationed guards and passing over a small pouch of silver coins to the scrawny soldier standing in front of a thick set of double doors. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted the good stuff. Kier keeps them in his office.” High heels click against the polished floors, taking in the layered colors of obsidian, onyx and oblivion. It’s typical for a male, simple, with just enough overindulgence to make your eyes roll.

“Are we supposed to be in here?”

Atlas moves across the space with ease, unlatching the lock on the liquor cabinet and collecting two glasses and a thick crystal decanter filled halfway with a deep amber liquid. “Are you going to tell on me?”

Every movement you make hold more grace than you’ve mustered up in a century. Femininity oozes from every pore and it’s intoxicating—this males reaction to the slightest graze of your nails against his fingers. It plants a terrifying seed, one eager to learn exactly how far you could take it. How many other people would react the same way?

Your mind takes a turn, sliding a key into a door you’d long since boarded up.

And you can’t help but wonder if the simple seduction would work on Azriel too.

“I can be convinced to keep a secret,” Magic must be used to keep the liquor chilled because the crystal is cold to the touch. “If you show me the balcony too.”

Atlas nods slowly, taking your words entirely different than intended but you don’t bother correcting it. Not when he strides over to the doors with such ease, pulling out a personal set of keys and unlocking them as if he’d done so a million times before.

You supposed Hewn was a sight to behold from this angle, high heels click against the concrete, bracelets clinging against the iron railings as you peer over. In its own, hauntingly beautiful way; a darker part of you could find the appeal if you overlooked the horrors that took place there.

“Now, I’ve snuck you out here, breaking all kinds of rules and jeopardizing my job for you.” If it’s the truth, Atlas has a hell of a way of making it seem nonchalant—every word laced in an amusement you can’t quite place but it’d be lying to say you didn’t find it slightly charming. “Will you finally tell me your name?”

There’s a mischievous sparkle in your eye, a taunting elongation of one leg, the shiny curve of your high heel dragging gently against his ankle. You almost answer when your eyes catch on the shadows in the corner, their color just a little too dark, their ebb just a little too sentient. Of course, Azriel would follow you out there when he believed you were taking too long, playing the perfect position of Night Court security when urging guests away from restricted areas but jealously slips its way into his tone when he finds you and Atlas on the balcony standing a little too close to be considered friendly. “You aren’t supposed to be out here.”

The male with you doesn’t seem the slightest bit deterred, cockily tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear while the other hand fishes out a small pouch full of gold coins from his suit pocket and rudely stuffs it into Azriel’s chest without even looking. “How about you go back inside and give us a few uninterrupted moments to get to know each other?”

Azriel’s brow raises, wings bristling when tracking the two fingers Atlas has grazing down your cheekbone and his tone is eerily even when responding. “Did you come alone tonight?”

“Yes,” Atlas retorts none the wiser, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I have no intentions on leaving how I came.”

“Is that so?” It happens so quickly. Azriel snatching the male away from you, his fist darting out and connecting with Atlas’ jaw with such precision that the impact sends the Steward’s second in command unconscious on the cobblestone. “Mission’s over,” Azriel all but growls, his grip possessive when pulling you in. “We’re leaving.”

“Azriel,” Your eyes widen, glass slipping from your grasp as your brain moves like molasses when trying to comprehend what you’d witnessed. It doesn't bother Az though, his hand a firm weight at the dip of your back, pinky finger just grazing the curve of your ass with every step. “I wasn’t even close to being finished—he was about to give me everything.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of what he was about to give you.”

He looks like he’s readying himself to winnow the two of you out of there, thick clouds of shadows materializing around his threatening frame but something forces him to decide against it. His jaw clenches, stance rigid and voice clipped when telling you to 'come this way', taking a sharp left turn before shoving your body inside. “Azriel, what the hell?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” The door slams behind him, lock twisting with a resounding click but none of that distracts from the downright murder-strut Azriel adopts when stalking towards you. Your heart hammers against your chest, heels scraping against the polished floors in your attempts to create space but the male before you eats it all up. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?”

The laugh that pushes free is breathless; taken aback. “What?"

A war wages in Azriel's mind as he strains to contain the small semblance of control he's ever been able to gather in your presence. You make him crazy; shove him out of his comfort zone and force him to take risks that his skillful training strictly rejects. You're an enigma, a flame that burns but also provides warmth to those who handle you with care. “I thought you in your leathers was sin.”

You swallow thickly as your body responds to the drop in his voice; the gravel that positively rattles his tone and morphs that strong soldier boy into a predator of a man with ravenous wants and needs. Rapturous desires that plagues his thoughts, tainting his actions and lingering in the void of his shadows with intent to kill.

Shock blends into need as Azriel backs you against the desk, the rigid line of his cock straining against the stitching of his leathers. It digs against your belly; teasing, taunting you with the possibilities. “But then you come waltzing in wearing this dress—cauldron boil me—are you even wearing any underwear?”

"I couldn't," A blush burns at your cheeks, every inch of you sparking to life under his stare. "Mor said panty lines are tacky."

"Then it'd be best you refrain from telling her what happens in here because I'm about to make you sound fucking garish." Hips buck involuntarily, a helpless rut whittling away at whatever self-control Azriel has left. It’s clearly not much because soon his lips are too preoccupied with learning yours and strong hands are busy familiarizing themselves with the curves you usually kept so carefully concealed. Eager fingers run over the tight fabric around your waist, gliding over the length of your stomach and cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs grazing over peaked nipples. Mapping the canvas of your body like a man starved.

Denying his touch is out of the question; at least that’s what your body decides as it leans into the heavy drag of his weight. For once, you lean into the girlish nature of allowing the male to lead—to comply as Azriel guides your face to his own. Indulging in feverish kisses because he started it and it was only fair for you to finish it.

The lines of friendship blur with his tongue in your mouth and you’re too drunk on the scent of his cologne to question what any of this could mean afterwards. What chaos could ensue from helping him hike the hem of your dress up, up, up with a needy groan. “Can’t believe you hid all of this from me,” Azriel all but whines, golden irises gobbling up the fullness of your thighs. Pupils dilate at your lack of undergarments; the thin leather thigh holsters strapped tight against the muscle of your legs and inky shadows swipe at the weapon secured there—stealing it as a prize.

“Can you blame me?” The words come out breathy, palms dragging along rigid muscle hidden beneath his clothes, nails seconds away from slicing through the offending fabric for more of his warmth, for more of him in general because this male was a thing of dreams. Of carefully curated fantasies that females with far more time on their hands wrote about in their journals. “How would I get any work done with everyone staring at my ass?”

His touch is bold, two fingers sliding between your thighs to slide along the slick that collects between lower lips. "That won't be an issue for you anymore." A gasp forces your lips to part when he circles around your clit, feeling the area around it without actually giving what you want. Azriel likes it more that way; enjoys the ways your legs tremble and chest heaves. "You'll find that people don't stare much at the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," You struggle to verbalize the thought fully when he finally applies the right amount of pressure to your neglected bundle of nerves. Quick little circles under the calloused drag of two fingers works a strangled moan free. "I don't belong to anyone," You try to speak it aloud so the point comes across but all that's leaving your lips is pathetic pants of yesyesyes and pretty pleas for moremoremore.

He’s cruel in his torture, pulling his hands away seconds before release can wash over you and a cocky smirk etches in the corner of his mouth. It’s knowing; cognizant of the fact that your orgasm lies in the palm of his hands, rests under the willful press of his fingertips.

“Please?” You whisper, voice cracked; broken, ruined from nothing but his hands alone and you still hadn’t cum yet. Every nerve burns, toes curling, stomach clenching and pussy pulsing around nothing as your hips careen forward—searching for the sweet friction that Azriel just knows how to provide.

You thank the Mother for his lack of revolve, for it had to be her mercy that allows his stubborn defenses to crumble so quickly. To give in and offer everything you’d been begging for . He’s not kind about it; doesn’t coax the orgasm forward but yanks at it like a dog on a leash. It’s claiming the way he watches you through your high, drinking up your sounds and committing the slick sight of you to memory.

He doesn’t even give you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tugging his leathers down his hips, thick fabric bunching at his thighs. “Save your pretty pleas for soft pricks like Aaron.”

“Atlas.”

Azriel’s brow raises, a subtle twitch of muscle that shouldn’t be as threatening as it is. Or at least it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t followed by the ominous drag of his cock through your folds, the heavy weight of him coating itself in your slick.

You know he wants to say something. It’s hanging off the tip of his tongue; some venomous comment fueled by raw, unbridled jealousy. Some sick part of you wants him to say it—maybe then he’ll admit to his feelings; confessing to the tension that permeates when the two of you enter a room or share a joke or brush arms or get a little too heated during training.

“I believe your role tonight is soft and demure,” His voice is deceptively even considering the rough jolt of his hips that bullies the blunt head of his cock deep inside of you. “So don’t use that mouth of yours unless it’s to tell me how good I fucking feel.”

Az holds true to his word because every time your lips part to make some stupid comment for him to slow down or loosen his grip on your hips because you’re sure bruises are forming—Azriel just fucks you harder. Presses the palm of his hand against your mouth to muffle the moans, to seize the symphony of sighs that gasp free when he treats sensitive spots with such aggression.

He can feel your legs shaking, tuts his tongue in hushed amusement when he catches you trying to inch away; searching for a spare second to catch your breath. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

No mercy is shown for your choked breaths when Azriel’s focused on the ripple of your ass with each thrust. “It’s so fucking deep,” The words come out garbled against his palm and it’s only then that he pulls it away, fingers ghosting over the swollen plush of your lips in silent appreciation.

“Filthy pussy’s just sucking me right in,” Your cheeks burn, lids fluttering closed as you try not to acknowledge the fact that his voice and those syllables strung together is just enough to have you clenching around him; slick gushing down the length of him and dripping from the heavy weight of his balls.

A sharp smack of his hand against the fat of your ass; the perfect pinch of pain to accompany the mind-numbing pleasure that wracks through every nerve. “Azriel!”

“Now you remember my name?” His tone is pure venom, every rational part of his brain clouded with envy, leaking with a bitterness that scrunches up the perfect lines of his face. “Can’t believe you were about to give this up to that fucking ingrate.” Cool air breezes against your sex as your ass is lewdly pried open enough for Azriel to stare at the sopping wet mess you make. “Not after I’ve been waiting so godsdammed long for this—for you.” A creamy ring of your cum catches at the base of his cock; cunt clenching over and over and over as he works you through orgasm after orgasm.

Mumbled praises and keening moans are your only reply, knees bending for better leverage as you lean back into the pace he sets. Screw the mission—fuck the objective. Damn anything that wasn’t Azriel and his cock and those perfect hands that claims sweat-slicked skin. You don’t even fight it, succumbing to the pleasure and the male administering it. “Right there!” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice, ears focused on Azriel’s grunts and whispered praises. “So good. So good—fuck!”

“This is mine?” It’s not really a question. That much you know when you feel the pressure of his thumb rubbing circles along your clit. “Say it so I can hear you.”

“Yes!” Eyes roll. Words slur. Fists clutch at polished wood; manicured nails leaving indents in mahogany. “Belongs to you.”

Azriel’s too good—too precise; too determined. Forces him to rut deep and carve out a place inside of you with his name branded on it. Thick ropes of his seed paints quivering walls; claiming with a kind of possessiveness that has your toes permanently curled in your heels.

There’s barely enough time to catch a proper breath or situate your dress when thick wad of papers are smacked before you like a godsdammed gift, all neatly stacked and basically tied with a fucking shadowy bow. All the intel you’d bitched at Az for compromising—written right there in plain sight. “Those are the—you…thank you.”

“Don’t get all sweet for me now,” Azriel muses darkly, affectionately patting at your cheek as if you were some drowsy pup, his head nodding in gesture to the neat stack of stolen papers on the table while swiftly tucking himself away and redoing the ties on his breeches. “I’m only covering for your pretty ass so I can ruin it later.���

[narfin-frood]

i've been itching to share my swap au since i thought it up, but i think i now finally have an actual baseline to introduce it with!!

the idea isn't that it's a personality swap, but a role swap, with wander and sylvia as antagonists and hater and peepers as the protags, and i have a whole lot to say about it so im gonna go ahead and infodump below the cut

so i've renamed these two, at least, since hater's story has become less about getting over himself and more about how he sees the world Now That He's Gotten Over Himself. i'm calling him The Great (and absent) Lord Lackadaisical right now, but i don't think that's what he'd like to be called, since he's an absent ruler who doesn't really care to be in a position of so much power and would rather fuck off to all the planets with really nice hot tubs. he and Sir Peepers (his loyal knight who cannot be convinced to leave his side) travel the galaxy with hater's sweet ride (i'm not too good at designing motorcycles yet. pending).

i haven't thought of new names/titles for wander and sylvia just yet (i cannot just call him Sitter Over Therer) but i do know what their deal is, and it's the main reason i made this au (i feel like if wander were a villain he would not in fact be a villain like lord hater or dominator because i think that kinda disregards wander's whole Shit, he'd be like screwball, and even then he'd have very strong convictions that he's doing the right thing): wander has a cult (a hivemind, kinda) and sylvia is his priest.

i think wander comes along this mushroom during a time in his life when everything seems to have been torn asunder, and instead of continuing his adventures and learning and growing as a person, the mushroom offers a solution that doesn't require much effort on his behalf. the mushroom links people together borg-style, makes them share a brain and a purpose. wander not only thinks it's super neat, but he's in such a poor state of mind when he finds it, he convinces himself it's the only way to make the galaxy a better place.

sylvia is the only person in his Ring of Friends who isn't hooked up to the mushroom, because she's actually wander's friend, and she's his ride or die. she does the things she does out of free will and dedication to her best friend, including preaching and fisticuffs.

^^^ here's some more of my initial concept art. originally the mushroom was gonna be a tree, but i had a vision of an upside down mushroom (or several, to take the place of watchdogs) scuttling around and by god is it easy to make that look like his hat.

the thing that really really pushes wander over the edge is the sheer boredom of it all. when he's connected to the mushroom, he's very little more than the brain they all share. he can't move around, and that KILLS him (see: the hole lotta nuthin). so when hater (name pending) comes along and refuses to join him and annoys him enough, he gets suuuuper stoked about having something to really DO for once.

anyway. this is what i've got for now. do you like it. you can be honest if you dont like it

[xomakara]

Reconnecting Hearts

SUMMARY |  You meet this cute guy, Jeno, while you were studying overseas and start a fling with him during the year you were there. Months after returning home to Korea, your brother introduces you to his friend, not knowing that you already know him. And intimately at that.

PAIRINGS | Jeno x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  non-idol!Jeno, overseas fling, friends with benefits, smut

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, protected and unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (both receiving/giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration

LENGTH | 8,844 words

TAGLIST | —

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Jeno. Oh, Jeno. How in the world did you slip into the bias lane? No idea but I hope everyone likes this! 💚

"Jeno," you let out a breathy moan as he begins kissing the back of your neck. "Jaemin will be back soon. We shouldn't be doing this."

"But you don't want me to stop," he says, trailing kisses to your jaw. "Do you?"

He stops and places both hands on either side of the counter you are leaning against. He buries his face into the back of your neck, waiting for your response.

You both stop in the middle of the kitchen and suddenly feel chills shoot through your body. A few months ago when you went to America for your studies, Jeno was just some cute guy from one of your classes you'd fallen into bed with. It had all just happened so fast. One second you were studying in the school's library, the next you both were kissing in some storage closet and a few days later he was in your bed, inside you. For a full year that's how things were. 

Life returned back to normal once you came back to Korea, becoming an adult, partying with your friends, dating around. Hooking up with other guys from time to time, but it never felt right. Because he wasn't with you. In reality, you only thought of him, wished he was the one touching you, that he was the one laying with you at night. You missed the feeling of his body above yours as he railed you, and most of all, his sweet yet strong arms surrounding you and making you feel safe. He was what you thought about before closing your eyes, and all you dreamed about. 

So, imagine how surprised you were when one day your brother came home from work with his fellow coworker and friend in tow. The moment you made eye contact with him, time froze. A smile formed on his lips as he looked you over. Your breathing hitched and you fidgeted nervously.

And when Jeno introduced himself to you as if it was the first time, you played along because lord knows what Jaemin would do if he found out the kind of history you two shared.

"I..." you trail, lost in words as Jeno slides the sleeve of your blouse to the side so his lips could kiss your shoulder. Your brain is becoming fuzzy, not thinking properly. Your eyes close briefly, focusing on the feeling of his fingers and lips touching your skin. 

"Jeno..." you say softly.

It takes everything in him to not take you right then and there in the kitchen. The way his name leaves your lips almost does him in. But the fear of your brother's reaction keeps him from touching you any further than he's already been doing.

"Hmm," he hums into your skin, kissing you softly. "I really missed you." 

He backs away from you and you turn around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he grips your hips with a smirk. You bite your lip softly.

"I really missed you too," you sigh. 

And just like that, everything returns to normal for a bit and you are back at square one with him. It's true. You really did miss him, more than words could even possibly begin to describe. It wasn't just sex, like it was in the beginning, no. Over time things progressed and developed, deep feelings stirring the closer you two became. At least, from your side they did.

The butterflies constantly filled your stomach whenever you two met or saw each other. And, when you did hookup, he was sweet and gentle, which made you fall a little harder every time. After every sexual act you exchanged, he always stayed a little bit longer and held you, so warm and comfortable in his arms that it was hard to breathe. His soothing fingers ran across your scalp and shoulders and your fingers touched and caressed every part of him, something you had become addicted to. It was something you couldn't get used to, not that you wanted to. No, instead you longed for it. Craved him, longed for his warmth, and yearned for him.

What you wouldn't give for him to say 'I love you' to you in that deep smooth voice of his, running those smooth lips all over your bare skin and whispering that you are beautiful and good to him. All of those feelings intensified exponentially and more each passing day. All you wanted, no need, was his love and touch.

A loud buzz sounds off, scaring you and causing you to jump out of Jeno's grasp. Both of you are breathing heavily.

You scramble around the kitchen, attempting to make your presence seem casual. After taking a deep breath, you press the speaker button, asking who's there.

"It's us, dummy," you hear Jaemin say over the speaker. "Now open the door, our hands are full."

After the doors unlock with a click, you release the breath you didn't know you were holding in.

"We'll be fine," Jeno mutters before Jaemin walks through the front door. "He doesn't know about us."

You take a second to fix yourself, your hair and blouse, before running back to the living room just in time to see Jaemin enter, the rest of your friends hot on his heels.

"Sorry we're late. We got held up at the register because someone–" your brother sends a playful glare over at Haechan, "was flirting with the cashier and held up the entire line. You should have come with us, Jeno. Then maybe the transaction would have been smoother."

The whole gang plops down in the living room after dropping the multiple bags of takeout on the coffee table. Everyone gets situated in their regular spots, opening the boxes and containers that fill the space on the table.

Jeno has seated himself across from you on the couch, leaning forward to grab a can of soda. It takes everything in you not to stare at the outline of his arm, but you manage to pry your eyes away just in time, trying hard to concentrate on the conversations around you.

For the most part, you succeed. However, that all goes away the moment you look up and make brief eye contact with Jeno, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip quickly before a smile appears on his face. You swear you catch a devilish smirk on his face before he faces away and turns to ask Jaemin a question.

Damn, that man will be the death of you.

In your peripheral view you see a hand wave in front of your face, causing you to gasp and jump slightly in your seat. Everyone sitting close laughs, except Jaemin, who's frowning from your reaction.

"Hey! What was that for?" you shout playfully, hitting his shoulder.

“You were spacing out,” Jaemin said. “We were calling you and everything.”

"Sorry," you chuckle awkwardly, glancing at Jeno for half a second. "Just thinking about what movie we should watch next. Do you guys have any suggestions?"

Jisung jumps from the floor, looking at everyone with a pout. "Please, nothing scary this time. I had nightmares for weeks after watching that last one."

"Let's watch a romantic drama!" Haechan adds with a squeal before shoving food in his mouth.

"Ew, pass," Chenle shouts from beside him.

"Yo, what about an action film?" Mark suggested.

The four of them bicker for a moment over what genre of film to watch until Renjun speaks up, settling the argument.

"Why not have a mix of genres? Like one scary, one comedy, and so on." He suggests.

Everyone nods in agreement, the bickering now gone. It is then settled.

One movie goes by before Haechan turns off the light, enveloping everyone in the dark, save for the TV. You watch the film until something else catches your attention. You're sitting next to Jeno, knees pressed against his, a throw blanket tossed over your laps, his hand squeezing your naked thigh, hidden under the soft material.

The sound from the television becomes distant as your senses focus on only him, his warm hand caressing your exposed skin. You turn to him, locking eyes as a shiver runs through you when his hand begins wandering further, dangerously close to where you want him the most. You slipped a hand under the blanket, sneaking to where Jeno's fingers are barely touching your pussy, letting him know silently you approve of his advances.

No one has seemed to notice what's happening beneath the blanket, and that's for the best. Jeno's eyes widen before a smirk forms on his face, the thumb of his hand circling your inner thigh, sending another shockwave through you, causing you to whimper ever so quietly. You thank the universe that no one is paying attention to you right now.

Your core is beginning to clench, craving the familiar feeling of Jeno's fingers touching you, filling you. It's been far too long since you've had him, but god do you miss him, need him.

Another quiet whimper slips from your lips when you see him bite his lip. This guy is fucking torturing you right now. How does he have the self control to be doing this right now with the others so close and him being right next to your brother? Your face is a deep red and is very thankful that the lights have been shut off to mask it.

“Hey, Jeno,” Jaemin said.

You snap out of it as Jaemin begins speaking. Jeno stops his hand from going any further, much to your dismay, and hums in acknowledgment.

“You’re back for good right? Like, living in Korea permanently?” Jaemin asked.

Jeno sits up straight, stretching his arms over his head before glancing down at you, then answering your brother. "Yeah. I've got all my stuff in order and moved back here for good a few days ago."

Your eyes scan Jeno's body for the hundredth time. Even now in the dim lighting, you can't help but drink him in.

God, his hands. The hands that had just been gripping you firmly are now running themselves through his thick hair. It's grown longer since the last time you saw him.

Stop. You mentally scold yourself before you let yourself drown any further into thoughts of him touching you and marking you as his, his moans filling your ear, his deep voice groaning as he–

"For real? Need a girlfriend? I have a cousin that might work out," Mark's voice drags you out of your little fantasy. "She's your type, or what I'm told is."

Jeno shakes his head. "I'm not exactly looking. You know? After just getting settled and all, I need time to figure things out. Work is becoming increasingly busy with a new branch of the company being established. It's really taking its toll. Not to mention having to move back, pack and unpack... Yeah, dating is far from the back of mind. Right now I'm just worried about-"

"Work," the rest of the group finishes his sentence for him and erupt into fits of laughter. You feel yourself laughing along with everyone, even though all you want right now is his hand to slide up under the shorts and rub circles onto your clit like the good boy you know he is. You know damn well he'd do it without a second thought. But the other six men being so near have you biting the bullet and refraining yourself from jumping on him, hoping the movies end soon. You'll just have to wait.

"It's already past one, guys. Do you all plan on sleeping here tonight?" you ask.

Renjun stretches out onto the floor, and you hear a loud popping sound emit from his bones. "I don't feel like moving. Let me crash here tonight. Pretty please?"

"Same. I don't have the energy to walk back," Haechan groans loudly.

Jaemin huffs and shoves both of the sleepy men off of him. "Alright alright. Stay, the more the merrier. It'll be like a giant sleepover."

"The moment you all get loud, I'm kicking you all out." you stand, stretching and yawning loudly, the volume from the tv now muted. "See ya tomorrow. I'm gonna go to bed."

As soon as the words leave your lips, the seven guys all begin pleading with you to watch another movie, which only prompts you to yawn again. You shake your head as you walk down the hall, ignoring them.

Their voices become background noise as you step into your room and shut the door behind you. Flopping onto your bed, the silence gives you a second to breathe, relax your mind after what had happened mere moments ago.

Your hand subconsciously trails to the spot that Jeno had his hand on before being rudely interrupted. You moan softly at the feeling of your fingertips on your throbbing clit. The hunger inside you is screaming to be satiated, but you decide you can hold out, at least for a couple more hours.

Instead of dwelling on the fact that your fling is in the other room, you flip to your side and start playing music on your phone, hoping the lyrics can put you into a deep sleep until morning. You cuddle under the covers and close your eyes, feeling the tiredness overcome your senses. The moment your eyes fall shut, your phone begins buzzing from somewhere above you.

You feel around under the blankets, nearly losing your hearing when a screech leaves the speakers. Tilting your screen towards you, a message from none other than the one guy you've been trying so desperately to forget appears before your eyes. Your heart flutters once you begin reading.

Jeno: In the living room, trying my best not to pop a boner thinking about what we started earlier. And about what you tasted like months ago when I shoved my cock down your throat, and what your face looks like when you cum.

You: Bold of you to assume I don't have a vibrator nestled between my legs right now, wishing it was you fucking me instead.

Without hesitation, you hit send, biting your bottom lip, hoping your tease will get some sort of response out of the other. The three little bubbles appear almost instantly, giving you a moment of anticipation.

Jeno: Keep your bedroom door unlocked and don't touch yourself until I'm touching you.

Oh boy. You toss your phone aside after reading and lay still in your bed, attempting to follow Jeno's wishes. A few minutes have passed by the time a quiet knock reaches your ears. You hop off the mattress, hurrying to the door. Slowly, you crack the door, peering out to see Jeno standing in the hallway, and all the guys' snores reaching your ears. Without hesitating, you pull him in, shutting the door softly and locking it.

His arms snake their way around your waist, pulling you into his chest and his lips press onto yours. Immediately, you lean into him, your tongue flicking across his, causing him to let out a slight grunt. You knew he missed this, and you had been too.

But at this moment, it's him and it's you.

The moonlight and the blue light from the LED strips adorning the top edge of the walls allows you to make out his facial features and movements as the two of you separate for a quick moment of air.

The hunger in Jeno's gaze makes you melt on the spot.

"Fuck," Jeno trails a finger down the curve of your cheek and across your lips. "I missed you so bad."

A warmth spreads throughout your body. It's been awhile, but nothing has really changed between the two of you. Despite the multiple guys you hooked up with while you were back in Seoul, they didn't do it for you the way Jeno did. They may have taken care of you physically, but none of them have made you feel the way he has. None of them can be a tender fuck buddy, switching roles and putting their needs aside just for you. The thought brings back old memories of the year abroad and the numerous times the both of you have met, making your core pulse with need.

With a finger under your chin, he lifts your head and the two of you lock eyes. With every word you speak, a puff of warm air leaves your lips and hits the skin of his face. 

"Then show me how bad," you say, biting your bottom lip.

An animalistic look forms on his face when the words reach his ears. A second passes and then his lips are crashing onto yours, his tongue fighting yours for dominance and your teeth scraping at one another, breathing hard and desperate for more. You tug at the fabric of his shirt, hands sliding up his abdomen to remove the piece of cloth from his body and allow your nails to trail their way back down and stop right at the edge of his pants. You pull away with a mischievous smile on your face.

"Someone's needy," Jeno taunts, leaning into you to nip your earlobe.

You allow him to guide you over to your bed and push you down. He takes a moment to just soak you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of your body, and when his gaze lands on the small sliver of your panties poking out from beneath your large shirt, he swallows hard.

"Please, Jeno," your soft, hushed voice pierces the heavy tension in the air. "I need you so bad."

Your lustful whine combined with the sight of you laying before him has his hard member pulsing and aching to be touched.

"Shit," he curses, slowly unzipping his jeans and letting them pool at his ankles. A low groan leaves him at the sight of his growing bulge. "Look what you've done to me, princess."

You lick your lips and slide your hips closer to the edge of the bed and sit up, face to face with his clothed cock. "May I?"

"You know you don't have to ask, right?" His thumb swipes a piece of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. "Go on, baby. I want that pretty mouth around me."

You shoot him a shy grin and waste no time removing his briefs. His erection pops out, and a shuddering gasp falls from your lips. God, this man is the walking embodiment of a god. You immediately take him in your hand, earning a low moan from Jeno. A hand is placed onto the top of your head, guiding your lips toward the tip of his cock.

"C'mon, princess," his voice is rough and urgent with need as he taps the tip against your bottom lip. "Open up for me."

Without protest, you obey and part your lips, letting him push himself deeper, sheathing his length in your warm, wet mouth. Your eyes flicker upwards, and you are met with a look of lust in his eyes. He gives you a nod and you let out a groan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the taste of his length against your tongue. His scent fills you with a longing desire that aches at the bottom of your gut.

You slowly wrap your hand around him, squeezing slightly and starting a steady rhythm, drawing soft moans of approval from him as you do so. With each stroke, you run your thumb in little circles around the tip, gathering precum on your finger.

The sound of him becoming undone under your ministrations fills the room.

"F-f-uck," he lets out an audible groan, tangling his fingers in your hair. "Look at you, so eager to swallow all of my cum." His grip on your hair tightens, pulling harshly, earning him a yelp, which travels through his cock and gives him goosebumps.

He has always loved being inside your mouth, watching you take him all the way down your throat, feeling the hot, wet warmth envelope him entirely. The sight of his length disappearing between your perfect lips sends him over the edge. Jeno pulls at the roots of your hair again, his hips slamming forward as his climax comes undone and spilling out into your eager throat.

"Do you want me to return the favor?" He offers sweetly after his orgasm subsides and his length pulls out of your mouth with a pop. You can only answer him with a lazy smile.

After adjusting back onto the bed, you lie there, still, barely having recovered from the intense orgasm that had washed over your body.

"C'mon baby," a chuckle escaped his lips when he heard the sluggish moan you give him when he tugs at your underwear, "these gotta go."

He doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly lift your lower body up for him, the wet spot on the article of clothing clearly visible, and he laughs at the sight of the stained garment.

“If that’s any sign of how bad you want me, then I have to give you what you desire,” Jeno said.

"Fuck, I hate you," you scoff as Jeno removes them at an antagonizing slow pace, slowly driving you mad with lust and longing.

"No you don't," he presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your inner thigh, teasing you. A finger lightly traces the wet mess, which you've made due to the lack of attention down there.

You buck your hips when his lips move further down.

"Be good," Jeno says between kisses. "Don't want the others to wake up now, do you?"

Before you have a chance to answer, his tongue flicks at your entrance, and a loud moan reverberates through the room. You clasp your hand over your mouth, muffling your screams of pleasure. His tongue keeps up a delicious pace, hitting just the right places as his mouth works magic. His name slips off the tip of your tongue, breathless and strangled, as if his mouth was stealing your breath. The flat side of his tongue slowly teases you as he applies light pressure on your clit. The pressure builds inside you, causing your core to pulse. Your free hand threads itself into his hair, tangling it into knots as you grip it.

"Jeno," your voice is uneven as you moan his name over and over again, "I'm almost there."

"Good," is all you hear before he starts fucking you with his tongue, harder than ever.

"I want you inside me, please," you cry, panting for dear life as your climax approaches faster than ever, "I want you so bad. I've missed you so fucking much-"

Before you finish your sentence, he's flipping your body over so that your ass is in the air, your face buried into the pillow, trying your damned hardest not to make a sound. After finding the condoms that you know are buried inside the third drawer in your dresser, he discards his remaining clothes, swiftly rolls it on, and shoves into you in one thrust, making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

"Fuck," Jeno growls, pausing when you clench your walls around his cock. "So tight."

You shudder violently, and you have a hard time thinking clearly because he's still pressing his tip right up against that special spot that has you seeing stars. The thrusts of his hips start out slow, deep, and have your body craving for more. He snaps his hips, and your eyes widen.

"Oh, Jeno, there," you cry, "there. Oh, fuck.."

Jeno continues to slide his girthy cock in and out, continuously hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again. Each of his strokes is perfectly timed with the grinding of your hips. All your feelings are completely amplified, sending shocks throughout your entire body with each pump of his hips. It isn't long before Jeno feels the familiar tension building, and you feel your walls closing around him once again. The thrusting of his hips grow faster, deeper, and sloppier until you and him reach the precipice at the same time.

He keeps going for a few more thrusts before he eventually comes to a halt. Jeno presses his forehead into your back, his breath labored and his voice groggy and thick with satisfaction and pleasure. "Fuck, sweetheart." His body presses fully into yours before you feel a warm liquid spurt inside the latex around his dick, a wetness between your thighs that was there beforehand.

Once the two of you have managed to catch your breath, Jeno slides himself out of you, quickly disposing of the rubber. Jeno moves to your side, looking you over, his eyes lidded and satisfied, your hair tousled and sticking out everywhere, your face flushed.

He slides the sheets over both of you and settles himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping an arm around your bare torso. You rest your chin onto his messy black locks, the faint scent of the conditioner from his previous shower lingering around him.

You feel the sleepiness hit your body, as does it in Jeno's.

"Hey," you whisper, and he grunts in acknowledgement, eyes still shut as his breathing calms and his expression relaxes. "Jeno?"

"Hm? Yeah? What is it?" His eyes open just a bit, peering at you.

"I was wondering," you trail off, eyes staring up at the ceiling, "since you're staying in Seoul for good...can we continue, well, whatever the fuck it is we're doing?"

It takes him a minute, but he turns himself onto his back and cracks an eye open, looking up at the ceiling the same way you were seconds ago.

A loud yawn interrupts him and you bite the inside of your cheek, a nervousness creeping in.

"Yes, for sure. I'm down if you are," the tone of his voice makes a warm and fuzzy feeling burst in your stomach. "It's been over a year and we haven't stopped. No reason why it should." 

He trails off and tilts his head to look at your face and meets your eyes. "What about your brother? Won't he notice? Be suspicious?"

You sigh and run a finger across his chest. "I'm not ready to tell Jaemin. Don't know when I'm ever gonna be."

You hadn't told him or anyone about the fling and had no plans on it for a while.

Jeno shifts his body weight, the other side of him settling against your chest. He wraps his arms around your body and hums slowly. "When it happens, it happens. We can deal with it then."

And with that, you lean into him and finally succumb to a deep slumber.

“When it happens, we’ll talk to him,” Jeno said.

"You're spending a lot of time with Jeno, lately," Haechan leans his hip onto your bedroom doorway, a playful smirk forming.

It's been several weeks since Jeno's first night here in your house, and not a single moment has gone by that you haven't both had your hands all over each other.

For some odd reason, despite the obvious suspicion and careful remarks from the others, the two of you haven't been busted for what you're doing.

It's a Saturday evening, and you and the guys are getting ready to head out for drinks together. The last to finish getting ready, you were finishing up the last touches of your makeup before turning around.

“Huh?” you asked.

He flashes a suspicious smile at you. "You. Jeno."

"What about us?" Your tone is full of caution and defense. "Are we not allowed to? Lastly, I remember you guys are his friends too."

"Ya'll fucking, aren't you?" Haechan raises an eyebrow at you.

"Please don't tell Jaemin," it takes you a few moments of gathering the words to respond to him and when you do, the plea is pathetic and desperate.

"For real? I was just joking, not actually asking if it was true–" Haechan blinks. "Damn, Y/N. Never took you to be this kinda woman."

"I have a history with him, you know," you slap Haechan's arm with the back of your hand. "A very, very dirty history. Not a lot of people are privy to it."

Haechan feigns a shocked gasp. "Do tell."

Your gaze becomes downcast, almost as though you are trying to hide from him, but he already knows too much.

"Seriously. Don't tell the others," the last thing you need is another set of idiots hounding you about it.

Haechan moves closer, keeping his eyes on you.

"If they find out, you're fucking screwed. Especially your brother," he shakes his head, a frown visible on his lips. "Are you two at least being safe?"

“We’ve always kept it safe. Haven’t slipped up in that department and I intend for it not to happen,” you reassured him.

Haechan releases the breath he didn't know he was holding and sighs deeply. He wasn't planning on pressuring you into spilling your heart out, nor did he want you to feel uncomfortable or obliged to give him a full play by play. You are a grown woman, able to take care of yourself and make the decisions you want. So why should he try to dictate or change your mind, or worse, your lifestyle?

"Look. As long as he makes you happy and isn't hurting you, I support you," he places a soft hand on top of your head and smiles widely.

That alone warms your heart. Haechan was never one to pry or gossip. This side of him never ceased to amaze you.

"Thank you," you breathe and return his smile, feeling your mood perk up again.

"Sure. But!" He snaps his fingers. Your smile turns into a playful pout. "You guys have to be more careful and figure your shit out. I can't promise you my silence when things go sideways, alright?"

"Right," you said and playfully smacked Haechan's shoulder with a laugh. "Now can we head to the damn bar?"

After pulling on an oversized jacket, the two of you walk out into the hallway where the rest of the gang has been waiting for the longest five minutes of their life.

"Fucking finally," Renjun stretches his legs. "Can we go now?"

You quickly duck down and slip your shoes on, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit. You try not to pay attention to Jeno, who watched you closely, especially how your jeans cling perfectly to the outline of your body.

The drive is longer than anticipated, leaving plenty of time to chat with your companions, and after nearly a half hour, you finally arrive and everyone hurries to exit the van, running up to the entrance. The bouncer flashes a warm smile upon recognizing you and the others, allowing them to walk in without much hassle.

Renjun quickly finds an empty booth for all of you to occupy, and the others quickly follow suit, plopping down and shoving each other over and over until there is room for everyone. Jeno finds his seat right next to you, leaning back against his seat, his arm sneakingly sliding over the leather surface to settle behind the back of your neck. A drink is placed in front of the both of you a few minutes later and the guys get lost in their conversations, ignoring everyone else but each other.

Jeno's arm stays put behind you while you play on your phone, having some casual conversation with the guys here and there. Jaemin glances your way, noting how close Jeno is to you, not saying a single word. He raises his eyebrows questioningly and continues chattering with Mark. The looks Jaemin shoots you and Jeno doesn't go unnoticed, and Haechan elbows you. You and Jeno take that as your signal to stop behaving so foolishly, so you put some distance between your bodies, the arm behind your neck retreating and his body leaning in to speak quietly.

"Alright, I'm going for round three," Chenle announces, a satisfied groan as he empties his beer bottle and rises to his feet. He glances toward his left, motioning to you with his hand and you nod your head. You rise from the booth, moving aside to let him out. "Wanna come with, Y/N?"

You shuffle out behind him. "Why not?"

With that, you and the younger walk your way to the bar and get the bartenders' attention. After ordering and paying, the two of you linger at the counter, having a few moments alone to converse.

"So," he begins, tapping his nails against the surface and clicking his tongue, "you and Jeno, huh?"

A look of amusement creeps its way across Chenle's features, his expression holding a mix of something else that you can't quite identify. The latter sits in the middle of the table, hands under his chin, contemplating how exactly to handle the conversation.

"Is it that obvious?" your eyes widen, your voice a breathy whisper.

"Come on. Anyone within a mile could tell," Chenle chuckles and shrugs, not meaning any harm or judgment behind the tone he's taken with you.

"Shit, shit, shit," you slap a palm against your face and peek in between your fingers, catching a glimpse of Chenle's contagious smile. "First Haechan and now you? God, I'm fucked, aren't I?"

Chenle lifts himself from the stool and settles next to you, a friendly smile on his face. The mood around him softens immediately and his aura is enough to calm you, to lift a weight from your shoulders. He doesn't mean any ill-will, afterall.

"Look, Y/N. Nobody will think negatively of you. Jaemin will probably say shit because he's your brother but if you like Jeno, like actually like him, then go for him," his words are genuine, his thoughts pure of concern for a friend.

He does have a point. Things aren't quite simple and clear when it comes to the situation between you and Jeno, however, this would definitely end things for good. No more sneaking around or secret meetings.

No more worrying.

"So, will you tell him?" Chenle asks you gently, placing his hand upon yours with reassurance. "You can't keep this going if it isn't working. You owe that to yourself. Jeno, too."

You muster the courage and exhale a shaky sigh. "Maybe. I'll try."

When the two of you return, the rest of your company has made themselves scarce around the place, spread out around and dancing wildly, yelling in each other's faces, drinking and drinking to drown whatever feelings they were struggling with at the present moment. The place begins to fill with even more patrons, causing it to become cramped, your nerves and anxiety to rise and rise and rise until you can barely manage a calm facial expression.

Jeno pulls you down onto the seat next to him, his lips next to your ear, husky voice rumbling in his chest. "You ok, princess? Wanna sit for a few?"

You nod, appreciating the thoughtfulness he's put into trying to comfort you.The tension leaves your body when he lets a hand rest over yours in the space between you two. "Yeah, thank you, Jeno." 

"Been thinking 'bout you for a little," Jeno flashes his eyes towards you, a small, teasing smile growing. "Maybe a few things have been popping in my head..."

"Mhm," the corner of your lip lifts as you smirk. "Care to elaborate, or?"

"Nah," Jeno answers smoothly, pulling you a little bit closer. "It's a conversation that we can have later."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Why don't we get out of here?"

Jeno hums again. "And if the guys notice?"

"I don't care any more," you looked at him. You realized there was no need to hold back anything anymore. "All I want is you, Jeno. And I'm done hiding us."

Jeno shifts to get a better look at your face, the warmth of your skin touching his in the crowded, bustling bar. He presses his palm against the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Let's get out of here then."

Grabbing a few scattered items lying on the table, the two of you get up from the seats and, taking your hands in his, move to exit the bar with no resistance or arguments coming your way, an enormous sigh of relief passing from your lungs.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he whispers against your ear. A small shiver creeps up your spine. "I got you."

You quickly meet a brisk and cold night's air the instant the two of you step outside, the crickets making a loud chirping sound as Jeno and you speed walk back towards the direction of his vehicle. Once arriving and getting in, Jeno reaches over and buckles you in, his free hand cradling the base of your skull when you lean forward to give him a heated and needy kiss, sucking the bottom of his lips harshly. The instant he shuts his door, Jeno reaches for your face, tilting it toward his, kissing you with urgency, deep and searching, an almost desperation underlying in the action. The way he looks at you after parting his lips from yours, dark irises staring into your soul, almost makes your breath stop altogether.

"Now will you tell me?" you ask quietly.

"When we get home. I'll tell you," he tells you as he backs out of the parking spot. The corners of his mouth quirk. "And I'll show you, too."

It doesn't take the two of you long to get to his place, the ride quiet and short, barely a car in sight in front or behind Jeno's. Pulling into his driveway, Jeno drives right up and parks the car, killing the ignition and taking a breath before moving. Unbuckling and exiting his door, you meet Jeno near the entrance, keys jingling as he unlocks and opens the heavy metal, letting you walk in first. After stepping foot in, the cool air conditioning hits, causing a small shiver.

"Chilly?" Jeno walks into his kitchen and heads towards a cabinet, grabbing two mugs and the bag of green tea that Jaemin bought for him as a gift, as a welcoming token. "Want me to turn up the heater?"

You nod and rub your hands together in a feeble attempt to warm yourself.

"Yeah, if that's not a problem," you plop onto his couch, draping the throw blanket over yourself. It wasn't even a second later before he's bringing the hot cups of tea and sitting down next to you, a steam of minty, earthy and comforting smell flowing from the mugs. You took a whiff and let the warm and flavorful aroma relax you. The warmth that travels through you isn't just from the liquid.

"Better?" Jeno rests his mug on the coffee table in front and draws you to his chest. The heat from his body keeps you warm and you let yourself get lost in it. "Nice?"

"Much. Thanks," you cuddle into his shoulder. "Now are you gonna explain or are you gonna keep dancing around the subject?"

He laughs, a loud and airy one, his laugh lines crinkling, his nose scrunching. Your stomach does that familiar flipping thing as you try your best not to blush like a crazy person and curl yourself into a ball right here and now. "I know when we first agreed to this thing it was only gonna be sex, y'know?"

You chuckle under your breath, suddenly finding a loose string on his hoodie rather interesting as you toy with it.

"The thing is…" Jeno begins. "This...us? Fuck. We've been doing this thing for a full year. The sex is nice, so nice, but I find myself missing every other damn thing you do. What you sound like when you first wake up. How cute you look when you sleep, and when you laugh. Just being around you. Damn. And honestly-" His hands land on top of yours, the tingles settling in, the warmth growing. You feel his heart quicken in his chest, thumping loudly and so hard you feel it about to burst. He clears his throat. "The fact is...Y/N, I've been madly, deeply in love with you for a damn long time, and it's impossible for me not to fall deeper and deeper, because you are so beautiful and amazing that it makes my chest fucking burst sometimes and–"

He's stopped mid sentence by your finger gently pressing over his lips, your cheeks glowing.

"Jeno," you breathed. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you, truly wanted you. Ever since I came home from overseas, you've been the one person in this damn world I've been thinking about. Like nonstop. No one else comes close. The feelings, they're mutual, Jeno, for real." 

Your throat tightens, your emotions spilling out before you could control yourself. "I'm pretty fucking sure I'm in love with you, Lee Jeno. Fucking love you. All of you. Every single bit of you. And I don't care if Jaemin or the world knows that."

You take your finger away, allowing him to speak. 

"Then be with me," he leans forward and presses a tender and slow kiss to your lips, so sweet that it sends a delightful flutter in the pit of your stomach. He parts for just a moment to press another tender kiss to your neck, then another higher up. "Let's give this a shot. Officially. Because I'm very fucking in love with you. For the last year I haven't stopped thinking about you, all the sweet little things you do for me, the late night chats, the mornings I get to wake up with you and talk to you."

He smiles down at you, all boyish, but that dimple of his is undeniably adorable. You've always been fascinated by it. It's the first thing that attracted you to him the first time the two of you met.

You don't say a word as you cup his face and bring his lips down onto yours, this kiss much more eager and a bit forceful, so passionate you almost gasp and whine from the sensation of it. He reaches an arm up and tangles it in your hair, bringing your mouths closer and closer.

Pulling away after what seems like hours, your breathing becomes labored, heavy, and Jeno stands, placing both hands under you and carrying you to his room, your arms draped around his neck and a shy smile playing on his lips.

"God, I'm in so much trouble," he sets you down on the bed.

"Yeah?" you stare up at him from where you lie on the mattress.

"Fuck yes," he shakes his head in amazement, still staring at you as though you've cast a spell upon him and there's no turning back from this.

You spread your legs and motion for him to join. Jeno settles himself above you, his weight resting between your legs and on his arms that he keeps next to your head, staring deeply into your eyes. He leans down and you tilt your head to capture his lips, whimpering slightly, the noise making him groan and your stomach tightens in anticipation.

"Mhm, and how much are you in trouble?" you mumble against his lips.

Jeno doesn't respond, only kisses your lips with such vigor and intensity you let out an airy whine, deepening the kiss. With expert hands, he undressed you, tugging your clothes off piece by piece, lips pressed into every patch of exposed skin. Once you're completely bare and laid bare under him, you could see Jeno swallow the lump that formed in his throat, pupils blown wide and wanting and full of lust and wonder. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his index and traces it across your cheek.

"For starters," Jeno lets out, eyes wandering from the top of your head, the downcast gaze slowly going to the valley of your chest and lower and lower until your abdomen. He hums appreciatively and smirks when he comes back up. 

"You have the most beautiful face." His other hand comes up to stroke your hair softly. "Most beautiful lips, most beautiful skin." Jeno tucks your hair behind your ear and leans closer.

"So you only fell in love with my beauty?" you jest, earning a teasing nip from him.

"Such a sassy mouth," Jeno tugs your ear. "Definitely more."

"Then don't just say that and show me what that trouble is all about," you sit up and give him a push. Jeno's quick to obey as he flips you on top of him, hands moving to rub and grope your ass, hips circling to meet his. Your fingers are under his shirt and lifting it to pull it over his head. Your fingers work his belt buckle and buttons of his jeans, his briefs quickly following and joining your clothes on his floor. He sits back and watches you with a lascivious gaze.

"Go on," you order gently. "Tell me more. I wanna hear what kind of trouble I cause you."

Your voice takes Jeno's body prisoner as you speak in a seductive, smoky tone, whispering and purring in his ear as you press the pad of your middle finger against the middle of his chest, rubbing slowly downward and leaving a trail of tingly goosebumps, a breathless groan coming from his throat.

"Do I have to?" he throws his head back, sighing blissfully when you run both hands down his sides, brushing the tip of your thumbs under his collar bones and digging them in, relishing the little hisses and grunts. Jeno lets you handle his body the way you want, turning his body at will and pulling and pushing him, settling on top of his torso as you drag the blunt fingernails of your index finger, lightly down his abdomen and chuckling. "Baby, you're driving me insane right now."

"That's the point," you reply smugly.

"Do what you want," Jeno lays back, defeated.

"Yeah?" He's mesmerized the second your fingers intertwine with his, the intensity and chemistry sparking between the two of you burning and heavy with raw arousal, and he loves every fucking second of it. Loves that you've allowed him the opportunity to love and indulge in a human like you. You settle down on his thighs, the heat of the fire pooling below, his length twitching and hardening to life. "Trouble's gonna be fucking huge."

Jeno's laughing at your silly behavior and your hands running along every crevice of his body. It's all so warm and sweet and pleasant and just feels so damn right and-

"You're my fucking trouble, Jeno," you swipe your tongue over his jaw. "Only you and you alone."

"You're my trouble too, sweetheart," he responds smoothly, voice thick and raspy. "Everything about you is trouble and there's no looking back."

He tilts his head and plants a tender kiss to your parted lips, this time with no sense of hurry or hurry. It's an act of affection and honesty. You feel yourself melt in his palms and inside the recess of his heart. You could stay like this, here with Jeno, forever.

You'd gladly welcome a future with him.

You place your forehead against Jeno's, hands holding his jaw as he runs his fingers up and down your bare back. Jeno is everything and more that you've wanted and more. With every touch and soft kiss, a rush runs through you, an electricity in the air.  You slowly lowered yourself on his shaft, feeling yourself clench around him, sighing his name.

"I'm fine," you answered, rocking your hips back and forth and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He's gazing intently in the low light of his room. "Sure?"

Buried to the hilt, you find his hands with yours, entwining them together with ease. They're bigger than yours and your hands fit perfectly around the grooves in his palms. Jeno rolls his hips into yours slowly. The tingles are back, the sweet sounds of pleasure elicited from his lips sending your heart on an endless beat. "Yeah, I'm more than sure."

With a firm and steady grasp on your hips and the curve in your backside, the pair of you become one. The motion of your bodies blends in perfect synchrony and all other noises fade. You can feel the ecstasy as his cock slips in and out with every grind of your hips. He leans forward, brushing your nose before angling his mouth to meet yours. It's a deep, emotional kiss; Jeno holds you tenderly while you gently caress the nape of his neck. As his lips move with yours, his cock presses in deeper and you're unable to resist moaning. It's a delicious rhythm that fills your senses. You'll remember his gentle thrusting for the rest of your life, each movement slow, allowing the sensation to build. Jeno feels too good and you can't help yourself from breaking away and gasping his name into the silence.

"That's my girl," Jeno trails his teeth along your collarbone. You grab at his back, sure that the scratches will leave a mark or two. You don't want to imagine it ending. You grip his ass with one hand and encourage the tempo of his hips.

You continue rocking with him, wanting it to last, savouring the feel. His pace builds in intensity as the need builds, the thickness filling you so nicely. He continues with long and even strokes. With his cock driving in and out of you at a tantalizing speed, you could feel your own need for release rising. 

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking amazing," he breathes. The pleasure is exquisite and you whimper. 

"J-Jeno, oh my god..." your moans rise in pitch as you get lost in the sensations and reach the highest peak of bliss, waves of orgasmic shudders rolling through you, and his name spilling from your lips.

"Come on, cum for me baby. Come for me, princess, just like that. Good girl," Jeno groans when you release, burying your nails into his scalp, your walls tightening around him and his cock still deep inside.

Waves crash through Jeno as his hot seed hits your wall, filling you up, a final curse falling from his lips. He holds your head and sighs heavily. His heart pounds as he holds you, a reassuring palm resting between your shoulder blades. He collapses back on the bed, bringing you down on his chest, listening to the heavy, ragged pants as you recover from your high.

When the moment settles and you can think coherently again, Jeno lifts himself up to lean against the bedrest while you perch your chin upon his pec, hands roaming along the contours of his shoulders and upper body, eyes fixated and mesmerized by him, eyes almost glossed over.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey there," you respond breathlessly.

A large hand moves the strands of sweat slicked hair plastered to your face. His touch is a little ticklish on your skin and you resist the temptation to wriggle away.

"Thirsty? I know I'm really thirsty," Jeno grins when you nod and sigh, and walks out of his bedroom stark naked and ready to fetch drinks for the two of you. The sound of his bare feet patting down the hallway fills the room as you stretch and throw yourself back on the pillows and his scent. It's him. Nothing else but him.

Just Jeno.

Minutes later he returns with a cold glass of water for you, helping you sit up and urging you to take it all. A pleased, content moan is expelled as he drinks his beverage.

“Feel better now?” Jeno asked.

You nod. He climbs back into bed, reaching over to place his own cup on the nightstand.

"Now come here and let's cuddle," he spreads his arms for you to curl up in them.

"Scooch over then," you commanded.

"Scooch?" he asks incredulously and laughs.

"Yes," you position yourself against his body, loving the way his muscular body curves around and around. "You and your massive shoulders are too wide and there's barely enough room on this bed. Scooch and cuddle me."

His laugh shakes you, making you join in the fun, a happy, airy tingle zinging up and down your spine.

"So bossy," Jeno complains, though his hand is warm on your lower back and his chin is hooked on top of your head. 

You love this position because you get to use the strong planes of his body like a pillow, nestling between the nooks and crannies of him. "And you love it."

"Mhm, yeah." A blanket is drawn up over the two of you and you settle in, nose rubbing in the hollow of his neck, comfort and the calming presence of Jeno lulling you to sleep. "I really do."

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Distraction (Annatar/Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Annatar blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Warnings: reader is manhandled and kissed on the lips and neck while under heavy mind control, having false feelings put into her head, basically no romance in sight, just Sauron being his dark creepy self

Sighing deeply, you strike out yet another flawed design for one of the Nine Rings of Men. It’s too similar to one Lord Celebrimbor has already rejected, but your mind seems to have been drained of all original thought after days on end of tireless labour.

At the very least, you have retired to your own study, away from Lord Celebrimbor’s sour mood. He has grown strange of late, distant at best and ill-tempered at worst. You doubt you would have been able to go on toiling as you do if it weren’t for the Lord of Gifts to lift your spirits with his words of encouragement, kind gaze and—on occasion—his soothing touch. He has a way of cradling your hand in his with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like a balm on your calloused skin, making any amount of strenuous work well worth the sacrifice.

You cannot deny, however much you would like to, that you have begun to harbor some measure of infatuation towards him. You try to put it out of your mind most of the time, but you must admit how much it motivates you in your work—the desire to fulfil his desire, as well as the fear that you might disappoint him.

Now, unfortunately, you feel the latter is a more likely possibility. You hate how utterly uninspired you feel, even though it’s to be expected in your state of exhaustion. You groan, leaning on the desk as you rest your head in your hands when a sound distracts you from your own frustration.

It’s coming from outside, you realize, from within the city. A distant clamour, muffled voices, and a distinct, harsh sound that has you standing from your seat, turning towards the door and—

—and finding yourself nose to nose with Annatar.

“My Lord!” you exclaim, hand flying to your suddenly rampant heart as you stumble backwards, bumping into your worktable. “Forgive me, I—I had not heard you come in.”

“Did you not?” he asks, quite puzzled. “I called your name. I was beginning to fear I had somehow offended you when we last spoke, since you seemed so intent on ignoring me.”

“Oh, no, of course not! I did not mean to—” You shake your head, stumbling on your words. Your cheeks feel as hot as the forge itself. How lost must you have been in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his presence? “I was quite absorbed in the work, I think,” you admit apologetically. You mean to ask him what he needed of you, but then the same noise from before catches your ear, and you remember why you stood in the first place. “Is that the siege alarm?”

Annatar regards you with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You are tired,” he says softly. “Your senses deceive you.”

That may be true, to an extent. You had failed to hear him earlier, after all. But unless your senses have taken full leave of you, you are certain what you’re hearing is true.

“No, I can hear it,” you insist. “Can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his answer as you walk past him—or at least, you mean to. With a step to the side, he is in your way, causing you to halt in your tracks and blink up at him in surprise instead.

“All is well in the city. Your concern lies here.”

He’s smiling as he says it. The same gentle lift of the lips that you’ve come to consider a sweet reward for your efforts in making the Rings, helping you get through the long days. Now, however, it sends a shiver down your spine. And, for the first time, it is not the pleasant kind.

“Still,” you say carefully, “I am tired, as you said. I wish to go outside—for a moment’s respite, if nothing else.”

You try to step past him. This time, it’s his hand around your wrist that stops you.

“Rest, if you must,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer, “but do so here. Then, focus on your work, as you are meant to.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the order in it is unmistakable. And his grip on your wrist is rigid, nothing like the calming touch you’ve known from him so far. You’ve displeased him, that much is clear, and the thought churns in your stomach—but for some reason, your urge to get out demands to be obeyed.

“I shall return to my work,” you press on, “once I come back inside.”

Again, you mean to walk away. You mean to put distance between you, to pull your hand from his.

He won’t let you. The moment you take your first step, his grip tightens and he pulls you back, bringing your hand between your chests and keeping you trapped against your worktable.

“My Lord, please!” you say in disbelief, frantically searching his eyes for any trace of the warmth that was once there. “You are frightening me.”

“You need not be frightened,” he says, a sharp edge to his tone, “so long as you do as I tell you.”

“I—” You stare at him, dumbfounded. You don’t know what’s come over him, but you want no part of it. “Release me at once.”

You try to wrench your hand away from his, but all that does is worsen the pain in your wrist as he keeps it in his iron grip. And yet he looks so eerily calm as he does so, as his other hand suddenly cups your cheek.

“Shh,” he coos softly, “none of that.” Your heart trembles in your chest, painfully confused as he seems to contemplate you. “I thought you’d have let me in by now,” he muses. “But perhaps I should have done this sooner.”

“Done what—?”

His lips meet yours.

It stops. All of it. The confusion, the alarms—those outside as well as those within you. A wave of calm sweeps through the very core of your being, removing in its wake all traces of distress and leaving nothing but sweet surrender. A sound escapes your throat, something like a yelp that turns into a sigh, and...

How is this happening? What came before? You can’t remember, and you don’t care to. All you know is you have imagined this before, desired it deep within your heart, and that desire is being fulfilled. There’s an ache in your wrist, but the pain is dull and you pay it no mind as he tastes your mouth languidly. Your hands come to rest on his chest, his pulling you to him by the waist. And just as you melt into him, weak with desire, he parts his lips from yours.

“Forgive me,” he says softly as your dazed gaze meets his. “Did you mean to go somewhere?”

Your brow furrows as you try to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

“I... I believe I was coming to find you,” you find yourself murmuring. You don’t quite remember, but the words come as naturally to you as the act of breathing. And they feel true, once you’ve spoken them.

The tiniest smile blooms at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” he says, satisfied. “What did you need from me?”

“I... I needed...”

The answer eludes you. You only know what you need now, and the craving is so great you cannot put it into words.

Sure enough, he knows. His eyes hold a teasing glint, almost mean, as he leans down, pressing his lips to a tender spot beneath your ear before whispering into it, “This, perhaps?” His mouth travels lower still, kissing your neck as you tremble in his arms. “Or this?”

“Annatar,” you breathe out, uncaring of his title. Surely, you are beyond formalities now.

“Yes?” he says, awfully innocent, pulling away to look you in the eye once more. “Name your desire, and you shall have it.”

Your skin sizzles where he has touched it, and the hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, and you are beyond merely voicing what you desire as you press your lips to his once more. He returns your kiss, matching your greed and swallowing your moan, and you think you might become reduced to ashes if he were to let you go.

It’s painful when he pulls away once more. You find yourself chasing his lips, craning your neck for just one more taste, but he cups your cheek to hold you still.

“Easy,” he says softly, yet the sole word feels like a command. You do settle down, though your heart is still rampant in your chest. He seems pleased by it, and that is enough to hold you still. “Now, I’m afraid there is an urgent matter I must discuss with Lord Celebrimbor. But I shall return to you, and...” he trails off, fixing you with a gaze full of promise which stokes the fire in your belly. “Remain here. Speak to no one. Wait for me. Will you do as I tell you?���

The words hold a strange echo. You can’t place it. You only know what the right answer is.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. And mean it.

“Good.” Annatar smiles, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “That pleases me greatly.”

The praise continues to warm your heart long after he is gone. You’re painfully aware, somehow, that you could never live without that feeling, or without him, again.

So you do as he told you.

[mrpenguinpants]

You are all I long for, all I worship, and adore.

— It's strange seeing your future selves being so close when you thought you both hated each other guts.

— Jing Yuan, Dan Feng (& Dan Heng) + Sunday

[Masterlist]

Suspend your disbelief for the timeline of lore, please.

Update: When I originally wrote this, I wanted to do an entire "Fly Me to the Moon," series of fics based on time travel. Hence the title. Shout-out to that one person who was waiting for me to write Sunday. I didn't, but I see you. It will happen soon.

Jing Yuan

This is the worst. The absolute worst thing ever. In the entirety of your living long life, this is the absolute worst moment so far. Were all the good times leading up to this moment? Did the Aeon's have some sick agenda, or were you randomly selected to be messed with today? If you had the option of eating literal trash bags for the rest of your life or continuing to live in this moment, you'd rather chew your own arms off. Maybe if you start now, you can save your future self the pain and humiliation of succumbing to...whatever this is.

"Aw, you were so cute when you were younger,” you - at least you think it’s you. This stranger wears the same face as you although a bit older. Perhaps alien would be a more fitting name? - this stranger coos as they cup Jing Yuan's face in their hands. Pinching cheeks with barely any fat on them with the sweetest smile you never knew you could even make. Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights who stared down an actual Lord Ravager, looks two seconds away from bolting like a scared cat. He hasn’t moved an inch since this started and honestly, as mortifying as this is, it’s way worse for him than it is for you. So naturally, you’re turning a blind eye and holding Yangqing hostage from saving his precious general of sweet words and praises.

”I see we didn’t get along at this point in time,” a deep voice muses above you from a man you’re very blatantly pretending to ignore. An older Jing Yuan stands beside you, amused at his younger self having a barely contained stroke. If it wasn't bad enough that a future version of yourself suddenly appeared, Jing Yuan just had to follow. Always a nuisance no matter his age. Maybe if you hold your breath, you’ll pass out and everything will blow over. It sounds less painful than trying to eat yourself from the outside in any way. Before you can start, a hand, heavy yet somehow gentle, is placed on your shoulder. “I don’t recommend trying to self-induce a suffocation. Nor attempt any cannibalism on the self either.”

Okay. That’s creepy. Do senior citizens suddenly gain mind-reading powers? You’ve heard the story that if a man stays a virgin until he’s 30, he'll become a wizard. You let out a huff of amusement at that thought, maybe that’s what’s happening. That amusement gets cut short when you realize that somehow, you fell for this 30-year-old virgin. You refuse to accept that out of spite. That story was meant for short-life species anyway.

“For all intensive purposes, I’m choosing to believe this is a nightmare and the first step to waking up from one is to induce pain,” you answer blandly, your grip on Yanqing finally waning as the boy sprints in for the rescue. Only to get swept up in the storm as your other self switches her attention to the kid. Sticky fingers and starry eyes have Yanqing disarmed before he can even lift a finger to summon his ice sword, falling prey to the musing of a Xianzhou auntie. Nevertheless, Yanqing does his job correctly because it allows Jing Yuan to finally escape as he stumbles over to you and his other self.

"How far the mighty have fallen," you snicker behind your hand at how ruffled Jing Yuan looks. His hair is a bit fluffy from how many times your future self ran their hands through it, and his cheeks are a bit pink. Probably from all the pinching. There's even a deep chuckle next to you to accompany your words as Jing Yuan coughs into his fist before straightening up properly. You can see Yanqing being given sweets behind his back and that alone buys the kids complacency.

"My apologies for that," Jing Yuan says as the older Jing Yuan simply laughs in response. Unserious and unfretted in everything.

Huh, now that you look closer. He has laugh lines.

"It is I that should apologize. We have disturbed your schedule with our, ahem, compliments," Other Jing Yuan chuckles once again, as if the fact that he has time traveled into the past was a small "disturbance". Aeons, you hate this guy in every form.

They go back and forth, talking in that faux politeness that never truly goes anywhere before you finally had enough of this. You're not sticking around for this tea-time pleasantries any longer than you need to. It's the exact reason why you left your position as the "Divine Foresight Counselor" and passed it off to Qingzu as soon as you could. Unfortunately, you're going up against two Jing Yuan's, so the moment you shift your shoe to take a step back to remove yourself from the conversation, two pairs of golden eyes snap to you. One is smiling, the other is frowning.

"Heading off?"

"Where are you going?"

You look between the two, older and younger, and you can feel your head beginning to hurt. You let out a sigh, rubbing your forehead, before ultimately picking the lesser of two evils. If you have to look into those love-stricken soft eyes one more time, you might actually pass away.

"Out. You don't need me here anymore do you, General? Or do I require your dismissal now?" you ask bluntly, turning to the Jing Yuan you're used to. The one who's supposed to be in this timeline. "If you need anything, I'm sure Diviner Fu would love to be of assistance."

You don't bother to wait for Jing Yuan to say anything, pivoting on your heel and marching out of the Exalting Sanctum. You glance at your other self, a bitter feeling rising in your chest when they look at you disapprovingly. You can tell they want to say something but one brief look to the side, where the two Jing Yuans stand, and they close their mouth and turn around. Regardless, there's no reason for you to stick around longer. As long as the time travelers stay within the exalting sanctum, no one will know they ever appeared in the first place.

As you near the exiting doors, nodding to the guards on each side, you spare one last glance back. Your sudden departure hasn't halted anything and Jing Yuan is speaking to both his other self and you. Yanqing huddles close, one of his hands in your other self's hand, as he tries his best to participate in the discussion. Realistically, you should set aside your petty pride and march back to help. Do something other than running away and letting everyone else pick up the pieces for you. But the doors are already open and you need a sweet drink desperately.

There's been a growing sour taste on your tongue every time your Jing Yuan stares longingly at the other you.

Dan Feng

There isn't a single word to describe the situation you're in right now. Strange? Uncanny? Just super weird? You've seen and done a lot of weird things in your long life, but this is the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to you - and you've seen a star collapse before.

“If you keep making that expression, it’ll stick on your face,” Jing Yuan muffles his laugh under his hand, keeping up with your brisk pace as you not-so-subtly run away from the situation thrust into your hands. A tactical retreat you call it. You give Jing Yuan a pained grimace for a brief second before focusing straight ahead again.

“Jing Yuan, I will make sure your promotion to General is riddled with paperwork,” you say straight-faced. He knows you’re lying, you adore your pseudo-nephew too much to do that to him, but it does make him jolt and respectfully keep his mouth shut. However, in exchange, it makes the third pair of footsteps all the more louder. The source of your current predicament and Jing Yuan's amusement. You peer over your shoulder at the young man just to make absolutely sure that you're not hallucinating. A tall, slender young man with blue eyes, fair skin, and black hair stares right back at you before quickly averting his gaze back to the ground. Even with his unique coat and clothing, he has the splitting image of that old lizard. Even though this stranger is younger...and without a stick up his ass either.

He said his name was Dan Heng. A "traveling guard" for the renowned Astral Express. He had sworn on his life that he was telling the truth but that didn't change the fact of who he looked like. If Jing Yuan hadn't been there to vouch for him, then you would have attempted to throw him off the Luofu yourself. According to Jing Yuan, he found the young man "asleep" under one of the ginkgo trees, but otherwise wasn't doing any harm to anyone. He had just appeared with no way to return to where he came from.

At least you have one thing in common: you both don’t want to be here.

"So, are you a distant relative? Is this your first time visiting the Luofu? Oh! Are you here to visit him for vidyadhara business?" Jing Yuan spitballs one question after the other, his barely contained excitement shining through. He had slowed his pace to walk side-by-side with Dan Heng, illustrating the differences between them. Jing Yuan barely reaches Dan Heng's waist, the standard cloud knight uniform looking plain compared to the other's elaborate coat. Teal clashing with blue. Although, they match in their one red accessory flapping in the wind.

Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his hand, before giving Jing Yuan a rather embarrassed look, "I don't think it'd be wise for me to say anything. If you have any questions, you should ask my teacher..."

Dan Heng shoots you a look as he says the word 'teacher', to which you raise an eyebrow right back. You've never seen this specific man in your life, let alone taken on any students. You don't even like kids that much unless their name is Jing Yuan and even, he isn't fully nestled in your heart. But that's another weird thing about this whole situation. This mysterious "teacher" apparently came along for the ride, yet the man won't spare a single detail about them. Vague descriptions that could be for anyone but wouldn't be a definite confirmation. All in all, it's been a headache and not something you wished to do on a bright and sunny morning. It's frankly out of your pay grade to be babysitting wandering travelers, even if they look like the High Elder.

“We’re here,” you call out, abruptly stopping your near sprint as you feel two bodies collide into your back. One has the decency to step back with an apology while the other clings to your arm as he peers around your waist.

"The forge?" Jing Yuan questions, tilting his head almost fully sideways as the three of you look up at the unassuming blacksmith shop.

"Yep, we're visiting the only adult of the group. Come on, Yingxing should still be inside," you say eyes forward but your arm reaches behind you to hold onto the retreating body of Dan Heng, who has been quietly trying to step away as soon as you confirmed just where you were. Jokes on him, you're the master of running away from your problems- retreating. You're the master at tactical retreating.

Although it’s muffled, you can hear some commotion going on inside. Maybe an unruly customer who didn’t read the fine print and is now venting their frustration? You share a look of confusion with Jing Yuan as you strong-arm Dan Heng into coming inside.

Entering the store, it looks relatively normal? There's nothing out of place or anything to show there was a scuffle, but the argument is getting louder sounding from the back of the store, into the forge. Which is strange for two reasons. Firstly, Yingxing may not be a dragon but he guards the forge with his life. Secondly, the only other people allowed in aren't even in the area. A mutual understanding passes through the three of you, Dan Heng finally giving up on trying to escape with the death grip you have on his arm, and you all tip-toe to the back door. Jing Yuan being the smallest reaches the door first, his head peeking out, your head above his as you squint into the room, and Dan Heng above yours with a look of defeat.

“You selfish old lizard! I’d outta cut your tail off right now for all the trouble you caused you senile son of a-“

"Please calm down, this is still the High Elder you're speaking to!"

What you see is something you'd never expect to see, and you need to reiterate that you've seen a literal star collapse. An older version of you is being held back by Yingxing as they throw threats and cusses at Dan Feng, who looks relatively unbothered by the promises to maim him.

“Teacher!”

Dan Heng, who has kept the most monotone voice imaginable since meeting him, suddenly pushes himself forward. A small "ah!" comes from Jing Yuan as he flops onto the floor from the sudden movement. A spear you've definitely seen before materializes in his hand as he goes to swing at Yingxing, only to be parried away by an identical spear. If you thought the tension between your first meeting with Dan Heng was rough, this feels like the Aeons themselves are fighting against each other. Yingxing and the other you have gone slack in surprise as two vidyadhara's who share the same face are kept at a standstill. Two cloud piercers pointed at each other, poised and ready to strike again, the air growing more humid with sticky beads of water vapor suspended in the air. Well, if you had any doubts about Dan Heng looking way too similar to Dan Feng, this pretty much confirms it. They're the same person.

Your eyes slide to the other you.

A falling star has nothing on this.

Sunday

There's something off about this entire situation, and there are enough oddities to begin with, but there's just something that doesn't sit right with you. Was there such a thing as a second puberty? Is that what a "mid-life" crisis was? Aren't you supposed to dye your hair and buy a sports car when that happens? Because the person walking next to you is certainly not you. They're too...peppy.

When you first saw the "future you", you had assumed they were a figment of someone's imagination. A dream perhaps? In Penacony, it would definitely be possible, but who would want to dream of you? The other you didn't seem that weird either, just a bit older and more well-mannered, but otherwise exactly the same. They had greeted you cheerfully, even coming up to shake your hand because "it was the polite thing to do when greeting friends.". You didn't know how to react to that wording so you brushed it aside. Maybe in the future, you're some big shot? That's kind of exciting to imagine.

"So...any idea how you got here?" you ask, turning to the other you. It's kind of funny that you're escorting yourself but you doubt the future you remember's the winding pathways the Bloodhounds take to the main base. Although your boss is quite nonchalant, Gallagher has always had a steady head on his shoulders. If you can't figure out a way to fix this time travel business, he can at least play damage control.

"I'm not entirely sure. I was about to set out to welcome some new friends on behalf of my husband, and then I was suddenly here. Oh, I hope he isn't upset with me for disappearing," your other self hums, a hand on their cheek, before quickly jolting up, "Ah, I guess I should say our husband now."

You let out an awkward laugh to match their giggle. Although your future self doesn't look that much older than you, it seems you managed to get hitched with someone great. They always seem to slip the word "husband" into every sentence, heck- you're making new friends because of him. Your mother would weep tears of joy learning that fact. Although it does make you curious just who your supposed husband is. The only man you see more than once in your life is Gallagher, and respectfully, he's not your type. But then who else? Perhaps one of the patrons? You've heard the news that the IPC sent a handsome gambler with beautiful eyes. Perhaps that's who you've fallen in love with? You don't want to ask because you don't want to mess up the timeline and frankly, you don't want to ruin the surprise. To be honest, even though you never thought about marriage, it kinda makes you giddy knowing that in the future, you seem to love your husband so much. A bit too much but it's probably the honeymoon phase train never stopping.

You still can't help but shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.

There's just the slightest sinister curl in their smile. As if they're secretly laughing at the expense of everyone while keeping on an angelic facade. It's unsettling and makes chills down go your spine when it's your face that does it. The only time you've felt this sense of unease was when you accidentally stumbled into Gallagher's private meeting with the Head of the Oak Family. The Halovian had simply smiled, inquiring who you were and holding his hand out for you to shake. Your fingers had just brushed against his white glove when Gallagher stepped in, gripping your wrist hard enough for bruises, and forcibly pushed you out the door.

"Someone not important."

That's what your boss had said. You thought he spoke so harshly because he was pissed at you for possibly giving the Oak Family a bad first impression. He pretended it never happened and you never brought it up, afraid he might fire you from your job.

"I don't mean to pry, but are you alright?"

You blink, shaken out of your thoughts by your future self's question. They smile at you kindly, a slight tilt to their head as they wait for you to answer patiently.

"Oh! Sorry, I kinda spaced out there for a bit..." You let out an awkward laugh. Your voice sounds weak even to you, but the other you just nods in understanding. Perhaps it's because it's technically you that you're talking to, or that feeling of foreboding, that you feel like you need to explain yourself, "I guess I haven't been sleeping well. Gallagher has me running errands on the other side of Penacony in preparation for the Charmony Festival. Between you and me, I think he's dumping his errands on me so he can slack off."

Your lighthearted chuckle tapers off when the other you doesn't respond in kind to your joke. In fact, bringing up Gallagher's name has completely cleared their face from that prim and proper mask. Leaving behind a blank expression with disinterested eyes before a blink, and there's that same smile smeared on.

"You speak rather fondly of him. It seems I'm farther into the past than I originally thought," they mumble to themselves. Although you pick up on the words easily, you double-take just to make absolutely sure those words came from them. Sure, Gallagher isn't the most traditional-looking boss but he's not a bad person. Especially not to you. When you were looking for a job, he was the one to approach you out of the blue to work under him as a Bloodhound. If he never showed up, you would have most likely wasted away as a paper pusher for one of the families. He's always forgiven your mistakes and always offered to escort you home even though you can take care of yourself. So why is your future self so unfriendly to someone you currently hold in high regard?

"Oh uh...did something happen between us and Gallagher? I mean, I always suspected I'd get fired but I don't know, I always thought we got along. I mean, he has been acting a bit weird since that Oak Family Head came around but he's probably just stressed, right? Oh wait- I don't think we should be talking about this. I don't want to start a butterfly effect, especially so close to the festival-" you muse only to get interrupted.

"If I were you, I wouldn't trust that dog so easily," your other self spits with so much venom that you take a step away. Is it possible that you misjudged how close you were with Gallagher? Your other self talks about him as if he had betrayed them on a personal level. This shouldn't be possible because you and Gallagher have a strictly professional relationship. Unless you potentially knew him before you arrived in Penacony? To be fair, your memory gets a bit hazy looking back but you're sure you would remember someone like Gallagher.

"Wha- Hey, I don't know what happened but you shouldn't call him a dog-"

"We're here."

You stop in your tracks. What? We're here? You look up and realize that you've completely walked off the beaten path and happened upon a door. In fact, if you remember correctly, this was the door you stumbled into when you first met that Halovian. When did it become your other self escorting you rather than the other way around? You thought they wouldn't know these back alley pathways anymore.

"Why are we here?" you ask tentatively. Realistically, you know nothing bad will happen to you, at least not physically. You're their past. Whatever happens to you will affect them. A small scrape here will become a scar for them later.

"You haven't been sleeping well correct? I remember when I used to have headaches all the time. But you'll be okay now, he'll make things all better. While it's a bit early, I'm sure you'll understand. You are me after all," they smile sweetly, taking your hand in theirs as they pull you in front of the door.

"Come now, let's go meet our husband. He's been eagerly waiting for you for a long time."

---

Small author's note: I fell into a pit and wrote way too much. If I didn't cut it off, this fic would take another year to finish. That's why there's no real ending, lol.

[sour-leminies]

My little Fairy

Pairing: Hook x Fairy F!Reader

Summary: Coming to Merlin Acadamy you grew very close to the pirate with a hook. Everyone had declared you Hook's pirate Fairy. Truth be told, most people couldn't believe how loyal and caring you were to the pirate. So, when you finally snap, for the first time in a long time James didn't have you by his side, and all he knew was he wanted you back. Now.

Warnings: None I can think of, but let me know otherwise.

Taglist: @astrynyx @snixx2088 @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm Just ask to be tagged!

Navigation — other works!

I watched as Bridget and her friends all danced around the court yard - singing and dancing. It was sickening, they were so sweet and yet I couldn't help the part of me that yearned for that kind of friendship.

My only friend was Captain Hook, and if given the chance I'm positive he would have ditched me long ago if not for my help with things. Whenever he wasn't prepared for a test, I'd skip my own class to be in my smaller form tucked away in his shirt - telling him the answers. Or whoever he wanted me to spy on one of his victims he terrorized, I'd do so. Or when he wanted pixie dust, etc. The point was, I'd give my soul for Captain James Hook, and I don't even think he sees me as a friend.

Snapping out of my haze I landed on James's shoulder, whispering in his ear - telling him how Bridget was in the courtyard being all happy. A message he hurried to tell Uliana, before he made his way to the spot. I was still on his shoulder as he entered the courtyard with a dramatic flair.

I remained on his shoulder as he sang and danced, until Uliana turned into a flamingo. Something I couldn't help but smile at. Part of me was jealous of Uliana, and her relationship with James. It looked more intimate than his with Maleficent.

I pulled James through a different door, Maleficent following after us - and we cut the girls off. I now rested on Maleficent Horns. I let out a gasp, that came out like a jingle.

The Vk's all retreated once Uliana ran away - screaming and soaking wet. At least she was no longer a flamingo.

Once everyone cooled down, I was now in my human form laying on my bed, dressed in a nice pretty black dress. My makeup and hair had been done and all I had to do was wait for Hook to get here so we could go to that birthday dinner he promised me.

"Still no Hook?" Maleficent - who was also my roommate asked me. "No, you would think he'd show by now. I mean he's twenty minutes late." I praised the lord that my voice didn't come out as jingles when in my human form. Annoyingly so, only other Faires and James could understand me when I was in my smaller size.

"I hate to say this," my roommate spoke as she sat onto my bed with me. "But maybe he forgot."

I quickly shook my head. No way - he promised me. He had promised. He wouldn't forget me.

Slowly the hours ticked by and by the time it struck eight, two hours after the time we agreed on, Maleficent forced me up, and her hand Hades took me to dinner.

I wanted to cry, but how could I? Just because I love him, doesn't mean he loves me. At that very moment I accept that cold hard truth.

So as Maleficent rubbed my arm, and Hades even pat my head - I had decided that I would stop trying with Hook, it'll never happen anyways.

—

Over the next few days you ignored Hook. You hadn't made the first move to talk to him, and it seemed he had nothing he wanted you to do for him.

When the third day of you ignoring him he grew antsy. He didn't know what the sudden change in you was, but for some very odd reason - he didn't like it.

He walked out of detention - Something he had gotten when he was caught breaking in Merlin's office. His very first thought was that you weren't there. Typically, when he'd get detention - if you didn't sit in there with him in his jacket, then you'd always greet him with a hug once he walked out the doors.

"Yo, Mali." He called out to the mistress of evil. "You heading to your room?"

The dark fairy nodded her head silently, and James took that as an invitation to walk her to her room. Even though he would never admit it, the real reason was so he could check on his little fairy. The one he was now growing worried about.

—

You jumped at the sound of the door opening. Looking up from the books you were reading on your bed, you were surprised to see Maleficent, but also James.

"Hook." You spoke, but kept your voice neutral.

The man couldn't help but flinch at the name you used. You never called him that, you always either used Captain or James. Now he knew somethings wrong.

"We need to talk." Came his short reply, but you weren't dumb, you could see the slow anger bubbling up in his eyes.

You slowly got off your bed, and walked out into the hallway with him. "What's the problem?" You were honestly he hadn't already listed things he wanted done, but you were sure he'd start soon.

"The problem? You tell me. You suddenly ignore me, I haven't seen you in three days - but I know good and well Hades has. So you fucking tell me the problem." His voice was slowly growing louder and louder.

"Hey calm down." You tried to keep your guy's voice quiet - but that only set him off more.

"Calm down?! How can I be calm when you vanished. You were gone." Suddenly both of you stopped. You both could hear the hurt, the insecurity, but most importantly the fear laced in his tone. His chest breathed up and down heavily as he realized just how much he bloody missed you.

"Listen, Hook." "James."

He took a step closer to you, slightly pushing you into the wall as he pushed into you, leaning down to breath you in.

Fuck he felt like an addict who needed a hit, and finally scratched that itch under their skin.

"You call me James." His breath fanned over your face, as he slightly leaned up to get a look at your face.

Part of you loved this, as you placed your hands onto his chest, the open part of his shirt so you both could feel the skin to skin contact.

For James it was like your touch awakened something in him. Something that called for your name. Something in him burned for you.

He leaned down, his breath fanning over your lips. Making you close your eyes in anticipation. Hook didn't was a single second. He dropped his hook from his hand, and placed it onto your cheek, while his other hand grabbed a hold of the back of your neck.

You in this moment couldn't deny you loved this - the feel of his lips on yours, the feel of his wanting you. But it was too late.

He had made it clear that you weren't a priority. And even though bread crumbs of his affection felt like a feast - it wasn't enough. You hand to stand up, You deserve better. Something that Captain hook couldn't give you.

You built your strength and pushed him away. "No."

Hook looked at you confused, did you not just feel what happened between the two of you? Because he was more than happy to give a repeat.

"I deserve better than you." You pushed him again, finally letting the tears out. Letting the tears out of a woman who wanted nothing more than the man she was crying over. "I deserve so much more than what you give me." Which was nothing. You pushed him again and this time he grabbed both your hand and pulled you into him, letting you hit him over and over until you were drained - but never letting go of you.

"You done?" You glared up and him through your pretty wet eyelashes. "Good. Now listen. You will have no one other than me. There will be no other man, woman, I don't give a fuck. Your my little fairy." You went to shake you head. No - maybe once you were his but not anymore.

"You don't even make a priority - how can you say that?" Your voice was horse from the mini break down you had while punching him.

"You are my priority." How could you say you weren't? Even when he though nothing of you, from the first moment he met you he had put you as a priority on his list.

"Ask me about how I spent my birthday three days ago." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

You could see the panic cross his face. The regret and self loathing as well. And maybe once upon a time that would be enough, but not anymore.

You pulled yourself away from him and hurried into your room, locking the door.

He banged a couple time before he spoke through the wood.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry. Sorry can't even explain, let me make it up to you." When he got no response from he, he continued on. "I am sorry about this but we will move past it. Just remember you may think you are free of me, but your are not. I will haunt you, beg for your forgiveness. You want better - I'll be better."

You silently cried while Hook poured everything he had from his heart into his next words.

"I'll be so much fucking better for you, my little fairy. So better."

—

The rest of the entire week, Hook would try his best; he'd bring flowers to you in the morning, he'd always walk you to class - despite how much you told him to leave you alone.

James knew he screwed up, and he hated himself for it. He didn't know what he had and he took it for granted.

He would scowl at Hades and Maleficent when you all were hanging out at the black lagoon.

Just because you and hook were on shaky ground didn't mean you were no less a Vk. Something that the crew grew to respect about you.

Every time you walked past him - not giving him a glance, he felt his chest tighten. He miss how you would cling to him. How you would rest on your shoulder when you felt over stimulated. The way you would accidently spray him with pixie dust, causing him to float.

He missed teaching you sword fighting, and all the basics. He missed you.

"Y/N!" He called out to you, desprate to get your attention. For the first time, since that kiss you didn't glare at him - nor push him away.

Instead it was worse. He felt his stomach grow cold at the neutral and emotionless look in your eyes. At least when you hated him you still cared. Now he didn't know. Your walls were up so high - it's shadow could darken a valley.

"Yes Hook?" He closed his eyes, shaking off the feeling he had.

"First, it's James. Second, will you go to dinner with me." You opened your mouth to disagree but he covered it before you could make a sound.

"Don't say no." He could hear his heart pounding in his head. "Just come. Meet me at Dip and Go dinner tonight at eight."

He dropped his hand from your mouth, and he found his courage to speak his next words.

"If you don't come I'll leave you alone." He would not, but he needed to know that deep down he still had a chance. And if he didn't have one then he would spend the rest of his life fighting for one.

He walked away, nervous for the reality check that he would soon face tonight.

—

The clock on your dorm wall ticked, and ticked. Each second growing closer to eight. The diner was an hour away and if you were to make it in time you should be leaving now.

But you just couldn't. You were too afraid. You weren't a fool, you could tell James was sorry, and regretful, but you didn't know if you could trust him.

He had unknowingly held your heart - and then crushed it. What would he do if he had known how much you cared for him? Would he treat you different?

"You should go." You looked over to the dark fairy, you had thought she was out with Hades.

"I'm scared." You had once thought James was your only friend, but Maleficent and even her boyfriend proved me wrong. "That's what makes it worth it."

She walked over to your bed, sitting down beside me before she carried on. "If you even have a chance for love then it's worth it to fight. And if you decide that he's not worth it, then at the very least you owe it to yourself to find closure." Maybe she was right.

—

Hook glanced at the clock on the wall of the diner, it said eight forty, and he knew that she wasn't going to show. He blew his shot. He wanted to throw the glass Infront of him, the one where he poured rum into it.

He had decided to dress nicely, wore his best clothing, even left his hook at home. He wanted to look his best for you - to show you he could be a good guy for you.

He had already paid for his drink, so he left a twenty bill on the table and walked out. He would wait longer, but he could tell the employees had wanted him out.

He felt like he couldn't breathe as he walked down the path, he wanted to take you on. The trees lit up with beautiful fireflies at night, and it was a view he wanted to share with you.

His vision blurred, and his chest breathed up and down, as his heart ached, pounded. He had no problems with ripping his heart out for you, but fuck, all he needed was you. He felt like a fool - not because you didn't show, but because he was too self-absorbed and if he had opened his eyes from the beginning thing would be different.

He was a villain, and villains don't get happy endings. He knew that he could never have you, simply because you were his happy ending.

He stopped walking, as he tried to calm his heart with his shaking hands. Was he having a panic attack?

"James!" He heard your voice scream out his name, as you started to run to him. Fuck, he didn't care if he was dying as he ran to you with all the speed he could muster.

Once you were at arm's length you jumped into him, and he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could. Loving the smell that invaded his senses with open arms.

You were late, he didn't know why, nor did he care. You were here with him. That single thought caused him to break. He couldn't hold onto his sobs anymore.

He thought he lost you because of himself. He thought he would spend his entire life alone - longing for the feel of you. He thought that truly lost you. Every part of him rejected that. He couldn't live with that.

He felt his knees start to weaken as he fell to the ground, you still in his arms and he clanged to you crying. You felt your heart break once again - and all you wanted was for your pirate to feel better. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing his back as he let all his fears out, all his emotions.

"I... I love you so so so much." He heaved out, his breath making him repeat. "And I'm... I'm sorry." He was and even you knew that. You were tired as well.

You pulled his face away from your neck, and for a moment he fought you - thinking you were once again going to push him away. You rubbed you thumb across his cheek as you looked into his beautiful eyes. His brown eyes were bloodshot red from the crying, and his eyeliner had started to smidge. His eyelashes soaking together, his lips trembling as he tried to get himself together.

"I forgive you." You whispered out, before pushing your lips against his soft, and wet ones. It was a small, and short kiss, but it was full of the love you had for him. The love he felt like he no longer deserved.

"I'm sorry." His voice came out like a while as more tears dropped from his eyes.

"I forgive you." You whispered once again, and this time he initiated the kiss. Soft, craving, and you could feel his sorrow. Despite the fact he was kissing you, you could still feel him begging for forgiveness.

"I love you." You told him, and while that's all he wanted to hear. He no longer felt like that was the case. How could you love him when he hated everything about himself? How could you forgive him, when he's still kicking his own ass.

"I love you two, my little fairy." Fuck his voice broke again as he rested his forehead against yours. You also couldn't help but cry as well.

—

James kept his promise. He did become better for you, and only you. He was still a villain, but he was a gentleman to you. He kissed you every time he saw you, gave you flowers every month when your old ones would die.

He did everything he could to become a good enough person for you, and while daily you'd reassure him how happy you are - he couldn't get your heartbroken face out of his mind.

He'd have nightmares of you leaving him all alone. You loved him, and he didn't feel worthy of it, but he'd be damned of someone else had it. He was still a villain.

The first moment where he finally felt okay to breath was when you told him the future you wanted with him. You had wanted a future with him. Him.

You wanted three kids, three girls, and you would love to watch him become a father as you all lived on his ship.

When you were all banished to the Isle of the lost, he hated himself for getting you stuck there, but you'd remind him you'd rather be with him then in some land without him.

When you first got pregnant, he couldn't help but be so joyous of the boy in your stomach. He never told you he wanted a son, but you knew so you also felt happy.

You had named him Harry, after James repeatedly told you he couldn't think of one. The second born was a girl, and you demanded he named her. So, he stole your idea and named her Harriet. Then on the final and last born, you told him he couldn't name your baby girl after he just stole Harry's name and gave it to his sister.

You, James, Harry, Harriet, and CJ lived on hook's ship. And despite the living conditions, you loved your family no less.

—

A/N: Hiii, if you see this and sent me an Elsa reader x Hook request I promise I am working on that!!

[troublesomesnitch]

The Novice

Aemond x Septa!Reader

The one-eyed prince makes a late night confession.

Contents: Book!Aemond. Pure filth, extremely dubious consent/non-con. Confessional dirty talk, coercion, power imbalance.

Words: 4200

Mostly book!Aemond, but with some show elements added to make him a real piece of shit.

CW: sexual assault!

Proof read, but I am not good at proof reading.

-

Twice a week, the grand sept receives fine visitors.

It is always something you look forward to, something special and exciting; hearing guards in the streets outside, and the swift feet of errand boys running to inform your superiors.

The queen will be arriving shortly. 

There is not much preparation that needs to be done, because you never tarry in your duties - there are always fresh matches laid out, candles ready to be lit, not a spec of dust on the altars. But for the queen, you go above and beyond. You fetch cushions for her dainty knees, you light incense in every corner, and you usher out any crowds that are not worthy of her presence. 

You greatly admire the queen. She is all that a lady should be, the very image of womanhood. Gracious, pious, beautifully but modestly dressed, and always kind and courteous to you. She says thank you, and blessed day, sweet Sister, and she asks about your training, your health and wellbeing, what charitable causes you wish to devote yourself to. 

The older septas say that the queen seems to have taken a liking to you, and that perhaps if you are lucky, she will request for you to join her household once you have taken your vows. To be a helper and companion to her daughter, and to teach the little prince and princess - her grandchildren, which is a strange thought, because the queen is so young and so beautiful to already be a grandmother. 

She is certainly much younger than her husband. The king is old and frail and rarely leaves his castle now, but even in his youth, he never came to the sept. At least that is what you are told. Septon Alester says he is an unworthy husband, and an unworthy ruler, too. A heretic, like all the rest of his Valyrian kin, who flout divine law and believe themselves above the gods. 

You would never dare to utter such a thing, but it seems at least partially true - in all the time you have served the sept, the king has never accompanied his queen to prayer. Not even once. She always comes alone, escorted by her guard and her maid. And sometimes by her son. 

The one-eyed prince. The one who rides the largest beast in the world. 

There are many rumours swirling about noble lords and ladies, but especially about him. In the taverns and winesinks people say he is of a sullen disposition, and that the loss of his eye at such a young age has left his face hideous and deformed - clearly they have never seen him, but you have, and you know it is nothing more than malicious slander. 

The prince is as beautiful as his mother. 

They look lovely when they kneel together by the altar, with their hands delicately folded and their heads respectfully bowed. Regal, godly. Like the Mother and the Warrior, you think. You often wonder about the contents of his prayers - what could a royal prince possibly wish for? Not as many things as a queen, it would seem, because he never kneels for as long, retreating after a minute or two to stand and wait for his mother. Watch over her; look at her with devotion and reverence. You cannot help but steal quick glances at him; at his graceful posture and his strong face, and you are always too slow to look away, so sometimes he catches you in it. Even when you stand on his blind side, he somehow knows to turn his head and meet your gaze. The little bow he gives you is courteous, but the taunting smile that follows is not, and you must always remind yourself that you have done nothing wrong. 

It is not a sin to be curious. 

—

When the evening bell tolls, and the city gates close, the High Septon calls to prayer. But one person must always stay behind to keep vigil until the morning, and the duty is shared between all servants of the Faith. Septons and septas, novices, even holy brothers and sisters, sometimes. Only the Most Devout are exempt from it, as well as those who are weakened by illness or old age.

You are neither, but you do not mind taking your turn. It is an easy task, as all of the city is asleep, and those who are not would much rather drink and carouse than come to a place of worship. Here, the night is quiet and calm, and you quite like these hours of solitude. Alone in the sept with only the statues, and maybe the gods, for company. 

On this day though, you are startled from your thoughts when the heavy doors are swung open. 

You have never before encountered guests at this hour, so your fearful imagination is quick to jump to conclusions - the man could be a thief, a common brute, a scoundrel hiding from a brawl, or - gods forbid - from the City Watch.

But when you peek out from your little corner, you are surprised to see that it is the prince. And that he is alone. 

He is dressed differently tonight, in dull colours and coarser fabrics, far simpler than what he usually wears. Perhaps in an attempt to go unnoticed among the common people - but if that was indeed his intention, he has very much failed. Everything about him is unusual, from his hair to his eye to the shining silver clasp at his neck; the immaculate tailoring of each of his garments. Even the way he carries himself makes it abundantly clear that this is no grocer or stonemason. 

You cast your eyes down as his steps echo through the sept, purposeful and determined.  Clearly heading towards you, but you would hate to be presumptuous, so it is only when he is right in front of you that you rise from your seat to curtsy. Reverently, so deep that your knee almost touches the floor. 

“Sister,” he nods. “I have sins I wish to confess - a troubled mind I wish to unburden.” 

You curtsy once more, though not as low this time.

“I am not ordained to hear confessions, but I should be happy to fetch a septon - “

“No,” the prince says. “I will speak to no one but you.” 

What he demands is a breach of the rules, and a cruel thing to ask of you, but there is not much to be done about it. You can hardly refuse a prince of the realm, and what if he tells his mother that you were unhelpful? After all, it is your sacred duty to comfort and guide the faithful. To lead them on the path to righteousness. 

So you nod, draping your veil over your head as you both sit down on your little bench. Right beside one another, so close that your legs almost touch. A proper septa would say confess, and may the Father judge you justly, but that is not appropriate for you, so you merely look down at your folded hands and wait for the prince to speak. 

“I am plagued by impure thoughts,” he begins. 

The colour drains from your face in an instant. Oh, not this. 

Anything else, you do believe you could handle. Envy, drunkenness, greed, gambling, even violent offences, perhaps. Anything but this. But you remain calm; force yourself to keep your composure as you speak. 

“All young men have impure thoughts. It is perfectly natural.”

From the corner of your eye, it looks as though the prince smiles ever so slightly. 

“Of course,” he nods. “But mine are by nature nefarious, because the lady I desire is a chaste and pious woman… a maiden, and justly proud of her innocence. She would be distraught if she knew the wickedness she inspires.”

You feel yourself blushing. Although you are sufficiently educated on the matter, speaking of such things makes you feel ashamed and uncomfortable. As it would most young women. Confession or not, nothing about this conversation is appropriate, and you want nothing more than to be done with it and return to quiet contemplation. You keep your eyes cast down, and you are as curt as you dare when you answer. 

“Then you should not sully her, My Prince, even in your thoughts. You should pray to the Smith for strength, or to the Warrior if you prefer, and occupy yourself with noble pursuits. Prayer, studies, and so forth.”

“Oh, but I do,” the prince says gravely. “I devote my every hour to noble pursuits. And yet time and time again I sully her, and my own hand too in the process -  yes, I must confess that I have sinned exceedingly, in both thought and deed. These urges of mine are so unbearable, I simply must relieve myself…” He pauses to look at you coolly, his brows drawn together in a disapproving frown. “You look quite pale, Septa, is my confession too scandalous for you? I should hope the Faith would not admit a novice so unfit for her position…”

“Of course not,” you quickly mutter, though in truth, you are mortified. This is far beyond your station and skill. Not only is the matter highly delicate, but you must also carefully choose your words so as to not offend a member of the royal family. And one with a - supposedly - unfortunate temper at that. 

“It is not for me to command a prince,” you begin, “but it is my duty to remind you that the Faith condemns such practices - surely you know that by indulging your urges, you will only make them stronger.”

“I have tried to refrain from it,” the prince laments. “But even then, she haunts me…  at night, I dream that I lie on top of her - that I spread her thighs and press her body to my own. And these dreams are so vivid, so terribly arousing, they often cause me to - forgive me, Sister - emit my seed.” He sighs deeply, and turns his face away, his shoulders tense; his handsome features full of torment. “A rather shameful predicament, for a grown man - is it not?” 

Perhaps, you think, but a common one nonetheless, and not something he should be chastised for. You know perfectly well that there are some functions of a man’s body that are beyond his control, as do the gods who made it so. It is best not to dwell on it. 

“My Prince,” you say instead, with what little confidence you can muster, “ - with your permission, I would offer you this advice: if you cannot restrain yourself, and if you care for this lady, then you should court and wed her.” You fiddle nervously with your dress, lowering your voice to barely more than a whisper. “It is a wholesome thing, for spouses to give their bodies to each other - for a man to make love to his wife…”  

The prince hums, either in agreement or contemplation, you can’t tell. But you hope he will take your words to heart, and make this irresistible woman his wife. If the mere sight of her can stir such passion, then he would surely grow to love her deeply, and their union would be happy and prosperous. Blessed by the gods.

- Or maybe not.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” the prince says. Slowly, thoughtfully. “Because you see, my lady is a septa - a novice, as it were…” 

His words trail off, and his hand reaches to caress your face, right by the edge of your veil, where a strand of hair has loosened from its pin. 

You recoil at once, springing from your seat to look at him with shock and horror. 

“This is highly improper - “

“I have thought of nothing but you,” he exclaims, impassioned, rising quickly to reach for you once more, “ - since the day I saw you, I have wanted no one else - ”

Again you manage to evade his embrace, but the prince is tall, and his legs are long and agile. Each one of his strides is worth two of yours, and when you back away he follows, stepping ever closer until you are backed up against a pillar.

Oh how you wish that it had only been a thief come to rob the sept. You could have easily escaped out the little hidden door by the dias; let them take whatever riches they could carry.  There is only silver here, and the Faith has no shortage of that.

The prince is after something far more precious. 

“Don’t touch me - ” you plead, feeling your pulse quicken, the hair rise on the back of your neck. He is too near, moving to loom over you, intimidating and imposing, and so tall that he must bend to brush his nose against your hair. 

“It is a waste,” he murmurs. “That such beauty should only belong to the gods.”

You should flee. You should defend your virtue. Maids and ladies, harlots and tavern girls, all women know to protect themselves, to kick where a man is the weakest, to scratch, bite, shout, make a racket. There are guards patrolling the square outside, and septons sleeping nearby in their cells - if you were loud enough, someone would hear you and come to your aid. 

But at what cost, when your assailant is a prince? 

You dare not risk it, so you stand frozen in place, too frightened to push him away, too frightened to even look at him as he gropes your body, touching it in ways that it has never been, and should never be touched. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other trails over your dress, feeling your shape underneath the fabric. Your stomach, your hips, your bottom, and especially your breasts. 

He cups them with both hands, kneading and massaging them hard, pressing his fingers into your flesh.

“I would take you right here,” he breathes. “Against this very pillar, for all your gods to see - ” 

The blasphemy, the shameless vulgarity - you gasp, and at the sound, the prince chuckles faintly. 

“You said yourself it is a wholesome thing…”

“For husbands and wives -” you squeak, “please, you mustn’t hurt me!“

“Never,” he says, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, over his heart, as if to reassure you. “If you would only oblige me, I swear I will be gentle…”

You shake your head, but it does not dissuade him. He kisses your hair, your cheeks, the shell of your ear, touching his lips to every little sliver of exposed skin. Not just your face and neck, but your forearms too, your wrists, the insides of your elbows. Anywhere that lets him truly feel you. Feel the rapid beat of your pulse; the warmth and softness of a woman’s body.

And as he touches you, you feel him. His manhood, stiff against your hip when he presses himself against you, moaning softly at the feeling. It is a most intimate sound, and you are ashamed to realise that your body instinctively responds to it; to the closeness, the touch of a man. You feel warm in your chest, and wet between your legs - unnerving, and so at odds with the panic that still grips you, with the tears that prickle in your eyes. 

“Please don’t - ” you whimper, just as his teeth graze your jaw, drawing a single, involuntary sigh from your lips. One that spurs him on to swiftly yank the veil off your head and discard it, fully exposing your hair and neck. 

He pulls back to look at you, your neatly pinned tresses, your smooth throat and collarbones. Your beauty that he has long wished to admire. 

“Like an angel,” he says softly, longingly, taking your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “A little angel - the Maiden in the flesh - “

“That is a blasphemous thing to say,” you sniffle. 

It only makes him laugh, and before you can say anything else, he tilts your face up so he can press his mouth to yours. 

No one has ever kissed you before. Many boys have wanted to, but none were ever allowed the privilege. You always knew you did not want to be a wife. That you had a different calling. 

It is a very strange sensation, this kiss. Hot, wet, and sticky. You do not return it, and yet the prince is undeterred, parting your lips softly but insistently, just enough to slip his tongue inside. It gives him pleasure, even when your mouth is slack and unresponsive - you can tell from his blissful sighs, and from the indecent way he moves his hips, rubbing the prominent bulge in his trousers against you. He is so entranced by your mouth and your body that you feel a treacherous sense of relief, thinking to yourself that if this is how he wants to gratify himself - by licking your tongue and humping against your hip - you will let him. No real harm has been done to your virtue, and the gods will understand you had no choice. Already you are silently saying your prayers, to the Warrior for courage, the Mother for compassion, the Father for leniency  -

But you are cruelly interrupted when the prince draws back and begins to loosen the closure of his breeches. 

“No - oh no, no - ,” you shriek, but as you try to wriggle from his grasp, his face hardens and his gentle touch becomes like a vice. Rough and unyielding, holding you in place. 

“You must forgive me,” he rasps, his gaze dark with lust, his nostrils flaring, “ - for I can no longer deprive myself of what I so desire...”

He is so much stronger than you. With an impeccably polished boot he shoves your feet apart, his one hand pinning your arms behind your back, the other hiking up your skirts, determined, deaf to your frantic pleas. 

“You don’t understand, I must remain chaste!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, “I know the workings of the Faith, you’ve taken no solemn vows yet - “

“No, I have, I have!” you cry. “I pledged myself to the Maiden when I was a girl!”

It is the truth, but the prince does not care. He silences you with another desperate kiss, crushing his face to yours, reaching to hook his hand under your knee and lift your leg. He has you trapped, pinned between his body and the stone column, and you can claw at him until your hands bleed, it makes no difference. Your dress is bunched up, your legs forcibly parted, your most intimate secrets laid bare to be violated. A great sin, made even greater by the circumstances, and yet the gods have abandoned you, left you here to suffer. 

They must be occupied elsewhere, and the statues too stand motionless on their plinths, with their tranquil faces, staring blankly into the distance as though deliberately blind to your tragedy. 

To the hand that worms its way underneath your smallclothes. The nails that dig into the back of your neck, holding your head in place. The mouth that swallows up your sobs until he is forced to break the kiss so he can reach between your bodies and finish unlacing his breeches. 

You gasp for breath, looking up and straight at him, your eyes wet and pleading, your lip trembling. 

“Don’t ruin me, please - I beg you, don’t take from me what can never be replaced - “

The prince’s hand hesitates on your thigh. His one eye flickers between your two, between the tears that flow uncontrollably down your cheeks; your little hands clenched into fists against his chest.

For a split second there’s a shadow of something softer on his face, a strange draw around his mouth, and then he curses and releases your leg. And you bolt, without thinking, ducking under his arm to sprint towards the door and safety. 

You manage all of two steps before the prince catches you and pins you to the pillar once more. 

“Not yet - ” he orders, slipping a hand down the front of his trousers to finally free his member from its confines. He cradles it at the base to proudly show it off before he begins to stroke himself, shamelessly and urgently, while you look on. At once frightened and sinfully curious. 

You have never seen it before. The masculine organ. Only in drawings, of which some were intended to educate young women, and others were of a much lewder nature. The prince’s manhood does look much like those anatomical illustrations, only it is bigger in person than you had imagined. Hard and swollen with need. It fits perfectly in his fist, and the skin glides back to reveal the head, which is thick and meaty, and a dark purple red. It almost looks as though it should be painful for him, having it filled and engorged in such a way. Having it stretched to be so big. But of course you know that is not the case. And even if you didn’t, his gasp of pleasure would have made it very clear. 

He reaches for your wrist, tugging it down between his legs, and you are quick to look away when he closes your fingers around it, with his own hand on top. Somehow, you reason that if you keep your eyes averted, it is not as sinful. Not as deserving of punishment. 

But you can still feel it. In your palm, against your clammy skin. Warm, and pulsing as he squeezes your fingers tight around the shaft, moving them from the base to the tip and back down again, using your hand to pleasure himself. Slowly at first, but as his arousal grows he quickens the pace, moving your hand only over the tip of his member, massaging the bulbous head with quick movements. All the while groping at your chest.

And you let him do it. All of it, resigning yourself to be used at his will and pleasure. It is the best and safest course of action now, and all you can do is bear it. You keep your sobs inside, and your eyes cast down, staring mindlessly at the patterns in the stone floor until the prince’s hand seizes your jaw. 

“Look at me,” he commands through gritted teeth, running his thumb over your mouth, pressing against your lips. “Open - suck, use your tongue - “

You do as he says, wanting so desperately to just be done with it - once he has finished he will surely let you go. The thought prompts you to suck on his fingers with increasing fervour, taking them deep into your mouth, running your tongue along the length of them, along his knuckles; making him gasp at the feeling.  

“Fuck, like that - gods yes,” he moans, letting go of your hand to lean against the pillar for support, his eye falling closed, his hips making shallow, instinctive thrusts.

You continue with the same movements, up and down over his manhood, trying to mimic exactly what he did before, whilst still sucking on his fingers, too. Letting him feel your soft mouth and your warm lips; your little wet tongue caressing his skin. You haven’t a clue as to what you are supposed to be doing, and there is no grace or skill to your licks, but each swirl of your tongue makes the prince moan regardless. He would probably much rather feel this attention somewhere else, but clearly he has the wits to know that shoving his member into an unwilling mouth is not a wise idea. So he contents himself with this. 

And thankfully, it does not take long before your efforts are rewarded.

When you choke back a mewl his hips jerk forward, and his hand flies down to close around yours again, guiding you to squeeze him harder and faster. His jaw goes slack, and his manhood stiffens even more, and even though you are inexperienced, you know what it means. You can feel it, feel his sac tighten, feel him twitch in your hand as semen travels up his shaft. He bends to lean his forehead against yours, and finally, finally, he spurts, moaning with pleasure as he empties himself onto your hand, his seed pulsing out in hot, wet squirts. Soiling not only your skin and your dress, but your conscience too; your virtue, honour and dignity.

And at last it is over. 

The prince slumps forwards against you, hiding his face in your neck. His body trembles with the final waves of his rapture, and he brushes his fingers over your hair in a strangely intimate way, a tender way. As though you were lovers. 

In a sense, now, you suppose you are. 

Before he leaves you he quickly tidies his clothes, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and tucking his shirt into his trousers. And once he has made himself presentable, he retrieves your veil too. Brushing it off with a gloved hand and draping it over your head once more. 

“Thank you, Sister,” he says sweetly, cradling your face to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I feel much more at ease now.” 

No sooner have the doors closed behind him before you fall to your knees by the Maiden’s altar to beg for her forgiveness. 

Part 2: The Devil You Know

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @helaelaemond, @targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost.

[moonstruckme]

Hii

I have a knee injury right now and it's really annoying cause I'm a dancer and I can barely walk right now let alone dance and I really wanted a fic if that's okay. So reader (like me) is really annoyed about her injury and Sirius or James (I don't mind which one) help her. Could you also include something about them piggybacking her up the stairs (cause I cannot go up stairs right now without dying in pain)

Thanks in advance sweets

Thanks for requesting lovely, hope you're feeling better!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 481 words

James comes into the living room and catches you red-handed with the broom and dustpan. 

He freezes, setting his hands on his hips and releasing a breathless guffaw. “Good lord, you’re tenacious.” 

“I thought,” you wheedle, “that since you’re working so hard mopping the kitchen, I could sweep in here so it’s easier when you’re ready to do this part.” 

“And I thought,” counters James, crossing the space between you in a few long strides, “that we agreed you’d rest and let me handle it.” He makes up for the snark with a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before pushing you down onto the couch by your hips. “Turn over the broom, angel.” 

You sigh, holding it out for him. “Agreed is a bit of a stretch.” 

“Your knee and I seem to be in agreement.” He stamps another conciliatory kiss on your head, firm and ardent. “I can see on your face that it’s hurting you. Just give it a bit, stop pushing yourself so hard.” 

“As if you get to talk,” you snipe after him as he goes back to the kitchen. He’d pulled a muscle in his shoulder a few weeks ago, and he’d still insisted on carrying all your groceries himself and lifting heavy things down from tall shelves like recovery was some sort of competition. 

James pretends not to hear you. 

You sigh, big and loud and dramatic, and you hear his quiet laughter from the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” he calls. “Suck it up. I never do my fair share of the chores anyway.” 

“Will you at least bring me the laundry to fold?” 

A beat, and you hear him swing open the door to where the dryer has just finished. “Sure,” he agrees. 

A minute later, your boyfriend is pouring a basket of warm laundry over you on the couch. You smile contentedly, bathed in warmth and softness, until the warm clothes on your abdomen remind you of another concern.

“Um, James?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

James sets down the laundry basket, dark brows weaving together bemusedly. “What for?” 

“I have to pee.” 

And the toilet is upstairs.

“Oh.” His expression clears. As much as you sort of wish he would treat this part like a chore, he loves doing this for you. “No worries.” 

He turns around and squats down. Doesn’t even give you the opportunity to hop onto his back, only grabs your thighs and straightens back up with a quiet grunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting so you’re wrapped more securely around him. 

As James starts up the stairs, he squeezes one of your thighs teasingly in his big hand. “Hope you weren’t holding it on my account. You know you don’t need to apologize for asking for a lift, I don’t mind.” 

“No, I know,” you admit. “I think you may like it a bit too much, actually.” 

Your boyfriend only hums. “Mayhaps.” 

[vonlycaonwife]

May I please have a smexy von lycoan x maid!reader, (fem please) where the new maid is a clutz and gets on Von's nerves on accident. and then one day he loses his composure and decides to 'punish' her and maybe teach her a lesson about proper serving etiquette. please scenario, i would like to hear your thoughts. ;)

I know who you are you sonuva- ANYWAY yeah I can do that.....lord help me

Female reader! Also very ooc!

Warnings: Smut, breeding, face fucking, knotting, dubious consent, unbalanced power dynamics (boss/worker like), severely ooc, partially written before game release

He has just about had it.

A few months ago the agency had just hired a new employee, one that Lycaon had to supervise. She seemed very sweet and excited to do her job, something he enjoyed seeing since those at Victoria Housekeeping Co. must have a good head on their shoulders to do their job.

But then it turned out she was even more of a clutz than Corin, something that's baffled almost everyone.

An often occurrence would be her cleaning something to perfection, only to end up breaking said thing. Another would be her always burning whatever it was she was baking, or adding too much of something. Even during hollow raids she and others end up getting hurt by her own weapon rather than by ethereal. Mainly the only thing she can do is serve tea and even that's a fifty-fifty on if she'll drop the cup in your lap or not. It was astounding how many things went wrong when she was near, though she was always apologetic over every mess up.

And today Lycaon had to scold her once again over the continuous trip ups, though he has not done that yet since the woman was late for their meeting again. 

It was bad enough for him that he had to deal with his own body that was determined to start a rut, but combine that with the fact that the woman that irritated him to no end also had a scent that drove him mad. He usually had better control over himself, but every time something happened that involved her he would have to steel his nerves or otherwise he would go into a full rut. It annoyed him to no end. Though he supposed it was why he was harsher on her than he was on anyone else, as much as he hated to admit. Others had brought it up to him about his behavior, but he would rather be harsher than act like a feral dog. 

"You're late." He huffed once he heard the door open, he turned his eyes to meet the doe like ones of the woman. He held back a growl as her scent entered his nose, quickly placing his hands onto the desk to keep himself from tearing into his uniform. She flinched at his tone, brows pinched in anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to run here to be on time and...I bumped into someone and caused another mess. I cleaned it up though! So it's no worries!" She reassured, waving her hands around in an attempt to placate his wrath. She tried to smile even when the atmosphere began to grow cold, something that irritated the man even more.

"Another one? How many has that been today?" He asked angrily, his claws just barely scratching into the wood of his desk. Her scent was driving him mad, he had to keep his mind off of it by directing his growing frustrations onto her. 

The woman flinched again, fear rising within her. While she was used to being scolded, this kind of anger aimed towards her was new and frightening. At most the wolf was only ever annoyed or frustrated, but now she felt like she was about to be eaten alive.

"It seems you need another lesson." He said, suddenly calm. At least what she thought was calm, but at meeting his eyes once again all she could see was unbridled anger. Along with something else she couldn't discern. As he stood she froze in place, her hands gripping onto her skirt tightly her knuckles almost turned white. The two kept eye contact as the large man walked his way around his desk, ignoring the claw marks, before standing directly in front of the woman. "We've had this conversation so many times, but it seems you're not getting it.”

"I-I'm sorry Sir! I'll do better, I promise!” She begged, straining her neck to look up at him. While she wasn't that short, she always had a hard time not cramping her neck whenever she had to look at Lycaon. She shivered under his gaze, steeling her nerves so she wouldn't step back in fear. While she is able to handle most things, right now it almost felt like she was prey staring into the face of a predator. “Really I will.”

“You say that…” He started, before suddenly growling with a ferocity that terrified her. She suddenly backed up, her mind running over what options she had, before her back ran into the door behind her. She quickly turned around, her flight instincts blaring danger in her head, attempting to open the door before she felt hands slam onto the surface beside her. Frozen in place she could only be aware of her thoughts screaming at her to run, before it all stopped when she felt his breath hit her neck. “And yet you never seem to improve.”

Lycaon can only berate himself as his own body had seemed to be taken over by his instincts. Just the sight of her looking up at him with her wide eyes had made him mad, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be closer to her. Her scent was overriding his sense of smell, the feel of her shaking in fear under him was embarrassingly delicious. He didn't think of himself to be cruel, and yet he relished in her fear. His hands were shaking against the door, claws scratching at the surface while he barely tried to reign in himself.

“Do you even know how much you irritate me? How annoying it is to have to have these talks with you every damn week?” He growled out, his nose brushing against her hair as he spoke. His claws dug deeper into the wooden surface as he tried to keep himself from touching her with them. He knew if he did that he couldn't go back, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together like he barely is at this moment. His sharp ears heard her gasp as the sound of wood splitting rang out. “Do you even know how hard it is to keep myself contained with that smell of yours?”

“I-”

“Shut up.” He brushed his teeth against the skin of her neck, groaning as he heard her whimper in fear. But what also caught his attention was that her scent somehow became even more potent, making him realize something. He slowly released his hands from the wooden surface, giving them a quick glance for any potential splinters, before dropping to his knees. His hands lifted up her skirt, releasing an enormous wave of her scent. He quickly moved his face closer to her, his nose brushing against her core.

“S-Sir!” She yelped, her hands moving to try and move him away before he could realize. But she stopped when he heard him growl, ordering her to stay in place. Understanding he figured out how she was suddenly turned on by the sudden turn of events, she obeyed his order. She stared at the patterns of the wood, trying to keep her mind off the fact that her superior was suddenly sniffing her like a horny animal. Not that she minded too much, as she had developed a small crush on him since gaining her job at the company. 

“Lesson one, speak when spoken to.” He said, his hands gently caressing her thighs as he nudged them to spread apart.

“B-But-”

“Quiet.” He ordered, before pressing his nose against her once more. He could feel his entire body shiver as the woman's scent flooded his senses. His ears could pick up the noises she tried to repress, causing him to huff in amusement. He used one hand to move the thin fabric that separated him from her bare skin aside, making it possible to place his long tongue along her folds.

“Ah! S-Sir wait-”

“I said, be quiet.” He grunted, adding a growl to emphasize his order. He felt her freeze from his tone as he swiped his tongue over her once more. The taste that spread on his tongue was like heaven to him, completely making him forget the world around him as he pushed his face deeper to taste more.

As his tongue entered her, her hands quickly flew to cover her mouth to prevent any noises from escaping. Her forehead leaned against the door as she tried to even out her breathing, her legs began to shake as she felt his tongue reach deeper. She could feel his hands gripping tighten as a way to keep her still, his claws digging into her skin in a way that brought no pain to her. 

Soon she began to feel that familiar coil within her tighten, causing her to grip onto her face harden. She could feel his tongue quicken its pace as her walls constricted, her whole body shook as she felt that coil ready to burst. Only to be met with a sudden emptiness causing her to quickly turn her head around to see him stand up. She wanted to ask why he stopped, before she suddenly was lifted into the air. Squealing at the movement, she wiggled in his grip before she found herself placed onto one of the plush chairs. After blinking a bit to understand what had happened, she looked up to see his piercing red eye staring down back at her.

“Lesson two, all employees must fulfill their tasks with perfect proficiency.” Lycaon barely spoke, adjusting his belt before pushing down his slacks to reveal his hardening member. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his size, her thighs squeezing together in both mild fear and anticipation. Wordlessly she adjusted herself in the seat and hesitantly wrapped one hand around him, slowly moving it along the shaft. She closed her eyes in embarrassment, but a gentle began to pet her head, making her meet his eyes once more. “Just relax.”

His voice was very gentle, putting her in a shock before she could realize he removed her hand and pressed the head of his cock against her slightly parted lips. She almost jumped at the contact before that hand gripped her hair to keep her in place. The low growl he released was the only warning he would give her. Shivering she widened her opened mouth and slowly gave small licks, earning a hum in approval. Soon she leaned forward, bringing the head into her mouth and sucking. Her hands were gripping onto the skirt of her uniform, knuckles turning white as she tried her best to keep her mouth wide enough to accommodate his size. 

Quickly the thirian took charge and began to move his hips slowly, pushing his length further and further down her throat. As time went on his pace became rougher and faster, causing tears to start welling in her eyes. But she made no complaint, only kept her eyes shut as she focused on breathing through her nose. Embarrassingly she could feel the spot on the cushion seat below her become damp, making her whine against him. Though she could barely hear herself over the growls the man was releasing. Soon she could feel him pulsate against her tongue, but before he could cum, he released himself from her mouth. 

Before she could question anything, she suddenly felt him grab her by the waist and all but slam her onto the desk. But nothing happened, he only stared into her eyes. It’s as if he was hesitant to do anything else, his claws gripping onto with the same intensity as earlier. The two stayed in their fixed position before one finally spoke.

“Do you want this?” The words barely came out of the thirian, more so only able to leave past his lips with his pants.

“W-What?”

“I’m asking if you truly want this, because if this goes further then we can’t go back.” He slowly explains, like he was in a daze.

“Oh…” She blinks, her muddled brain struggling to fully comprehend what he was saying. But once it settled itself within her thoughts did all the muddiness completely disappear. “O-Oh! Y-Yeah I am! I’ve uh…”

Her face flushes as she attempts to get her thoughts in order. “I’ve already…had some feelings for you so…if you don’t-eep!”

His lips slam onto hers, interrupting her words. She lets out a surprised squeal, tensing in his grip, before relaxing and wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned as his tongue explored her mouth, swallowing her noises as he reached one hand to rub circles around her clit. Soon she felt the tip of his cock nudge at her entrance, causing her to tense once more.

“Relax.” She could barely hear him say as he slowly thrust himself inside. Her insides almost felt like they were on fire from the sheer intense heat of his length. When he finally completely filled her, tears were running down her face as she tried not to move and adjust. Lycaon trailed soft kisses all over her face as he waited for her to give the go ahead. Soon she began to relax, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Reading her body languages, Lycaon began to move his hips at a slow pace. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on not losing control, the way he could only smell her scent and the fact it was all over him made him almost go insane. The one hand still holding onto the desk tightened around the wood, close to splinting it like what he did with the wall earlier. He had moved his other hand to her clothed waist, keeping her in place as soon began to speed up. Her whines rang out of the room, adding fuel to the fire of his loosening restraint.

As he focused on controlling his instincts, he somehow didn’t notice her fingers settling into the fur at the back of his neck. She gave it a quick pull, not too harsh to pull out any fur, making him groan in pain. He opened his eyes to meet her own, glaring down at her intensely. He leaned down, growling out harsh words of disapproval. But the lustful gleam he saw in her eyes and her whiny begging was what finally drove him to let go. Slamming his hips against hers with wild abandonment, his teeth gently biting at the exposed skin of her neck while his hands grabbed onto her legs to move them on top of his shoulders. 

He was taking it all in, the sound of her moans and high pitch screams, the taste of her sweat and tears on his tongue, and the smell of their scents mingling together along with the growing smell of sex. He even could hear his own groans and growls, though his focus moved quickly to the feeling of his swelling knot enlarging. His instincts were urging him to push it in right this instant, but he had some restraint left to wait. 

Meanwhile she was overwhelmed by his rough pace, tears flowing down her face as she was slammed with wave after wave of pleasure. She could barely think, her mind only focused on the feeling of him filling her to the brim. But soon she could feel that familiar coil within her, tightening at such an alarming rate. Her voice began to break as it reached a higher pitch than her vocal cords were able to handle, her hands clutching onto his fur in search of anything to stabilize herself. She tried to let any words out, but was once more interrupted by him kissing her. She could only moan into his mouth as she felt something bigger push into her. Her eyes widened in shock as his knot was thrusted in, her body tensing and squirming as the rush of pleasure flooded her veins once more. Released from the kiss, she could only whine as her insides were filled with his hot seed.

“Wait.” He said, gently keeping her in place as she squirmed. “Give it a few minutes.”

She nodded in response, having no energy for words. He chuckled at that, amused at her state. Once he was able to remove himself, he shushed her as she whined from the loss. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, as her body finally relaxed after everything. She barely felt him move her to sit back in the chair she had stained, hearing him whisper about returning with cleaning rags and other necessary items. She wasn't able to respond before sleep finally overtook her.

She wasn't able to see the soft he gave her, nor did she even realize he had kissed her forehead. He quickly made himself suitable again before quietly leaving through the door, locking it to make sure no one would walk in on the mess he had to clean up. Though he's sure he would walk into an even bigger mess once the woman wakes up and tries to clean. But he isn't too upset about that fact now.

Since it just means he has an opportunity to teach her another “lesson.”

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (15/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, humiliation, sexual tension, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He thought that the pain he felt in his eye socket as a child was a torture, however, the inability to take the woman who aroused his lust when she was at his fingertips proved just as unbearable.

At one moment he was furious with her for refusing him – as he pressed her against the stone walls of the Red Keep he could clearly feel under his fingers that her womanhood was leaking all over with desire – only to find later that he admired her self-denial and strength of will.

He thought that if her desire to remain his faithful and devoted wife was as strong, he would be satisfied.

The time of his greatest trial came to him in the evenings, when he lay alone in the cold, empty bed – he could feel the tension in his loins pulsing through his veins, his lower abdomen and erection, swollen and impatient, knowing that his relief was asleep a few steps from his chamber, across the hall.

He closed his eyes then, fighting with himself, not wanting her to look at him the way his mother would.

With sadness and regret.

So he waited, dying each day at the thought of her bare body, at the thought that she longed for him – he could see it in her gaze, hear it in her hitched, heavy breath as his lips brushed her neck, as he grasped her sweet breasts in his hands, wanting to feel her even for a moment.

He knew she was his, but he couldn't have her.

So that's what madness is, he mused.

He was relieved to hear that his grandsire, to his surprise, had no objections regarding his chosen one.

"She is a wise girl, bound to you with her heart and mind. Both she and her dragon will be of great use to us. With her help, we might be able to pull at least some of the Lords of the Vale over to our side – they are more likely to listen to someone of their blood, someone who knows and understands their concerns, who will not threaten them with dragonfire like Daemon." Said Otto, sitting beside him at the table in his chamber – he nodded, looking to the side with an expression devoid of emotion, not wanting his grandfather to see any sign that he felt satisfaction at his words.

She is bound to you with her heart and mind.

He felt shame and contentment that Otto thought he was not indifferent to her – he believed his grandsire was capable of seeing more than he did.

The truth was that he feared to hear something from him that would destroy her image in his eyes, deprive him of the object of trust and affection that he so desperately needed.

"The King is awake, but he is in great pain, so we have given him large amounts of poppy milk to ease his suffering." Said the Maester.

He hummed, towering over his brother's bed with his head cocked to one side.

"Mmm. See to it that he can spend the next few days in the comfort of blissful sleep." He said, glancing at the Maester, who swallowed hard and nodded, understanding what he meant.

He couldn't regain the sobriety of his mind until the nuptials officially took place.

After that, their marriage, performed in front of crowds of witnesses, united by the gods themselves, would not be able to be dissolved by anyone.

He also decided to make minor changes in the Small Council, wanting to surround himself only with people who actually wished their family victory.

His mother, though he deluded himself into thinking it would be different, was not one of them, trying to use the weakness he had for her against him, as did Larys Strong, who, true to his betrothed's words, poured poison into his ears.

Stripping Larys of his function was easy and gave him great satisfaction, with his Hand, meaning his grandfather, taking over his role.

He knew, however, that the conversation with his mother would be difficult for him and he prepared for it for a long time.

"You have served the Kingdom faithfully for many years. It is time for you to rest." He said after ordering her to stay, once the Small Council meeting was over, looking ahead with a blank stare, knowing that if he looked at her face he would feel something he didn't want to.

He swallowed hard as her figure leaned over him, as her familiar, smooth hand touched his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin.

Why couldn't she bestow such a touch on him when he needed it?

Why did he only deserve it when she wanted to soften and manipulate him, exactly like Sylvi?

"Has your loss not yet been sufficiently avenged?" She asked him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat – he looked at her, into her warm brown eyes, in which he so longed to see recognition.

However, all he saw was pain.

She suffered looking at him, at her own son, at what he had become.

Was he really such a bad person?

He lowered his gaze and placed his hand on hers, stroking her skin with his thumb, wanting to remember this moment, his mother showing him something he could call tenderness, something he would be able to cling to for years to come, deprived again of her closeness and warm words.

"This is my final decision."

His mother swallowed hard and took her hand from his cheek – he seemed to feel an almost physical pain when she did so, when an unpleasant chill surrounded his skin where her familiar fingers had been only moments ago, as if someone had forcibly torn him from her safe, warm womb.

After all, it wasn't his fault that he had been born.

"Who will take my place? Another man pushing for war at any cost?" She asked with a disappointment and bitterness from which his lower lip trembled, his stomach clenched so tightly that he found it difficult to take a deep breath.

"My betrothed."

The sight of her serene, calm expression at his grandfather's side was refreshing – her gaze, unlike that of his mother, was filled with warmth and trust.

He thought with shame that he had given her a seat in his council just to look at her.

However, as he found out moments later, he had judged himself too harshly.

"Everything is ready for the nuptials and a small wedding, which will of course take place in the Throne Room. The ceremony itself will not be grand and lavish, but I think everyone sitting around this table understands that in a situation of war we cannot afford to wantonly empty our treasury." Otto said, and he shifted his gaze from his grandfather to her – she smiled lightly when their gazes met, giving him a look full of reassurance that pomp was the last thing she wanted.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his chest at the thought, the realisation that she shared his values, his love of simplicity and, of course, unabashed modesty.

His grandfather, hearing no objection, continued.

"On that day, all the guards and sentries will be on duty – such occasions are always a good opportunity for the enemy to attack, because they take advantage of the chaos that then prevails. That's why we can't afford to deviate from the day's schedule and changes – I've also appointed my few trusted men to keep an eye on the cooks and how the food and drink is prepared."

"Nevertheless, I think it will be appropriate for me to try both the wine and anything else the Prince will want to taste." He heard her voice and looked at her, shocked.

The thought that she cared for him, that she was so concerned that someone would try to take his life by trickery and poison him, touched him.

Otto smiled under his breath and nodded.

"I appreciate your concern for my grandson, my Lady, however, I will assign a person to try the dishes for the two of you. We do not wish for anyone's death during this joyous occasion." He said softly, clearly pleased as he was with her faithfulness and devotion.

"No." She said, looking at his grandfather, then at him. "My father, and for sure all of Dragonstone and their allies, think this wedding is a further part of my abduction, independent of my free will. They will continue to spread rumours and stories that I am imprisoned by the Prince and that he, in his cruelty, forced me to become his wife. Many Lords will be present during the ceremony, and word will spread through the Kingdom like the wind. Let them, as well as others present, see the two of us forming a united front that evening, let them see me try my husband's wine."

His grandfather raised an eyebrow and readjusted himself in his chair, as surprised as he was by her words and how thoughtful they were.

"It is an intriguing approach to the matter, I admit – indeed, a demonstration of unity and solidarity can only strengthen support for our cause among the Lords. I will leave the final decision to you, my Prince." Said Otto, and he mused, looking at her with a piercing gaze, playing with the gold coin between his fingers.

"I appreciate my betrothed's devotion, however, I will not allow her to endanger herself – instead, as a symbol of unity and union, I propose that we fly over King's Landing together the next day, showing our might and strength at the same time." He said calmly – his cousin merely sighed and nodded, throwing him a gentle look indicating that his rejection of her idea did not cause her any pain.

He swallowed hard, feeling his manhood pulsate aggressively in his breeches, screaming with longing, having her at his fingertips.

After speaking to his mother, he felt disheartened, and she was not by his side.

His desperation caused him to do something he was sure he would never do in his life, considering it to be behaviour beneath his dignity.

"Accompany me on my stroll through the royal gardens. I want to breathe some fresh air and take advantage of the good weather." He hummed, passing her as he, like the others, moved towards the door after the Small Council meeting was over.

He knew she was surprised, but she moved after him immediately, having trouble keeping up with him now that she was wearing a gown, making it difficult for her to move freely.

He wanted to hide between the trees as quickly as possible, so that no servants or guards would notice them, not wishing to be the cause of mockery and gossip later.

Again.

He slowed down as they finally stepped out into the part of the Keep surrounded by shrubbery that formed a plethora of alleys – he took the only one he knew, which was the main one, hearing behind him that she followed him with the quiet rattle of stones beneath her feet.

He put his hands behind his back and looked at her over his shoulder – she smiled at him, walking a few steps behind him.

He stopped and she did the same, her head cocked in happy curiosity.

"Don't I even deserve to have you walking by my side? That kind of closeness is unkind to the gods too?" He asked dryly, frustrated and dying of longing, needing her like never before, feeling rejected and alone.

He swallowed hard, feeling remorseful when he saw that her expression changed, as if he had slapped her in the face, her eyebrows arched in pain, her eyes big and sad, her lips parted slightly in surprise full of terror.

"– n-no –" She muttered, playing with her fingers on her womb, coming closer to him with a quiet rustling of her gown. "– usually outside of our quarters you prefer it when I give you space – if you desire me to be close to you, I will –"

He felt the sudden wave of rage and grief that had surged through his body weaken, leaving him with a sense of sadness and emptiness.

He didn't want to ask or beg for such things, on the other hand, in fact, when he knew someone might see them, he preferred not to give anyone reason to comment on their behaviour.

He himself didn't know what he felt and needed, and he required her to understand him and his needs more than he did, he thought with shame.

Seeing how tense he was and hearing his silence she took a few steps towards him, standing so close that he felt her wonderful scent tease his nostrils, her delicate hand touched his chest and then was joined by another, his heart beating hard under her fingers.

He dared to look at her, and it was a mistake – her gaze was filled with a heat that both terrified him and brought him to the state where he felt like throwing himself at her, pulling her skirt up and taking her like a whore, wanting nothing more than to fill her with his seed.

"– may I kiss you, my Prince? –" She asked in a trembling voice, being formal at the same time, afraid to frustrate him, not knowing what behaviour he expected of her.

He couldn't answer anything – his hands simply caught her suddenly at the waist and pulled her closer so that her body slammed against his, her sweet moan echoing in his throat as he sank into her fleshy, luscious lips with a sigh of relief.

He murmured as her fingers stroked his jaw and neck, and her lips responded tentatively to his caress, showering him with lazy, deep, loud kisses. He felt her whole body tremble as the tip of his tongue ran invitingly over her upper lip, her hands clenched on his shoulders as if she were struggling with herself.

Something between a groan and a murmur escaped his lips when he felt her slick tongue come out to meet his in a slow, wet lick.

He clasped his hands in her hair and on the material of her gown, pressing his completely hard erection against her stomach, ready to take her here, in this place, on the grass, under the sun.

However, as soon as he grabbed the ribbon tying her dress at the back, she pulled away from him and shook her head, breathing loudly, her cheeks pink with emotion, her lips puffy and glistening from his caresses, her gaze filled with nothing but desire and lust.

"– no – please, lēkia – it's only three more days –" She muttered pleadingly, and he pressed his lips together, feeling rejected.

"– don't I even deserve the embrace of your arms? – to be able to snuggle against your breasts, to experience solace now that sleep does not find me at night? –" He almost wailed, filled with grief and frustration, thinking with shame that he had acted like a small child.

He saw her swallow hard, surprised, all red with shame at his words.

"– I'll let you – I'll let you touch and cuddle against my breasts – if you promise not to take me –" She mumbled, and he nodded, desperate.

She held out her hand to him, and he grasped it, moving behind her through the grass between the trees – he blinked, surprised, when she lay down under one of them in such a place that they were covered by shrubbery on all sides, and even if someone had passed that way, he would not have noticed their lying silhouettes.

"– come –" She whispered, reaching her hands into the back of her gown, loosening its entire structure so that it slid off her shoulders.

He knelt down in front of her, feeling the aggressive pounding of his heart and the painful pulsing of his manhood as his fingers slid the material even lower, finally exposing what he so desperately craved.

She moaned far too loudly when he leaned in suddenly and his lips clamped greedily around her hard nipple, beginning to suck, his other hand closing on her other breast, so wonderfully warm and soft under his fingers.

He sighed with delight and murmured as her familiar, safe arms cuddled him into her chest and he settled comfortably between her thighs.

"– I miss you –" He muttered like a little boy, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a quiet plop, feeling ashamed that he was letting her see his vulnerability – he nuzzled his cheek against her firm bosom, watching enthralled as his fingers squeezed and played with her other plump, lovely breast.

He closed his eyes as she leaned in and placed a tender, long kiss on the top of his head, stroking his hair and back with her hands.

"– I miss you too – try to sleep and rest, brother –" She whispered, and he snorted, shaking his head.

"– with this in my hands – I'd sooner die of tension than fall asleep –" He grunted, on the other hand pleased and fulfilled to feel her so intimately again, to be able to breathe for a moment and find the peace he so desperately needed.

Despite how confidently he said it, in the end the slow, gentle rhythm in which she stroked his body made his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and when he finally closed them, he fell into a peaceful, deep slumber amidst the rustling of trees and grass, enveloped by her wonderful scent.

They spent every afternoon like this until their wedding day.

On the day of their nuptials, he was tense – he feared an attack from Dragonstone just as much as that his brother would want to call it all off at the last moment.

Some part of him didn't believe that it could work out for them – that there was a future in which he could get what he wanted without making a sacrifice for it for once.

He had to pay for everything with blood.

He shuddered, startled, when, while his servants were helping him put on his emerald tunic, the door to his chamber opened and his mother stepped in.

"Leave us." He said coldly, and the boys bowed and left them alone.

The Dowager Queen approached him with an uncertain step, looking down at her hands, his heart pounded harder in hope, begging for her blessing and at least one tender look.

Her eyes finally lifted to his, and her hand touched his arm, stroking it in a gesture of comfort.

"I wish you, my son, to find with your future wife only the peace and understanding as I experienced at your late father's side." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling discomfort in his stomach.

"You didn't love him. And I don't want my marriage to look like yours. Quite the opposite." He said coolly, pulling away from her, disappointed and dismayed that she was telling him what she thought she needed to say, rather than being honest with him.

Alicent sighed, as if his words and reaction caused her pain.

"We did not always agree, it is true. But our King was a good man, just as my son is." She said finally, and he grinned under his breath as he stood with his back to her, running his fingertips over the top of his table.

"If I remember correctly, he cut open the womb of his beloved wife while she was still alive. While I lost my eye, he cared more for the good name of his first-born daughter than for my suffering or your humiliation. I also know that he did not arouse your desire, for after Daeron's birth you spent each night in separate chambers." He said lightly as he walked over to the window, looking at the servants busying themselves, hanging ornaments and fresh flowers in the courtyard of the keep.

He wondered if his bride regretted her decision.

The thought that he would finally spend that evening sunk deep into her body filled him with fervent desire, and his mind drifted away from his mother and her attempts to salvage the image of his father in his mind.

"No one is perfect. Your father wasn't either. But I respected him and held deep affection for him." She replied finally, and he only hummed, losing the urge for her to give him anything.

Her tenderness, her warm word, her motherly gaze.

He was sick of begging on his knees for her to give him something that was real.

He had to create something like that himself with the woman he had snatched from the gods and made his own.

The tension in his muscles intensified as he stepped into the Great Sept and climbed up the stone steps to the top, standing next to the Septon – the sight of the crowd that had gathered in the temple and the knowledge that everyone's eyes were on him made him feel small and vulnerable.

What if he misspoke the words of his oath?

What if the cloak he had thrown over her shoulders slipped off?

What if she humiliated him in front of everyone, shouting in his face that she despised him?

He swallowed hard and looked to the side, feeling his heart pounding hard as cheers and loud conversations sounded outside the gates – he knew this meant her carriage had arrived and indeed, he saw his grandfather come out to meet her.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in disbelief as she and Otto walked into the temple – holding her hand in that of his grandfather's she walked with her head held high in a beautiful gown composed of blues and browns, from a distance he could see the sparkle of sapphire stones in her necklace and in her hair.

A sigh and pain squeezed his throat at the thought that, contrary to what he had thought, she had not taken on green, the colour of his faction, but his colour, blue, something only he could understand, her personal expression of affection and devotion, a wordless assurance of her fidelity and of what she desired.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, feeling himself tremble all over with nerves and excitement as she slowly climbed the steps to the top, standing at last before him, looking more beautiful than ever, all flushed with emotion.

He longed to touch her hand or her face, longed to feel the softness of her body, to speak the words of his vows with his nose nestled in her warm cheek.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." Said the Septon loudly – he blinked and looked at him, snapped out of his reverie by the realisation that this was it.

He grunted, trying to remain calm, and turned away, nodding at his uncle, extending his hand to him.

It was only when he threw the cloak bearing his family crest over her shoulders that he understood why this tradition had been upheld for centuries – there was something about this protective gesture, of a husband surrounding his wife with a cloth to protect her from the cold and danger, while also being a symbol of the fact that now what would be would overshadow what was, and his house would become her home.

He swallowed hard, thinking with tenderness that they would now truly become a family.

Their shared lie before the eyes of the gods had become truth.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The Septon said, and he held out his hand, doing his best not to show how much it was quivering.

He felt relief when she looked at him, when her fingers touched his skin, in her gaze at once terror and warmth, the certainty of a feeling he feared was merely a figment of his imagination, her way of subduing him.

And yet, he could see it exactly in the depths of her beautiful dark eyes.

He pressed his lips together as the priest wrapped their hands several times with a long, wide, bright ribbon, symbolically entwining their fates with each other for eternity.

Are they about to hear the dragon's roar, to learn that Daemon and Rhaenyra have seized the opportunity, their nuptials to burn King's Landing?

This, her by his side, her body and her gaze meant only for him for the rest of his days could not become true.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." The Septon said, and he swallowed with difficulty, feeling his lips dry with emotion.

They looked at each other before opening their mouths, the words leaving his throat seeming to come out of him without the participation of his will.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

He stared at her dully, waiting for the ground to part, for him to hear screams or someone's defiance, for some guard to run into the Sept, shouting that they had been attacked.

But only silence answered him.

She was his wife.

This thought, the fact that in front of witnesses they had spoken aloud the words of this vow, that the whole Kingdom had heard and seen it with their own eyes, that neither his brother nor anyone else could undo what had happened anymore, made him cup her rosy cheek in his hand, leaning over her.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He whispered only to sink a moment later into the sweet wetness of her full lips, her innocent sigh of delight making his manhood throb softly in his breeches.

He broke the kiss and pulled away, looking closely at her beautiful, bright face – she blinked and smiled, so tenderly and sweetly that he felt the corners of his mouth lift upwards too, in something that was not a grimace but an expression of his genuine happiness.

They were married.

They returned to the Red Keep on horseback, upright and proud, surrounded by hundreds of guards – no one, however, thought to curse or attack them – his grandfather's trick had worked, and the food he had distributed to the smallfolk before their nuptials had made them shower them with flowers.

They did not look at each other during their journey, however, he felt her presence beside him and that was enough for him.

When they reached the courtyard of the Red Keep he jumped off his mount and approached her mare, dismissing the guard, extending his hands to her, wanting to help her get down on the ground. She welcomed his hands reaching out towards her with a sweet smile, leaning on his shoulders, jumping directly into his arms.

He managed to place a quick little kiss on her warm cheek from which she blushed, looking up at him happily, placing her hand on his.

They stepped into the Throne Room first, followed by all the guests. He remembered little of his grandfather's toast and the words of the Lords who, one by one, stood before their table, wishing them happiness and prosperity.

He merely nodded, stunned and tired, dreaming only of escaping with her to his chamber and sinking between her warm thighs.

He looked at her as he felt the fingers of her hand, extended towards him on the armrest, brush his in the air – he hummed under his breath and his knuckles ran over her soft skin in a gesture of reciprocation.

In keeping with his grandfather's desire, the servants tasted everything before it was served on their plates – still, when the wine was finally poured for him and his wife, he surprised her by taking her cup from her hand, taking the first sip from it.

It was sweet and tasted as usual, so he handed the goblet back to her – her look of affection and gratitude told him what she thought of what he had done and how she intended to reward him later.

He swallowed hard and took another sip of wine, this time from his own goblet, feeling that his erection was all swollen, throbbing with lust in his breeches.

He craved her so badly.

They all raised their gazes upwards when a guard stood in the doorway, a drop of cold sweat ran down his back at the thought that they had been attacked after all.

"King Aegon Targaryen, the Second of His Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He called out, and he and everyone around him froze.

Aegon stepped with difficulty, with one hand supporting himself on his staff, the other having thrown over the neck of Larys Strong, who was careful not to let his brother fall.

That fucking viper, he thought.

The burnt part of his brother's face was covered by the golden mask his father had worn towards the end of his life – their resemblance, their raked silhouette struck him so much that he simply sat and looked.

"– stand up – stand up, you fool –" Otto hissed and jerked him – he rose immediately from his seat, and with him his wife and all the others gathered.

His mother ran up to his brother, asking loudly how he could get out of bed while he was in such a state, whose idea it was to strain his weak body, but Aegon did not even look at her, his gaze fixed on him.

"Put a chair for His Grace right next to mine. My brother wishes to dine with us." He ordered loudly, feeling like he was a small child again, his heart pounding like mad with terror.

Aegon was brought to his seat by the guards – he himself held him down as he nearly fell over, panting heavily, pale and shivering all over from exertion. His brother exhaled loudly as he finally collapsed into his chair, and he and the rest of the room also took their seats.

"I have come to personally congratulate my brother and my cousin." Aegon said loudly, breathing hard, his words echoing through the chamber. "Though I must admit that their marriage comes as a surprise to me."

He stared dully at his plate, wanting to disappear, to melt into the ground, to not exist, feeling that his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

"However, the Kingdom cannot be left without an heir – I, because of my condition, will beget neither son nor daughter, so we must rely on my brother and his strong seed. I hope that on this night, I, as well as the rest of the court, will witness how the future Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms will be begotten." He said, lifting his wine cup – no one responded to his toast, but Aegon did not seem to mind – he drank the entire contents of it in a strangle.

That night, I, as well as the rest of the court, will witness how the future King of the Seven Kingdoms will be begotten.

"No." He hissed, their mother, trying to change his mind, took Aegon's hand in hers.

"My son, that's not appropriate, that's…"

"It is the King's command." His brother replied, not even looking at them – Otto leaned towards him from the other side, trying to intervene.

"Your Grace, I am not a supporter of this tradition myself – it is not conducive to neither marital intimacy nor the said begetting of offspring." He said, and Aegon laughed out loud.

"I don't care, you old fool."

Standing in his chamber in the company of his grandfather, Aegon, his friends, the would-be members of the Kingsguard, and the few Lords his brother had forced to watch this pathetic spectacle, he felt tears under his eyelids, even though his face was stony.

He had the impression that everything inside him froze while he looked towards the three-door screen, behind which Lysa was helping his wife undo her gown.

He thanked the gods that his mother left the chamber, unable to look at it.

He wondered whether, if he fell to his knees before his brother and begged him for forgiveness, he would take pity on them.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, panicked and terrified when her beautiful, girlish figure clad only in a thin, snow-white nightgown came out from behind the screen, her long hair loose, her gaze fixed on him gentle and warm.

He swallowed hard as she reached her hand out to him, walking over to his bed – the sight of her not being as terrified as he was, of her not crying gave him strength – he moved towards her, and when he finally stood in front of her, she sidestepped him and walked over to the pillars of the bed, untying the curtains, pulling them all the way open so that they covered what was to happen behind them.

She wanted to give them a bit of privacy, he thought with gratitude.

"No. We must see that Prince Aemond has done his duty." Said Aegon, their grandfather, however, immediately protested.

"Looking at the bare bodies of someone other than one's spouse is a sin, Your Grace, and we will not be sanctioning such practices in this keep." He said in a voice cold and final, and his brother fell silent.

He felt some kind of relief when at last the silhouettes around them disappeared behind the cream curtains, indistinct and distant, seeming to him to be only a bad dream.

His wife, his hāedar approached him with an expression on her face as if she was ready for battle, and as soon as her hand brushed his jaw, his nose sunk into her warm, soft cheek, his arms embraced her at the waist, seeking refuge.

"Don't give him the satisfaction. Make it so you peak as soon as possible and don't worry about me. I've been wet for you for days and I'll take you inside me with ease." She whispered tenderly, and he felt his manhood pulsate hard, a pleasant shiver running along his spine, giving him hope.

She was on his side.

She had strength and courage when he lacked it.

His wife.

"Come." She whispered further, undoing his belt and the fastenings of his tunic with quiet clicks, while he pulled at the ties of her nightgown in one gentle motion, loosening the whole material, which slipped from her shoulders.

In some natural, affectionate reflex, they began to kiss – her puffy lips were wonderfully sweet and familiar, warm and moist, her saliva melting on his tongue.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his heart and the fact that his erection grew hard at the sight of her naked body, reminding himself of the tension he had felt for days.

He thought that by the fact that it had been so long since he had experienced fulfilment, a few sure thrusts deep into her warm flesh should allow him to do his duty and end it.

He was comforted by this and by the tenderness of her hands, by the way her fingers stroked his hair and neck, pulling off his tunic, his shirt and his breeches, allowing them both to finally remain completely bare.

As she lay on the bed on her back and gave him one, comforting, sweet smile, reaching out her hand to him, he just lay on top of her, looking at her face for a moment, their hands stroking their cheeks tenderly.

"– forgive me –" He whispered in trembling voice, wanting her to know that he was furious that they'd been forced into this, that like her he'd imagined it completely different, that as much as he'd wanted this, he hadn't been able to protect them.

He was afraid that if he resisted his brother, he would take revenge on him, or worse, on her.

"– shhh – put it inside me – make me whole again –" She gasped softly and they both sighed as she spread her thighs in front of him, her hand gently grasping his throbbing erection, directing it to her small slit.

They kissed tenderly, their naked bodies pressed against each other as he slid between her dripping walls with a soft, slow push of his hips – her cunt, true to her word was wonderfully wet and warm, offering him no resistance.

The thought that even if he didn't give her fulfilment, he wouldn't cause her pain either was comforting to him.

He thought he would make it all up to her later.

She moaned softly as he nestled his face against her cheek and began to thrust into her fleshy, throbbing core, the quiet slapping of their naked bodies against each other, her familiar arms, her wonderful scent, her sweet sounds made a pleasant wave of heat surge through his loins, making him completely hard.

He breathed a sigh of relief, thinking only of how long he had waited for this, imagining that he had taken her in the royal gardens on the grass, that she had been unable to resist him despite her determination.

"– hāedar –" He gasped as he felt her fingers clench tighter on his back, sliding down to his buttocks, her hips rolling in response to his increasingly aggressive stabs, her whimpers vulnerable and filled with pleasure as he hit her sweet spot again and again.

"– yes – yes, lēkia, right here –" She mumbled softly into his ear, and he restrained himself with difficulty not to moan, chasing his peak with the loud clicks of her little cunt.

He was so, so close, he thought with relief.

"– woof, woof – what's that supposed to mean? – I was hoping you'd demonstrate to us how the hound fucks –" He heard his brother's amused voice and froze, feeling his whole body tense up, the pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen turned into a cool wave of humiliation that ran along his back.

"– Your Grace – it's not dignified –" He heard the frustrated voice of their grandfather on the other side.

He felt himself begin to quiver, his lips parted in horror as he felt his erection become half-hard again, unsure what to do, hot tears of despair and shame gathered under his eyelids.

He sighed as he felt her hands simply press his face into the crook of her neck, giving him shelter, her lips placing warm, gentle kisses on his head, her fingers combing through his hair.

He just wanted to fall asleep in her embrace and never wake up again.

"– I'm just worried about my cousin and whether she'll experience pleasure – both she and I know how selfish my brother is – what he's capable of doing to get what he wants –" Aegon said, making heavy, burning tears run down his cheeks one by one, his eyebrows arching in pain as her arms hugged him tighter to her body, wanting to protect him from what was happening.

"– do you trust me? –" She asked so quietly that only he was able to hear her.

He swallowed hard, choking on his own tears, trying not to make a sound.

Did he trust her?

He wished he did.

He nodded and felt her arms push him away, as if she was trying to force him to change position, finally turning him onto his back, sitting on top of him with his soft manhood inside her – she leaned over him, pressing her palms to the sides of his face as if she just wanted to cup his cheeks, while doing it so hard that he stopped hearing anything.

His heart pounded harder when he heard his brother's voice again, but as if from afar, unable to understand the words he had spoken – his wife kissed his forehead and then brushed her lips gently against his, lazily rolling her hips back and forth, teasing him.

His hands rose to her body, to her back, her waist and her hair, stroking her bare skin as if it were something delicate and precious, her sweet breasts pressed against his torso.

Her insides were wonderfully warm, her lips moist and full, her gaze tenderly fixed on his – her thumbs stroked his cheeks, but her hands stayed in the same position, keeping him from listening to what was happening around them.

A pleasant shiver ran down his spine again as the tip of her slick tongue slid invitingly between his lips, licking him in a way from which his cock pulsed aggressively inside her.

She moaned, feeling it, rocking her hips with quiet clicks of her moisture – he bent his legs at the knees, responding to her movements with tentative thrusts, feeling her walls growing tighter again, a quiet sigh escaped his throat as his hands clamped down on her firm breasts.

"– yes – yes, just like that, my sweet husband –" He heard her voice, her face pressed against his neck as her spine curved into the letter s, allowing him to admire the shape of her plump buttocks.

He clamped his hands on them, imposing a fast, rough pace on her, panting hard, trying not to think or be, only to take what was familiar and desired, what he had waited so long for.

He pulled himself up and sat down, wanting to feel her from a different angle, and she put her arms around his head, again covering his ears – he heard them both moan loudly as he began to thrust into her anew, his face snuggled between her beloved, soft breasts, making him feel at home.

"– Aemond – ah, g-gods, yes, yes, yes –" He heard her whimper, her thirsty, leaking cunt soaking him completely every time he slammed into her again and again, opening her violently on the fattest part of his cock, all throbbing with pain.

He was wonderfully close, he knew that – he looked at her, at her beautiful, sweet face, and she kissed him so tenderly and softly that tears ran down his cheeks – he felt the familiar tightness in his stones and breathed a sigh of relief as, with his groan of pleasure, his seed finally spilled inside her, her fleshy walls giving him a few more squeezes, sucking his spend deep inside her.

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief as she placed small, soft kisses on his hair, as if to tell him wordlessly that she was proud of him.

As her hands stroked his head and back, he heard someone's slow footsteps and hisses of pain – he exhaled loudly as the door to his chamber opened and those gathered began to leave.

And then there was silence.

"– are we alone? –" He muttered at last and felt her kiss the top of his head, cuddling him into her body.

"– yes, my love –" She whispered and wanted to say something else, but she didn't, because he burst out in a loud, childish sob.

He snuggled into her, choking on his own tears, feeling them flow and flow and flow, unable to stop it – he heard her hush him tenderly, pressing his face between her breasts, hearing how much he was suffering, how humiliated and weak he felt.

"– shhh – I know – you were so brave –" She whispered, and he wept loudly, thinking that he wasn't a man, that surely she herself would now look at him with pity.

"– forgive me –" He mumbled wearily, and in response her lips kissed his forehead, sweaty from exertion and stress.

"– I have nothing to forgive you for – the King put us in an impossible position, we couldn't behave any other way – your task was much more difficult – a woman can just lie down and wait it out, but it is the man who must desire her despite what is happening around him – Aegon wanted to humiliate you but he failed – calm down, brother, breathe – there is nothing more he can do to us –" She said and he just listened to her, panting hard, needing her words, her reassurances like air.

"– he did it again – mocked me again –" He blurted out with difficulty.

"– he heard that what you were doing to me gave me pleasure, and that's why he said all those awful things – he is jealous, brother, because he knows that no woman will ever desire him again – that it is your children who will sit on the Iron Throne –" She said tenderly and he swallowed hard.

"– ours –" He corrected her and heard her smile, stroking his head tenderly.

"– ours –" She hummed and he nestled closer to her, brushing her bare back with his fingers, his soft erection still deep inside her.

He didn't want to slid it out of her yet, because he felt safe in her warm, fleshy body.

"– I ruined our wedding night – I didn't give you fulfillment –" He whispered, and she shook her head.

"– we both know that our wedding night was the night before you flew out to Rook's Rest – that's when I lost my maidenhood and became yours – my fulfillment can wait, just as you patiently waited for me for many days –" She said softly, and for some reason he felt relief.

He sniffed with his nose and let her go when he felt her wanting to get up from his lap, gently sliding his warm, soft manhood out of her – he immediately turned away from her and lay on his side, curling up so that he lifted his knees almost under his chin, embracing his legs with his arms.

He was not a man or a lover, he was nobody, he thought, whooping with tears again, unable to calm down.

Woof, woof.

He pressed his lips together when he felt her soft body lay behind him, her breasts pressed against his back, her arms embracing his waist, stroking his musclar stomach – he closed his eyes as her mouth placed a moist, loud kiss on the back of his head.

"– iksan kesīr, valzȳrys (I'm here, husband) – aōha ābrazȳrys iksis ondoso aōha paktot (your wife is by your side) –" She whispered, and he exaled, gently taking her hands in his, entwining their fingers together.

He swallowed hard when he heard her open her mouth, her fingertips stroking his skin soothingly.

Sleep my baby on my bosom

Warm and cozy will it prove

Round thee mother’s arms are folding

In her heart a mother’s love

There shall no one come to harm thee

Naught shall ever break thy rest

Sleep my darling babe in quiet

Sleep on mother’s gentle breast.

He felt that this time it was a tears of emotion that ran down his hot cheeks – his chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths, hearing how warm and melodious her voice was.

He wasn't sure if his mother had ever sung lullabies to him, but the fact that she did it now to soothe and comfort him, made a wonderful, warm feeling spread through his heart.

He swallowed hard as silence fell around them – his thumb brushed the soft skin of her hand, only three pleading words leaving his mouth.

"Sing some more."

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Like Lovers Do

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You and Daemon would dream about marrying each other before both of you became victims of political marriages, very much against your wills: he was sent to the Vale and you to the Riverlands. However, when your lord husband passes away, you return to King’s Landing, only to find out that your childhood sweetheart is now wearing a crown of his own.

A/N: Once again, I wrote too much - this is a long chapter (4.3k)! And full of smut and hot daddy Daemon... And thus concludes this mini-story (which was supposed to be a one-shot but anyways)... Hope you enjoy it! Again, you can always send me Daemon x reader requests!

Warnings: I am not a native English speaker, strong language, smut, strong smut (basically the whole chapter is a big bad smut)

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

Your feelings about dining with Daemon were complicated.

On the one side, your heart yearned to spend time with him, rekindle the bond you once shared with him and perhaps find solace in his embrace once again. However, the other part of you seethed with anger, unwilling to forgive him for disappearing from your life.

Oh, and not to mention that he was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, even though one could scarcely call it a marriage.

"I shall regret this night," you muttered to yourself as your handmaid (you had offered to bring her to King's Landing with you when you left the Riverlands) assisted you in getting ready for the evening.

In these thirty years of life, regrets have been my constant companions; what is one more to add to the tally?

"The Prince has undoubtedly ensured a feast fit for royalty, my Lady," Elyse told you while fastening the laces of your crimson dress, fashioned from the finest sateen.

You chuckled softly at the fact of how naive she was. "Oh, sweet Elyse, the dinner itself is the least of my worries." You spoke with a soft voice, only to earn a confused look from Elyse. "Don't you remember when I told you that the Prince and I go way back?"

"Oh, right - you grew up together, didn't you?" She asked, earning a nod from you. After finishing adjusting your dress, Elyse stepped away, taking a good look at you. "You are going to sweep the Prince off of his feet with your beauty, my Lady."

A soft smile formed on your lips. "You have done a wonderful job, Elyse, as always." You told her, causing Elyse's blue eyes to shine. "You may take your leave for today, darling - the hour will probably be quite late when I retire tonight."

After Elyse left you alone in your chambers, you took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror for a while, lost in that vast ocean of thoughts circling your mind like crazy. You realised that you were scared to get the answers to those questions that had plagued your nights ever since you had left King's Landing.

Nevertheless, you deserved to know why - why he hadn't done anything to fight for you and why he had simply disappeared into the ghosts of your past.

Slowly, your feet took you to Prince Daemon's chambers. The corridors of the Red Keep were cold, the wind inside was giving you goosebumps. The white-cloak keeping watch in front of Daemon's chambers nodded at you upon seeing you and slightly opened the door to inform Daemon about your presence. A few seconds later, you were standing inside, your back facing the closed doors, a large dining table in front of you.

Daemon stood up from his seat and walked towards you, he was all in black except for the red linings on the sleeves of his black tunic. You couldn't help yourself but admire how unearthly he looked - the contrast between his silver hair, pale skin and black clothing added another layer of charm to his beauty.

He was ageing like Dornish wine.

For the third time that same day, the Prince brought your hand to his lips. "You are a feast for the eyes, my Lady."

You felt heat rushing to your face. Truth be told, you couldn't recall the last time you were showered with this many compliments in mere hours. "You flatter me, my Prince."

Daemon pointed at the table with his head. "Shall we?" He asked, earning a nod from you. You sat at the opposite ends of the giant table, which was adorned with all kinds of food: from roast duck to lemon cakes and the finest of wines...

"You remembered," you said, you didn't expect Daemon to remember how much you loved the taste of roast duck.

The Prince chuckled softly as he slowly filled his plate. "It pains me to hear your disbelief in me, love."

You raised a challenging eyebrow at him while you reached for the wine. "Forgive me for not expecting you to remember small details about me, my Prince," you spoke with a sarcastic tone, "I believed you had forgotten that I existed."

Daemon licked his lower lip, you could see that he kind of enjoyed you biting him back at every chance you got; however, you knew very well that you had to thread carefully with his patience. "You would be surprised at how much I still remember, love," Daemon spoke with a deep voice before taking a sip from his wine. "Are you planning on staying in King's Landing?"

You hated the way he changed the subject whenever he felt himself cornered.

"As long as my father holds his position as the Master of Coins, yes, I shall remain in King's Landing." You responded while taking a piece of the roast duck into your mouth. "Mmh, Daemon, this is exquisite!"

A small laughter left the Prince's lips, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I gather roast duck is not one of the Riverlands' specialities," he muttered. "Are you planning on remarrying?" He asked, he seemed genuinely curious. Since your mouth was full, you shook your head in a short response as you swallowed your food. "A woman such as yourself does surely miss the marriage bed."

Upon hearing his last remark, you let out a loud laughter unfitting of a lady of your station; however, you didn't feel the need to force yourself to follow all those formalities when you were with Daemon - you never did.

The Prince was apparently having difficulty understanding what you found so amusing in his words.

"Miss the marriage bed?" You repeated Daemon's words. "Oh, Daemon, the day I miss my marriage bed, will be the day I ask you to burn me alive with Caraxes."

The Prince clicked his tongue. "Naive of you to think I would allow you to give voice to such absurdity, love."

Once again, you raised an eyebrow. "Absurdity, is it now?" You shook your head in disbelief as you brought your cup to your lips. "You have no idea what absurdity is, my Prince." After drinking all the remaining wine in your glass at once, you placed the cup back onto the table, your eyes finding Daemon's questioning ones. "When the lady wife of a wealthy lord becomes nothing more than a highborn whore, that is an absurdity."

"I believe your words need more elaborating, my Lady." Daemon spoke, his purple eyes moving slowly from your eyes to your lips and to your cleavage, only to return to your eyes once more. You felt warmness spreading through your body, his intense gaze was enough to make you feel dizzy.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your gaze on the sky visible through the window, which was becoming darker by the minute. "I have told you earlier that my late husband was not able to father any children," you said, you could see from the corner of your eye that Daemon nodded at your words. "When he realised he needn't have taken me wife, he stopped seeing me except to bed me."

Slowly, you turned back to Daemon - there was something else inside his deep, purple eyes that resembled... fury?

"I became one of his whores," you spat out the words as if they were venom. "But I was the noble, wealthy, lady whore whom he could exclusively have for himself." As you spoke, the feelings of anger and disgust you had been trying so hard to suppress suddenly surfaced, making you lose control. "My only duty for the last decade was to let myself get fucked by a fat, old man over and over again! I couldn't even mother any children so that this fucked up fate of mine would be worth it all..."

You saw Daemon clenching his fists and chin in anger but you couldn't understand the subject of his fury - above all, he was the one who had done absolutely nothing to avoid both of your damned fates.

"Why, Daemon?" You asked as you pushed your seat back loudly. "Why didn't you do anything for us? Why did you leave me alone to drown in my nightmares?!"

Your voice was getting louder.

The Prince responded with an indifferent voice, absent from any kind of emotion, which only embittered you. "We were both married to different people, our destinies took us to separate places," he responded, causing your eyes to widen with shock. "It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Is this your excuse for leaving all the messages I have sent unreturned?" You asked with a disappointed tone as you started pacing up and down in his chambers. "You... You are unbelievable, Daemon!"

"Thread carefully," the Prince spoke with a warning tone.

However, at that moment, you couldn't have cared less - you wanted to trample on Daemon's damn boundaries until they were nothing but meaningless lines.

"You could have said something, done something - anything! But instead, you stood by as we were both shipped off - and to what end? You haven't spent a single night with your wife in years!" You shook your head in disbelief as you stopped walking to take a look at Daemon, who looked like an angry dragon that was about to throw fire any moment now.

"You didn't even say goodbye to me."

Then, everything happened all of a sudden.

Daemon roared in fury as he threw his plate (and multiple other plates) off the table, which ended up loudly crashing the nearby wall and falling down onto the floor, causing you to slightly jump in your place. The next thing you knew, Daemon was standing right in front of you, his right hand holding you by your chin with a firm grip, his fingers digging into the flesh of your skin.

"Because it hurt," the words left his lips silently but the power they held was immense. "I didn't bid you farewell, I didn't return to any of your ravens because thinking about you hurt me. So. Fucking. Much."

When he finally let you go, you were able to speak, though your voice sounded weak. "Then why?" you asked. "Why didn't you do anything?"

The Prince let out a scoff. "Because I am the prince, you believe I can do anything, change anything but it is not as simple as that, my Lady." As he spoke, you realised how close he was standing to you and how his figure towered over yours. You could still feel the fury circling him but he was trying to calm himself down. "There were arrangements done far beyond my reach, my station and yet you still dare blame me!"

You raised your hands in the air as you talked. "You talk as if you have tried to change the King's mind back then, my Prince." You spoke with a bitter tone, your index finger pressing against his chest as you hissed between your gritted teeth. "We both know that you did nothing of sorts - you decided it was better to bury your sorrows in some whores!"

Daemon aggressively grabbed you by your wrist, his hold was so firm it made you flinch as you felt the pain shooting through your body. "What would you have had me do?" Daemon's strong voice thundered in his chambers, causing you to flinch another time. "Take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife? Defy the King's will?"

There was a small silence for a brief moment, you could hear Daemon taking deep breaths as he waited for an answer. However, the single word leaving your lips was obviously not the answer he was waiting for.

"Yes."

It was hard to decipher the dark look in Daemon's eyes - it carried hints of anger and fury but also lust and yearning.

As the Prince slowly let your wrist go, you placed both your hands against his chest, his warm breath licking your forehead as you looked up. "Even now, I would have you take me to Dragonstone on dragonback," your voice was seductive, not caring to hide the desires spilling out with every word. "And marry me in the tradition of your House."

Daemon's breaths were getting deeper by the second, he raised his right hand to caress your face with the side of his finger as the other hand rested on your hip. "Such temptation," he spoke with a low tone while his fingers trailed down to your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine, leaving you yearning for more. "And so eager to be mine, are you not, love?"

You wanted him to do unspeakable things to you.

At that moment, all you could think about was how it would feel to let him fuck you into oblivion - until you couldn't even remember your own name anymore.

"Please, Daemon," your voice was a mere whisper as the Prince leaned into you, his soft lips brushing your neck. "I have waited long enough."

His warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you heave a sigh, which was followed by his lips leaving a small kiss. "For what?" He spoke against your neck. "Say it."

"For you to claim me as yours."

The next thing you knew - Daemon's lips rested against yours.

His lips were hungry, kissing you with so much passion as if he was trying to take away your next breath. Little did you notice that his hands were around your neck, holding your head to allow him to deepen the kiss.

You let out a small whine as Daemon slid his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his, while pressing his body hard against yours. The heat that took over your body was insane - you felt it getting hotter and hotter with his every touch, with each brush of his lips against yours.

"Daemon," you breathed out his name when he left your lips to kiss your neck while backing you back up until your back ended up touching the cold walls.

A moan left your lips when he sucked on the skin. "Mmh?"

"You have too many layers on."

The naughty smirk he carried - you could swear it alone could make you reach your high right then and there - as he took off his cloak and his tunic was something you wanted to carve into your mind, never to forget. Before he could throw away the clothing, your hands started stroking his bare chest, moving to his well-built arms.

He looked like a Valyrian God.

"So eager, now, are you not?" Daemon spoke against your lips, his tone husky. His hands were wandering around your body, hungrily, making you almost forget how to breathe. "Let me show you how it feels to be fucked befittingly, my Lady."

His fingers quickly found their way under the skirts of your crimson dress, trailing up to the source of heat in your body. Upon feeling how wet you already were, the cocky smirk took its place on Daemon's lips.

You let out a deep breath as Daemon slid two of his fingers inside you, his other hand was holding you firmly from your waist. "I have just started touching you, and yet," the moan escaping your lips echoed in the room when Daemon curled his fingers inside you, "you are fucking wet."

Well, you were not the only person in the room literally aching to fuck - Daemon's trousers were failing to hide his hardness.

"You are one to talk, my Pri..." Before you could finish your words, Daemon found that sweet spot in you, making you cry out in bliss. When his thumb also joined his little game, circling over your clit, your only solution for silencing your cries of pleasure was placing your left hand over your mouth.

However, when Daemon suddenly stopped both stimulations, you were left confused.

Slowly, the Prince removed your hand from over your mouth. "You are not to silence anything, love." He spoke as he began to move all his fingers once again. Your hold against his arms tightened.

Biting your lower lip, you spoke with a voice that sounded no more than a soft cry. "We might get heard..."

"I do not give a fuck." Daemon responded as he brought you nearer to the edge. He breathed out your name. "You are mine, and the whole Keep shall know this."

"Fuck," you let out another moan when Daemon fastened the movement of his thumb against your clit, the heat between your legs was getting hotter with each passing moment. "Daemon, if you don't stop," you were out of breath, unable to open your eyes. "I am going to..."

Before you could reach your bliss, Daemon stopped the magic he had been carrying out with just his fingers, leaving you feeling somewhat empty. As your eyes found his darkened ones, you knew that he was about to rip your dress away from your body.

So before he could tear the exquisite fabric of your dress, you took the advantage of getting rid of his trousers, freeing his erection from the fabric. The Prince inhaled deeply when your right hand wrapped around his length, slowly moving.

"I am going to tear that dress apart," Daemon breathed out huskily as you went down onto your knees.

"Or you can simply take it off, my Prince." You whispered, seduction dripping from your words, before letting your tongue swirl around the tip of his cock.

"Bullshit," the Prince spoke but he was interrupted by a small grunt escaping his lips. "Don't tease me, love."

You clicked your tongue. "But that is where the fun lies." You responded in a naughty manner and wrapped your mouth around his cock, slowly taking him in. Daemon let out a long, low moan when you started bobbing your head.

His hands quickly got tangled in your hair, pushing his length deeper down your throat, triggering your gagging reflex. Careful not to let your teeth touch anything, you quickly pulled back, receiving a questioning look from the Prince.

"You are too big, Daemon," you said while wiping away the saliva from the edges of your mouth. "I cannot take all of you in."

Still, your hand was moving up and down his length. Slowly, you cupped his balls with your other hand, causing the Prince to gasp, his hold on your hair tightening.

"We shall work on that, love," Daemon's voice was husky when he talked, his purple eyes seemed almost black, darkened with lust. "Perhaps if I fucked your mouth every night..."

You let out a moan when the Prince lightly pulled you up from your hair, it was to signal you to stand up but your reaction to him pulling your hair only made his cock throb more.

"Interesting," Daemon whispered against your lips as his hands impatiently undid the ties of your dress, letting it fall to your feet in mere seconds. "You enjoyed that, did you not?"

His hands held you from your ass as he pulled you against his chest, you could feel his naked hardness against your lower stomach. Biting your lower lip, you nodded slowly. As a response, one of Daemon's hands moved to the back of your neck and held you tight while pulling you into a deep kiss.

Well, it was more like clashing tongues and teeth. Your hands were restlessly wandering around his god-like body, never able to get enough - each touch seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.

A loud moan left your lips when Daemon's hand pulled from your hair, less lightly this time.

The Prince chuckled against your lips. "You are a far dirty girl than I have imagined, love." Without giving you any time to react, he held you up, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. "That old cunt never let you explore what you like, did he?"

As Daemon let you down onto the sateen sheets of his bed, you shook your head. "I need you to show me, Daemon."

Placing a cushion under your lower back to arrange the height, Daemon licked his lower lip, he was standing at the edge of the bed. "Oh, you need not worry, my Lady," his tip was toying with your entrance, causing your breath to become deeper. "Together, we shall try even the dirtiest, sickest things known to men."

His voice, his eyes, his touch... Everything about him drove you crazy.

When Daemon gently pushed himself into you, you both let out a deep breath as he gave you some time to adjust to his size. When you nodded at him, he quickly picked up a steady pace. Still, you weren't quite sure you were getting everything out of this position. Hence, you decided to place your legs against Daemon's shoulders instead of having them wrapped around his waist.

The next time the Prince thrust into you, a loud cry of bliss left your lips without you having any control over it.

"Fuck!" You cried out as Daemon thrust deeper with a smirk on his face. "Daemon, you are so..."

"I know," he grunted the words while leaning into you. "Tonight, you shall see the stars, my Lady."

To let you try something else, the Prince picked up his right hand from the bed to wrap it around your neck. His grip was not harsh, he just applied the right amount of pressure while thrusting deep into you.

You could swear your eyes tried to roll behind your head. Several moans wanted to escape your lips but they came out muffled.

The way you reacted only made Daemon harder, as if it was even possible.

He grunted your name against your neck as he let go of you, placing the hand on your breast to toy with your nipple. "You are making me crazy," his voice was low.

"You," you were out of breath, "are sending me to another dimension, Daemon."

The Prince sucked on your neck. "I am not done with you yet."

You sent him a confused look when he abruptly stopped and pulled out of you; however, you were not expecting the Prince to literally flip you onto your stomach.

"On your knees," he commanded with a husky voice, which somehow turned you on even more as you stood on the bed on all fours. After thrusting into you, Daemon spoke once again. "Rest on your upper body and lift up your ass."

You adjusted your position as he instructed you and as soon as he picked up the pace, your cries started filling the chambers. He was continuously hitting the sweet spot inside you that sent your head over the clouds.

"Daemon," you cried out his name, "I am getting close."

"Not yet," the Prince hissed the words as you screamed into the sheets of the bed, knowing very well the muffled sounds could still be heard from the outside.

When Daemon's hands got tangled in your hair, you felt anticipation quickly growing inside you. The moment he pulled your hair with enough strength to lift your head up from the bed, your cries of pleasure only got louder.

"Daemon!" You cried out, the Prince picked up the pace with each passing second, and the slapping of his body against yours echoed inside. "Oh, fuck! I am coming, Daemon, if you don't..."

Apparently, the Prince had decided to give you your orgasm. Instead of slowing down, he let your hair go to hold you firmly from your ass with both hands as he fucked you into oblivion.

At that moment, you simply felt like an animal.

The sateen sheets wrinkled in your palms as you reached your orgasm, your whole body shaking as you screamed out Daemon's name, your sight becoming blurry.

After what felt like hours, when you finally came down from your high, Daemon turned you onto your back with a swift movement, pulling out. Before you could comprehend what was happening - mostly because your mind was still in that post-orgasm fog - Daemon finished himself with two strokes of his hand.

His warm seed landed on your stomach, on your breasts and on your face as the Rogue Prince grunted your name over and over and over again.

When Daemon let himself fall down next to you, you were finally coming back to reality. You slowly pushed yourself to sitting, not caring about the cum flowing down your cheek or your breasts.

Daemon chuckled softly. "You have no idea how dirty you look, love." His voice was low but one could still hear the remnants of your love-making.

With the idea creeping into your mind, a naughty smirk formed on your lips. "Perhaps the Prince would like me to take a hot bath," you spoke as you started playing with his silver hair. "So that he himself can join me as well."

His laugh was like a song to your ears. "I assume you could not get enough of me."

You shook your head. "I have waited more than a decade so that I could have a taste of you," the words left your lips in a bitter manner even though that was not the intention. "And that cock of yours is a forbidden blessing."

Daemon straightened as well, sitting next to you. "About that," he took your hands between his, his tone was so soft it resembled his sixteen-year-old self. "I intend to talk with my brother on the morrow."

Your eyes widened with shock as you asked with a shaky voice. "About... us?"

The Prince nodded while he left a small kiss on your forehead. "I shall take you to Dragonstone, on Caraxes, and make you my wife," he whispered. "Queen of the Narrow Sea."

[sodaabaa]

powdered sugar kisses 

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader anthony searches aubrey hall for his wife, only to find her where he least expected a viscountess to be.

tw: slightly nsfw, mostly fluff.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know where my wife might be?” Anthony asked a nearby maid. He’d searched nearly the entire house – quite a feat given the sheer size of his family’s estate – and he was beginning to worry when his wife was nowhere to be found. Most often when Anthony came home from whatever viscount duties required his attention that day, his wife could be found perched on a window sill with her nose in a book or tending to the garden. Today, she was not found reading nor gardening – and she wasn’t in their bedroom or any of the living areas either. The maid looked at Anthony, hesitant to answer his question. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for an answer.

“She’s in the kitchen, my lord,” she confessed.

The kitchen? What on earth could she be doing in the kitchen?

Anthony made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what she could possibly be doing. He was met with the sight of his beloved wife wearing a flour-coated apron, bent over a tray of cookies. Her hair was tied up to keep it out of her face but despite the hastily done updo, stray hairs framed her face. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held a bag of icing, piping intricate designs onto the cookies – or at least attempting to. “Was the cook indisposed?” He finally said, breaking the silence.

His wife jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Anthony! When did you arrive?” She asked, a smile forming on her face. He looked her up and down, denoting his surprise at finding her in such an unusual position. 

"Just a moment ago -- what are you doing?" He asked.

“Oh! I felt rather restless this afternoon without you, so I thought perhaps I try my hand at baking. I made biscuits!” She explained, dusting her hands on her apron before removing it. She picked up one of the sweets, excitedly bringing it over to show Anthony. He watched her dazedly as she walked over, mesmerized by her beauty, even in her current state of disarray. 

"Yes, I gathered as much, you are aware you are a viscountess, correct?"

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his question.

“I’m not quite good at designing them just yet – but they taste fantastic!” She said, taking a bite out of the sugary biscuit and then offering it to Anthony. He took a bite as she held it up for him. “They taste lovely, much like the chef,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Nothing could taste sweeter than the woman before him. Though, perhaps that was the light dusting of powdered sugar on her lips from the cookie. He brought his lips to her sugared ones, letting the sweet dust melt away between them. She giggled into the kiss and Anthony had to restrain himself from taking her right here and now. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss.

“Anthony!” She squealed.

He pulled away, “Why would one ever need such confections with a wife such as you?” He smiled at her fondly, he hated being away from her for long stretches of the day.

She blushed, narrowing her eyes at him 

“Feeling bashful, are we?” He peppered kisses along her cheek, making a path towards her ear. She tried to swat him away but he only held her closer, pressing her chest to his. His breath tickled her ear, eliciting another giggle to Anthony’s pleasure. 

“What if someone comes in, Anthony!” She said in a hushed voice, trying to keep her composure. 

“Let them,” he found her lips again. She moaned into the kiss, breaking all of Anthony’s last remaining bits of resolve. 

He hoisted her up on the kitchen counter, breaking their kiss to remove the rather inconvenient layers of clothing he wore. His wife looked up at him in shock though her chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation. His hands found his wife’s waist once more, pulling her close and returning his lips to hers. Her hands came up to his chest, untying the laces at the front of his shirt, just as eager as he was to rid themselves of the pesky boundary. His lips trailed down her neck, hands reaching up to pull her neckline down. He made a path from her neck down to her chest and then her stomach, lifting her skirt as he made his way down. He kneeled before her, looking up at her as he found her inner thigh. She gasped, causing Anthony to smirk at her sensitivity. She was supple and soft and sweet as he placed rough kisses on her thighs, leaving a burning path behind as he inched closer to what he truly wanted to taste. 

“Anthony, please,” she begged. 

“Patience, dear wife,” he whispered. She groaned, her hands snaking up his neck, running through his hair. She tried to push him closer, but before she could, he grabbed each of her hands in his and held them against the counter. She whined and wiggled, upset at his restraint. He only laughed at her impatience, the sudden vibrations causing her to shudder. He would satisfy her eventually but Anthony had always been one to savor his desserts rather than indulge himself all at once.

[stinkygirl009]

could you maybe possibly do like.. darry x motherly sweet reader? I js love darry sm omg

A/N: THIS IS SO CUTE STOPPP😩💗💗

Ever since Darry met y/n in high school he knew that she was gonna be the one and only for him. She was so sweet and loving towards him and this brothers it felt almost to good to be true. When mrs. Curtis first saw her, let’s just say she was the daughter she never had<3 Even before the incident happened with his parents, y/n still stuck by Darry’s side, helping out with rent and made small pastries for the gang when they would come over. Anything to at least make them feel safe. But even though she’s a total sweetheart, she can go into mommy mode REAL QUICK.

“Two-bit stop touching the chocolate cake!” Y/n swatted at Two-but with the spatula on his hand.

“Why? It’s gonna get eaten anyway!” He argued trying to grab the glass platter the cake was cooling off on. “I said no! Now go and watch Micky Mouse or something.” She said and huffed stepping in front of him to prevent him from getting the cake. He huffed and walked into the living room and sat on the couch with Steve and Soda. Johnny and Ponyboy were sitting on the ground playing poker, ever since they got back from hiding in the church they’ve been more fond of playing with the cards more often.

Y/n glanced back inside of the living room and couldn’t help but smile. She was glad everything worked out for Johnny and Pony, lord knows what could’ve happened to Johnny or pony in that happened in that church. She looked back at the table and grabs the homemade chocolate frosting that was mixed inside the bowl, and grabbed the frosting knife and got a good amount of chocolate on it and began to ice the cake. Few minutes later she was done with the cake, the sweet chocolate smell filling the house up deliciously!

“Ok, ok! get your plates ready.” She said finally with a little sigh still smiling. Two-bit and Steve race to the cake first, Ponyboy and Johnny wait until they’re done acting like a bunch of kid fighting for a toy before they would get there slice of it. Once They all got a piece a few people left due to the time, or they had other plans for tonight, which left Y/n, Soda, and Ponyboy at the house. They heard the car rumble outside the house of the familiar sound of Darry’s run down truck echoing. Y/n just finished washing the mess of dishes and bowls she used for her cake. She quickly was drying off her hand feeling slightly tired. The front door knob shook before it opened to Darry’s tired form walking through the door with a heavy sigh before his brothers welcomed him home. “Smells good in here.” Darry said tilting his head to the kitchen. He walked into the small kitchen and leaned in to see Y/n smiling and quickly walking up to him. His hand falling on their usual resting place on her hips. Pulling her in with a grin on his face.

“Hi, darlin’” he says with the sound of love lacing his voice, making her weak in the knees. “Hi, Darrell.” She said, her hands traveling to the back of his head, her nails massaging his scalp slightly and pulling his head against hers, both of them excepting comfort from each other. “Missed you s’much.” Y/n mumbled quietly her eyes shutting trying to keep the intimate moment for longer. “Missed you too.”

After Darry got ready for bed she got into pajamas y/n had already stored inside Darry’s drawers. This being one of the days that you can stay over at the Curtis house, for the weekends. She finished getting ready, she got under the covers turning on her side to turn off the lamp on the bedside table on Darry’s side of the bed and let out a soft sigh and glanced at the open door that showed Darry, and Soda talking in the living room. Before she thought about it more, she pulled the warm covers over her body, immediately relaxing at the warmth of Darry’s blankets. Y/n closed her eyes for a moment too long, and felt the bed dipping beside her making her jolt awake again. “Sorry, sweetheart.” Darry said turning his head back towards her, and brought his hand to her face gently. “It’s f’ine.” She slurred tiredly. He smiled softly at her state, and sat up slightly trying to wake herself up fully. He used his hand to bring her back down to the bed again. “You don’t need to get up.”

“Well then, get into bed faster!”

He wanted to finish getting things getting finished inside the house, but he knew that he would be exhausted in the morning but with a job well done. “Don’t overwork, please.” She said almost like he was an open book. “Come on-“

Y/n pulling him down towards her, bringing him into a much needed kiss. Lips moving against each other going deeper each time. He relaxed into the soft and gentle embrace from her, making his whole body into putty.

“Just relax tonight, yea?” She broke the kiss, looking into his blue-ish green eyes, convincingly.

“Jus’ tonight, Darlin’.”