#but i adore this nod to history

[nicolascageisgreat]

OMFG

OMFG

I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THIS!

I have pretty much no desire to see this movie, but my beloved Nic finally as Superman?! That I have to see

Nicolas Cage as Kal-El/Superman THE FLASH (2023) dir. Andrés Muschietti

[arsenicflame]

i absolutely love the small historical details butted right up against huge anachronisms in Our Flag Means Death. like yeah eds wearing full leather biker gear but he has a fall front on his pants and his jacket has buttons rather than a zipper too

[averlym]

some very very quick costume shorthands!

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Horsies in the Plex if Roxy is a horse lover before she knows they've ever existed here is really good honestly. She's off exploring, finding random horse themed things and immediately drops what she's doing to run over to Vanessa with it like "LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!!" cause Vanessa also likes horsies and is the reason Roxy likes them so much in the first place.

Like it starts with a prop horseshoe or something. Then she's finding plushies and building a little collection of them, making sure to give Vanessa one every time she finds a new one. Then she finds a random ass saddle or a bunch of prop hay bales or something. A bridle. Some bit pieces. A harness for a wagon. The wagon itself. Horse action figures. Whatever else. She's been excited about every single thing she's found so far and wonders how much more there is to find...

Opens a new storage room door and she finds actual fucking horses. Deactivated, dusty as hell, animatronic horsies.

Fucking grabs Vanessa and takes off running into areas Vanessa is absolutely not allowed to be in at all to show her all the horsies sndjjd like "VANESSAA!!! THERE'S HORSES!!!! NESSA HORSES ARE REAL!!! THEY REALLY EXIST NESSA LOOOOK!!!!"

[reginrokkr]

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐕. Origins lost to time of a celestial being: Hesperus, bringer of light.

It is said that seraphs stand the closest to the Creator in the hierarchy of angels and these, known as the Shining Shades created in the image of the One were four. These may also be known as luminaries, which are also four and are emanations of the Supreme Entity. Together alongside the individual the four of them create are passed through history as the Five Saints.

Among these four, one of them —Hesperus— descended to the moonlight kingdom nearby the realm of night with the intention to save these people from the clutches of night's darkness and bring them to the other side of the moon. Hesperus, known as the evening star but also known as a light bringer possessed a solar aura that made him akin to the sun made flesh and bone, the Light Prince. Alas, before he could do his bidding he suffered betrayal from the pygmies and was left in a death-like stance by the Night Mother, a stance that is reversible if the adequate individual comes to save him.

This has occurred before the invaders came and their dark poison caused plagues and arose delusions left and right, before they warred against the Seelies and the Four remaining Saints alike. Hesperus, with the remaining strength he had, he transmigrated his soul to a newborn of the heavens from a different era, believing that his siblings and his Creator would continue dwelling the kingdom of the skies only to realize that the heavens have become demonic.

This newborn is the prophesized by the Night Mother whom would put a stop to her reign and that would be the only contender she would fear, taking advantage of this fact so that this newborn one day would save him too— which is the only speck of hope he had in an era where the Saints no longer existed and were erased from history.

Though the spirit of Hesperus remains dormant within the prophesized prince of the heavens —Dáinsleif—, during his childhood he had dreams which in truth were glimpses of memories of the Shining Shade that represents logos and whom brought light via thoughts put to words. These dreams are the precursor of curiosity satiated via Irminsul that gave him limited wisdom at the time— wisdom that he was not meant to know in the eyes of the higher entities of Celestia.

It is thanks to Hesperus' spirit that Dáinsleif was born with a solar aura, though those who believe that it is the only light that stems from him are wrong. The solar aura merely opaques the inner light he possesses, only noticeable when the solar and later on lunar aura wear off byproduct of the curse and corruption and passage of time.

Hesperus has another name only unique because he never became a fallen angel, as the heavens had yet to become demonic at the time he was put in a death-like stance. Reason why he lacks a name within the Ars Goetia, but a name from the Shem HaMephorash which collides with the former: Haziel is his alternate name, angel of secrets and mysteries.

Though in essence Dáinsleif is no angel —these stopped existing altogether with the coming of the demonic skies, the fall of the Saints and the true angels: the Seelies—, he is a celestial being whose level of reality was heightened by Hesperus' spirit within him and Irminsul's connection. As his memories were erased by Celestia upon his descent to Khaenri'ah, he has no knowledge over the fact that he's a celestial being, even less about the presence of a divine spirit within him.

However, there is the sentience and acknowledgement that he is no ordinary human in view that the modifications done to Irminsul's data and thus the world's memories do not affect him. The most evident clue remains within his Realm of Consciousness: where his voice has the might of a seraph and his appearance changes slightly. His platinum blond hair, turning whiter as the corruption and the curse advance as well as whenever he performs a purification, is completely white as a signal of the multifactorial weathering of his soul, but also as per his connection to Irminsul. A celestial blue sheen bathes his hair and his sclera becomes the color of his irises while his irises invert to white, the Star of Bethlehem-shaped pupils remain icy sapphire as they are originally, thus giving him an ethereal appearance.

[eraenaa]

Worth the Price

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader

Synopsis: Aemond does everything to prove that he is worthy of you— even if it means that he would be a kinslayer twice.

Warnings: Aemond Plots Against Aegon, Oral Sex (f & m receiving), Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, Choking, Edging, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 5,585

A/N: Reposting bc I was uncertain about this dynamic, but fuck it, I have a soft spot for a Lannister reader and cannot let it rest in my drafts.

Aemond had wanted you since he was young, but as a second son, he would always come second best to his brother. You were a daughter of house Lannister, betrothed to Aegon the moment you were born, an alliance not to keep their Valyrain blood pure but rather to be mixed with gold. You had grown in the walls of the keep, taken from your mother’s arms a few moons after your birth, and grew up under the supervision of your uncle, Tyland Lannister, as a measure to keep you acquainted with your betrothed, Aegon. 

However, such arrangements instilled since your infancy were changed when Queen Alicent was offered a bastard for her only daughter. The queen was quick to cut the engagement made in your infancy and instead betrothed her firstborn son to her firstborn daughter, offering Aemond as your consolation prize. Aemond, who was ten at the time, was thrilled to hear of such arrangements, finally gaining one of the things his heart yearned for the most: you. However, he could see the quiet and greatly covered disappointment not only in your house but in you as well— you were set to be queen, now you were now only to be the lady-wife of a mere second-born son. 

Aemond never truly heard such qualms leave your lips. He was fortunate enough that you had always been keen and kind to him in childhood, and your affection for him only grew in time. But he could not help but be affected by your quiet and greatly oppressed disappointment. For the first ten years of your life, you were prepared and molded to be a queen, hours of unending lessons on how to play the part wasted as you were to be bound to a mere second son. Aemond could not stand for it. He ambitioned to be so much more. He could not stand to be just the second. Second son, second in line, second in your heart. 

“My love, are you listening?” You asked as your husband’s gaze was afar, and you had noticed his attention was not on you. You furrowed your brows as he made no reply, tugging at his arm to bring him out of his trance. “I— I apologize, my heart, I was thinking of another matter,” You pursed your lips and hummed, “And praytell, what matter may that be? Certainly, it is of much importance that you have started ignoring me,” Aemond bit his lip to hinder his amused smirk; he just absolutely adored how you were never afraid to voice out and demand his undivided attention— in others, he would find that absolutely insufferable, but of course, that sentiment was not the same for his dear lady-wife. 

Aemond sighed and could not help but kiss you, unbothered that you two were in the halls and anyone could walk in and see such passion exuding from his usually stoic and rigged demeanor. As your lips parted and Aemond’s body was alight by the feel of your lips and the taste of you, you simply raised your brow, silently urging him to tell the matters that plagued his mind. Aemond tucked a strand of your golden hair and sighed once more, “Nothing— just mere matters of the realm that the king is too incompetent to comprehend and tend to,” You nodded, “Then he is lucky to have you— his brother forever capable and loyal to him and the kingdom,” Aemond bit his tongue. “You must steer him in the right direction, my love. We are already at war; we cannot have the kingdom in shambles because of Aegon’s squandering self. You have always been the diligent one, unending hours poured into learning the histories of your house and training with your sword… your great knowledge must be exercised greatly in this hour of war.” Aemond could only nod his agreement. You smiled and cupped his cheek, tracing his scar, and you hummed as Aemond pressed his cheek further into your soft palm. 

“Now go; I believe that it is the hour of the small council. Best be there and see to it that your brother does not humiliate your family’s claim to the throne further,” You say, reluctantly urging him to let go of his hold on you, even though you were always quick to miss his touch. Aemond shook his head, “Do not be so stubborn,” you said, and you smiled further when Aemond wrapped both of his arms around your waist. You rose to the tip of your toes and pecked your husband’s lips as encouragement. Even though you had shared his kisses countless of times, you still felt the quiet tingle on your plush lips as you two did such actions. “Very well then, I shall do whatever my lady-wife should ask of me,” He said against your lips, making your smile widen. You parted and tried to walk off, but Aemond took hold of your wrist and pulled you back to him, a laugh escaping from your lips, and you rested your hands atop his chest. “And where are you off to?” 

You smirked, “To some engagements for the court that I offered Helaena reprieve from. And after, you shall find me in our chambers… warming our bed… waiting impatiently for you.” You whispered the final part, watching as Aemond’s lilac eye darkened with want, pupils dilated that it made your core turn— finding it utterly flattering how quickly your husband will always grow in want of you. “Now go; the quicker you are to attend the meeting, the quicker they are to end, and you can be my arms.” You said and gave a final kiss on your husband’s cheek before hastily walking off, afraid that Aemond’s wants would get the better of him and take you against the alcove in the hall; it had occurred once or twice before. 

Aemond stomped off the room of the small council after a rather aggravating session with his brother. Seeing Aegon be so clueless with the matters of the realm and the war was pathetic. And in a way, Aemond found great satisfaction in that— seeing Aegon struggle to comprehend his words as he spoke in the ancient tongue, his brother unable to articulate even just one sentence without stammering like a simpleton was quite amusing but overly embarrassing. As the meeting ended, Aemond was quick to rise to his feet and leave, overly impatient to be with you— savoring every second in your arms before he had to leave quietly in the night to make good of his secret plottings with Ser Criston. 

Aemond walked the halls that led to his chambers, each step fervent and quick. The fading sun illuminated his chambers when he entered, setting it aglow in an amber hue. “I’ve been waiting,” Aemond heard you breathlessly call, his head quickly turning to your bed; he squinted his eye as he could not see you through the canopy covers. Aemond wasted no time to march in your direction; his breath caught in his throat as he saw your figure covered by nothing but a thin sheet that was comparable to what the whores in the street of silk wore. You lounged laxly in the middle of the bed, your body in full display for your husband, who stared at you dumbfounded and filled with desire. 

“Seven hells,” Aemond could not help but mutter in pure amazement. His knees felt weak, and his stomach coiled painfully in burning want of you. “Do you not like it?” You frowned as he only stood there, you feigned innocence— of course, you knew he would like it. You knew your husband better than he knew himself. Having grown up with him, you knew every possible thing there is to know about Aemond. Aegon may have been your betrothed at the start, but you were not at all keen to know him to such a deeper level than you had his brother. 

You went to the edge of the bed to meet your husband, who stood by the foot of it, kneeling before him as he hungrily raked his gaze through your body, yet he still did not dare to move. “Has my display rendered you simple, my prince?” You asked lowly, peeking up at him through your lashes and watching as the ball on his throat bobbed and hearing how his breathing turned ragged. You hummed and raised your hand to caress his cheek, rising higher to be met with his face, slyly pushing your breast against his clothed chest. Aemond groaned at just the simple feeling of that. You ghosted your lips against his jaw and neck, your fingers effortlessly undoing the buckles of his leather doublet. 

Your hand slowly trailed south after you had successfully removed his upper clothing; you heard the catch in Aemond’s breath as your fingers trailed his toned chest and torso. Every single inch of him was carved by the gods and embodied a warrior. Aemond hissed as he felt you cup his needing length through his trousers, watching as a sly smirk rose to your lips. “I see that you are quite… tense, my love,” You whispered against his lips, catching as his eye fluttered to a close as you added pressure into his length. “I am.” He gritted, and your smirk widened. “Hm… tell me then what do you need— what do you want, my prince?” You taunted and felt him shudder as you slipped your hand into his trousers, finally letting him feel skin against skin.

“I want… I need you, little wife. I desperately need you,” He muttered as his eye opened. Aemond moved to kiss your lips, but you instead lowered yourself to be met with his length, yanking down his trousers and letting your lips wrap around the tip of his needing and weeping cock. Aemond’s hands lost themselves in your hair, fisting the gold strands in utter pleasure, hissing as you sucked his length, urging yourself to take his cock deeper into your throat. Lewd sounds of your and Aemond’s heavy breathing, along with you gagging on his cock echoed through the chambers. Quiet praises leave your husband’s lips as you pleasure him with your mouth. You reached out to fondle his stones, earning a loud groan from him, and his head tilted to the heavens. Aemond could only stand there and marvel at you, his eye torn as to what to stare upon, your pretty face or your ample behind that hung in the air and squirmed with each of your pleasurable movements. He began to wonder what he had done to have you as his lady wife and pondered the ways he could prove himself worthy of you. 

Aemond felt himself ready to come undone, and he forcefully slipped out his cock from your lips, earning a whine from you. “Had I done something wrong?” You panted as you wiped away the traces of drool on your chin, looking up at Aemond with slight hurt in your eyes. Your husband was quick to shake his head and cup your cheeks, “No— you could never do me wrong, my heart,” He reassured, but you felt yourself pout and wonder as to why he had ceased your actions, if you were being honest, you quite enjoyed sucking his cock. 

“Then wh—“ Your words were left unfinished as you felt Aemond cup your dripping heat. Your eyes widened, and the earlier smirk on your lips had now flown to your husband’s. “Already so wet for me… you are a saint, my heart. Tending to my needs first even though you yourself are in desperate want of release.” Aemond hummed as your eyes rolled back; he effortlessly slipped two digits into your dripping core. You mewled out his name, squealing as he curled the digits and as his thumb fervently rubbed your sensitive pearl. “I want your cock,” You said distractedly, any form of decorum or chasteness gone as your want for Aemond had made you utterly desperate. 

Aemond let out an amused breath, “Of course you do,” He taunted and smashed his lips unto yours. You clawed at his toned arm as you felt your release bubbling, but before you could finally feel the climax you sought, Aemond parted your lips and ceased the pleasure of his fingers. You whined, glaring at your husband, who only stared down at you in amusement as he brought his fingers to his lips and licked off your essence. “Patience, my heart. All that you want shall come in due time,” He whispered his oath, and you huffed as he walked away, leaving you to wonder what had gotten into his mind. 

You lay on the bed as your husband went to one corner of your chambers. Your legs were spread, and your cunt was pulsating in need. You could not help yourself as your fingers slipped along the wet folds, holding back your moans as you touched yourself because you could not wait for your husband to give you your release. Aemond stilled as he heard your once still breathing hitch and the distant and quiet sound of your wetness. He turned to the bed and saw as your back was arched, and your fingers disappeared to pleasure your cunt. 

He took large strides only to witness you on the verge of an orgasm that he had denied you of. You groaned as Aemond took hold of your wrist, your second time being denied your release. “You’re being cruel, husband,” You whined as you stared up at your husband, a wicked glint in his eye. “Please, Aemond… I need you,” You breathed out, and all he did was hum. That was then you realized he held something in his other hand. You sat up, skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. Aemond moved his lips to pepper kisses on the side of your neck, bitting to leave his mark as a reminder as to who you belonged to. 

“Open it,” Aemond murmured against your skin as he placed a velvet box into your hands. You frowned as he continued on to pepper kisses on your neck and down the swell of your breasts, ripping off the thin sheet you had worn. You did as he told and felt a gasp escape your lips as you saw what was inside and as his fingers pinched the bud of your tit. “W—What is this for?” You said mind befuddled as you did not know where to focus, your husband’s gift or his pleasure. “It is for you, of course.” He said plainly, took the ruby tiara into his hands, and moved to place it atop your head. Aemond grew further with need at the sight of you flushed and naked; the only thing you had on was the tiara he had commissioned for you. 

You stared up at your husband in wonder, “I— It’s lovely… thank you, but my love, I am in no position to warrant a tiara— it is rather inappropriate, do you not think?” You asked and tried your best to focus as Aemond fondled your breasts. Aemond placed open kisses onto the side of your breasts, trying to form his words. “Aemond,” You called and Feld his face to look you in the eye. You delicately took off his eye patch as his lips pursed. “What is this for?” You asked once again. 

“Do you wish to be queen?” He instead asked you, and you were rendered speechless. “Do not deny it, my heart… You were born and bred with the purpose of being queen of the seven kingdoms.” He sighed, and you tried to find your words. “Even now, you bear the duties of a Queen that Helaena cannot tend to,” He added, as you were always by his sister’s side, aiding her with her duties until she all together left the role up to you. You let out a heavy breath. “I… Sometimes I do— seeing that was my whole purpose, why I was taken out of my parents’ care and instead raised here to do what was expected of me.” You admitted and felt your heart pit as Aemond avoided your gaze. “But I’d rather have married you than be queen.” You quickly added. 

“I may have wanted the title, Aemond… but I want you more. I am perfectly content with just being your wife,” You reassured, but something in Aemond burned in anger. Anger at the gods as to why he was born the second son— anger at himself as to why he had to seek out Aegon instead of just letting him escape. You sighed as you rested your forehead against Aemond’s, “Do you believe me?” You questioned and waited for his reply. Aemond bit his tongue not completely believing that you were perfectly content with your station because even he was not contented. He knew envy was a lesser emotion that he must not succumb to, but it was inevitable, especially as he bore witness to how his brother squandered off the most coveted station in the kingdom. He gave a nod and connected your lips, deciding to lay the matter to rest for the moment. 

You sighed and steadied yourself as he hoisted you on his lap, moans leaving your lips as you sank down on his cock. Aemond’s breathing labored as he felt your tight cunt around his length and as your nails left traces along his back. “Oh… gods, Aemond—“ You cried as you rocked your hips, the tip of his cock hitting the perfect spot that made your back arch and your eyes rolled back in utter pleasure. Your moans filled his ears, and Aemond could only hum with satisfaction. “You sound like such a whore, little wife,” he muttered as he reached downwards to trace circles on your nubbin. You could only whine louder, too focused as you bounced on his cock and sought out your high. “Such a vision you are… bouncing on my cock and moaning out my name with a tiara on your pretty head.” 

Aemond’s other hand harshly gripped your tit as he was overwhelmed by the feel of you. “So perfect you are,” He praised, and you smirked at him through the haze of pleasure, your cunt clenching further as you had always loved when he would compliment you. “Such a perfect wife— you would have been wasted on my squandering brother.” He gritted and groaned as you clenched around him tightly and as you nodded your head in agreement. “I was meant to be yours, Aemond,” You breathed as you felt your skin alight with your nearing climax. “You’re mine… all mine.” He groaned as you came undone, your loud moans spurring his own release. “All yours,” You swore and watched as his face contorted in pleasure. 

You sighed in contentment as you lay on Aemond’s chest and as he ran his hands through your hair. “I must leave,” He suddenly cut the silence. “I must meet with Cole,” You pursed your lips. “I know.” You said, trying not to let the tone of bitterness and concern be heard. Aemond furrowed his brows as he looked down upon you. You raised your gaze to meet his, “I know you, Aemond. I know you better than I know the back of my hand— did you really think I would not figure out that you had plotted secretly with Ser Criston?” You questioned, and Aemond sighed, his heart warming further for you as you uttered such words. 

You sat upright to gain a better view of your husband, Aemond already feeling cold, as you removed yourself from his chest. “Be cautious, my love— do not be so reliant on Vhagar. Swear that you will return to me unscathed.” You implored, and Aemond leaned forward to capture your lips. When your lips parted, whatever tenderness you had was hidden behind your serious and threatening expression, urging your husband to be cautious and vigilant. “You will not make me a widow at only nine and ten, Aemond.” You said, voice overly serious and gaze scorching, but your husband still had the gall to laugh. “I wouldn’t dare to, my heart.” He said and captured your lips once more to seal his oath that he would return to you unharmed. 

The whispers of vipers were deafening. ‘The king was slain,’ they would say. And murmurs had spread that the fall of the king was not caused by the Queen Who Never Was but rather by the One-Eyed Prince. You had stewed in silence as you could not possibly fathom what had happened. The only thing that had kept you sane was a single letter that came from your husband stating that he was well and would fly back and return to you in a day or two. 

You stood in the gardens alone as you pondered upon the whispers spreading around the keep when you felt strong hands wrap around your frame and lips pressing kisses upon your neck. Your tense frame momentarily turned lax at the touch of your husband. “I have missed you, my heart,” He said softly and tried to capture your lips— for him, a week was far too long not to be in your presence. Suspicion rose in you as you heard elation in his voice— elation that was rarely present in him. You turned and saw satisfaction glinting in Aemond’s eye. “What has happened?” You questioned, a sickening feeling in your stomach as your intuition told you that there was something afoot. 

Aemond frowned at the seriousness on your face. “We had won the battle— we had effectively cut off Dragonstone by land, my plan proven effective.” He said, dipping down to try and capture your lips, but you backed away, your movements sending a tinge to Aemond’s heart. “What has happened to Aegon?” You whispered and saw how quickly the satisfaction in your husband’s eye disappeared. “The king was inexperienced in battle— he fought against the qualms of his council, and now he reaps the consequences.” You shook your head as you studied each expression of your husband. “Who had caused his injuries? They are whispering that it was not made by Rhaenys but rather by his own brother… tell me the truth of it, Aemond.” 

Your husband sighed, stirring you to the side, away from prying eyes and ears. “It was an unfortunate incident… but it was a necessary one. The end justifies the means, my heart. You must know this.” He whispered, hoping to see understanding in your eyes, but he could only see horror. Your mind spun at the words your husband said; you felt bile rising to your throat because, within a blink of an eye, you scarcely recognized the man before you— the man you had spent your whole life with, unrecognisable. Aemond felt his heart sink as you shook your head and removed his hold on you, hastily running away from him.  

He knew what he had done was cruel— treasonous, but it was for the greater good. He could not watch idly as his brother commanded the throne even though he was unfit to rule. He could not stand to watch as Aegon squandered away his birthright and made their cause’s claim weak. It was a last resort that he had to succumb to— a last resort to save their faction and to prove himself worthy of you. Your words haunted him; the way you admitted that a part of you wished to be queen and the image of you wearing a tiara of rubies burned into his mind. He had to make it a reality. He needed to be king and have you by his side as his queen.  

You avoided your husband the following days, unable to comprehend what he had somehow become. You had always known he had great ambitions—you would lie if you said that you had not encouraged his, for you as well had your own—but you never meant for it to come to this. You never thought of the possibility that Aemond would kill for the throne. For revenge, yes, but certainly not for his own brother’s station. 

It was the day of Ser Criston’s return when you finally revealed yourself to Aemond. Standing by his side along with his mother as you three peered down on the few soldiers returning from battle, along with a cart that housed the fallen king who was clinging to life. You stared head-on as you felt the questioning and almost spiteful stare of the Queen Mother towards your husband. Not an ounce of remorse was shown by Aemond as he proudly wore the Valyrian steel dagger. 

The queen walked off, ready to meet her firstborn son, and you moved to follow, but your husband took hold of your upper arm and forced you to look upon him. “How long will you ignore me, little wife?” He hummed, growing impatient with each day of your ignorance of him. You stayed quiet, unable to meet his gaze. It was torture for you as well— you had missed your husband greatly, but the guilt you felt by his actions, which you knew were partly because of you, was greater. You long tried to hide your disappointment as you were not made queen; you thought it cruel that they had taken you away from the arms of your mother moments after your birth just to be raised in the keep and groomed to be the perfect and dotting wife of a king and take it all away with just one notion. 

All those years of effort and sacrifices were wasted. But you did not dwell on it further as they presented Aemond to be your husband instead. You knew he believed you and your family see him as a consolation prize— and for your house, he was, but for you, you would gladly trade away all the gold in your house’s coffers and the crown for Aemond. You had loved him ever since you two were children; you were intended for Aegon, but your heart had always longed for his younger brother. It was a shame that he could not see it until now. 

It was flattering that he tried to prove himself to you— that he says he does not deserve you, but you could never agree to such sentiments because you knew in yourself that you were meant to be his. It pains you that whatever you say, whatever you do to reassure him that you are happy and content in his arms, even without the prestige of titles, he still does not believe you. 

Aemond felt his heart twist further as you shook your head and walked off. He followed you quietly as you two ventured to the chambers of the king to bear witness to the price of ambition. You could not will yourself to walk in; the distant sight of Aegon filled with burns, clinging to life, along with his death rattle breathing, was enough for you to flee away. Aemond watched as you stumbled through the halls, unable to bear the sight of what he had done. It was only then did Aemond felt guilt. Not guilt for what he had done to his brother but guilt as he saw your reaction— it was only then did he realized that the weight of his actions would affect his lady-wife as well. 

It was sundown when your uncle sought you out. Telling you what had transpired in the small council and how Aemond was named Prince Regent. He as well questioned you as to what you knew about the battle in Rook’s Rest and if your husband had confided in you any secrets, as all who had returned from the battlefield kept a tight lip. You said not a word. Your loyalty to your husband has proven to be greater than your guilt for Aegon’s state. 

“Greatly unfortunate as the events were… I must say that the council and I are relieved that your husband shall see to the concerns of the Realm.” Your uncle muttered, and you sat stiffly in your seat. “Really?” You asked in a small voice. “King Aegon might be the firstborn, but all are aware that Aemond has the tact to rule. Let us pray that he would lead our side to victory— his brother certainly cannot.” He sighed as he stood, kissing your cheek as he exited your private chambers, leaving you to ponder on his words. 

A storm came at night, and you could not find rest as your husband was not by your side. The rain and thunder always made you uneasy, and at times like these, you greatly relied on Aemond for comfort. You walked the path to your marital chambers and peeked inside, only to see your husband was absent. You walked along the cold halls of the keep, searching for Aemond in his usual spots, but to no avail. Your feet carried you to the great hall, and there you found him, staring upon the iron throne. You bit your lip as you studied him, staring at the prize of his efforts. 

Aemond felt a presence join him, and he turned his gaze and was met with you. “Was it worth the price?” You questioned, a steely look on his face as he thought over your words. You stood still as your husband took slow strides towards you. “If it proves me worthy of you, then it does.” You let out a breath as he said the words. “Aemond… how many times must I repeat myself— you do not need to prove yourself to me. I— I love you unconditionally. I do not need the throne or a crown… can you still not see that all I want is you?” 

Aemond cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. “What’s done is done. We need not dwell on this matter, my heart. What is important is that we got what we wanted— we finally have what we deserve.” He whispered, lips flying towards yours. You felt weak as your lips entangled with your husband’s. “This… this is not right.” You whispered as his kisses trailed down to your neck and to the valley of your breasts, his fingers slipping off the shift you wore, leaving you standing bare in the middle of the throne room. “What is not right is that our efforts and potential are wasted as those who are unfit for the title, rule. We were made for the throne, my heart… stop resisting it; you know it is the truth.” 

You breathed heavily as you watched your husband fall to his knees, and his lips kissed your cunny. “Admit what you want, my heart.” His voice muffled against your skin, your hands moving to grip his hair and steady yourself as his tongue drew circles upon your cunt. You feel him grip your thighs, urging you to speak. “You… I want you.” You cried, desperately writhing your cunt against his face. “And?” He questioned, and you tilted your head back, your climax quick to come as your body ached for your husband’s touch. “To be queen… I want you and be queen,” You admitted with a gasp as you felt his tongue enter your dripping core. Aemond smirked against your cunt; his body fueled with need as he tasted your essence. When you came undone, he greedily licked and lapped any remnants of your release, not at all conscious that you two may be caught in such compromising situations. 

You watched through the haze of your release as your husband stood and undid his trousers. Your gaze followed him as he stood behind you and slipped in his length; your loud, surprised moan echoed through the empty hall and was accompanied by the clap of thunder. You cried as Aemond mercilessly pounded into your cunt, your dazed gazes planted on the throne. You gasped for air as Aemond wrapped his calloused hand around your throat and urged you to rest your weight on his leather-covered chest; all the while, his thrusts were relentless. “Are you to come? Are you to come before the throne, my wife?” He taunted in your ear, biting the lobe, and you could only cry in pleasure, your body arching and your hips meeting each of his thrusts. “Yes… yes!” You cried as his other hand returned to its usual torment and drew circles upon your cunt. 

You threw your head back upon Aemond’s shoulders as you were met with your second release. With a few more thrusts, you feel him come undone, his seed filling your cunt, and he could only hope that it would finally take, for he surely needed heirs. Aemond turned your head to face his and kissed your lips, finally feeling a speck of calm in his raging being, for he knew he had secured the station that you both deserved. 

As you two tried to relish in the calm brought by your climaxes, outside the great hall, the castle was in an uproar as the king drew in his last breath. Men searching for the prince regent to inform him of the dire news. They scoured every corner of the castle and soon found their new king seated on the iron throne with his queen bouncing on his cock, Aemond fucking her in their rightful place.

[solarmorrigan]

cw: implied sexual content, mentions of anxiety/PTSD responses

-

The first time Eddie lifts him off his feet, Steve is pretty sure he has an out of body experience.

He’s never dated anyone as strong as he is, is the thing. It isn’t that he hadn’t dated girls who were strong—cheerleading takes more muscle than many people seem to think, and there had been a couple of girls from the soccer team besides that—but none of them had been strong enough to just casually lift Steve up.

But Eddie does it. He does it mid-makeout session, doesn’t even break the kiss as he gets his hands under Steve’s thighs and lifts him up to sit on the counter he’d been pinned against. And maybe it doesn’t break Eddie’s concentration, but it shatters Steve’s.

He stops kissing back long enough to make Eddie pull away and ask, “What’s wrong?”

Wrong? Steve’s heart is racing, his face is flushed, his lips are kiss-bruised, and he’s sitting on top of his kitchen counter because Eddie had put him there – just grabbed his legs and hoisted him up, left his hands resting on Steve’s thighs, and Steve can feel them burning through his jeans, which are suddenly quite a bit tighter.

Nothing is wrong.

“That was hot,” Steve blurts, and Eddie blinks at him.

“What? Me lifting you up?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

A slow smirk spreads across Eddie’s face. “You like that?” he asks. “That I can throw you around a little?”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps, surprising even himself with the raw want in his voice. Given his history with people throwing him around, it shouldn’t be something he wants, but the more he thinks about it—the more he thinks about Eddie doing it—the more appealing it becomes.

“The information is noted and will be filed away for later consideration,” Eddie says, like the fucking nerd he is, and when he leans back in to kiss Steve, he digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs, holding him tight, like he might leave little bruises when he pulls away. (Steve hopes he does.)

Eddie doesn’t abuse the knowledge he’s been given, but he does put it to good use.

He pulls Steve across the couch and into his lap, holding him close with his arms looped around his waist, making Steve feel wanted and warm.

He manages to pick Steve up and spin him around, laughing as he does so, making Steve laugh, making him feel light and adored.

He carries Steve to the bedroom, his hands hooked firmly under Steve’s ass, Steve’s legs wrapped around his hips, arms around his shoulders, and tosses him onto the bed, making Steve feel very much like he wants Eddie to fuck him.

Then, reasonably assured that Steve is enjoying the treatment, Eddie ups his game. He pins Steve to the wall of the bedroom one evening, fisting a hand in his shirt and pushing him back, leaning heavily into his space, and Steve is for a moment viscerally reminded of another time and place. He thinks about the smell of lake water and dust, of the prick of sharp glass against his skin, of the frightened and desperate look in Eddie’s eyes.

But the memory is chased away by the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his. This is so much better – this is Eddie’s free hand running gently through Steve’s hair, this is the warm, familiar weight of Eddie’s body pressing into him, this is Eddie’s thigh shoved between Steve’s legs. This is good.

Eddie grips Steve’s hair close to his scalp and pulls. Steve moans and mindlessly grinds down.

It becomes a new and intimate normal, something they barely even have to think about, something that just feels right. Even when Steve starts out on top, the instigator, the one in control, it’s easy for Eddie to turn the tables.

As Steve straddles him on the bed now, both their shirts lost but the effort to rid themselves of their pants temporarily derailed, Steve is too eager in his pursuit of Eddie’s mouth to notice the coiling tension in the body below him.

He doesn’t notice until the tension springs, and Steve finds himself rolled onto his back with Eddie weighing him down. Quicker than Steve can keep up, Eddie is straddling his waist, taking his wrists and pulling his arms above his head, pinning them to the mattress.

Instinctively, Steve struggles against the hold, but he has no leverage, and Eddie’s grip remains firm. Steve can’t move – yet the expected wave of panic never comes.

He doesn’t feel trapped beneath Eddie, he feels secure, like Eddie is shielding him, keeping him safe. The hold on his wrists keeps him tethered to the Earth when the rest of him feels like floating away, and Steve tugs a little more so Eddie will grip him tighter. He hopes it leaves marks, wants to wear the bruises like bracelets in the shape of Eddie’s fingers.

Then Eddie pulls back, ends the kiss to ask, “This okay?”

He sounds serious, like he really wants to know, like he’ll let Steve go the moment he asks, which is precisely why Steve nods quickly and begs, “Please don’t stop.”

And Eddie grins and leans back in for another kiss, holding Steve tight.

[Prompt: Rolling over in bed, switching positions during a kiss]

[bunnys-kisses]

scary dog privilege

simon "ghost" riley

cw: smut/pwp, loving!ghost, size difference/kink, body worship, praise kink, missionary

  “simon? a scary dog? no way!” you laughed as you had another sip of your coffee. you were meeting with a few of your friends and they were curious about your boyfriend. they had met him a few times and thought you two were a good match, despite simon's scary appearance. one of your friends suggested that simon was akin to a scary dog. and the notion made you laugh.

your simon? the one who brought you home flowers every time he returned back to england. the one who doted on you that one time you had a really bad headache. the same simon that figured out the recipe to one of your favourite childhood dishes! he went through all the trouble to contact your grandmother and find out exactly how to make it because he loved you that much. 

  “he dresses in all-black and is so tall. it's a little scary!” your friend admitted. 

you laughed, “oh you guys are so funny. simon's a huge sweetheart! literally the other day he was nice enough to make me some homemade ice tea so i would have something cool to drink when i got home from work!” 

your friends looked at each other, as long as you weren't in a situation you didn't want to be in. then who were they to judge, simon never laid a hand on you that you didn't want on you. however, they worried that the people who tried to push your boundaries were not as lucky as you. you continued to chat happily with your friends, your sweet coffee tasted good on your tongue. you were all cooing and blushing over your beloved boyfriend simon!

and during the course of your time with your friends, they were almost convinced that simon was less of a pitbull and more of a golden retriever. that was until the imposing soldier came through the front door of the cafe. the heavy steps of his boots could be heard as he approached the table you were seated at with your friends. 

he definitely looked more like guard dog than a lap dog. 

you looked over and your expression changed to one of glee as you put your drink down and reached for your boyfriend. you babbled at him about how you were talking about him, and he responded with short nods and not many words. you were for sure more of the talker than he was. you finished your drink, even sharing some with simon before you gave all your friends hugs and left with your scary boyfriend. 

simon adored you, therefore you hardly noticed how tall he was, how big every part of him was, the medical mask he always wore, but you knew what was underneath. simon didn't scare you as he did others, he was your loving boyfriend of the last few years. he was a nerd about history facts and loved manchester united. he drank his tea black and his coffee with two sugars.  he wasn't scary. 

even though on your way home and you were giving some directions, simon was over your shoulder glaring daggers at the person receiving your instructions. afterwards you took simon's hand and swung your hands as you walked towards the tube station. you sat close to him on the train, his large arm over your shoulders and occasionally you kissed any exposed skin on his face. 

you hardly noticed when simon was giving the death glare to someone else on the train who was eyeing you up and down. if you weren't at simon's side, he would've made himself known to the man eyeing you. made sure that the other man wasn't going to cause any problems. last thing he wanted was for it to get physical.

  “si?” you looked at him curiously, noticing he hadn't moved in a good moment. 

  “don't worry, love. thought i saw something.” 

you nodded and melted back into his side until it was time to get off the train. simon just adored you, he thought you brought the sunrise to him every morning. you had captured his heart quite easily. you were soft, not weak. you were far from weak, you could take anything and then some. but you were a lot softer than him, all the way down to your smooth hands that touched his scars. your heart was always in the right place and simon felt the need to protect you. 

after dinner you were snuggled up with your big handsome boyfriend. you felt comfortable next to him.  you spread your hand across his strong chest and pressed yourself up against him. you asked him, “si, do you think you're a scary dog?”

  “a scary dog?”

  “yeah, like when i walk down the street with you no one wants to approach us because you're so scary!”

he chuckled and pulled you closer to him, “well, i wouldn't say i'm scary. but you are.” he said as a joke, you wouldn't hurt a fly. literally, last time there was a fly in your flat you coaxed the insect out through an open window. 

you chuckled and leaned up to kiss him, “well, i guess i have to protect you then.” you flexed your bicep and laughed some more. simon just pinned you to him and kissed the shell of your ear all the way down your neck. this only caused you to squirm against him as you laughed more. 

  “i guess so, maybe i should give you a ‘thank you’ for doing such a good job protecting me.” he said with a certain softness in his voice. 

you held onto the front of his shirt and gave him a mischievous glance, “i guess you do. i do love rewards.” then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. you then got out of your boyfriend's grasp and took him by the hand delicately and led him towards your shared bedroom. you could feel the flush in your cheeks. you couldn't help but giggle at how much you loved your boyfriend. 

in the bedroom, simon grabbed you from under the pits and almost tossed you onto the big bed you both shared.  you sat on it and quickly got your t-shirt off, followed by your sweatpants that you had rolled up to the knees. simon helped you get your socks off along with your bra. you then laid out under him in just a cheap pair of cotton panties. 

simon's hands roamed your body, he was naked as well. his cock stood proud between his legs. enticing you. he really was so much bigger than you, he wasn't one of those dehydrated muscle guys. no, no, he had a bulk to him that was lined with muscles. he could easily lift two of you, if not more, with relative ease. 

  “you look like a dream.” he said softly, “every time i go away, i'm thinkin' about ya, love. thinkin' about those pretty eyes, your soft skin, the little scar on your cheek, those nice thighs. i'm thinkin' about every inch of my woman.” his words made your chest soar as you felt warmth in his presence.  his hands continued to roam, feeling the valleys of your body before they rested on the the waistband on your underwear. 

slowly he took them off with a little help from you. it left you both naked. simon leaned in and kissed you once more, his hands were on your breasts and he palmed them softly. he never wanted to hurt his beautiful girl. he could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from how much you were blushing. simon left a few more kisses because he pulled back to grab you by the hips. 

you wrapped your legs around your lover and smiled up at him. bright like the afternoon sun. he held onto your hips with one hand and the other was wrapped around his cock as he rubbed his length up against your sweet cunt. he shuddered and you wanted to cover your face with your hands. but you knew that simon loved when he was able to see you.

  “ready for me?” he asked. 

you nodded and shifted your hips a little. you winced a little when you felt the initial stretch of his cock. you exhaled deeply and relaxed as he slotted his cock snugly inside of you. you reached for him and held onto his shoulders as he pressed his strong chest against yours. you swore you could feel the race in his heart rate. 

  “you take me so well.” he purred, “you take me perfectly. nobody else can take this like you can.” he planted his hands on either side of you on the bed and pushing his cock up into you. he felt the sweat at the nape of his neck and it felt good all over. 

  “i'm made just for you, si.” you giggled as you squirmed a little bit, but simon's much larger body kept you pinned down onto the bed. you two moved against one another, there was sparse kisses shared between the two of you as the bed creaked under your movements. 

simon felt like you other half, you couldn't believe that the man for you was a burly over 6ft tall soldier who loved and adored you. who'd do anything for you. you didn't understand dhow anyone could find him terrifying. he was just so doting on you. even his kisses were soft as he rocked against you. his cock nudged against some of your most sensitive areas. 

the love making between you two continued, you kept your legs around your lover and let him shove his cock up into you. the kissed became heavier as the pleasure bloomed in your body. you panted a little between kisses and knew that orgasm was creeping up on you. there was something about simon that made you hot all over. he knew exactly how to love you.

  “i love you.” he said softly. he placed his hands closer to your head and kissed you softly between heavy thrusts. his whispered praises you could barely hear against your neck as he felt the sweat on his back, his entire body felt hot but it was also an amazing feeling.  he muttered, “i'm close.” and picked up his pace. 

you met his thrusts and let the pleasure melt in your body. you clutched onto him and tightened your legs around his waist. your gummy walls felt so good around him and he buried his face in your neck as he gave a few more powerful thrusts. he came inside of you with a shudder but kept up the pace of his thrusts until you came as well. you held onto him, nails dug into his shoulders as you arched you back a little. 

simon slowed down his pace until it came to a stand still with his softening cock still inside of you. the blond wiped the sweat from his forehead as he pulled you in for another hot kiss. he then slowly pulled out and took hold of you. his strong arms around you as you laid on top of the covers. his legs tangled in yours as you both tried to catch your breath.

  “i don't think you're a scary dog, si.” you yawned as you got comfortable. 

simon chuckled, his brown eyes slightly closed, “oh yeah? all the tattoos and dark clothes aren't scary enough for ya?”

you turned over to face him and presses a kiss on his crooked nose, “nope, because i know once we get out of bed you'll be getting me my favorite bowl and two healthy scoops of cookies n' cream ice cream.” then beamed at him. 

  “ah well, of course. only the best for my girl.” he kissed you on the cheek. he may be scary to everyone, but to you he was just a little lap dog. <3

[nebulaafterdark]

At The Pleasure Of The Crown

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.

It begins in the pleasure house, when Aegon tears back one of the curtains to find his brother. Nude and curled around one of the women.

“Haha,” Aegon points, “Aemond the fierce.”

Even the guardsmen there on Aegon’s behalf, shift uncomfortably as he begins taunting his brother. Though none of them will say as much.

“Stop it, you awful man.” Y/N bats at her husband.

He catches her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “Awful man?” Aegon muses, “that’s not very nice, my only love.”

“You are mean.”

Aegon frowns, “not to you.”

“You should not be mean to your brother either.”

“Are you truly angry with me?” He asks, releasing her wrists to twirl a bit of dark hair around his finger.

“Yes,” Y/N pouts.

“Please, say it isn’t so, my darling girl.” Aegon wraps his arms tightly around her, peppering her face with kisses. “I adore you.”

She says nothing, sighing against him. Stroking the stubble on his chin.

He chases her finger with his lips, “forgive me.”

“Be kind.” Y/N insists.

“Of course,” he nods, “I will be on my best behavior. I swear it.”

Y/N kisses his lips once in parting, shooing him away.

“My wife,” Aegon says to the crowd of men, “she is better than I deserve.” He stands, holding the curtain back, “I will miss her dearly.” Aegon pulls himself away, “now, a round of drinks for all; at the pleasure of the crown!”

Y/N smiles, with a shake of her head. “Might you excuse us?” She asks of Aemond’s company.

“Of course, your grace.” The older woman nods, taking her leave.

“I apologize for Aegon. I do hope you were finished, at least.”

Aemond says nothing.

“I’ve given up the opportunity to bed a woman to be here with you.” Y/N tells him, “let no one say I do not treat you fairly.”

“You should go to her. My brother does so love when there are two of you.”

“At least I’m loved.”

“He loves you to the fullest extent he is capable.”Aemond understands well. “What suprises me most is that you allow these behaviors.”

“Aegon is who he is, we can choose to either love or loath him for it.” Some people are born with sadness sewn in.

“Why love him then, if it is your choice?”

“Why do you come back to this place for comfort?” Y/N purses her lips, “why does anyone?”

Aemond stares blankly, awaiting an answer.

“Because it’s what we know. My late grandsire, the king, insisted it was my duty to keep Aegon contented. I have performed my duty.”

“My father has been dead for years now, with your mother seated peacefully upon his throne.” He hums, “you don’t strike me as a woman content forever unchanging.”

Y/N makes herself comfortable on the silk sheets, lying fully clothed beside Aemond, in all his glory. “I am content.”

He continues staring, studying her, allowing gentle hands to brush hair away from his face.

“Do you like to be petted?”

“Do you enjoy drowning in cups? Or is that another of my brother’s interests being forced upon you?”

“Aegon’s never forced me to do a thing.” Y/N admits, “he lives only to please me.”

“I will say that must be true, considering he does not have a hoard of bastards in the fighting pit.”

“He is careful.” Y/N confirms, “he told me once that our children were kissed by the gods because our love created them. He is particularly rigid about moon tea, even with his favorite ladies.”

“For once, my brother and I see eye to eye.”

“And where, on this matter, do you differ?”

“If you were my wife, I would not allow you here. You would scarcely see the outside of our chambers.”

“You would lock me away?”

“I certainly would not leave you alone with him, in a room at the pleasure house.” Aemond drawls.

“Aegon believes our bodies are naught but vessels for pleasure and of course, producing heirs. He holds little interest in who warms my bed, so long as he is the only one to know my heart.” Y/N explains. “He is fiercely possessive over it.”

“That is what I would desire most from you.”

“We would never lie together?”

Aemond sighs, “we would. Every hour. Until you were molded in the shape of me.”

Y/N swallows, harshly.

“That is the way I would love you.”

————————————————————————

Y/N makes her way down to the library, on nights she cannot sleep. Happening across Prince Aemond, who she’s scarcely seen since that night in the pleasure house. He lazes about one of the chairs, with a large book in hand.

Y/N thinks at first, she best not disturb him, but as she passes, he stares up at her. “What are you reading?”

“The anthology of serpents.”

“Is it any good?”

“I am reading in the hopes of finding sleep. It works best if the subject doesn’t interest me.” Aemond drags a finger along the edge of the page, flipping to the next.

“Right.” Y/N sifts through titles on the shelves.

“Have you read Aegon’s journal entries?”

“My husband keeps a journal? This is news to me.” Aegon’s never had much fascination with literature.

“The Conqueror.” Aemond clarifies.

“Of course,” Y/N shakes her head, “Aegon the Conqueror.”

“It’s a good read, in-”

“Three parts,” Y/N nods, “I’ve read them all.”

“Do you come to this place often?”

“Nearly every night.” The princess confirms.

“Always alone? Or accompanied by your husband?”

“A-alone.” She stammers, “I am often alone.”

“That is unfortunate.” Aemond hums. “Mayhaps I might find you here again.”

He does, of course. The next night and the night after that.

“Is it more comfortable with the eye patch on, or off?” Y/N wonders, having spent a fair share of time staring at him both ways.

“It makes little difference. The covering is mostly for the comfort of others, namely my mother. She was always quite saddened by the sight of it.”

“The sapphire is beautiful.” Y/N clears her throat.

“I’m glad you approve of your brother’s work.”

Y/N taps a finger against her wedding band as she speaks, “Lucerys is a gentle soul. It is not in his nature to attack viciously. He must’ve been very frightened.”

Aemond stands abruptly, leaving without a word. What could she know of what transpired between them that night in Driftmark? She was off nursing Aegon as he drowned in his cups.

Y/N returns to her apartments, finding comfort beneath the covers, she is nearly asleep when the door opens.

“What are you doing in here?” Aegon squints at her.

“I went to your rooms first, my love.” She yawns, “you were not there.”

“I need you in my bed.” Aegon tells her, “I need you always.”

“And you shall have me always. Come lie with me.” Y/N pats the space beside her.

Aegon strips down to his small clothes and joins her beneath the covers. “I thought you’d left me.”

Y/N sighs, passing a hand through his hair as he rests his head against her chest. “Why would I leave you, Aegon?”

“Because I am not worth staying for.” The words are muffled in the fabric of her nightgown.

“I love you.” Y/N reminds him. “I will not leave.”

————————————————————————

Y/N and Aemond spend many a night reading, seated across from each other. Though he was not thrilled about their conversation concerning Lucerys, Aemond never misses an evening.

They discuss their findings, when there is anything of interest in the history pages.

“I happened across this passage here,” Y/N plops the book unceremoniously into Aemond’s lap.

“Mmm,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably, “there goes the family jewels.”

Y/N covers her mouth with a hand. “Forgive me.”

“Mayhaps we might try something different this night. If you’re up to it.”

Y/N takes his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her out to the training ground. “I am not trained by the sword.”

“I could teach you.” Aemond makes for the wooden training blades. “They will not cut you, but it is not pleasant to be struck.” He warns.

Y/N reaches out, grabbing the hilt. Testing the weight of it in her hand.

“Widen your stance.” Aemond tells her.

Y/N shuffles her feet apart, “like this?”

“Close enough.”

Her dark brows furrow in concentration and when their swords meet, Aemond relishes in the little grunting noises she makes.

“Ao vīlībagon olvie sȳrī syt mēre qilōni knows daorun hen egros.” You fight quite well for one who knows nothing of the sword.

She smiles, “bodmagho nyke skorkydoso naejot tatagon ao hen.” Teach me how to finish you off.

Aemond chuckles, “do not tempt me, girl.”

Y/N lunges for him, an untrained hand against the master, leaving herself exposed to his attack.

He uses the tip of his sword to lift her chin, “I win.”

She swallows, batting it away. “I want to go again.”

And so they do, until she is spent. Collapsing on the ground, as though he’s truly run her through with the blade. Aemond finds this more amusing than he lets on.

“Up,” he demands, “you will make a mess of yourself, rolling around in the dirt.”

“I will surely bathe after our activities, you needn’t worry.”

“Do you need me to carry you back to your apartments then?”

“After a while.” Y/N grins, resting a hand beneath her head as a makeshift pillow to gaze up at the night sky.

“What are you doing?” Aemond hovers over her.

“See for yourself.” Y/N insists.

Aemond grumbles, taking a seat in the dirt before fully reclining. “The moon?”

“The stars,” Y/N tells him. “When I was a girl my mother would point to the stars and ask what we saw in them.”

“To what possible end?”

Y/N shrugs, “entertainment, I suppose. Or gods forbid, fun.”

“What do you see?” Aemond asks, turning his face toward her.

“Well, just there, I see a hound.” Y/N points to a cluster of lights.

“A hound?” Aemond cocks his head to the side, following the line of her finger.

“Can’t you see?”

“Not at all.” He smirks.

“What do you see then?”

“A crown.” Aemond tells her.

“Where?” Y/N shuffles closer to him, hoping to see.

“Beside the sword.”

“There is no sword.”

“And I say, there is no hound.”

Aegon stumbles out towards the pair, listening to them bicker. “What are you doing?”

“Looking upon the stars, my love. Come lie with us.” Y/N waves him over.

Aegon smiles, indulgently. “Alright.” He joins them on the ground, opposite his brother, Y/N in the middle. “Not very comfortable, is it?”

“The sky is beautiful, is it not?”

Aegon blinks at it once, before turning back to her. “You are my moon and stars.”

Y/N rolls atop of him, kissing the expanse of his face, ten times over.

Oh to be so loved.

Aemond withdraws, prepared to take his leave.

“Goodnight, Aemond.” Y/N calls after him.

With a shake of his head, he calls back, “goodnight.”

————————————————————————

Aemond will never admit the amount of times his brother’s wife dances cross his mind during the day. He does his best to distract himself.

The sound of laughter travels down the hall, from their children’s rooms. Aegon is not much, in his brother’s eye. But even Aemond cannot deny fatherhood suits him.

“And then, from the sky, a big scary dragon swoops down to claim its next victim!” Aegon flaps his arms, parading around like a fool, as his children scatter. Giggling and hollering all the while.

Their youngest son runs to Y/N for protection.

“Come, my dearest love. I will save you.” She smiles, taking the little boy into her lap.

Aemond stands in the crack of the door; watching the scene unfold.

Princess Y/N grins from ear to ear as her husband gallops over, enveloping her in his arms.

“Oh no, mother! You’ve been eaten by the dragon.” Her daughter laughs.

“And I am still hungry.” Aegon smiles, turning his attention back to the eldest children.

Aemond turns away, continuing down the hall. Mayhaps he does want children. Mayhaps he wants them with her, but such things are foolish to desire. So he refuses to.

————————————————————————

“How do you get your hair so straight?” Y/N wonders. “It used to have wave to it, like Aegon’s.”

“From the looks of Aegon’s hair he could do with better hygiene.”

“Be kind,” Y/N chides him. “He has beautiful hair.”

“If you want access to trade secrets, you must allow me to speak freely.” Aemond challenges.

“I love Aegon.”

Aemond nods. “Of course”

“And that is fine by you?”

He smirks, “you’ve only now thought to ask?”

“I had not thought so much of it before.” She admits, “but now it is all I can-”

“If it is my permission you seek to continue loving your husband, I have overstepped.”

Y/N bites her tongue.

“I doubt he is asking whores for their blessing to go on loving you.”

“I wish only to be fair to you.” Y/N searches his eye.

“From the moment you pulled back the curtain in the pleasure house, you have been unfair to me.” Aemond tells her, “made my heart ache for you, made me long for you, then left with my brother when you were through. It did not seem to bother you then.”

“I did not mean for this to happen.”

“I believe that is true. You are not wanton for the suffering of others, but sometimes these things happen.”

“I am finished, if you’re angry with me.”

“Has no one been angry at you before?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Then, I am honored to be the first.” He brushes a kiss to her cheek. “Before you go, I have something for you.”

Y/N swallows.

“Turn around.” Aemond murmurs, reaching into his breast pocket.

Y/N does as she’s told, catching only a glimpse of glimmering metal before it meets her skin. Clasping at the back of her neck.

Aemond walks her toward his mirror, brushing dark hair over her shoulders so she can see it properly.

“Why give this to me now, if you are angry?” Her brows furrow.

Aemond traces a finger along her collarbone. “You will find that people are multifaceted. We have imperfections and sharp edges, but we are a direct reflection of the light shone upon us.”

————————————————————————

The necklace is beautiful, enough that even Aegon takes notice. Raising the subject in their chambers unlacing the back of her dress. The material falls free, pooling at her feet. Leaving only her shift and small clothes, which soon meet the same end.

“That is a lovely necklace, darling girl.” He runs his finger along the glittering blue jewels, hanging above her breasts. It looks familiar to him, though he cannot say why. His wife is often dripping in jewels he’s gifted her. There is no way of remembering them all. “Was it buried at the back of your jewelry box?”

Y/N smiles, bringing his hand up to kiss his fingertips and then place them upon her breasts. “It was a gift.”

“From whom, my only love?” He forces a grin, kneading the fleshy mounds.

“Aemond.”

No. A blow directly to his gut. He nods, giving the peaks of her breasts a tug before letting them fall free, sensitive and aching. “Upon the bed, my heart.” He smiles.

Y/N returns the gesture, sitting at the edge of the mattress.

“Lie back for me.”

Y/N does as he asks, allowing her legs to fall open, out of habit.

“Good girl.” Aegon drops to his knees, pressing his face to the altar and begins to pray. Every cruel word spoken against him does not exist here. He is safe between her thighs, with gentle hands carding his hair.

He would spend hours there, if she let him. Ignoring the bite of overstimulation to soothe his need for her. His jaw aches, working her writhing body through one peak to the next.

“Fuck,” Y/N sobs. Fighting the urge to press against his head for reprieve.

Aegon takes her hands in his, knotting their fingers together. When he tires of all her squirming, he trails kisses up to her pretty face. Nuzzling her nose with his own as he thumbs away tears.

Y/N sighs, contently. Relaxing enough to calm her breathing.

Aegon lowers his face to her breasts then, rolling and plucking at her nipples until they stand at attention. Sucking them between his teeth, laving his tongue over them until they too are sensitive. He leans up, pecking one final kiss to her lips before heading back to her cunt.

He spreads her legs wide, until her outer thighs rest on the mattress and his hands grip the insides firmly. “I am not finished.” He whispers.

Y/N whines, covering her face with both hands.

“I will be gentle.” He hushes her. “So, so, gentle.”

She cries out at the feel of his tongue lapping her folds. Everything ablaze.

He draws one last peak from his dearest love before he is satisfied, leaving her a quivering mess. “I want another child.”

Y/N nods, willing to give him anything.

“Turn around for me, up on your knees.”

Y/N rolls onto her belly, pushing up on her elbows and knees.

“Poor, little thing, leaking all over.” Aegon croons. “Does my brother not satisfy you?”

“We do not lie together.” Y/N tells him.

“What is it you do together?” Aegon’s lips twitch.

“Talk.”

He huffs a laugh. “You could talk to anyone, dearest. Why him?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “he is quite fascinating.”

“Have you come to care for him?”

“In the way you care for your ladies, I would wager.”

Aegon blinks, slightly dazed, as though he’s never considered it. “I love nothing in this world the way I love you.”

“As I love you.” Y/N peeks over her shoulder at him.

Aegon lines up his aching cock, sliding into her warm, with ease.

Y/N sighs, relishing the feel of him.

Aegon’s thoughts are plagued by the stupid sapphire necklace, bouncing between her breasts. Glittering against the bedding in the soft candle light, laughing at him.

He’s caught off guard by the force which possesses him to move her hair aside and yank the chain until it snaps.

“Ah,” Y/N rears back, clutching the skin of her burning neck.

“I am so terribly sorry, my only love.” Aegon apologizes, gathering her up, with her back to his chest. “It caught on my ring.” He kisses what he can reach of her flesh. He shouldn’t have done it, he knows it was wrong and he hates that he’s hurt her. “I will buy you a new necklace.”

Y/N reaches a hand back to caress his hair, eyes brimming with tears. “It felt as though you tugged.”

Aegon nuzzles her shoulder, leaning into her touch. “I will never harm you on purpose. Forgive me.”

Y/N nods, “of course.”

He turns her face toward him, enough for their lips to meet.

————————————————————————

Aemond does not see Y/N again, not for two nights. Whatever hold the wench has over him will not allow him to surpass that.

He finds her pacing the corridor nearest the library, wringing her hands. “What troubles you, Princess?”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “Aemond.”

“You have not been to the library.”

“I thought it best,” she nods.

“Why?” He leans against the pillar beside her.

“I do not wish to hurt you. After we last spoke, I realized that…”

“You would rather pace in a corridor, inflicting your own suffering than harm me?”

“I suppose I would.”

“If I wish to speak with Aegon about us, would you be opposed?” Aemond asks.

“What would you say?” Her eyes widen.

He taps her chin, “that is none of your concern, sweetling.”

“I love him dearly.” Y/N says, grabbing for his hand.

“Our marriage would only further serve to strengthen your claim to the throne. With Aegon and I at your side, there would be no one to contest you. Your mother, the Queen would be elated to have your claim upheld so fiercely.”

“You raised this matter with my mother?” Y/N whispers.

“I had to be sure it was an option, as I know you will forever toil in servitude of the crown. An honorable venture, for which you will find yourself in need of a King Consort well versed in the histories and matters of the realm.” Aemond takes another step toward her.

“A generous offer,” Y/N nods. “Still I must discuss this with my husband before any decision can be made.”

“Of course,” Aemond smiles.

————————————————————————

Y/N does discuss it with Aegon that night and the mere suggestion lands him in his brother’s room, prepared to kill him.

“I offered you a kindness, to wean you off of that woman at the pleasure house and this is how you repay me? By spitting in my face?” Aegon screams, the veins of his neck pulsing and red with fury.

“While you are busy fucking whores, it is my company your wife seeks. It is her mind which needs stimulating, and however unfortunate, I do not believe you are suited for the task.” Aemond holds both arms behind his back, unfazed by Aegon’s outburst.

“Y/N is the most precious thing in this world to me. She is mine, she has always been mine, she is always going to be mine. Take her cunt, if you must, but nothing more.”

Aemond purses his lips, “we are at an impasse then. I am quite taken with the whole of her.“

“It was me she swore oaths to, my children that grew inside her, my hand she holds. What do you want of her?”

“Soon she will swear the same oaths to me.” Aemond muses, “when I lie with her, it will be my seed that takes.“ He lifts a shoulder, “if you are kind to me, I may allow you to hold her hand as I do it.”

Part 2

[floatyflowers]

what kind of yandere would caesar augustus be? can you give highlights of his attitude, personality, and behaviour as a yandere to reader who has isekaied in his time as a roman emperor? thanks so much. Btw i enjoyed reading emperor geta and emperor caracella 💕💝

You kissed the picture of a statue of Augustus Caesar in history textbook before drawing hearts over the pictures in a playful manner.

Which led to you ending up in Ancient Rome, in Augustus Caesar's reign.

And because of your strange clothes and frightened attitude, you were dragged to the emperor, accused of being an intruder.

The emperor spoke to you in Latin while you only stared at him in fear and confusion.

From your expressions and reactions, Octavian realized that you are harmless.

He ordered to have your things taken away, and for you to be taken and clothed in Roman clothes, as he decided to have you under his care until he understands who exactly are you.

No one has sparked his curiosity like you.

In less than two months you were taught Latin.

But through those two months, you also managed to build many friendships.

Even with the young daughter of the emperor, Julia, the eight-years-old child adores you.

But now, you are forced to stand in front of Augustus and speak to him in the language you were taught.

"I'm not from here." you admit.

"I have noticed the first time from your improper clothing, I wish to know everything about you."

"Even if what I'm going to tell you is considered madness?"

With a nod from him, you begin telling him everything about yourself, and how you found yourself in this timeline.

This was a huge mistake on your part, as this made the Roman emperor obsessed with you and knowing about the future.

Everything you needed, was granted.

Octavian would spend long hours with you in his chambers, discussing many different matters.

You have so much knowledge, something he respects in a person.

When in reality, the knowledge you got is only from three sources, books, school, and YouTube.

However, sometimes he feels like you act like a child who needs to be corrected.

"Do you have a husband in your timeline?"

One day while having a walk in the gardens Augustus inquires about your marital situation.

"Yes." you lie, feeling uncomfortable under his sharp gaze.

You are not naive to the way he is interested to you and the hints he gives here and there.

But you would rather have boundaries.

"I suppose he must miss you dearly, he is unfortunate in many ways."

"Unfortunate, how so?" you ask, curiosity peeking.

"His wife is going to marry the emperor of Rome."

Your heart beats raises in fear, as you try to move away, but Caesar grabs your left wrist to stop you.

"I'm married, this would be considered infidelity." you say with a disgusted tone at how he still chooses to pursue you.

"In this timeline, you are not married as your husband does simply not exist yet."

[webslingingslasher]

peters nerdy side>>>> can we get more hot nerdy peter pretty pleaseeeee

nerdy peter makes me feral.

Peter Parker was finally rewarded for all the shit he deals with. 

A teen, who was a silent walker in school, but a near lethal hero at night, one that has to deal with more stress and traumas than any other kid at seventeen. Night after night, his spirit being broken down a little more each bad guy he’s put away. 

Queens see a hero that keeps the streets clean. 

Sometimes, all Peter could see was someone’s dad, or husband, or son he was putting away. 

All that bullshit he’s been dealt, the bullshit about power and responsibility, was washed away when he finally got something good, something he really thought he deserved. 

He got you, and that’s why he’ll stop at nothing to keep you. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

Was it dumb to listen to Flash of all people? Maybe. 

Does he know more about girls and has a better track record at keeping them? Yes. 

But of course, just like how you were the one to approach him, ask him out, kiss him first and ask for him to be your boyfriend, he should’ve trusted you. Could you really blame him though, not totally trusting he can have a purely good thing with no consequences? 

He couldn’t, that’s why it shocked him when you made it clear you only wanted him. 

You wanted Peter Parker, however he came. Science facts, nerdy hobbies, tirades and all. 

—---------------------

Have you ever built up an idea of who someone was in your head, and when you date the other shoe drops and they’re nothing like you thought? 

That was you with Peter Parker. 

He was adorably perfect, noticing him when sharing a history class. Peter sat three seats up from you on the left, perfect position for you to watch his habits. The shake in his leg, tapping pencils on his desk, blowing a breath every time someone answered incorrectly, sitting up and leaning over his desk when something catches his attention, chewing his bottom lip while going over notes, poking his tongue out when he takes a test. 

Peter Parker was the constant subject on your mind, starting in history and causing you to look for him in other classes, you only shared one more, typing class. He was three rows behind you, there wasn’t a good way to look at him, instead having to rely on his quiet murmurs when the teacher stands behind his computer. 

After two weeks of pining you couldn’t stand it, stomping over to his table at lunch you sit down right next to him. His friends paused at your sudden and aggressive entrance. 

“Hi. We haven’t really talked but we share typing and history. For two weeks straight I’ve been watching you and I can’t get you out of my head, and I would really, really like to go on a date with you.” 

You can see it on his face, how he goes from shock to excitement, then as he looks you over his face falls. He thinks you’re fucking with him, you don’t know how to make him believe it’s real. 

“Here,” you pull at your backpack and rip the front pocket open, you pull a sharpie out and with a slight tremble you grab his arm, pushing his sleeve up you uncap the marker with your teeth. Scribbling your number onto his skin, “think about it, let me know.” 

Before you lose your steam you scramble to stand and grab your bag, “okay, that’s all. Um,” you nod at his friends, silence deafening as everyone at the table takes in the scenario. “Thank you, and… enjoy lunch?” Cringing, you turn to leave, whispering an ‘oh my god,’ to yourself while pressing a hand to your cheek. 

Peter is sure in that moment you were a hundred percent serious and you just mortified yourself, spilling your guts and being met with nothing.

 Six steps away he calls out, “yes!” 

You pause, then turn, “what?” 

“Yes! I’ll go on a date with you.” 

Oh, that’s a new feeling. It felt like your heart had wings, your stomach felt like you were on a rollercoaster, flutters everywhere. You couldn’t even try to play it cool, the guy you’ve been crazy about just as interested and curious as you were. A toothy smile overtook your face, eyes lit up. 

Taking a few steps closer, you felt giddy. 

“Really? You will?” 

Peter’s smile matched yours, he laughed through his answer, he can’t believe you actually like him that much. “Yeah.” Biting your bottom lip you pull it together, “cool, text me and we’ll plan something?” 

“You got it.” 

Nodding you walk off, Peter’s riding on a high like never has. He’s never had such a pretty girl like you like him, want him, notice him. He felt like he’s been rewarded, that he does deserve a good thing. 

Flash scoffs when you sit back at your table, immediately talking and watching faces gasp and squeal. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

The last thing he wants to do, before he even gets you, is send you off. So, he listens and promises to be someone that should be with a girl like you, someone that isn’t really him. 

—---------------------

You figured it was first date nerves. 

That or just the fact you’ve never been alone with each other, especially under the guise of a date. It wasn’t like he was weird, but he was off. The person you watched in class was goofy, using his body to express himself, confident when speaking because he could back every word up. 

This Peter was quiet, guarded and almost… boring. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, he just had some jitters. Maybe if you kissed him it would settle him, you could prove that you liked him and he had nothing to be nervous about. Trying to look past his awkwardness you took the night as it was, wishing he was making you laugh like he had in class, or wishing he would ramble on in a story like you’ve watched him do with his friends at lunch or at his locker. 

It may have been different than you thought but he’d come around after a date or two surly, you’d kiss him and after another few dates he’ll open up and be his true self. It was hope, but you were riding on it. 

Peter ended the night by walking you home, conversation slowly dwindling as you approached closer, falling flat when you were  in front of the building. Waiting for a moment you looked at his mouth, he made no reaction, you hadn’t expected him to sweep you off your feet but to not offer anything made you feel unsure. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It was obvious from the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting anything in the slightest, but he licked his bottom lip and nodded softly, “yeah,” leaning in you wait for a moment, he makes no move, he has to be extremely nervous, no other option. You kissed him, you pressed into him and grabbed his face, his hands gently hovered and you pulled away. 

Maybe he just pitied you, just agreed because you put him on the spot. 

“Um, you know if you didn’t want-” 

“Can we do this again, please?” 

And just because he asked, and because it seemed like he realized he acted off and he wanted another chance, and because you really do believe in first date jitters, you say yes. 

—--------------

The first time you went over to his house his room was oddly clean, empty spaces on his bookshelf and shelves, almost like he’d put things away. Eyeing a bin by his closet you walked closer, “you collect comics?” Hoping you wouldn’t find, but still opening the top and starting to look through the ones on top. 

Peter took a deep breath, “as a kid, kinda stupid now, don’t you think?” 

You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, looking back down at the comic in your hand. You thought when you started dating he’d open up more, instead he got more closed off. 

Clearing your throat you place the comics back in, in the exact same order and putting the lid back on. “No, I don’t think they’re stupid. I was hoping you had some new ones I could catch up on, but if you think they’re stupid now I guess I’ll have to get ‘em myself.” 

If he had known you like comics he would’ve never said that. It’s his fault for leaving them out, he should’ve put them away like everything else that screamed ‘nerd alert’. 

“I didn’t mean they’re stupid, just you know… collecting them as an adult… is.. weird?” 

The lamest excuse you’ve ever heard, but you keep your patience. It hasn't even been two weeks, he’ll come around. You know it. 

—------

Surprising Peter with a hug he budged against your weight before supporting you, talking to a friend while he wrapped his arms around your back. Picking up on pieces of the conversation you nudge your head up, interested in his words. 

The Peter you like, the one that’s animated and rambling, moving his hands across your back as he talks. You place a kiss at the bottom of his neck, “whatcha talking about?”  It sounded like a new program that was going to change the future of computer engineering, when you questioned he blew you off. “Nothing important.” 

You had tried, you tried to be kind and patient and understanding but he just wasn’t who you wanted. You wanted that person, the person that’s excited about new technology and collected comic books. 

Peter closed off when you asked, guarded back up, you wished it could’ve been different. Maybe one day he’d open up more, you didn’t want anything but his true self. 

You gave it a month before you had to accept that Peter Parker wasn’t the person you thought he was, today, you had to accept that you were breaking up with Peter Parker. Pulling away you grab his arm, silently telling him to look at you. 

“Can I come over later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Wanna come with me after school?” 

“Sure,” you wondered if he could see through your smile. It doesn’t seem like it, he leans down and gives you a quick kiss, you pull away and back away through the halls. 

He has no idea what’s coming. 

—------------

Gently pushing Peter’s shoulders down to coax him into sitting on the edge of his bed, you grin politely when he follows instruction. Dragging his desk chair to sit in front of him you pause to think about what you were going to say, clearing your throat you begin. 

“So, I like you a lot, and I’ve enjoyed having you as my boyfriend for the past month-” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrow, he holds his hand up, “enjoyed? Are you breaking up with me?” 

You bite your lip and nod solemnly, “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

The silence is unsettling, you look away from him, his figures deflated and his mind races. 

“Why?” 

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out you shrug, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Peter. But, uh, you’re just… not what I thought you’d be like.” 

How could you not like him? He’s done everything right. He was the perfect suitor, he acted like the typical non nerd male. The kind of all american guy every girl wanted. 

“I don’t… what does that mean?” 

You laugh, “I have a type, and you’re not it. I like nerds, like, straight up goofy, funny guys that know something about everything and collect comic books and get excited at new, humanity altering technology. I thought you were that guy, but I guess not.” 

Oh my god. 

He’s fucked it all up, he was dumb enough to believe you wanted something else. 

He can show you he’s a nerd, he’s been one his entire goddamn life, he’s about to nerd olympics the hell out of you. 

Peter jumps from his seat so quickly it startles you, his hands come down on the armrests of your chair, the seat tilting backwards as he pushes his weight towards you. 

“I’m the biggest nerd you’ll ever meet.” 

Your seat jostles when he lets go and opens his closet, pulling out a box he sets it on his bed. 

“This is everything I put away when we started dating,” he turns with three rubik’s cubes, each one in various sizes. “,these are my rubik’s cubes, I can finish the standard in forty three seconds, the six by six took me about thirty minutes and this baby?” he bounced the biggest one in his hold, “, this is a twenty one by twenty one, it took me about three hours.” 

Peter dropped them to the bed and continued, “and this is my national championship trophy for chess club,” he shoves it in your face before he keeps digging, a small picture frames come next, “this is when I won the states most innovative science fair project,” frantic digging, “, this is a figurine of my favorite video game,” two large disc sets next, “lord of the rings and star wars,” 

He spins around, flying past your body where he picks up his comic book container, “remember when I was late to our date last week? I was getting these,” three new additions of an old comic you had just started to pick up, “, and currently?” Peter moved to his desk, tapping on his keyboard until his screen woke up, code covered the screen, he pointed between the monitor and a notebook, “I’m learning to read binary code.” 

You felt like the grinch because your heart grew the times the size, adoration blossomed, you could feel your chest crack and glow. The Peter you wanted, the person you thought he was from the start, was real and in front of you. 

This was who he was, so why was he hiding it? 

“Why did you hide that from me? Peter, that’s like, the entire reason I wanted to date you. I liked who you were, then you turned into someone else.” 

Peter rested against his desk and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I figured a pretty girl like you wouldn’t want some nerdy guy, it might be cute at first but when I’m stoked about something I read on wikipedia and make it my thing for a day and talk your ear off about it, you’re gonna wish you had a boyfriend that just watches sport clips for fun.”

That’s the point you were trying to make, “that’s what I want! I was literally dumping you because you weren’t that.” 

“Well, I am that. So there’s no point in breaking up, right?” 

You hum and spin in his chair, “I dunno… you dragged me along for a month, hiding yourself from me, making me question everything. I mean, you have a lot to make up for, parker.” 

“C’mere,” you’re not given an option, he reaches forward and pulls the chair towards him and pulls you from the seat, flopping himself down and tugging you into his lap. Your stomach clenches, this was the confident Peter you wanted, it was confidence in himself. 

His pointer finger taps on the monitor, “you read binary from right to left, and you separate them into groups of eight. Now the key is knowing that each one and zero mean-” 

Your mouth on his, cutting his words off with a kiss, you held his face tightly, never wanting him to separate from you. Caught off guard he froze for a moment, then wrapped his hands around your middle. Pressing into him, separating for air but giving small pecks. 

“Baby,” kiss, “, I’m sorry,” kiss, “, I shut,” kiss, “, you out,” kiss, “I didn’t,” kiss, “, know it meant,” kiss, “, so much,” kiss, “, to you,” kiss. 

“You’re so much smarter than me,” a chaste kiss, “it’s so hot,” you look into his eyes, he’s flushed out and breathing harshly. “You’re so hot,” another kiss, Peter feels like the room is spinning, he’s never felt so wanted, so needed, the way you can’t stop kissing him, how tight you’re holding him to you, how blown your pupils are, the way you’re gulping him like water. 

“I mean if you,” he grunts when you kiss down his neck, biting into his collarbone. “, if you want, I could show you how quick I can solve my rubik’s cube.” Your hands drag up his hair, gripping and tilting his head away, better access to nibble and lick the skin. “Or, recite the first seventy nine numbers of pi.” 

Attention caught, “you know the first seventy nine numbers of pi?” 

“Mm hmm, I could also tell you” a whimper,  “, all the elements. Want me to start rattling them off?” 

Kissing the middle of his throat you hum, “I’d rather you take your pants off.” 

For the first time in Peter Parker’s life, memorizing the periodic table got him laid. 

[luveline]

pleaseee anything angsty with bombshell!reader and spencer!! love you

love you!

When Jason Gideon dies, it’s alone with his murderer. Isolated from friends and family, years after you last heard from him. Spencer hasn’t spoken to him since he left, and yet the ruin on his face when it’s confirmed to be Gideon churns your stomach. 

He rushes out of the room. 

You look at Gideon, dead, and regret that you never got along. You barely knew him. So when Derek leaves to follow Spencer out, you don’t go with them, thinking Derek has better common ground. 

“You okay?” you ask Hotch quietly. 

He nods, solemn. “Do you want to go check on Reid?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“I think Morgan has it for now.” You turn away from Gideon. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s too scary when it’s someone you know. It reminds you that it could’ve been you, or Spencer. 

You don’t find time to speak to your poor bookworm until later that night when you’ve been forced to retire in dinky motel rooms. You and Spencer used to share because you were the only person normal enough not to complain when he infodumps, and because you were fond of him. Then because you were best friends, and now because you’re in love. How lucky you’ve been. 

He’s always had it rough, though. 

You’d asked him multiple times throughout the day if he was okay, and every now and then he’d nodded or sniffled, but now he’s alone with you his facade fades completely, and you want to have a real talk. 

His shoulders rock. You reach out for him. He breaks for the bathroom. 

“Spencer?” you ask, startled. 

The door shuts hard between you, frame shaking.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

You cross the brown carpeting to grab the handle. You pause there, heart dropping as the weak sound of muffled sobbing reaches your ears. “Spencer,” you say, soft, and without any teasing. You’re capable of seriousness sometimes. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“Can I be alone?” he asks.

He sounds strained. 

“I’d rather you weren’t. I don’t know what you’ll do.” 

“What?” he asks. 

“People do strange things when they’re upset. I just want to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” he says shortly. 

You’d be offended, but like you said. People do strange things when they’re upset, and this is worse than just being upset. This is grief. Intangible, cruel. Spencer has a history of doing things that aren’t good for him when he’s hurting. You’ve no interest in leaving him alone. 

“Spencer… I love you. I want to be near you.”

Your straight-forwardness pays off. 

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not locked.” 

That’s reassuring. You open the door, find him standing at the sink with his cheeks wet with thick tears. He crumples when he sees you, hiding his face in his hands. 

You’re not sure what to do. Loving someone, you tend to love all of them, and you’ve yet to find parts of Spencer you couldn’t adore, but he just lost somebody important to him and you have no idea how to handle it. You decide to try, whether jumping into it will do any good or not. You walk right into his chest and hug him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He takes a shaky, odd breath, like he might laugh. He tries to as he holds your shoulders. “God, it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” 

“I am. It’s not fair. I never want you to lose anyone.” 

He presses his lips into a hard line and nods, prompting tears down his cheeks one after the other. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. Spencer cries and you watch him, his hands weak on your shoulders. His hair is greasy at the roots from all the heat of being upset, his face pink, his eyes swollen and sore. His lashes are sticking together in dark triangles, while his sclera turns bloodshot. It’s clear that today has been extremely hard on him, and you should’ve done more. “I should’ve come after you, I’m sorry. I thought Morgan would have a better chance at making you feel better.” You wipe his cheeks, and tuck lank hair behind his ears. “I need you to know I’m here for you.” 

He’s putting on a brave face, slowly but surely. “I know that.” 

“Listen, do you want to shower?” you ask. 

“I want to sit down forever.” 

“We’ll shower first. I’ll come in with you, alright? We can wash your hair, the warm water will be good for your eyes.” You frown sympathetically. “You’ve cried all day.” 

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I wish I’d tried harder to see him. To talk to him again.” 

“You can… I know it’s not the same, but you can tell me. Anything you wanted to say to him, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything.” 

He nods again. More brave face, more unnerving, fake smile. 

You run your hands down his hair, and use your hands to tilt his head forward gently. “You can be alone if you really want to, but I just can’t have that closed door. You understand?” 

“No, I want to shower with you.” He sniffs. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s not scary.” You curl your arm behind his neck to pull him in for a careful hug. You hold him without moving, relieved when he holds you back, though his hands are limp where they’d usually be rubbing at your shoulders. “It wasn’t scary, I mean. I didn’t mean to suggest you’d do something, but I think the last thing you should be right now is alone. Thanks for letting me stay.” 

He breathes in your neck. “This is nice.” 

You bend back to encourage him further into your arms. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, rubbing his back in a slow stroke, “you can get through this. We’ll do right by him, I promise. You’re not alone.” 

“I used to feel it. He was the first person who… really looked out for me, before he left.” Spencer sniffles, glassy eyes softening where he looks down at you. “Nobody’s ever stayed with me. No one.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He sniffles again. “I know… Will you still shower with me?” 

“Mm-hm. Wash your hair for you, if you want me to.” 

“Please.” 

“Costs a kiss,” you say softly. 

“You want one from me right now?” he asks. He’s joking, because he knows you always want one. 

Your spirits finally begin to recuperate. “Plant one on me, handsome… only if you want to.” 

He turns away from you to wipe his face, both of you laughing, him wetly, you in relief. Both with a little bit of guilt. Maybe because life goes on without the people who pass, and that will always feel wrong. 

He turns back to you. Sadness darkens his eyes, but he closes them and leans down tentatively to kiss you. 

You take his soft one, borrow a firmer one, and wrap him up in another hug. Love you, love you, love you, you think. You’re going to make sure that he’s okay. 

[rottiens]

are we havin' fun yet?┊ s. getō ft. s. gōjō

✫ word count. 5.1k

✫ summary. you get caught up in the unresolved argument and tension from years ago between two old best friends.

✫ tags. (18+) — explicit content. no curses au, bisexual panic and denial, female reader + afab (the reader wears painted nails and has somewhat long hair), mostly geto-centric narrative, objectification, praising, cucking.

✫ notes. ok this is born thanks to the idea of this ask, a drabble that i lost control of heh. there are many things i love about this piece and i hope you enjoy it kiss kiss. divider creds: cafekitsune.

From food and video games to shirts and colognes, Suguru and Satoru have always shared everything. It's adorable, to a certain extent, how close the two of them are and how others perceive them as brothers from the outside. It's an unbreakable friendship that was born spontaneously when they were both little. They met in elementary school, when Satoru decided to share his crayons so Suguru could color the house he had drawn, and since then, the affection that began then has only grown along with them.

The only time the two were apart was during their time at university where Satoru was inclined to study history while Suguru, with his tendencies towards human relations and his great empathy, decided to study social psychology. However, after graduating and starting work not far from the city center, they both decided it was time to live together again, at least for a while, with the intention of saving expenses.

Suguru has never minded sharing. His shampoo, his food, his bath gel. So it was only natural to expect his friend to do the same for him, to share everything, right? Just like back then.

That afternoon, Satoru was returning to the apartment after a long day at work. The backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder as his footsteps echoed in the hallway. He unlocked the door with his key, which turned with a familiar, comforting sound. Upon entering, he was greeted by the scent of the incense Suguru always lit to keep the atmosphere calm and cozy.

Suguru was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with precision and care. Hearing the door, he looked up to greet and greet him, as usual, only the greeting died on the tip of his tongue, turning into a long sigh.

“Oh.” Disappointment disguised in a subdued tone, so Suguru decides to add. “You bring company.”

Again. He wants to say, but he bites his tongue and harshly splits the onion in two. You're here. Again. The friend Satoru has been bringing home every weekend for a month now. Suguru thought it was going to be casual, like all the times before, something that would last a week or two at most, because Satoru isn't the type to have long-term relationships. But seeing you here after a full month surprises him, no, it bothers him, and he can't explain why.

Satoru smiles, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“'Hi, Suguru,” you greet him, accompanying your words with a nervous twitch that leads you to squeeze Satoru's intertwined fingers. You look adorable, and he avoids rolling his eyes. You're wearing a tight-fitting black knit-and-button blouse that highlights your figure, and a short black skirt that exposes your legs that he can't help but admire before focusing on his friend.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Suguru asks out of politeness and breaks eye contact with you to look at Satoru, who struggles to hold back a smile.

His fingers tighten around the knife just as a muscle in his jaw does.

“Later. We'll be in my room.”

Unable to add anything else, Satoru tugs your hand towards the hallway along with a slight nod that has you following him like a lost puppy. A few seconds later, the slam of the door rattles the walls and minutes later a pop song reaches the kitchen. It's the voice of a familiar artist, high and raspy, and Suguru wants to rip out his eardrums.

He plunges the knife down on the onion hard, hitting the board with a dull thud that gets louder and louder. Even over the noise of the knife, his thoughts, and the woman now singing another song from the same album, Suguru can hear it: those sounds Satoru tries to muffle with his hand, the breaths, the moans.

The hot oil bubbles in the pan rising with the anger cooking in the top of his stomach, the olive oil toasting the onions and garlic, while Suguru pretends he doesn't know what's going on a few feet away from him. He doesn't hate you, not really. You're sweet, you're kind, and he thinks that makes it worse. What really runs across his skin from the inside, like fingernails scratching a chalkboard, is the fact that Satoru doesn't talk about you. Of what he does, what he doesn't do, that he doesn't offer you as an offering from which he can take. Like one of his toys, like his shirts, like the other partners he's had before you.

It is the exclusivity with you that irritates him to such an extent that his thoughts corrupt him and make him completely forget about the garlic that is now dark and smells burnt.

“Fuck this,” he growls to himself, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the plume of smoke rising to the ceiling. Suguru scoops up the burnt ingredients with the spatula and pushes them into the trash can. He puts the pan back on the fire and grabs a new onion to chop. As he cuts, he hears your laughter, that bubbly, mischievous, genuine laughter that comes out of your belly and echoes throughout the apartment, as if Satoru is making you cry from the tickling. Suguru peels and chops the onion harder, throwing it into the pan once more, his eyes red and watery, his nose full of the peculiar stench of onion.

Satoru laughs, says something (perhaps in your ear, even against your thigh) that Suguru can't decipher. A door opens and closes. Then he hears the shower water, and the words of the song come through more clearly thanks to Satoru leaving the door open, as he always does. Suguru adds the ginger and concentrates on the curry, and on nothing else but cooking, showering and getting out of there. And that's what he does.

He waits for you to finish playing newlywed couple in the shower, takes off his clothes, ignores his erection and steps into the shower that still smells of you. To the shampoo you both share, to your perfume, to the minty toothpaste and- it's the first time it happens, as an irony of fate, as if life is mocking him, suguru finds your panties lying on the side of the shower, he is stepping on them and looking at them as if he has discovered something horrifying, they are soft, white and lacy around the edge and have a sticky, almost white he might say, fluid on them.

Suguru picks them up. He watches them a few feet away, he knows he shouldn't do it, he would never take anything his friend doesn't offer him first and he doesn't because his pride is stronger.

He throws them on the floor a little further away from where he picked them up, steps into the shower and cums silently in his clenched fist as he drowns in the smell of you.

Suguru wraps the towel around his waist when he's done, lets his hair cascade loose dripping droplets down his back and looks in the mirror to see his cheeks stained red and finally exits the bathroom.

You are with Satoru in the living room, apparently arguing about something, you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye entering the room and closing the door.

Suguru takes off his towel and looks at his hand. Okay, he did it. He tries to justify himself but there's no reason other than, he thinks he has the right to taste you, to smell you, to know what has satoru coming back to you, so he brings the used panties to his nose shyly at first, full of embarrassment, but when he spits on his hand and starts fucking his cock harder he realizes as he sniffs you like he's a stalker pervert, he notices there are no inhibitions now, it's just you, your panties, his hard cock and his imagination telling him the different poses he could take you in if satoru would let him.

He cums silently as he hears the front door close and the shame returns to him as if it has always belonged to him. Suguru hurries to clean up his mess with napkins he keeps hidden in the room and moves to stow your panties in one of the drawers where he keeps his underwear, way down low.

Suguru's face is hot and his chest tight. His naked body as an accusation reminds him of the crime he just committed, so he moves to pick up some shorts and slides them up his muscular legs until the heat in his chest is descending.

He lies down for a moment on the mattress that makes no noise when he moves and stares at the ceiling until his vision blurs and he stops thinking and, then, remembers the curry.

——

The second time it happens it's not even his fault.

This seemed like a joke of fate or some divine plan to punish him for being thirsty for water he can't drink.

You are sitting in front of him, on the floor, legs slightly spread while wearing a satoru t-shirt too big for you which helps him discover that you have nothing on underneath except for black panties. Suguru can see for a moment how your pussy lips swallow some of the material and thinks of the excuses he can come up with to justify if asked about the blush or the amount of sweat pearling his temples.

“ UNO!” Shouts satoru victoriously placing the last card in the center of the floor and you feign indignation as you tap him on the shoulder, moving into your space, and flashing him again your panties. “Are you okay, man?” asks Satoru still laughing, he has your wrists clutched against his chest to keep you from hitting him again as you accuse him of cheating.

He was. But Suguru didn't care to discuss that now.

“Suguru, say something to him!” You chuckle slowly as you do when he sucks too hard on your clit and he leaves you breathless. He knows because he saw you, a couple of weeks ago when satoru was eating your pussy on top of the counter when he thought suguru was asleep, you were right where he was preparing the curry just a couple of nights ago.

Suguru closes his eyes for a second erasing that mental image and gets up, before anyone notices what's going on and is grateful for the baggy t shirt he's wearing that hides his semi erection.

“Yeah; it's the curry… I think, I'll be back,” he excuses himself.

The third time it happens Suguru looks around the room for cameras. This had to be a joke.

A pair of black panties were attacked at the bottom of the washing machine, mixed in with his clothes, kept there since the last day you visited them. Suguru knows he must return them and he will…. soon.

He slips them into the back pocket and finishes placing the clothes he will wash that day inside the washing machine. Then he closes it harder than he should.

——

It's incredibly hot, so he's not wearing a shirt. You're close to Satoru, as usual, huddled a few feet away from Suguru as you watch the soccer game. The fan is barely enough for the three of you, but Suguru prefers to stay away from you for his own good.

The game's narrator announces halftime and Suguru takes the opportunity to blink and stretch his legs. He raises his arms above his head with a groan, and his shorts are pulled down a little, revealing the beginnings of the short hairs on his abdomen.

“Man, this is getting boring,” Satoru grunts with a yawn. You two look at him.

“What do you mean? The match is 2-4 right now…”

“You've really given up already?” Suguru frowns, looking at the back of your head but unable to see the expression with which you watch your boyfriend… or whatever you two are now.

“Huh?” he replies in confusion.

“I thought you wanted to fuck my girlfriend,” blurts out satoru, as casually as if he's talking about the weather, his eyes now on the commercials playing on TV.

Suguru thinks that if he were still drinking from the water bottle he'd be coughing right now. Instead, his eyes widen to such an extent that they could pop out of their sockets and roll on the floor, his throat goes dry, his heart leaks out of his chest and a whiplash hits his cock. Satoru laughs noting the expression he finds comical. “Funny you act so surprised when you've always been so easy to read,” he says.

“Babe, come on,” you murmur as you stroke Satoru's chest in circles, your short red nails contrasting with the Red Hot Chili Peppers tank top he's wearing.

Suguru turns on the couch to get a better look at you, his blue eyes locked on yours intimidating. They always have. However, with a deep breath you steel yourself not to break eye contact.

“Why didn't you say anything before?”

Satoru smiles sideways. Hearing him say this last, you turn to position yourself perfectly in the middle of the two of you, avoiding the gaze of either of them, and fixating on the commercial about the energy drink they're promoting now.

“I thought you were going to ask, as usual,” he says with a shrug, still talking as if you weren't present.

“I thought it was different now.”

“Well, are you going to ask?”

Suguru pushes his cheek with his tongue and his fingers gently grip the couch.

“Satoru…” you warn, averting your gaze to the floor. Suguru notices how fast your breathing has become, his friend's long fingers playing with the edge of your denim shorts, sometimes hiding under the fabric as they scratch the fat of your thigh from time to time.

“Say it,” Satoru encourages him gently, looking up at you through his eyelashes and with determined eyes that mimic those of an eagle.

Suguru bites his cheek gently, perhaps to make sure he's not dreaming. He has a slight feeling that this is a trap, that Satoru is leading him to a place he won't be able to get out of, and yet he decides to sink his feet into what is probably quicksand.

He's always wanted this, clearly, and to have it in front of him, being offered on a platter for him to take and satiate his hunger- there's very little a hungry man can take.

“I want to fuck her,” Suguru spits and his voice doesn't tremble. There's a slight frown on his forehead and the summer heat prevents him from breathing normally.

You bite your lip as you watch Suguru, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as Satoru continues to tease you underneath the material of the shorts. Your eyes widen slightly and your cheeks heat up, anticipation and nervousness mingling in your expression.

“How badly you want it?” asks Satoru, his voice barely a whisper.

Suguru closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw tensing. “I'm dizzy just thinking about it,” he replies, opening his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed and determined on him. He hasn't even dared to look at you. “I want to fuck her so hard and deep, you have no idea.”

“Fuck,” Satoru's fangs are visible for just a second, a wolfish grin warning danger. “Atta boy…” he purrs, sliding his fingers over your jawline to force you to look at him. There's something about Satoru that has always made you feel intimidated. His blue eyes, as deep as the sea, and his cotton-white hair give him such a peculiar appearance, he almost looks like the divine character from some book you must adore. His touch is firm, but not aggressive, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you breathless, as if you're under a spell you can't break. “You still want to fuck my best friend?”

“Satoru…” you beg in a trembling voice.

“Don't be shy, angel. If you can ask for it, it's yours,” he replies with an indulgent smile.

You had discussed this before, once… well, maybe it was twice. You remember it clearly because it's impossible to forget how the idea made you feel. The first time, you were drunk and thought it was all a joke; but when Satoru brought it up again, whispering it close to your ear while you were both sober and cuddled in the dark your room, you thought it was just a fantasy that would fade away and stay just that.

“You know… we used to share everything,” he told you.

The idea of being shared between the two of them is… overwhelming, to say the least. Just thinking about it takes your breath away; both men are huge, tall and muscular, not to mention how handsome they are.

“You know I do. We've talked about it,” you confess in a low voice.

Suguru barely manages to hear you over the hiss of a whistle on the TV, but what he does manage to catch makes his heart beat wildly and his thighs tense.

Satoru examines you up and down, perhaps looking for some trace of doubt about what is about to happen. Finding no sign of uncertainty, his eyes fall on Suguru and, with a wave of his hand, he beckons him closer.

“C'mere, Suguru. Don't be shy.”

Suguru moves like a magnet towards you, shuffling his legs over the couch until his warmth envelops you. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the heat that has built up in the room, of the sweat on your back and the sticky feeling on your skin. The atmosphere becomes dense and suffocating, each breath feels heavier, Suguru's bare knee touches yours and the friction of your bodies makes your skin burn, intensifying the crushing sensation that overcomes you.

Expectantly, you both look at Satoru as if waiting for the next command anxiously, like animals about to be tamed.

Satoru makes an effort to pretend that he does not enjoy the situation, that the idea of devouring you both in one go does not excite him. However, he takes the first step and reaches for you with his hand, placing it on your cheek to force you to look at him. Lips half-open and eyelashes messy, you feel his lips pull you close and kiss you, filling you with a palpable intensity. Suguru beside you gasps.

Your boyfriend's fingers push at the thick denim fabric of your shorts and your needy core reaches for his open palm, swaying your hips in need of more.

Suguru doesn't know what to do; he seeks Satoru's permission, unsure if it's okay to kiss you, if he can touch you. Fists clenched in his tight shorts, he pauses to watch as Satoru's tongue hungrily thrusts into your mouth, creating a mess of saliva and moans. The intensity of the moment draws you into a new kiss, as his mouth fills with water, caught up in the maelstrom of desire that is unleashed.

In the midst of a new kiss that ends with Satoru gently biting your lower lip, he reaches out to grab his friend's jaw, delicately inviting him towards you. Leaving your mouth inches from his and with your eyes still closed, you barely make out the change in mouths, except for the difference in the way they devour you.

Suguru feels very different; his lips are harder and thicker than your boyfriend's, and his skin, rougher from the recent shave. Unlike Satoru, he sucks your tongue with precision. Each movement, though laden with desire, feels carefully planned, not so messy and the sensation of his mouth molding yours has your pussy soaking wet from satoru's long fingers now playing with your drooling pussy directly.

“You're this wet? Just from kissing him?” Satoru bites your neck and you release suguru's mouth to moan and expose your throat even more. “Such a naughty girl.”

Suguru's kisses mark the other side of your throat making you clench around the pair of digits with which satoru explores your insides, a couple of jerks of his fingers inside you has your back hunched for both of them and just as you begin to ride the wave of your orgasm, so close, the fingers are hastily withdrawn from you to show them to the room as proof of how wet you are. A long transparent string ties his fingers together.

“Look what you did to her, suguru.” Satoru brings the fingers to his friend's mouth who after hesitation circles them with his tongue with his eyes closed and face burning.

The heat is as unbearable as the erection in his shorts and suguru is grateful to feel some pressure on the throbbing bulge while still sucking on his fingers. You spit on your hand and cover his cock in saliva jerking it up and down, satoru drags his fingers out of his friend and sees the desire in his cinnamon eyes, lust overpowering shame.

Satoru spits into his own hand and curls it around suguru's throbbing cock, you masturbate his base, he swirls the sensitive tip, your left hand massaging his balls and the whole haze of new thrills and sensations whip him, and make him dizzy.

“Fuck you,” Suguru gasps with his eyebrows drawn together and mouth a distorted circle looking at his friend.

“Don't you want to cum?” you ask, innocent at the dueling gazes battling in front of you.

“Agh, fuck. No, not yet…” selfishness wanted him to continue, not so soon, he couldn't finish now.

“Oh no?” Satoru presses harder, stroking his slit with his thumb. ”Because you want to cum in her tight pussy, don't you? Fuck man, you don't know how hard she squeezes when she's about to cum, it feels like she wants to keep you there and have you fill her over and over again with your fucking cum.”

“Satoru shut the fuck up!” he yells through his teeth.

“Or do you want to cum in me?” as they both look at each other, his balls twitching, no words to respond other than pent up emotions from years ago.

“Please…” is all he can say, unsure of exactly what he's pleading for.

The waves of pleasure that Satoru's fingers give him descend, allowing the pressure in his lower stomach to cease, and he can breathe normally again.

“Stop,” Satoru says, kissing your temple. You obey instantly, getting Suguru to groan with painful longing, cock twitching visibly a mess of his saliva and precum. “Do you want to ride him?” he asks you directly, catching your gaze as he grabs the back of your neck firmly to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I do,” you reply, slightly light-headed from the kiss, the physical contact and the heat. Your breath brushes against his mouth and Satoru looks at you proudly, or so you think; you fail to decipher what's really in those eyes, though many times you can't.

Suguru lies down on the couch just as Satoru orders him to. He finishes removing his shorts awkwardly and hurriedly, becoming completely naked. It's not the first time Satoru has seen him without clothes, but it's the first time he's contemplated him in this way, almost like you are.

Suguru is handsome, that's a fact you can freely acknowledge. Seeing him like this, fully exposed, a sense of awe comes over you. His body is toned, with muscles worked by hours in the gym. His legs are covered with short hair that is growing, and a line of hair descends from his navel to his pelvis, where you find a tangle of short, curly hairs. The sight of his naked body is breathtaking, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that takes your breath away.

A few feet away, satoru jerks his cock with his own hand, long rather than thick, pale pink at the tip with a drop of pre cum in the slit and suguru, head cocked to the side and leaning back on the couch licks his lips in his direction watching him satisfy himself.

You grab his cock with one hand and then, the realization has your body tingling the moment you brush the tip at your needy entrance. All three of you moan in unison, connected together by the same thought and it is lewd, it embarrasses you but at the same time excites you to have the attention of both men pouring into you alone, suguru thrusts his hips upward in search of some kind of release and satoru takes a few short steps forward to admire the scene more closely, then sitting down on the ground a few feet away from you to better admire the scene he has set up for himself.

His cock plunges into you, thrusts and expands your pussy, spills your arousal around the thickness. Suguru is much thicker so you feel so full the moment you're sitting on him completely, his warm hands on your thighs massaging you up and down bringing comfort as he thrusts his hips to grind against your clit.

You hold onto his stomach like an anchor, feeling the sweat make your hair stick to your forehead and tangle around your face. Your hips move harder, riding him with increasing intensity, selfishly seeking climax. suguru finds your clit with the hard pad of his thumb and rubs it back and forth as you do all the work. For a long minute it's just the two of you staring into each other's eyes, the open-mouthed panting chanting turns to grunts and moans that gets lost in the noise of the forgotten match in the background; suguru struggles to concentrate on you, watches your lip being punished by your teeth, your tits covered by the thin fabric of the summer tank top and on the way his finger fiddles your nub of nerves lazily.

You lose yourself in him, in the rhythm at which his hips join yours; you feel his desperation, his hunger. Suguru grunts and carelessly grabs your hips to turn you around and place you now on your back on the couch, your thighs spread wide by his wide hips and his hands make prisoners of your wrists above your head.

You moan, with his forehead against yours and his body bending yours in half you feel like you might break beneath him, he notices, feels you tighten which makes him grin devilishly.

“Too deep?” He asks, as if he doesn't know the answer, pounding you harder and more precisely. “I like it like this, perfect for breeding you…. I like how tight you get.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply biting your lip, sharing the sweat from his frown.

“Tell him,” he orders you without looking at satoru, sharing a secret between your open mouth that can't be heard by your boyfriend.

You had almost forgotten him for a moment, too wrapped up in the fantasy. Turning your attention to satoru you realize that he fucks his cock to the rhythm in which suguru thrusts into you, he licks his lips as he watches you come back to him, to the giddy and disoriented and a smile curving the corners of his mouth appears on his face.

“Hi, angel.” Satoru gasps, “Do you have something to tell me?”

“He's so deep,” you gasp, suguru becoming more beast than human with every second you let him take you, caught up in the idea of fucking his friend's girlfriend, now you were no longer his property, you were his; his for that moment. He pushes back to get a better look at you from another angle and pulls up your tank top and exposes your tits, pinching your nipples without remorse.

“Yeah? And you like it?” you look back at suguru, the bun tying his hair back is starting to unravel, black strands falling down his back and you're not sure which one you want to look at first. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes…”

“I can tell… I love that face you're making, you're going to cum soon….. How about you Suguru, tell me how you feel?”

His eyes wander to your crotch, to your panties pulled aside so he can slip inside you, and he loses his rhythm for a moment as he watches his cock thrust in and out of you. He spits right on your clit for extra lubrication and takes his thumb to start massaging you, squeezing even tighter the tension binding your guts.

“She's so beautiful, and this fucking pussy, god…” his back arches and he rolls his eyes, feeling his own orgasm come hard. “She's squeezing me so hard.”

“Don't cum in her,” satoru warns.

Suguru bites his lip coming back to the present, the violent sound of wet skins meeting and the invisible steam of heat overwhelming him and urging him to take his own orgasm soon.

“Suguru…”

Another warning.

Satoru's voice sounds so sweet yet so commanding that it's almost annoying. It's just like before, when he ordered him things like he was his puppet and he was always so grateful to obey him, just to remain his friend. But you feel so good now, so tight, so wet, he doesn't remember the last time he fucked someone raw that nothing feels more like it now than filling your pussy with his load however, he forces himself to pull his cock inside you and fuck his cock on top of your stomach while you watch him with eyes full of adoration, he lets his cum run on your stomach making puddles on your belly button while someone behind him shouts “goaaaaaal”.

Then Suguru leans over, his fingers tangling in the mess that is your hair as his hair trails down his sweaty back, this with the intention of kissing you but he feels a brute hand on his shoulder pulling him away from victory, meeting that warm bluish gaze that reminds him of nostalgia.

“No kisses… those are another thing you'll have to ask for like a good boy.”

[chrissv4mp]

౨ৎ YOU DON'T REMEMBER CALLING OUT FOR ME?

★ sum: after a bad breakup with matt, you storm out of his party and get in the car. matt follows after you, and he regrets everything he said when he sees it happen.

☆ pair: matt sturniolo × fem!reader

★ tws: cursing, arguments, crying, driving under the influence kinda, car crashes, slight blood, mentions of amnesia (the loss of memories, facts, information, and experiences.)

☆ a/n: don't check my airbuds history.....

★ a/n 2: also really hoping to make a part 2 for this, but i need a few opinions

★ wc: 3.3k

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"don't be so fucking sensitive, y/n! i was just messing around. you're getting all riled up over nothin', kid." matt groans, leaning back and supporting himself with his hands on the mattress underneath him.

a scoff falls from your lips as you cross your arms, watching him from the open door of his bedroom, "don't call me 'kid', i'm not a fuckin' kid, matthew. and you could've died from the height of your apartment! you're still drunk." you catch sight of his blown pupils even from across the room, worry and anger clear on your face.

matt just rolls his eyes, gripping the sheets in his hands as he sighs, "well, i can hear what you're saying perfectly, thank you. and, plus, i wasn't gonna lose 50 fucking dollars, y/n."

"you didn't have to give it to the guy, matt. you're just so reckless, it's like you're trying to kill yourself 24/7! what is your problem?" your breathing is heavy now, the heat of the argument never dying down as you continue to voice your complaints about his recklessness. tears threaten to fall down your cheeks as he just mutters inaudible words.

"what problem? there's not a problem, you're the one making it a problem, y/n. it's not my fault you're such a boring fucking person. god, i can't even comprehend why i wanted to date you!" he growls, his voice never shaking as he stares you straight in the eyes. he seems serious, but you knew that he always said things he never meant while under the influence.

it feels like your whole world just fell apart, though. your chest feels tighter and it's almost like you can barely breathe, gripping the doorframe tightly as you watch matt fiddle with the edge of his pillowcase. he really doesn't care, his eyes not showcasing any emotion other than hatred. or, that's what it seems. you want the tears to fall, but they don't. you want to leave, but you can't. you want matt to say something, maybe even take it back, but he doesn't.

you want to— "then why haven't you broken up with me?" stupid. the realization that you just spoke up hits you only when matt stands up from his bed, inching closer toward your small figure as he gets tilts his head to get a better look at you, "tell me, matt." again? just shut up!

"you're right, i really wonder why i didn't do this sooner." your eyes widen in the slightest, your heart dropping to your stomach as you stare up into his cold, blue eyes that once looked at you in adoration. the spark that was once there is gone now as he looks at you, squinting his eyes as he speaks, "we're over. get the fuck out of my room, y/n."

your lips part in a silent gasp, eyes searching his for any signs of hesitation or regret or something. nothing, once again. he scoffs when he takes a step back, crossing his arms in a mimicking manner as he nods his head toward the hallway behind you, "actually, get the fuck out of my house."

the sick feeling in your stomach never leaves even as you turn away from your boyf—ex, and walk through the hallway. you make your way down the stairs, not even stopping to say bye to nick or chris as you pass by them in the living room. all you do is keep your head down and drag your feet, grabbing your jacket off the rack before leaving through the front door. it slams behind you, but you don't care anymore. your whole world just fell apart right in the hands of the person who you loved most. in the hands of the person who you thought loved you the most.

matt didn't care, though. well, not until he replayed the earlier events in his head over and over again after he saw you leave down the stairs. the impact of his words didn't hit himself until you were finally gone and he was sitting in his room alone, surrounded by millions of memories of you and him. your clothes were still here, the things you bought for him, they were painful reminders of the words that he just spoke to you. he didn't even think about it when he said them, he was just spitting out anything that came to mind. he wasn't thinking of the consequences.

maybe he should run after you or maybe he should just sit here and drown in his sorrow and despair, that was the more reasonable option. for him at least. his mind is so loud right now, he doesn't even know what to think anymore. his body moves by itself, jolting forward as his feet take him running down the stairs. he skips steps, almost tripping over his untied shoelaces and stumbling down the last few. he takes a quick glance at the living room and kitchen, but you're not there.

party guests call matts name, but he's not listening. he's not interested in whatever bullshit they have to say right now because his mind is shouting at him to find you, to make things right and show you that he never meant it. he doesn't even notice that he's shoving party goers out of the way until someone pushes him back, resulting in the brunette getting splashed with some red beverage. his heart beats fast and hard, the sound loud and drowning out any other thing around him. we'll, besides the overwhelming thoughts of you.

he slips on one of chris's jackets, darting out the door and slamming it shut behind him. he doesn't see you in the driveway, no sight of your car down the street or on the side of the apartment. his ears pick up on the sound of a car beeping, and his head whips around to find a bike propped up against the garage door. it all happens so fast, he can't even remember when he started pedaling down the street and catching sight of your h/c hair through your car window. he waves, but you don't give him anything back.

it feels like he's invisible, and now he knows what you felt like tonight in that apartment, alone and unseen. unheard by any and everyone around you, including the love of your life. matt watches as you speed up, ready to round the corner deeper into the neighborhood. you really don't know where you're going, though. all you want right now is to just get away from the house and never come back, you didn't want to remember the events of tonight ever. your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as your foot presses even harder on the break.

the tears you held back earlier now begin to fall, and you mentally curse yourself for not holding them in longer. now you couldn't see anything, your vision blurry as you bring a hand up and off the steering wheel to wipe your eyes, trying to see through the windshield again. it doesn't work, and now you're just hoping that you won't lose control over the car. the limited time that your vision is cleared, you can see matt following close behind your car on a black bike, and your first instinct is to freeze and stare.

you don't make the turn, stomping on the brakes in the middle of the road as you watch your boy come closer and closer. his eyes widen, lips parting before you hear a cry of your name tumble from his lips. the only noise you hear is a loud horn coming from the left of you, your head whipping to the side and watching as a large truck comes your way at a fast pace. then, you hear the ringing in your ear, eyes squeezing shut as you let your arms fall to the side of you.

the truck t-bones your car, sending both of the vehicles flying to the right quickly. you smell gas, feeling the wet sensation of blood dripping down your temple and running down the bridge of your nose. your body feels weak, like you can't move, so you just sit there, head lying against the airbag on the steering wheel as you slip into unconsciousness. matt watches in shock and fear as your car tips on its side and smoke begins to erupt from the hood of the car. his heart feels like it stops beating for a moment as he watches the truck reverse and drive off quickly, anger coursing through his veins as he jumps off the bike and lets it fall to the pavement of the sidewalk.

he runs over to your car, his chest heaving up and down quickly as he makes an effort to tip the car back on its wheels. it doesn't work, though, and he grunts as he throws himself against the metal of the roof, "y/n, hey!" his voice seems to snap you out of your daze, now feeling fully conscious as your eyes flutter open again. your body fell against the car door, the seatbelt strap felt like it was suffocating you. the small space of the car suddenly made you weary, eyes widening as your breathing picked up rapidly.

"don't! stop, y/n, don't panic," matt breathes out, trying his best to come off as calm and collected. but he's really not, he's far from anything relatively close to the sort. more footsteps are heard behind him, and now his neighbor is standing a few feet beside matt, "what the fuck happened?"

"doesn't matter. js' help me flip the car, would you?" matt sighs, the panic in his body rising as the smell of gas surfaces. the car flips onto the wheels after quite a moment of struggles, and matt doesn't hesitate to throw youe car door open and grab you. his feet take him stumbling away from the car again, holding you tightly in his arms as if he let go, he would lose you. again. a string of coughs erupt from your throat as you and matt fall gently to the grass of someone's front yard, and matt lies you down as he props himself up with his elbows.

his neighbor is already far away, phone up to his ear as he watches the car explode into flames, the windows of nearby houses reflecting the burning red, orange, and blue lights. matt breathes out as he grips the fabric of his hoodie, more tears coming to his eyes at the realization that if he hadn't left sooner, you would've died. his head moves away entirely from the scene, looking back at your weak body that lay on the grass beside him.

only then does he notice the large gash just below your hairline, and his breath hitches again as he struggles to throw his hoodie over his head and hold it against your own. his other hand cradles the back of your head, his body hovering over yours as he silently prays that you'll be alright. the blood has already traveled down your neck, though. it soaks your white shirt as your head falls to the side, eyes threatening to close as you mutter out jumbled up words, "hey, hey, come on, look at me, y/n. please, look at me. open your eyes, come on..!"

"baby, please. just stay awake, please. my pretty girl, come on..!!" he whispers, anger overcoming his being as he grips the fabric in his hands tighter. he's so angry at himself. he wished he was the one in that car. he should've been the one to experience this, not you. you didn't deserve this at all. it was all his fault, what happened to you. what if he had just talked with you? what if he had just said sorry? what if, what if, what if?

the world seems to spinning faster than usual right now, your head aching as you look at your surroundings. as you look up at the sky, you're met with the cool shade of blue that slowly fades to orange and pink as it travels beneath the mountain until you can't see. then, you make out the frame of matts face, his eyes full of worry and his hair messy. tears stream down his face as he cried quietly, "matt?" you mutter weakly, eyes teary and bloodshot. he nods frantically, a small smile forming on his lips as he whispers, "yes, yes, yes. it's me." but then it all goes away.

matt? who was matt? your face contorts into a look of confusion as you try to tilt your head, only to hiss at the sting the small movement causes, "what—who? who are you?" the hope is washed away by those few words, and the brunettes smile disappears as he feels tiny, imaginary daggers stabbing away at his heart. he doesn't have time to speak before he finally hears the blaring sounds of sirens coming down the street. multiple emergency vehicles drive down the pavement quickly, stopping at the scene. matt is suddenly being pulled away from your frail body, fighting against the hands of the paramedics as he tries to yell out your name. nothing comes out, though, his voice too tired to be used anymore.

his vision is blurred, but he can still make out the way your eyes close softly as your head falls to the side. his heart shatters as he cries out your name finally, all the emotions so overwhelming he doesn't know what else to say. then his brothers are holding him close, trying to calm him down as all three of them stumble to the pavement of their driveway, "matt, hey, look at us. she'll be okay." nick whispers reassuringly, but he doesn't know if that's true. chris just stares blankly as the paramedics carry you on a gurney into the back of the ambulance.

your lip is busted, blood dripping down your head quickly and multiple bruises scattered across your body. the ambulance doors begin to close, and matt quickly jumps up from his place between his brothers and sprints towards the red car. his hands pry the doors open again, eyes wild as he stares at the caretakers in the back of the ambulance, "please, let me come. i need to be here with her, just—" one of the paramedics nod, and that's all the confirmation matt needs to jump into the back and take his place beside your head.

the car shakes subtly on the gravelly road, and the gentle coos of... him make your eyelids open slowly. you want to get up, so you make an effort to move yourself off the gurney in the back of the ambulance, but the paramedics only urge to stay where you're at, "you have to lay down, you're in terrible shape, sweetheart." but why? what even happened? where were you and why were you there?

who were these people? no, who was the guy right beside you who continued to stroke your hair gently? you don't even know yourself right now. did you hit your head? is that why it ached? what about your body? your eyes move around the small, confined space of the ambulance, stopping when you look out of the little window in the back door. the car continues to move down the street, but you still don't remember where you're going or where you were coming from.

"what happened?" you finally speak, but your voice is low and quiet, barely audible to anyone over the beeping of machines and the rocks beneath the road. matt sighs quietly, and now your attention is on him, "you got in a car crash. you're okay, now, so, don't worry." he gives you a gentle smile, but you only give him a look of confusion and worry.

"no?" you try to argue, looking around at the paramedics beside you. they only nod, and your heart drops once again. you were always a safe driver, or at least that's what you think in that moment. everything in your mind is so blurry you don't even remember what happened yesterday or what plans you made for the future. and still, you didn't know the guy touching your face.

matt watches as you space out, his thumb stroking your cheek affectionately as he frowns. he remembers the look on your face earlier that night, when he broke things off, and now it's back. that dumbfounded look that makes your lips part and your eyes squint subtly. you looked the same at times, even when half your face was beat up. he didn't care, though, he still thought you were beautiful, always. he brings his hand up to brush a stray hair out of your face, and only then do you turn your head to look at him again.

"who are you..?" you whisper, eyes looking him up and down. his hair is messy, eyes droopy, cheeks stained with tears, and his clothing is wrinkled. matt tilts his head, a smile coming to his face as more tears well up in his eyes, "you don't remember me?" you shake your head the best you can, squinting your eyes to try and get a better look at him. it feels like you should remember him, it seems like he was an important person in your life, but you can't quite grasp who he was to you.

"you don't even remember calling out to me?" another shake of your head, and matt inhales sharply. he wanted to scream and cry. he wanted you to comfort him. he wanted you back. but he should've known you wouldn't remember it. he should've taken the hint the moment you asked who he was. it still hurt, though. it felt like the entire world was bashing him. emotionally and physically, it hurt, the guilt weighing down on his shoulders as he stared at your confused face, sniffling quietly before he took his hands off your head.

the drive continues, but this time the tension is thicker then before. the silence is so loud, you barely hear the loud blaring of a truck horn coming from outside of the car. you flinch hard, eyes shutting closed as you try and shield your face. matt watches with teary eyes, letting out a breath of sympathy as he replays the events in his head. then, the entire thing comes back to you. the loud horn, the smell of gas, the blood sticking to your hair and the boy who came to save you.

red, orange, blue. the fire. the screams and the cries that the boy let out for you. he was the first person to come after you because he cared for you. you still didn't know why, though. why did he care so much? why did he feel the need to save you? "i told you even then you looked so pretty, y/n. you still do, you'll always be beautiful to me." the brunette whispered, leaning over your frail body as he gave you a gentle smile. his eyes were teary, though, and he looked hurt. very hurt.

"i—i'm sorry." is all you can say at the moment, eyes traveling to his as you frown. he shakes his head, lips parting to inhale shakily before he speaks, "don't be. ts' not you're fault," he smiles, but when he looks back into your eyes, they're swarming with the tiniest bit of guilt, "you do know that, right?" nothing but silence from your end. the boy takes your hand lightly, careful not to accidentally hurt you as he runs his thumb along the top, "it was never your fault, baby. i promise you, it was my—it was that truckers fault for not stopping."

your lips curve into the smallest smile as you make an effort to hold his hand, and the boy almost bursts out into sobs as he feels it. his head turns away from you for a few moments, trying to recollect himself as he takes deep breaths. when he finally looks back at you, your eyes are already on him, "i'm—i'm matt, you're boyfriend. but... we need to talk about a few things, 'kay..?"

tags: @jetaimevous @livialifesblog @watercolorskyy @blahbel668 @her-favorite

@wiidfi0wer33

[wannabeschyulersister]

you keep his shirt, he keeps his word

The strong aroma of coffee woke you up that morning. It confused you because you were absolutely sure that your coffee maker was still in a box somewhere. Opening your eyes, it only took you a matter of five seconds to realize that you weren’t in your new apartment.

You were in Carmen Berzatto’s bed.

What started off as a night where you were meeting your best friend’s work friends ended up with you in the bed of one of them.

You never did this kind of thing. You never met a guy at a bar and went back to his place.

There was just something about Carmen.

When Sydney first introduced you to him in that small bar near The Bear, you literally fell in love with his eyes. They were this beautiful shade of blue. You instantly got jealous of him because of them. How ordinary your eyes were compared to his.

You wanted to stay far away from him, scared that you’d do or say something stupid. He eventually made his way back towards you and the rest was history.

Sydney gave you a rundown before you met everyone. She informed you that Carmen was shy as hell and often kept to himself. She also said to not be offended if he did so.

It surprised you when he made his way towards you and struck a conversation. It started off a little slow but there was this unspoken connection that blossomed.

He was shy in a totally adorable way and super charming. Sydney and everyone else that worked with him on a near daily basis was shocked at how he was acting. They didn’t dare think that he’d be the guy to approach a woman and have an actual conversation.

You sat with him in the little corner of the bar and talked about everything. He wanted to know what made you move to Chicago. How you knew Sydney. What your favorite food was.

His last question surprised you, “Would you like to go back to my place?”

Your response surprised you the most, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Fast forward to eight hours later and you were still tangled up in his sheets. You sat up and looked around for your belongings. You quickly found your phone, purse, jeans and undergarments. The shirt you wore last night was nowhere to be found.

You grabbed the first white shirt that you saw and slipped your clothes back on.

This was all new territory to you. You had no idea what you should do. Thank him for a great evening? Give him a high five? Run out without saying anything?

The door to his bedroom was cracked open. You heard the soft sounds of the radio playing.

As quietly as you could, you walked down the hallway and made your way to the main living area. You spotted Carmen in his kitchen. Shirtless.

He was at the stove. The sizzling of the pan and the smell made your stomach growl. Carmen turned to grab a plate when he saw you standing in the doorway.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He asked you.

You nodded, “Uh, yeah I did surprisingly.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m one of those people that has a hard time falling asleep if it isn’t in my own bed.”

“I’m glad that you were comfortable enough here to where that wasn’t a problem.” He made his way towards you and tugged on your- his shirt, “Looks good on you.”

You looked down and he still had a grip on you, “I normally don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Have one night stands. Going back to a guy’s apartment after barely meeting him isn’t really my thing.” You confessed. Part of you hoped he believed you. The other part didn’t want to be ashamed if it was something that you normally did.

One night stands weren’t something to be embarrassed about. You were a single woman who could date/hook up with anyone she wanted.

“Was this just a one night kinda thing to you?” Carmen asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, “What do you think?”

You wanted him to answer before you could. It was killing you inside to figure out what he was thinking.

“I think that last night, I met a woman that I would really like to get to know better.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Really?”

He nodded and grinned, “Yes, really. Plus, you look great in my clothes and out of them.”

“Well that was a smooth line if I ever heard one.”

“There’s plenty more of that if you stick around with me,” Carmen leaned closer and placed a sweet kiss on your lips, “I made you breakfast.”

“You’re going to spoil me, Berzatto.” You set your purse down before taking a seat at his counter. He served you a delicious looking omelette with a cup of coffee.

“I plan to do so as long as you’ll let me. I’m a man of my word.”

[munson-blurbs]

Emperor Geta x Concubine!Reader

Summary: The emperor catches you in the library, going against his direct orders, and there is a price to pay for your disobedience.

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, degradation, mention of spit, breeding kink if you squint, jealousy, Geta is horrible but we like it.

A/N: "Augustus" is the term that a concubine would use to address the emperor. Thank you to my favorite history nerds, @lokis-army-77 and @offensiunculae, for their help in ensuring accuracy.

Divider credit to @saradika

“What are you doing in here?”

The sharp voice drew you from your reading. You tried closing the book and hiding it beneath the marble table, but you knew you’d already been caught. There was no safe place to lay your gaze. If you looked at him, he would yell at you for daring to look an emperor in the eyes; if you looked away, he would berate you for your cowardice.

You chose the latter option, heart catching in your throat as Geta’s footsteps drew closer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the gala?”

“I–” You steadied yourself, hoping your words didn’t fall apart before they could even leave your tongue. “All of the preparations are finished, Augustus.”

That was the wrong answer. You should have excused yourself and found another task, if only to keep busy. His fingers, free from the calluses that marred the hands of gladiators, gripped your chin with a possessive force.

“Look at me when I speak to you, concubine,” Geta snapped. His dark eyes radiated flames that scorched you with a single look. “You know you are not to be here. Ever. You are to stay in your quarters until you’re summoned.”

You nodded, humiliation heating your body. “My apologies.” 

Geta ignored you and yanked the book from your grasp, turning the pages with careless abandon. He never cared for reading, or for education; why would he, when power was handed to him upon a silver platter? 

“What purpose does this serve you, concubine? Are you so dissatisfied here that you need to lose yourself in other worlds?”

“No, Augustus.” The lie was too fast, and you knew he caught it, in spite of his remarkable ability to only focus on his own needs.

The emperor’s smile was wicked. “After all I’ve provided for you,” he purred, “you can’t even offer me the truth?”

Tears stung in your eyes; a sob lodged in your throat rendering you unable to speak. It was no matter for Geta, who insisted upon capturing your words for you. “It’s her, isn’t it?” A chuckle emanated from his diaphragm. “You had me all to yourself for some time, and now you have to share my affections.” His thumb brushed your chin again; this time, you could have sworn there was an ounce of compassion in his touch.

“Yes, Augustus.”

Geta tossed the book aside. “And so your solution was to directly defy my orders? Is that how you sought my attention?” He leaned in so his forehead pressed against yours. “This library is off-limits for concubines.”

“So I’m meant to sit around and wait for you to summon me?” The retort could have earned you a smack to the face, and you braced yourself for the impact. 

Yet it never came.

Instead, Geta’s smirk deepened, his hand enclosing your wrist. “That is exactly what you are meant to do,” he growled. “You are nothing more than a common whore, and yet you are audacious enough to expect the treatment of a wife.”

“That is not what I–”

“Tell me what you believe you deserve.” His words clipped yours. “To be adored? Revered? Worshiped?” The last suggestion drew a heinous laugh. “You want me whispering in your ear, making remarks of your beauty and the desires you stir within me?”

Honesty mingled with shame as the tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“Say it.”

“Yes!” Embarrassment strangled your confirmation. “I want you to myself. I want us to share a marriage bed. I want you to tell me that you need me.”

One tooth scraped over his lower lip. “That’s what I thought.”

A gasp escaped you as he tugged you closer, nose grazing yours. If you lacked the knowledge of prior experiences, you might have anticipated a kiss. 

“Bend over the table.”

You did as he ordered, bracing your forearms on the cool marble. Geta gripped the hem of your tunic, pushing it above the curve of your ass. His palm hit your flesh with enough force to bruise; though you couldn’t see his face, you knew your yelp brought to it a smile. 

“This is all you’re good for.” He fumbled with his own garments, hissing as his erection made contact with the air. You heard him spit on his cock, rubbing the saliva over the shaft. “And you know it, too. You may fill your head with these inane writings, but you know you simply want to be filled with me.”

His words sent lust rippling through you, amplified only by the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You felt yourself stretch around him, his wanton moan the only betrayal of his dominance. 

One hand grabbed your waist and the other wrapped around your neck, squeezing as he yanked you closer. 

“Is this what you’ve been brooding over?” He delivered another swift spank when you whimpered your yes. “You’re so pathetic, resigning yourself to an object. My object.”

You clenched around him at the identifier. His object. No matter that he was not yours. You were his, at least in this moment. 

Geta rocked himself with pounding thrusts that sent his pelvis colliding into your rear. “Say that you’re pathetic. That you’re weak for me. That you would do anything for my seed.”

You found your voice in time to comply. “I’m pathetic, Augustus. I’m weak for you. I would do anything for your seed.”

He laughed at this. “I could do anything I wanted and you would let me, so long as I attend to you.”

“Anything you wanted,” you echoed. Your climax was building; just a few more moments until it shrouded you in pure pleasure. “Anything for you.”

“How utterly pitiful.” Grunts punctuated his taunt. “I might be inclined to feel sorry for you if I possessed that capacity.” He withdrew until just his tip was inside you and promptly slammed back in. Empty, so horribly empty, and then deliciously full.

Geta’s groans echoed throughout the library, growing louder as his own orgasm neared. “Take it, take it all, my little whore.”

He spilled into you with harsh, sloppy thrusts. The hand around your throat restricted your airflow to its minimum; you ached to cry out his name, even his title. He only loosened his grip once he was completely spent.

He held you in place as he caught his breath, carefully pulling out so the evidence of his release stayed within you. “Ready yourself for the gala,” he said tersely. “I will send for you when the time arrives.”

“Yes, Augustus.” You moved to leave, but your insecurities hooked their talons into you and drew you back. “Does she also get your seed?” His other concubine. The other woman he kept around to bring him pleasure.

Confusion marred Geta’s smug expression for a second, but he quickly composed himself. “She hasn’t earned it.”

You nodded, trying not to let pride swell your head. She hasn’t earned it, but you have. “Thank you, Augustus.”

His acknowledgment was an unintelligible grumble, but you could have sworn he let his gaze linger for a beat longer than he had before.

--

Tagging some people who might be interested:

@happilyeverafterforme @daisy-munson @strawbbzombwie @mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel