#i really like him with dark hair though i really like the silver too

[hisfavegirl]

Beneath the Veil of Sin.

Pairing : Modern!Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary : This is a story of a love too powerful to ignore, yet too dangerous to embrace, where desire thrives in the dark, and the cost of passion may be more than either of them can bear.

The city lights were a blur as the car hummed steadily down the highway, the night air cool as it filtered through the slightly cracked window. You were on your way back from Daemon’s office party, a glamorous affair filled with work colleagues and polite conversation. You had always found such events to be a mix of excitement and discomfort, but with Daemon by your side, it had been far easier to navigate the endless smiles and small talk.

Daemon was different tonight, though. Even more handsome than usual, dressed in his perfectly tailored suit, his silver hair slightly tousled from the day’s events. He always had this air of confidence about him, but tonight, there was something more—a kind of quiet grace that made your heart beat just a little faster. The way his jawline was sharp, the way his eyes always seemed to hold a certain depth, even in the dim glow of the car’s interior—it was hard not to look at him.

As you stole another glance, you caught Daemon’s eyes flickering to you in the rearview mirror. There was a brief pause before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he chuckled softly.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement, but the kind of softness that made it clear he knew exactly why you was looking at him.

You blushed, a little caught off guard, but managed to stutter out, “No, it’s just… you look really good tonight.”

Daemon’s smile widened, but his gaze quickly returned to the road. “Always the charmer,” he teased lightly, his voice rich with affection.

The hum of the engine and the soft rush of wind through the window filled the quiet moments that followed. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was a kind of quiet that you had come to appreciate—a silence shared between two people who didn’t need words to understand each other.

You watched as his hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly in time with the beat of the music playing softly from the car speakers. The steady rhythm made everything feel calm, grounding me in this moment with him. The road stretched out ahead of us, endless and wide, but in the moment, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

After a few moments, Daemon let out a soft laugh again, almost to himself, before speaking up. “You know, you make me nervous when you look at me like that.”

You frowned slightly. “Why?”

He glanced at you again, his eyes warm. “Because I know you see right through me. And sometimes, that’s a little… too much.”

you tilted your head, trying to read his expression. “I don’t see anything I don’t like,” you said, your voice sincere.

Daemon’s eyes softened, and he gave a quiet chuckle, the sound almost like a secret. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” he mused, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You leaned back against the seat, the warmth of his words settling comfortably in the space between us. You didn’t need anything more, not right now. Just this—being here with him, sharing the quiet of the drive, was enough.

The road ahead seemed to stretch forever, but for once, You wasn’t thinking about where we were going. you was thinking about right now.

The car rolled steadily down the highway, the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic sound of the tires against the road were the only things breaking the silence. Daemon had his hand on the wheel, his fingers lightly tapping to the beat of the song playing softly in the background. The quiet comfort of the ride should have been enough, but there was a subtle shift in the air-an unspoken tension that had started to grow between us.

You didn't expect it. One moment, everything was calm, and the next, his hand—warm and firm-was gently brushing against your thigh. You froze for a moment, your breath catching in my throat.

His touch was so casual, so light, yet it sent a ripple of heat straight through you. You could feel the weight of his hand resting there, his fingers barely grazing the skin of your inner thigh.

You looked over him, catching his gaze for just a brief second, and he seemed completely at ease, his expression not betraying any hint of the small, quiet power that his touch had over you. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, and finally managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Daemon... you should focus on the road."

He glanced at you, his lips curling into a small, playful smile, his eyes flickering with amusement. "I am focusing," he teased, his voice low and smooth, like a whisper just for you. But his hand didn't move. Instead, it lingered, his fingers slowly making small, deliberate circles against your thigh.

You couldn't help but glance down, feeling the heat of his touch spreading through your body, making everything else seem distant and irrelevant. The weight of the moment was heavy-too heavy. You should have told him to stop, You should have pulled away, but something inside you stayed still, rooted in place by the connection between two of you.

Daemon's gaze flickered back to the road, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, and the smile tugging at his lips only deepened. "You're not making this easy, you know," he said, his voice teasing but layered with something darker, something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

You shifted in your seat, your body betraying you as you tried to pull away, but his hand didn't budge. It stayed there, light but persistent, a quiet reminder of how much of a hold he had on you.

"You should really pay attention," You muttered, your voice almost breathless now, your heart hammering in your chest.

Daemon chuckled softly, a sound that made the air between you crackle with something that felt dangerously close to something more. "I'm paying attention to you, princess," he said, his fingers tightening ever so slightly, as if to make sure you felt the weight of his touch.

The warmth from his hand, the subtle pressure, made your pulse race even faster. You felt trapped between wanting to pull away and wanting to stay exactly where you were. The air in the car felt thick, heavy with the unspoken, and you realized that this-this moment, with Daemon's touch lingering so close-was pushing you into dangerous territory.

"Daemon..." you whispered, your voice shaking, but before you could say anything more, his thumb brushed a little too close to where you could feel the fire building inside of you.

He didn't say anything more. His gaze was locked on the road, but you could feel the shift in him, the same tension that you felt in the pit of my stomach. For a moment, the world outside the car felt irrelevant. All that mattered was the two of us in this small space, tangled up in something neither of you knew how to untangle.

You bit my lip, your mind racing, and you realized that no matter how hard you tried to fight it, Daemon was never going to let you forget just how much control he had over you.

His hand, still resting on your thigh, seemed to burn through the fabric of your dress, and your breath caught in your throat. His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, a touch so light yet so possessive that it left me both frozen and restless, trapped in the tension he had created.

Finally, his voice broke through the quiet, low and full of something dark and simmering. "I've been holding back since the party," he murmured, his voice rough as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. "Seeing you in that dress, the way everyone looked at you... it's been driving me crazy."

You couldn't breathe. The weight of his words settled into the pit of your stomach, making everything inside you stir with a dangerous desire you hadn't expected. His hand remained steady on your thigh, each stroke sending jolts of heat through your body.

The thought of everyone at the party-his colleagues, the way they looked at you, the way they wanted you— made you feel both exposed and wanted in a way that was completely intoxicating. But it was Daemon's reaction, the way his jealousy flickered beneath th urface, that made you pulse race even faster.

Daemon's grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing a little higher on your inner thigh, and you shivered. "Seeing their eyes on you," he continued, his voice darker now, "like they couldn't wait to get their hands on you. It made me see red."

You bit my lip, trying to ignore the overwhelming sensation of his touch, but your body betrayed you, leaning ever so slightly into his warmth. You knew he was still looking at you, his gaze intense, but your own eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, unwilling to meet his. The emotions swirling between you-desire, possessiveness, and something much deeper-felt too much to handle.

"Daemon," You whispered, your voice barely audible, torn between wanting to pull away and the undeniable pull toward him. "You shouldn't be doing this."

He chuckled, low and deep, his fingers curling against my skin. "But I want to," he said, his voice thick with desire. "And I think you do, too."

You wanted to protest. You should have protested. But in the face of his touch, of the heat radiating from him, You found your words stuck in your throat. The world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in this dangerous, forbidden moment. The tension was suffocating, and yet, You couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

Daemon's gaze never left you, his smoldering eyes flickering with something dark and intense. "You don't know how hard it's been to control myself," he murmured, his voice low, almost like a growl. "I've wanted to kiss you all night. I've wanted to take you and show you how much I need you."

The raw honesty in his words was enough to make your breath hitch, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. He was dangerous, his words and touch dangerous, but there was something thrilling in that danger, something you couldn't ignore.

His hand moved again, this time higher, pressing against your heated core. "And seeing the way they looked at you," he added, his tone harsh now, "it made me want to claim you in front of everyone."

You moaned as you felt his hand start to stroke your core, his movements slow and sure. making small circles, which sent heat throughout your body. you leaned back in the car seat and spread your legs, the daemon who saw it just laughed softly. "look, my beautiful girlfriend turned into a whore because of my touch?"

Then you could feel him remove the g string you were wearing and insert two fingers, you arched your body because of it. his thumbs started to stroke your clit sending shivers through your body "Daemon.."

Daemon glanced at you before he finally moved his two fingers, curling them to touch your spot. He could feel your walls squeezing his fingers, and made him imagine how your walls would wrap around his hardening cock. He growled at the thought. "fuck, you look so hot you know that?"

His fingers continued to curl in and out of you, making the knot in your stomach tighten. You tried to hold back your moans, but to no avail. He added another finger and his thumb continued to stroke your clit as it began to swell. you opened your eyes, looking at him with a lustful gaze. your body arched again when his finger touched your spot, daemon just chuckled darkly he knew the power he held over you.

Your body begins to tremble as waves of pleasure wash over you. Slowly he pulled his finger that was wet with your fluids, then he sucked his finger. Feeling you on his tongue, he let out a hum of approval. "You taste so sweet my love" Your breath quickens, you lean back weakly, gathering your strength after the pleasure that he gave you.

Your eyes darted toward him, catching the way his jaw tightened, the way his grip on the steering wheel grew firmer. He looked calm on the surface, but you knew better. The restraint was costing him, and something about that knowledge sent a thrill through you.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you lifted your hand and placed it on his thigh.

His reaction was instant. You felt his muscles tense beneath your palm, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his suit pants. He inhaled sharply, his grip on the wheel tightening as his knuckles whitened. His gaze didn't leave the road, but the change in his demeanor was unmistakable.

"Careful," he said, his voice low and strained. It was a warning, but there was no real threat in it —only a challenge, one that made your pulse quicken.

You let your hand rest there for a moment, testing the waters. His thigh was firm under your touch, and the heat of his body seemed to seep into your skin. You shifted your fingers slightly, just enough to remind him of your presence, and his reaction didn't disappoint.

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and you swore you heard him curse under his breath.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, your voice innocent but laced with a hint of mischief.

His laugh was low and humorless, tinged with disbelief. "You know exactly what you're doing."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Do !?"

The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were fighting a smirk. He glanced at you briefly, his eyes dark and full of something dangerous. "If you're trying to test my patience, love, you're doing a damn good job."

You smiled, letting your fingers move ever so slightly, tracing a small, teasing pattern on his thigh. "You seemed tense," you said softly, your tone laced with mock concern. "I thought I'd help."

His laugh this time was low and guttural, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "You're playing with fire."

"Maybe," you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced. "But I don't think you'll stop me."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you crackled like a live wire, and you could feel the weight of his desire pressing down on you, almost suffocating in its intensity.

Finally, Daemon exhaled sharply, a sound that was part frustration, part surrender. "You're going to drive me mad," he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady.

"Maybe," you repeated, a small smile playing on your lips.

Your hand rested lightly on his thigh, the heat of his body radiating through the fabric of his suit. You could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Daemon's gaze remained fixed on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white against the dark leather.

You let your fingers move slowly, tracing light, teasing circles on his thigh. His reaction was immediate-a sharp intake of breath, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to maintain control.

"Careful," he warned, his voice low and strained, but the edge in his tone only encouraged you.

Feigning innocence, you tilted your head and let your fingers trail a little higher. "What is it?" you asked softly, your voice laced with a playful curiosity.

His grip on the wheel tightened further, and his gaze flicked toward you for the briefest of moments, dark and smoldering. "Don't push me," he said, his voice a warning, though it lacked conviction.

You smiled, emboldened by the way his body betrayed him, the way his breathing had grown heavier. Your fingers continued their slow ascent, the teasing touch deliberate, testing.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stop?" you asked, your voice soft but teasing.

Daemon let out a low, guttural laugh, his head shaking slightly. "You're playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice rough.

"Am I?" you countered, your hand moving higher still, brushing against the fabric of his suit in a way that made him shift in his seat.

His reaction sent a thrill through you. His breathing was heavier now, his composure slipping, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. But just as your hand ventured too far, his own hand shot down, gripping your wrist firmly, stopping you in your tracks.

"Enough," he said, his voice sharp, commanding. His eyes darted to you, dark and filled with warning. "Don't push me unless you're ready to handle what comes next."

You leaned your body closer to him, your lips very close to his ear "maybe I can handle what will happen after this" then you bit the tip of his ear which made him moan softly.

Your hands began to unbuckle his belt, his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Your hands then stroked his hardened cock, and you pulled it out of his pants. seeing his erect and red cock made your mouth water. Without thinking you brought your mouth to suck on the tip causing Daemon to moan.

"fuck love, you are something else" he growled as he pushed your head down, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth. The tip of his cock touched the tip of your throat causing you to gag. You start sucking his cock, you bop your head in a slow and steady rhythm. His hands don't stay still he helps you by guide your head.

"fuck, your mouth fits so perfectly on my cock" he growled as he pushed your head to force his cock all the way down your throat. tears were already gathering in your eyes, due to choking on his cock.

His gaze remained on the road, but every now and then he glanced at you. His beautiful girlfriend was sucking his cock in the car. You could feel his cock starting to twitch in your mouth, he growled softly before finally cumming in your mouth. you suck his cock one last time before lifting your head and swallowing all of his cum. He laughed softly and shook his head, you sat back in your chair and smiled at him. "you really are something else my love"

The car slowed to a stop, the tires humming gently as Daemon pulled into a quiet, deserted area. The streetlights were few and far between, casting long shadows over the road. The silence in the car felt suffocating now, even more so than before.

Your heart raced as Daemon put the car in park. His hand remained on the wheel for a moment longer, his fingers curled tightly around it. You could feel the intensity building between you, an electric charge in the air that made it hard to breathe.

He turned to you then, his gaze dark and unyielding, like a storm waiting to break. There was no trace of the calm, collected Daemon you knew—his eyes were filled with something raw, something dangerous. The tension between you thickened, and you felt an unfamiliar pull, a magnetic force drawing you closer to him despite your mind screaming at you to stop.

Daemon didn’t speak at first. He just watched you, his stare heavy and possessive. The way he looked at you, as though he were seeing right through you, made your pulse race even faster.

“You’ve been testing me all night,” he said, his voice low and filled with a hunger you couldn’t ignore. The words were barely a whisper, but they felt like a command. “And now I think it’s time for you to learn what happens when you do.”

His voice, thick with desire, sent a shiver down your spine. The air around you seemed to get thicker, charged with the unspoken need between you. Daemon’s eyes never left yours, dark and intense, as though he was trying to read every thought in your mind.

You wanted to speak, to protest, but no words came. The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and before you could stop yourself, your breath hitched. You were no longer sure whether you wanted to stop or if you were ready to give in.

Daemon leaned in, closing the distance between you, his face just inches from yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispered, “Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

Every muscle in your body tensed, but you couldn’t pull away. His words, that commanding, dark tone, ignited something deep inside you, something you’d tried so hard to push down.

Daemon’s fingers brushed your chin, lifting your face so that your eyes met his once more. “You’ve had your fun,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, “but now it’s my turn.”

The moment his lips brushed yours, everything else ceased to exist. Time slowed, the world outside the car fading into nothing as Daemon's kiss deepened, slow but firm, as if he were claiming you, marking you in ways words couldn't capture. His lips were warm, commanding, and unmistakably sure, and the way he kissed you made your heart race with a mixture of anticipation and something far more dangerous.

At first, the kiss was gentle, a teasing exploration, as if he was testing your reaction.

But as his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, the kiss turned more urgent, more possessive. He wasn't asking for permission anymore. He was taking, and you found yourself unable to pull away.

Your breath hitched as his other hand slid to your waist, pulling you into his chest. The heat between you was consuming, and you felt a wave of desire surge through you, igniting every nerve in your body. His lips moved with a rhythm that felt as if he had been waiting for this moment, and you couldn't help but respond in kind, lips parting slightly as a soft, breathless sound escaped you.

Daemon's mouth was insistent, demanding, and each press of his lips sent a shockwave of heat flooding through you. His kiss wasn't just about passion-it was about claiming you, taking ownership of the space between you, and you could feel it, deep in your bones.

You could feel the tension in his body, his restraint slipping as his hand slid lower, fingertips grazing your side. He made no attempt to pull back, and neither did you. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit, pulling him closer, as if you couldn't get enough of him.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just breathed in unison, hearts racing, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Daemon's eyes were dark, his pupils dilated, and the look in them was more than a promise-it was a claim.

Before you could fully process what was happening, you found yourself straddling his lap, Daemon's hands guiding you there with a possessiveness that made your heart race. His lips were on yours again, this time with a hunger that matched the intensity in your veins. Every kiss was a mixture of passion and control, his mouth pressing against yours with a force that was almost overwhelming, but you didn't want him to stop.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. His breath was ragged against your lips, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you felt the steady, insistent pulse of desire in every movement.

Daemon's hands slid to your back, pulling you even closer, his body hard and unyielding against yours. The feeling of him-so close, so present-was intoxicating, and for a moment, all your thoughts and doubts vanished. There was only him. Only this moment. Only the way his lips moved against yours with a rhythm you instinctively followed.

His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. The sensation of his mouth, claiming, taking, was enough to make your heart pound louder, the world around you growing smaller with every touch, every caress.

You moaned softly, and the sound seemed to fuel him. His hands slid down your body, tracing the curves of your waist before they settled on your hips, urging you closer to him. Every touch sent shivers through you, your senses completely consumed by him.

As your hands worked through his hair, tugging him closer, Daemon growled softly in approval, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You shuddered at the sensation, your body reacting to every movement of his with a desperate need.

In that moment, everything felt heightened-the way his body felt beneath you, the heat between you both, the unspoken promises in every kiss. Your hands roamed over him, feeling the firm muscle of his chest and shoulders, as if trying to memorize the feel of him.

His fingers brushed against your side, sending a wave of heat through you, and you couldn't help but arch into his touch, the desire surging through you with every second.

His hands moved with purpose, steady and sure, as he adjusted the seat. The sound of the seat reclining echoed in the car, and before you could fully comprehend it, you found yourself leaning back into the now-angled seat, His body moving with you, keeping you close.

His lips didn't leave yours, deepening the kiss, and his hands roamed with greater urgency, his touch both gentle and commanding as he traced the curve of your body. The world outside was a distant memory, the night air and the dark road no longer mattering. It was just the two of you now, caught in an overwhelming tide of desire and tension.

With a swift motion, his hand slid up to your neck, his fingers gently gripping it, not in a way that hurt, but in a way that made you feel tethered to him. He controlled the rhythm, his mouth claiming yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the solidness of him beneath you, the way he held you as if you were the only thing that mattered. Your hands continued their exploration of his chest, pulling at his jacket, desperate to feel more of him, to pull him closer, closer, until there was no space between you at all.

His breath was ragged against your lips, and as his hand moved to your side, you gasped, feeling his touch trail up the edge of your ribcage. He was so close, so in tune with every shift of your body, that you felt as if you were slowly losing yourself in him, consumed by the weight of his attention.

Without breaking the kiss, he moved one of his legs, shifting you even closer, your body now pressed fully against his as the seat allowed for a deeper connection. His hands moved lower, his grip tightening as his fingertips brushed the edge of your clothing, and your heart raced as you knew there was no turning back.

He then lifts you up slightly, guide his already hard cock towards your already dripping core. As he pushed his cock in, the warmth of your walls wrapped around him and the way he stretched you so deliciously made you both moan together.

"fuck, i love it when you squeeze me like this" his hands found your waist and guided you to move your hips, you moaned feeling him fill you from this position. You could feel him all over, his veins rubbing against your walls making you go crazy. you tug his hair as he too started to slam his cock into you, chasing his own pleasure. you feel his warm breath on your neck, kissing you and moaning your name.

He keeps slamming his cock into you, and you move your hips against him to chase your pleasure. You could feel his cock starting to twitch inside you, he growled before slamming his cock roughly into you, making you moan his name.

The you feel the knot in your stomach tightening. indicating that you are about to come, he realizes it because your walls are squeezing him tightly. "come undon for me love" with his command, you let out your release. wetting his cock. then you also felt him cum inside you.

As his lips brushed against yours once more, the kiss was soft, almost tender compared to the intensity of moments before. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the moment, feeling his warmth envelop you. The taste of him lingered on your lips, and the world outside seemed to disappear as the sensation of his touch consumed your every thought.

Daemon’s hands were gentle as he helped you sit back upright, guiding you carefully into the passenger seat. His fingers brushed your skin, lingering just long enough to remind you of his presence, yet not forcing you back into the whirlwind of emotions that had just passed.

"That's enough for tonight, you should rest" His hand reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that seemed to contradict the intensity of what had just happened. The touch was gentle, soothing, as if he were trying to reassure both of you in the midst of the silence that hung between you.

As the car rolled up the driveway, the familiar sight of your home came into view. The soft glow of the lights from the front porch illuminated the pathway, and you could make out the figure of your father standing near the entrance, waiting for your arrival. His posture was relaxed, but there was something in the way he stood that made you feel the weight of his gaze.

Daemon slowed the car, eventually coming to a stop in front of your house. The sound of the engine dying down was replaced by the silence of the evening, the only movement being the gentle swaying of the trees in the wind.

Your heart raced slightly as the car came to a halt. You hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened, and now you were faced with the reality of stepping back into the world you left behind for a moment. Your father’s presence, so steady and commanding, was a stark contrast to the whirlwind that had just passed between you and Daemon.

Daemon turned to you, his eyes dark and unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—perhaps a question, a thought unspoken—before he opened the door and stepped out of the car. You followed suit, your heart pounding in your chest, though you couldn’t quite place why.

As Daemon walked around the car, you noticed your father had already taken a step forward, his expression softening slightly as he saw you. His usual composure was still in place, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes, though it wasn’t directed at you. He was waiting, his gaze shifting between you and Daemon as Daemon approached.

Without a word, Daemon opened the car door for you, his hand offering silent support as you stepped out of the vehicle. His touch lingered on your arm for a moment longer than necessary, and you met his gaze briefly, the unspoken tension between you hanging in the air.

Daemon then straightened, turning to face your father. A small, polite smile curved on Daemon’s lips, and without missing a beat, he greeted your father with a casual, but respectful tone, as if everything between them was normal.

“Harwin,” Daemon said, his voice smooth, but there was an underlying layer of something—something heavier between them that neither of them acknowledged directly.

Your father, in return, gave a small nod, though his eyes briefly flicked to you, a question hidden behind his composed exterior. “Daemon,” he replied, his tone equally neutral, though there was a certain weight to it. “How’s everything?”

Daemon’s response was equally measured, and while they exchanged pleasantries, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, unspoken and layered. There was so much more beneath the surface, but neither of them said it aloud.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

[maximura]

[heartowan]

You didn't really check the time, but it must've been past midnight when you entered Jason's place for the first time this week, quietly closing the door behind you and tossing your keys back into your bag, which you placed on the hanger by the entrance.

Your steps were lazy and spaced out as you walked around the apartment, looking for him in the dark ─ turning the lights on would be too much of a splurge, so you simply settled for an almost blind search.

Approaching the bathroom, you heard the faint sound of water splashing, the noise recognizable as you'd heard that a thousand times, almost in the same situation.

"You always choose such ungodly hours for bathing." You said, walking into the small room in silent steps.

Jason was laying peacefully in the bathtub, his head resting against the wall beside him as he had his eyes closed, probably enjoying the comfort of the scented candles lit around the tub. You could smell the vanilla from the wax mixed with the scent of the peach bathbomb you gave him some time ago.

"I think this is the best hour for it." He murmured, not bothering to raise his voice. You liked seeing him relaxed like that.

You sat down at the edge of the tub, taking in his soft appearance. He looked very peaceful, his eyes shut and face relaxed. It was one of the few times you'd seen him with his jaw unclenched.

As you sat, his head immediately leaned closer to your thigh, resting against it like a pillow. Your heart warmed at the sight and at the feeling.

You two had just started dating. Things were still so new to both of you, but they were going well. You liked each other, more than either of you cared to admit, still too scared to pour your hearts out. But moments like these proved that the feeling was deeper than you thought.

Running a gentle hand through his damp hair, you let out a short sigh. "You look so peaceful." you murmured quietly, your voice caressing his ears.

"I am." he replied, leaning into your touch. "Even more now."

You smiled at that. He liked to say sweet things when you least expected him to. Jason wasn't one for sweet talk, but he made an effort for you. To see that pretty smile on your lips, to make you feel loved, to make you feel his love.

"How did tonight go?" You murmured quietly, your fingers still caressing his scalp, almost making him purr like a cat. He loved head scratches.

"Mhm..." he hummed, deciding if he should sugarcoat it or tell you the truth. He chose the truth. "It was... awkward. Like, very, but it wasn't the worst night ever. I'm still getting used to these things."

"You're still getting used to galas?" You smiled, your tone incredulous. "I thought you went to these things all the time."

"I did a few times when I was younger." He said. "But it's harder to adapt now. I mean, inside. Outside, I think I look... not that out of place, but inside, it's messy." He explained to you, his fingers coming up to gently caress your side, making your shirt wet. But neither of you cared.

"I get it." You nodded, offering him a more understanding smile now. "I'm sure you did well, though. You always do."

"Maybe... maybe go with me next time." He murmured almost sheepishly, his eyes opening for the first time. They drank you, your appearance, your messy hair, your sparkly eyes, your pretty, pretty nose. Every part of your face, your clothes, your arms, everything. "I think you'd fit in."

"Me?" you mumbled, your voice cracking a bit, making you wince. Suddenly, you felt a little shy from his gaze and from his proposal. The thought of him wanting you of all people to be his plus one at those fancy events made you feel some kind of warm anxiety, close to a good, excited feeling. "I don't think I would, honestly."

"I can already see it... a beautiful outfit on you, your hair pretty and styled, silver jewelry, the most glorious shoes..." he mumbled. He sounded almost like he was daydreaming. "And, of course, your stunning self to go with all of it."

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh, one of those he seemed to pull out of you anytime he did or said something remotely funny. You were down bad for that man. Shaking your head, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"That sounds like an alternative reality." You said.

"I disagree." he said, looking over at you again. "In fact... wait a minute, I'll get all of that arranged right now for next month."

You stared at him in confusion, your eyebrows knitting together as he started getting up from the tube, and then your eyes widened.

"Jason-"

He got out of the bathtub, water splashing all over the edges and dripping down to the floor, as well as on you, your shirt and pants getting even damper.

You laughed again at his desperation, and at the fact that he didn't even bother to cover himself with a towel. He walked out of the bathroom in his full naked glory, droplets of water sliding down his chest as he padded over to the room, mumbling something about having to get on the phone right now.

You couldn't have chosen better.

✦

a.n: i feel like this is so stupid... also, i didn't proof read, I'm sorry!

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[lovebugism]

you’re writing for carmy now omg i’m frothing at the mouth 😭 i love the trope where reader is quiet in bed and needs to be coaxed a bit but… i feel like it would be kind of hot if reader was the one coaxing carmy? 👀 no worries if you’re not feeling this one!

ty for requesting! — you teach the bear how to use his voice in the bedroom (new relationship, inexperienced!carmy, experienced!reader-ish, smut 18+)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Carmy never notices when he’s quiet. His head is always so loud in comparison — it’s easy to forget he isn’t saying anything out loud when his mind’s constantly racing. He doesn’t mean anything by it, though. He’s just chronically observant. And painfully silent with it.

He lays on his back, pressed between unmade sheets and your warm body. The covers bunch at your bare hips as you roll in languid thrusts over his lap. A satiny summer breeze smooths over your burning skin from a cracked-open window. Every time the curtains billow, more of the moonlight peeks in. It drips in silver shades over your naked skin and your pretty face, now twisted in a look of undeniable pleasure — brows scrunched, eyes closed, mouth wide open.

Carmy’s tattooed hands rest impatiently on your hips. His fingers dig into the plush of them as he rocks you back and forth over his cock. You make pretty noises for him every time your clit brushes his coarse thatch of pubic hair, so he angles his hips just right to make sure you keep hitting that spot. 

“Carmy,” you moan in a whimsical sigh that makes his chest swell. “Just like that. ’S so good like that. Please don’t stop—”

His face, made of dark shadows and sharpened edges, is pinched in a look of acute concentration. A distant feeling of deja veux swims in his stomach. It makes him wonder if he’s seen this in a painting before. One of those Renaissance types. The kinds that are harrowingly realistic and always heart-wrenchingly beautiful in a way. 

It makes him want to draw you. Just as you are now. Head tossed back, mouth gently agape, lashes fluttering over glowing cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to do any of it justice, but he tries to memorize the soft lines of your face, anyway. 

Your hips slow to a stop. Reality hits him hard.

“Woah, woah— Hey,” Carmy mumbles in protest, brows pinched in confusion when he comes down from the clouds. Through labored breaths that make his sweaty chest rise and fall, he wonders, “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

His icy blue eyes dart over your face, searching for any sign of harm. In true Carmen Berzatto fashion, he immediately thinks he’s done something wrong — that he got too far in his own head and hurt you in some way without realizing. The anxiety is fleeting, but he feels the pinch of it anyway — right where your palm rests flat on his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, similarly panicked. Your bare chest sparkles with a thin layer of sweat and catches the moonlight with every uneven inhale.

Carmy nods rapidly, chestnut curls brushing the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m great. Why?”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, growing sheepish under his unwavering gaze. You feel a bit silly for stopping now. “You just aren’t… You aren’t really, you know… saying anything,” you answer shyly.

“Am I supposed to be saying something?”

You giggle quietly to yourself until you realize he’s being genuine. Your smile ebbs as you stammer, “Well, no, it’s just— Some people usually moan, I guess— When they feel good.”

Carmy nods firmly in reassurance. “I feel good.”

“Okay…” you nod back, slower and more unsure. 

“I promise,” he tells you, tattooed hands squeezing your sides. He shifts nervously on the mattress, similarly victimized by your adoring stare. “I just… I just like watchin’ you, I guess…”

A shy smile quirks the edges of your mouth as you peer down at the boy beneath you. “You’re sweet, bear,” you coo in a honeyed murmur.

“You’re sweeter,” Carmy insists. You think you see the faintest hint of a grin on his lips, but it’s hard to tell in the low light. “Wanna taste?” he teases a second later.

Wordlessly, you bend down for another kiss, far too chaste for his liking. He almost says something about it until you roll your hips again. The words of protest disappear when he inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” you ask him.

He nods silently, squeezing your sides in a feeble attempt to move you faster on top of him.

“Tell me.”

“Feels good,” Carmy obeys through gritted teeth.

The subtle assurance makes you moan — a pretty, breathy thing that spills accidentally from your opened mouth. All he can think about is getting you to make that sound again. 

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” he wonders aloud, very innocuously curious.

You nod, brows furrowed as you grind over his lap. The bed frame squeaks quietly when you roll your hips forward. When you roll them back again, he can hear the faint sounds of your wet pussy — the quiet schlick-ing of his cock fucking into you. The two noises play one after the other in rhythmic tandem. The sinful sounds of sex.

Carmy racks his head for something to say in the not-so-silent meanwhile. You watch him get lost in his mind and cup his cheeks between gentle palms. “Don’t think so hard about it, bear,” you say with a wavering smile. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

You duck down to kiss him again. The angle shifts. Carmy bends his knees and fucks up into you, mercilessly and without warning. Your mouth hangs open in another weak moan that fans across his chin. 

“That good?” he pants.

“Yes,” you whine. “Carmy— fuck— You’re so deep…”

Babbles spill from your mouth in thinkless slurs. They tumble from your swollen lips with an admirable effortlessness, which Carmy has never thought himself to possess. He tries, anyway, to talk to you with such sinful ease. 

“You’re huggin’ me so tight,” he mutters through a clenched jaw. The very first thought to come to mind as the velvet confines of your cunt pulsate around him, squelching quietly in time with his thrusts. “Can feel you throbbin’ around me, babe— Shit— It’s like a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

Your whine fills the quiet bedroom, adding to the symphony of bed squeaking and skin slapping. 

Carmy shifts his hips upward. The new angle allows his cock to reach a spongy depth inside you and pins your swollen clit against his happy trail, which now glimmers with a layer of your honey.

“Right there?” he pants.

You nod wordlessly until the words catch up to you. The tip of your nose brushes the bridge of his. “Yes,” you whimper. 

His brutal thrusts pick up pace a second later, never wavering in their wicked pursuit. “Let me hit that spot,” Carmy mumbles to himself like a man crazed. “Let me hit that spot, let me hit that spot.”

Pleasure swells within you, overwhelmingly so. It’s a warm and sparkling feeling in the pit of your stomach — a tightening coil, a fraying rope, a dam about to burst. The intensity of your inevitable orgasm frightens you.

“Carmy…” you whimper.

“I know,” he nods sympathetically, right before he plants his feet on the mattress. He strengthens his thrusts, which have slowly started to lose their rhythm. “It’s okay. C’mon. Cum for me— I can feel you fuckin’ drippin’ on me, baby— C’mon.”

Your jaw clenches to fight back the scream clawing at your throat. It comes out in a pitiful whimper instead when you tense over his lap. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that leave you shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

Carmy goes accidentally silent once more as he watches you, swelling with pride as you reach the height of your pleasure. His light eyes flit over your features in a feeble attempt to memorize them — the furrow between your brows, the wrinkles beside your shut eyes, the spit-slicked sheen to your kissed lips.

You’re painting brought to life. A heavenly thing he can’t believe he gets to touch with unworthy hands.

“That’s it…” Carmy murmurs lowly. The words bubble in his throat and fall from his mouth mindlessly. He doesn’t even have to think about them now. It just feels right to praise you like this. “That’s it. There you go. So pretty… Always so pretty for me.”

As your body racks with aftershocks, you seek refuge in his arms. Your weight rests entirely upon him as your tense limbs slowly relax, but Carmy doesn’t mind. He just wraps his tattooed arms around you and holds your trembling body closer.

“I got you,” he promises through labored breaths, chapped lips brushing your temple with every word. “I got you. ’S okay. You did so good for me, baby. Thank you.”

You don’t have the words to tell him that you should be the one thanking him.

[floatyflowers]

Dark!House of The Dragon Men x Reader

You tried to balance your relationship with the greens and blacks despite being Rhaenyra's daughter.

And it worked.

With Aegon II Targaryen

Both of you are close in age, as you are older then Jace.

Aegon found himself falling for you, due to many factors, not only because you are beautiful.

You are kind, intelligent, and most importantly YOU LISTEN to him.

Both of you spend too much time together with or without your mothers knowledge.

The only time he stood up to his mother is when she spoke about you in a horrid manner, calling you a bastard.

"If you dare speak about her like that ever again, I will go and inform father!"

He later on becomes your betrothed by Viserys' order to unite the house.

With Aemond Targaryen

You never mocked him like his brother and your siblings.

In fact, you became his friend and shared his interest in reading books.

The only one in house Targaryen that he felt connected to is you.

Sometimes you would sneak into his chamber in the middle of the night though the hidden passages to just chat.

So, it's hard for your Targaryen uncle not to fall for you, he even looked past your legitimacy.

You literally stood by his side when Luke took his eye and comforted him.

But hearing your engagement to his older brother made his blood boil, and he took an oath to steal you away.

Especially after claiming Vhagar, he realized he now has the ability to burn down anyone who he finds as a threat to his affection towards you.

"Don't worry, I will protect you, dear niece"

With Jacearys Velaryon

He respects and loves you dearly, you are his role model.

That is why he started to bully Aemond when he saw you pay attention to the silver haired Targaryen more than him.

When puberty hit him, he began to slowly develop feelings for you.

And what increased those feelings is that he heard his mother mention something about marrying you to him.

But all his dreams came crashing down when Viserys' announced that you would wed Aegon.

And when you actually did marry Aegon, and after years where Viserys' held a feast, Jace tried to convince you to return to Dragonstone with him.

The night he got in a fight with Aegon he let out all his fury, even if he promised to behave.

"Annual your marriage to him and marry me instead"

With Ser Criston Cole (Platonic)

He is your biological father.

And he knows that, so unlike his bad treatment towards your mother and siblings, he treated you kindly.

At the age of ten he revealed to you that he is your real father.

At first you didn't believe him, but as you grew older you did begin to realize the truth.

Instead of avoiding him, you decided to be friendly and call him 'father' when you both are alone.

One time, one of the servants accidentally spilled soup on you.

The next day that servant was found dead.

"I'm your father before being the Queen's sworn sword"

With Gwayne Hightower

He flirted with you before your wedding not realizing that you are his nephew's bride.

Gwayne hates Rhaenyra, but the thought of you being her daughter left him in disbelief.

You are nothing like your mother.

Everything about you scream honor, virtue and kindness.

Gwayne even tried to convince you to runaway before it's too late.

"You still have time to not marry Aegon"

Indeed, it's awful to say that about his nephew.

But he cares about your well-being more than Aegon's happiness.

And it really shows during the war.

[thewritetofreespeech]

In the Dark

pairing: Aemond x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: one night, while coming back from the Street of Silk, Aemond runs into an all too familiar figure in the dark. request from @brideofcthulhu10

tags: married reader, targaryen incest, tw: knives, tw: mentions of potential SA

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

The Street of Silk was never quiet, but they were usually a bit more subdued this time of night. Aemond had planned for it this way.

Leaving the comfort of the palace to find comfort somewhere else, the prince always snuck out under the cover of darkness and returned just the same. No one the wiser. No one able to catch him and mock that he would be out here with whores instead of in bed with his wife. No one able to know what he was really doing here….

The prince adjusted his cloak to pull around him to make his way back to the secret tunnels of the castle. He rounded the corner and paused as he caught a glimpse of another figure in the streets. Not unusual, but not the usual sort either. Aemond’s good eye scanned the potential witness and noticed that their cloak was made of much finer material than any other in Flea Bottom. Too nice for peasants, though it clearly made efforts to seem plain.

Aemond growled through his teeth as he realized who it was. Even with the cloak, those whisps of silver hair that snuck out of the hood are a dead giveaway. Although Aemond had already memorized the gait. “What are you doing out here?” He hissed at his wife as he appeared behind her like a shadow.

You spun around fast. Wide eyed in startled fear, which quickly faded when you realized it was him. An odd feeling for Aemond, as it was usually the other way round when people realized it was him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“What are you doing out here?” He repeated, still hissing, but more from the whispering now. “What are you doing outside the castle, alone, at night, without an escort?!” His blood boiled with each new remark to his list. Aemond thought his wife clever for a time, but he would have to rethink that in this lunacy.

You glared at him. “I do not need an escort.” You insisted. “And what are you doing out here? Last you told me; you would be with Ser Cristion for the night.”

The apple of his throat bobbed, but Aemond refused to admit he gulped at the accusations of his wife. True, they were both at fault here. Sneaking out unbeknownst to their people and partner. The only difference was that Aemond’s transgression did not come with the inherited danger a young lady, alone, in the middle of the night had. Your life was not your own now, and Aemond was angry that you were being so careless with it.

“That is immaterial. You do need an escort. What if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

“I can handle myself, Aemond.” You continued to insist. Why did the Gods have to give him such an infuriating woman as a wife? “I’m not the soft petal that other women in the palace are. I’m a Targaryen.”

True, you were not as soft as the other ladies. Rhaenyra may bare bastards left & right, and Daemon may be an opportunistic lech, but they had done right by their daughter. Teaching you to not only be an adequate lady of court, but also a skilled rider, both of dragon & horse, and how to defend yourself. Targaryens were never short of enemies. It was best to be prepared. But their Targaryen jewel had not been trained in the same way Aemond had. More how to hold a knife and properly thrust when the moment came, but not actually overcome a group of attackers if swarmed.

“Targaryen’s bleed just as much as anyone, ābrazȳrys.” Aemond told her. Stepping close. You predictably take a step back away from his ire. “We are not immortal like our beasts. What would you have done if I had been another man? Two men? Twenty?”

Your back eventually hit a walk. Locked on with Aemond’s eye as you felt a swell of fear in your belly at his words. “I…I would run away.”

Aemond cruelly laughed at your answer. “You would outrun twenty men? You’re fast, byka ābrazȳrys,” he remembers the races they had when they were children, before he sprouted to his current height, “but not fast enough to outrun twenty.” He then used that impressive height of his to quell around you. His arm coming up to place his hand against the wall. Blocking one exit. “What would you do if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

There was a tense moment between you. You felt trapped. You have to force your body to stay still and not tremble. “Stop it Aemond.” You hiss as you try to push him away. He’d made his point. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But you would never admit it.

“Who's Aemond?" Your eyes flickered up to him as Aemond’s voice sounded different. Void of the subtle hints of affection he had for you, and stone cold. A blade was suddenly out from by his pocket and by your throat. “I'm just a faceless, masked man in the dark.”

Your back went straight against the wall as you tried to create as much space as possible between you, Aemond, and the knife. “S-Stop it…”

“Make me.” Was his reply. “You’re a strong, capable Targareyn, aren’t you? Make me stop.”

You realize you can’t. You’re too afraid. This was indeed Aemond, your husband who loved you, but your mind kept thinking on what if this wasn’t Aemond. What if this had been a strange man in the dark? What is this wasn’t a test but truly real? An enemy of your mother? An enemy of Aemond? Or just a man like so many in the city who pulled women into dark alleys and forced them to their needs? What if this had been real?

Aemond saw the fear welling up inside you as tears came to your eyes in panic. He put the knife away and leaned in to give you a kiss. His build softening around you as the point had been made and the ‘game’ was over. You cling to Aemond in relief. Like a life raft out to sea. Overcome with emotions you kiss your husband desperately in a manner unbecoming of commoners in an alley, much less royalty.

Aemond kissed you back with equal fervor. Never missing an opportunity to kiss you. Relief also washed over him as well, thinking on the what-ifs if he had not run into you and another man did. What could have happened to you. The prince growled possessively at the thought and ran his hands over your body to claim it from these imaginary brigands. You moaned against his lips. Breasts heaving as you pant against him while his knee slid up between your legs as he bucked against you. “Let us go home issa jorrāelagon.”

You nodded fervently. You just wanted to go home now. Be with your husband. Be in the palace walls. Be safe.

The prince released you and the two of you walked back through the cobblestone streets for the tunnels. “Why are you out here anyway, issa jorrāelagon?” He realized you had never answered him.

“Father told me once of a spot past the Iron Gate that, if you look out at it at sunrise, you can see Valyria.” Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye. What a ridiculous story. Valryia was leagues away. He’d barely come close to it on Vhagar; though in truth he would never fly near the place after what happened to Princess Aerea. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to see it.”

“Why now?” He asked. You had lived in King’s Landing on & off for most of your life. Had you wish to see ‘The Valyrian Sun’ (yes, he knew what she was talking about) you could have done so at any time before. Why now, alone, when such danger was about for them?

“In times of trouble, I look to the Old Gods more, like your mother looks to the Seven.” Daemon’s influence, no doubt. Or perhaps it was just her own. Aemond parroted the phrases and did the prayers when asked by his mother, but he would not truly say he was bound to one set or the other. “I thought it might bring me some clarity on things. Some answers.”

“Answers on what?” You don’t answer, which made Aemond suspicious, but he doesn’t pry further. “Why didn’t you just ask me to come with you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t go if I told you it was something my father taught me.”

He frowned. Did you really think him that petty of the man that he wouldn’t go just because Daemon Targaryen taught of it first. “Come. This way.”

You do not have time to react as Aemond took your hand and pulled you down a different alley. “Where are we going?”

“The proper way.” He told you. “You were headed for the Dragon’s Gate. Yet another reason why you need an escort.” You frown at Aemond’s slight but follow after him.

The two of you meet the ‘Valyrian Sun’ together. There is no cast of Old Valyrian in the sun beams, nor any of the answers you seek. But when you turn to look at Aemond amongst the sunrise, you feel some kind of peace. Some kind of answers. “Let’s go home.”

[storiesoflilies]

a touch of salt, a taste of flesh

synopsis: in which toji cannot decide whether or not he wants to eat or love the pretty little human he saved from drowning. w.c: 2k.

pairing: merman!toji fushiguro x f!reader.

warnings: mature themes! mentions of gore and blood, mentions of drowning, open ending. sfw but MDNI!

a/n: if you saw me post this yesterday no you didn’t. please don’t let the fic flop this time lol. heavily inspired by this delicious art!

divider / ao3

the ocean loved to keep her secrets.

she coveted every single one of them, for each was a precious pearl of knowledge about her soul. to know even a single one was to be doomed to a life of fear, to be at the mercy of her passing whims, because you could never tell when she would decide to punish you for it and bash you into pieces.

she didn’t think she knew anything at all about the ocean.

but here she was, coughing up salty secrets trapped deep within her lungs.

again.

while a pair of green eyes watched her.

they were always watching her.

“why do you continue to tempt the sea?” he purred, a slight smirk touching his lips. “little human”

little human.

because that is what she was, and what he most certainly wasn't.

it was in the way he smiled at her – cold and dark and cruel as the smothering sea that had tried snuff her out, curling around her throat like tendrils of seaweed.

a dark, shark-like tail rose from the sea as the creature tilted his head, wet strands of his black hair dripping to the side. he winced every time she coughed some more, as if it were far too loud for his liking, and looked down at her like she was a grain of sand stuck between his scales.

she probably was nothing.

especially not to something like him.

“do you really need to know what it’s like when death creeps up on you?” he continued, dismissively waving a clawed, scaly hand at her. “i could always just tell you how it feels.”

she sucked in a shaky, pathetic heaving breath of sea air into her chest, still gasping and sputtering onto the white-washed sand. the coarse grains scratched her palms painfully, and she tried to calm herself, breathing in and out with the rise and fall of the tide.

his eyes narrowed playfully, thin slits of green in the night. “there, there. you’ll be just fine.”

she didn’t feel like she would be.

there was nothing comforting about him at all.

he was a predator.

his teeth were just that little bit longer than they should be – sharper, pearlescent, and flashing dangerously in the silver moonlight. even though this was the third time he has saved her from succumbing to the depths of the sea, she still didn’t know why he had saved her, or why he still continued to.

but it had to be for something.

or else, he wouldn’t have saved her the first time. he would have let her fingers disappear beneath the waves forever, let her sink to the bottom of the darkest ocean. he wouldn’t keep on watching her from the shoreline, circling round and round the island like a shark drawing ever closer to its prey.

waiting to strike, ready to bite.

“why?” was all she could muster in a hoarse voice, sand tickling her throat.

“why?” he repeated, that saccharine smirk playing on his lips again. “why what, little human?”

“why do you keep on singing?”

the green slits widened a fraction, and he started to laugh. her heart hammered against her chest, and she was afraid she might have said the wrong thing.

“is that what you would call it?” he asked incredulously, a sprinkle of offense creeping into his voice. “singing?”

she gulped.

what else would she call it?

that was what it sounded like to her. she would sit beneath a gnarled tree at the cliffs’ edge, where the earth dipped sharply towards the sea, its rocky face curled over the sea like an old man’s wrinkly hand. there, she would listen, trying to make sense of the strange words wafting from his tongue in the salty breeze.

she would’ve started a war for him.

would have shoved her arms into the bodies of the bent and broken, rummage through all their bones to offer him their still-warm, unbeating hearts.

but there was something in his haunting baritone that made her want to cry, to surrender to the sea, naively believing she could somehow help save him from his own restlessness. to block out the echoing memories that, in that moment, were blurred together and she wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or her.

there had to be some kind of magic involved.

because tonight was the third time she had heard his haunting song.

and the third time she had mindlessly wandered into the arms of the ocean and her false welcome, full of promises she had no intention of keeping.

despite knowing full well that she couldn’t even swim.

his laughter died with the wind, a low, lilting hum lingering at the edge of his words. “maybe you shouldn’t be listening so closely,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with something that looked like hunger. “the sea doesn’t sing for humans.”

he drifted a touch closer to where she was lying, slicing through the shallow water like a blade. she sat up straight, digging her heels into the sand to scramble away from him.

“and yet, here you are,” he said, amusement curling his lips. “again.”

she licked the salt from the cracks in her lips, stuttering, “i-i don’t k-know why.”

maybe it was her obvious helplessness, or perhaps he could smell her hopeless desperation like rotting flesh, but his eyes softened.

“it’s the call for my…” he trailed off, smacking his lips as he searched for the word. “heart.”

he said the it disdainfully, like he didn’t really want to believe he had a heart at all. she couldn’t imagine that he had one either, or that it wanted for anything beyond his most base desires.

flesh and blood.

“your heart?” she repeated in disbelief.

he glowered at her, his tail flicking through the water in annoyance. “yes,” he said, adding much more quietly. “and it seems i’ve found it.”

run away, now.

“w-what?” she sputtered, salt-coated sand flying to the back of her throat.

the creature grinned widely, mischievous fangs glinting, “oh, you know, little human.”

she did know; she just didn’t want to admit it.

“i-i never– i don’t understand.”

“no? then why do you keep trying to swim to me?”

she didn’t know what to say to that.

it was silent for a long time, the sweeping sea moving backwards and forwards like the ebb of time between them. she could see more of him too, even though she knew better than to look.

and he was beautiful.

his tail was longer than she thought, silky smooth and gray like a shark’s was, marred with pink scars and rakes as deep and painful as the ocean. it curled high above his head as he lay belly down in the sand.

oh, but his eyes.

they were a chest of shimmering emeralds, locked onto her every minuscule movement. but his pupils were infinite, a black hole of mysteries and knowledge of ancients city that had come and gone, of seas of blood and red misery.

yet, he was here, on this unremarkable beach at the edge of the world, calling for his heart – for her.

and she’d somehow answered.

“what’s your name?” she blurted out.

there was a strange rumble in his chest before he replied with, “toji.”

toji.

it reminded her of the cold kiss of winter, the inevitable conquest of snow over the trees and blooms, covering everything in its white death. he belonged to the ice-covered seas of the north and south, definitely not from places where the sun and joy pierced through the waves.

there was no doubt that toji was king of those icy seas, reigning supreme over the darkness found within the kelp forests of the deep trenches.

“how old are you?”

toji tilted his head curiously, completely silent as he pondered and searched for an answer.

“how long have humans sailed the seas?”

how very lonely.

she knew she shouldn’t feel anything for toji, least of all feel sorry for him. but here she was, itching for him to take her hand and drag her into the depths he called home. maybe that was what his song meant; perhaps all he wanted was someone to share in ruling over the ice and sea.

how ironic that she couldn’t even swim.

he drummed his sharp fingers against a closed fist, slow and irritatingly suspenseful. “you’re bleeding, you know?”

she frowned and looked down at both sides of her palms, between her pruned fingers, and then further down.

oh.

there was a small stream of blood beneath her left foot, trailing toward the sea before being swept away with the tide.

straight towards toji.

that was when she saw the dangerous twitch dancing on his scarred lip, and she realized just how long he had been holding back for.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly, and she truly meant it.

toji’s eyes narrowed again, but there was a spark of anger in them this time. “don’t apologize,” he hissed. “never– not for that.”

for that, for bleeding.

would a shark thank her for covering up a wound?

she didn’t think so.

toji asked for her name, and she offered it freely, willingly. he repeated it loudly, the deep baritone of his voice starting to sing her name in an increasingly agitated-sounding tone.

mine, mine, mine.

her name wasn’t her own anymore.

he was looking at her now, like he wanted to slice open her chest, pull out her heart, and play with the strings that made it beat. to shove his fingers into her aorta to say that he had been really inside her – his – heart.

mine, mine, mine.

and then, his cold hand was gripping her ankle, claws lightly digging into her skin.

she let out a yelp as toji dragged her toward him, the sea rushing over her cheeks and into her ears. he was on top of her, the wetness of the sea bleeding into her, his weight heavy and suffocating, pushing every bit of air out of her fragile lungs. his fingers dug deep into her thighs, just about to pierce through the plush skin.

she beat against the hardness of his chest, “t- cough! toji, please, stop.”

but he wasn’t really there, caught somewhere between the whispering blood ocean and the misty memories haunting his soul.

a pearly tear slipped down his cheek.

“i ca-ah! can’t breath.”

the same deep sound rumbled from his chest, and toji lifted himself up from her ever so slightly. she sucked in great gasping breaths, her eyes teary and blurry as she looked at him through lashes laden with salt.

another milky tear fell from his left eye and dripped down onto the curve of her cheek.

“would you slip away?” toji whispered, his voice rolling over her like the tide, but he sounded far, far away. “into the sea, for me.”

she didn’t want to.

but then he started to hum low and sweet, his wet lips pressed to her neck, and she was ready to.

she could see through the mist and blood now, far above the clouds and the sky and the sun breaking through the horizon. her heart was burning with salt and secrets – secrets she didn’t know she possessed.

until now.

that she was one with the sea, and maybe always had been. so, she didn’t mind all that toji was slowly pulling her towards the depths instead of away from them.

a flash of brilliant green lit up the sky.

was it toji’s eyes or a farewell from the sorrowful sun?

she didn’t know; she didn’t care anymore.

she was his to keep now.

ི♡࿐

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

get off the floor, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You order Jeon Jungkook to get off the floor. He says, "Make me." You make him. Eventually.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; tipsy, bratty (needy) JK; wedding guests reader and JK hooking up in a random corner room bc they can no longer contain themselves, gasp; semi-public smut (fem dom!reader + sub!JK, JK becomes half-undressed while reader is still fully dressed, slight degrading talk (not really), heavy making out, dry humping) basically, I was staring at this photo and had thoughts

--

“Get off the floor.”

“Make me.”

Once again. No stranger to this supreme annoyance, and yet knowing that did not make it bearable. You looked down at him. Was he drunk? He stared off to the side. Looked moodier than anything. Trying to play it cool, perhaps. You caught him glancing and you stepped back, smoothing the high slit of your deep purple evening gown.

“That suit costs way too much to be on the ground,” you attempted again, his black blazer over your bare shoulders.

Jeon Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t care.”

You could feel your patience running thin. Not new, just like all of Jungkook’s antics. You felt his eyes travel up from your legs to your waist to your chest. When he got to your face, you gave him an unimpressed frown. If he hadn’t been drinking, he would have the good sense to look away. But he had, so he just ticked his head as if he wasn’t laying down in the middle of a random offshoot room in a very nice hotel. There was no one around. Time of night and because this wing had been rented for the wedding that was still going on in the main ballroom.

“You’re going to get in trouble,” you warned.

His dark eyes caught the low lights of the art deco sconces on the walls.

“Get on top of me.”

This was precisely why you had considered skipping this wedding. But, alas, common sense pulled through. You had not come with a plus one because you didn’t have one. Jungkook had not arrived with a plus one either even though you were quite sure he could have secured one. He was probably thinking the same of you as well. The look on his face when you strode in and greeted the couple was enough to encourage some of the guests to mysteriously begin herding you and him in close proximity. You couldn’t blame them. Playing matchmaker was bound to happen if a woman attended such a social event alone.

You just didn’t think the lucky man would be Jeon Jungkook.

You narrowed your eyes. His eyes lowered to half-moons. His lips parting. The two silver rings gleamed on the right edge of his lower lip.

“Don’t play this game.”

The tip of his pink tongue flitted against his lip rings.

“I’ve been wanting to play your game for a while now,” Jungkook breathed, his low voice vibrating in his chest.

You could still hear the bass of the music. One step. The heel of your pumps clicked loudly against the tile floor. His black three-piece suit had been perfectly tailored to him. There was no need for additional shape because his body lines were already ideal. His black hair had been carefully slicked back. Nothing to hide behind. Another step. His black vest and crisp white shirt were tight enough to his chest that you could witness the way his breath hitch lifted his upper torso. You looked down, then pointedly back up at his face, reminding him that his tight slacks made everything obvious.

He bit the side of his lip.

With a casual lift of your slinky skirt, you stepped over him, and then re-draped the dark violet fabric over his lower torso. One foot on each side of his hips. He must have expected you to refuse, as you already had many times before. He immediately froze, his startled eyes widening. In your defense, he had previously been more subtle and annoying about it rather than direct. You reached up, maintaining eye contact with Jungkook, and twisted your wrist, hooking two fingers on the collar of his blazer around your shoulders, pulling it away from your body to reveal skin.

You dropped it on the floor, away from your bodies.

The fitted gown had a soft sweetheart neckline with thin straps that framed your collarbones. A simple white gold chain necklace with a tiny round-cut diamond nestled at the base of your neck. The straps crossed over to your exposed lower back. The medium-weight fabric was tailored to skim over your curves. Princess seams accentuated your shape from chest to hips before opening up to wispy high slits that were only obvious when you walked or stood with more weight to one side. Demure if you stood straight, which you mostly did. Wasn’t your wedding after all. Your hair was down, smoothed down at the right, covering enough of your back to uphold the illusion of modesty. Unfortunately, as night approached, you had found yourself quite cold. The air conditioning had been turned high to accommodate for all the dancing bodies.

That wasn’t the trajectory of the night for you, though.

Instead of the dance floor, you and Jeon Jungkook were now somehow in deserted offshoot room with chairs on tables. Probably reserved for additional seating just in case any additional guests tried to squeeze in at the last minute. Certainly not reserved for a raunchy rendezvous.

You lifted an eyebrow.

“Scared?” you taunted, looking down at him.

His wrists were against the floor by his shoulders. You saw his fingers twitch, but he did nothing to move further.

“Ravage me already,” Jungkook exhaled. Hot and heavy and hiding desperation. “I can’t take this.”

You had been well-acquainted with him and a while now. You ran the tip of your pointed heel against his side. Jungkook shuddered. He didn’t move to touch you. You backed off. The real problem with all this was not the friendly terms you both had, but rather the fact that he had caught you in a rather dubious place some nights ago. Neither you nor him should have been there. In fact, you made it a point to travel far enough so you wouldn’t run into anyone, which you presumed was also the exact reason Jungkook ended up in the same place.

You squatted down, tilting your head at him in a predatory way.

The skirt of your dress pooled over his abdomen.

As you came close to Jungkook’s level, you heard his breathing shallow.

You took a short moment to collect your dress accordingly before dropping to one knee. And then the other. Straddling him, but not quite touching. Your fingertips touched the ground. He smelled like faint musky spice. You lowered over him, until your hands were just under his upper arms.

Looked down.

Jungkook stared at you from below, trapped in your shadow.

“You really did see me at the BDSM club that night,” you murmured. “Didn’t you?”

You raised your right hand and closed it around his left wrist, pinning it to the ground. He sucked in a tight breath, the gravity of the situation seemingly sinking in although it didn’t seem like he was rushing to stop you.

“Your ass looked so fucking good,” he whispered in the dark. “I knew it was you.”

You bent your left elbow, descending to his face.

“Someone will find us.”

At your reminder, he bit his lower lip in that fuck-me-harder kind of way. Then you felt movement. His right hand snaked between you and him. Your eyes flickered down. His dress shirt was fastened all the way to his neck. He looked sharp. Conventionally handsome. The only things he couldn’t hide was his facial piercings and the tattoos on his hand. Hand tattoos were a big faux pas to most. You liked a rule-breaker though. Unfortunately. Jungkook’s deft fingers traced the pressed collar of his shirt.

You watched him undo the first pearlescent button.

Then the second.

Your lips parted to warn him to stop, but the third was already coming undone and you could hear the desire in his erratic breath drifting upwards. Then it was eyes-to-eyes, devouring you with false innocence, and you opened your mouth to trace your lips with the tip of your tongue, taunting him with the glistening void.

“Fuck…” he whispered, trembling under you.

And then you stopped his hand by fully pressing your body against his chest, your clothed breasts against his naked pecs. Flitted your tongue over his lip rings, tasting his moan before hearing it. He turned his head, trying to chase it, but you feathered kisses over his cheek, gripping his left wrist as you licked his ear, hearing the whine of your name tickling yours.

“P-Please…”

You avoided him that night at that club, hoping he hadn’t recognized you, causing every subsequent interaction making it painfully clear to you that he had indeed seen you strutting your stuff in black latex while teasing strangers with your leather crop. Surprisingly, not in the way of trying to use such information against you, which was what you expected, but rather in the way the tempted drive the tempters insane. In imploring looks that only you could know. In too many chances of being too close in proximity. You don’t know how he did it, but now for some reason everyone was delicately suggesting to you to, perhaps, give him a chance. It only strengthened your want to teach him a lesson. You savored the rising panic in his voice as you bit the curve of his ear and toyed with him with your tongue. His trapped hand turned and you felt his palm mold to your lower ribs, sliding up. You bit down. He gasped, biting back a moan as his fingertips ghosted the curve of your breasts.

“Ah…. D-Don’t…” Whimper so close to his heart that only you could hear it. “My e-ear is… is sensitive, a-ah…”

You smiled, pressing your lips to his earlobe. His earrings were warming from your breath and saliva.

“Is that why you have so many piercings, huh?”

You made sure he could feel your lips move as you purred filthy nothings.

“What a pain slut you are.”

This time he truly moaned, his hips rising, and then abruptly cut himself off to avoid rising volume.

“D-Don’t…”

You sank down. Pressed against him, and even though the layers you could feel his erection throb, his entire body shivering when your weight dispersed over his lower body. His fingertips traced the dip in between your breasts. Your tongue circled over his ear once more before kissing up to his temple, the fingers of your other hand creeping up the side of his neck, and then you made out with Jeon Jungkook, right there on the floor with his groan vibrating the inside of your throat as you slowly thrusted your tongue into his lips. He did his best to suck and you always pulled away at the last second, using one finger to trace the muscle of his neck down to his collarbones.

You broke the kiss.

His lips were glossy and flushed.

“Please… Don’t stop,” he begged, squeezing your breast. “Don’t stop…”

The inaudible music continued to hum in the background.

You placed two fingers on his chin and pushed his head back, giving you access to his throat. For a brief moment, you considered making your mark, but instead you trailed your tongue down, down, painting possessive saliva onto his warm skin. His body rose. You let go of his wrist to pull open the sides of his shirt, realizing he was undoing his vest at the same time as his chest became fully exposed to the air, his dark nipples hard. You flicked your tongue against them, an involuntary ripple seizing his torso at the heated contact. Licked all over, enjoying the scent and taste of his skin. He silenced a cry as you bit down.

“H-Harder…”

You rose slightly, grazing your tongue against his skin before doing so.

“Be quiet.”

And then you roughly pinched his other nipple.

His arm flew up and he screamed behind clenched jaw, his hips lifting from the floor and his erection colliding with the inside of your thigh. You let out a light hum, sliding up his hard thighs. Your dress was already bunching around your waist. With a sweep of your skirt, your barely-there panties came into view. His attentive eyes immediately went down to the matching skin-toned thong barely covering your pussy, tricking him for just a moment, and then you saw the disappointment flutter into a slight frown.

“Did you expect me to be naked?” you mused.

He tried to cover himself with indifference. “No.” His needy gaze and raging boner gave him away.

You smiled.

And held the front of your skirt out of the way, rocking your hips forward to rub your panties against his clothed cock. Jungkook gasped, staring back at your relaxed expression with wide eyes, unsure where to look. You put a little more force into it, increasing the friction and molding his hardness to the soft dip between your legs, and you saw his eyelids flutter, his dark eyes rolling back, a contained moan escaping his chest.

You talked down to him, because you could tell he liked it.

“You thought I wouldn’t have panties and I would just ride you in a public place with no remorse or shame?”

Tension began to show through his muscles. He had one arm on his forehead and the other against the black-and-white tile floor, using subtle leverage to grind against you. He wasn’t obstructing his vision though, still very obviously staring at your thighs, the dip towards your pussy, watching the hem of your panties press into your skin with each movement.

“I… oh, fuck, I don’t k-know…” He panted, his shadowed eyes roaming back to your face. “Maybe.”

You laid your free hand on the waistband of his slacks, tracing his belt. You watched him hold his breath, his chest tight and oh-so-delectable. Slowly, you hooked your fingers under his belt. Gripped it, and changed the angle of your thrusting so that the head of his cock was rubbing against the radiating heat of your pussy, giving him a better view of your thin panties digging into your slit.

You saw his teeth sink into his lower lip.

“F-Fuck…”

His eyes slid shut and he moaned your name, sensual and deep and far too practiced for it to be a closed secret, his hips pushing back up against you, trying to get more and unable to do so. Frustration. Need. Craving. All bleeding into his expression. Against better judgement, you could feel it too, the irresistible pull of barely enough, the desire to tease turning into wetness between your legs, slowly but surely perfuming the air with your sweet, musky arousal.

Jungkook opened his eyes and stared up at you, imploring softly.

“P-Please…”

His arm lifted from his forehead and his other hand raised, fingertips stroking your thighs while using his shoulder blades for leverage. Forceful and precise. You let go of his belt and traced the knuckles of one of his hands, feeling the restrained strength in his touch. He sank his fingers into your thighs, gasping, pressing the back of his head onto the floor and arching his back. His open shirt. His exposed muscular chest. His tan skin faintly glistening with sweat. His throat begging for a bite.

You raked your nails down his abs, forcing Jungkook to lustfully grown to the ceiling.

You smirked.

“Get up.”

With minimal effort, Jungkook lifted his torso off the ground, frowning at you for asking him to be reasonable. His palms pressed into your thighs, ensuring that you continued to straddle him even though you had no intention of moving. In fact, you drew your knees together, pinning him in between your thighs. A few black strands had dislodged from their places and draped over his furrowed brows.

“Was that so difficult?” you murmured with lowered lashes, walking your nails up his chest.

His hands were sliding up towards your hips under your skirt. “Yeah.” He squeezed your ass with his strong grip while staring into your eyes. “I’ve been wanting to get you out of this dress for hours.”

“Hm.”

You gave him an unimpressed look as you felt his fingertips glide down. He pulled outwards ever-so-slightly. From below, out of sight, your pussy lips parted with a wet sucking sound.

Jungkook moaned against your cheek, pressing his naked chest against your clothed breasts.

“Come on… Please…”

You hand had migrated to his side, steadily scratching his lower back.

“Very reckless and dangerous of you.”

He glanced at you with those half-moon eyes filled with stars of longing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me to be,” Jungkook whispered hotly. “Brushing up against me by accident when I already told you that you look too damn hot. Teasing me every time I look down by showing off your legs even more.” His mouth brushed against the side of yours. You could faintly feel his lip rings. “You’re mean.”

You sat on top of his still-hard cock and purred, “I don’t recall doing such things,” before lightly bouncing on top of it.

He gasped and you sucked away his exhale, pulling back before he could kiss you.

“Let me,” he breathed out.

His hands came up to cradle your back as you arched your spine and then you sighed out, his soft kisses fanning over your décolletage, tucking his tongue between your breasts and licking upwards, his eyelids fluttering in bliss from the taste of your perfumed skin.

“Please, let me…”

Your arms around his neck. You had not intended to fuck Jeon Jungkook tonight but, then again, that was easy to think when he hadn’t looked at you with those perfectly desperate eyes yet. Nor had he yet pushed the top of your ass down to collide with his hard dick still fighting his pants, implying just how well you would fit together. Until right now that is. You smiled, leaning back into his warmth.

“At least button your shirt so you don’t startle the hotel staff with your sexy body.”

His ears flushed bright red. You shot him an amused look as he fumbled about.

“And what if there was a camera in here, hm? Recording your depravity,” you mused, appreciating the view.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled to his chest. His ears remained red.

“I see. But if I compliment you, you become embarrassed.”

Jungkook avoided your gaze. “N-No…”

You hooked a finger under his chin and yanked him back up, confronting those big, dark brown orbs. He looked taken aback, almost afraid of what you would say next.

“I can’t wait to have you under me,” you whispered. “I’ll make you show me how talented you are at begging.”

He moaned into your mouth as you kissed him deeply, pulling him into your possessive embrace.

-

continued in get on the floor, m | jjk

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[misguidedasgardian]

GLADIATORS

CREGAN I.

MASTERLIST

Summary: You see your father’s latest acquisition in a closer way, a wild man from the North who had become one of his gladiators.  

Pairing: Slave!Gladiator!Cregan x Domina!Reader

Warnings: Ancient Rome AU, Cursing, slavery (and everything that comes with it, technically rape, forced labour, punishments), blood, guts, gladiator battles, lude language, nudity, sex and everything related is no biggie here, we’re a ‘sex positive’ Republic, mentions of sex, same sex couples, orgies, and more.

MINORS DNI + 18

Wordcount: 6,7 k

Notes: This reader is young perhaps… like 18? 20? but so is Cregan!

“Dad, he is old!”, you whined. You heard your older brother snicker by your side, as their silly wives snickered like the silly girls they were. You sighed as you popped a grape into your mouth followed closely by a piece of cheese and bread and a sip of wine. 

“He’s got money… and he is in the senate!”, he said then, signaling one of the slaves to start lighting up the oil lamps along the Triclinium, the night had fallen over King’s Landing and it was getting dark.

“I bet you could find someone who’s in the senate who’s got a wife he is willing to divorce, and he won’t die of old age before the wedding”, mocked your eldest brother, but soon got quiet as your father looked at him with severity

“Nobody should divorce their wives on my account”, you said, the notion made your stomach turn. Even though divorce was a common thing, if a man desired another, or another union would ensure more privileges, or if his woman was unfaithful or not able to give in heirs to the family, they could divorce. A woman could divorce her husband too if she had her own reasons.

You knew the dowry of your middle brother’s bride was quickly being spent on the training of the gladiators in the Ludus underneath the house, so he needed to come into some money quickly, even though he would have to pay for your dowry.

One of the greatest events of the year was coming quickly, and his Gladiators needed to be in top shape. 

“Tomorrow I want you all there, at the games of Senator Tywin”

“Have we’ve been invited to the pulvinus father?”, asked your eldest brother

“Close enough, right by it”, he said, he seemed pleased, but you had learned to read him better, there was something lurking in his eyes that betrayed a darker desire… for more power perhaps.

“I've heard that Larys Strong and therefore Alys Rivers got an invitation this year to the pulvinus, and her gladiators in the primus at sundown”, whispered Martyn

You had two oldest brothers, Alton and Martyn. 

“That Ludus stands as such because of that whore Alys Rivers”, mumbled your father

“A woman Lanista?”, you asked, “how could that be?”

“She is not, but she whispers in her half-brother's ear while he aspires to be in higher positions”, explains your father. “While his brother, first born son and heir goes around playing gladiator”

“He is a slave?”, you asked

“He volunteer himself into that life”, murmured Alton, “you had seen him fight sister, Harwin”

“Oh wow!”, you said, not really knowing what to say, but rather, sipping your wine, you did remember seeing the biggest person you had seen upon the arenas of King’s Landing’s Coliseum. 

“Anyways, Alys stands as such because she was advised many years by Daemon himself the demon of the arenas”, mumbled Martyn

“Yes, fine Daemon/Demon”, your father would repeatedly, while on his cups, tell the tale of his biggest regret, and that was not purchasing a young Daemon while he was still in training, he grew to be the greatest gladiator at the arena, so much so he won his own freedom at the games of the Vulcanalia some years ago. Daemon, as many other gladiators, came from the shadowlands of Essos, as he sported beautiful white/silver hair and violet eyes. 

You would never say this outloud, but the gladiator battles were never a thing of your interest, not really. You did not liked the bloodshed, the gutting, you had no taste for violence, and yet, there was something to admire as you saw those men fighting 

They looked like they were carved from the finest artist, they stood like they were gods above the sands. They stood as fierce representations of the god of war himself.

“Well, her reign of depravity will not last long, I heard the Northman shows great promise”, mumbled Martyn’s wife Adella 

“What about the Northman?”, Martyn asked then, you raised your head in question. Oh the Northman.

The man had your father in a lockdown, taking most of his time, money and patience. He was ‘caught wild’ in one of the last incursions of the armies of the emperor to the wild tribes of the North, hence his nickname. Purchased by your father at the slave market, and trained for the last months. With the purchase, your father was hoping to impress Tywin Lannister himself, a senator and a very wealthy man, it did not work, so far, as the man planned to visit your father’s villa upon invitation to see the Northman’s training and hopeful subjugation. So far, no luck. 

He was caught fighting, he wasn’t a stranger to it, but there was a long way from being a soldier to being a gladiator. From being… whatever he was up there, to obey command from a man that subdued you into slavery. 

But again, your father’s temper has closely returned to normal, so, you could only assume the training was becoming fruitful, even so slowly. 

“He will never be tamed”, he said curtly, “but… if we keep managing him properly, we can turn that hate of his into the arena, he shows great promise”

“Forgive me father”, you said, raising from your place in the triclinium, “I take my leave to bed”, you said with a soft smile, nodding at everyone present

“Good, I won’t have you all tired tomorrow”, he said approvingly, and you nodded, thinking for which old bat he would have you presentable tomorrow.

He was determined to get you wed before the autumn plantings at the end of the year, and he didn’t seem to care to whom as long as it brought privileges upon his house. 

It was hot, so hot, you could barely stand, you were eternally grateful to your personal slave, Anya, who stood by your side, fanning you with a soft paper fan. She leaned into you as you allowed her, to also enjoy the soft waves.

Although, they brought some stench from all the people around you.

King’s Landing, although the capital of the great republic, stood famous for its stench, having grown rapidly and unprepared for it. 

The sun cooking the viewers of the spectacle didn’t help either.

The people cheered, bringing a new wave of hodor that made you dizzy and poor Anya almost faint

“Did you see that?”, asked your elder brother to the youngest, as two gladiators fought to the death, one cutting the other’s arm. HIs screams could be heard all the way up where you stood, near the pulvinus.

You rather stare into the sun, which you did. Soon, after midday, it was going to hide behind the wooden beams supporting the canvas on top of the Arena, there you truly were going to enjoy it. being able to relish in the shadow. 

“Tywin demanded only the best this city has to offer present themselves in his games”, the comment alone made you turned your gaze upon the Arena, as people cheered again, some even pushed you in their ecstasy, to see the gladiator in shining white armor decapitate the one missing his arm

“And Cole does it again”, said Martyn. The one who had an armor so polished it was blinding was known as Cole, he stood from the Rhoynar in the south, from Dorne itself, plucked from the desert to fight in another kind of arena. 

“See her gloat”, demanded Alton, you all looked towards the Lanista herself, Alys Rivers in the pulvinus, with a smug look upon her face, she of course was the one holding the wip that trained the man in the arena.

She was of extraordinary beauty, long lustrous black hair, long to her hips, wearing a deep green stola, beautifully decorated atop a black tunic, you wondered how she did not bake wearing such dark colors. 

She was stuck to the side of her rumored half-brother, he was a.. interesting man, thin and a bit twisted, unruly hair but fine clothing adorned his weak frame. 

“People of King’s Landing…!”, presented Otto HIghtower from the pulvinus, a small but central box, where the most prominent people attending the games would sit at. He was a Senator, friend to Tywin Lannister and apparently presenter to today’s games. Maybe he was the patron of the entire occasion, your father had been paid by a HIghtower man.

But this… was far from over.

It was odd to see such a gladiator so early in the day, the sundown was reserved for the very best part of the games, the primus, between the two best and more known gladiators. 

You found yourself thinking about like four names at the time.

Harwin, Cole, Aemond, and… the Northman.

Although Harwin was disapparating from latest presentations… he still held name, but he had lost his prowess as the last time he found himself in the Arena he asked for mercy as he found himself losing, he raised his hand in the air with both index and middle finger pointing to the skies begging for mercy, and it was granted.

Against Cole himself. He got terribly injured almost a year ago, thereafter only presenting himself in fights long before midday sun.

Yes, everything you knew about gladiators and fights was learnt unwillingly. 

But the primus did not belong to your father, so the Northman was fighting early, thankfully. You might have a chance to survive this heat, by retiring back to your father’s villa early.

Although, these occasions were like the market for older unmarried men. And your father would have you giving everything to sell…  

“... I give to you, from one of the greatest Ludus of the Republic, a man, from the wild tribes North of the neck…”, your father smiled proudly as the name of the family was spoken loudly for everyone to hear. “trained to wet the sands with the blood of his enemies… I give you… CREGAN!”, people booed at his entrance, as the wild tribes of the North had been villainized by the Republic, as relentless, violent and above all, uncultured and barbaric, but you had learned to read between the lines, they were described as such because they refused to bend the knee.

The gates of the Arena opened on the west side, revealing the men ready for battle. He stood tall and broad despite his young age, his dark brown hair tied back, although hidden by a thick helmet in the shape of a wolf’s head. 

He wore nothing protecting his torso, yet a thick metal belt putting together the lower part of a tunic. He wore forearm and shin protectors, and thick leather sandals 

He had a huge sword in hand, and a shield on his other.

The sight alone took your breath away.

You had seen him only practicing, briefly, as your father did not approve of you gazing from your balcony down to the men. As they would, “get distracted”, and you didn't enjoy their eyes filled with lust either. So you refrained from doing so, but…

The mere glimpses you had gotten of the men were nothing when putting in comparison to the men upon the sand today.

In all glory, in strength, as a gladiator was the mightiest representation of a man, or that is what your father always said.

This was a rare sighting though, as he had barely been making a name for himself, this time might be the first he presents himself alone. Your father was right, taiming him was proving to be incredibly difficult, but nobody could deny that even if he presented himself a gladiator today under your father’s ludus, he was still as unruly as the first time you laid eyes upon him, as the first time you gaze down upon him, entering through the gates, kicking and screaming, hair longer than you had seen in a men, even longer than he had now. 

He fought your father’s guards and even the ones who he would call his brothers this present day.

Tywin himself called for the start of the fight, his opponent was someone of the Ludus of Larys himself, one with lesser note, his name left your ears as soon as you heard it.

But you couldn't care less, as when he started to move upon the sands, the rest of the world could crumble around you and it would not matter in the slightest.

“He stands superior in all aspects”, mumbled one of your brothers and you couldn't tell which as you were so hypnotized.

Cregan attacked first, and that was very frowned upon in the Lanistas, as the first to strike tended to have disadvantage, his opponent met him half way and the clash of gladious responded all over the coliseum. 

There were some gladiators that favored other weapons, like the spear and short shield, or the Retiarius, that were gladiators trained with a net and a trident, in a fisherman fashion. 

It sounded laughable in paper, but they were quite impressive in the arena, not this time though, both gladiators stood with a gladious, meaning a sword, and a long squared concave shield.

The fight wasn’t lengthy, the superiority of the Northman was clear since the very first movement.

Although it wasn’t less breathtaking, as each of their movements, attacks, the way they moved, and deflected, its like they were dancing, dancing in a mortal rhythm 

The crowd cheered for them, and even though they were not on the Northman’s side, suddenly, they shifted as it became clear that he was the better fighter. 

Although you did not enjoy the games, there was this moment, this exact moment in which you felt like your heart was in your throat and you could tear your eyes apart from the fight. The moment where you really cared about who won, about who survived. The Northman, even thought it was the 

But it was brief, first Cregan drew blood on the arm of his opponent, and then, after a quick movement, the man was dead, dropped in a growing pool of blood on the floor. 

The magic was gone, and the crowd erupted in cheers, applauding, screaming his name, although there were those disappointed because of the outcome.

“He will be the champion of our house!”, said Alton, “mark my words!”, he said, as your two brothers hugged each other in happiness. you turned to Anya, who had a soft smile on her face, but kept fanning the both of you 

The rest of the fights happened quickly after that, the sun hiding behind the podium of the magistrates and people of importance in the city, which gave you relief as the day turned quickly, the sun moved above the sky until it hid behind the outer walls of the coliseum. 

The last fight ended quickly as well, Aemond killing his opponent in an impressive showing of strength and blood. 

Your father was called upon another man near the pulvinus, as you tried to stand your ground as people around you were quickly to leave the arena, but you managed to stand your ground, as your siblings found friends of their own to talk to. 

Your father came back to you, rubbing his hands amongst each other with a pleased look on his face

“I must attend a meeting in the magistrate’s house”, he said happily, “He spotted me in the crowd and invited me”, you smiled at him

“I’m pleased, father”, you said with a soft smile

“See yourself to the villa, with our guards and slaves, don’t wait up”, he commanded the lot of you. 

“We have been invited to the Lannisters”, mumbled Martyn, your father’s eyes again shone with interest. So he nodded towards your brother.

“I trust you’ll be well taken care of”, he said then, turning to you, he then signaled to one of his most trusted guards and even to the Doctore himself, the trainer of the gladiators.

“Yes father”, you nodded at Anya and the both of you exited the arena, followed closely by a guard. 

You turned quickly as you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, as you were int he shade of the hallways, as you turned you found yourself with your old friend from your childhood, Alysanne Blackwood

“How long haven’t we gaze upon one another?”, she said, grabbing your forearms as you did hers, she leaned in a made attempt to kiss both your cheeks as it was accustomed

“Too long”, you said with a long sigh

“We shall remedy that immediately!”, she said then, “you didn’t mind telling me your father’s Ludus was the one who owns the Northman himself?”, she tried

“Oh well, much has happened in the last couple of years”, you said shyly, smiling softly at her.

This was hardly the time, all the people were leaving the coliseum, and pushed you who were trying to stand on the sidelines. She looked at you with those deep green eyes of hers, she was so beautiful, lean and tall, with thick black hair fixed beautifully and big green eyes, her smile was contagious. 

“Well it's been too long”, she said then, as you failed to meet what she desired, “and I will wait no longer, to get reacquainted with dear friend”, she said, grabbing your hands

“My villa, its mine for the night, as my father meets with important men”, you offered, her smile was as beautiful as the rest of her

“Perfect, Jeyne Frey is also here”, she said, “we’ll go together”.

To say you were nervous was an understatement 

The night found you and your friends in the safety of the triclinium in your family’s villa, where the soft wine flowed freely and also the dining. 

“And his cock was huge!”, she said, making you gasp

“Alyssane!”, you chided, “don’t say that!”, you said, feeling your cheeks heated

“What? Cock?”, she teased, “Cock! Cock! Cock! COCK!”

“Stop it!”, you slapped her arm playfully

“I see them all the time!”, Jeyne said then, looking sheepishly, hiding her smirk in her cup of wine. 

“Only because you like to peek as your brothers have sex with slaves!”, mocked Alyssane 

“No I don’t!”, she said, but you knew she was lying. 

“I bet that Northman’s cock is huge too”, teased Alyssane, finally revealing her true intentions behind her and Jeyne’s visit to your father’s villa. You got quiet, so did Jeyne, but the expression on her face said it all, she was as intrigued as Alyssane

“I wouldn’t know, even if I saw it”, you said

“You had never seen a man naked?”, asked Alyssane, raising one of her perfect eyebrows

“No”, you said then, well… you sort of had, men, male slaves on sale on the streets, but you had refused to look long enough to draw a complete image in your mind. What you saw in a couple of seconds did not please you at all, rather… you disliked.. something so… small and wobbly. You shaked at the very memory of it.

“You had never seen any of your gladiators in such fashion?”, asked Jeyne, ready to tease and follow Alyssane’s lead.

“No I have not!”, you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you at least a bit curious?”, asked Jeyne

“Well, of course I am”, you defended

“You are to be married before the darkest of the winter months, you should at least know what you are up against”, Alyssane said simply, “and I would not deny the sight… of such a man”

“You are here just to gaze upon naked men?”, you said playfully, although, a bitter taste in your mouth, as you were feeling clearly used, and pressured.

“No, I am here to gaze upon naked gladiators”, Jeyne said then.

But another flavor joined the others, the need deep within you impress your friends, your friends from rich houses of the capital 

“Bring me the Northman”, you said to the guard that stood in the corner watching the whole reunion, he seemed terribly nervous, but nodded and left you. You shaked with the resolution in your command, and felt a pit in your stomach in anticipation.

You knew he was going to take a while, so you turned back at your friends and smiled nervously, and they seemed terribly motivated. 

“I must say”, began Jeyne, as she saw your face filled with trepidation, “that my tongue will not be kept from wagging about your hospitality to my father”, she wanted to make sure you knew there was going to be recompense for this, and good recompense. His father, as old as time, sat in the senate, she stood the daughter of a senator.

“Thank you Jeyne”, you said with a soft smile, you took a long gulp of your cup, to try and soothe your nerves. Alyssane did the same, but with a smirk on her lips, she said nothing as she studied your form. 

Finally, they both took sit position in their triclinium as you heard movement behind you. You looked back to see their trainer Roose Bolton, following closely behind the man himself. The wildling from the tribes of the North, whose name was Cregan Stark, although everyone called him… ‘The Northman’

He stood with thick shackles around both wrists. in front of him. He was wearing nothing but a clean subligaria, and his body was like one of a god, well defined and gleamed under the light of the torches, he had recently been cleaned. The sight made your mouth dry, so you took another long sip of the mulsum in your cup. He had thick brown hair that he used tied in the back of his head, and he had sharp eyes, cold as ice and the same colour. The features of his face were soft, declaring his young age, your own, perhaps. 

“Leave us”, you demanded, but the trainer Roose Bolton looked conflicted

“Domina, I don’t think…”

“I said leave us”, you said, about to lose your courage, your friends behind you giggled, weirdly giving you confidence to commit to your own command. With a grunt, the doctore nodded and left you, with only your friends, a couple of guards standing silently in the corners of the room behind veils, and him.

The Northman

He was deadly still, looking forwards, beyond you and your friends, beyond this room, his jaw was tense, you could tell that being here, summoned by you like this… for him was humiliating, but there he stood, tense like a bow. He said nothing, he didn’t move an inch.

“Is this what all northmen look like?”, Jeyne teased, “he is more beast than man”, you didn’t know if that was a real question, but your eyes never left his form, even if it wasn’t he didn’t answer.

“You can answer”, you encouraged 

“All northmen do not look like me”, he said finally, the dark tone in his voice made the three of you gasp. “some make me look like an Andal”, Jeyne and Alyssane giggled at the prospect of finding even gruffer men than him. 

“Oh he speaks the common tongue”, Alyssane was on fire, making you more uncomfortable. His eyes finally found yours, and you couldn’t take your own out of his. 

“Yes he does”, you whispered, he indeed had a beautiful set of eyes. You then looked down at his chest, there was a red line, his injury from the battle in the Arena, it was still fresh, but you could tell it was healing properly

“I think he is handsome”, mumbled Alyssane, taking foot to walk towards him, you feared his reaction, as the guard standing in the corner of the room clenched his hand around the pommel of his sword. 

But the gladiator still didn't move as Alysanne walked around him, teasing him with a single finger, touching his skin as she walked. His eyes were still on you. 

“He stands as Mars, ready for war”, she whispered

“Alyssane seems taken by the man”, teased Jeyne in your ear

It was a curious thing, this what you were feeling, like somebody wanted to take something that belonged to you, but again, he wasn’t a thing, and you didn’t own him. Not technically at least, your father did.

“Their day starts early tomorrow”, you mumbled, making Alysane stop and look back at you with a teasing smile on her face. “his training I mean”, you said then

“Of course”, she said, you signaled the poor shaking guard and he grabbed Cregan, and took him from your side. You could swear you saw lingering eyes from him to you, but you must have imagined it.

“You should… enjoy him while you can”, said Jeyne finally, once you found yourselves alone again

“What do you mean?”, you asked her, her and Alyssane shared complicit looks

“Well, obviously, before you take an old bat as a husband, you should enjoy one of his gladiators, like that Northman for example”

“No…”, you said quickly, “I couldn’t possibly do something like that”

“Why not?”, asked Alyssane

“He is a man trained as a gladiator!”, you said, “he is a bit dirty…”, you tried, not quite convinced 

“You have him bathed and oiled before you”, said Alyssane like it was no issue 

“What if he doesn't want to?”, you tried then

“He is a slave, under your command…”, said Jeyne, “...and a man”

“What if he decided to kill me instead?”, you said then, “wrap his hands around my neck”

“I will not shame you is that is to your pleasure”, giggled Alyssane

“Aly!”, you whined, “the point is I really couldn’t, I mean, he is big and thick… and wild looking”

“Delicious then”, she offered

“Dangerous…”, you continued, although you felt your cheeks heated. 

“Well if you don't have him, maybe I could!”, she teased

“What are you talking about?!”, you asked, scandalized, “when have you heard that proper Andal women lay with their gladiators?”

“Oh I’ve heard a ludus where such things happen quite frequently”, she teased

“Where?”, you asked

“In Alys Rivers’ ludus!”, your eyes opened wide in shock

“Really?”, you asked, “the bastard sister of the Lanista Larys Strong?”, you asked 

“They say she offers her gladiators in… other manners”, she said, winking at you, “perhaps we should find ourselves at her door?”, she asked Jeyne

“Perhaps we shall”, she said back. 

“Don’t be mean!”, you teased back, she laughed, as she was clearly jesting, you hoped.

“The hour is late”, said Jeyne with a soft smile, “I should start my journey back to my villa before my father starts a search party”, she said, raising from her chair

“Yes! me as well!”, said Alyssane, “I hope I can meet you tomorrow at the market?”, she asked you, you smiled and nodded profusely, as you accompanied them to the atrium, and therefore the door

As you watched them leave, nervousness started to take a hold on you, as did the warmth of the wine consumed to hide your embarrassment 

It was not common to find yourself alone in your villa, your father had allowed it because you were in company of friends -who had influential fathers-, but now there you stood, no brothers, or sisters in law, father or friends to loom over you.

Your lower belly burned with necessity, with something you have never felt before, a longing, your body burned with anticipation and excitement. You didn’t know if it was the mulsum you had drank, or the power you just discovered, all the whole thing combined.

“Bring the Northman up here”, you said to the first guard you saw, he nodded and went to comply with your command. Your body was tingly because of the alcohol and you were excited to say the least, you didn’t even care that you had already sent the poor man down mere minutes ago, tonight, you had the power.

You shakily served yourself some more wine, back in the safety of the triclinium, the room where you ate, met with friends and family, where you were most comfortable. The man was standing right in front of you in minutes, the guards nodded at you and then left you as they had done before.

The gladiator stood there, now he seemed more surprised than before, as he found you alone, and he also seemed to be showing more of his emotions on his face.

“Northman”, you called, he turned to you quickly, anger in his eyes

“That’s not my name!”, it took you by surprise, you couldn’t deny it, the anger in his eyes, the sharpness in his tone. 

“What is your name?”, it was of no consequence to you, his domina, and you should express so, that it did not matter anymore what his real name was, but, there you were, asking him nonetheless

“My parents named me Cregan”, he said, “of House Stark”, he said sharply, “as many leaders of my house before me”

There was so much more you wanted to ask, as his words truly shocked you, but as you gazed down the street you came to your senses, realizing that you should not allow such things. As your father tended to say, “who were you before this Ludus does not matter, the only thing in your mind should be sand, and the blood of your enemies”

“That is not what you are here for”, you finally find your voice, minimizing his anger at hand, turning his attention somewhere else.

“Remove your subligaria”, you whispered the command as if you did not wish it, and his sharp eyes were trained on you

“Look at you, a little domina in the making”, he teased, his tone much changed since he let you know of his true name. The very words made your cheeks heated, and you found yourself averting his gaze, his did not stray from your face as he released himself from the only item of clothing he was wearing. Your eyes followed the trail of his perfect skin, down his toned chest to his belly and…

The sight alone made you gasp. 

This looked nothing like the ones of the male slaves in the market, if anything, those were… flacid and small, that sight brought you disgust and uneasiness, this one however, made your mouth dry and your skin tingle with desire. Desire that was pooling in your lower belly.

“You can touch me”, he said, he was being amused at your expense, only making you even more nervous, “I will not bite… much”, your hand was placed on his belly, muscles showing in beautiful shapes, you couldn't believe something could be hard but soft at the same time.

As your hand lowered, you found thick dark hairs there, making you shudder 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”, he whispered, so close to your face your hand stopped right before getting to his base and you looked up at him.

“I’m the daughter of your dominus”, you said, as you believed he was forced to praise you.

“Do you think that’s got something to do with what I just said?”, he asked. Your hand stopped right as the base of his cock, you shuddered, his manhood was terribly hot. 

You had never spoken to this man before today, you had barely glanced at him, and now, here he stood, under your command, looking at you with his sharp eyes, not missing a thing. 

“I’m sorry, this was a bad idea…”, you whined retrieving your hands like his skin burned you. Cregan grunted when your soft hands left his cock, and that only made you burn more heatedly

“And you are going to leave me hanging like this?”, he asked, amused, mocking you, but inside he was suffering, he was enjoying it too much, it has been so long without a woman’s touch, “you can’t do that!”

“My apologies”, you said quickly, leaving him there standing 

His doctore came to collect him, he retrieved his cloth from the ground, putting it in place

“A little tease that one”, he mumbled to the serious man

“Do not speak of domina in that way”, he growled as he pushed him 

“There is not much domina in her”, he chuckled

“That’s it, five lashes in the courtyard”, he said

“I’d think better of it doctore”, he said defiantly, taking advantage of the fact that only the two of them were present in the narrow passage that separated the villa from the training grounds of the Slaves, “the Vulcanalia is merely a fortnight away from now, and they have high hopes for me”

“Keep walking boy”, Roose Bolton threatened.

He led him downstairs and then through the big gate that separated the villa from the ludus, where the gladiators lived and trained. A guard locked it tight after they passed through it

“I advise you to keep what happened to yourself”, he said gloomly, Cregan looked back at his doctore, but nodded.

He was directed straight to a long open room, where the gladiators ate lunch and dinner. He directed himself to the cook, who gave him a clay pot with a white mush in it, just like the day before, and the night before that. 

“Here comes the whore!”, someone shouted at him, as his “brothers” started mocking him and winking at him.

It didn’t take much to guess what happened in the villa, there was only one reason you get called upon at such hours, and wearing so little

“Shut the hell up Ben”, he mumbled to his only friend he had in the Ludus, he haden’t say anything, but he was grinning at him like an idiot.

“Was it her?”, he asked him, “the daughter? the domina?”

“Yes”, he said, his friend pushed him playfully

“Did you fuck her?”, Cregan just looked at him angrily

“No”

“Was she not pleased with you then?”. he asked, frowning

“She is young, she doesn’t know what she wants”, he said simply, really not wanting to share what had happened upstairs.

It was humiliating, to say the least, to be treated like that. To be called upon to be gazed at by women who looked at him like a piece of meat, and then again to be touched.

Oh but he meant every word

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, since the first time he saw you, standing on that balcony, looking down at him. He did not blame you for your father, for the blood that ran through your veins, for the republic that created you. You had nothing to do with any of it.

Just by looking at you he could tell the kind soul that moved your body and warmed your heart

But you were the daughter of the man who purchased him, he wasn’t the one who enslaved him, but it was the man that had condemned him to the life of a gladiator. 

“Well, maybe you can change her mind”, he teased

The only reason he was playing along with the Andals was to see how to escape them, so far, it had been easy to stay alive, he had been trained since he could pick up a sword on how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive, the North was not a place for the weak

“Father?”, you called out loud, the servants all dropped their eyes as you passed them by looking for him, but you couldn’t find him in his study, so you were on your way to his room at the other side of the villa

“What’s this ruckus?”, he asked, looking at you with sharp eyes as he went to encounter you in the atrium

“My good friend Alyssane has summoned me to go to the market at noon”, you knew he wouldn’t refuse you, not if Alyssane was involved, so he just sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You went back to his study, passing all the statues decorating the atrium. A normal Andal family would display in honor effigies of their most prominent family members, but yours displayed the most prominent gladiators and fighters that had come from this ludus.

“Here”, he passed you a small punch filled with gold coins

“Thank you father”, you said, offering a complacent smile

“Take one of my men with you”, he said then, “one of the gladiators”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, a servant and a guard would do just fine”, you said quickly, always as you were in the market you wanted to pass by as inconspicuous as you could. 

“I insist, after the games, and before the Vulcanalia, I want the people to see them, to get excited, take the Northman”, you hid your face before your father could see the embarrassment in it. 

One of the guards of the villa went to fulfill his request, and you sighed in exasperation. 

You came back to your rooms to get ready to go out, and once you were, you returned to the entrance of the house, where Cregan himself was waiting for you with a severe look on his face, this was not to his liking, he was standing right by a guard, and by Roose Bolton. 

The sight alone made you tremble

Had he told anybody what happened the day before? that you had touched him and presumed to have him?

Once his eyes found yours, he smirked. 

“If something befalls the daughter of your dominus, fate worse than death awaits you boy”, he said in his ear

“Rest assured, that I will look after her with my life”, he said with a silly little smile.

You took a long sigh, and nodded to the guards and started walking out of the villa.

The villa stood on top of a hill, you had a pretty nice view upon the city of King’s Landing, but the rest of it wasn't quite impressive, the road was made of dirt and the houses around it were less impressive than the one your father had inherited from his father. It had been in your family since the very creation of the city.

You led a small comitive, all on foot, as you bluntly refused to be carried in a cot. You, your faithful slave Anya, Cregan himself, being flanked by two guards.

The center of the city started right at the foot of the hill, so it was a short minute walk.

You reach a street made of cobblestone, one adjacent to the one that led to the main street, as it was time before you had to meet Alyssane, you started to look the small stores

“Did your father hear of the way you handled me last night?”, Cregan whispered as Anya was tending elsewhere, you look back sharply at the Northman.

“No, and he shall not!”, you said sharply

“Oh well, I guess if he had, he’d have me castrated”, he whispered for your ears only, “and I guess you don’t want that as it seems you like what you saw”, he teased

“Stop it”, you said back. Your father was a practical man, and if he had heard of what occurred last night, you would be the one at fault, as everyone involved was just following your command. “My father will never know of this”, you sentenced 

“You wanted to lay with me? A gladiator? a slave?”, he asked then

“I was mistaken”, you said, trying to gaze upon what a man was cooking on his store towards the street, it smelled delicious 

“You are mistaken”, you heard him claim, his thick accent made your thighs, “for seeking bedding before connecting, to seek sex, instead of love, to want lust before you even began to feel the fondness”, he said sincerely.

“Thinking love is something within the grasp of someone in my position is foolish, and I learned not to be blinded and distracted by foolish things”, you whispered sadly. You nodded at the man and exchanged a couple of aerus for a plate of lamb soup. “I’ll be married before the year is over”, you whispered. 

[simplygojo]

The Witch's Surrender

Authors Note: Here is my entry for a fun collab event, Monster Mash, hosted by @nanamiscocksleeve for a spooky szn! I encourage every writer to join in, I had lots of fun writing this ;) This was a great way for me to practice my smut writing...which is definitely a little rusty, lol.

Thanks for hosting this event Ray!

🎃 Happy start to the spooky szn 🎃

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/Witch!reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Warnings : 18+ content, SMUT!, fingering, intercourse, dirty talk

The forest was silent, except for the crackle of cursed energy and dark magic swirling in the air. The moon was full, casting a silver hue over the earth beneath it, setting the tone for that crisp Halloween night.

Gojo stood casually at the edge of the clearing, his white hair tousled by the breeze, a smirk curling on his lips as he eyed you. Power pulsed between you, thick and intoxicating—but the heat in his gaze had nothing to do with the battle.

The two of you had fought before, and it was always a draw.

You enjoyed causing trouble for the jujutsu sorcerers; you liked watching them struggle to keep up. But Satoru Gojo was a different story.

Gojo had been sent on a solo mission to hunt down a powerful witch—you.

Your tight black dress clung tightly to your body, though it was now ripped in a few places due to the battle between you, exposing just the right amount of skin to the cool autumn air. You lifted your wand to point toward the white-haired man, throwing your pointed black hat to the side.

“They really sent me for you? I almost feel bad,” Gojo taunted, voice low, playful. His eyes, impossibly blue, gleamed with something far more dangerous than any amount of cursed energy—desire.

You squared your shoulders, the wand in your hand crackling with magic. “Don’t get cocky, Satoru. You’ll regret it.”

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, eyed you with his signature smirk, but you could see the calculating glint behind those cocky blue eyes. “I knew you were strong,” he drawled, casually adjusting his blindfold, “but I didn’t think you’d give me this much trouble.”

Magic exploded from your wand, ripping through the air with a loud bang. But Gojo dodged with infuriating ease, his Infinity shimmering in the air as he closed the distance between you in a blur of speed.

With a wave of his hand, a barrier of pure cursed energy shot toward you. You barely managed to deflect it, the force of the impact sending you skidding back, your boots digging into the earth.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

You barely had time to react before he appeared behind you, his hand raised to deliver a blow. But you were ready. With a flick of your wand, you summoned a shield of dark energy, the force of his attack clashing against it in a violent burst of light and shadow.

Gojo let out a low whistle as he jumped back, his grin widening. “Not bad, witch. But let’s see how you handle this.”

He moved faster than you could track, his Infinity shimmering around him as he launched a series of cursed techniques in your direction.

You dodged with precision, your own magic swirling in the air as you countered with a blast of raw energy.

The ground trembled beneath your feet, trees splintering around you as your powers collided. You finally had an opening; you readied your aim to finally bring this battle to an end, but he vanished before your eyes.

“Too slow,” he murmured, appearing behind you, his breath hot against your ear. “But god you’re pretty, I’ll give you that.”

Before you could retaliate, his one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other held both your wrists tight above your head.

The fight was still fresh, but your pulse quickened for an entirely different reason now.

You could feel every inch of him pressed against you—the firm muscles of his chest, the heat radiating off him, the unmistakable bulge growing hard against your lower back.

“Gojo—” you breathed, your wand dropping from your hand as his grip on your wrists tightened.

“Getting distracted?” he teased, his voice a smooth, teasing purr. His hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your hips. “God, you look even better up close.”

“Let’s call this a draw,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I think I found something a little more interesting to play with, hmm, pretty witch..”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the nearest tree. His mouth was on your neck now, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

God, you wanted him—bad—and the worst part was that he knew it, he knew it because this is what happened…every. fucking. time.

You gasped loudly, struggling to keep control, but the way his fingers skimmed over your waist, under the hem of your soiled dress, was driving you insane.

You felt a wet heat build between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together—a weak attempt to suppress the inevitable.

His mouth claimed yours in a hungry kiss, all starvation and dominance. His tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, while his hand roamed freely over your body, grabbing your tits roughly.

You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him intoxicating, head spinning as he pressed you harder against the rough bark of the tree, it piercing the exposed skin on your back.

“Satoru—” you gasped when he pulled away, his lips trailing down your throat, over your collarbone.

“Say it again,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging them down in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him. “Say my name.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding you already wet for him. You did as he asked, “Fuck, Satoru.” You moaned in reaction to his teasing touch on your pulsing cunt.

He chuckled, low and dark, fingers teasing over your clit, circling the sensitive nub with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Already soaked?” he taunted, voice thick with arrogance. “And here I thought you wanted to fight.”

You whimpered as his fingers worked you with precision, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure racing through your gummy walls. Your knees buckled, but Gojo’s body pinned you firmly to the tree, his breath hot against your neck as he continued his torturous rhythm.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, head falling back against the tree as he works you over with skilled precision, each thrust of his fingers drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, pretty witch," he coos, his lips ghosting over your skin. "I want to hear you beg for me."

You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but it’s a losing battle.

The pressure builds and builds, and when his thumb grazes your clit while his two long fingers continue to pulse in and out of you, you can’t stop the broken–put pornographic—moan that escapes your lips.

"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers quickening their pace, fucking you with a practiced, almost lazy confidence.

“You’re so good,” you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin. “Now let’s see just how well you can take me.”

In one smooth motion, Gojo brought you away from the tree that had previously acted as your fucking-post, and turned you so your back was to him, and his large bulge was pressed up against your ass.

He reached one of his hands to roughly cup your tit, twirling your hardened nipple between his fingertips. His other hand left your dripping cunt, and he brought it up to your mouth, holding out his fingers for you.

“I want you to have a taste before I get to. I bet it's so sweet.” He growled, his voice laced with desire, his eyes watching your sweet lips, as you took his long fingers in, sucking them dry for him.

Once you finished sucking the life out of his fingers, he let out a satisfied sigh before roughly sticking them back into your warmth, moving them around, feeling every inch of your insides.

You let out a loud whimper as he did so, feeling his cock jump against your ass in response to your seductive noise.

He removed his fingers once again and inserted them into his own mouth, You were left panting—no—gasping for air as he enjoyed your sweet nectar.

“God…I was right, baby you’re sweet like candy.” He said in a low whisper before undoing his pants with one smooth hand motion, freeing his hard cock.

You barely had time to process it before he lifted your dress up over your hips, exposing your ass to the crips air.

He pressed the thick head against your entrance, teasingly slow, the heat of him making you dizzy.

“Beg for it,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction quite yet, so you bit your tongue. But he sensed your hesitation and reached his hand up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m not even close to being finished with you.” He placed a sloppy kiss right under your ear as he tilted your head back. “Now beg for it.”

His demanding voice sent you well over the edge, your body trembling with need. “Please, Satoru! I need you now. P-Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. With a low groan, he thrust into you, stretching you wide as he buried his thick mass deep into you.

The sensation was overwhelming—he was so big, filling you completely, the stretch almost too much, but the pleasure hit just as hard.

Your screams could probably be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes were wet with tears from the sheer pleasure of his dominating rhythm, and your mouth wouldn’t stop letting the world know his name.

“Fuuuck,” Gojo groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly slowed his rhythm savouring the way your walls clenched around him. “So fucking tight.” He moaned as he pushed himself further into you than either of you knew was possible.

“Satoru—oh god—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision go white.

Your nails dug into his lower arms as he picked up the pace again, each thrust harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet of the forest.

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, each movement bringing you closer to the edge, as he held your back up against his chest so he could watch how your tits bounced as he fucked you.

He smirked against your neck, one hand sliding down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. “That’s it, pretty witch. Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed instantly, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as your orgasm hit.

And then you’re falling—tumbling over the edge as pleasure crashes through you in waves, your body shaking as he coaxes every last ounce of pleasure from you.

You yell out his name, a trail of moans follow closely behind as your walls clench around his long cock, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Gojo groaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. With a few more rough thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling hot and thick as he came with a low growl.

For a moment, the forest was silent again, the only sound your ragged breathing as Gojo slumped against you, still buried deep inside.

He pressed a soft, almost tender kiss to your temple, his usual cocky grin returning.

“Don’t you just hate when a battle ends in a draw..” He teased, his fingers wiping away some of your orgasm-caused tears with a smug look on his face.

“You’re fun,” he whispered, pulling out slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thighs. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

You couldn’t speak, but you readjusted your dress and picked up your wand from the muddy forest floor, still reeling from the intensity of what just happened.

But as he pulled away, adjusting his clothes with a satisfied smirk, you knew one thing for sure—this wouldn’t be the last time Gojo Satoru got the best of you.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween, pretty witch.”

[tddyhyck]

has never went to oovoo javer

pairings ⇢ uber driver!hyuck x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ strangers???, protected sex (kinda), car sex, thigh riding, fingering, oral (m receiving/slight f receiving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (f), mentions of being high, squirting, lip ring hyuck OFC, also big fat cock hyuck agenda, roleplay

word count ⇢ 4.1k

a/n ⇢ i dreamed this or something i swear, also thank u hua my bestie for letting me talk about this as always 🤭🤭

masterlist

you didn’t take uber’s often, usually opting for carpooling with friends or using public transport, but when you did you always got the same driver. he was pretty nice all of the times you met him, not bothering you with talking unless you started the conversation and even handing you candy after the third time you rode with him.

he was really attractive too, at least from the backseat and from his uber profile picture he seemed to update regularly. he had longish dark hair, plush rosy lips with a pretty silver lip ring, and he wore an insane amount of rings that suited him.

you always wondered if he had some sort of other job or if he was just an uber driver. he seemed like someone who would be in a band or work at a grocery store. there was noi-between. you were nosy but never wanted to pry since he was just your always uber driver.

today was different for you though you had left your friends late so you couldn’t take the bus and your friends were high just like you. so you got on your little uber app and waited to see who it was. it would almost be surprising if it wasn’t haechan, but his face popped up on the app and it made you a little giddy.

you could overthink and let your mind wander to why he was always picking you up and somehow always right around the corner but you didn’t. you liked seeing him with decorated fingers gripping the wheel while he played music you had said you liked.

so you bid your friends goodnight and hurried down the stairs to the front of the building. looking left and right to see if his familiar black suv was pulling up. you waited a minute rocking on your heels and shivering slightly when you finally saw him pulling up flipping his lights to get your attention. you scurry over to his car gripping the handle and sliding into the back seat and fixing your hair with your hands before looking up to see him staring back at you.

“hi,” you mumble, scanning his face to see his lip ring glinting in the car light.

“hi, pretty, how are you?” he responds, lips pulling into a slight smile. you don’t remember what ride he started calling you pretty on but it made you want to giggle and kick your feet.

“high and horny,” you blurt, making him throw his head back laughing. you cover your mouth quickly mortified at your confession. “fuck sorry.”

“you’re good, pretty, just don’t make a mess on my seats,” he winked before turning back around to face the front. you throw your head back to hit the headrest while heat floods your body. from both the embarrassment and the heat between your legs and his little comment didn’t help. you squeezed your legs together, the fabric of your dress riding up as you did.

the drive to your place was about 15 minutes and it was going to be complete and total torture but once you got home you could hole up in your room with a hand between your legs and release the pent-up feelings.

you had forgotten how getting high made your panties insanely wet and your body vibrate. but you remembered now staring at haechan who was tapping his ringed fingers on the steering wheel and letting his tongue swipe his lip before tugging on his lip ring with his teeth. you wondered how that would feel against your hot skin. the cool metal against your thighs while his head was between your legs teasing your cunt.

your legs pressed together again and gripped your knee with your hand. you didn’t realize a whimper had slipped out from your throat as your fingers drifted up your knee to raise the hem of your dress and make the skin of your thigh tingle.

you looked out the window hoping something could distract you from the ache between your legs and the hot guy in the front seat. you never felt his eyes floating to you through the rearview mirror, or the way he scanned you, watching the way your leg bounced and your dress rode up your soft thighs.

he could tell you weren’t being funny with your horny comment. you were on the edge of your seat needing to be touched. he wondered what you thought about maybe him touching you, fingers trailing over your skin making you twitch beneath him. now he was working himself up and letting his mind wander. he shook his head concentrating back on the road instead of your panties peeking out as the dress rose even more.

one little touch won’t hurt, right? just something to press against your pulsing core. you side-eye haechan to see him focusing on the road so you let your hand slide further up your leg. using your nondominant hand hopefully to deter you from flicking your wrist like you liked. each touch feels like something deeper and more intimate than normal, the slide of your fingers before they touch the fabric of your panties has your breath hitching.

the panties feel so soft and delicate and so damp and hot practically dripping in your arousal. your chest was almost heaving when you pressed your fingers against your center. you could feel your clit pulsing under your touch but the pressure of your digits wasn’t enough to relieve it.

haechan was still peeking back at you, gawking when your hand slipped between your legs as you leaned your forehead against the car window, your breath fogging the glass. he could feel his jeans growing tighter when you finally rocked your hips ever so slightly. he wanted to watch you, stare at you while you ground against your hand, but he was driving and he had to get you to your destination safely.

once you started moving you couldn’t stop yourself letting your hips do the work bucking perfectly against your fingers. the hot ache between your legs only felt like it was growing. chasing the relief you knew you would get when you just let yourself have it, legs shaking, the mind-numbing orgasm you craved. but you were in the back of haechan’s car so you stopped moving and huff against the window resting your forehead on the cool glass taking some of the heat from you.

taking a minute to breathe, moving your hand far away from between your legs you try to collect yourself. what the fuck were you doing? trying to get off in the back of an uber like a weird porn intro. then your mind started drifting to porn - no. focus. no dirty nasty porn brain.

“you good?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head. had he seen you? did he know you were getting freaky in his back seat?

“yeah just, yeah,” you mumble, still a little brain foggy. you look up to see him staring back at you in the rearview his eyes are darker but still as sweet as ever.

“your temp okay?” you nod knowing he can see you but still mutter a yes as your head lulls on the headrest.

“there’s a lot of traffic tonight, might take longer than normal,” he mentioned and you groan in response making him smirk to himself. it only made you want to cry. you can’t wait much longer you’re already trying to cum in the car and now there’s traffic. a cruel and unusual world to live in.

“it’ll be okay, baby, i’ll get you home safe,” he says, reaching his hand back to pat your knee. you felt like you were on fire from his pet name switching to baby and the skin-to-skin contact. you wanted him to slide his hand higher and touch you where you needed it.

you pout while you whimper mostly to yourself and grip the hem of your dress now suddenly aware of how it lays almost at your hip exposing so much skin. you don’t even recognize your hands lingering, smoothing over the fabric you relax into the feeling. closing your eyes leaning back and your hands move on their own.

it doesn’t even feel like your hands that are pulling your panties to the side letting the cool air hit your heat. your other hand finally making contact and making you sigh at the touch. your fingers swirling around your pulsing clit collecting the slick that's filled your panties. you can already feel yourself getting close, the touch finally providing what you need.

you don’t notice the boy in the driver's seat staring back at you through the mirror watching the way your face twists and mouth falls open as you flick your wrist. he’s almost drooling seeing your cunt glisten as you bring yourself closer. he watches closely but still flicks his eyes back to the road catching your hole flutter and begging to be filled.

he brings his hand to palm his jeans matching your timing, but he wants you. needs to feel you around him while he fills you up. he can only imagine the way you would wrap around him perfectly. but he can't, he really can't, you're his sweet little frequent rider who gives him the best reviews. but also you’re in his back seat cunt dripping onto his leather seats. what’s a man to do?

your hand isn’t enough so your hips start to buck against your fingers slipping and sliding against your clit and your hole. you want to slip your fingers inside and fill yourself but you need to be fast don’t savor the moment just get off.

suddenly you remember you aren’t so alone and you flutter your eyes open and see him staring back. it makes your breath hitch when you make eye contact through the mirror but you’re in too deep to stop. you almost want to go harder with how his dark eyes stare into you unapologetically looking down at your pussy.

“can you pull over,” you almost whimper and he looks back at you expression flipping between dark to concerned. wondering if you’re going to beat him up or if you want more like he does. but he doesn’t hesitate to go down a side road and find a parking lot for some privacy. he can see your fingers still moving in his peripheral vision.

when he finally pulls in and parks you waste no time unbuckling before leaning forward to tug his sweater and attach your lips to his. he doesn’t wait to reciprocate, pressing hungrily into you. his lips are just as soft as they looked at the cool metal of his piercing had your head spinning.

“is this okay?” you pull back breathing heavily and staring up at him.

“so much more than okay,” he responds, smirking over at you, and you smile back tugging his collar and making him scramble out of his seat clumsily crawling into the back with you making you laugh. you tug him to you again gripping the soft knit of his sweater as your lips find him again.

you push him to sit back but follow his lips keeping you attached to him before straddling his lap. the ripped denim covering his leg is pressing against your core and his hands are kneading your hips over your dress, but you want him closer. you grind into him and whimper into his mouth and his tongue chases your lips lapping up at them.

“more,” you whine and his hands grip your hips tighter, rocking you against his leg.

“so needy,” he breathes, sitting back to look at you with heavy eyes. your eyes are closed but you can feel him staring at you and each move you make. you lift the hem of your dress pulling it up to reveal your panties to him and the source of your moans.

he groans leaning forward to kiss your neck as his hands slide over your exposed flesh. fingers grazing under the waist of your panties, snapping them against your skin. his hands keep you from moving against him as fast as you want to and it’s frustrating but his tongue suckles your neck distracting you.

“slow down, pretty, let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your skin before blowing cool air against your neck, making you shiver.

“need more,” you whimper, but his hands slow you down before stopping you with a pout on your face. he smirks up at you before kissing your lips and turning to lay you back against the seat.

he presses against you, his body encompassing you and you feel him all around. one hand holding himself up on the seat and the other gripping your thigh fingers smoothing the skin as his lips desperately meet yours.

his lips mold to yours and you whimper against him opening your mouth to slip your tongue out sliding over his lips. he chases your tongue sucking it into his mouth. the sucking sounds filling his backseat as your saliva mixes and smears against your mouths. and you love it the messy and needy way he kisses you feels so raw and real.

your breathing is heavy in his mouth and so is his. he releases your lips letting his wet mouth roam down your face to your neck licking against the warm skin and your hands comb through his hair clinging to the strands. he's flipping your dress up again gripping higher on your thigh.

“touch me,” you whine, grabbing his wrist and moving it to graze your panties. you hear and feel him groan, vibrating against your neck making you shiver. he doesn’t hesitate to do what you say, gripping your panties and sliding them down before pulling away to fully remove them.

“fuck you’re soaked,” he moans lifting your soiled panties and swirling them around his finger to tease you.

“shut up,” you groan, covering your face with your hands but your lower half is still completely exposed to him.

“stop you’re fucking cute,” he pulls your hands away staring down at you. “can i keep these?” he smirks, nodding to the panties.

“only if you do something in the next 5 seconds,” you whine at him bucking your hips for something. he just coos down at you teasing your neediness, but he touches you, fingers pressing into your thighs dragging closer to your core. you don’t see him toss your panties into the front seat.

“you’re so fucking needy. can’t believe you were getting off in my backseat.” you mewl at his words you can’t deny it. “so fucking wet.” he whispers fingers touching your cunt and making you twitch. his fingers slide over you collecting the juices dripping out of you before bringing his fingers up in front of his face scissoring them curiously staring at the slick clinging to his digits and it only makes u more embarrassed.

“what’s got you shy? you weren’t shy earlier with your hand down your panties.” he teases before swirling his tongue around his fingers staring right at you while he does it. you try to avoid his eye contact as he tastes you on his digits.

“hmm? what is it, pretty?” you shake your head as he leans closer to you licking at your lips while his spit-covered fingers slip between you and find your core again. your mouth falls open when he uses a finger to fill you up. he watches you intently the way you try to close your mouth and bite your lip but he stops you licking over your mouth distracting you.

“don’t be quiet. let me hear you.” you nod harshly in response, moaning when his finger curls inside of you. you want more, you need more.

“more haechan, please,” you plead looking up at him and bucking your hips against him.

“huh? can't hear you.” you want to roll your eyes but you want him to fill you up more.

“more need more of you please.” you croak louder this time and he doesn’t waste time adding another finger making your legs tremble when his digits immediately curl inside of you. he leans back between your legs watching the way your cunt swallows his fingers. his hand that was holding him up is pressing your thigh backward showing you to him completely.

“so fucking pretty, take it so well yeah?” he coos staring down at you watching the way your mouth is open and fingers slide over your lips. his fingers are moving skillfully inside of you and his thumb swirls over your clit.

“is good. so good,” you manage breath caught in your throat you haven’t felt so good in so long. the pleasure taking over and swirling in your stomach tightening with each thrust.

“yeah, pretty? gonna cum huh?” his words make you cry so close to the edge. “tell me.”

“so close.” you whimper, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him to you. he’s sucking your neck instantly, keeping his hand thrusting into you.

“cum, pretty girl,” he says, and you can’t stop letting the knot in your stomach release as you do. arching into him as he works you through it, releasing on his hand and the seat beneath you. your legs close around him but he doesn’t stop until you're pulling on the hair at his nape.

he pulls away looking down between you dipping his fingers into the mess you made.

“you’re a squirter? cute,” you shake your head and want to melt into the seat. since when are you a squirter? “liar, you made such a mess.” he teases before leaning down to lick over your cunt.

“nuhuh, so much,” you whine, pushing his head away but he just smirks up at you, swirling his tongue lower to collect you on his tongue.

“you just taste so fucking good.”

“wanna taste you,” you say boldly leaning up and catching him off guard. your hands find their way to his belt fiddling with the leather.

“want to be inside you.” he counters, staring back at you gripping your wrist.

“please just-“ he cuts you off with a kiss and releases your wrist letting you unbuckle his belt and quickly tug his zipper. his lips are distracting you but you try to push him backwards to give you room to settle between his legs.

you take his clothed length in your hands and leave wet opened mouth kisses while looking at him to see his reactions. he’s staring down at you, one hand laying over his stomach and the other resting on his thigh. you sit back on your heels pulling his waistband down to let his cock slap against his stomach.

you don’t waste time leaning back down to take him in your mouth. he’s hot and heavy on your tongue and it makes you squeeze your legs together at the idea of him inside of you. you swirl your tongue and take the rest of him in your hands pumping his length.

“so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he whispers, fingers pushing your hair out of your face mainly to see your eyes while you swallow around him. you push your head down to take even more of him hearing him groan and his fingers curl into your scalp.

“take me so well,” he moans, legs shaking beside your head when you moan around him. you want him to fuck your face but you decide not to ask maybe that’s too much for the back seat with your uber driver.

“fuck fuck fuck,” he says trying to push you off of him. you release him with a pop smiling up at him spit sliding down your chin.

“what?” you giggle at him using the back of your hand to swipe at the saliva.

“you’re a fucking minx,” he grins back before dragging you to him to kiss you again. he brings you close to him pulling you onto his lap you whine when you feel his cock against your folds.

“do you have protection?” he asks looking over at you.

“i’m clean but i have some,” you lean back, grabbing your long-forgotten bag.

“i’m clean too but,” he trails off when you lift the packet and tear it open. hurriedly you take it out and slide it down his length making him sigh.

“just fuck my brains out please,” you look at him with doe eyes before kissing him and lifting over his length before pressing it to your hole. you moan in unison as you sink down onto him, filling you up.

“so fucking tight,” he groans as his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. you’re speechless you feel so full and overwhelmed you can barely move just have him inside of you.

“you good?” he asks, grabbing your cheeks to look at him and you nod. “tell me.” he doesn’t demand this time asking softly for you to tell him how you feel.

“so good i can’t think. ‘m so full,” you whimper, falling into his chest and you can almost tell he’s smiling when he soothes over your back and coos at you.

“poor baby,” he coos, thrusting into you. “too much?” you whine and he bucks again. “can't take my fat cock can you?” you shake your head and he thrusts with each word punctuating it.

“ha- chan,” you mewl, lips pressing into his neck. he reaches around you holding you up as he lays you back again. his hair falls in his face as he leans over you thrusting into you deeply. he keeps his pace slow but steady, not letting you miss a single drag of his cock inside of you.

he kisses the side of your open mouth before sitting up between you moving his hands to press your thighs against your chest. he stared down at the way your cunt swallows his length with each thrust completely sucking him in.

“take me so fucking well,” he groans and you feel tears slipping down your face. “letting your little uber driver fuck you such a dirty whore.”

“hyuck,” you whine, slipping from the space.

“who?” he stops his movements staring down at you. you can see he’s trying not to break but his teasing eyes almost give him away.

“haechan, harder,” you whisper, he grins at you following your instructions. deepening each stroke and pushing you into the seat.

“like that, baby?” you nod sloppily and feel the familiar feeling coming back, the sweet release so close you can almost taste it. haechan notices bringing his finger to swirl around your clit.

“pretty baby, gonna cum on my cock?” he moans looking down at you.

“so close,” you whimper back, gripping his arm tighter. he moves his arm from your grasp to lock your fingers together as he plunges into you.

“gonna let your uber driver fuck you and have you a dirty mess in his backseat, huh? little slutty thing just fucking anyone.” his filthy words are all it takes to have you clenching tightly around him mumbling incoherently as you cum. he groans at the way your pussy squeezes around him and grips him so tight.

“cum on me,” you whisper to him, head still full of pleasure but you know he’s close to his own.

“so nasty.” he groans, his hand still holding yours and the other still grips your thigh, bruising the supple flesh. you slip your hand between you pulling the condom off in one motion just as he releases, coating your messy cunt with hot white cum. “fuck.”

he slides his cock against your cunt smearing his cum and letting it mix with yours as you both catch your breath. you look down between your legs watching him grinding his cock against your clit seeing the mess you’d made.

“you’re such a freak.” he chuckles looking up at you, catching you staring.

“shut up,” you whine trying to cover your face again but he doesn’t let you. gripping your wrists and kissing you tenderly.

“we gotta divulge in your little kinks more often baby. you’re so filthy.” you want to look away because it feels like he’s staring through you.

“you’re still my uber driver, remember?” you tease him.

“oh sorry miss, we’re definitely going to have a late arrival.”

“hyuck,” you whine trying to push him away.

“you slipped with that earlier baby, so cute.” he teases again, reaching over to the glove box to grab some napkins.

“it’s hard not calling you that. you’re my hyuck,” you pout at him.

“i know and you’re my filthy slutty whorish girlfriend,” he grins mischievously, but still diligently cleaning you both up.

“and so are you.”

“i’m keeping the panties by the way.”

“like you haven’t already stolen 10 other pairs.” you roll your eyes playfully.

“it’s because i’m disgustingly obsessed with you.”

©️ tddyhyck

[cherubshert]

Hiii, if you haven't already can you do morning's with enhypen? Like waking up needy to them, getting ready for the etc 🙏🙏

Sweet Mornings...

A/n: I'm sorry this took me a long time to finish, i was kinda hesitant to write this cause I don't write things like this, really cause it flusters me tbh. But ig I wanna step out a lil now that I'm an adult. I changed the request a little too tho, uhh. Just Hyung line, I would have written for sunoo and Jungwon as well, maybe next time if ppl like this one.

Warnings: Kissing, making out, Talks of engagements and fighting, suggestive but not going fully into it cause I'm a coward ig lol, angst(?). I got really excited with Hoonie's.

𔘓 Heeseung

The peaceful hug of sleep is harshly interrupted by the blaring of your boyfriend's alarm. You groan, struggling to move in his unwavering grasp, his chest still calmly moving signalling he's still deep in slumber. When your right hand is set free, you turn off the aggravating sound. You stare at the ceiling, using all of your strength to get out of Heeseung's hands.

When you return to the room, Heeseung is sitted at the edge of the bed, hunched over his phone, not looking up when you draw closer. "Did my alarm ring? I didn't hear it." "I did." You grumble, flopping down on the bed next to him, relaxing your back into it.

He gently rubs your thigh, "sorry, love." you groan at him, pressing your hands to your chest, your eyes closing. You feel him move, finding his way between your legs, his head resting on your chest. "I wanna sleep hee." " I'm not trying to stop you darling." You sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He gently shifts again, kissing up your neck, your fingers twitching slightly. "Hee." You gasp, letting your arms flop to the bed as he rises up. His fingers lace with yours, "Sorry, am I disturbing you?" He teased, you shake your head.

"Beautiful." he mutters, capturing your lips.

𔘓 Jay

Arguments with Jay were rare, but when they happened, they often left the both of you hurt. That was the case the night before, Jay's harsh words repeating in your mind as you slam your apartment door behind you. The darkness of the night engulfed you as you walked to god knows where to clear your mind. When you come home you're met with silence, the clock ticking in the background. 3:00 am.

You settle for the couch, using a soft plushie as a pillow, covering you body with your jacket.

You barely drift off when you're awakened by your body being hoisted up. Though you can't see him, your arms wrap around his neck, your soft breath brushing against his neck. Jay gently places you on your shared bed, his body hovering over you.

"I was so worried." he murmurs, you struggle to act like you don't care, the slight quiver in his voice causing your heart to squeeze in pain. "You didn't answer your phone, I went to check everywhere but I couldn't find you." a tear falls to your check, rolling off immediately. "My phone died." You answer, your right hand raising to wipe his tears. You sit in silence before his lips are pressed to yours, apologies slipping from his lips when he pulls away.

He is fully over you now, his lips kissing your skin gently, apologies following every press of his lips to your skin. Your fingers lace as the sun slowly starts to peek in.

𔘓 Jake

Jake plays with the subtle silver band on your finger, the dopey smile from the day before never wavering. Jake's eyes raising to meet yours excitedly, "I can't believe we're engaged." he repeats, you chuckle, pulling your hand away to rub your eyes. "You've said that all night." he wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you closer.

"I can't believe it... Can't believe you said yes." He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. A giggle leaves you as you playfully push him away, wiping your face. "Maybe I should've said no, after all the stress you put me through all weekend. " He pouts, pulling you close to his chest, his hair tickling your skin.

"Sorry, I wanted it to be special, and memorable." you shun him playfully, crossing your hands over your chest, leaning your head away. He bites the space between your neck and jaw gently, a small yelp leaving your lips. "Yunnie!" He giggles into your neck, hands moving to your side, tickling you.

You laugh loudly, struggling to get out of his grasp. You turn your body slightly, hold his right arm tightly, both hands stopping in response. You pause to catch your breath, leaning forward towards his neck. He responds faster than you, pressing your arms to your chest, his body going to hover over you.

"I'm winning this one babe." you cock your eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. You bite your bottom lip, trailing your eyes down to his, your eyes looking back up into his. His stare intense, a slight blush rising to his face. "Really?" You take advantage of his loosening grip, reaching up to pull him down. Your lips dance with his, your tongue licks at his bottom lip, and he readily welcomes you, his hand gripping the sheets beside your head.

You pull away, leaning up more to bite his ear, giggling at the shakey sound he lets out. "I think I won Jakey."

𔘓 Sunghoon

You stir awake hearing a loud sound ring through your apartment, your heart pounding in your ear as you stay in your position waiting to see if anything else would come up. Your name catches your ear, though muffled, your previous fear flipping to happiness. You jump to your feet, forgetting your slippers, the cold tiles waking up your nerves more.

"Hoon?" He's barely visible, shifting his bags. He looks up and smiles, "Hey." You're in his arms almost a second later, he let's out a surprise laugh as he stumbles backwards. " Thought you were coming home tomorrow." you murmur into his neck, "Surprise~" he teases. He holds you for a second, before gently going to push your shoulders to see your face. Your head shakes in response, your grip not faltering, slowly growing drunk on his scent. "can I look at you? It's been months since I saw your face." "Please just hold me." He easily complies, both arms wrapping around you tightly.

You pull away from him eventually, his hand raises to your cheek. You finally scan his face fully, your face twisting with worry. "You look exhausted." he only smiles, "I am, a little." the last part comes out lightly and deep, your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips before moving back. He leans in and you lean away, "You need to rest." "Hah, yeah." he pulls away, his hand reaching for his luggage.

Your hand lightly brushes his away, a short huff leaving you as your struggle to raise it. "You'll get hurt y/n, I got it." "I got it." You say dragging your feet towards your room. He watches you for a second, laughing silently to himself before reaching from his smaller duffle bag.

You're not sure when you both fell asleep, but his soft breath in your face now filled you with a certain warmth. The afternoon sun peeking in through your windows, adding warmth to your body. You brush his hair out of his face, your finger outlining his face before you lean in, pressing your lips gently to his. There's a slight pause before the ends curl up, shifting his face deeper into the pillow, his eyes opening to look at you.

"What a beautiful sight to wake up to." He murmurs, his deep voice ringing in your mind. You snicker, "I know." you whisper in response, your hand moving slightly down his neck, your eyes follow your fingers tracing his skin. "Missed you." you look up at him, you body growing hot as your take in the emotion evident on his face. "Me too." His hand trails down your waist, a trail of goosebumps following in his tracks, despite the layer of clothing keeping his hand from your skin. His cold hand on your warm skin makes you jolt slightly, your shirt raised slightly giving him access to your lower waist.

"Missed you so much you have no clue. you're such a distraction even when you're miles away." He teased. You grip at his shirt as he pulls you close, closing the distance between the both of you. He opens his mouth to speak again, and you immediately press your lips to his, his hand immediately going behind your head.

[leona-hawthorne]

KINKTOBER #3– SUNKEN AND SPELLBOUND / mattheo riddle

october 7th no smut in this part

part one part two

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: mattheo can’t helped but be absolutely entranced when he meets a siren at the black lake. are you luring him in on purpose or is he just obsessed with you?

warnings: siren!reader, tension, no other warnings really, this is just context and build up for the smut in part 2

words: 4.1k

a/n: if this wasn’t for kinktober, i would’ve made it into a full series tbh. also PLEASE watch this video, it heavily inspired this fic and i want you to picture the scene just like this <3

navigation kinktober masterlist

The darkness was palpable. Shadows from the towering trees crept along the edges of the Black Lake as if warning him not to venture too far. The moon hung low, veiled behind wisps of cloud, casting a pale, silver sheen over the still waters. In the center of it all, Mattheo sat alone in a canoe, a single lantern flickering at the bow, its faint glow reflecting off the black water like a shimmering ghost.

He didn’t know what had drawn him here tonight. The Black Lake was no place to linger after dark, not with its depths harboring creatures only whispered about in the corridors of Hogwarts. But something called to him—something unspoken, something that pulled him like an invisible thread until his canoe drifted in the heart of the lake, surrounded by the inky expanse.

That was when he saw you.

At first, it was just a ripple. A disturbance on the otherwise glassy surface, as if the lake itself had shuddered. His eyes sharpened, scanning the water, but there was nothing there. Nothing he could see.

Until there was.

Beneath the surface, just at the edge of his vision, a figure moved. Fluid, graceful, like a shadow cast by the water itself. His heart quickened. He leaned forward, squinting into the depths, but the light from his lantern barely penetrated the water.

And then you rose, your fingers pearlescent and slender as they curled around the edge of his canoe, your skin illuminated in the soft glow. The water slipped off you like silk, your form rising slowly, carefully, until your face emerged from the blackness.

He recognized you at once. Y/N. The quiet girl who sat near the back of the classroom, who rarely spoke and often slipped into the background. But here, in the moonlit silence, you weren’t just a girl anymore. You were something else entirely.

Your eyes glistened like jewels in the dark, reflecting the lantern’s dim light, and your hair clung to your skin, wet and gleaming. He noticed your lips parted, but you said nothing, only staring up at him, as though expecting something.

Mattheo’s breath hitched. What the hell were you doing here? His mind raced. The Black Lake, in the dead of night, in its freezing waters…

His heart pounded, confusion swirling through him. He should have turned back, he should have rowed away, left you there in the cold and silence of the lake. But he couldn’t move. He was stuck, entranced, his eyes locked on yours.

Without a word, you began to sink again, fingers still holding onto the edge of the canoe. Your eyes never left his, even as you descended, your face tilting ever so slightly beneath the surface, lips dipping just below the water’s edge.

No. He couldn’t let you disappear like that. He had too many questions. He just needed to remember how to speak. He leaned forward, his body tilting dangerously, lantern in hand, face following yours, his breath shallow and ragged. He should have stopped. He knew it was reckless. But something about you, something in the stillness of your expression, the way you slipped away like a ghost—he couldn’t let it happen.

Closer. His face hovered over the water, his lips mere inches from where yours had been just moments before. His hand trembled, his fingers clutching the lantern like a lifeline, but still, he leaned further, chasing you as you sank lower and lower.

Then, in an instant, you were gone.

The water rippled where you had been, as if you had never existed at all.

Mattheo’s chest tightened. He blinked, staring into the empty space where you’d vanished. The cold air bit at his skin, his fingers aching from gripping the lantern too hard. His mind whirled.

He’d just witnessed something no one else had. Something no one knew.

Y/N—quiet, kind, reserved Y/N—was a siren.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the water, as if waiting for you to resurface, as if hoping for another glimpse of you in that strange, beautiful, terrifying form. His breath fogged in the night air, his heart pounding in his ears. He should have been scared. He should have been terrified. But despite the fact that he hardly knew you at all, all he could feel was an aching need to see you again.

And he did. Night after night.

Every evening, just before the moon reached its peak, he would return to the lake.

“I know who you are,” he’d called out one night, his voice low, echoing across the lake’s stillness. His words hung in the air, unanswered, as his eyes searched the dark water, desperate for any sign of you. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, each beat punctuated by the endless silence that stretched between them.

For a long time, there was nothing. The lake remained eerily calm, as though it had swallowed every secret and refused to give anything back.

Then, a movement.

Barely there, just beneath the surface, your head lifted. Your eyes—those same, hauntingly beautiful eyes—peeked up at him from the depths, shimmering in the moonlight. You didn’t rise, didn’t reveal yourself fully, but your gaze met his, intense and unblinking.

And in that moment, everything else ceased to exist.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly, hoping you could hear him when your ears were still beneath the surface.

The air between you crackled with unspoken intensity, a tension he couldn’t explain but didn’t want to escape. You were so close, yet so far—just out of his reach, just beneath the water where no one could follow. Your hair fanned out around you like tendrils of darkness, floating in the cold lake. The way you watched him, unblinking and unreadable, sent a chill down his spine.

But this time, you didn’t run. You stayed.

Mattheo’s breath quickened, the cold air burning in his lungs. He didn’t understand this—whatever this was. The fear he had felt that first night was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous. Curiosity. Hunger.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft lapping of water against the canoe. He wanted to say more, to ask you the questions that burned in his mind—What are you? Why are you here? But all of it felt useless in the face of this moment.

You blinked slowly, your gaze unwavering. Then, as if in response to his voice, you rose just a little higher, your lips barely brushing the surface of the water. It was a silent invitation, one that made his pulse quicken and his body move forward of its own accord.

Mattheo leaned down, his face just inches from yours now. His breath ghosted over your skin and he could feel the pull towards you like gravity, something deeper than desire, darker than fascination.

“You should go,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, like the pull of the tide. Your words clung to the air, drawing out the tension between you both, but Mattheo didn’t move. His brow furrowed as he stared down at you, the cold biting his skin, though it was nothing compared to the chill he felt from the thought of leaving.

“Why?” he whispered back, eyes searching your face for answers you seemed unwilling to give. You remained silent, lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, you sank lower into the water, your fingers beginning to slip from the edge of the canoe.

Mattheo’s hand shot out before he could think, fingers wrapping around your wrist, cold and slick from the lake’s depths. For a moment, you froze, your gaze snapping back to his, your dark eyes widening slightly at his boldness.

“You keep coming back, Mattheo,” you said finally, the words heavy with meaning. “Why?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up, but there was something darker behind his grin. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Your expression didn’t change. Serious, still unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—something he couldn’t quite place. “This isn’t a game.”

“Who said anything about a game?” Mattheo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “I think I just like seeing you like this. Out here. Alone.” His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, thumb brushing along your skin in a way that sent shivers up your arm. “You sure you’re not the one who keeps pulling me back?”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before shaking your head slowly, pulling your arm free from his grip. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice almost too soft to hear. “You shouldn’t keep coming back.”

A chuckle escaped his lips, light and playful, contrasting the tension hanging between you. “Yeah, well, too bad. It’s a little too late for that, guppy.”

The nickname, meant to irritate, had the desired effect. Your eyes narrowed, and you clicked your tongue in disapproval, pushing yourself a little further from the boat, but you didn’t leave. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He leaned back casually, resting one arm on the side of the canoe as if he had all the time in the world. “It suits you.”

You huffed, though the irritation in your gaze didn’t seem as sharp as it could have been. “It’s not funny.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Didn’t say it was.”

Despite your stern demeanor, there was a faint softness to the way you watched him now, as if the constant back-and-forth had become something familiar. Something comforting, even if you wouldn’t admit it. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“Mattheo,” you warned, though your voice had lost some of its edge.

“I’ll stop… when you give me a better name,” he shot back, winking. “Something less aquatic.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, sinking just beneath the surface once more, your hair floating like dark silk around you. Yet you stayed close, your presence lingering, even though you weren’t speaking.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmured to himself, staring down at the rippling water where you hovered just out of reach. He knew you were still there, watching him, listening. He always felt it. And no matter how many times you warned him, no matter how many nights passed, he would keep coming back.

He didn’t even fully understand why—just that he couldn’t stay away.

One night, as he settled into the familiar quiet by the water’s edge, he noticed you already waiting, your head barely visible above the surface. This time, you weren’t shrouded in mystery, not hidden beneath the waves like before. Instead, you floated lazily, your eyes trained on him as he approached, a faint frown tugging at your lips.

“You’re persistent,” you muttered, the water rippling slightly with the movement of your arms.

Mattheo shrugged, smirking as he crouched down by the edge of the lake. “I’m starting to think you like seeing me here every night.”

You scoffed, but didn’t swim away, staying just close enough for him to see the way your eyes sparkled in the low moonlight. “I think it’s more that you like coming back, no matter what I say.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a nonchalant grin. “But let’s be honest—if you really didn’t want me here, you’d have dragged me into the lake by now.”

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze flickering toward the horizon as if weighing his words. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Over time, you’d both grown accustomed to the quiet moments, the unspoken conversations that said more than words ever could.

Then, without warning, his smirk widened, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. “So, how’s the water tonight, guppy?”

Your eyes snapped back to his, narrowing instantly. “Mattheo, don’t—”

“What?” He feigned innocence, sitting back on his heels, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just asking a simple question. I’m curious.”

“You know I hate that name,” you muttered, glaring at him.

He chuckled, clearly unfazed by your frustration. “That’s why I keep using it. I like seeing you get all prickly.”

There was a flicker of something in your eyes—annoyance, maybe, but also something softer. Familiar. You huffed, turning your head slightly as if you could hide the faint amusement creeping into your expression. “You’re impossible.”

“I get that a lot,” he quipped, leaning closer to the water’s edge. “So… what’s the deal? Am I going to get the cold shoulder tonight, or are you going to tell me more about that little secret of yours?”

You sighed, floating a bit closer, your wet hair trailing behind you like dark ribbons in the water. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you, guppy.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself, though his tone carried an undertone of something deeper. Something real. You shook your head, but the smile that threatened to break through was unmistakable.

Here, in the light, you seemed harmless. Beautiful. Enigmatic. But he knew what sirens could do—what they were capable of. The stories of sailors who had been lured to their deaths, enchanted by their beauty, their voices, their pull. The line between danger and desire blurred when it came to creatures like you. When you were human, when the water hadn’t yet overtaken your mind, it felt safe. At least, that was what he told himself.

But now, seeing you here, suspended in the dark waters of the Black Lake, your true form only a whisper beneath the surface, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him.

What were your limits?

Would you hurt him if he got too close? If he dared to touch you, would you snap, the water consuming you, pulling you into the primal instincts that lived in your siren blood? You hadn’t tried to harm him, not yet. You hadn’t sung—hadn’t used that infamous voice that could drive men mad, make them lose themselves in you.

But what if you did?

Would you sing for him? Would you lure him closer, draw him into the water, and drown him without a second thought?

He leaned his body down closer to the water over the edge of the canoe, his chest tight with anticipation, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Your lips parted slightly, just a breath away from the surface, your eyes never leaving his.

His voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “Why are you hiding from me?”

Mattheo wondered if this was how it would end—whether he’d be the next victim in a long line of men who had fallen for your kind, chasing after something they could never fully grasp.

But you weren’t like the others. Were you?

And for the first time, Mattheo didn’t care if he drowned.

“I wonder,” Mattheo whispered, his voice barely above the soft lapping of the water, “would you try to drown me if I got closer?”

For a moment, you said nothing. The only sound was the soft ripple of water against the canoe. Then, slowly, you began to rise, hands holding onto the wood of the canoe and pushing you up, your face mere inches from his, water dripping from your hair, your lashes.

“You don’t know what you're asking,” you murmured, your voice low, dangerous, yet strangely gentle.

Your breath brushed against his skin, and for a moment, Mattheo didn’t care about the danger. Didn’t care that you could destroy him in a heartbeat. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours.

“What if I do?” His voice was rough, a challenge wrapped in a whisper.

Your eyes darkened as your fingers reached for his, brushing against his hand, cold and wet. His breath hitched, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away, to break the spell you had over him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because at that moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to escape.

Your touch was freezing, a sharp contrast to the heat that coiled in his chest. Mattheo’s breath hitched, his heartbeat a thunderous echo in his ears. You were dangerous. Every part of him knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Your eyes flickered, a brief flash of something—was it hunger? Or was it fear?

Your hand lingered against his, the touch ghosting over his skin as if testing the boundary between you, seeing how far you could push before he would flinch. But Mattheo didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. He wanted to know—needed to know—what you were thinking. Were you holding back, controlling the primal urges that lived inside you, or were you toying with him, drawing him deeper into your web until it was too late to escape?

His lips parted, breath shallow as he whispered, “Why don’t you sing?”

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp, calculating. For a moment, he thought you might laugh, or lash out, but instead, your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Because I don’t need to,” you said, your voice as smooth as the surface of the lake, a dark promise lurking beneath. His pulse quickened at your words.

You didn’t need to sing, didn’t need to lure him with your voice, because he was already yours.

You had him in the palm of your hand without needing to utter a single note. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he wasn’t in control here. He never had been.

Your fingers trailed up his hand, your touch sending a shiver down his spine as you slowly, deliberately, let them travel up his wrist. Your eyes never left his, locked in a gaze that felt like it could see straight through him, peel back every layer of his defenses until there was nothing left but raw need.

He knew what sirens were famous for. But this—this felt different. you weren't luring him, weren’t pulling him under the water. You were just... watching. Waiting. And that was almost more terrifying than the alternative.

His chest tightened, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. He was playing with fire, dancing on the edge of something he couldn’t fully understand. And yet, despite every instinct telling him to pull back, to run, he leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Whatever I want,” you murmured.

His hand reached out before he could stop himself, fingers brushing against your wet skin, slick and cold beneath his touch. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just watched him with those dark, unreadable eyes as if daring him to go further.

“You’re here every night,” you said, your voice soft, carrying across the stillness of the lake. There was something different about you tonight—something more vulnerable, almost hesitant. “Every night, you return with your silly little lantern and row into the middle of the pitch-black water. Why do you return every night?”

Mattheo swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. He didn’t have an answer, not one he could put into words. Why did he come back? Why did he risk everything—his sanity, his safety—just to be close to you?

“You think you could follow me?” Your voice was cool, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something darker. “You’d drown, Mattheo.”

“I know how to swim, guppy.”

Your lips curved into a sad, knowing smile, your eyes dropping for a second, as if what you were about to say cost you something. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The silence between you stretched, the air thick with tension, your gaze searching his, calculating like always—but this time, there was a flicker of doubt. Your voice softened, barely a whisper as your words faltered for the first time. “I… I could…”

Mattheo leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest, his voice quiet but urgent. “What could you do?”

“I could take you under.” Your eyes met his, wide and filled with a fear he’d never seen in you before. “And I don’t know if I’d let you come back up.”

The words hung in the air, a cold truth that settled deep in his bones. Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat. He knew the danger—he felt it. You weren’t just telling him that you could kill him, that you could drown him and drag his body down into the depths forever. You were warning him that if he got too close, if he pushed too far, you might not have a choice. That your nature might take over, and he would be lost.

But instead of pulling back, instead of retreating like any sane person would, Mattheo felt a wild thrill rush through his veins. He leaned in closer, his voice low and reckless. “And what if I want that? What if I want to drown?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mattheo.”

A dangerous game. Of course he was. This whole thing had been dangerous from the start. From the moment he saw you in the water that first night. He wasn’t stupid—he knew that sirens lured men to their deaths. But the more he watched you, the more he realized something was different.

You hadn’t tried to hurt him.

Not yet.

“I’ve been coming here for weeks,” he said, his voice almost teasing, though the tension still held him in its grip. “Shouldn’t you have tried to, I don’t know, eat me or drown me by now? Or whatever it is that you sirens do?”

Your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners. But it didn’t reach your eyes, which remained dark and heavy with unspoken fears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your eyes snapped to his, the vulnerability back, your lips parting as if to argue, but nothing came out. You just stared at him, frozen for a beat too long before moving forward to grip the edge of the canoe once more. “You don’t even know me.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’m obsessed with you.”

Your grip on the canoe loosened, fingers dipping beneath the surface again as you drifted back, your face slowly sinking into the water once more, his eyes holding yours until you were just a shadow beneath the surface.

The moon reflected on the water, casting a pale glow over the lake, and Mattheo leaned forwards over the edge of the canoe, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm his racing heart. His mind whirled with thoughts of you, with the danger, the thrill, the temptation. He could still feel you, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin, and it drove him mad.

He was playing a dangerous game, but he didn’t care.

Mattheo's breath hitched, his gaze locking on your lips, so close yet agonizingly out of reach. He wanted nothing more than to dive into the cold, murky depths of the lake, to feel your skin against his, to be surrounded, enraptured by you in every way possible.

"I need to be closer to you," he whispered, his voice rough with the raw desire he could barely contain.

Your eyes flickered with something that looked almost like fear. You backed away just the slightest, your fingers loosening their grip. "Mattheo, you don't understand what I am," you murmured, voice barely above a breath, the hesitation clear. "I can be dangerous."

The way you said it—like you were something to be feared, like you were the monster lurking in the shadows—only made him want you more. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat urging him closer, whispering that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"Then be dangerous," he answered, leaning forward, closing the gap between the two of you. He could see the inner struggle in your eyes, the battle you fought against yourself. But he wasn't afraid. He never had been. “Be dangerous, Y/N.”

You stayed still, lips parted as if you wanted to speak, to warn him again, but no words came. And then, with a quiet exhale, you pressed yourself closer to the canoe, your face just inches from his. "You see beauty," you whispered, voice trembling as your eyes searched his face. "But there's darkness in me, Mattheo."

His heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice, the admission you'd been holding back for so long. you weren't telling him something new—he knew. He'd always known. But it didn't matter to him.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," he murmured, his words steady, resolute.

He didn't give you a chance to respond. Before you could stop him, before he could second guess his decision, Mattheo pushed the lantern aside and let himself slide off the edge of the canoe.

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[sinnabarmoth]

These Roses Have Thorns

Pairing: Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Reader has feelings for a man she met at the arcade named Sylus. There are two major problems though. 1. He has feelings for someone else. 2. This means you've contracted Hanahaki disease. Could having a crush be any worse?

Content Warnings: Adult language. Kidnapping. Descriptions of coughing up flowers.

Length: 6k

So you had worked at the arcade for a while now. It was a pretty easy job as jobs went. You restocked claw machines, vending machines, disinfecting joysticks, made sure floors stayed swept and that kids weren’t climbing into through the claw machine flaps to steal toys. For the most part you were behind a desk just people watching.

You saw a lot of couples come in and out, playing games and acting all adorable. It made you long for something like that. You had been single for a while now and the desire for a boyfriend got stronger and stronger every time you saw another ridiculously cute couple come in.

There was this one girl you saw come in a lot. She was always with a different guy though. All of them good-looking. You thought that maybe she was a serial dater or maybe she just had three different boyfriends that she was cheating on. Maybe she was just friends with all of them and you were reading too much into it. It was hard to know for sure because she was so stinking cute and the guys she came in with her were all drop dead handsome.

They spent most of their time at the claw machines winning prizes. After a while you stopped blinking an eye when she came in with the blond then the purple haired guy then the serious looking dark haired man every week. Whatever their relationship was, it was none of your business.

Then one day someone new walked in. You were sure you had never seen this man before. He had silver hair, blood red eyes, and had on dark clothes that stood in stark contrast to the peachy pink interior of the arcade. He spotted you staring and walked up. He was also tall as could be, easily dwarfing you by a good few inches.

“Can you exchange these bills for tokens?” his voice was a smooth and rich baritone that made your toes curl in your shoes.

“Oh uh,” you forced yourself to stop staring and take the bills he held out for you. “Yes. Right away.” You turned, heart hammering hard in your chest as you stuck the bills in the coin machine behind you and exchanged them for a huge bucket of tokens.

“There you are.” You set the bucket on the counter. “Sure is a lot of tokens, planning on playing a lot of games?”

“There’s a certain plushie that a friend of mine wants. It’s apparently a limited supply stock so she was adamant about getting it, but she also got called away on work suddenly. So here I am.”

“Oh! The cake bunny one? Yeah, we don’t get them in very often.” You couldn’t deny you weren’t tempted to steal one for your own plushie collection back home. “Well, sounds like you’re a very good friend. I wish the best of luck to you.”

“Thanks.” he took the bucket and went over to the claw machines. From where you were stood you could keep an eye on him, and you were more than thankful for that. He was definitely not bad to look at.

You watched him for a while, trying and failing over and over to get the plush he desired. He was having good luck accidentally grabbing other ones though. You did end up having to go over and talk to him when you noticed him use an evol on the machine.

“Sorry sir, no evol influence with the machines.” you said, scampering up to him. “Company policy.”

He sighed, looking in at the glass case and recalled his evol. “This bunny is proving far more difficult to get than I anticipated.”

“You got a lot of others though.” you picked up one of the little stuffed bumblebees. “Even if you don’t get the bunny you can shower your friend in all these.”

“She has most of them already.” he poked the bee you were holding. “If you want any of them, feel free to take them. I’ll have no use for them.”

“Really?” you squeezed the bee plushie to your chest.

He smirked. “Of course,” he leaned in closer so he was almost nose to nose, “If you can do me a favor and look the other way on this evol business. What do you say?”

Your face flushed and your heart went racing again. “Oh uh…” you looked away. “I mean, it isn’t like I’m losing money if you end up getting the toy. Just don’t be obvious about it, okay?”

He chucked you under the chin. “You’ll see that I can be very stealthy, no one will ever know about this. Your understanding is greatly appreciated, have your pick of the lot, honey bee.”

Did he just call you honey bee?

He turned back to the game, his evol re-emerging to help move the cake bunny plush into a better position. You were stuck for a moment before remembering yourself and grabbing two other plushes from down by his feet and carrying them back to the desk.

You glanced back over your shoulder and saw that he was watching you with a satisfied smile. A tickle fluttered in the back of your throat and you coughed lightly to dislodge it, though it did nothing of the sort.

The day continued on and soon it was time for you to start locking up. Unfortunately for him, that guy was still at the claw machine. He was hitting his head off the glass and looked about two seconds from breaking it and just grabbing the plush.

“There is no way that this isn’t rigged somehow.” he said. “There just isn’t a way I can be this bad at getting one stupid toy.”

“Well, you got one more token.” you handed it to him. “One last chance and then I gotta lock up.”

“Lock up?” He looked around at the abandoned arcade. “How long have I been at this?”

“Long enough that it’s night now.” you gave him a little pat on the back. “Come on, one last try. You got it.”

He sighed and put in the last token. “You can do it! I believe in you!” Maybe a little cheering would help.

He gave a wry smile and moved the joystick so the claw was over the toy once again. He hit the button and lo and behold the plushie stayed! It dropped down into the chute and the lights flashed as he finally won.

“Three hours…” he took the plush out of the machine. “She had better appreciate what I went through for her.”

“I’m sure your friend will. Now come on, I was supposed to have this place locked up a half hour ago.”

“If you closed half an hour ago why didn’t you kick me out sooner?”

“You had been at it for so long and you didn’t have that many tokens left so I decided to just leave you to it while I did some cleaning.” you shrugged.

You left the arcade and locked the door behind you. Then cursed when you realized it was raining. Walking back to your apartment was going to suck. Why hadn’t you brought an umbrella?

The man went to a motorcycle parked by the curb and got on. “You waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No. I think I’ll just wait to see if the rain lets up any.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose.”

“You let me cheat at the game and kept the arcade open late for me. I can give you a ride home, I have an extra helmet.” he opened the seat and fished out a helmet.

Your heart did another pitter patter in your chest. “You don’t mind? I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed you the helmet. “Get on the bike, honey bee.”

“Okay. Thank you.” you pulled the helmet on. He sat you on the seat of the motorcycle and told you to hold on tight so you didn’t fall off.

You gave him the address for your apartment building and he drove straight there. It was nice getting a ride but because it was on a motorcycle you were still getting drenched by the rain. Finally you made it back to your apartment and got off the bike. “Thanks again,” you said. “Um…sorry I don’t know your name.”

“Sylus.” he held a hand out.

You shook it. “It was a pleasure.” A crack of thunder made you jump. At the same time your phone beeped with an alert. Automatically the emergency alert started playing.

“Severe and unsafe weather conditions. All citizens are encouraged to stay inside. Roads experiencing flooding. Drivers are advised to pull over and remain where they are until the storm has lightened at eleven PM tonight.” the automated voice said.

“Sheesh.” you looked at Sylus as he prepared to get back on his bike. “Hey! You heard that alert the same as me. You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words.” you stormed back into the downpour and grabbed his arm. “It’s not safe. Please. Come inside, just until the rain lessens.”

He considered you for a moment. Something in your eyes must have resonated with him or maybe he was pitying your pleading look but he got off the bike. “Lead the way.”

This…probably wasn’t a good idea. Then again none of the choices you were making tonight were necessarily good considering that you didn’t know this guy. You watched him fail at a claw machine for a couple hours, that was it. And from that you decided to keep the arcade open late, got on his motorcycle, trusted him with your actual home address, and were now inviting him in. You didn’t get a vibe that he was someone who was going to hurt you but if your friends could see you right now they would yell at you for letting a strange man into your apartment for an indefinite amount of time!

Well too late. You were in it now.

You walked up to your apartment and let him. Your immediate course of action was to change out of your wet clothes and into dry ones. When you came back out of your room Sylus was still standing in the entry way dripping wet.

“Oh shoot, I forgot you were also still soaked.” you shoved your wet clothes in the laundry. “I think I have something you can change into while I put those clothes in the dryer.”

“And what do you have that you think will fit me?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure my ex-boyfriend left some of his sweats here when we broke up. Let me go find them. If you want you can go to the bathroom and dry yourself off, I’ll set the clothes outside the door.”

He nodded and went into the room you pointed to. You fished around in your drawers finally finding a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt your ex had missed when he was packing. The pants may be a little short on Sylus and the shirt was definitely going to be a bit snug since his chest was a lot broader but it was better than nothing. You set the clothes outside the door to the bathroom and went about wiping up the puddles of water while you got the kettle boiling. Rainy nights were a good time for hot tea and instant ramen.

The door to the bathroom creaked open and Sylus came out wearing the dry clothes. Like you thought, they weren’t a perfect fit but he didn’t look uncomfortable in them.

“I’ll just take those.” you grabbed the wet clothes and tossed them in the dryer. “Do you want anything to eat or drink? I was making some tea and ramen for myself if you wanted anything. Pretty sure I have some leftover curry too, some snacks, anything sound good?”

“Tea is fine.” he said.

You nodded and poured both of you cups of tea. There was a bit of an awkward air around you two as silence descended. You decided to have mercy and turn on the TV to distract yourself. After your ramen was done you both went to sit on the couch and watch whatever was playing.

As the storm raged on outside you found yourself becoming more and more at ease with your guest. The conversation wasn’t groundbreaking or anything but it was pleasant. He was pretty funny when he wanted to be. Time passed and you barely even noticed when the rain finally let up. It was nearly midnight when your phone alerted you that the streets were safe for drivers again.

“I’ll be taking my leave then.” Sylus said, “Thank you for inviting me in.”

“No problem. Thanks for the ride home.” you pulled his clothes out of the dryer and handed them to him. “Did you want to change back before you left?”

He shrugged on the jacket. “No. This will be fine. I need to get going sooner rather than later.”

You walked him to the door. “This has been a pleasant evening, more so than I was expecting.”

“Glad to know I was a good host.” you beamed. That tickle in the back of your throat had been getting more persistent all evening and you cursed as you turned to hack into your elbow again.

“Sounds like you should have gotten a hot shower when you came home instead of playing hostess.” Sylus said. “Can’t have you getting sick.”

“I’m not sick, I just think there’s some dust in my throat or something.” you wiped at your watering eyes. “Stay dry out there. Good night.”

“Good night.” he nodded and left.

Once the door had closed a large dopey smile had grown across your face. This evening had been so nice! He was really cool and kind and interesting. Not to mention pretty darn handsome. You were afraid you had made your mooning over him obvious by the end but he didn’t seem to have noticed. Probably too distracted by your annoying cough to realize you were gazing at him like a lovestruck school girl.

Maybe fate would lead him back to your arcade another day. You’d be brave and ask for his number if that happened.

You went to bed with your head full of fuzzy warm dreams. You were probably asleep for an hour or two before you woke up again coughing like mad. You could feel something caught in your throat. You know you could! Oh god, were you going to puke?

You swung out of bed and ran to the bathroom coughing and coughing and coughing until your throat was raw and your eyes watered so much you couldn’t see. When you peered down into the toilet bowl you saw a splash of red and your blood went cold. Oh no…was that blood? Were you coughing up blood?

You wiped the tears from your eyes and saw the red spot was not blood at all but instead a bright red rose petal. “Oh shit…”

~~~

The next couple days you could not stop thinking about that damn flower petal. Of course the second you developed a crush on a guy it would turn into Hanahaki disease! Hanahaki was annoying disease that was caused by a metaflux fluctuation hundreds of years ago that had permanently altered human DNA. So now, anytime someone fell for someone who did not reciprocate that feeling they coughed up flowers.

Your life wasn’t in danger. Hanahaki was an annoying chronic disease that lasted so long as you had feelings. You could opt for surgery to have it removed but it was still experimental. You knew that early surgeries had resulted in the patients being unable to fall in love at all after completion. Newer surgeries had seen progress where it just removed the inability to ever develop romantic feelings for the person you previously liked again which was a lot more doable.

Most people just lived with it until they finally had their hearts move on or if their unrequited love turned into an actual love match. The ratio of people who contracted Hanahaki and those who actually got with the person they had feelings for was not great. Then again, you checked five different medical websites and numerous forums and results varied wildly from place to place.

So you were just stuck with this. Coughing up stupid red rose petals again and again, all because you had the gall to like a guy. What a cruel world you lived in. It was absurd! You met the guy once! Spent a couple hours chatting while watching TV and that was it. What were the chances you were ever going to see him again? You just had to wait this out until your heart forgot about him.

Did suck to know that he must not have felt anything for you either. You had really thought you had some kind of connection.

A few more days went by and the cough wasn’t letting up. You didn’t want anyone at work knowing so you lied about having a slight cold and wore a mask to avoid questions. It was another normal day when you heard the door open. Glancing up from your notebook you saw who had walked in. Sylus!

The tickle in your throat started up again. A faint ray of hope shone down on you before being immediately crushed. Right behind him was that girl. The one that you saw coming in all the time with the other good looking guys. She was all oblivious smiles as she tugged on his arm towards one of the claw machines and you watched as Sylus’s expression softened at her touch, letting her pull on him toward the line of machines. It was the same look you had seen on every other guy that came in with this girl. You had seen enough love struck couples walk in and out of here to know exactly what was happening. He liked her.

She was the one that he had spent all that time and money on to win that stupid cake bunny plushie, wasn’t she? Fuck!

This girl had four different guys falling all over themselves and you couldn’t get one guy to look at you! This was beyond unfair! Why did it have to be this guy? Why did she have to add Sylus to her little harem? Would she not be satiated until she had every single good looking guy in the city fawning over her?

You took a deep breath in through the nose. You needed to stop. She was just a girl. Not her fault she’s cute and pretty and stuff. And Sylus didn’t owe you anything. He was just a stranger who had given you a ride home and made small talk with you for a couple hours. That was it. Still, it hurt. You turned around, coughing violently until you felt the wet velvet of a flower petal on your tongue. You tugged the mask down to spit out the petals and dropped them in the trash. This was a nightmare.

“Um…” you turned around at the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was the girl again. She gave you a bright smile. “Can I get some tokens please?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” you pulled the mask back up and exchanged the bills she gave you for tokens.

For the next hour or so you watched as Sylus and this girl went around winning prizes and playing games. You heard them mention getting lunch somewhere as they strolled to the exit. At least you didn’t have watch them any more.

As they were leaving though you saw Sylus turn his head and made direct eye contact with you. You straightened automatically. He gave you a polite smile and then he was gone with the girl.

You sighed. “I’m just an idiot, aren’t I?”

The day came to an end and you locked up the arcade. When you turned around you noticed a motorcycle pull up by the curb. He driver lifted the helmet off and you saw it was Sylus. “Glad I caught you.” he said. He fished something out of the storage compartment of the bike and held a bag out to you. “I washed the clothes you lent me. Here you go.”

“Oh,” you took the bag. “You really didn’t need to give them back. Not like I was going to miss them.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like being indebted to others.”

“Well, thanks.” you rocked on your heels. As he was pulling his helmet back on you felt a question flying off your tongue before you could swallow it back down. “I saw you come into the arcade earlier with a girl. Is she the friend you spent all that time winning that prize for?”

He looked up surprised. “Yes. She was very happy to have the toy but thought me ridiculous for spending so long to get it.”

“It just shows you’re persistent.” you forced a saccharine smile but realized he couldn’t see it behind the mask. “So is she like your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh.” That made you feel a little better. “Then is she dating someone?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing. I just see her come in a lot with other guys and I figured one of them had to be her boyfriend.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “I have a feeling I know who you are talking about.”

Silence descended again. You wished he would just drive off so you could stop yourself from asking questions you knew would hurt you. “So…do you like her?”

“Yes.”

You swallowed back the urge to cough and throw up an entire bouquet of red roses. It felt like the roses in your lungs had spread to your heart and were constricting it with their thorny vines. One word from him and he had devastated you in ways you didn’t even know possible.

“Cool.” you said, your voice tight with control. “Well, good luck with that.”

You turned and started walking down the street, needing away from him before you did or said something else idiotic. Unfortunately he was not letting you off that easy.

“Do you need a lift home?” he called after you.

“No thank you. It isn’t raining tonight.” you said.

“But it is late and you don’t exactly live in the best part of the city.” he said, keeping pace with you on his motorcycle.

“Not as bad as the N109 zone at least.”

You could sense him watching you and when you turned to look at him he had the visor open and was giving you an unimpressed look.

“What?”

“I live in the N109 zone.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It isn’t for the weak.” he parked. “Now hop on already.”

Despite your best judgement you found yourself replying, “Fine.”

He dug the spare helmet out and passed it to you. You hopped on the back of the bike and held onto him as he drive you home once again. Without the rain pouring down on you, you could focus on the ride more. The lights of the city flashed by you so fast they looked like ribbons trailing behind you. Then there was Sylus who was so warm against you. You wanted this drive to never end.

When you got to your apartment building you handed him the helmet back. “Thanks again for the ride. Now I owe you one.”

“I’ll be sure to cash in in the form of you looking the other way when I use my evol to win arcade games.” he said with that smirk that made your insides melt and your lungs constrict. “Now go inside, turn on your light so I know you got in.”

“How like a mother hen of you.” you teased. “See you.” You bounded up the steps and got to your apartment. You turned on the light and went to the window. You saw Sylus down below give you a thumbs up and then he drove off.

The moment he was gone you doubled over and started coughing again, more petals falling from your lips. “These feelings aren’t going away any time soon, aren’t they?”

You were right. Your feelings did not go away as you had hoped they might have. After that night he drove you home again your feelings only continued to grow. This strange little thing became a more common occurrence.

Sylus would come by the arcade with the pretty girl every once in a while to play games and such. Then when evening came and you were locking up, he’d be waiting on the curb to drive you home. You tried not to think anything about it. Tried to tell yourself that he was just being kind. That he was just doing it to keep you in his good graces so you didn’t fine him for using his evol on the machines.

But the hopeless romantic in you saw something else in all his little gestures. Sometimes you would invite him in for coffee or tea and he’d join you for a bit inside. You’d chat as you sipped and then he’d have to leave. Most of the time when you got back to the apartment he’d stay outside and wait for you to turn on the light before driving off. But even that little act of making sure you got inside safely made your heart flutter.

Your weird little friendship was only making you fall harder and harder. And the harder you fell the worse the Hanahaki got. You had finally hit the stage where instead of a couple of petals you were coughing up entire rose heads. Thankfully they were small buds and not huge in full bloom blossoms but it didn’t make them hurt less.

Somehow you had gotten away with keeping your Hanahaki a secret from Sylus. You knew it was only a matter of time till he figured it out though. You had barely been able to cover your tracks and you could tell he was getting suspicious.

Finally you realized that you had to just bite the bullet and tell him about your feelings and the Hanahaki. You knew the chances of him reciprocating were slim to none. He had feelings for someone else but at least it would be off your chest. Maybe then you could finally move on.

It was another day and once again Sylus had driven you home. You turned to go inside but stopped and steeled yourself to tell him how you felt. When you looked back at him though he was tapping his finger quickly on the handle of the bike. “Something wrong? You look antsy.” you said.

“I’m just in a bit of a hurry.” he said.

Your heart clenched painfully, or maybe that was your lungs. “Going to meet your little girlfriend?” you teased, despite the ache in your chest.

He scoffed, “You don’t want to know my business, honey bee. Now head inside.”

“Alright. You get going if you’re in such a hurry.” you ushered him off.

He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Yeah. See you later.”

He took off down the street going far faster than the speed limit allowed. One of these days you were going to have to talk to him about not speeding. Even if he did have some kind of weird advanced healing factor it wasn’t safe for others for him to be going that fast.

You sighed. Your lungs ached as another flower decided it wanted to pop out. Fuck!

You coughed your way up the stairs to your apartment, finally spitting out the little red bulb. Did it look more in bloom than normal? “Well that’s just great.” you muttered. “Guess that’s my punishment for not saying anything. Maybe next time.”

You automatically reached to grab your key from your bag and immediately realized you had left your purse in the storage compartment of Sylus’s bike! Damn it! You grabbed the knob of your apartment door, knowing it wouldn’t open but frustration wanted you to try. You turned the knob and…the door opened! Did you forget to lock it before you left? That was careless but fortunate.

You stepped inside trying to figure out a way to tell Sylus he had your purse if you didn’t have your phone. It was probably why you didn’t notice the shadows at first. Not until you kicked off your shoes and your brain caught up, making out three large figures clad in black standing in your living room.

“Don’t make a fuss and this won’t be a problem.” one of them said.

You immediately turned to run back out the door but the figures lunged, grabbing hold of you before you could turn the handle. Someone hit the back of your head and it made you so dizzy you pitched forward, eyes rolling back into your head.

You couldn’t say when you came to again. There was some kind of bag over your head and you were aware you were in a car, could feel it bumping along down a road. Your head ached and you felt a stickiness at the back of your neck that you couldn’t discern as being blood or sweat. When the car came to a stop you were pulled out and walked somewhere. Even with the bag over your head you felt yourself swaying with dizziness.

Why was this happening? Were you being kidnapped? Trafficked? For what reason could someone want to kidnap you from your home?

You were sat down and tied to chair before the hood finally came off. You could tell pretty instantly you were in some abandoned old factory building. The figures that had kidnapped you were standing around you, two were men and one was a woman.

“What…what is going on?” you said, forcing your thoughts to stay straight. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“Don’t worry,” the woman said, “We’ll let you go once your boyfriend pays the ransom we send.”

“Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.” you told them.

“You do.” one of them, a burly building of a man, gruffed at you. “No point trying to play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I don’t have a boyfriend. Whoever you think I am, I’m not the person you’re looking for.” you snapped at them. “Please, just let me go.”

“We saw him drop you off.” the woman said. “The leader of Onychinus.”

You wanted to question what they meant by Onychinus, you were sure you heard the name before. You were bad about keeping up with the news so you couldn’t say what it meant at the time. It was the other part that caught your attention though, they said they saw your boyfriend drop you off at your house.

Oh dear god above! “You mean Sylus?” you asked. Their gazes hardened.

“See. You do know who we are talking about.” the woman nodded to the more wiry man on her left. “And you wanted to grab the other girl.”

“Sylus isn’t my boyfriend you idiots!” you seethed. At the same time the statement made your lungs spasm. Shit! Not this too!

“We’ve been tracking him for a while and we have noticed time and time again that he drives you home, even comes inside. There’s no point denying it.”

“I’m not denying him taking me home. I’m denying him being my boyfriend. We’re just friends.” coughs wracked your body. You gasped around the flower pushing itself up your throat. “We’re--we--” more coughs shook you, “are nothing. I mean nothing to him.”

“You can say that as many times as you want but we know--”

The woman was cut off as you finally coughed up the flower and spit it onto the floor. All three of them froze as you took in ragged breaths.

“What the fuck is this?” the wiry one kicked the flower. “Do you have Hanahaki?”

“What gave it away, dumbass?” you muttered. “I told you. He’s not my boyfriend. I like him but…but he doesn’t like me. He has feelings for someone else.”

“Shit!” the woman continued to curse. “We grabbed the wrong one?”

“Told you.” the wiry man said.

“Shut it!” the woman snapped at him.

“What now, boss?” the burly man asked. “We can still try ransoming her if they’re friends.”

“You think he’s going to care that much about her worthless little life? There’s every chance he’ll just let us kill her if we send him a ransom.” the woman tsked. “Might as well keep ourselves off his radar until we get the right girl. Let’s just kill her now and move on.”

“Wait!” you screeched, “Wait please! You don’t have to kill me! I promise I won’t say anything if you let me go. Please!”

“We’re not taking that chance.” she leveled the gun she was carrying at you and a loud bang echoed in the room.

You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your face as the realization hit you that you were going to die in the moment. Was this really how it ended? Executed over a case of mistaken identity and a crush on a guy you met at work?

You waited and waited for the bullet to strike but you didn’t feel any pain. Maybe she shot you through the head and didn’t even get a chance to feel the pain. Maybe your brain was stretching out these last couple of seconds of your life. Maybe you were already dead.

Then you heard more loud bangs and your eyes snapped open. You were still in the warehouse. You weren’t dead! But then what--

You looked up and saw that Sylus and the pretty girl from the arcade were there. The three people who had kidnapped you laid on the floor, whether they were unconscious or dead was unclear. There was a tiny clink of metal and you saw a bullet fall to the ground and roll towards your feet. Had it just stopped halfway?

“You check her, I’ll get these guys.” the girl said and leaned down to check the kidnappers for a pulse. You really needed to learn her name at some point.

You felt the restraints holding you loosen and fall. Sylus walked over and knelt down in front of you. “You alright?”

“I…” without the restraints keeping you up you fell forward. Sylus caught you and sat you down on the ground. You relaxed into his arms, taking several deep breaths to still the shaking. “Sorry. What happened? How did you know I was here?”

He held up your purse. “You forgot this in my bike. I turned around to run it back to you and saw a van careen away from the apartment building. When I went up to your apartment the door was open and the inside looked like it had been ransacked. So, I called in some back up and found where that van had taken off to.”

“She a co-worker of yours or something too?” you asked.

“We actually operate on opposite sides of the law.” he shrugged. His gaze went to the flower on the floor. “What was this for?”

Your face burned. There was too much going on right now.

“Honey bee,” he turned your face to his, “Why did they kidnap you?”

“They thought I was your girlfriend. They wanted to ransom me back to you.” you said. “And the flower…I coughed it up.”

“You have--”

“Yes.” you almost wished the bullet had killed you so you didn’t need to have this conversation. “We don’t need to get into it.”

“Hanahaki is nothing to be embarrassed about.” he said. He glanced over at the girl who was stepping away to make a call for backup to come arrest the kidnappers. Sylus looked back at you, talking quietly. “I had it too.”

“Really?” you should have guessed as much considering how much he seemed to like this girl.

“I was coughing up bleeding hearts for months.” he sighed. “They’re small but still not fun to constantly be coughing up flowers.”

“You said you ‘had’ it. Does that mean pretty girl finally returned your feelings?” you could feel an entire bouquet of flowers about to erupt from your throat just thinking about it.

“No.” Sylus answered.

Your eyebrows shot up on your forehead. “Then, you got the surgery?”

“Also no.”

“Then what happened?”

“I…” he held you a little tighter, “I started coughing up pink peony petals instead.”

“Hanahaki can just change flowers in the middle of the disease?”

Sylus shook his head with a dry laugh. “No. As far as I am aware, the flowers are individual to the person the unrequited love is for.”

“Then who is it that you…” realization and a spark of hope started to rise in you.

He gave you a small smile. “I think we have a lot to talk about, honey bee.”

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.