#mistress sex chat

[daydreaming-nerd]

for the bat boys (or bat boys x feyre), I really wanna see rhys just tied down, desperate, and overwhelmed with pleasure. like everybody just decides to show their high lord some love!! I wanna see rhys in tears (in a good way), and they just praise him and love on him so good!! I can def see rhys having a major praise kink. feel free to ignore tho, thank you!!💖

Our Girl (Bat Boys! x Female! Reader) 

Based off this ask as well

AN: HAHAHA guys I’ve been reading The L.O.R.D.S series by Shantel Tessier and I’ve been fucking loving it. Also I wrote the second half of this in a fucking Barnes and Noble cafe, I was SWEATING, but I wanted to get it done for you because I have some cool Az stuff I’m working on for you!

Summary: When Rhysand becomes High Lord the boys find themselves too busy and too well known to visit their local pleasure house. So they hire the reader to to satisfy their needs.

Warnings: Smut (shocker),sub/dom dynamic, dirty talk, bondage, threesome, objectification, size difference??

Word count: 6,058

Things in Velaris were changing. The second the new High Lord rose to power it was like things were lighter. Shops stayed open later, the people laughed and drank at dinner more often, everything was just better. Yet in the Riverhouse at the edge of the city it seemed there were clouds stirring, in a metaphorical way of course. 

No one had seen Rhysand since the night his father died, which was months ago. 

The most powerful High Lord.

The most dangerous High Lord. 

The most handsome High Lord

And known by the girls at the pleasure house…the most well endowed High Lord.

At least what all my coworkers were whispering around me the day I was brought to the front by the mistress who ran the place. In all honesty I thought I was in trouble, not that I had done anything wrong in the past year I had been here. But no one ever got called to her office for nothing. 

I closed the door behind me to where my mistress was reading a letter, a violet wax seal stamped to the front. Her red hair and red gown complimented the scarlett of her office, of the whole pleasure house really. She claimed it was the color of passion, and demanded that we all practically bathe in it. 

“You asked to see me?” I say timidly. 

I couldn’t afford to lose this job, I had no family, no support system. Nothing to rely on or depend on. Sure it wasn’t the most prestigious career, but I did like it. I had always been interested in sex, fascinated with it really. The woman who lived next door to my family growing up was a sex worker. She always wore the most beautiful gowns and jewels, and lured the most handsome men to her home. My mother cursed me when I said I wanted to look like her one day but I didn’t care. 

“Yes I have a letter here, from the High Lord,” she says, showing me the letter she had been reading when I walked in. 

My eyes widen and the air is sucked from my lungs. What could the High Lord want with the house? Hell, what would the High Lord want with me? 

“The High Lord?” I gawk, taking a step forward attempting to catch a glance at the letter. 

She puts her glasses back down on her nose and reads the paper again, “yes, he asks that I send my very best girl to his townhouse at my earliest convenience.” 

“And you’re picking me?” I ask, my eyes wide. 

“You rake in more money than all the rest of the girls, you’re beautiful, elegant and well versed. I can think of no one better.” she explains setting the letter down on the desk.

My mind swirls, what does the High Lord want? Well sex of course, but I wasn’t one for house calls. Though I suppose he was the High Lord , he couldn’t very well walk in here with the anonymity that others could. 

“Well don’t just stand there!” my mistress shouts. “Go to the townhouse before he thinks me to be a simple fool.” 

I jilt from my thoughts and nod, walking briskly out the door. I bypass the other girls who are chatting about the High Lord and I wonder if any of them are aware of the letter that was sent, what his intentions might be. I guess there’s only one way to find out. 

I had watched the townhouse on the hill my entire life, knew that the High Lord lived there, and constantly wondered what it might be like inside. It was like the scary house at the end of the street that children stayed away from; it had been built up to that mythical status. Except it wasn’t scary—unless you counted scarily prestigious.

As I walked up the front steps and knocked on the door a woman with dark skin and   darker hair opened it and signaled for me to come in. The lush, thick, carpets gave reprieve to my aching feet. Stilettos on cobblestone was never a good idea, but what else did one wear to meet their High Lord? 

She gestured to a set of double doors at the end of the hall. I took in my surroundings, for what it was worth the place was beautiful. Ornate but tasteful. Expensive but lived in. I can see why the High Lord never left. I took a deep breath but before I could even knock on the doors a deep voice, one that could only be described as Night Triumphant, beckoned me to enter. 

I creaked open the door to find the High Lord busily doing paperwork at his desk. He was nothing and everything that I had expected. When the girls at the home whispered of his looks, his charm, I thought of something mythical. But the male before me? He transcended even that. 

His legendary violet eyes flitted up to mine and I swore my breath caught in my throat. He sat his papers down to the side as he stood, bracing his hands on his desk. If his height didn’t make me feel small the sheer power radiating off of him did. 

“My, my,” he croons, rounding the desk to lean against the front. “You are exquisite,” he says, crossing his strong arms in front of his chest. 

I suddenly remember the reason I was summoned here in the first place and I put on the mask, the role I was supposed to play. 

“Well my Lord, you asked for the very best.” I say smoothly taking two steps towards him. “So here I am.” 

“While I love the way ‘my Lord’ rolls off that pretty tongue, feel free to call me Rhysand, you’re going to be here for a while.” he smirked, and I swore there was a star that flashed in his eye. 

I nearly gulped at his words. 

You’re going to be here for a while…

I had been with needy men before, made a career out of it. But this was no man, and I wondered if I could keep up with him. 

“As you wish,” I say nodding my  head obediently. Males like him strived for dominance, it was my job to anticipate that. 

I feel a hand tilt my chin up and once again I’m met with his intense gaze. I was right about the stars, his eyes were littered with them. 

“The selfish part of me wants to play with you right now, but I have a feeling my brothers would be more than angry at me for having you first,” he smirked, his breath so hot on my face I almost jumped when I realized how close he was to me. 

Wait, the High Lord didn’t have brothers, he was an only child, an orphan really. “Brothers?” I ask, the question had slipped out before I could think of a better more professional way to ask. 

“Well not my biological brothers, but my brothers in arms I suppose,” he smirks, releasing my chin taking a step back towards his desk again. “Cassian, the general of my armies and Azriel my spymaster.” 

My breath gets caught in my throat. I had heard stories of the High Lord’s most trusted members of his court. They were large, Illyrian, and death on swift wings. My face must’ve given away my shock as Rhysand let out a low chuckle. 

“Don’t worry they won’t hurt you. They are to care for you as I do, it’s all written here in your contract,” he explained, sitting down and sliding a piece of paper over the desk. 

I made myself comfortable in the seat opposite of him, plucking the paper from the desk and skimming it over.

“You see,”  he begins. “Becoming High Lord has been rewarding but…well…tiring. Cassian and Azriel are just as tired. We aren’t given the same anonymity we had in our youth which has made finding sexual release difficult.” he said, his cheeks blushing slightly. 

“You’ll live here, I already have a room prepared for you. I’ll provide you with a salary  and provide for you in any way you need. In return you provide us with your…services?” he says the last word like he can’t think of a better way to say it. How is he sexy reading my contract to me?

I set the contract on the desk, “And what are the parameters of these services?” I ask leaning forward on the desk. 

Rhysand smiles leaning forward with me, “Mostly we will seek you out on our own but there will be certain times, like tonight, where we will want to share,” he grins like he can already see the scene. 

I nod slowly waiting for him to add anything else and he does. 

“Of course there will be safewords, though I doubt you will need them. Your mistress said you have a rather large palette,” he says and I get his meaning immediately. 

I can’t help but blush, the male already knows more about me than I do him. Something that rarely ever happens in my line of work.

“She didn’t mislead you,” I say, my lips tugging into a small smile. 

“Then you’ll take the job?” he asks plucking a fountain pen from its resting place. 

I look at the large number with lots of zeros written under ‘Salary’, it’s more than I make in three months. I could pay off all my debts with the first two paychecks, and after that? Well the shops of Velaris wouldn’t know what hit them. I could have the life I always dreamed of, expensive silks, fancy soaps, wine aged for thousands of years. And all I had to do was sleep with the three most powerful males in the Night Court. What female could possibly say no?

“I will,” I say, plucking the pen out of the High Lord’s hands singing the marked places next to his ornate signature. 

I look up to see Rhysand already staring at me, with a lust I hadn’t seen before, not in any male. How long had it been since he had sex?

He stands holding his hand out to me, “Allow me to show you to your room.”

“Are you ready to meet them?” Rhys asks with a glint in his violet eyes. 

I nod.

“Good I’ll go preface in, come in when I call you,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow. 

Gods this man was incredible. Paycheck aside, I think I would bend over backwards just to hear him call me a good girl again. Something told me I would be doing just that for the foreseeable future. 

Rhysand opened the double doors and slipped in, the moment he closed it I pressed my ear to the door so that I could hear him. 

“Rhys what’s this about? I have business to attend to,” I hear a deep voice rumble. 

Rhys’ signature chuckle echoes off the walls, “I assure you Cassian that this is well worth your time.” he says. “Az you look tense,” he jests. 

“That’s because I am.” groans another voice. “We’ve been running all around the court righting all wrongs while you sit holed up in here doing paperwork.” 

“As I am well aware,” Rhys starts again. “And I don’t want to be known as the High Lord that merely takes, especially from the two males  I consider to be my brothers. So, I got you a little gift.” 

A pause of anticipatory silence fills the room. 

“Darling won’t you come out now?” Rhys beckons me. 

I open the door to find Rhys standing before two Illyrians sitting on the couch, both of them relaxed like this was their own home, and perhaps it was. 

“Huh?” asked the slightly larger one, with longer black hair. 

“She’s your gift, well, our gift,” Rhys said, pulling a hand around my waist. “I just hired her from the pleasure house in town, she is the best of the best. I know we all haven’t been able to visit the establishment since I came into power and I’m sure you’re both just as…frustrated as I am.” 

“How long do we have her for?” the same Illyrian asked, the one beside him seemingly more quiet. 

“She will be living with us. Use her as you’d like. Dress her however you want, but keep it classy. She’s as much yours as she is mine” Rhys smiles tilting my chin to meet his gaze and I swore my knees trembled a bit. “Though I’m sure she’ll remember who pays her?” he teases. 

“Yes my Lord,” I say seductively, it used to be an act, but not anymore. 

“My Lord,” he repeats. “I quite like the sound of that,” he purrs, looking over to the males sitting on the couch. 

The one with the red siphons smirks, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and spreading his legs. His thighs alone were the size of my head and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to get myself off on them alone. 

“Come here princess, sit on my lap,” he purrs, patting his thigh. 

I slip out of Rhysand’s grasp and pad over to perch myself on the Illyrians leg. The rippling muscles under me tensing. His hand comes up to brush a stray hair from my face as he takes in every inch of me. 

“You are a pretty little thing aren’t you?” he smirks as his other hand comes to support my back. 

Oh I was in for it, I was so in for it. 

“She’s the best of the best, her name is y/n.” Rhysand drawls watching intently as his brother who I have deciphered is Cassian, inspects me. “We decided earlier that her safeword will be starlight,”

“Y/n, huh?” he smiles brushing a stray hair from my face as he drinks in my attire, something Rhysand had clearly purchased for me to wear tonight. A black sheer little nightgown. Revealing, yet classy like he has said. It was clear to me that the male had exquisite taste. 

I feel a warm leather bump into my back as a scarred hand runs over my shoulder. I crane my neck up to find Azriel standing above me, from where he stands he can no doubt get a great view of my tits. 

“How should we thank dear old Rhysand for this marvelous present?” Cassian asks Azriel and the shadow singers eyes gleam.

“Oh I can think of a few ways,” he smirks. 

As if they all had one mind we were winnowed to the bedroom upstairs, my bedroom I realized. The bed had been made big enough for all of us, and I wonder how empty it would feel when the boys weren’t around. 

I look around me, the positions of us all haven’t changed. I find myself gazing up at Azriel, the hungry look in his eye has me taking a step back only to bump right into Cassian earning a chuckle from the general.  A glace to my bed has me seeing Rhysand sitting on it’s edge. 

“Az,” Cassian mumbles, sharing a knowing look at the shadow singer.

Before I can put together the pieces of Cassian and Azriel’s interaction, bands of shadows shoot from all over the room wrapping themselves around the hands and wrists of the High Lord. Rhys struggles for a moment, like it's second nature before he gives in, his face stern. 

“Az that’s enough,” he scowls. 

Azriel brushes off the command and turns my chin to meet his gaze. His finger brushes over my  bottom lip and I close my top lip over his thumb, giving it a gentle experimental suck. His eyes darken and the next thing I know I’m sucking on his thumb and looking at him like a doe eyed fool. 

“What a good girl she is,” he croons before dragging my face to him, replacing his thumb with his lips. 

His kiss and deep and searing, like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. His hands come to cup my face, keeping me there as he kisses me like a starved male. Gods, how long had it been since any of them had sex?

My hair is pushed to the side as I feel the general begin to leave sloppy kisses on my neck. He pulls my hips toward him, and I’m met with his hard on pressed to my back and his bare chest warming my skin. Azriel steps back with love drunk eyes and Cassian takes his opportunity to turn my hips so I’m facing him. 

Somehow he’s even more hulking and intimidating when bare. My eyes glance over the expanse of well built muscles to where his cock is already hard and leaking, and by the size of it I could tell I would be sore tomorrow. 

From behind me I can hear the faint unclasping of buckles signaling that Azriel is mimicking Cassian’s movements. 

“Let’s see you now, little one,” the general smirks before sliding both straps of the see through the gown off my shoulders. The black mesh falls to a pool of fabric on the floor and I’m laid bare for him, for all of them. 

A snap reverberates through the room pulling my attention to Rhysand, his sophisticated garb now long gone. The plains of his toned muscles and swirling tattoos that resemble his brothers on full display along with his aching cock. He’s even more marvelous nude than he is clothed. His lips tug up at the corner as he sees me eye fucking him. 

Cassian’s hand goes under my bare breast bringing my attention back to him, it seems that while I was ogling Rhys, he was studying me. 

“Rhys you’ve outdone yourself,” Cassian smirks and I’ve never felt so exposed. “Her tits are perfect,” he smiles before bending down to suckle an aching nipple into his mouth. 

I moan and lean back ever so slightly into a muscled chest, when I open my eyes Azriel stares down at me. A scarred hand drifts over my shoulder, down my side, and across my bum until it cups my sex and I gasp. 

Cassian’s lips smile against my breast before he moves on to the next one, my breath catching in my throat once again. 

“So small,” Azriel teases, referring to my cunt. “I’m not sure she can take us.” The glint in his eye tells me that this is a challenge, a test. 

“I can,” I say confidently and the shadowsinger laughs. 

“I think I’ll test that out,” Cassian grumbles, taking me in his arms. 

I’m pulled from Azriel’s fiery touch as the warmth of Cassian seeps into me. For the first time in a while my eyes snap to Rhysand. His brow was laced with sweat, as well as the skin on his chest. 

“Oh poor Rhys, did you want to touch her?” Azriel taunted, I was honestly surprised that they would dare to put their High Lord in this position. 

“Please,” Rhysand whimpered, making my heart lurch. 

Did  the most powerful High Lord, the most dangerous High Lord. the most handsome High Lord, the most well endowed High Lord… just beg? 

A sudden boost of confidence fills my chest. 

“Az pull him back on the bed, I’m going to be needing some room,” Cassian boasts massaging circles on my hips. 

Rhysand is pulled to the headboard, the shadows on his wrists pulling his arms out to either side as well as the ones on his ankles, preventing him from getting any sort of friction. The High Lord cursed, as if the brief fiction on his balls from being dragged across the sheets might’ve been enough to get him off.  The logical part of me knew that he could break free of these restraints at any given moment, hells the power practically radiated off of him. But he was here to play the game and I was too. 

“Why don’t you go play with your High Lord a little bit sweetheart,” Cassian croons, clearly loving the power trip he’s on. I take two steps forward before the general grabs me by the throat hauling me to his chest again. I look up at him like a love sick fool. “But stay clear of his cock. He’ll be the last to cum tonight. Doesn’t that seem fair Az?” 

“Seems more than fair to me, seeing as we’ve been doing all the flying around these past few weeks,” Azriel chuckles. 

Cassian releases my throat and I make my way over to the breathless High Lord. It takes everything in me not to straddle him and take him right there. His cock was red, angry, practically begging for it.

I sit on the edge of the bed to his right giving him my best bedroom eyes. Gone was the cocky male from earlier who made all sorts of promises of bedding me the best. Instead a male stripped to his most vulnerable sat before me, chest heaving, eyes wild. The muscles of his arms and legs flexing and bulging from trying to break free of the shadows that bound him, the bindings that made him this way. 

“They aren’t being very fair to you are they?” I say seductively trailing a hand down his shoulders, over the plains of his chest and to his abs. 

He shudders under my touch, “no they aren’t,” he breathes. 

“Mmm,” I hum, placing a kiss on his neck, even the thin sheen of sweat on him tasted divine. “And you were so nice, sharing your little fuck toy with them and now they won’t let me play with you,” I say donning a fake sadness. 

My hand brushes over his hip bone and down his thigh, carefully avoiding the hard erection begging to be brushed. 

“Please,” he whimpers his lips hot on my cheek, and I swear I hear Cassian and Azriel chuckle behind me. 

My hand swoops to his inner thigh, teasing the muscles there. His whimper has me caving, and I feel as though I’m suddenly not acting of my own accord as my hand wanders towards his cock. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” I hear Cassian tut before scooping  me into his arms and pulling me away from Rhys. Causing the latter to groan in frustration. 

“Using daemati to get a female to jerk you off? That’s a new low for you, Rhys.” Azriel chuckles 

Daemati. That would explain why I didn’t feel like I was in control for that one moment. I had heard that the High Lord possessed such powers, but I thought they were simply myths. 

I feel myself being bent over the storage bench at the end of the bed, the cloth covered fluff cushioning my knees and hands as I feel a harsh slap to my bum. 

“Fuck this is going to be so good,” Cassian murmurs from behind me. 

Azriel stands at the other end of the bench fisting his cock but before he can speak Cassian enters me. 

“Oh Gods!” I scream as I feel myself being pushed forward on my hands. 

The stretch of the general filling me so completely had me wondering if Azriel was right about my ability to take them all earlier. Cassian’s hands come to pull me down onto him, as if he needed the help to fully sheathe himself. One hand on my lower back, one on my hip.

“Shit she’s so fuckin’ tight,” Cassian groans as he begins to rock into me.

“Please, please,” Rhysand begs from his spot on the bed. 

I don’t even bother to see the new beads of sweat dripping from his brow, the drops of precum leaking out of his painfully hard cock. Hell, I can’t even think about anything other than the feeling of Cassian picking up the pace behind me. 

“Shh Rhys, I’m enjoying this tight little pus,” Cassian groans, tightening his hold on my hips. 

My arms are starting to go limp when Azriel’s hand tilts my chin up so he can see my fucked out face. 

“Open your mouth little one,” he says, fisting his cock and I obey like a puppet on a string. “What a good girl,” he smirks before tapping his cock on my outstretched tongue. 

“Fuck her mouth Az,” Cassian groans doubling down on his thrusts behind me. 

“You’re such an obedient little thing, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.” he croons before thrusting his cock inside my mouth. 

The general’s relentless hammering shoves Azriel’s cock down my throat in perfect tandem and I start to wonder if there are other females who have found themselves in my position. With the way they fuck both ends of me so efficiently I wouldn’t doubt it.

It isn’t until my drool is falling down my face mixing with my tears that Azriel grips my hair forcing me down on his cock more. The male became more needy than he had been all night as his soft grunts filled the room. My eyes flitted to his hazel ones and a self satisfied smirk crossed his face. 

“You like this don’t you? You like being fucked in both your little holes?” He teases me, pulling my hair harder. 

His words have me whimpering around him and curling my toes. The spymaster was right, I loved this. That I could make these males, the most powerful in the Night Court, so feral, so unhinged. 

Cassain chuckles behind me slapping my ass again, “Too bad we don’t have someone to fuck this third hole back here,” he says taunting Rhys as I feel him trace a finger over that said third hole. 

“Fuck,” Rhys hisses from where Azriel has him restrained, watching the show they’re giving him. 

I feel my legs starting to tremble beneath me and as they start to give out Cassian swipes both hands under my hips to keep me upright. So upright my knees don't even touch the bench anymore allowing him to fuck me harder, deeper, and faster.

“You going to cum little one?” Cassian taunts me, picking up the pace a bit. 

My whine is enough to have Azriel slamming his hips into my face, spilling himself down my throat as my nose brushes the hair at the base of his cock. For a moment I can’t breathe at all, as I feel his seed spill over my tongue. When he pulls out I finally take in a deep breath, which is short lived as he grabs my chin forcing me to meet his gaze again. 

“Swallow,” he orders. 

I do as I’m told, feeling the thick white ropes slide down my throat, warming my stomach. 

His thumb tugs my jaw down forcing my mouth open as he makes sure every last drop is gone. When he’s satisfied he closes my mouth and gives my cheek a light slap, “good girl.” he mutters. 

“Finally,” Cassian breathes and I feel my front being shoved into the cushions on the bench before me, allowing Cassian to drive deeper. It seems his brother's use of my mouth was quite the inconvenience for him.

I make eye contact with Rhys who's painting and sweating. Moans and curses fall from his lips as he watches Cassian take me hard. It’s not long until I’m cumming around his cock.

“Oh gods!” I scream feeling my legs shake and the knot in my stomach unwind as I cum all over the general’s cock. 

Cassian growls, deep and primal, before delivering one last thrust, spilling himself into me, “That’s a good girl. Take it, take all of it.” he groans, forcing my body down. 

As the Illyrian pulls out of me I can feel my heart beating in my throat and in my head. My chest rises and falls in time with my shaking legs. But I know I’m not done, not while Rhysand looks at me like I’m water and he’s been wandering the deserts of summer for too long.

“You were so good, Rhys,” Cassian taunts, running his hand down the High Lord’s leg making his chest rise faster. “We just wanted to thank you for your wonderful gift, didn’t we Az?” 

Azriel nodded next to me, his scarred hands pulling me up  by my shoulders and then  hoisting me up by my thighs so my back was to his front. The position was more than awkward, but as he placed me on his High Lord’s shaking lap I understood why. 

“Make him feel real good princess, we love our Rhysie,” Azriel laughs upon seeing Rhys breath picking up. Despite his words he kept his restraints on the Lord, one last test. 

I place my hands on his chest, the skin there cold and clammy, and I can’t help but want to feel more. His eyes are blown out, and I feel as though he’s looking right through me. He’s a vision like this, maybe even more so than when he was sitting behind his desk looking like sheer power. He was vulnerable here. 

I run a hand down his face like I’m unable to help it and his eyes widen, “So handsome my Lord,” I breathe. “What do you want from me?” I ask as I press my lips to his.

He can hardly kiss back, can hardly even think besides anything but the need. Beside him his brothers run a hand through his hair and whisper praises to him, trying to bring him back. 

“Anything p-please, t-touch me,” he whimpers and I swear I see a tear roll down his face.  From not being touched at all, to being touched everywhere but where he needs most, the High Lord was being pushed to his limits. 

“Yes my Lord,” I whisper before sinking myself on his cock. 

Where Cassian was thicker, Rhysand was long, digging so deep into me that I felt a pinch as he brushed my cervix. The pain bringing me back from the fuck out haze the spymaster and the general left me in. 

Rhysand hissed low, “Oh fuck yes,” he groans pushing his head back on the headboard. 

Cassian’s hand comes up to brush the fallen hair and sweat from his High Lord’s head, “She’s a tight little thing isn’t she?” he asks, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

I splay my hands across Rhys’ chest, trying to give myself the leverage needed to bounce myself up and down on his cock. The slow drag of him inside of me has me scrunching my eyes shut trying to savor every sensation. My shaking legs make it hard to move myself up and down. 

“More, p-please,” Rhysand groans, his voice dropping deeper and starting to resemble the tone I heard this afternoon. 

“Az give her a hand,” Cassian instructs from where he sits by Rhys. 

I feel Azriel settle in behind me, his warm chest bumping against the clammy skin of my back. His hands lift my hips helping me to bounce up and down like I’m nothing but a cocksleeve. The motion makes me gasp and writhe as I’m able to settle to a faster and more stable pace. 

“Oh fuck Az,” Rhysand bites out. “I can’t,” he groans and I watch the muscles of his chest and arms go taut as he pulls on the shadowy bindings that keep him from touching me. 

The strain in his arms and chest is so great that I can see each individual muscle the Lord had built through the years. I couldn’t help but run my hands over him feeling each one. 

“Let him go Az,” Cassian instructs the shadowsinger and within seconds the bindings are gone, like even Az wanted to see what his High Lord would do next. 

Rhysand’s hands fall from the headboard and find their way to my hips. Turns out him not being able to touch me was a punishment for both of us. He shifts his hips so I fall forward, and he connects his lips to mine as he thrusts up into me, putting me at his mercy.

He consumes my mouth fully, running his hands up and down my sides greedily before squeezing my breast making me moan into his mouth. The way he kisses me tells me that I’m no longer in charge and neither is anyone else in this room for that matter. 

His lips detach from mine and fall to my neck leaving opened mouthed kisses there. His hands leave bruises in the skin of my hips as he slams up into me, his cock hitting my cervix with each stroke, those initial stings of pain becoming pleasure. 

“Oh fuck Rhys,” I moan completely forgetting his title. 

“Say it again,” he growls, his voice dangerously low. “Let them know who owns you!” 

I had completely forgotten about the other Illyrians in the room with us. I glance to the side to find Azriel fisting his cock beside me. When I don’t moan the Lord name again a swift slap comes across my ass. 

“Rhysand!” I cry out, feeling the euphoria of him. 

“Fuck it,” he seethes and before I register what he means by it, my back hits the mattress. 

The new position gives him a new range of motion to piston into me. Somehow he’s able to hit me even deeper this way.  Causing me to let out wanton cries and moans as he fucks me, my polished nails scraping down his back trying to find purchase. 

“Yeah Rhys get it!” Cassian cheers from the edge of the bed. 

The taunt makes the High Lord feral, slamming his hips into me. He’s more animal than man at this point having been teased all night. The near primal growl he lets out has me cumming on his cock, my back arching off the back, my moan guttural. 

My cunt squeezes his cock as pleasure lights up my body like lightning, and it isn’t long until  I feel his hips stutter as he cums inside of me with a groan. 

“Oh fuck yes,” his voice is like gravel as I feel him spilling inside of me endlessly, his seed joining Cassian’s. 

Faintly, through the roaring in my ears I can hear Cassian and Azriel’s grunts as well as they finish. The idea of them getting off to their High Lord cumming inside of me is almost enough to make me beg him to do it again. But as he collapses beside me I feel how spent I truly am. 

Rhys hand comes to brush back my hair from my face as he places a kiss to my temple, “Such a good girl for us,” he says to me before turning to Cassian again, “Go get her a towel and a glass of water.” he orders, clearly re-assuming his role as the High Lord. 

He spends the next minute or so running a hand over my hair as he cradles me to his chest soothing me. My breath starts to slow and I feel a warm towel beneath my legs as Cassian wipes away the mess they both made. Glass touches my lips as Rhys helps me to drink the water brought to me. Whatever I don’t finish he downs in one go. 

“Leave us,” he orders pulling the covers over our cold and clammy bodies. 

“What no post sex cuddles for me?” Cassian laughs, throwing up his hands. I laugh before placing a kiss on Rhys chest, as much as I wouldn’t mind all three of them holding me right now I know who pays my bills now. 

“Fine,” Rhys huffs, throwing back the covers behind me so Cass can slip in. 

I wonder where Azriel will lie, but when my eyes search for him he’s already out the door walking to his own room undoubtedly. Something tells me he’s different from his two brothers, he’s quiet, but the words he told me earlier have me wondering what’s up his sleeve.

Cassian’s arms curl around me, and eventually the three of us fall asleep. But the voice that swims through my head as sleep takes me is Azriel’s.

I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with you…

(This is going to be a series! I think I'll do one for each bat boy! If you want to be tagged let me know and if there's any kinky shit you wanna see let me know in the comments or drop it in my inbox!)

Taglist: @yearninglustfully, @moviesismylife,  @readingislife2006, @bookishbroadwaybish, @danikamariemain,  @winchesterbbygrl

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202, @batboyrhyrhy , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[gulnarsultan]

Hey I was wondering if you could write yandere edward iv of england headcanons with his wife and if they were to have kids

maybe nsfw but only if you feel comfortable

Hello dear. I will do my best. I hope you like it.

Yandere husband Edward iv of England headcanon.

~ Political and alliance marriages were not surprising. Because many high-status people resorted to this path to get more. As a Princess, making a political marriage for your country and people was your destiny from the day you were born.

~ The idea of ​​arranging a marriage between you and the young King Edward, who had just ascended to the throne, was his mother, Cecily Neville. She could not tolerate her son marrying Elizabeth, a widow and a lower-status woman. So she immediately started writing to your family and trying to convince them of this marriage. Soon, the decision was made for you to marry for the good of both countries.

~ At first, Edward was angry, sad and disappointed. Even if he fought with his mother, there was no way back. Even if he married you, he was determined to always love Elizabeth and even make her his mistress. If he had to make a marriage he did not want, then he would not leave the woman he loved.

~ You traveled to England. You had many soldiers, maids, servants and assistants with you. Your robe was really big and magnificent. You had heard the rumors that the king loved a woman. In fact, you were very upset that you had to marry a man who did not love you and was cheating on you.

~ You finally managed to reach England. Everyone was ready to welcome you. You took a deep breath before entering the hall. And you made a promise to yourself. You would never let anyone hurt, upset or humiliate you. The first person to greet and admire you was your future mother-in-law. Everyone was speechless when they saw your beauty. When Edward looked at you, it was as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He looked at you with a few snaifs of forgiveness. He came to his senses when his mother called him and came to you immediately.

~ In fact, your future husband was as handsome as they said. In fact, you accepted that you were lucky in this regard. Edward wasted no time in trying to chat with you and get to know you better. You had lost track of time. Edward was spending all his free time with you. His mother was happy that her son was no longer going to that widow.

~ You got married in a short time with an expensive and fancy wedding. Your wedding dress and jewelry were very expensive and perfect. It was the kind of wedding that would be talked about for a long time. You were known as the most beautiful bride in history. Edward was very gentle on the first night.

~ (Nswf) Edward was never ashamed or hesitant to show affection to you in front of others. He was obsessed with touching you, especially when he was around other people. He really wanted you to get pregnant and carry the proof of your togetherness in your belly. He never neglected to take care of you after sex. He was more dominant and harsh when he was jealous. He likes to leave marks on your body.

~ He likes to spoil you with gifts and acts of love. No one can try to harm you, insult you or humiliate you. You are his precious wife, Queen and the mother of his children. So if someone becomes your enemy, Edward will be their worst nightmare.

~ You have more than one healthy child. Edward is the best father in the world for all of them. He is a protective father for his children. He will not allow anyone to harm his family.

[yamysunmoon]

The Anticipation

Pairing: agatha harkness x rio vidal

Summary: Rio crosses boundaries challenging Agatha's orders, and faces the consequences submitting to a punishment session.

Words count: 3-4k

Warnings: bdsm, specifically d/s dynamic, bondage and mouth mask. Mistress!Agatha, Sub!Rio, Brat!Rio. Oral sex, masturbation.

A/N: I was really looking forward to write agathario fanfics, this is the first but won't be the last. English is not my first language, sorry if there's any mistake.

Requests are open! if you have any suggestions feel free to share

creds to the best editor one could have, @milfsdoll (check out her work she's amazing)

Enjoy!

"Alright, so... We have to do the groceries, purchase clothes because I really need a new coat... Was there something else? There's something I'm missing... That's right, Jen! She texted me, the candle you were waiting for is done" Agatha took a glaze at her right. "Hun? Have you heard me?"

Rio was staring at her with a lost look and a sly smile. She bliked twice as she heard the nickname. "Yeah, okay", she babbled. "Can we stop at the mall the latest? If you don't mind" she suggested in a soft voice Agatha loved. The blue-eyed woman nodded in response and took a short glanze at her, again.

Rio loved mornings like this. At the car with Agatha, watching her drive with her right hand, her head resting on her left hand carefree. She looked so relaxed and had an unbelievable profile side. Rio was admiring her pretty big nose, her long lashes guarding those beautiful breathtaking blue eyes; and her full, soft lips; as the woman was mindlessly listing what they had to do.

"Yeah okay, I don't mind" Agatha said, totally overlooking Rio's intentions. The green witch had something in mind. She couldn't bare having her wife looking that good and not doing something about it.

Over the next half hour they had already done the groceries, put them in the car and were now on their way to Jen's. Rio said she wanted to walk, which surprised Agatha yet she agreed.

They were walking when they brushed hands. They both felt the familiar warmth in their chests, Rio grabbed Agatha's hand making her stop. They shared a gaze, it was clear what Rio wanted. Agatha looked both ways of the street before staring at her again. "Not here".

Rio was smiling softly. "Why not? Who cares, we are free now!"

Agatha smirked, she loved it when Rio celebrated they had overcome their first years of relationship, when they were forced to hide their love and Agatha would always be paranoid about her mother finding out.

Rio took a step closer to her. "We're free now" she repeated and squeezed her hand once. Agatha broke the distance between them giving her a soft kiss.

Rio attempted to deepen the kiss, but Agatha quickly pulled away, a cocky smile gracing her lips. "I said 'not here', doll" she warned her. Rio smiled back and nodded, obedient.

Later at Jen's store, Jen and Agatha were chatting and Rio was supposed to contribute to the conversation too, but she couldn't listen to a single word the women were saying. She just couldn't take her eyes off her wife.

The wide, tucked-in, slightly unbuttoned shirt that she was wearing was driving her insane, and her confident elegant presence and figure had Rio blown away.

"Rio, you haven't said a single word. Is the candle to your liking?" Jen tried to chat. She hummed in response and didn't even looked at her. Jen turned to Agatha. "Is she okay?"

Agatha gave Rio a quick glance. This time, she saw something in her eyes. "Yeah, she's fine". She was lying.

As they left, Rio seemed distracted and Agatha was already suspecting of her. "What was that?" she inquired.

Rio shrugged, pretending innocence. "It was nothing" she lied too. Agatha knew, so she let her be and the seed of expectation was planted.

Already in the mall, Rio started with her plan. She started giving Agatha careless caresses here and there, back and forth, each time she would pass by her looking for the perfect coat. She was subtle at first but Agatha soon discovered her intentions and deliberately ignored her.

Rio gradually lost delicacy and went from carelessly brushing to grabbing her arms as she passed behind her, squeezing twice, talking to her in a soft whisper, "is this what you want?" casually referring to a coat, apparently.

Agatha knew how to control her temper, but Rio was getting to her nerves. At some point, they were at a side of the store where no one was watching them and Rio hugged her from behind and rested her body on Agatha's, going full contact.

Agatha groaned. "Do you really want me to stop, sweetheart?" The green witch asked in a sweet, enchanting tone.

Agatha remained still. Rio lightened her grip and her wife walked away taking Rio's hand, driving her to the fitting rooms without saying a word.

She pushed Rio up against the wall as soon as the cortains were drawn. She grabbed her by her clothes and shortly lifted her off the ground. Agatha's pupils had dilated and were staring deep at Rio's eyes.

Rio was feeling her fists against her skin thriugh her clothes and sly smiled. She had won. She had her full attention now, and had defenitely turned her on.

Agatha slowly approached leaning for a kiss when Rio tilted her head to a side. She looked at Agatha sideways, who was giving her a gaze of disbelief.

They shared a glance, challenging eachother. Agatha lowered a hand to Rio's crotch, but she then pulled her legs together.

Agatha raised both eyebrows, her eyes widened. She took a step back and got her hands off her wife. She was offended. "Are you seriously turning me down right now? After provoking me the whole morning?"

Rio couldn't help but smile mischievously, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall in a cocky gesture. Agatha snorted, outraged.

"Oh, you're in trouble, bratty girl. You. Are. In trouble. We'll talk about this at home" she took a step to whisper, "upstairs".

She walked away before seeing Rio's expression, which was of pure excitement. This is exactly what she wanted from the start.

"Look what you've done. Now you're getting punished" she quietly whispered to herself.

"Can't wait".

Rio was surrounded by almost complete darkness. The only thing that enlightened the room was a squared shaped skylight.

She was in the playroom they had at the attic.

The skylight was pointing to the black king sized bed they had in the middle of the room. It poorly lit up some handcuffs hanging on the headbord and an eye mask. Surrounding the bed there were big closets that kept all kind of sex toys and sex torturing tools.

Rio didn't know what Agatha had planned for her, but she was dying to find out. She had dressed up for the occasion, she was wearing a vaporous green top tied to her back and back of her neck, and a simple yet effective black thong. She was barefoot, feeling the cold floor below her feet. Less means more when it comes to seduce Agatha, it's what she thought.

Rio took a step closer. She ran her fingertips through the satin sheets and closed her eyes as she felt the smooth fabric. She breathed in, the leather smell of the room filled her nostrils. Her whole body shivered with anticipation.

And she stood there, her back to the entrance door, her hands relaxed still in touch with the sheets, her head tilted up, to the skylight, her eyes closed. Breath in, breath out. She was waiting.

Agatha made her entrance a few minutes later. Rio felt the nervousness growing in her stomach. The sound of Agatha's heels was getting closer and closer. She finally closed the gap between them until she found herself right behind Rio. She ran her fingers along her spine.

"Do you know why you're here, brat?"

Agatha's voice was deep, serious and slightly raspy. Rio smiled and tilted her head towards her.

"Have I been bad, perhaps?"

Agatha's right hand was now running along her neck. She grabbed tight and Rio could feel her inditex and thumb on the sides of her neck. Her bodies were brushing.

"You haven't behaved like I needed you to. It's unacceptable".

She was looking at Rio's eyes with irritation and disapproval apparently, but deep down she enjoyed punishment sessions just as much as her brat did.

"I'm willing to pay for my actions, M'lady" she was using her brat voice again, she was mocking Agatha giving her a smirk.

Agatha squeezed harder. "Don't call me that now. I'm your Mistress". Rio gasped and her smile widened, looking psychotic.

"Whatever you say, Mistress".

Agatha nodded now satisfied. Rio looked down to her lips and was about to approach when Agatha stopped eye contact.

It was then when she showed what she was carring with her left hand. She positioned it in front of Rio's eyes, who looked ahead. Her eyes widened as she inmediately recognized the toy. She held her breath for a second feeling her core shrink.

"You were really disobedient before. It really annoyed me". Agatha's voice behind Rio was mesmerizing, and her right hand was now carrissing her chin. "Are you willing to put your voice and complete being at my service?"

Rio was staring at the mouth mask with determination. "I am, Mistress". Her voice shoke with pure excitment.

"Do you know what to do if you can't take it?"

Agatha needed to be sure about Rio's commitment and consent at all times. She wouldn't be able to speak up, so they had non verbal ways of communicating through the session. Rio sure remembered what she had to do, but she couldn't help but giggle, her brat nature overcoming her once again.

"You think I can't take a little ball in my mouth?"

Agatha looked at her from her left and made her tilt her head. "No more games, bratty. Stop it now". Oh, she was pissed.

Rio said no more. Her brat mode was on, she couldn't stop herself. She wanted to take her wife and Mistress to her fucking limit, so that she would take her to the limit. So she just stared at her and raised an eyebrow. She looked at her lips again, so soft and seductive.

Agatha then raised an eyebrow too and gave her a little smirk. Her eyes lit up with a sort of macabre vibe in them, and she stepped back leaving Rio eager.

She stood behind her again. She was running her fingertips all over her nude arms, shoulders and back, giving her goosebumps. Finally she tucked Rio's hair behind her shoulder so her face would be exposed. She took a glanze at her once again, "Open your mouth", she said, before placing the toy.

Rio instantly opened her mouth just wide enough so that the ball could be placed. She couldn't help to close her eyes in pure pleasure as she felt the object, its smoothness and slightly cold sensation.

Agatha took the belts and adjusted them on the back of her head. Rio felt them tighten around her head. The leather fabric was soft to the touch.

"Is it too tight?" The Mistress joyfully asked. Rio nodded, also playing. Agatha knew she was kidding, so she tied it tighter with a determined pull. Rio mouned in response.

Agatha stood again behind her and started running her fingertips, touching her arms, shoulders and hips. She removed the threads that kept Rio's top hanging and unraveled two more on her waist. The piece fell on the black sheets. Agatha heard Rio's gasp.

She countinued touching her very superficially, barely meeting her skin and defenitely not satisfying Rio's desperate need of contact. She was teasing Rio's body with her hands, challenging her, torturing her.

Rio knew she wasn't allowed to move. She was at Agatha's will now. She had to be patience and good so she would eventually give her what she wanted. That was what the whole show back in Jen's shop was about. She teased her earlier because she couldn't bare how much she needed her. So she claimed her attention until it was too much, until she was too bad and had to be punished. Now she'd have to be obedient and compliant. Agatha would reward her later.

At least that's what she was telling herself as Agatha's hands kept touching her in that breathtaking way. She thanked Gaia the ball of the mask had holes, and her heavy breathing invaded the whole room.

Agatha wanted to tease Rio as much as she could but her discipline was starting to fall apart. Rio was trying her best not to move but the goosebumps she was giving her were obvious.

She slowly approached until her lips met the back of Rio's neck. She kissed her skin chastely. Rio almost shook her head, but managed to stay still and instead just hummed.

"Very well" Agatha kissed her again in sign of approbal. "This is exactly how I want you, bratty. Just like this. So good" she kept talking in a calm voice as her kisses went down her spine.

She got on her knees meeting the last piece of fabric that kept Rio for being completely naked. She breathed in, breathing in her scent. She smiled again, she was crazy for that smell.

"Looks like you're ready for me, aren't you?", she looked up. Rio nodded fervently. The brunette was dying to touch Agatha, she sure was. Agatha knew that. That's why she loved how Rio's whole body trembled as she took the black thong' strings and pulled it down.

"Up" she whispered grabbing Rio's right leg. Rio raised it so Agatha could take the string. Did the same thing with the other side. Rio stood up firm again and Agatha took a minute to admire her.

"Oh, how good you look from down here" her voice was still whispers, she was amazed. Rio raised an eyebrow, pleased.

"Spread a little, my bratty" her tone became hardened but still in a whisper as she stood up to take something from a closet Rio couldn't see.

She obeyed, positioning herself as she knew Agatha wanted her to. When Agatha turned around and saw her, her jaw dropped for a moment. She stared at her from where she was, where Rio couldn't reach her, as she played with the toy between her hands.

"Lean on the bed" She bit her lip as Rio did exactly what she said. She could watch her like this all day, spread for her, resting her hands on the mastress, still stood up. Agatha was still playing with the toy, she turned it on. The sound of vibration instantly filled their ears.

Rio recognized that sound at once. She sighed and let out a desperate groan. Agatha's deep laugh was what she recieved for response at first. Then, she reached Rio and stood behind her again and made her wait a little longer before the clit-sucker entered in contact with her body. She first positioned it at her left thigh, so close to her vulva. She moved it around that zone, same thing on her right thigh.

Rio was doing an incredible job holding back. She craved that vibrations just some inches further up, and a little move would place the toy just where she needed it, but she knew that would be silly. She had to wait. Just a little longer...

Agatha knew her lover's body as if it was hers -though it kinda was hers-, she felt her desperation, but she wanted to test her. How much could she take?

This is what she was referring to when she asked earlier. It wasn't physical resistance what intrigued her. She wanted to make Rio go insane, because that's what she deserved for being such a fucking brat.

"This is what you've earned", she kept moving the object impossibly near to where it was needed, yet not reaching that point. "This is what you gain when you disobey my orders, bratty".

Rio would've talked if she could. She knew how to win her with words, she always managed to find a way out. She knew how to seduced her.

But Agatha sure knew how to play that game to.

The Mistress kept teasing her for fifteen torturing minutes. She was dragging the toy from her pubis to her groins, never sucking what it should.

It was in such an intense mood that was actually stimulating Rio's clitoris down her lips, but it still wasn't enough for her. Both could feel Rio's wetness making the toy slip more than once, touching her folds for a second, causing her to tremble and groan.

Agatha could feel Rio's wetness all over the place, soaking her fingers when she slightly touched the zone everytime she moved the toy back and forth. When the toy slipped, she showed no mercy and pushed it away each and every time.

Although it was incredibly difficult to hold on, Rio had enough control on herself to stay still. She had to grab the sheets, groan and heavily breath the whole time - teasing Agatha without realizing-, but managed to keep still.

At some point she started feeling numb, losing her senses. She needed to be released so bad her arms ached and trembled, she was so needy and desperate she started to moan in a different way. Agatha recognized that specific moan. Rio was begging.

Heavily breathing, Rio tried to vocalize her need eventhough she knew she probably wasn't allowed to. She didn't care at this point, she needed to be fucked.

Indeed, Agatha could not understand her but she had a vague idea. She let out a maquiavelic, light cackle.

"Alright beauty, are you gonna behave now?" she finally asked.

Rio nodded eagerly and hummed, and tried to look at her, but couldn't tilt her head just enough. That made her feel even more needy.

"Aw, breaks my heart to see you like this" she mocked her with a touch of pitty in her tone. "You really can't take this any longer, can you?" She turned the clit-sucker off.

Rio furrowed her eyebrows and felt angry and arrogant for a moment, but horniness quickly won the war. Agatha had got closer now so Rio could communicate with her. Still with her eyebrows frown, Rio reached Agatha's arm and squeezed twice.

Agatha smirked and returned the squeeze. "I love it when you give in like this, beauty". Rio snorted in response, making Agatha laugh as she positioned behind her again turning the toy on. "Come on, you love it", she paused, "the anticipation".

Rio heavily breathed in. She was feeling numb again, it was as if Agatha had put a spell on her. It wouldn't be a surprise, tho. She nodded gently, docile.

Agatha was finally pleased. She was very excited too at that point, and couldn't extend this very longer eather. She explored Rio's mound one more time before finally introducing it between her folds.

Rio let out a loud groan as she finally felt the damned toy sucking what it should. "Ough, it was fucking time already" is what she was trying to say with that mask on her mouth preventing her from doing so.

Agatha was holding her by the right hip. She gave her a warning grab. She moved the clit sucker a few milimeters away as Rio whined again. "Don't be a whiny and get on the bed".

Rio crawled to the middle of the bed and stayed in that position, her legs spread and her back curved. Agatha stood on her knees right behind her and started properly masturbating her at last.

Rio groaned, head back and eyes closed. Agatha's right hand positioned on Rio's right hip moved in a way that Rio knew very well. She was letting her swing.

Rio grabbed the sheets and started bouncing her hips against the clit sucker in a profound, firm way. She rested her forehead on the mastress and made her ass go up as her back bend.

Agatha gasped, she started breathing heavinily and she pleased her wife, her bratty beautiful woman, as she watched her get absolutely lost on her pleasure.

The bratty woman started fucking the toy in such a violent, thirsty way. Agatha was playing with the sensations moving it at her will, making it stimulate this or that zone of Rio's vulva, going from her major labia to her clit, to her entrance, spreading her wetness everwhere, enjoying Rio's gasps with every move.

Rio followed Agatha's hand at all times and her hips followed her Mistress rythm. She felt sweat trickling down her thighs, she felt Agatha licking her back. She felt her hands stiffened from gripping the sheets so tightly. And she obviously felt the tension building in her lower stomach and in her cunt. She tried to pull it back again and again, and Agatha smirked at the vision of Rio's way of torturing herself, without her intromision.

She squeezed her hips lovingly, ready to be there for her. "You can cum now, bratty", she said.

Rio didn't thought it twice, she actually wasn't thinking at all. She crumbled down on Agatha's hand, sinking so deep in her yearned enjoyment, feeling those vibrations deep inside her, making her tremble and shake and shudder so hard she couldn't hold her orgasm anymore.

She released a loud, high-pitched moan as she held it, Agatha moving the toy up and down just the right way to extend it as long as possible.

Agatha knew exactly when to put it away, just when Rio was feeling overstimulated. When Rio was finally free, she let herself fall on the mastress, face down, gasping.

Agatha laid next to her and held her whispering praises. She untied the mask and stroke her hair lovingly. She started breathing deep and camly so Rio would copy her, which she did eventually.

Rio moved away a few minutes later, lying face up. Agatha was watching her every moves, resting her elbow on the pillow. Their gazes met, they laughed for a moment. Their laughter faded, Agatha was about to kiss her but Rio talked, with determination.

"I'm ready".

Agatha rewarded her with the sexiest smile before pulling her closer into a deep meaningful kiss. Rio was cought by surprise but instinctively gave in. Agatha grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her up, leaving her leaning against the headboard of the bed. Rio let out a gasp as her head hit the wood.

"What are you going to do to me?" She asked joyfully.

"Nothing you don't desire", was all she said before kissing her passionately.

Rio was barely putting her hands on her when Agatha stopped the kiss to grab the handcuffs hanging above them.

"Ough, Mistress,..." She was about to complain but Agatha glared at her with a warning expression in her eyes. Rio gulped and said no more.

Agatha cuffed her to the bed within seconds. She took advantage of the positions they were in to look at her clothes for the first time. Agatha was wearing a tight deep purple and black corset that lifted her chest and lace black panties. Her High heeled boots went almost to her knees, and these were also black, made of latex.

Rio started feeling distressed as she found herself deprived of moving again. Agatha was on her knees in front of Rio, cupping her beautiful face with one hand. Rio looked at her eagerly.

"I beg of you, Agatha. Mistress... My mistress, please, let me touch you" her glanze went down to her body. She was starving.

As Agatha's panties were black, Rio couldn't tell but she was soaked wet. She knew exactly what she was gonna do to her. She got up on the bed and, leaning against the headboard of the bed with one hand, she lifted one leg and slowly stuck the needle of her boot between Rio's boobs.

"Oh, and i'm letting you, my dear. I'm gonna let you touch me, for sure. Don't you think it's time for you to please your Mistress?"

Rio felt the needle pressuring against her skin. That kind of pain was tickling. Her jaw dropped. "Fuck yeah" she concured, her eyes wide open. Agatha chuckle, arrongantly. She pulled away the boot and started taking off her clothes.

She got undressed with Rio's gaze all over her, greedy. She had the idea of doing it slowly, but after watching Rio cum the way she did, and look at her like that now, she was done playing games. So she took it all off and sat on Rio's lap.

Rio went for her tits without hesitation and let out a moan as soon as the pink hard left nipple brushed her lips. Agatha grabbed Rio's hair and moved it at her will, making her kiss, lick and suck wherever she wanted her to.

She bounced towards her bratty letting her instincts take control. Rio also moved her body towards Agatha, groaning as her hands couldn't reach her beloved.

Agatha kept Rio stimulating her for some minutes, and she would've loved to stay like that for a while, but her body had other plans. The pressure building in her lower stomach was persistent.

"Fuck, I need to sit on your face" she said standing up.

"Do so, then" it's all Rio could say before reciving Agatha's cunt right on her mouth.

She started sucking and licking as if her life depended on it and Agatha rode her without an ounce of mercy. She was bouncing so hard she had to hold on to the headboard of the bed. Taking advantage of her position, she uncaffed Rio with a simple gesture of her hands. Rio was quick to react and grabbed Agatha's ass, pulling her even closer.

Agatha fucked Rio's face for a delightful time. Everytime she was feeling the orgasm reaching her, she slowed her movements. Rio also licked lightly everytime that happened. Then, as she felt more in control, Agatha would speed up again, making herself and Rio go crazy.

They both had a great time playing with Agatha's body that way, to a point in which she wasn't able to contain the pleasure any longer.

She let out a freed loud moan as her cum soaked Rio's lips and chin. Rio still sucked for a little while, while Agatha rode her gently a little longer.

"Fuck, sometimes I don't know when to stop" she admitted in a sigh, getting off her, she sat on Rio's lap. They looked at eachother's eyes.

"I can't get enough of you, M'Lady" Rio said, fearless. Agatha was already gasping and her beloved still wanted to leave her speechless.

"I love you", those were three words she always managed to say, tho. They relied on eachother's foreheads and their noses brushed.

"I fucking love you too, Agatha".

[nocasdatsgay]

Sold

Pairing: Technically Lucien/Reader | Word Count: 1739| Rating M

Summary: Beron buys you for his sons. Specifically, Lucien

Warnings: Family sells reader off to the forest house, Dubious Consent, Loss of Virginity, mildly descriptive sex. Brief physical abuse.

A/N: This is the first in a series where consorts are kept by Beron to keep his sons entertained. You are responsible for what you consume. Also IDK if anyone wants to be tagged so let me know. I am so scared of tagging people on iffy stuff that might be triggering.

Harlots of Autumn Master List | Read on AO3 |Part 1 of Harlots of Autumn

The day you were presented to the court during a ball as an eligible female, was the day that sealed your fate. You were meant to secure a husband and elevate your family’s status just like your cousins. It was harder for you, not being of the Autumn Court. That didn’t mean you couldn’t try. You had begged your aunt and uncle to take you to the next ball and begrudgingly they did. You regretted it when you were watched like an Autumn Hawk by five of the seven Vanserra heirs.

The youngest- he was your age or possibly a little older. He seemed the least intimidating of them all. He didn’t pay you much mind, thankfully. Only chatted with you for a brief moment. You thought that was why his brothers were staring. But you still felt eyes on you as you worked the room, talking up males closer to your station than an Heir of the High Lord. You felt confident in your mingling by the end of the night. Until you went to leave and instead of immediately traveling home, you were pulled into a room by your uncle.

“The High Lord has made an offer for you.” He did not look you in the eyes.

“For me?” You frowned. Your aunt looked solemn and not meeting your gaze either. “What kind of offer?”

“You have to understand, dear. You’re getting older and with the new babe to raise- You’ll be well taken care of.” She said softly.

“I don’t understand.” You mind flashed to the way the heirs' eyes raked over you. How they sneered and watched you all night. “Am I, am I to be betrothed?”

“No. No, you won’t be married.”

You were more confused. “What did he offer you? What does he want with me?” You became more frightened the longer his silence went.

“Being an orphan and from another court, this was honestly the best choice.” Your aunt seemed to speak to herself instead of you.

“What did you do?” Your heart was racing, tears welling in your eyes.

Your uncle finally looked at you. His sadness was palpable.

“He gave us more land- more money than we know what to do with, in exchange for you. For his sons.”

“Sons?” Your were going to be sick. More tears clouded your vision. You knew exactly what that meant. “You gave me up to be a harlot? For some extra land and money?”

“You’ll be taken care of. You’ll be paid handsomely, and have your own money. You’ll be part of the court. It’s a life better than what a male of our station could ever-”

“But I will be a whore!” You cried out.

“You will be a mistress,” your uncle hissed. “This is not a brothel, you’ll be under the protection of the High Lord. You’ll still be able to see us-“

“As I would want to see you after this,” you hissed in return.

He back-handed you for it. You stumbled and cradled your cheek.

“He wants you for his youngest first,” your uncle continued, glaring at you. “You’re lucky he doesn’t want you for himself. If you’re smart you just might become the youngest son’s wife.”

“A whore never becomes a wife,” you whispered.

“This is not a debate. We will go home and pack your things. They want you back here by tomorrow afternoon.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wondered if you could die of shame.

Walking into the Forest House the next day, your aunt made you hold your head high despite your fate. You were ushered down the halls to the infirmary to meet with the healer. Thankfully the healer was female. You were in good health. You held your breath as the female went under your skirts and checked you. You had declined male advances your whole life, waiting like a good female for a husband.

Obviously that got you far.

That evening you were led to a room and bathed by servants. The pine green dress they gave you to put on was worth more than months wages in the village, judging by the fabric. They styled your hair and you avoided looking at yourself in the mirror. More servants brought you food and then finally you were left alone. You couldn’t eat, nausea from nerves rolling your stomach. You wanted to rage; to cry. You knew your aunt and uncle didn’t love you- not when you were the cause of your mother’s death during childbirth. But you never thought they would sell you.

The door opened, jolting you from your thoughts. The kind male you spoke with briefly last night came in. He was just as lovely as the night before; dressed down in a white tunic and brown trousers. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his kind eyes. You stood and curtsied.

“Lord Lucien,” she stared at the floor.

You introduced yourself and stumbled over the title of lady. You didn’t know if you could call yourself a lady now.

“I remember,” he replied softly.

You dared to look up, your eyes meeting his sad russet ones.

“Shall we get this over with?” You glanced at the bed in the room, twisting your hands together.

Lucien scoffed. “We don’t have to do this.”

You frowned, fear flipped your stomach. “They will check me.”

“There are ways around that,” Lucien replied flippantly.

You started to panic.

“Lord Lucien, if you are as kind of a male as you seem, please allow me this comfort.” You pleaded. “I- you seem like you’d be more gentle than your brothers.” You were met with silence. “Please? I don’t want to force you but I also don’t-“ you couldn’t say it.

If he didn’t take your maidenhood, one of the other males would. You doubted they cared whether or not they hurt you badly. Lucien sighed heavily; you wonder if he was realizing the same thing.

“Promise me you will tell me if I hurt you.” You nodded. “Can I undress you?”

“Yes.” Your face heated against your will.

“Turn around. I’ll only take off your dress, then you can get on the bed.”

You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves and turned to face away from him. You heard his footsteps; he stopped behind you and gently brushed back your hair. Goosebumps cascaded down your arms, and he slowly dragged his fingers down your neck to where your dress ties started on your back.

“Oh you’re a devil,” you laughed, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled behind you. “I want to make it good for you, is that not what you asked for?”

“I suppose I did.”

He undid the ties to your dress, the front of it falling forward. You held the fabric close to your chest instead of letting it fall out of instinct. Lucien ran a warm finger up your spine. He leaned in close and you tense your shoulders.

“Drop the dress and get on the bed.” His warm breath fanned along your ear and neck.

Reluctantly, you obliged. The bed was soft, better than the one in the place you once called home. The duvet was a forest green with white sheets underneath. You shuddered at how those sheets would be stained by the end of this. You covered your chest with your arms and sat at the head of the bed.

“Don’t be so shy,” he grinned wickedly at you as he tugged off his shirt.

Your eyes went to his chest, then downward to his trousers before quickly you looked back to his eyes. It felt like your whole face was flushed. He crawled up the bed to you and you could smell his scent sweeten with arousal. He looked like it would eat you alive, the way he grinned at you.

“Lay back, let me see you.” He groaned when you moved your arms, revealing your breasts. “You are a pretty one.”

He pushed you back and crawled over you. You were correct about his gentleness. He was so careful with you, asking you constantly if it was okay to touch you or if it hurt. Lucien coaxed you into relaxing by kissing you gently and then moving down to take your breast in his mouth. He had you squirming under him, your hips rolling against his and his hard cock in his trousers. Lucien moved down further and made you come on his tongue and fingers before he took you with his cock. Then he made you come again with him.

Good was an understatement of how you felt. You didn’t come to your senses until he moved off of you. Then you felt too naked, cold from his lack of body heat over you. You moved to get out of the bed, to grab the dress from earlier, if only to cover yourself before the healers came. You looked back at the sheets and gasped. Lucien was lying on the other side of the bed, arm over his eyes to block out the light. He lifted his arm to look at you.

“Are you all right?”

“The sheets,” you grabbed the dress off the floor to cover yourself. “They’re clean.”

”I don’t know about that. I know I broke a sweat getting that second one out of you.” Lucien grinned at you. “You were pretty wet for me too when I finally fucked you. I’m sure that’s on the sheets as well.”

“There’s no blood, Lucien,” you scowled, cheeks flushing at his blatant crudeness.

He laughed. “Females only bleed when a male doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

”But the healer-“

”Edith won’t care, I promise.” He sat up and looked over the bed for his own clothes. “Let me go get her, I’m sure she’s ready to be done with this as we are.”

Regrettably, that was the first and only time you went to bed with Lucien. You had assumed before that night that you were sent to take his own first time but Lucien was far too experienced for that to be the case. You later found out the real reason you were given to him was because of his dalliance with lesser fae. As crudely put by one of the brothers, they “assumed a high fae cunt would change his mind.”

It didn’t; and a few years later a poor female paid the price for it. You wouldn’t see Lucien again after that for another century.

Part 2

[darkvenus3]

My husband is on a hiking trip with a friend and I’ve had more time to let my mind be in the gutter. I usually ask for sex at least once a week. He’s so busy with his other sluts he only has time for me once a week at the most, and one of them twice a week or each of them once a week lately. However their visits are much more satisfying and lengthy than what I get. He spends a few hours each time, chatting, kissing, getting massages from them, going down on them or getting blow jobs from them, as well as fucking them senseless, filling their pussies, and then fucking them all over again. He leaves them filled to the brim with his cum before leaving, so he tells me. I get 5 minutes of doggy and a vibrator after he uses my wet, needy, pregnant pussy - if I’ve been good. He likes to call me his good little cow, and tells me I have such a fat little pussy now while he pinches my nipples and I hump my vibrator. As much as I love this, ugh, it feels like not enough at all in comparison to what his other sluts get. They get hours of his loving attention. It makes me so jealous, it’s overwhelming, but also my depraved cuckquean mind thinks, what if I stopped begging for sex? Would he even offer it to me? Shouldn’t I stop taking his energy away from his true pleasure? My true purpose should be to be his baby-maker wife, and only to take his cock when he truly needs relief and can’t get to one of his mistresses. How long will he go before he notices that he hasn’t had to please his needy, pregnant cow of a wife for a while? Will he ask about it, or will he just use that extra time to fuck his other mistresses? Either way, it will be fun to see what happens.

[backtobackagainsposts]

Updated 12/7/24

Hi everyone! You can call me Rose, Grace, Mistress, or Doll, whichever you’re feeling 💕

Do not call me baby, babe, or any of its counterparts… it gives me the ick.

I’m a switch, leaning to the sub side.

I’m single but have an active sex life.

I’m 30 and a November Scorpio. My body count is less than 20, more than 10. All of them men.

My ask box is always open. My inbox is a grey area… I will read your messages but there’s a 50/50 chance I’ll reply, and it’s not your fault if I don’t. ♥️

My posts are always able to be reblogged /liked/commented on. That’s the point of posting them… to share lol.

This blog is very sexually themed, but please remember that it’s ran by a real-life woman. My sex drive is high, but I do have off days 💕

My Snapchat is drunkonwater19. I do not chat on snap, only post for your pleasure. Unless you are buying content, there is a 10% chance I reply to a snap. -Snap is essentially dead… Since no one buys content these days, I have no reason to post teases-

More below!

I’m a semi-closeted bisexual femme. My family would disown me, so it’s more of a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ situation with them, though it’s not a secret with anyone else. Because of that, I haven’t dated another girl since I was 16, and never got around to the sex part.

Most of my partners haven’t been into kink like I am, so tumblr has always been an outlet for me. Most of what is on this blog is a fascinating mix of fantasy and reality for what I desire. 😘

I have active been on tumblr since 2011 in both Sfw and nsfw circles. This hellsite is my home.

I have a secondary blog attached to this one. This blog, @backtobackagainsposts is more focused on my submissive side (which is the headspace I normally am in). @domme-energy is my secondary blog, where I show my more dominant side. That blog is less active.

I make custom content, and I’m pretty cheap 😂 I’m self conscious about my body, but I truly enjoy exhibitionism. No one has complained about my content. Why not buy some and see for yourself? Price list available on request!

Check these tags for more of me or about me: #me, #selfie, #mine, #op irl, #my voice

Check these tags for more about my current partners/interests:, #lawyer friend (name/tag may change), #Slvt for Sony, #saga of strawberry shortcake and cream cheese king

Check these tags for more about my previous partners/interests: #French Fry, #tale of st nic

Find my voice here:

Or listen to me cum here:

[that-one-i-think]

Temple Of Menphia Lore!

SO having a character that is a follower of Menphia has resulted in me making a religion from scratch SO HERE IS THE MAIN POINTS OF THE RELIGION FOR THOSE INTERESTED! (Like most of my lore posts, feel free to use. Sharing is caring and all.)

The Temple of Menphia is a religion that focuses battle and justice, with the defining feature being the "Fury of the Righteous". I based a lot of the principles off of Sikhism and partially from the DC Amazonian's. Essentially, based it off of religious warriors. (seriously though, look up Sikhism. Super fascinating)

The temples were established by Menphia as her own way to combat shadow knights. Warriors with a strong sense of justice who are able to combat the rage of shadow knights and channel their own. It is much more difficult for a person who is in control of their emotions to be corrupted than someone dealing with religious shame. Equality and social justice are incredibly important aspects.

An important aspect of the temple of Menphia is injustice collecting. Think of them similar to bounty hunters and cops. Most temples act as a form of Judge, Jury, and Executioner, with locals coming to them with issues and the temples acting as a way to solve problems. Essentially, if a villager cannot get their lords to act on a crime, a temple priest will delegate it instead.

Temples also handle a lot of lord corruption as well. An example of this is a farmers daughter who was the mistress of a lord ending up dead. The farmer asked the temple to investigate, believing it was fowl play. One of the judges (a temple priest who is more skilled with words than battle) investigated and after finding out a Lord was he one who killed her, dispatched justice accordingly.

Unlike the Church of Irene, the Temple of Menphia is incredibly separate from politics. For they need to in order to treat everyone fairly. This also means that Temple Warrior won't join in on a war unless the know that the side they are fighting on is correct. They are for the people, not for a nation.

The temple of Menphia is very open to sex and violence. Menphia was the Divine Warrior of Fury and Passion, so as long as it can resemble a fight, you are set. It is also why tattoos are a part of the religion, it is withstanding pain and coming out on top.

Now onto some flaws about the religion. While being a very open religion, it is very difficult to join a temple. For temple members require years upon years of training, unlike the Irene church. The Temple of Irene is also a temple that isn't really that knowlegeable about science, math, or magicks. They are essentially a church of Lawyers and Warriors, they are focused on social issues and justice. They are taught to read though, but aren't taught many languages beyond Havasi (The Tu'la langauge)

A lot of Menphia followers have an extreme prejudice against shadow knights. When many of the temple warriors have been taught how to kill them since the age of 4, it leads to prejudice. The temple doesn't really do guest well either, they will nurse you back to health but claiming sanctuary isn't really a thing unless you are in genuine unfair danger.

That is all for right now. Again, feel free to use and comment or ask questions. Story building is the best when other people can chat about it.

[gossipgirloff1]

https://mistressemmedi.tumblr.com/post/657899796384907264/makeup-anon-here-im-sorry-i-dont-mean-to-be-a

https://mistressemmedi.tumblr.com/post/658905509731155968/makeup-anon-here-i-have-tales-ive-had-a-wines

admin and anons, have you guys ever read this tea above about some drivers??? It's from 3 years ago but it has interesting things. we can even tell whether some of them are true or not.

About Liam wanting a model gf and allegedly pursuing one while he was on a relationship: likely true. Hannah said on a tiktok last year that her relationship with Liam started in 2022, but they've been chatting on IG since 2020. A gossip account posted old photos that were from Liam's account that showed that he was dating a girl named Charlotte Miller between 2020 and April 2022, Liam's first like on Hannah's posts was in March 2022

Daniel and Heidi: that gossip account "Monger" has a post about their relationship with evidence of him hooking up with other girls while he has been dating Heidi

Max is loyal to his gfs: likely false. There are rumors (most of them with evidence) that he has cheated on every girlfriend he's had The sex is mediocre: in 2023, there was an "exposed" about a Kelly fanpage's admin after the account was taken down. the woman behind the fanpage allegedly told other fanpages that she had gotten so close to Kelly that she'd talk about personal things with her on DMs, like how the sex with Max was boring. worth to mention no one has shown proof that kelly or the admin really said those things, so it's questionable

Charles' friends are scummy guys: several of his friends are Zionists, they made fun of Covid, Antoine has tweets supporting bombing Raqqa in Syria claiming there was no innocents there

Charlotte and the mistress vacancy: Well, after alex became public on IG, a few gossip accounts found evidence that leads people to believe that Charles was interested or was already hooking up with Alex weeks before breaking up with Charlotte

Daniel's trainer is an utter hound: Michael Italiano was training daniel back then, and there has always been rumors he isn't a nice guy. Same about kelly allegedly being rude to staff

what you guys think about these rumors???

[hopepaigeturner]

Hope's Review of S3: Benedict Bridgerton

Again…a bit of a mixed bag in my opinion. But first...

PANSEXUAL BENEDICT? WE GOT PANSEXUAL BENEDICT? (She screeches at her 2020 self who wrote an entire story around that premise then had to fundamentally rewrite it to make ‘canon’). They delivered?!?

And just as before, I liked moments:

“Love is not finite” speech from Eloise—finally some emotional labour from the boy.

His contribution in the club scenes with Will, Colin, and John Stirling.

I actually liked Tilley. The actress really sold their banter and her personality. Also it merely confirms once again that Benedict likes a bossy girl with convictions. *COUGH* Sophie Beckett*COUGH*

The dinner scene where he stumbled over the question about his art. I think all the acting worked really well.

Again Luke T’s acting is really nuanced and detailed with micro expressions and gestures. He really sold scenes, e.g. when he was talking to Tilley about Paul. Kissing Colin? Perfection! All his gestures and background acting once again were golden.

While I felt the swing scene was a little tacked on, I like when he said “There she is..” when Eloise said she wished to change the world. I think it’s a lovely moment to show how Benedict understands Eloise. He knows she just needed time and space to work it out and return.

However, I do feel that the writing this season, like Benedict himself, felt…lost. No real coherency, no real consistency from prior seasons.

While it was awesome to get pansexual Benedict, if that was the ending then why not have him build a relationship with another man rather than Tilley? While Benedict does sleep around his track record has not been casual--he typically takes one mistress each season, and one that he has a genuine connection with.

If you want to give a storyline justice, have more than one conversation with Paul to show why he’s attracted to Paul. Why stuff it all into one episode? Why make it focus solely on sex?

There are numerous hints about him being the next season. And from that perspective I don’t think this storyline really contributed to that.

E.g. I don’t think we’ve really explored the whole ‘second son thing’ at all.

For me there was a lack of consistency about him & emotional labour. Where was his relationship moments with his siblings? With Francesca?

Apart from one dinner scene we do not get any mention about art. No comment from family about it. No comment from himself. No deflection or even topic arising. And maybe people say the dinner scene is enough, but we literally see no reaction from Benedict after having his heart crushed last season.

All I’m worried about is that they might unveil all this complexity about Benedict (e.g. second son thing) and viewers are gonna be like. Where did that come from?

And it would have been so easy to add this stuff in-literally just an expression or a sentence.

E.g. Second son thing.

Take the scene in Will's club when they're passing around the drink. And Colin says "Are you not the happiest you've been [being adrift]". While Benedict's reaction is funny, I would have loved the camera to linger just a moment longer and show the smile slip. He says this is the happiest, but in actuality?

A couple sentences, even a joke from him or a family member, about him handling the estates. Being the ‘backup’ while Kanthony goes on holiday.

In that convo with Paul and Tilley in bed, why not have Paul crack a joke about second sons?

E.g. Emotional labour.

Why not have him have a chat with Francesca about John. Or a chat with Francesca before her debut. Or hey? Maybe just actually have him interact with his family? The moments when he did were so good!

E.g. Art & Art School

Have Anthony ask about art school, have someone make a comment. And have Benedict just brush it off—his smile a little larger than his usual ones… (and have it in an early episode). Not only would this show how Benedict does not like getting into conflict. Not only does it hint at the pain about art school that will be delved into during his season. But it also shows the front he puts up with his family.

Literally. One. line. One extra exchange.

If you’ve got time for countless other subplots, you’ve got time for a small exchange to help set up your next lead.

But all in all, I’m not fully despairing. I’m just wary for next season. And in the meantime? I've got two years to finish An Offer from an Avid Reader so I'll just lose myself in that.

And do you know what pansexual Benedict also means? A bonus?

Solidifies my head canon of Sophie and Benedict being the artsy, bohemian couple that hosts soirees for all their friends of varying classes and sexualities. Using all that privilege and hoarded Bridgerton wealth to create a refuge for their friends.

[airgiodslv]

I chatted with a friend about how to share fanworks on Tumblr, and she suggested it might be too much to share them in individual posts, so here's a monthly wrap-up instead. I'm including late March, because I rewatched KinnPorsche over spring break and it jumpstarted my creativity.

Wikubus, Kim/Chay, rated T

Chay knows that summoning a demon is a bad idea. He knows, okay? There are countless media depictions of what happens when someone decides to bargain with their soul. It never ends well.

It’s just.... There have been a lot of rumors popping up lately in the fan spaces Chay frequents. Comments that suggest Chay’s pop music idol Wik might secretly be a demon.

Specifically, an incubus.

Mafia Wife, Porsche & Chay, background Porsche/Kinn & Kim/Chay, rated G

“Hi, Hia,” Chay chirped. “I’m your backup.”

Porsche was here tonight to meet with a crime boss who’d been cutting into the minor family’s profits. He couldn’t imagine Chay being appropriate backup.

“I have bodyguards,” Porsche reminded him. True, they were Gun’s people. He and Kinn trusted them about as much as they trusted rival crime bosses, but they were trained. They had guns.

Chay had better not have a gun. Porsche gave him a once-over, then squinted. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

bring you to your knees, Kim/Chay, rated G

Kim’s free arm is around his waist, his chest warm down the length of Chay’s spine. They’re pressed so close together that Chay can feel it when Kim huffs out a laugh.

“I thought you wanted to see the cover photo. It’s okay, I cleared it with the magazine. You can look.”

“I can’t,” Chay says, “or I will die.”

Mafia Mistress, Porsche & Kim, rated G

“For the record,” Porsche said, “I’m very uncomfortable with this.”

Beside him, Kim tilted his chin up to give Porsche a withering look. “Do you want to talk about comfort right now? Which of us is wearing heels?”

Guardian, Kim/Chay, rated T

Chay registered the stench of the canal, and the drag of water pulling him slowly, relentlessly down. His clothes were a sodden weight he struggled against as he kicked toward the surface. They hadn't tied his hands and feet.

It didn't matter. He was drowning.

the closer I am to you, Kim/Chay, rated T

“Is this for the mystery sex box?” Porsche asks. He follows Chay to the bedroom and stops in the doorway, looking around with open curiosity.

“It’s not a sex box,” Chay protests.

time to make a choice, Porsche/Kim, background Kim & Kinn & Khun, rated M

Their parents set the wedding date. Kim is officially out of time.

Minor kidnapping & light murder, Kim/Chay & Macau, rated T

Macau gets kidnapped by douchebags right before school. At least he has company. Although this is how he knows it’s amateur hour, because when they grabbed Macau, they took Porchay Kittisawat along with him.

looking back, moving forward, Kim/Chay, Kinn/Porsche, past Porsche/Kim, rated G

“Hia!” Chay can’t resist his curiosity. He’d really thought he’d have to make introductions. “You’ve already met Kim?”

“Kim?” Porsche asks.

“My boyfriend,” Chay explains slowly.

“Your boyfriend,” Porsche repeats.

[softlyella]

SOFTLY ELLA WELCOME PAGE

🌟 staring: Ella

🌹 intro: Hi, i'm Ella, a 30 something woman (she/her) in France who loves to write and decided to share her writings with he world. Thus the birth of this blog, where you'll find writings, musings, and the occasional horny posting.

🌿 me: 

i'm quite tall, and curvy;

Hopeless Romantic, I believe in true lov and divine unions;

Spiritual. I meditate a lot. Read tarot and learned energy & astrology through my lineage & my ancestors;

I am artistic & a little nerdy; I love to paint and write, and read. I like animes, mangas, manwha. and the IT crowd. (that's a joke and if you get it, there's a kiss for you!).

I also love cooking, particularly for others.

I'm pretty introverted and quiet irl. There's only so much "people-ing" I can take. If I'm comfortable with you, I can either talk your ear off or sit in comfortable silence for 5h.

I'm very sensitive, have quite an emotional depth.

I'm very sexual. (That does not mean I'm your slut or your personal sex toy. And I'm very clear about that boundary.) It's pretty impossible for me to be intimate with someone I have no feelings for.

I'm very flirty, and it's honestly a natural state of being, that's how I talk with people.

For the astrology girlies, boy lies and theylies, yes I am a Libra. Stellium. Do with that as you wish.

Note that I do not feel comfortable chatting with anyone under the age the 20.

© Sofltyella. All rights reserved. Any reposting, modifying any of my creative work is not allowed. Translating my creative pieces is not allowed.

👑 Boundaries: You can send me asks. Introduce yourself, be nice & polite. Or be naughty, but I won't be as nice…. You can compliment my writing, react to something I've written, ask if I can write a story...

⚔️Don't call me yours. That's only with my consent. Please don't call me mistress either. It makes me feel like a school teacher (it sounds the same in french). Cute names are reserved for the people I know and chat with. You can call me Miss Ella.

🪷My Dms are blocked. That's reserved for mutuals or people I've gotten to know and appreciate. My DMs were filled with rude ass, entitled men demanding my attention or that I 'play' with them, helping them get them off. And they turned really disgusting when I drew boundaries. So since y'all can't behave, you're cut off.

I am a woman. If you want my attention, you need to earn it.

[betterbooktitles]

I had placed a stack of albums on the counter of a tiny strip mall record shop when my smartest writer friend called me out of the blue to tell me I should “always have a mistress.”

Relax. She meant a metaphorical mistress. That is, a writing project on the side. You have your main squeeze (a novel or a script) but then you flirt with the idea of writing a YA Romance or a Thriller or (god forbid) poetry. You need something to write that feels like a break from your ��Big Project.”

I was staring at the cover of Tears for Fears’ Songs From The Big Chair, imagining the person I would be once I heard “Head Over Heels” on vinyl when my phone rang. I only had the ringer on because I was waiting for a potential call from a casting director. A certain late-night show sent out a casting notice for “shirtless man” and I, without any shame, turned on the lights in my wife’s office and had her take a few shots with my phone. I had the ringer on in case a stranger got my (half) nudes in an email, and said “That’s it! Get me that torso!” I’m sorry to say, enough time has passed without a call that you will not be seeing my chest on TV any time soon. Usually, my phone remains on silent when I’m out in the world. It also remains on silent when I’m at home because I’m staring at it all day anyway. Who needs to bring noise into that equation? If you call, I’ll see it.

Between the tone of her voice and the occasional swoosh of a car going by, I could tell my friend was driving and had me on speakerphone. She was on her way to lunch with someone on the business/agency side of Entertainment, heading to a mix of pleasurable banter over food with a friend but also a business-minded networking session with someone she hadn’t seen in 6 months. This call, pleasurable to me but in retrospect a bit of business since we talked instantly and almost entirely about work for 20 minutes, was eerily fortuitous. It was like she knew I was writing this week about work and relationships.

“You have the mistress project because it makes you feel young,” she said, telling me about her decision to write 50 pages of a Romance novel. “The problem is that you think ‘Maybe I should leave my wife for this younger project.’” She had submitted the first chunk of her frivolous manuscript to an agent, and, to her horror, the agent loved it. Now she has to live with it for a while. She has to explain to her previous project that they are either in a polyamorous marriage now or about to enter a trial separation. Plus, she had to see if the mistress project was wife material or if she’d fall into the same patterns as her previous relationship. OK. We get the metaphor.

“I’m afraid my new mistress is buying dollar records,” I said, watching the traffic go by, sipping from a lid-off paper cup full of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee that, between the time I’d spent looking at records and chatting in the parking lot, had turned cold. I felt the urge to rush back into the store and apologize to Timmy the manager for stepping out. I worried he’d already re-shelved my copy of The Go-Go’s Beauty And The Beat or that someone had seen the Tears For Fears on the top of “my” unpurchased heap and bought it for himself. This shopping trip was supposed to be an Artist Date (I guess the metaphor is still going), a weekly outing you do solo to engage with your Muse before journalling about it because a book called The Artist’s Way says it’s the only way to remain creative. You woo the Muse by engaging with art alone. Typically, I’d go to a museum or a movie by myself for my Artist Date but I’d had a record player for over 2 months and had only amassed a measly hundred-plus albums in my house so far. My next Artist Date will be a trip to IKEA to buy a shelf to hold more.

“No, Dan.” My brilliant friend said, “Replacing your main project with records or books is like saying you’re not going to have a mistress and instead get into sex dolls. You need a creative project.”

Read the rest of the essay here.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

When Found, Return to Owner

This is a short 550ish word prompt fiction in a kink server I'm in, given the prompt "returns". Deciding to cross post here because I still vibe with it and I should just get more writing out there.

CW: We're not even gonna pretend this scenario is consensual. The sex is tho.

The car stopped at a stoplight as the woman driving looked behind her at the woman in the backseat. She was panting heavily, breathing in and out rapidly as her fingers worked inside of her. Her eyes were completely glazed over, staring at absolutely nothing, not noticing how her beautiful blond hair was becoming disheveled from her passionate fingering. She was trapped in a daze, unable to react to the world around her.

The woman, her girlfriend, had a name once. She couldn’t recall what it was. She could remember her own, Marilyn, although in other circles she had gone by the name of Hawk. A past she’d sooner want to forget. Maybe as easily as she had forgotten the name of her girlfriend. She could still remember that this woman was her girlfriend if she concentrated on it, and could remember the memories they had formed together. Their first date. The first time they made love. When she comforted her girlfriend as she told Marilyn her past. The happy, peaceful days they lived, now over.

Now, she was returning her girlfriend to her proper owner. The words stung in her like ice. She couldn’t stop herself from doing it, even as she drove along she couldn’t veer from the path. Her girlfriend’s owner had made sure of that. She wanted her property returned. She had made it clear, and Marilyn didn’t have a choice but to obey.

The mansion was large and foreboding, but clearly an old structure. Parts of it were getting reclaimed by vine and moss, and the front area was only given the most bare of tending. It wasn’t a perfectly manicured, upper class lawn like she had seen before. She opened the door, her girlfriend automatically stepping out, past her, as she recognized this place. Home.

Her owner was waiting for her, sitting down in a chair in the foyer with two maids in skimpy outfits beside her. No doubt more of her property. Her girlfriend stripped nude and prostrated herself, repeating a mantra to herself. Marilyn couldn’t understand the quiet mumblings of the property that was once her beloved.

“I have returned your…property…as requested.” The words didn’t come out easily, even under compulsion. The owner merely chuckled at the mix of fear and venom. Helplessness and anger.

“You did good, bringing her to me so quickly. Others have resisted more. I suppose this isn’t your first time, Hawk.”

Marilyn glared.

“I don’t know how my little darling relapsed, but she did wonderfully. Set up a video chat between us and you were such an easy mark with your…former lover dragging you down. Tell me, what is she to you now?”

“Your property.” Marilyn responded automatically. But that wasn’t right. She was…she was…

“Of course now that she’s mine,” an evil grin flashed across her face, “there’s no need for you to remember pointless things.” The owner laughed, stepping out into the light. She was older, probably around 55, but had aged well.

“Good heroes deserve a reward. Clipped wings.” Marilyn’s vision went black almost instantly.

---

Hawk woke up in her bed, grumbling as she felt a tongue across her pussy. Working for Mrs. Noir had its advantages. She had been given a choice of slave to keep as a personal assistant, as long as she went out and recruited more. That was easy. So many stupid sidekicks wanting to adventure with Hawk.

“Good morning, Tulip.” All the slaves were named after flowers. Tulip, with her beautiful blond hair, smiled. “Good morning, Mistress Hawk.”

[stfu-tuji]

As we head into 2024 I figured it would be necessary to have a pinned post for people to learn a little bit more about me and my preferences.

1. I am male, I am a cross dresser but I’m not where I’d like to be to consider myself a femboy, but that is the goal!

2. This blog is about bondage, but more specifically, GAGS. I love gags so much that my #1 fantasy is to be a permanently gagged sex slave. (Emphasis on fantasy)

3. Despite the fantasy in 2, I’m not actively looking for a mistress/dom. I hope y’all looking find a good sub though!

4. I love chatting in messages! Feel free to message me here or on Twitter (same name). If you’re not comfy with that and prefer anonymity then feel free to leave a question in my inbox. I can’t respond to every message and I might take a bit to respond just so you know~

5. Feel free to follow if you love bondage and gags just like me! I have a giant nylon and pantyhose fetish too so you’ll see some of that if you follow. I plan to post more small captions and reblog lots of stuff I find amazing to look at.

Stay safe and Happy Gagging ;)

-Tuji<3

[mehoymalloy]

Alert: The Judicator AU now has plot-relevant KINK !

Gone are the days of an entire spin-off series for smut, folks, because through lots and lots of brainstorming, worldbuilding, and just generally going feral over the blorbos that are imotohan, @inomakani and I are creating a story that's 60% plot, 40% porn, and a whole lot of arcane fuckery (innuendo absolutely intended) with a sprinkling of good ole fashioned tension (of both the scary and the sexy kind).

But for now, have a cute and silly little backstory snippet we came up with when fleshing out how Imogen becomes the total kinkster she is in this AU.

Growing up with full access to the Aydinlan Seminary’s extensive library, Imogen had stumbled upon the book Mistress’ Magical Manual of Kink as an older teenager while curiously browsing the ‘personal health and hygiene’ section (the standard wizard sex ed class didn’t quite answer all of her questions). Hardbound in a royal purple fabric, with cursive lettering gilded with gold, the title on the spine had quickly caught Imogen’s eye. She had cautiously glanced around to ensure she was alone before she then pulled the book from the shelf, immediately intrigued by the illustration depicted on the front cover. A slightly plump woman, beautifully rendered in an abstract, stylized manner, was bound and suspended in elaborate ropework that wove through the words of the title above before finally curling to shape the first and last ‘S’ of the word ‘Mistress.’ Other items of interest were also subtly integrated throughout the rest of the title: a collar, a leash, a flogger, among others Imogen couldn’t quite identify yet. She had been pleasantly surprised to see a body much like her own. All soft curves, gentle swells, and rolling folds, slightly straining against the delicate embrace of the surrounding ropes. Imogen had discreetly checked the book out, then renewed it, and then renewed it again—until tiny conjured slips of parchment began appearing in the book, always between the pages she had last left off when reading, politely informing her of the impending due date that would not be extended again. Quietly mortified, Imogen resolved to purchase her own copy. Shrouded in a heavy cloak, she absconded to Yios’ one and only ‘adult entertainment’ shop, creatively called Amoryios. However, to her horror, the merchant had gently informed her that this particular book was only available by special order. With one moment of courage, a handful of gold, and hardly a day passing, Imogen then found a discreet package in her campus postbox. The title page of her own personal copy had even been signed by ‘the Mistress’ herself: ‘Dear Imogen, I am honored to offer my guidance on your journey into this wide, wondrous world of sensual possibilities. Much love, Mistress.’ The grandiloquence of the short note had admittedly pulled a genuine snort of laughter from Imogen; but despite the lofty turn of phrase, she somehow felt they were sincere nevertheless. Amusingly, the ‘i’ in the moniker resembled a flogger, much like it did on the cover title as well, with tendrils curling up to dot the letter with a tiny heart—perhaps even the author of a veritable encyclopedia of kink knowledge had their favorites? In keeping with the discreet packaging, the large book even conveniently came already enchanted: a helpful illusion spell that could be activated to alter the outer cover from its eye-catching rich purple and glittering gold to instead appear bland and brown, entitled Marie’s Manual of Household Management. While this enchantment worked wonders to help the book to blend into any bookcase, it crucially did not alter the book’s contents. Imogen would never forget the moment her mother, having popped in for a quick chat, abruptly plucked the book from its perch face-down at the end of the shelf. She had skimmed the blurb on the back, flipped it over to read the title, and then raised an eyebrow as she slowly dragged her pointed gaze around Imogen’s messy dormitory. Then, finally, she replaced the book on the shelf without bothering to open it. In the years following, Imogen was far more careful with where she left her beloved copy of Mistress’ Magical Manual of Kink.