#something something loss of the divine

[dogmotifdeanwinchester]

In Book IV of Virgil's Georgics, Aristaeus (god of beekeepers) has his bees returned to him after he carefully observes a sacrificial ritual (bugonia). In doing so he is contrasted against Orpheus, who fails to obey instructions and loses his beloved.

tweet / Bees bumbling around the kitchen table - Kurt Jackson / Epstein, S. (2002: 25) / Bugonia - Virgil's Georgics Wiki / Kritsky, G. (2015:1) / YouTube / Bug Like An Angel - Mitski / x

[gemknightau]

Oh, hero, of what use is your mind?

[foolofatook001]

this is my girl Constance she was formerly a school of enchantment wizard except she had a time travel incident and lost all her magic

she’s coping very well with this and not running desperately down any route she can think of to get her powers back

[justsalpals]

it was played as a joke but

there's something genuinely harrowing about gorgug and kristen on the deck of the ship, pelted by rain, swarmed by dragons, these two teenagers looking at each other with wide eyes trying to bury the fear down deep, and

do you remember when we died?

they were freshmen, they were children, they were two years younger but it feels like a hundred hundred years ago

it feels like yesterday, because deep down they're still that boy hiding his too large frame behind a metal flower and a girl stuffing her too large personality into the pages of her bible

do you remember when we died?

the ship rocks violently with cannon fire, hands of fear and divinity and loss creeping from the clouds

do you remember the day you lost your faith?

do you remember a forest so sharp it cut you clean through?

do you think we ever woke up?

[l1tw1ck]

Simeon's Devotion

Sub!Bottom!FTM!Priest Simeon x Dom!Top!AMAB!Holy Knight Reader

Word Count: 2,410

Reverend Simeon, plagued by sinful thoughts of a certain holy knight, is suddenly struck with a high fever and abandons his God

AFAB Language Used | 2K Anniversary Request: For a Simeon Fic | [Breaking the Thermostat]

CW: Non-Con, Heavy Religious Themes, Dom/Sub, Virginity Loss, Bleeding, Size Difference, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Belly Bulge, Womb Fucking, Squirting, Creampie, Kidnapping

You knock loudly against Simeon’s doors, heavily injured. You hear the sound of shuffling and see the lights turn on inside. Moments later, he opens the door for you.

Simeon calls out your name in shock. “What happened to you?!” He helps you inside.

“Ran into some demons..” You murmur, sitting down on his couch. “Can you heal me?”

“Of course!” Simeon hastily removes your clothes, leaving you in just an undershirt and boxers. You're both already used to this. “How many this time?”

“I wanna say…30?” You watch him kneel down and use his divine powers on your wounds.

“30?! Did something attract them?”

“I’m not sure. I was on patrol and everything seemed normal. The monsters looked strange too. They all looked like distorted versions of God and they were muttering things like ‘sinner’ and ‘dirty’.” 

“That's strange..”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You reach to rub your temple but Simeon quickly heals your headache. “Could I have something to eat? I know you're probably tired so something like crackers would be fine.”

“You need to eat a real meal. I don't mind cooking for you. You can sleep over too, all your clothes are washed.” Simeon finishes your last wound and stands up. It's very common for you to sleep over at Simeon’s due to exhaustion since demons usually show up on the outskirts of town and you live a bit further away. “Think you can take a shower?”

You stand up and groan, the sound making Simeon twitch. “I think so. Thanks, Simeon.”

“God must be disappointed in you. So much for being a priest.” You say, staring at Simeon. He’s wearing sexy see through lingerie and an extravagant matching sheer silk robe. His legs are spread and he’s leaning against his bed frame. His tears are glistening against his cheeks, they’re shining like glitter. “You're nothing but a dirty sinner.” You move his panties aside.

Simeon looks at you, batting his eyelashes. Another tear falls down his cheek. “You’re my god now.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re mine.” You slowly begin to ease your cock inside him. “And I’m yours.” You press your hand against his pelvis, a pretty marking appearing on it.

Simeon suddenly wakes up moaning your name with his hand stuffed in his underwear. He gasps and yanks it out. He quickly wipes his hand on his clothes and begins to pray. “Please deliver me from temptation.” He repeats the same phrase over and over but as his body begins to grow hot, his prayer becomes strange.

“Please give me [Name]’s cock–” Simeon gasps and covers his mouth. “No…Forgive me— I need his co—” He covers his mouth again. He can't talk. He attempts to pray silently but that doesn't work either. It just makes him feel even more horny.

He begins to absentmindedly remove all of his clothes, his hands moving on their own to touch his wet pussy. He leans back, eyes out of focus, and begins to touch himself but he doesn't really know how. He just rubs his folds, which feel extremely sensitive. “I’m…I’m a sinner..” He mumbles, still out of it. “And a slut.”

“Only [Name] will accept me now.” Simeon brings his hand up to his tattoo and presses on it, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. 

He stumbles out of the bed and drunkenly walks to his guest room, where you’re sleeping. Knocking didn't cross his mind as he opened the door. 

“Si- Simeon?” You ask sleepily, sitting up. “Is something wrong?” You can't tell that he's naked. You move to sit on the side of the bed and squint at him.

“Yes..” He says quietly, stepping towards you. He kneels in between your legs. “I need you.”

“What?!” You recoil. “Are you okay? Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.” Simeon presses kisses along your legs down to your feet. “I’ll do anything you want, [Name]. Anything.”

“I think you need to drink some water…you're not thinking straight.” You get off of the bed. As you try to head towards the door, Simeon stops you.

“I don’t need water, I need you.” He pulls you closer, he’s somehow stronger than before, and forces you into a kiss. It doesn't take long for him to pass on his ‘fever’ to you. Heat rushes through your body as your rational thoughts dispel like bubbles. He pulls away and looks at you lovingly. 

“Simeon...” You hold his chin, speaking with a loving tone. “How beautiful.” You mumble. He moans your name breathily.

“Kneel for me.” You order. Simeon kneels once again. You pull down your shorts and boxers at the same time. His eyes widen, hearts forming in them, when he sees your thick length. The process of becoming a Holy Knight can alter someone's body in major ways but he never knew it could change by this much. “Open your mouth.” You run your fingers through his hair.

Simeon opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. His mouth is unbelievably hot. He can feel the corners of his lips stretching to fit you. The thought of you stretching his pussy open next makes him moan. He stares into your eyes as you begin to thrust. You're sure they're glowing. 

“Your mouth feels amazing.” You moan. Simeon moans as well. “‘S perfect for me..” You speed up your thrusts. He happily allows you to fuck his mouth. He closes his eyes and focuses on your voice. He’s so aroused it's becoming painful.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your thrusts become unruly and desperate. He looks at you again, this time with tears in his eyes. But the tears aren't because he’s upset. “You look so pretty when you cry.” You groan as you come inside his mouth. You slowly pull away as Simeon swallows your seed without hesitation. You're still hard and you both want more. You pick him up and slam him onto the bed. Somehow, the both of you are able to see perfectly in the dark. Maybe it has something to do with the glow in your eyes.

You spread his legs and smile at how wet he is. The marking on his lower stomach glows faintly as you physically observe his pussy with your fingers. He squirms around cutely. You kneel in between his legs, mirroring what he did earlier, and bury your face into his pussy. Simeon moans. “Yes– oh- yes~!” He sucks in a breath. “[Name]~!” It's like he's ascended to heaven. 

You drag your tongue up to his clit and gently suck on it. It quickly and unnaturally swells in your mouth. It feels like he’s stuck on the edge of an orgasm, although it feels good nonetheless. You slip a finger into his hole and then another when you realize how easily it entered him, despite his tightness. “Ooh- oh, [Name]~” Simeon squeezes your fingers tightly as you attempt to finger him. The constant flexing of his walls make it difficult to move them but you don't mind. You’re more interested in how that’ll feel when you fuck him.

He can tell he's not going to come from this. He's not sure why, it feels like there's something blocking him from doing so. “Put…put your cock inside me, please~”

You smile and move away, standing back up. “Of course, my love.” You lick your lips and line up your cock with his pussy, slowly coating your tip with his slick. He bites down on his lip and uncontrollably twitches as you begin to sink into his sopping warmth. He throws his head back and grips the bed sheets while moaning shamelessly. You're barely inside him. His entire pussy is throbbing so heavily, it's almost like a second heartbeat. Blood soon spills from your penetration. 

The true representation of his sin.

He moans your name with his enchanting voice. Your cock ‘knocks’ on his cervix and strangely enough, it seems to be allowing your entrance. Like it wants you to enter his womb. You don't think about how that should be impossible and slide further inside him. “It feels– feels so—” He gasps, squirting. His eyelashes are fluttering rapidly.

“There you go, baby. Come for me.” You rub his clit with your thumb. He writhes around, no longer squirting but his cunt’s still squeezing you like crazy. He isn't able to think about anything at all, his brain is overloaded. The outline of his tattoo is becoming a bright blue. “Good boy…keep going.” You praise him.

Simeon wants to say your name again but he is completely unable to speak.

“Let’s make up for all your years of abstaining.” You start to thrust. He slowly comes back down to earth with each thrust you make. 

“Ah–” His eyes are sparkling with tears. “You’re so big…stretching me out~” 

“That’s right, I’m making your pussy fit the shape of my cock.” You slowly rub the bulge on his stomach, fucking him at a slow pace. “Your body’s gonna remember me and only me.”

“That's– that’s all I want~” Simeon moans. “Only you~”

“So pretty…” You brush his hair out of his face. He looks like a painting. You bring your hands to his waist and slowly build up to a faster pace. He reaches for you so you lean in. He wraps his arms around you.

“I love you.” He says in a shaky tone.

“I love you too.” You look into his eyes. For a brief moment, he realizes this isn't the real you, then he brushes it off. He feels strange. “My sweet Simeon.” You kiss him. The bed starts rocking due to your quickened thrusts. You separate from the kiss, some saliva dripping down his lip.

He looks down and notices the marking on his womb is glowing and the same color as his eyes. His desire has been satisfied. It’s all over. He looks up at you, suddenly shaking like a scared rabbit. The artificial light flickers out like a used lightbulb. He can't see you clearly anymore. The only lights are the glow in your eyes and the faint moonlight. “[Name]?” He asks.

“Hm?”

You're still…you’re not aware like he is. He suddenly feels disgusting. He forced you into this. Even if he wasn't completely conscious. He should tell you to stop, but he doesn't want to. Is it so wrong to want a little more? “I…I-” He stutters. “Come- come inside~” If he can't have you, maybe he can have a part of you.

You kiss his cheek. “Of course.” You come inside of him only moments later. It feels like he forced it out of you. You look at him with an exhausted but happy expression before passing out on top of him. He doesn't try to move you.

You slowly wake up. You look around the room and notice a stain on the floor that you didn't notice before. And your bedsheets seem to be different too. You also feel a little strange. Refreshed, but strange. You get up and leave the guest room. You can smell coffee so you go down to the kitchen. “You're up pretty early. Don't you usually sleep in on Tuesdays?”

Simeon shrugs, not looking at you. “I felt like getting up early today.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything today. Maybe I’ll make breakfast this time?”

“It's okay. I’ll make it.”

“If you insist.” You know you can't convince him otherwise. “I wanna do something for you though. You deserve a gift.”

“Protecting my town is more than enough.”

“You’ll never change, huh?” You chuckle. “You know, the bed sheets look different from last night. Am I crazy?”

Simeon breaks the mug in his hand. You shoot up from your chair and rush over to him.

“I- I’m okay.” Simeon heals himself. “There wasn't anything in it yet.” 

“Good. You…seem weird today.” You notice he's not making eye contact with you.

“I..” He presses his forehead onto your chest and frowns, tears forming in his eyes. “I did something horrible last night.”

“What do you mean?” You bring him into a hug and gently rub his back to comfort him.

“Please…please don't hate me.”

“How could I hate you?”

“Last night…something strange came over me. I wasn't fully in control of myself and I forced you to…to..” He begins to sob.

“Simeon?” You ask, concerned.

“I forced you to have intercourse with me!” He blurts out, pulling away from you. He turns around and doesn't look at you.

You pause. “It must’ve been the work of a demon. It's okay, it's not your fault. It wasn't my ‘first time’ but…was it yours?”

Simeon’s eyes widen. “That wasn't your first?”

“No.”

He bites down on his nail. “When?”

“Um…maybe a decade ago?”

“Before you became a knight? And you haven't since then?”

“...Yes.” You assume he's uncomfortable due to his beliefs.

Simeon sighs. You were ‘reborn’ during your ceremony so you’re technically a virgin but you still have the experience. “Are you going to remain celibate?”

“I…well, I hope to find someone in the future. To marry, of course.”

“Oh.” He clenches his fist. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in?”

“I suppose I’ve caught a liking to Solomon, he—”

Simeon whips his head around. The look in his eyes is scary. “No.” He grabs your shirt. “No. You can't. You can't leave me.”

“Simeon?” You look at him in disbelief.

“I…I’m not letting you leave.”

Simeon looks at you sleeping peacefully on his bed. He isn't sure how, but he caused you to pass out and he was able to carry you here. He didn't even break a sweat. Due to a holy knight’s ability to neutralize certain forms of demon magic, Simeon is sure he isn't using that as you would've been fine if he was. But that leaves more questions to be answered.

He slides his hand down to his lower stomach and touches the glowing blue mark on his womb. It hasn't gone away. What is it? If it's not demonic then is it holy? How could this be holy?

He gently caresses your face. “I’m sorry, but I can't allow you to leave.”

You’ll be missed in the order of the holy knights but no one will worry when Simeon tells everyone he has bigger plans for you.

[bbygirl-aemond]

okay now that i've slept on this episode (and watched the behind the scenes) i want to talk more about this idea of rhaenyra as a cult leader who has completely drunk her own kool-aid. it's an a+ development for her character and i truly hope the writers continue to lean into it further.

hotd has built up this idea of dragons being a conduit for the divine from the very beginning of season one, when viserys and rhaenyra talk about how the targaryen's perceived proximity to the gods comes via their control of dragons. earlier in season two we also heard the smallfolk describe the dragons as invulnerable gods during the parading of meleys's head. this is a deliberate narrative that the targaryens have cultivated (as jace pointed out) to provide themselves with a divine mandate to justify their rule.

this idea of the dragons as a divine mandate is beginning to intersect with the conqueror's dream for rhaenyra in a fascinating way. rhaenyra has always placed more importance on the conqueror's dream than, say, daemon or jace, but this episode goes much further, and is full of rhaenyra talking about being given signs and instructions from the gods. i think addam claiming seasmoke was a transformation for her- she was smiling and had this look of near elation once he claimed her as queen.

i think she genuinely believes that the gods broke the rules of dragon claiming in order to give her a loyal dragon rider right when she needed one. we then see this same elated smile again when she successfully brings vermithor to heel.

each of these little moments is something she takes as confirmation that she's being aided by the gods. this is why she is so convinced that the dragon seeds who claim vermithor and silverwing will be loyal to her- she has convinced herself that all of this is the gods signaling to her and that they will bring her loyal dragon riders the way they brought her addam. the dragon tamers point out what rhaenyra is not willing to acknowledge; these are not true signs from the gods, but things that rhaenyra herself is reading into and arranging for herself. she is seeing what she wants to see. and this will be proven true when hugh and ulf betray rhaenyra, likely due to rhaenyra's own actions in locking the dragonseeds in to die. they were not loyal believers sent from the gods to serve her; they were just men, and she's given them the fantasy equivalent of nuclear missiles.

a large part of this belief in divine validation is definitely due to rhaenyra's own deep seated insecurity due to viserys neglecting her in her childhood and her small council not taking her seriously enough, but i also think this is a coping mechanism on rhaenyra's part. she has no choice but to lean into this war as fully as she can now, to describe herself as helpless in the wake of what the gods have set before her, because she needs her losses to mean something. she needs visenya's death and luke's death to mean something. she needs the loss of her relationship with alicent to mean something.

but in doing this, she is already beginning to push others away from her. she has lost the support of the dragon tamers, and she has also pushed away jace; when he confronted her about a valid concern about how this would make his own ascension even more fraught, she just parroted more of that divine mandate nonsense back to him, which he is clearly not buying. i'll be curious to see how much deeper she falls into this cultish spiral and how much more it costs her.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Road to Fame

♛ “If God gives you something you can do, why in God's name wouldn't you do it?” ―Stephen King

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

♕ Pile One (8oP, 3oW rev., Temperance, The Hermit)

Your road to fame would be quite unorthodox and since you’re paving an original path, it would take time, patience, and dedication. This is not an overnight sensation type of thing. Think Sheraseven- the Sprinkle Sprinkle Lady ✨. She had been consistently making content (unique, neo “feminist” videos way before it picked up in media) for well over a decade. She even had a spiritual side to her, she talked about esoteric themes in pop culture and made guides on how to manifest and attract abundance. 

This is my spiritual pile, you would get famous for offering psychic insight (using clairaudience capabilities in particular) or putting your own creative spin on things using your spiritual attunement. Like Sheraseven for example, she combined her interest in esoteric practices with her love for pop culture and social commentary. 

Inherently, esoteric studies have smaller audiences so it would take significant time to build up worldwide fame (if you even want that). 

Honestly, with your skills, any fame you get is due to a higher power. You are a conduit for elevating the collective consciousness. You will be seen because your insight is meant to be heard. Society is heading towards a deep transformation and shift of power from the ultra-rich to the common man and you’re one of the ushers of this change. Your words empower people and are a primary reason for your incarnation. 

Any platform you build is going to be held to a higher standard than most in the eyes of the public and the universe. People are going to look at you for guidance and inspiration and the petty, nasty shit you see in media nowadays will not bode well if you enact it. You will be made an example of how to behave and treat others. Your bad actions will be punished more harshly than anyone else’s and your good actions will be rewarded tenfold. 

Major Jupiterian and Plutonian influence. A genius astrologer on this app tracked the most common nakshatras of K-Pop Idols, and Jupiter dominated their charts. They are held to an incredibly high standard and are trained to be model citizens. However, their fame surpasses the average celebrity and they are practically worshipped worldwide. *ahem* You.

I mean… imagine if a holier-than-thou mental health, peace, and love guru was bullying people on Twitter, nobody would listen to anything you have to say. You HAVE to pay careful attention to your media presence and image.

Howeevveerrr, your biggest personal challenge is trusting yourself and your capability. The thing with spirituality is, it lies outside of human perception, so there is no concrete evidence to prove it to others. So, you would battle with, “Am I even right? Will anyone believe me?” and it would cause a shit ton of anxiety cause you’re constantly questioning yourself. 

Be cautious not to clip your own wings. I can't stress this enough: you are meant for this! You are the real deal! If others don’t believe in you, so what? Only YOU need to believe in yourself. Offer honest help to others, and if they choose not to take your advice, that's their loss. Remember, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink—just as my grandmama would say. DO IT THE FUCK ANYWAY!

But have patience! That’s another thing, you’ll grow frustrated if your platform isn’t building as quickly as you’d like. You have to remember that the divine has a hand in this ordeal, they are going to attract the right people at the right time and it likely won’t align with your sense of urgency. Trust the process and stay committed—you’re on the right path!

P.S. Your work will be slow. Most careers require a “grind”, yours won’t. You need to prioritize introspection, drawing your attention inward and looking for answers deep within your soul. Don’t stress logic and manipulation of the algorithm, trust your inner knowing. 

(Do you have a prominent Pluto in your chart: Either in a cardinal house or conjunct a personal planet? You are a major player in the world’s rebirth.)

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Seer of the Space Between Worlds

♕ Pile Two (7oS, 9oS, Queen of Wands, The High Priestess, 5oS, 10oW, 5oW rev.)

YOU’RE SEXY AND HOES ARE MAAADDDDD.

Your road to fame is you embracing your authentic self. Something about your beauty: your looks, how you style yourself, who you’re seeing romantically, your creativity, your sensuality,

or you could lead a visually pleasing “soft girl” lifestyle. Anything that makes people look at you just swoon. 

People would be mad because they think you have it easy. You don’t really have to do much, but be beautiful because people desire you and your lifestyle. If you’re a woman, I see you leading self-confidence courses and teaching women of all ages how to raise their self-esteem by detaching from anything that drains their inner wild woman.

This reading is hyper-feminine, if you’re a man you’d get famous for your proximity to women or will have a female-dominated fanbase that sees you as their dream guy and wants to date you. 

You create a wonderfully comfy vibe; everything you do looks effortless, even if it takes a ton of hard work behind the scenes. You sell a fantasy, showcasing the polished version of a lifestyle while hiding the nitty-gritty realities. Take that Ballerina Farms lady, for example. She’s running a farm, raising 50 kids, and cooking from scratch daily, all while looking FABULOUS. I bet she goes to bed exhausted! Yet to the public, everything appears romantic and effortlessly beautiful, making it seem far easier than it actually is. Now everyone is dreaming of escaping to a self-sustaining farm and embracing that charming cottage-core lifestyle.

However, underneath all the glitz and glamour, there is something dark in your mental space. You attract a lot of envy. People desire your lifestyle to the extent that they’ll get buddy-buddy with you just to be near what you have, hoping it will rub off on them. You’ll have to learn to navigate deceitful energies and “friends” who are secretly competing with you.

People will like the idea of getting you out of your “princess” character. They want you to look like the bad guy- someone who is actually a mean bitch underneath your cool, calm, and collected persona. 

This aspect of fame, in the broader context of your life, will teach you discernment and help you trust your intuitive judgment of others. However, on this journey, you may find yourself grappling with intense paranoia and trust issues. Having been burned by people in the past, you'll become hyper-vigilant, determined to avoid the same pain again. Yet, through this struggle, you'll also discover the importance of vulnerability and the value of genuine connections, allowing you to grow stronger and more resilient in the face of adversity.

You will meet the best people in your life and your greatest adversaries at this time. 

But don’t sweat it, they hate you because they don’t have shit on you.

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

She Weaves Timeless Romanticism Into The Mundane

♕ Pile Three (Page of Pentacles, The World, 10oW, King of Pentacles, Powerful, Saturn, Gemini Medical, Seduction)

You have the power to unite the world baby. Your key to fame is sharing your perspective on life. 

You possess a deep understanding of a universal truth that many remain blind to, and it's crucial to share your ideas. If this resonates with you, you'll likely feel a weight of knowledge pressing down on you, creating a longing to communicate and connect with others. This insight isn't just a personal burden; it’s your ticket to stardom. By expressing this truth, you have the potential to inspire others, spark meaningful conversations, and elevate both yourself and those around you. 

You have the gift of the gab, can charm the birds from the trees, a mouth like a magpie, can sell ketchup to a lady in white gloves, and every other saying under the sun that says your words are seductive. 

I don’t think you realize this but you have a knack for attracting an audience. You may feel insecure and think people stare at you for no reason or listen too intently to everything you say, but it's because you radiate an aura of importance. 

Significant placements: Saturn in a cardinal house or major conjunction, Libra, Cap, Aqua, Pushya, Anuradha, and Uttara Bhadrapada.

Your mind is critical, astute, and hyper-aware; this aspect of yourself bleeds into your physical existence. Your body language communicates this fact and people pick up on it, giving the impression that you’re intelligent and have something important to say.

You know those internet personalities who, for whatever reason, people hang onto their every word? When something happens in the media, people rush to their comments and ask about their thoughts and opinions. Or, all their content is their knowledge about niche things or their viewpoint on divisive arguments in society. That’s your shit right there. 

You’re likely not too interested in mainstream media and like to consume content that expands your knowledge and mentally stimulates you. 

There is a deep sense of doubt here, you’re probably reading this and going, “But I’m not smart🫤.”

LIEESSSSS!

You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, you’re a genius! You might be surprised at how interested people are in your thoughts if you find the courage to share them. Sure, you’ll encounter some naysayers along the way, but who cares? It’s the internet, and let’s be honest—people can be insufferable. You could say the sky is blue and there’d be some smartass like, “Well actually, with all the methane in the atmosphere the sky turns pink with a dash of purple at approximately 6:44 pm in the western hemisphere  ☝🏾🤓.”

You can’t let these losers silence you. 😭😭

Focus on those who resonate with your message and don’t let the negativity hold you back. Your voice matters, and the world needs to hear what you have to say!

Just to reiterate, it IS your ticket to getting the spotlight you deserve.

P.S. If you have Saturn dominance, especially in relation to Mercury, you likely experienced some delays and struggles in your education and learning development (SAMESIES). You might have a speech impediment or struggle to find the right words. 1) Things will get better with time and you will likely surpass everyone else in terms of communication because you will put a lot of focus into refining your speech. 2) People will find your speech endearing because it shows that you’re human, imperfect, and relatable. It makes it easier for people to connect to you and resonate with your message. 

P.S.S. For some of you, this message is tied to your academics and whatever you’re learning professionally. 

P.S.S.S It's hours later, and I'm letting my intuition shape your mood board. The imagery is… quiet yet formidable, like towering mountains or the very core of the Earth. You have an intellect that doesn’t need to scream that it’s sharp. You embody the dignified essence of Saturn, exuding a carefully crafted composure. People are drawn to unravel your layers, eager to glimpse the depth within. It may sound strange, but over time, people come to see you as profoundly wise.

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Gentle Fortitude in Peace of Mind

♕ Pile Four (Page of Swords, 2oP, 4oW, 4oS rev., 9oS rev., High Priestess)

Haha, you think you won’t find love but you’re about to receive one of the greatest love stories of a lifetime 🫵🏾!

Your road to fame is a blossoming partnership filled with love, mutual respect, and endless banter. 

It could be a familial, platonic, romantic, or a friends-to-lovers situation, doesn’t matter. Your bond with another is what will catch the media’s attention. In today’s age, this could be in the form of a podcast or live streaming where people get to observe you and your person’s natural flow of conversation.

Do you know Aaron and Jo? They’re commentators who’ve been friends since childhood, and their unique rapport is magnetizing. It’s effortless and incredibly comfortable to witness, making their interactions feel genuine and warm. They have middle-school boy humor but they’ve refined it over the years, so it appeals to all audiences and is genuinely hilarious. You and your person will have something one-of-a-kind like this. 

This is sort of separate from the reading, beyond the potential fame, this person is coming into your life (or is already in it) as a gift from the Universe. The karmic scales are balancing in your favor. You’ve spent years emotionally pouring into people with very little in return and as a form of justice, you are going to meet people who “Match your Freak”, so to speak. 

Placements: Tropical Aries, Sidereal Pisces, Uttara Bhadrapada Nakshatra. Any Cancer or 4th house placements. 

You’ll know this is coming when you’re going through a season of release. Whatever has been draining you emotionally and torturing you psychically will just… poof!

One day you’re going to, “fuck that shit, it’s not the deep- WE BALL!” your way to success 😭😭.

This is my bubbliest pile. Not that you are a bubbly person, in fact, life’s trials and tribulations took away your ability to crack a smile for a while. But this new phase you’re entering is nothing but giggles and a great fucking time. You deserve it!

This person is going to nurture you in ways that even your inner child can’t fully comprehend. The success you find online won’t even feel like the ultimate prize; it’s the deep connection you build that truly matters. This bond will uplift you and provide the support you didn’t know you needed, making the journey all the more rewarding.

P.S. You might have Libra or 7th house significance in your chart because a core aspect of your life revolves around connection and partnership—more so than most. It's time to celebrate! Toss your cap in the sky, you’ve completed a huge karmic cycle and your blessings are coming! 

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Joyous Hum of Divine Union

[astrow0rldx]

Mystery pick a card (Some 18+)

Since I did a tarot reading poll for my next tarot reading. lets get the rest of the stuff out of my drafts and reach whoever whenever divine pleases. all different type of questions. some 18+, some not. choose what pile you feel intuitively drawn too.

if you fount it on 10/20-21 24 feel free to vote on the poll for the next reading: https://www.tumblr.com/astrow0rldx/764872633973145600/a-tarot-reading-poll-%E0%AD%A8-%E0%AD%A7?source=share

One

18+ who wants to fuck you?

people probably know them. they are very confident, bold, brave. self assured. they are very wishful, they have a lot of ideas. they could be hopeful, and faithful for big dreams. they could be a person who's naturally inspired, or just carries themself that way. looking for purpose. not really immature energy though, like they seem actually goal-oriented and grounded and serene. this person could make money and actually be well known. they might have a busy life or a lot of eyes on them, like they wake up with a purpose, ideas & confidence in their world,shining. leo, sun, solar plexus energy. but also goal-oriented, focused, practical, money getter. receives nice things. the way they may flirt may be cold-hearted, clever, non chalant. if charming then not too vulnerable. could even be a little shy, have anxiety. or maybe traps in their own head when talking, arguing, etc. so maybe quiet. i don't see them as this optimistic person all the time, they could be very down. maybe a lot of loss hopes. maybe focusing on the bad. could be a person to be like awnn im so sad, so they get inspired to find purpose. they find purpose in themself, and their character and life. you could know them for getting through things. like this person could be strong, a wounded healer. signs: leo, cancer, thick hair, ginger hair, nature, fairy/mermaid, coquette, nighttime, rich, spiritual, moon, been in jail, popular, famous, pretty/handsome. good sleep schedule. mourning and sad but strong and hopeful. get through it energy.

Two

18+ their sexual fantasy with you?

makeup sex, remove tension, confusion and conflict with sex. even tease you a bit. if you guys were both going through a lot because of the connection, or your personal lives, they want to move in and just protect you. stand strong and live a happy ever after and forget about the bullshit. they definitely have fantasies about you fucking while living together and different places around the house, marriage and children may be involved. this type of sex they want to give you they want it to be deep, or performative something to make their mark, own you and make you realize about them or you two. they fantasize about moments when they have to hesitate and they don't know, like should i make a move or should i not. should we go right now, or should we not. and its just so much adrenaline and passion between you guys. they fantasize about you being their ideal woman. you even dressing up in dresses for them, putting yourself together. and then they get to see you take it off, take it off for you and take control. they fantasize about this being connective sex though, so not them only doing the work by the way, don't be afraid to add force, strength or bratty. they want to get.. THERE. rough girlfriend sex. if not girlfriend, bestfriend with benefits, fuck buddy type of thing.

Three

hyping you up and calling you out?

numerology number 222 - You thrive in partnerships, value emotional connection, and have a strong intuition. traits like : Harmony, cooperation, empathy, and diplomacy. You may struggle to assert yourself, compromise too much, or fear conflict. traits like : Indecisiveness, over-dependence, and passivity.

Signs: Strong Libra, Leo, Scorpio, Fire Signs. Favorite - Nicki Minaj

Social butterfly, Creative/Inner child energy. ADHD? maybe Balanced, makes clear decisions. Popular girl energy tbh, if your not, express yourself! popularity doesn't matter anyways your bright regardless this is about you, not others. Heavy re-invent yourself type of person, no matter if its what you been through, your look/aesthetic-ness. Who you are, what you do, you are transformative.

You are a warrior, Your strong. You been through a lot but it made you stronger & only balanced you out. Courageous! It's like you have the power to conquer anything because you rise from it, with grace & confidence. No one should be able to take control of your way when you decide to take control. Game of Thrones energy, like you could look at yourself as some type of character, angel or you know what I mean, it adds to your ego & personality about the stuff you went through. Like this is my goddess, I have faced hardship and became a strong, balanced, warrior with angel wings because of that. You are balanced, wise, & fair. You can make clear, rational decisions. Resilience - the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties. You can re-invent your self, and shine in your character. You are radiant, your full of life, and you bring light to everyone around you. Your positivity & energy is magnetic. Success, joy, and happiness is the aura and energy around you, embrace it and feel it.

Your like this clear, smart, rational person who shines bright and has this positive inner child energy about them. You have a lot of energy, and adaptability. Always on the go, always on the move, facing things, experiencing and going through stuff, or just being that way as your personality. Like Momentum is on your side, you move with speed & purpose. Push forward!!!

Four

how to get to your desired reality?

signs - National Olympics Games, Spelling bees, Swimming, NBA/NFL, Competitive things. Competitive work place/friend group/family. song: Candy Man, Planez by Jeremih. book: 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene.

you may want to get away with something. wish you can take something. have a little secret. be a thief, manipulator, sneaky, rebel. something hidden that you want to get away with. this could involve a relationship or another thing you can desire in your life is a relationship. maybe a dynamic of earth sign fem/water sign masc. energetically, a woman who’s stable, has all her material desires, thriving in the physical & reality. with a emotional, caring, loving, mature man. with the 8 of cups outside of that and 7 of swords before you might have sneaky things going on in the relationship that you might want to leave behind. or you might want to leave a relationship for another person. or leave with this person. this could be another desire in your life to just maybe leave something behind, and move on from something.

you probably miss your innerchild. you miss someone you were in the past. a era in your life before. you want enjoy life, take the innocence and playfulness, the creativity & kindness of it all. you probably wish you had more integrity, more real, more logical. you probably wish you were more of a warrior, stronger, control things when it’s unfair. wish you had justice. you wish you were smart, straightforward, and had clarity, can understand things faster and see things through. better communication skills. work hard, you wish you can have consistency and persistence. good work. learn faster. wish you were good in school and your matters pertaining to your education, work, legal matters and children.

YOU GOT TO HAVE FUN THIS WORLD IS YOURS. GET SOME CONFIDENCE AND BRAVERY. take down your haters. make it through any competitive shit and stand on your throne. you control your reality, you manipulate the situation. you gain the control and the power. that means you decide when stuff is done, you leave stuff behind that doesn’t serve your best. and be in peace. SAVE and NOURISH and RESPECT & VALUE your peace. PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE put your respect and values to the right things and PEOPLE. your peace can help you understand your wishes and your values and your hopes. and help the tooth fairy to come and help you get it and gain control over the situation. meditate. and WIN 🥇

all you have to do is realize something and have the right discernment and judgement. crumble what doesn’t serve you even if it’s chaotic. bond with the right people and go to/make genuine connections. and that can help you unblock something in you to get here.

Five

How to get to your desired reality?

(same question for pile four)

signs - “Just Do it” Nike. Gigi Hadid, Victoria Secret Modeling, Makeup, Pink. Sexy (Red and Black). Red Room. Leather, Black Boots. Blonde Ponytail. Tumblr Feminine Culture. Female Gaze. Fake Friends. Popular Girl Clique. McDonalds. 4 for $4. Song: Pretty Hurts by Beyoncé. Sippy Cup by Melanie Martinez.

okay you ready to see your work that you put in, the time and investment finally make you satisfied. you probably been holding on to some burdens but your ready for a new life a new beginning something fresh. your ready for the heavy book bag to be off your shoulders life to stop kicking your ass and you can innocently walk into something new. you put in the work and your just waiting till the plants grow and you are thriving and the voids are filled. the happiness and everything you want is there. maybe something that you been wanting to start that you been investing in, caring about is something you see as a fulfillment.

you wish you were more abundant, you wish you were more lucky, you wish you were more physically wealthy. you can receive your wants more easily. you wish you were more of a person that receives good karma and fate. you wish you were emotionally stable and mature and looked at the world differently. and were a better and stronger person to achieve and accomplish.

Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and celebrate. emotionally go forward and connect with people. But be guarded and self assured. start being kind of selfish and more connected back with self. holding on to things valuing things. be more energetic fast and about that action. start moving and starting. start DOING.

you might have body insecurities. you might have insecurities about your luck and fate. insecurities about time. insecurities about your learning abilities, your studies, your goals and ambitions. insecurities about your emotional well-being, your depression, looking on the down side. insecurites about your procrastination, persistentence, and future. your material stability. your plan and progress your path.

[celuere]

uhhhhh can i rq fem reader x fallen angel arlecchino with virgin reader giving into temptation. also they do it in a church. on the altar.

Ngl anon you cooked with this request. But just for clarification: I will write this fic based on teyvats beliefs, NOT actual beliefs! Which means that reader will be a follower of Celestia/the Heavenly Principles, just to make this clear! I will not write stories based on reallife religions, beliefs, etc.

I‘ll repeat: this work is NOT based off of any religions, I purely made every single stuff up with the guidance of canon Teyvat Lore.

pairing: fallen angel!arlecchino x fem!reader

context: anon request!

cw: kind of an au, loss of virginity, hands down filthy sesbian lex, degrading, worship, arle fucking you out of pure spite for the divine, CONSENSUAL OFC.

NSFW utc, MDNI!

Your bare footsteps echoed through the wide halls, the colorful mosaic paintings being dimly lit by the surrounding candles as you made your way to the altar. A golden decorated podest, roses and other precious flowers being neatly aligned on the marble.

But that’s the least you could do for them. For the Ursurper. The one who came Second. On the day of their awakening you shall not be standing on their wrong side. Why should you? You‘ve been nothing but a devoted follower.

Regular sacrifices, dailiy prayers filling your routine along with one ritual being performed on each new moon.

And tonight there was no moon to illuminate your facial features as you slowly came to a stop in front of the altar, feet already numb from the stinging cold of the tiles on which this church was built upon.

It was a lonely, almost abandoned looking building at the top of a mountain with barely any visitors. Except for you. You made sure to keep the floor polished and the altar decorated with all kinds of goods that would perhaps please the divine. The colorful windows displaying a beautiful pattern made of all the colors you‘d find in a rainbow if the sun dared to light up the sacred mountaintop.

Todays ritual was no different.

With your hands neatly folded in lap and your eyes closed, the prayer started to fall from your lips like a waterfall. You knew every verse by heart, could recite every ritual down to the smallest detail. Quite the devoted follower, are you not?

But during your reciting you failed to notice the candles you so neatly arranged around the cathedral slowly getting put one by one until the last flame was finally extinguished when you opened your eyes again, darkness quickly engulfing you.

For a moment your heart set out until the excitement came rushing back in.

Did your efforts finally pay off? Where you finally heard? It has got to be a sign- there was no way that-

clap.

clap.

clap.

„All these efforts… only for the Divine to look down on you.“, a low, female voice ripping through the silence, „Say… would you water a sprout if you knew that it would never grow up into a tree? Causing your deeds to drown in vain… all the time, tears and sweat you put into watering the seedling, just to get ignored. Tossed aside.“, but when you sprung up on your feet to look around- there was nobody in sight.

„Show yourself-! Who are y-”, the scream leaving your throat was muffled by the hand closing around your mouth.

„My identity….? Such a curious thing, aren’t you? My lordship surely got themselves a sweet treat with you.“, the word lordship was laced with enough hatred to fuel a fire in the depths of the abyss, sending a shiver right down your spine.

„Lordship…?“, you didn’t dare to take a look over your back to face the unknown, instead your eyes wandered up to the statue of the Heavenly Principles or rather what they embody.

The cluster of stars that have been hammered into the crystal before you with a singular eye placed in the middle was silently analyzing you. Judging you. Whenever you stood right in this very spot for longer than anticipated, you‘d get the weird gut feeling that something might be wrong, might be watching. It creeped you out even after so many years of praying to the Heavens, that you just got used to it.

„Surely, you wouldn’t like to spend the rest of your life praying to an uncaring and corrupt deity. Or are you as naive and… innocent as you truly look?“, slender hands snaked around your waist, tugging you back against the strangers chest. As touch deprived as you were- goodness, it did some things with your pussy.

Fuck, she was tall.

„What… What do you know about the Second who came? A-A bitter soul you must be…“, yet you didn’t try to wiggle out of the tight grip of her arms when her sharp nails ran over your stomach that was still covered by the silken robe of yours.

Yes, being a devoted follower meant following certain rules. For example to not engage yourself in any kind of intimacy. Ever. No hugging. No holding hands. No kissing. No sex. But in all honesty you were a sucker for physical affection, not being allowed to even hug your loved ones on special days always nagged at your heart but you couldn’t- you mustn’t disappoint them. A non-negotiable deal.

„A bitter soul? You are not quite wrong with that, doll… what if I told you that your…“, her hot breath suddenly tickled the shell of your ear, „Ursurper is nothing but a coward? A coward feasting off on the hopes of the likes of you. Draining you. Laughing at you. Your efforts were doomed from the very beginning. But…“, slowly, the fabric of your cloth was tugged to the side, exposing your bare body to the cold atmosphere surrounding you.

A gasp left your mouth.

You forgot that the ritual from earlier required you to wear nothing underneath your robe. There wasn’t a specific reason since it was a solo act. That‘s just how it was written down.

„…but it is not too late for you to turn around and start over. To forget how you wasted the past years of your life for nothing in return.“, her words were strengthened by a soft, gentle kiss being placed right behind your ear, the touch forcing you to press your legs together. To try to ignore how the wetness wasn’t stopping to form between them.

Turn around and start over?

How?

The Ursurper has been the sole center of your life for the past decade. You woke up for them. Ate for them. Prayed for them. Sacrificed for them. Breathed for them.

Lived for them.

„I… I-I can’t- I-… th-they wouldn’t want me to turn away from them- to commit a sin in their name- th-that‘s not what they would have wan- Hah…!“, the hand sneaking between your legs came straight from hell itself. Knowing exactly how to glide her fingers in between your slickness, how much pressure to apply on the soft bundle of nerves, in which speed she should circle them over it.

„Is it truly a sin if it feels so good? Is this truly what you would consider defying the laws of the Divine? Look up at them and give me an answer.“

You couldn’t help but push your hips further into her hand, grinding them back and forth over her digits. You didn’t know what this mysterious woman looked like. Neither did you care. But what you did care about was this sinking feeling in your stomach when your eyes found the statue in front of you again.

Guilt.

How could you throw all of your hard work away for five minutes of thrilling ecstasy? What has gotten into you?

„I… n-no… th-this isn’t right… but… o-oh god fuck…“, your need for satisfaction was slowly starting to outweigh the guilty feelings. She was right. How could something feeling this good be considered a sin? Maybe it was a mistranslation from the old books? Maybe this was actually supposed to be a holy message to the heavens.

The stare looming over you felt now more heavier than ever as your hips were now practically fucking the woman’s hand, trying to catch that desired high, to maybe force whoever gods were sitting in the castle high above the ground to pay their attention to you.

„“This isn’t right“, yet you are practically using my hand for your own satisfaction. Didn’t they teach you some manners during all those years of useless worship?“, the sentence came out in a low groan, forcing you to bend over the altar which you swiped clean of any decorations beforehand.

The sound of fabric being ripped echoed through the cathedral.

Then you felt the chilly air ghosting over your wetness, forcing goosebumps to form on your skin as she practically pushed you down on the cold stone like you‘re supposed to be the next sacrifice.

Maybe you were.

Maybe you were going to be the next sacrifice by the way her next words reached your ears in a soft purr, „My, My… such a sweet lamb letting me bend her all the way over. I‘m not sure your lovely god would enjoy this sight. One of their most loyal acolytes just giving into her former Angel of Death like that…“.

The air around you stilled.

Angel of Death?

Goodness. You were in such deep shit.

A stranger would’ve been better than whatever she was.

There was little to no information about her, Arlecchino. The Primordial Ones deathbringer. It was all old tales dating back way before the Archon War, something about her being the Ursurper‘s executioner after they emerged victorious against the Sovereigns.

But something must’ve happened between the two of them for the Angel of Death to betray her superior by stepping into the destruction of Khaenri‘ah from 500 years ago.

The only witnesses to tell the tale died in the following impact from Arlecchino‘s punishment.

Therefore no records of her consequences exist.

„According to your silence, you are very much aware of who I am. That makes things easier for me. Now where were we again….? Ah… right…“, pressing her throbbing tip against your already soaked cunt earned herself a sharp gasp, „I wanted to show you just how much they really care about you. Surely, they would care about me tainting your purity with my cum, right?“.

„A-Ah-! I… I-I don’t know, I- ngh….“, Holy. She was big compared to your tight pussy.

Never once did you dare to pleasure yourself, too scared about possible consequences but Arlecchinos dick stretching you out further and further as she shoved herself inside… maybe this was the salvation you were looking for your whole life.

„You don’t know hm…? Goodness me. Are your likes really just all tits no brain?“, her hands. Her fucking hands grabbing onto your hips as she guided you over her length. How could this be considered a sin? What on earth is sinful about a strange, powerful woman splitting you open on her cock for the first time in your life? On an altar? In front of a statue of said deity?

Nothing came to mind.

Dragging her hips back now, a whine espaced your lips as you desperately reached behind you to grab onto her, lifting up one leg onto the sacred surface of the altar to grant her deeper access.

„N-No-! No don’t leave-!“, her movement stilled.

„Leave? Oh, doll.“, with a harsh tug on your hair, you were forced to look up right into the divine sculpture, its stare seemingly burning itself into your soul.

„I‘m just getting started.“

The thrust that followed her sentence had you moaning across the whole cathedral immediately. Hands searching for the edge of the altar for at least some stability as her dick dragged into your cunt, grazing the sensitive spot that made your back arch and your toes curl.

Just like that. Over a decade of prayers, rituals, reciting. Down the drain like that.

But her cock forcing your tight walls apart with each thrust of her hips into yours made it SO worth it. Is this what you’ve been missing out on for your whole life on purpose? My, you were dumb. So dumb.

„And? Where is that god of yours now that you‘re allowing me to fuck that pretty pussy for the first time in a place of worship? Do you feel ashamed? Maybe even guilty? Let me assure you…“, Arlecchino made sure to hit your spot which each thrust of her hips, sloppy sounds filling the holy walls as your wetness dripped down your thigh, „They could not care less about you.“

Maybe she was right. Maybe they really don’t care about you. Or else why would they allow their former subordinate to fuck you here in their church? Right in front of their sculpture? Spread on the altar like it‘s already a daily routine, fill up your tight cunt to the brim and have your eyes roll into the back of your head?

But you couldn’t think about that right now. Not when her tip was kissing your cervix with each thrust. Not when her dick started to slightly twitch inside of you, being unaware of what is awaiting you. And what is that tightening feeling intensifying in your abdomen?

„Who is your god now?“

You didn’t know what this heavenly feeling was when you threw your head back, pussy clenching and making sure to get every single last drop out of the liquid she just spilled inside of you prior to your own climax, telling her over and over who your god is.

Her.

Death itself fucking you senseless in a cathedral was not on todays to-do list.

„There, there… sweet thing… having her first taste of salvation. My, how come your legs are already shaking? That good?“, her thumbs stroking gentle circles over your hips when you felt her chest pressing against your back.

„Don’t worry. I‘m not even remotely done with you.“

[tetzoro]

☽◯☾ - CAT AND MOUSE

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : Mihawk has returned from his latest mission but nothing sets his adrenaline off more than chasing you around the Manor. Better start running now.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. mihawk x reader ; predator/prey elements, implied yandere mihawk, unprotected sex, minimal prep, use of pet names (love, little pet, darling, dear), slight choking, brief mention of overstimulation, creampie : WC — 2.2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waxing Gibbous ! ꒱- Kinktober Masterlist

The manor at night was a labyrinth, each turn taking you further and further away from any of the exits. The hallways seemed to stretch longer, the floorboards creaking under your feet as you ran through the desolate hallway.

The dimming candlelight you were holding was doing nothing to help, only illuminating the space a few feet out in front of you. Who’s to say what was lurking in the darkest spots, watching your every move and more than ready to pounce on you.

And you knew he was somewhere.

The man who owned this house had come back from his latest mission to find you reading in his library, curled up like a docile housecat as you blissfully sifted through the pages of the book that held your attention. The attention that should’ve been on him.

Now you were racing through the halls, the sound of your nightgown swishing in time with your frantic pace that couldn’t compare to the sound thumping in your chest, blood rushing through your ears.

You round the corner, and land against something solid, the candle tray you were holding loudly clatters to the floor as you’re roughly pinned up against the wall with a shrill squeak.

“Hello my dear.” Mihawk purrs, his impermeable grip locks you in place so you could hardly move. “You didn’t really think you could escape me, could you?”

“Mihawk—“ You gasp out, a sound which he consumes swiftly, crashing his lips against yours. 

The kiss left you powerless, a divine hunger that has him feasting on you, determined to taste every inch of your mouth. A mix of teeth and tongue that churns your head dizzy, spinning uncontrollably as you part your lips and allow him access to all of his desires.

And he wastes no time, enclosed fists bunching up your nightgown until you hear the distinct rip of fabric in his rush. A shudder runs down his spine as he comes into contact with your bare cunt, gliding his lithe fingers over your slick folds.

“Such a naughty little thing.” He coos down at you, his voice dripping with a chilly condescension that has the hair on your skin rising heavenward. “Leaving yourself ripe for the taking like this. You’re lucky it was me that found you, otherwise I would've killed anyone who dared try it.”

You helplessly whine and squirm, knowing that when he was in a mood like this, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Just for you-“ You meekly manage to offer out just as two of his fingers bury themselves in you, mercifully preparing you for the real thing.

“Oh darling, of course it is.” Mihawk's gaze sets onto yours, the dwindling candlelight catching the almost voracious intent in his gilded eyes — the eyes of a predator who was about to feast upon the spoils of its prey. “Because you’re mine.”

His fingers swiftly slip out of you and you whimper at the loss, your bottom lip jutting out as he starts to unbutton his breeches. There’s a small shift in his expression, his gaze softening ever so slightly by the crinkle of his eyes as he takes in your pitiful pout. But his hunger prevailed, the canines of his teeth pulling against your lip and dragging it out before releasing it. A warning nip that told you he wasn’t in the mood to cater to your every whim. 

The truth is, he needed you right now. He longed for you to remind him that the world isn’t as cruel as he just experienced it. All the fighting and the bloodshed swirls around his brain and he so desperately wants to cling onto something else, something good, something like you.

The love of his life who indulges his every whim; that lets him hunt you down and take you as he pleases whenever the adrenaline kicks in and he has to burn it off somehow. For someone so cool and collected, you had a nasty little habit of bringing out this side of him. It only fueled his frustrating desires and fed into the primal need to fuck you as soon as he caught you between his hungry jaws.

“Please.” You breathe out, clinging onto him. Mihawk doesn’t wait another second before bullying his cock into you. The stretch was always a lot to take whenever there was minimal prep but he never gave you any time to dwell on it.

His lips found purchase in your neck, sucking and biting away as he bottomed out to hide his own sounds of pleasure. Your mewls were heaven to his ears, basking in the way your angelic cry of his name has him growing impossibly harder. 

There was no way he’d ever want to let you go, not something as good and pure as you were. After so many years of solitude and isolation, the world has provided him a gift he wouldn’t intend on wasting, squeezing  every bit of bliss out of it just to return it tenfold.

The distinct sensation of his beard rubs against your collarbone before Mihawk buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it was the salvation he had been searching for all this time.

“Absolutely marvelous.” He murmurs, before showing you no mercy. A skilled fighter who never pulled a punch was now unleashing his vicious attacks on your poor cunt. A haze washes over him like it does every time he returns back to you, a primal entity taking hold of his soul as he devours you inch by inch. “You were created for me to claim, to corrupt. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

“Yes.” The mewl bursts from deep within your chest, pleasure coursing through your veins as he begins to rut into you with a possessive desire — fingers clawing into your hips, clinging onto every inch of your divine body.

“Little vixen.” He pants, ragged with need. the dagger that lays on his chest begins to slap against his skin, the cool metal brushing along yours for a fleeting moment. “I don't think I ruined you enough before I left.”

Mihawk hastily spins you around, pushing you against the wall and getting drunk off of the surprise gasp you unleash. You can barely hold yourself up, hands meekly grabbing onto the slots within the stone. but nothing would ground you, the force of his thrusts caused the paintings that hung there to rattle, threatening to fall as he sped up.

“I won't be making that mistake tonight.” Mihawk bites your shoulder, the pinch of his teeth sinking into your skin before his tongue glides over it.

There's no stopping the cries that slip past your lips, letting one of the strongest men take what he needs from you, losing himself into a frenzied madness.

“M-mihawk—“ You pathetically call out, your vision blurring as you feel yourself growing closer to the edge you’re being forcibly thrown off of. 

“Yes? Use your words.” Mihawk presses himself deeper into you, the heat of his desire surrounding you and clouding your mind.

“A-ah! I’m—“ You try to warn him how close you are but he gives you a raspy chuckle. He could always read you like a book, hanging off of your each and every word, knowing exactly how to fill in the blanks.

“Oh I know you’re close. I can feel how tight you’re getting, how your legs tremble with need. You’ve always been a desperate little thing.” He growls gripping onto your hip. “I almost want to give you mercy but you’re not going to finish until I tell you. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes!” You wail out, trying to keep yourself from tumbling over the edge, knowing better than to go against his wishes. He'd only take away your release, not giving you another drop of bliss until he deemed fit.

“Good, that’s my good little pet.” The praise only worsens things — and he knows it. He continues to relentlessly drive into you, the feel of his pulsing cock keeping you split open as he takes everything you give him.

Mihawk grips the front of your throat, using it to pull you back so your head rests on his strong shoulder and causes your back to arch into him. With a slight pressure, he squeezes the area near your panicked pulse, breathing against your ear.

“Poor thing.” You drink up his voice like a shot of spiced rum, letting it burn all the way down your throat and already parched for more. “You’re practically shaking. Do you want to come?”

“Yes! Mihawk, please, I need—“

“Then come.” 

The order leaves you locked up in his embrace, the only place you truly belong. Caged by your desire and his obsession, you let go as your legs finally give out under the weight of your ecstasy. Mihawk collects you in his arms, his fingers dancing along your clit as you ride out your euphoric high.

A mantra of gratitude flows past your lips as you lean on him, entirely dependent on him.

“That’s it, surrender to me.” If you weren’t so gone, you’d be able to hear how wrecked he sounded, impossibly close to his own release. “Your pleasure belongs to me, you belong to me. you’re mine.”

One last forceful snap of his hips and the strongest swordsman in the world spills into you, fingers clawing into you as he unloads everything he’s pent up and saved just for you.

The same hands that have spent the last week doing the most unspeakable things now gently caress your back with a gracefulness forged from his deep admiration for you. Mihawk lifts you up, safely cradling you in his arms as he takes you back to your shared bedroom.

The room that felt so dark and disturbed in his absence breathes in a new life as the moonlight filters throughout it, casting everything in a heavenly glow as you properly reunite with your lover.

Mihawk doesn’t waste another moment as he lays you down in the bed, slipping himself back into you as he peppers your body with kisses. The pace he sets is slow, letting the slight bite of overstimulation roll over into a new path of pleasure, your body beginning to crave his once again.

You’re not sure how much time passes as he stays nestled in your cunt, murmuring the softest of praises with his deep, raspy voice. The man had come to claim you in a rapture that left you breathless, patiently waiting for you to return back down to him before resuming his conquest.

The sporadic fluttering of your walls gives him the go ahead, your head lifting up ever so slightly upon the plush, silk pillows that adorned your shared bed. A brief moment of silent communication, eyes expressing far more than words could ever say as the two of you were linked by the harmonious beat of your hearts.

Mihawk slowly rears his hips back, agonizingly so as his length leaves your cunt, feeling a sense of emptiness and need before he abruptly snaps them forward, once, twice, thrice. Each time burying himself deeper into you, his cock nudging its way in until he’s fully bottomed out. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the Warlord of the Sea had come to steal away all the oxygen you held in your lungs, the blood that ran through your veins, every single thought that’s ever crossed your mind.

He had you in his clutches. Mind, body, and soul.

Luckily, it went both ways.

“My love.” He gasps out, towering over you as you sink deeper into the mattress. Beads of sweat trail down his face, his necklace dangling before you. His fingers curl around your chin, moving you so your attention falls back to his mesmerizing eyes. “Are you still with me?”

You give a delirious nod. The earlier round had been much more heated, no room to stop as he took you against the walls. But now, back in the sanctuary of your shared bedroom, he melts into you.

“‘m here.” You slur, drowsiness starting to seep into you. But you didn’t want to stop, you couldn’t — not until he was satisfied. Your fingers trail along his face, twirling the slightly overgrown beard between your fingers. “And you need to shave.”

Mihawk laughs lowly, his cock twitching in you at the sudden sweet domesticity. He truly had been away from home for too long and missed your tender and caring nature.“Let’s worry about that after, hmm?” He leans down to kiss your neck, slowly. Taking his time as his lips press along your skin, leaving little marks as he goes. “I'm far from being done with you.”

tags : @thesunxwentblack @autumnstuffs @bontensh0e

[borathae]

Even Bunnies Bite

"When you get harassed during a night out - not once, but twice - Jungkook shows you that even gentle guys like him can fight, saving you from the harassers. You show him your apprecitiation for it once home. He deserves to know that he is the most perfect person to ever exist."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Romance, slight Angst in the beginning

Warnings: sexual harassment by strangers in a club, protective!Jungkook, he is so angry at first but calms down in her arms, the most romantic love confessions ever, they're so in love it's insane, cuddles and snuggles, this is so romantic you have no idea

Wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: someone sent in this idea for kinktober and i was inspired. as i was writing it, i realised that smut would be out of place here, hence you are getting a super romantic, emotional oneshot instead 😭i love this couple so much, you girlies have no idea 🤎

You like to go out with your best friends sometimes. You spend all day preparing for it. You take an Everything Shower, plan outfits and send them into the group chat, asking which outfit was the best. You look up hairstyle and makeup inspirations and try to recreate the looks as best as possible. You make sure to eat something just in case a drink or two will be bought later. Truly, nights out with your girls means a day full of self care and the most divine feminine energies and you are loving them.

Sometimes you also take your men with you. Yongsun brings Shiwon, Moonbyul brings whoever she is currently dating and you bring Jungkook. You don’t think that the nights with your men are any less fun, on the contrary, you love having Jungkook with you. 

Tonight is such a night. You put on a tight mini dress and some heels, feeling like it. Jungkook went for some skinny jeans and a shirt which he tugged into them. He matched the colour of his watch to the colour of your clutch. 

Yongsun and Shiwon came matching as well, Moonbyul came solo tonight because her last man dropped her. He was trash, so the loss isn’t big.

You hug and squeal in greeting, then enter the club together. 

The night is amazing. You dance until your feet hurt, share some drinks (except Jungkook and Shiwon because he was the driver), dance some more and talk whenever you find yourselves in a calmer spot. It is exactly how a night out should be and there is nothing that could spoil it.

Or so you thought because some men have nothing else but audacity. Stinking, annoying audacity.

You are on the dance floor with Moonbyul, shaking your booties to an amazing song, when you suddenly feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to turn around to know that this wasn’t Jungkook touching you. Moonbyul’s instant yell and her hand coming up to slap the guy away is another indicator. You jump away with the first touch, whipping around to yell at the guy.

“Fuck off!”

“Ladies”, he says, lifting his hands in defence, “no need to get emotional, I was just getting a feel of you.”

“You’re gonna get a feel of my fists if you’re not letting off of her”, Moonbyul spits, almost jumping at the guy if you weren’t holding her back. 

Moonbyul has always been a fighter and someone who takes no fucking shit from anyone, especially not from men. She says that it’s the reason why men are too afraid to stay with her to which you always tell her that these men wouldn’t be the right match for her anyways because she is a goddess and they are trash. She accepts it with a smile each time and a little kiss to your cheek. 

The dude she is currently waving her fist at, seems determined to change her mind. 

“Just one dance, alright?”

“No. Leave us alone.” 

“I’ll leave once I danced with you.” 

“You motherfu-”

“Unnie, let’s just go”, you stop her, dragging her away from him. 

He thankfully doesn’t follow you. 

“No, why are you dragging me away? I’ll punch him so hard.”

“That’s why I’m dragging you away. You’re gonna end up with a warning again.”

“He’d deserve it. The fucking audacity. Why do we have to stop having fun and dancing just because he decided? Why do we have to give up our space for him?”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Hyejin asks, sitting by the bar.

You and Moonbyul explain the situation to her and she rightfully gets angry with you. You all agree that it is unfair that you always have to give up your space when entitled men decide it’s time to invade it. 

In the time you curse the dude, he seems to leave for good. You share a shot then drag Hyejin onto the dance floor with you. It was clean again and Moonbyul a lot calmer. The music still was good and you try to let the incident be in the past. Soon you forget all about it, dancing happily with the other people around you invisible to the three of you. 

Jungkook and the others return from taking an air break outside in the time you are dancing. Yongsun drags Shiwon onto the dance floor while Wheein stays with Jungkook. She often stays close to him during your nights out because he makes her feel safe. Tonight is no different. 

“Want another drink, noona?” he asks her, waving the bartender to them.

“Really?” 

“Of course, what do you want?”

“Maybe just another beer?”

“Alrighty.” 

Jungkook orders for her and orders a coke for himself. He pays and clinks bottles with her. 

“Thank you for paying.”

“Don’t even mention it. Cheers.” 

“Cheers.”

They drink their beverages, moving their bodies to the music slightly and enjoying the view of the dancing people. 

Soon you and Hyejin return to the bar. You seek out Jungkook instantly, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him into a kiss. He smiles, rubbing your lower back. You break the kiss with a goofy giggle, smiling at him.

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Coke?” 

“Yes actually, thank you”, you say and drink from the bottle Jungkook offers. 

Hyejin in the meantime, convinced Wheein to join her on the dance floor.

“Can I keep this with you?” 

“Of course, give me”, you assure her, taking her beer and shielding the opening with your hand. Soon the two women disappear on the dance floor. Jungkook glances at the hand on the bottle. This has never been his instinct to do. He would take any of the girls’ bottles like this, but he never developed the instinct with his own drinks. He thinks it’s insane how different the world is for someone just because they have something different between their legs. 

You seem happy however, using the moment of togetherness to talk to him.

“I think we should go on Saturday because I checked the cinema and on Friday, there are only five seats in the front row left.”

You and Jungkook want to watch a new horror movie in the cinema and can’t decide on the day. You talked about it before meeting with the others.

“Saturday sounds good. It’s less stressful too because we have all day. We could go for dinner afterwards, somewhere nice maybe.”

“Yeah? Then I’ll book the tickets for Saturday.”

“Sounds good to me. And I’ll books us a table. Should we go for sushi?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’m so excited.”

“Me too.”

You grin at him, he retorts it. 

“Hey there”, a random guy comes up to you. Jungkook’s face darkens instantly, his alarm bells are ringing. He stays calm for now, wanting to give you a chance to handle it yourself.

You turn to him. His face is unfamiliar to you.

“Hey? I think you’re mistaking me with someone.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I’m Woonyong but you can call me whatever you like. How can I call you? Sexy or maybe mine?”

“Ah yeah no”, you say with a scoff, turning away from the guy.

“Hey, don’t ignore me”, the guy says and tries to turn you back to him by touching your shoulder.

You wriggle out of his touch at the same time as Jungkook tugs the guy’s hand away. He can accept people trying to flirt with you and then pissing off once you told them no, but he draws the line at them getting pushy and touching you.

“Don’t touch her”, he spits and drapes his arm over your shoulder protectively. “She already told you no.”

The guy studies Jungkook and lifts his hands in defeat.

“Dude, I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I thought she was still to take.”

“Well she’s not and even if she was, she’s not something to take. She’s a person not a thing to own.” 

“Chill man, you don’t gotta play white knight just to impress her.”

“I’m not playing anything, I’m being a decent human!” Jungkook yells.

“Chill dude, damn. She’s not gonna want you anyways.”

“Yah asshole, seriously piss off”, you speak up in a dark voice, “I literally said no to you and he’s my husband of five years, you’re just embarrassing yourself at this point.”

The guy gawks for a second then sends Jungkook a poisonous look.

“Fucking simp”, he hisses and leaves.

“I’ll actually punch you, come-”

“Jungkook.” You stand yourself in front of him, calming him down by kissing his lips. “He’s not worth it.”

“He objectified you. He’s worth it.”

“I’m okay, Bunny. I’m okay, thanks to you”, you assure him, kissing his cheek gently. 

“I can’t do this. I’m so angry. How dare he objectify you. You’re a person and, and you’re amazing a-a-and he made you a thing. And he touched you, he fucking touched you eventhough you said no. He is such an asshole, I’m gonna hurt him. I mean it.”

“Fuck him then, I’m alright. Promise.”

He looks at you, both angry and frustrated, but also deeply saddened and defeated.

“Do you wanna go home?” you suggest, rubbing his chest soothingly, “I think this club is kinda trash. I already had someone grope me on the dance floor and now this.”

“What? Who did that?!” 

“I don’t know why I told you that. I’m fine seriously.”

“No, it’s not fine. He has to pay. Who groped you? Show him to me, I’ll rip off his hands.”

“Okay let’s not do that”, you say in a chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck, “besides, Moonbyul already cursed him.”

“Good”, Jungkook says scanning his eyes over the crowd angrily. 

You shift his eyes to you by cradling his cheek.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” 

He nods his head, huffing out air as he pouts angrily.

“Okay. Let’s just say bye to the others and then leave.”

“If you see the guy, tell me.”

“Okay I will.”

The others bid you goodbye, wishing you a good night. You hand Wheein her beer and tell her that you took the best watch of it, then you leave. 

Jungkook puts his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him. You glance at his face. He has his scary look on, dark and serious. You don’t say anything. You simply smile to yourself and drape your arm over his waist. It’s actually so nice to know that you’re safe when he is with you. 

Jungkook drives the car home because you drank one beer and a shot. You don’t feel the effects at all, but you know better than to trust your judgement. People who drank alcohol, should never ever sit down in the driver’s seat of a car. No matter how little they feel the booze. 

Jungkook obviously is sober and uses almost the entire drive home to rant about “assholes like these dudes”. You let him because he seems so worked up about the topic that stopping him is impossible. For the last quarter of the drive, he has finally tired himself out, sharing the ride with you in silence. You appreciate it, watching the familiar streets pass you by.

You don’t get to talk in the elevator because there are other tenants and a few house worker who ride it with you. The first few moments in your penthouse are silent as well. You slip out of your shoes and jackets, where Jungkook helps you hang it up.

“Thank you Bunny.”

“Mhm.”

You glance at him. He has his back turned to you, busy with hanging his own jacket, but he is standing right in front of the mirror so his face was visible to you. He is clearly upset. You let out a deep sigh of defeat and put your clutch on the dresser so you have both hands free. Then you close the distance, calling his attention with a gentle hand on his right shoulder. Jungkook lifts his head and turns, lowering his head instantly when you run your fingers over his undercut. It is as if he leaning into the affection.

“Are you still upset, Bunnybaby?” you ask him.

He nods his head, tightening his features.

“I hate when men treat you like this”, he murmurs, voice shaking. You can’t decide if it’s anger or the first indicator of tears. “You don’t deserve it and, and I feel so helpless because whatever I do won’t make them see their shitty behaviour.”

“I know, baby, I know. It’s so frustrating and I share your feelings.”

He lets out a sound of defeat and nods his head, burying it in the crook of your neck within the next second, arms tightly around you. A whimper leaves him, he practically melts in your embrace.

“You deserve the world, but the world doesn’t deserve you”, he mumbles into you.

You smile, playing with his hair gently.

“You’re the sweetest person, my love. Mhm I gotta squeeze you.” You tighten the hug, shaking him from side to side gently. “I’m squeezing the frustration outta you, Bunnybaby.”

He lets it happen at first, but soon can’t stop himself from giggling. You chuckle, lessening the pressure to ruffle his hair.

“No but seriously, you’re the sweetest person and I’m so grateful for you standing up for me and other women. I know it feels like you aren’t achieving anything, but you are. It only takes one person to be brave enough to stand up and for it to mean that there will be others who follow.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. You know, Shiwon was always a good guy but he never really said anything when men were being pigs until you came around and actually stood up for us.”

“But Shiwon always says something to sexists.”

“Yes, because he saw you doing it and realised that he needed to change his ways.”

“Really?” he sounds in disbelief.

“Yes, really.”

“Wow”, he lets out in a breathy whisper, “wow”, his voice is louder and he steps back to lock eyes with you, “wow.”

You give him an adoring smile, cradling his cheeks.

“So keep being yourself and keep standing up for us. You’re helping, even if it feels frustrating to do.”

He shakes his head, “it’s not frustrating to help. It’s frustrating that I even have to help.”

“I know, it really is.”

“But ___, I made someone change his habits.” His face lights up. “I did it.”

“You did it.”

“Oh ___”, he swoops you off your feet and twirls you right here and now.

You laugh, holding onto his shoulders and throwing your head back in delight. He twirls three times then stands still with his arms under your butt and his sparkling eyes gazing up at you. You meet his pretty eyes, caressing his shoulders and neck.

“I will keep protecting you and standing up for you and being someone safe for you until you and every other woman can feel safe as well. The world doesn’t deserve you right now, so I’ll make it be worthy of you. I promise.”

“Oh Jeon Jungkook, you sweetheart of a person. I fucking adore you”, you get out, cupping his face to pull him into a deep kiss.

Once the kiss breaks, Jungkook’s eyes are hazy in love and he can’t stop smiling at you. You mirror his state, running your fingers over his temples and forehead.

“I really adore you, I really do”, you speak softly.

“I adore you too”, he says without hesitation, voice nothing but a whisper.

“I don’t think you understand how much I adore you though. I adore every single star in your galaxy brain, every single inch of your golden heart and every single particle of your perfect soul. I adore the way you think, the words you speak and how gently you voice them. I adore your silly jokes and adore your smile and laughter. I adore how you love so much and so big and so wholeheartedly because you cannot do it any other way. I adore that you are in love with love and that everything you do is done by your gentle, romantic hands. I adore how happy you get for food, how you hum to yourself when you do something, how you fill the room with warmth because you are such a warm presence. I fucking adore the very essence that makes you, Jeon Jungkook, and if I could turn back time, I would do everything the exact same way because I know that it would lead me to you one day.”

“Why are you saying that?” he presses out and instantly bursts into tears, dropping you on the floor gently to hug you as tightly as humanly possible.

“Oh sweetie, gosh, you gentle hearted soul you”, you say softly, hugging him just as tightly.

“You can’t just say that”, he sobs into your neck, making you chuckle and ruffle his hair.

“Goodness, you’re so sweet. Are you okay, Bunnybaby?”

“No”, he whimpers, shaking his head, “I’m so grateful and I wasn’t ready”, he gets out and sobs again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll give you a warning next time”, you joke, eliciting both a laugh and sob from him. He is truly the most endearing and wonderful person to ever exist.

“I’m so grateful. Thank you so much for saying all of this, oh god, I adore you so much. I, I could fill the entire galaxy with it and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“Oh my Jungkookie.”

You and he fall into a moment of silence where you hug and enjoy each other’s presence. The night might have ended in a messy, frustrating way but does it really matter when at the end of it you and he are still together? Does it really matter that people are awful when you and he have each other? Does it really matter when you can forget all about the outside world in each other’s arms?

The tranquillity of togetherness continues as the night grows older. You change into comfortable clothes and make a 1 AM snack with nothing but the stove light glowing. You eat cuddled up on the couch as you watch an episode of your favourite show and realize that the best part of going out will always be the coming home. You take separate showers for practicality reasons. You downstairs and he upstairs so you and he could be in bed sooner than later. It is already 3 AM by now and Jungkook has to wake up early tomorrow. 

He drops into the pillow, bangs hiding his eyes. You reach out with a soft chuckle, combing them out of his face. You tug them behind his ear, giving his neck a little scratch afterwards. He flutters his lashes, clearly enjoying the touch. 

“My Bunny.”

He smiles with his eyes and holds the open hand you had resting on the sheets. Your fingers intertwine as tightly as possible. You guide your touch to his shoulder and upper arm, drawing little hearts on his clothed skin.

“I think we should stop going out. It’s so nice to stay home”, he says sleepily.

“If we do that, we’ll just end up as cave goblins.”

“That wouldn’t be bad. At least we would have each other and nothing could hurt us.”

“Mhm maybe you’re right, but in the end nothing can really hurt us, can’t it? We have each other.” 

“Yeah”, he breathes and closes the distance, cradling the back of your head. He kisses your forehead then rests his own against it. His eyes fall closed. 

You don’t want to close your eyes, gazing at him. When he is as close to you as right now, you swear that you get soaked in the glow of his sunlight soul until the very colours of your own soul shine brightly. 

“I adore you”, he whispers.

“I adore you too”, you breathe. 

“I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep, you have an early morning anyways. I hate when you get little sleep.”

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna end this. We are so together.”

“We’ll be together tomorrow too, I promise.” 

“Not like this.” He pulls your closer, furrowing his brows. “Not like this. I won’t feel like this tomorrow.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like my soul is on my skin and I’m basically living in your own soul, like with each touch we share I find new meaning.” 

“Oh Kookie”, you cradle the back of his head and kiss his forehead. 

“Like this”, he gets out, hugging you as his face sinks into the softness of your chest. “It’s like I'm sinking into your essence. My soul feels so safe with you.”

“It is safe with me, my love”, you say softly, petting his hair soothingly.

Jungkook lets out a sound of relief, growing softer in your arms. You know that this means that he is losing his fight with sleep, that your warmth and scent are relaxing him beyond saving. You begin caressing his favourite spot on his head, the one which knocks him out within seconds. 

“___, you can’t ever get hurt”, he gets out in a quiet sigh, exhaling deeply afterwards. His body grows slack. He fell asleep. 

You kiss the crown of his head, keeping your nose buried in his hair afterwards. 

“Sleep tight, my gentle hearted love”, you whisper and close your eyes, drifting off to sleep as gently as a boat drifting away on a calm ocean. 

He says that his soul feels safe with you, unaware that he is the only person your soul ever felt safe enough to fall asleep with.

[kckt88]

Stake My Claim.

Summary:

Aemond knows his older brother lusts after his wife, so he decides to show Aegon what he will never have.

Warning(s): Angst, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviour, Dark Aemond, Uncle/Niece Incest, Begging, Smut, Kissing, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Mutliple Orgasms, Multiple Positions, Squirting, Spit Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Dom/Sub Aemond, Forced Voyeurism, Threat Of Murder.

AEMOND x O.C NIECE

Word Count: 8972

FILTHY/BASICALLY PORN WITH A SPRINKLE OF PLOT!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Prince Aemond Targaryen stood in the grand hall of the Red Keep, his violet eye sharp and brooding as he observed his older brother, Aegon.

The grand hall was filled with courtiers and lords, but Aemond’s attention was focused solely on one thing — the way Aegon’s gaze lingered far too long on his wife Vaelynn.

 Aemond’s fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, his jaw tightening as he watched Aegon, who was supposed to be speaking with one of the bannermen, glance surreptitiously in Vaelynn's direction.

It boiled Aemond’s blood. Aegon had his own wife, Helaena, yet he was letting his gaze drift hungrily toward Vaelynn as it often did.

It was as though Aegon saw everything in the world as his for the taking, as though he had some divine right to whatever he desired, including what belonged to Aemond.

He felt a surge of possessiveness, hot and fierce, rise within him.

Vaelynn was Aemond's — his wife, his partner. Originally their union had been one of family politics, and a desperate attempt to prevent the Targaryen bloodline from splintering into civil war.

It had been his father's final command, a last, dying plea for peace before Viserys had taken his final breath. Queen Rhaenyra, after dispatching those who conspired against her ascent had honoured her father's will and married her eldest daughter to Aemond.

A marriage that had finally united the two warring sides.

But Aemond’s devotion to his wife went far beyond a mere duty to his father’s wishes. Vaelynn was more than just a symbol of peace or a political pawn.

She was his wife, his future Queen, his precious jewel. Her long silver hair shimmered in the light of the torches, her Targaryen features regal and fierce, and every time Aemond looked at her, he was reminded that for once, he had something Aegon did not.

The thought of it thrilled him. Aegon, the first son from their father’s second marriage, had the ease of a life that required no true effort. Aegon, who had never needed to fight for anything.

Aegon, who had never known the pain of loss the way Aemond had when he'd claimed Vhagar and lost an eye in the process. Aegon, who still had the audacity to cast those lecherous glances at Vaelynn, as though he had any right to her.

Aemond’s eye darkened as he watched Aegon sip wine from his goblet, his lips curling into a lazy smirk as his gaze flickered yet again toward Vaelynn.

The possessiveness inside Aemond coiled tighter. He had trained with the sword, studied history and philosophy, and sacrificed his eye to gain his dragon.

But Vaelynn? He would not share her, not with anyone. Least of all with Aegon.

He stood straighter, squaring his shoulders as his gaze flicked to his wife. Vaelynn, graceful and poised, was speaking with a noble woman oblivious to the attention she was drawing from Aegon.

But Aemond saw it. He saw everything. And as his eye shifted back to Aegon, a small, dangerous smile curled on his lips.

The idea came to Aemond like a sudden spark of wildfire in his mind—filthy, depraved, but burning with a savage clarity that made his heart race.

He stood, still as stone, the sounds of the bustling court fading into the background as his thoughts darkened. The more he watched Aegon’s gaze track Vaelynn’s every movement, the more he fed that flame.

Aegon, who had always believed everything was his. Aegon, who likely thought that, with a few charming words and a lecherous smile, he could steal Vaelynn's affection. Aegon, who needed to be reminded—no, taught—a lesson. She belongs to me.

The thought festered inside him, twisting his possessiveness into something more potent, more vicious.

Aemond wanted Aegon to know exactly who Vaelynn belonged to, wanted him to feel the crushing weight of desire and envy as he watched her give herself to someone else—to Aemond. Her husband. Her lover. The one man who could claim her in ways Aegon could only dream of.

The wicked idea solidified; his mind drawn deeper into its shadows. He would make Aegon watch. It was brutal, vile, and the thrill of it surged through him like dragon fire.

He imagined it now, the moment clear as if it were unfolding before him—the two of them, Vaelynn and Aemond, wrapped in the heat of their bedchamber. He would touch her, undress her, claim her with a fervour that left no doubt of his dominion over her.

He would make sure Aegon could see it all—the soft, intimate whispers, the way Vaelynn would arch under his touch, the way she would moan his name as he fucked her. Not Aegon’s. Never Aegon’s.

Aemond’s lips twitched into a dark smile as he imagined the shock, the rage, the helpless hunger on Aegon’s face, forced to bear witness to what he could never have. He would see Vaelynn’s devotion, her loyalty, her desire—all directed at Aemond.

Aegon’s lustful glances, his smug arrogance, would be met with the bitter truth: Vaelynn was Aemond’s wife, bound to him by the law of gods and men, by their bodies entwined in the deepest of intimacies.

Aegon would learn, in the cruellest way, that some things—the most precious things—were beyond his reach.

The thought of it fuelled Aemond’s jealousy and his hunger, both fierce and untameable. Aegon would watch and suffer.

He would see with his own eyes the very thing he coveted most, knowing he could never touch it, never have it, never know the closeness that Aemond shared with her.

Aemond’s pulse quickened. He could already imagine how Vaelynn would react. She was no fool; she understood the tension between the brothers, though she had always carried herself with grace, with a quiet loyalty that was never in question.

And while Aemond had never spoken his suspicions about Aegon’s lecherous stares to her, he knew she was aware of the way her uncle lingered a little too long in her presence.

And so, when the time came, he would make sure Vaelynn knew what he intended. He would guide her through it, speaking to her in that commanding, silken tone that always stirred a reaction from her. And Aegon? Aegon would be forced to sit and watch, powerless, as Aemond claimed what was his.

The very thought was intoxicating. Aegon had always been handed the world without lifting a finger, always had what Aemond had worked so hard to achieve. But not this. Not Vaelynn.

Aemond would ensure that this one thing—his wife, his love, his life—would never be his brother’s, not in any way.

And Aegon would suffer for it.

Aemond moved across the hall with a quiet, purposeful grace, his singular violet eye locked onto Vaelynn. She was standing by the hearth, still speaking softly with one of the noblewomen.

The sight of her, regal and poised in her red and black gown, her long, platinum hair cascading down her back, made his chest tighten. She was so beautiful it hurt, and the more he watched, the more his need for her grew, sharp and insistent.

He reached her side, slipping in behind her with a smoothness that belied the dark thoughts racing through his mind.

His hand, warm and possessive, slid up her arm in a slow, deliberate motion, causing her to shiver beneath his touch. Her skin, soft like silk, prickled with goosebumps as his fingers caressed her, and he could hear her breath catch in her throat.

Bending forward, Aemond let his lips brush the delicate shell of her ear, his voice low, barely a whisper. “You look so beautiful tonight, my love,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “I cannot wait until we can make our excuses and leave this place. I want you. Desperately.”

His words were laced with hunger, with a barely contained desire that made her cheeks flush, her posture shift as she pressed ever so slightly back into him.

He saw the way her lips parted, her breath quickening at the feel of his hand against her, and it thrilled him. She was his. Every part of her.

Aemond’s lips grazed her cheek, a soft kiss that sent a shiver down her spine, and he delighted in her reaction—the way her body responded to him without hesitation, the quiet whisper of his name that left her lips, breathless and needy.

“Aemond-” she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear it.

They had been married for six moons now, and though their marriage had started with tentative touches and gentle care—her innocence as a maiden requiring patience—it had not taken long for the fire between them to ignite.

Their nights together had grown wild, untamed, as they allowed themselves to give in to the passion that simmered beneath the surface.

Aemond had learned her body as well as he knew his own—how to make her tremble, how to draw moans from her lips as he devoured her sweet cunny, or how to leave her breathless and begging for him as he sheathed his cock inside her and fucked her into their mattress.

And he never tired of her. His appetite for Vaelynn was insatiable, ravenous.

No matter the time of day, he found himself craving her, stealing moments when they could slip away, taking her in their bed or wherever else they found themselves.

It wasn’t unusual for him to claim her multiple times in a single night, each time more intense than the last. And she gave herself to him completely, their bodies entwined in a way that left no doubt of their mutual desire.

He pressed another kiss to her cheek, slower this time, savouring the way her body softened under his touch. But as he kissed her, his eye drifted across the room, locking onto Aegon.

His brother stood near the dais, a goblet in hand, his lips curled into a faint sneer as his gaze flicked toward them. Aegon’s face betrayed his jealousy, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with frustration.

Aemond smirked.

Without breaking eye contact with Aegon, he slid his hand to Vaelynn’s chin, tilting her head ever so slightly toward him. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

It was tender at first, but there was an underlying heat, a possessiveness that seeped into every movement. He kissed her with intention, with purpose, making sure Aegon could see every moment of it.

When he finally pulled away, Vaelynn’s eyes fluttered open, her cheeks flushed from the kiss, her breath uneven. Aemond’s smirk widened as he looked back at Aegon, whose face had twisted into a seething mask of jealousy.

Let him watch, Aemond thought. Let him burn with desire for what he will never have.

Vaelynn was his, and he would make sure Aegon knew it.

Aemond's grip tightened on Vaelynn’s waist as he whispered against her lips.

“Soon, my love-soon.”

Later that night, after Vaelynn had bid her goodnight to her mother Rhaenyra and her father Daemon, Aemond took her hand with a sense of urgency that made her heart race.

His grip was firm, and the fire in his eye was unmistakable as he led her through the quiet, winding halls of the Red Keep, back to their chambers.

The night air was cool, but the heat between them was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface.

When they reached the door to their chambers, Aemond paused. He turned to her, his gaze intense, filled with desire.

Before she could speak, he pressed her against the stone wall, his hands moving over her body with a hunger that made her gasp. His lips captured hers in a kiss so passionate it left her breathless, the force of it consuming them both.

She felt his hands roam her curves, caressing her waist, her hips, the press of his body hard and unrelenting against hers.

Aemond’s arousal surged through him, a fierce, insatiable need that had built throughout the evening. Gods, this woman was something else entirely.

Never had Aemond felt so excited. Vaelynn wasn’t just his wife—she was his equal, his match in every way, and the very thought of her, of what they shared, sent waves of desire crashing through him.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ragged, he rested his forehead against hers. They stood there, panting in the dim corridor, the space between them crackling with unspoken intensity.

“I have a plan,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. His fingers brushed her cheek, tender despite the raw desire coursing through him. “I want Aegon to watch.”

Vaelynn’s breath caught, her body still humming from the kiss. She looked up at him, confused at first, but she didn’t speak. Aemond continued, his tone low and dark, as he traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.

“I want to show him that you belong to me, that you’re mine and mine alone. He thinks he can stare at you, desire you, but he will never have you. I want him to see it, Vaelynn,” he whispered, the possessiveness in his words unmistakable. “I want him to watch as I take you to bed, to see what he can never have. He needs to know.”

As he spoke, Vaelynn remained silent, her eyes wide but unreadable. For a brief moment, fear flickered inside Aemond’s chest.

Had he gone too far? Had his twisted desire to show his dominance over Aegon horrified her? He was prepared for her to push him away, for her to recoil at his suggestion, to tell him that this need, this dark urge, was too much.

But then, she surprised him.

Vaelynn surged forward, her lips crashing into his with a ferocity that caught him off guard. The kiss was wild, primal, filled with a heat that burned hotter than any flame.

She kissed him as if she could devour him, her hands pulling him closer, her body pressing against his with an intensity that left him breathless.

When she finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her breathing heavy, her eyes locked onto his, gleaming with the same fierce hunger he felt.

“I understand,” she whispered, her voice low, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “I understand why you need this, Aemond. And I want it too.” Her words sent a flare of arousal through his body, her breath hot against his skin. “I want to show him that I belong to you. I want him to see what he can never have.”

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest. They truly were a match made in heaven, each feeding off the other’s desire, each willing to push the boundaries to claim what was theirs.

His possessiveness was met with her fiery loyalty, and he had never felt so connected to anyone in his life. She understood him—his demand to be in control, his hunger for dominance, his need to be loved—and she shared it.

Vaelynn’s lips curved into a smirk, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “But how, Aemond? How do you plan to get Aegon to our chambers?”

Aemond’s own smirk deepened as he stepped back, his hand reaching for the door.

Vaelynn’s brow furrowed in confusion as she stepped into their chambers, the door creaking open.

The room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of candlelight, casting long shadows across the floor. Her breath hitched when her eyes fell on the chair facing their bed.

Aegon sat bound to it, his arms tied to the wooden frame with thick rope, his face twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. His mouth opened in a snarl as he saw them, his eyes wild with disbelief.

“Let me go, Aemond!” Aegon barked, his voice filled with rage as he struggled against the restraints. “This is madness!”

But Aemond only smiled, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him with a heavy click of the lock.

“No, brother,” he said, his voice calm and dark as he moved closer to Vaelynn, his hand resting possessively on her waist.

Vaelynn’s eyes met Aegon’s, and she could see the mix of desire and fury in his gaze.

But all she felt was excitement, her body pulsing with the same hunger Aemond had stirred in her earlier.

She looked back at her husband, her heart pounding, and whispered, “Show him.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile as he turned her toward the bed. "With pleasure."

Aemond’s grip tightened around Vaelynn’s waist as he guided her toward the bed, positioning her directly in front of Aegon.

The soft flicker of candlelight cast shadows along her figure, making her pale skin glow in the dim room. Aemond’s eye never left his brother, his gaze sharp and filled with cruel satisfaction as he reached for the delicate laces of Vaelynn’s gown, his fingers working methodically to undo each knot.

Aegon, bound to the chair, turned his gaze to the floor, his jaw clenched, refusing to look. The tension in the room was thick, a palpable mixture of desire, jealousy, and anger.

Aemond noticed his brother’s reluctance and snarled, his voice cold and commanding.

“You’ve had no problem gazing upon my wife before,” Aemond said, his tone laced with venom as his fingers slipped the final lace free, the gown hanging loosely from Vaelynn’s shoulders. “So, you will watch now.”

Aegon hesitated, his body still for a moment, the weight of Aemond’s words sinking in. Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes lifted, dark and stormy, settling on Vaelynn.

Aemond smirked in satisfaction, feeling the power of his control over his older brother. With a gentle tug, the silken material of Vaelynn’s gown slid off her shoulders, falling in a soft pool at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a sheer shift that clung to the curves of her body.

Aegon bit his lip, hard, as his eyes betrayed him, taking in the sight of her. The translucent fabric left little to the imagination—the curve of her breasts, the soft swell of her hips, the slender lines of her waist.

She was breathtaking, every inch of her a testament to the beauty of their Valyrian blood. Aegon’s chest rose and fell, his breathing uneven as he fought to control the surge of arousal that rushed through him.

A barely audible groan slipped past his lips as he stared at her, helpless to look away.

Aemond’s lips curled into a smile as he stood behind Vaelynn, his hands sliding up her sides, possessive and deliberate. He leaned in close to her ear, his voice soft, but loud enough for Aegon to hear every word.

“Isn’t she beautiful, brother?”

Aegon remained silent, his jaw clenched, struggling to maintain some semblance of control as he watched Vaelynn’s bare form through the thin shift. His eyes flickered, a brief spark of rebellion in them, but Aemond wasn’t having it. His patience wore thin, his fingers gripping Vaelynn’s waist a little tighter as his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“I asked you a question,” Aemond growled, his eye blazing with anger as he met Aegon’s defiant stare. “Isn’t. She. Beautiful?”

Aegon swallowed hard, his pride battling against the situation he found himself in. Finally, his voice, rough and barely more than a strained whisper, broke the silence.

“Yes,” he muttered, his eyes flicking briefly to Aemond before falling back to Vaelynn. “She’s beautiful.”

Aemond’s smile returned, smug and triumphant, as he ran his hands over Vaelynn’s body, slowly peeling the sheer shift away from her, leaving her completely bare.

The cool air kissed her skin, but it was Aemond’s touch that made her shiver. He stood back, admiring her for a moment, before his gaze flicked once again to Aegon.

“Good,” Aemond murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “I want you to remember this, brother.”

Without taking his eyes off Aegon, Aemond reached down and undid the belt that held his sword and dagger, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clang.

As the weapons hit the stone floor, Aemond’s hands moved to the rest of his clothes, removing them one by one with deliberate slowness, savouring the moment. His tunic fell to the floor first, followed by his trousers and small clothes, leaving him just as bare as Vaelynn.

His body, lean and strong, was a testament to the hours he spent training, every scar a reminder of his victories.

He stood tall, his presence commanding, as he turned to Vaelynn, his gaze softening when it landed on her.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire, the tension between them electric. Aemond’s lips quirked into a small, possessive smile as he cupped her chin, tilting her face up toward him.

“This-” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, “-is what he will never have.”

And with that, Aemond kissed her, slow and deep, his hand tangling in her hair as he claimed her in front of his brother.

It was a kiss filled with all the passion, possession, and love that had been building since the moment they wed, a reminder of who she belonged to, now and forever.

Aemond circled Vaelynn slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, his eye tracing every curve of her bare body like a predator stalking its prey.

There was an intensity in the way he moved, his gaze devouring her from every angle as if he were committing every inch of her to memory. His breath was heavy with arousal,

Aemond’s gaze darkened with satisfaction, his eye flickering between Vaelynn and Aegon. The sight of his brother, bound and helpless, his face twisted in frustration and arousal, was everything Aemond had hoped for.

It fuelled the possessive fire burning within him, and he was eager to remind Aegon just how much power he held.

With a commanding presence, he stepped back from Vaelynn, his voice low and authoritative as he spoke.

"Kneel" he ordered, his words cutting through the thick air of the room.

Without hesitation, Vaelynn obeyed. She sank gracefully to her knees, her eyes never leaving Aemond's as she positioned herself in front of him, her posture submissive yet confident, entirely at his mercy.

The trust between them was palpable, a silent understanding that neither needed to voice.

Aegon whimpered from his chair, his restraint becoming more unbearable with each passing moment. He struggled against the ropes binding his arms, his face contorting with a mix of desperation and desire.

The sight of Vaelynn kneeling, so willing and obedient to Aemond’s command, only added to his frustration. A low groan escaped his lips, but he was powerless to look away, no matter how much he wanted to.

Aemond’s lips curved into a smug smirk, his eye gleaming with satisfaction as he watched his brother squirm.

Slowly, he reached down and caressed Vaelynn’s cheek, his touch gentle and reverent despite the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb brushed over her soft skin, tracing the line of her jaw before he brought it to her plump lower lip, pressing against it with a possessive tenderness.

“Open your mouth,” he murmured, his tone commanding yet intimate, a whisper meant only for her.

Vaelynn, always eager to please him, parted her lips without hesitation, her breath warm against his thumb as she obeyed his command.

Aemond smirked and then spat into her mouth.

“Swallow” he ordered.

Vaelynn closed her mouth and smiled as she swallowed.

Aegon’s strained breaths filled the room, his frustration palpable as he watched, his eyes wide and dark with envy.

He bit his lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds of his helpless arousal, but it was clear that the sight of Vaelynn submitting so completely to Aemond was almost too much for him to bear.

Every twitch of his muscles, every laboured breath, was a testament to the agony of witnessing something he would never experience for himself.

Aemond’s smirk grew as he glanced back at Aegon, watching his brother's pitiful struggle. "You see, brother," Aemond purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "She belongs to me-and you will watch."

Aemond extended his hand to Vaelynn, his grip firm yet gentle as he helped her to stand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt the pull of his intensity in every movement, in every glance.

He guided her to the bed, his eye never leaving her, a predator ensuring that his prize remained within reach.

Vaelynn sat gracefully on the edge of the bed, her bare form glowing in the candlelight, a vision of ethereal beauty.

She stole a glance at Aegon, bound and seething in the chair across the room, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his gaze locked helplessly on her body.

Despite himself, Aegon couldn't tear his eyes away, watching her with a mixture of shame and longing. The sight only fuelled the dark satisfaction building inside Aemond.

Vaelynn's attention returned to Aemond, her hands slowly moving up his lean body, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles with delicate but purposeful intent.

She felt the tremble in his body as her nails scraped lightly across his skin, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound primal, raw with desire.

Her touch held him captive, and as her hands continued their slow, torturous path, she whispered to him, her voice soft but commanding. “Take off your eyepatch, I wish to gaze upon your beauty in its entirety”

Aemond hesitated for only a moment, his lips parting in a quiet whimper, the sound so rare for him, so vulnerable.

She knew what her words, her praise, did to him—how they disarmed him in ways no one else could.

His heart raced in his chest, and the possessiveness in him faltered for just a second, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Without a word, Aemond reached up and pulled the eyepatch from his face, the black leather slipping from his fingers to fall carelessly to the floor.

He stood before her, exposed in a way few had ever seen him, the sapphire in place of his left eye glinting coldly in the dim light. It was a mark of his strength, his pain, his triumph—a reminder of what he had lost and what he had gained in return.

Vaelynn gazed up at him, a soft smile curving her lips as her eyes traced over his face.

The sapphire, so stark and striking, only added to the beauty that was uniquely his. He stood before her, raw and powerful, and her heart swelled with affection and desire.

“Ñuha gevie zaldrīzes”  whispered Vaelynn, her voice laced with adoration (My beautiful dragon).

Aemond’s breath hitched at her words, his body responding to the warmth of her gaze and the tenderness in her voice. She saw all of him—the scars, the vulnerabilities—and still, she called him beautiful.

It was a power she wielded over him that no one else could ever claim. His hands trembled slightly as they came to rest on her shoulders, his thumb tracing soft circles on her skin as he gazed down at her with something that went beyond possession.

Vaelynn leaned forward and pressed a series of tender kisses to his bare stomach, her lips brushing against his pale skin.

Aemond closed his eye and let out a low groan as he felt her teeth grazing against him.

Aegon’s gaze was transfixed, no longer able to look away as Vaelynn leaned forward, her bare form moving with graceful, deliberate intent.

She pressed her soft lips to Aemond’s stomach, her touch feather-light, trailing kisses along the ridges of his taut muscles. Each kiss sent a ripple of pleasure through Aemond, his body responding to her affection with a barely contained hunger.

Aegon’s insides twisted in a storm of jealousy and desire, watching helplessly from his bound position as his younger brother stood in a state of near reverence before Vaelynn.

Aemond’s hands instinctively moved to her hair, his fingers weaving through the silver strands as he tilted his head back, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

His voice, deep and rough with need, cut through the silence like a blade, the words slipping from his lips in their mother tongue, soft and intimate.

“kostilus, ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he rasped, his voice a low growl, urging her on with each kiss. (Please, my beautiful wife).

Aegon’s jaw clenched at the sound of Aemond’s voice, rasping and raw with devotion for Vaelynn. There was something different in it—a passion that Aegon had never heard before.

The language of Old Valyria, spoken between them with such intimacy, felt like a knife twisting in Aegon’s gut. It was as if he were not only excluded from the moment but from a bond that ran deeper than flesh—a connection forged in fire and blood, something he could never possess.

As Vaelynn continued her trail of kisses, Aemond’s grip on her hair tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eye was half-lidded, his focus entirely on the woman before him.

Then Vaelynn moved back to lay on the bed, her bare body on display, as she reached out for Aemond and pulled him on the bed with her.

“Let me show Aegon how I take care of you” muttered Vaelynn as she placed kisses along Aemond’s sharp jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she looked up at Aegon before taking one of Aemond’s nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down gently.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does ñuha dārys like that?” asked Vaelynn as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same attention, (My King).

“Oh. Gods” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

Aemond’s gaze moved to Aegon who was watching intently.

Aegon’s body tensed, his heart racing as the jealousy burned hotter, more potent with each passing moment. His gaze flicked between the two of them, torn between wanting to look away and the torturous need to watch.

When Vaelynn reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

“Kostilus ñuha jorrāelagon” begged Aemond (Please my love).

“Ao līs umbagon ñuha zaldrīzes” replied Vaelynn (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond stared down at his naughty wife, his mouth hanging open as Vaelynn’s warm, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Vaelynn” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through his wife’s silver hair.

Vaelynn ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Vaelynn moved and engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth again, he squeezed his eye shut.

But Aemond forced himself to open his eye, he needed to watch as his wife sucked his cock. 

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Vaelynn’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Vaelynn smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

Then she moved her other hand over his stones, caressing them before she slid one of her fingers towards his hole.

“F-Fuck” moaned Aemond as she gently massaged over the tight ring of muscle.

“Do you like that ñuha raqiarzy?” asked Vaelynn (My beloved).

“Y-Yes” exclaimed Aemond.

“What about this?” asked Vaelynn as she put a finger into her mouth and then returned it to his hole before she gently slid the tip of her finger in.

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

“More?”

“Y-Yes. P-Please. M-More” groaned Aemond.

Vaelynn responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of her husband’s cock as she could, whilst her finger slowly moved inside him.

“Another-p-put another inside me” begged Aemond his body rocking against her.

Vaelynn smiled and gently added another and Aemond began to whimper as she curled her fingers inside him.

Aegon’s fingers clawed at the wooden arms of the chair, his nails digging into the grain as if he could tear himself free by sheer force of will.

Watching them—watching Vaelynn touch Aemond so intimately and seeing the way his brother unravelled under her hands—was pure agony.

Aegon bit his lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste filling his mouth as he tried to stifle the sound that threatened to escape him.

“Shit-Vaelynn I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

Not hearing Aegon’s moaned gasp of “Fuck”

His wife took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

Aegon whimpered slightly at the sound of his brother’s climax, the sound of his voice—so vulnerable, so exposed—made something tighten in Aegon’s chest.

He had never seen Aemond like this, never imagined that his unyielding brother could be reduced to such a state, trembling and begging at the hands of a woman. And yet, here he was, utterly undone by her.

When Aemond recovered, he saw Vaelynn’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking husband?” asked Vaelynn.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond as Y.N removed her fingers from him and wiped them on the sheets.

“Are you sure” asked Vaelynn

“Sit on my fucking face” ordered Aemond, ignoring his brother’s small whimper.

Vaelynn hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cock sleeve" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Vaelynn’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelynn her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it ñuha dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelynn.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

Aegon’s breath came in shallow gasps, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as the sight of Vaelynn rolling her hips as his brother devoured her, he was painfully aroused, his body aching with desire.

His mouth was dry, his throat tight, and despite his best efforts, tears of frustration welled in his eyes, blurring his vision.

He blinked rapidly, trying to force them back, but the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.

“Ooooh A-Aemond” shrieked Vaelynn.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelynn, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelynn "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Vaelynn; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it baby, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond, his cock was so hard that it was boarding on painful.

Vaelynn was giving off a slew of whispered swear words, moans, and pleas.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat, then he grasped her thigh with his other hand and rolled her onto the bed, her back colliding with the soft mattress with a dull thud.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Vaelynn at the sudden movement.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Finally, he felt Vaelynn’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Vaelynn’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife’s centre as she squirted all over his face.

Aegon’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening as realization dawned on him. Gods, no-did she really just squirt?

He had heard about it before, whispered in courtly gossip and salacious tales shared over wine, but never had he witnessed it himself. He had always imagined, fantasized, but no woman had ever done this for him.

The sight was overwhelming, mesmerizing in its erotic intensity. Aegon’s chest tightened, his arousal spiking to an almost painful level.

A low groan escaped his throat before he could stop it and he felt his cock throb as he spilled his seed.

The look of pure, tortured desire on Aegon’s face did not escape Aemond.

"Did you just spill in your breeches?" Aemond drawled, his voice low.

The words hit Aegon like a blow, and his entire body tensed, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. He tried to avert his gaze, his lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out.

Aemond’s smirk deepened, his eye glittering with dark amusement as he watched his brother’s reaction.

"-I thought so." Aemond mused, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Aegon’s humiliation was written all over his face. He could feel the sticky warmth in his breeches, the evidence of his disgrace.

His stomach twisted with shame as he realized he had been so consumed by the sight of Vaelynn and Aemond that he had lost control of himself entirely.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he returned his attention to Vaelynn and pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Vaelynn.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his wife.

Aemond moved up Vaelynn’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Vaelynn, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Vaelynn’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Vaelynn desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Vaelynn.

"Patience, ñuha dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up his wife’s neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaelynn.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Fucking mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Vaelynn dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

Aegon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still reeling from the humiliation of Aemond’s mocking words, but he couldn’t stop the stirring deep inside him as Vaelynn and Aemond began again.

The fire between them was unmistakable, an unrestrained passion that filled the room with heat and tension so thick it was almost suffocating. He watched, helpless, as they moved together in a rhythm that was both primal and intimate, their bodies completely in sync.

 “Gods-" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what his wife was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Vaelynn’s legs onto his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

His wife folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelynn.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Vaelynn’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh, before he sunk his teeth into her.

“AEMOND” squealed Vaelynn.

“Hmmm”

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Vaelynn, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Vaelynn.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Vaelynn as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Vaelynn once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Vaelynn, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please ñuha raqiarzy” wailed Vaelynn (My beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Valzȳrys-” whimpered Vaelynn (Husband).

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Vaelynn’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Vaelynn took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what his wife wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Vaelynn’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Each movement was filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger that Aegon had never witnessed before.

Vaelynn’s cries of pleasure were muffled by the mattress, her face buried in the soft fabric.

Her body arched in response to Aemond’s relentless rhythm, each cry escaping her lips in a series of desperate moans that reverberated through the room.

Aemond’s grip on Vaelynn was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Vaelynn took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body trembled under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Vaelynn’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held his wife tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Vaelynn her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

“Look at her, brother,” rasped Aemond, his voice laced with dark satisfaction and dominance. “See who she belongs to.”

The words were a taunt, a challenge, and Aegon’s heart pounded with a mixture of torment and desire as he heard them. His eyes were locked on Aemond, unable to look away from the intense display of ownership and passion.

Aegon’s moans escaped his lips before he could stifle them, a sound of frustrated longing and tortured arousal. His body ached with the need for release as he watched the scene unfold, every movement of Aemond and Vaelynn driving him further into madness.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Vaelynn.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and laid across the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelynn breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Ooooh” gasped Vaelynn as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelynn dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“See how well she takes me, brother,” Aemond rasped, his voice dripping with satisfaction and dominance. “She feels divine, wrapped around me, her body made to fit perfectly.”

His words were a taunt, a declaration of his complete claim over Vaelynn.

Aemond’s gaze never wavered from Aegon, the intensity of his stare a clear challenge. “I’m going to get her with child,” he said, his voice filled with a dark promise. “You’ll see her all round and full of me, carrying the future King-my heir, my legacy upon the Iron Throne”

The declaration was meant to wound, to make Aegon feel the full weight of his helplessness. But it was Vaelynn’s response that drove Aegon to the edge of sanity.

Her voice, desperate and breathless, cut through the room. “Yes-yes. I’ll give you a son-please put a babe in me” she pleaded, her words sending a shiver down Aegon’s spine.

Aegon’s breathing became ragged, his body straining against the ropes that bound him, his face flushed with a combination of desire and frustration.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelynn as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelynn her vision going white as she came around his cock.

 Her husband pulled her closer and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

Aemond’s grip on Vaelynn tightened as he neared his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful.

The noises he made were almost otherworldly, a mix of guttural growls and breathless moans.

“I love you-I love you-I love you” groaned Aemond as he exploded.

The sight of Aemond’s utter surrender, the way he tensed and then finally collapsed onto Vaelynn, left Aegon unable to control himself any longer.

His own release came suddenly, a hot, throbbing wave that he could do nothing to stop. He spilled in his breeches once more, the sharp pleasure of his climax mixing with his lingering frustration and shame.

The noise of Aemond’s climax was a final, excruciatingly beautiful sound that Aegon could barely tolerate.

His brother’s ragged breathing, the way he clung to Vaelynn, the sheer force of his release—it all combined into a potent reminder of his own helplessness.

Aemond’s body tensed against Vaelynn’s, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. Then, as his pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto her, his chest heaving as he relaxed against her.

Vaelynn’s body shifted slightly beneath him, her own breath coming in soft, satisfied sighs as she remained still, embracing the weight of her husband.

She looked up at Aemond with a tender, loving gaze, her hands caressing his back as he rested against her, his breathing gradually slowing.

Aegon watched, his body trembling and his mind reeling, as Aemond leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaelynn’s lips.

The tenderness of the moment was a stark contrast to the primal intensity that had preceded it. Aemond slowly withdrew from her, the sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light as he moved gracefully off the bed.

His softened cock shining with the combination of Vaelynn's slick and his spend.

Aemond bent down to retrieve his dagger from where it lay on the floor. The metal glinted in the dim light as he unsheathed it.

His gaze, sharp and knowing, flicked toward Aegon, who was still bound to the chair. Aegon’s face was flushed, tears streaking down his cheeks, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

The sight was one of raw humiliation, and Aemond’s smirk widened with a mixture of satisfaction and dominance.

With deliberate slowness, Aemond approached his brother. The blade in his hand catching the light as it moved.

He leaned in close, the tip of the dagger brushing against Aegon’s wet crotch.

Aemond’s voice was a low growl, laced with a dangerous edge. “If I ever catch you looking at my wife again, I’ll cut you from cock to throat” he said, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “Do you understand?”

Aegon nodded quickly, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. The sight of the dagger’s point so close to him, coupled with Aemond’s menacing promise, left him feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Good,” Aemond said, his smirk growing colder. “Now get the fuck out.”

With shaking limbs, Aegon stood up, his movements unsteady as he hurried toward the door, slamming it shut behind him with a force that echoed through the corridor.

Aemond dropped the dagger onto the floor with a casual flick of his wrist. The metal clattered loudly, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. He turned back to the bed, his expression softening as he returned to Vaelynn.

He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Her body fit perfectly against his, and she sighed contentedly, her voice a soft whisper as she said his name.

“Rest now, my love,” Aemond murmured into her hair, his tone tender and protective.

As Aemond lay wrapped around Vaelynn, his heart still thrumming with the aftermath of their passion, a sense of deep, primal satisfaction settled over him.

The confrontation with Aegon had been brutal, but it was necessary.

The lesson he had imparted to his brother had been harsh, but it was a declaration of his dominance, a claim he needed to establish.

Aemond’s gaze, now soft and contemplative, drifted over to where Aegon had previously been bound. The sight of his brother’s humiliation, the way Aegon had been forced to witness something so deeply personal and intimate, filled Aemond with a grim sense of triumph.

Vaelynn belonged to him, and he had made it unmistakably clear that no other man would ever be allowed to infringe upon that bond.

Aemond’s mind replayed through the events that has transpired—Each moment was a reaffirmation of his claim, a way to mark his territory and ensure that his position was unassailable. The lesson had been as much about asserting his dominance as it had been about protecting what was rightfully his.

He looked down at Vaelynn, her face peaceful as she nestled against him, her breaths slow and steady.

She was his wife, his partner, and the thought of anyone else daring to come between them was unthinkable.

The possessiveness that surged through him was a deep, almost primal need to ensure that she was safe, cherished, and unequivocally his.

Aemond’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to Vaelynn’s forehead. The warmth of her body against his, the sense of completeness he felt in her presence, reinforced his conviction.

The message to Aegon had been clear, and Aemond took a dark pleasure in knowing that his brother had been forced to witness the depth of his commitment and possessiveness.

In the quiet aftermath, Aemond allowed himself a moment of triumph. He had secured his place, solidified his claim, and made it painfully clear that Vaelynn was his and his alone.

The lesson had been harsh, but it was necessary to protect what he valued most.

As he held Vaelynn close, the sense of satisfaction filled him, a reminder of the lengths he would go to ensure that no one could ever challenge his claim.

Perhaps her bastard Strong brother Jacaerys needed teaching the exact same lesson, as his gaze would often linger upon Vaelynn far to long for Aemond's liking and it made his blood boil.

Yes-he would teach him who she belonged too and he would enjoy doing it, for she was his and his alone.

No one would take her from him.

NO ONE.

A.N - Is Aemond bat shit crazy? Let me know your thoughts......

[mokulule]

While I fail to focus after my night shift have a peek at another of my brain worms

Untitled, I am still waiting for that moment of divine inspiration. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)  Fandom: DP x DC 

The only sounds in the Batcave were the bats chittering amongst themselves high above. Bruce rubbed his chin absently as he took in the information displayed on the large screens with narrowed eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. Somebody was lying.

No matter how many times he looked over the information, that was his conclusion. It nagged at him that he didn’t know what, if any, information he could use. He hated being so in the dark. 

A silent notification in the corner of his screen alerted him to a call from the Watchtower. He took it and Superman’s face appeared in a smaller rectangle on the center of the screen. Bruce kept outwardly placid but from behind the cowl nobody would see the way his gaze instantly zeroed in on the massive black eye Superman had acquired, and the general strain around his unhurt eye and mouth. He was worn out. 

“Phantom has been apprehended,” Superman said with a long sigh. It had clearly not been an easy fight. 

“I’ll be there,” Batman said and ended the call. Maybe they’d finally get some real answers. 

He stood and walked towards the zeta tube. Another call came in, this time on the comm in his cowl. 

“Hood,” he greeted.

“Hey, old man. I’m at the location. You were right it’s absolutely crawling with the white suits and their weaponry is not like anything I’ve seen before.”

Bruce felt like a hand squeezed his heart. Hood out of anyone knew his weapons, if he didn’t know them they weren’t on the market. He absolutely hated asking any of his kids to walk into an unknown situation. Unfortunately he didn’t have any other options. 

“Be careful, Hood.”

“Aww, is that worry I detect?”

“Just don’t take unnecessary risks,” Bruce cautioned.

“You wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t think it was necessary, old man. Don’t worry, I’ll get you your intel.”

Bruce grunted. Jason was right. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it was important. Didn’t mean he had to like it, nor the fact that Red Hood’s criminal reputation made him perfect for breaking into a government building; even if Hood was seen the Justice League kept plausible deniability. 

Everyone knew Red Hood was a wild card. 

“Check in regularly with Oracle.”

He could practically feel the way Jason rolled his eyes at him.

“Not my first rodeo, B.”

With that the connection cut off. Bruce couldn’t help the bad feeling he had about everything. 

He really hated this stage of an investigation. 

Two months ago the US government contacted the Justice League about a problem. Several bases of a government agency named the GIW had been hit by a malicious creature they called Phantom. The attacks had been gaining in severity and frequency and their measures had so far failed to stop it. 

Since then, a member of the Justice League had arrived too late to five such attacks. They’d stood no chance against Phantom, who’d then disappeared, living up to the name.

To their eyes Phantom was outwardly a humanoid, possibly a meta or alien. The GIW called him a ghost from a different dimension.

They had been at a loss of how exactly to contain such a powerful foe, who not only could go toe to toe with their heavy hitters like Superman, but also disappear by means unknown. This time they’d been prepared. They’d had various team configurations ready to go depending on who was available. 

Something that seemed to have paid off, but Bruce did not like that Clark was injured. Because if Clark was injured…

A zeta tube ride later and he met Superman on the Watchtower. Something that hadn’t been apparent on the call was the sling Superman’s left arm was in. Another visible injury added to the swollen eye. 

“Is everyone alright?” He had to ask.

“Nobody’s permanently hurt.” Clark hurried to assure as they started walking towards the interrogation room, but there was a but. Bruce kept his stare steady until Clark tiredly elaborated: “But nobody got out the fight unscathed. John won’t be walking for a while. J’onn is suffering from psychic backlash. Diana has some broken ribs and scrapes and you can see my own wounds. Everyone is tired, it was a long fight.”

Batman’s lips thinned. At least there had been no casualties. 

Almost as if reading his mind. Superman added quietly. 

“We got there while the base was still standing. Phantom made eye contact with me for a moment, before he unleashed this… sonic attack…” His face turned pained, as he looked for words that came halting. “It was a scream, I can’t describe it, it felt- it felt like I was dying. None of us could get close.”

Superman looked away.

“When it was over the base was gone, eradicated, like the others. There was just a large crater. Who knows how many people were still in there.”

Bruce set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was never easy to deal with casualties. 

“The one good thing about it was that the scream seemed to drain quite a bit of energy from him.” Clark barked a laugh, short and hysterical. Bruce knew Clark would have rather faced Phantom at full power if it meant more people had lived. 

“And still it was all we could do to subdue him. We barely won.”

They barely won. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter, and they barely won. The knowledge sat like a heavy ball in Bruce’s chest. 

Now, maybe they could get intel that wasn’t most reluctantly handed over by a government agency, that didn’t even want to reveal what their alphabet soup name was an abbreviation of. “We had to turn off the ‘Ghost Shield’ to get Phantom inside the base, so we at least know it works, even if for some reason it doesn’t protect the GIW bases,” Superman remarked.  

Bruce hnn’ed to show he’d heard. It was one more discrepancy among many.

Batman entered the observation room with Superman at his back. Wonder Woman was there and he quickly took in her unusually disheveled appearance, she looked tired and uncomfortable, shaken (but whole, safe). He nodded in greeting and she gave him a tight smile in return. He turned to the observation window and felt his breath stick in his throat.

Phantom was- 

The glitchy footage they’d managed to get on earlier encounters couldn’t have prepared him. Bruce felt his jaw clench. Phantom looked young. There was still a hint of baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks. He was short and wiry like Tim but maybe a bit younger than Jason, technically an adult, but to Bruce he still looked painfully young. The overall glowing and the slowly seeping green wound at his hairline didn’t take away just how human he looked. 

Bruce looked at Phantom and saw a kid. Worse, supposedly a dead kid, a ghost, if the most basic of their intel was to be believed, which even that he wasn’t entirely sure of.

A weight was heavy on his shoulders. He had to remind himself that he had found evidence of Phantom throughout history and if a ghost was truly what he was, he was most likely a very old, very powerful spirit, for whom age didn’t matter. It would be a mistake to trust the youthful appearance. 

He was chained to the chair both by wide cuffs at his wrists and ankles so he could only move very little. The cuffs were the best they had when it came to meta power suppression cuffs with some added ghost specific sigils courtesy of Zatanna’s research. She would have liked Constantine to look them over too as that sort of thing was more his area of expertise, but he’d been off on one of his extra-dimensional missions since long before this started and they hadn’t been able to contact him. 

The cuffs kept Phantom here in any case and he didn’t look happy about it. His lips were a flat line and the thick black brows were drawn together over narrowed green eyes. His head was held high (stubbornness? Pride?), chin tilted in a way that showed off a bright green-purple line around his throat, which had it been red and on a human would have looked like rope burn-

Bruce looked to Diana and he suddenly understood part of her discomfort.

“He was about to use another sonic attack, I didn’t see any other way.” Her words were quiet, regretful, but she faced his gaze head on. Bruce nodded. She never would have used the lasso like that under normal circumstances. It was incredibly worrying how much it had taken to subdue him. 

For a moment the three of them just stood there in silence, watching Phantom watch the door.

It was finally time for answers. 

Bruce didn’t make any outward sign that he was about to move, but of course Clark caught on even before he’d moved, stepping aside letting Bruce take point. They went into the interrogation room, Diana staying back to observe and be ready with security measures, they didn’t know for sure would even work.

They entered the room and immediately sharp green eyes locked onto him. There was a quick glance towards Superman, but the eyes quickly focused back on Batman. There was a calculating sort of intelligence behind those eyes. 

That was one question immediately answered, but it was one he could have inferred. It was very hard to believe the claim that this “ghost” was non-sentient, when he specifically targeted the bases of a specific government agency and nothing else. Though of course they could have had something that attracted the ghost, but nobody could look at Phantom and think non sentient. 

Now the question was, why?

Bruce sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table from Phantom. Clark had a moment’s pause before he joined them. Bruce pulled out a tablet from underneath his cape and laid it carefully out on the table, turning it on. At this point most people in the room with the Batman would have started getting nervous, but evidently not Phantom. He was still just passively defiant, not to mention he hadn’t yet said a word.

“Phantom, is that your preferred manner of address?” Bruce decided to start out neutral. 

There was a glitter of amusement in green eyes and the barest uptick of his lips, but he remained silent. Bruce could do silence. 

The silence stretched between them until Clark broke it.

“Why do you destroy those bases?”

Phantom glanced to Clark and his earnest question, then back to Bruce, barely raising an eyebrow, like as if to say “really, this the best you can do?” Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Clark was usually a better foil for him at interrogations, but then most people didn’t choose total silence.

Bruce decided to be frank with him.

“We are trying to understand your motivation. That’s all.” He studied Phantom’s face which had settled into a stony glare. “But first I’d just like to know if it’s alright to call you Phantom and what your pronouns are? We have been using he/him based on your appearance but you might have another preference?”

The glare softened a bit and for a moment Bruce actually thought he’d lured a response out of him, but Phantom just looked away. Incidentally drawing attention to the line at his throat. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Are you so hurt, that you’re unable to speak?”

Phantom slowly looked back at him. He seemed to actually be contemplating giving some sort of answer.

That’s when his comm clicked on barely audible.

“The GIW has been in contact,” Diana informed him quietly over the comms. Phantom stiffened across from him, his gaze narrowing like a cat - so they could add enhanced hearing to his powers. “They are requesting we hand over Phantom.”

Bruce looked straight at Phantom as he spoke, “They have no jurisdiction in space. I presume you declined?”

“Of course.”

Phantom’s face turned unreadable for a moment. His gaze went from him, to Superman and the opaque glass that hid the observation room. Finally he huffed. 

“Phantom, he/him is fine.” His voice had an echoey quality to it. 

It seemed they were finally going somewhere. 

-

They were not going somewhere. 

Even hours later Phantom kept up his silence. They’d held several breaks. Phantom had been offered food and water but had declined nonverbally. 

They were going in circles, trying the same questions again and again. Prolonged silence didn’t help any either. 

If only J’onn was an option, but he was already suffering from psychic backlash from trying to go into Phantom’s mind during the fight. 

So far the only things Bruce could add to the certain facts were that Phantom was sentient, intelligent and didn’t like the GIW to the point that he would commit mass murder to take them down. 

And Bruce would just really like to know why? Because with the kinds of powers he’d shown off he could have easily killed the members of the Justice League sent to apprehend him. He seemed to have no qualms about killing, yet he’d stayed his hands?

Bruce had hoped that meant Phantom considered them at least somewhat neutral in this conflict. But apparently not neutral enough to talk to. 

Clark had tried and Diana had tried. Nothing helped. 

Bruce was considering his options, when the door opened. 

“B, I need to speak with you.” That was Tim, he looked pale. Something had happened. Bruce got up, Clark following. Bruce decidedly ignored the sudden curiosity from Phantom. They closed the door and walked down the hall. When Bruce felt they were far enough from Phantom he stopped.

“Red Robin, report.”

“We’ve lost contact with Hood.”

Bruce’s heart dropped cold into his stomach. No. It couldn’t be. 

“When?”

“Two hours ago is when he last checked in. He’s since missed several check-ins.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Could be he’s just not in a position to respond, or they have scramblers in the base.”

It was likely, in fact very likely that was the case with how secretive the GIW were being, but two hours were a long time to miss check-ins. Clark’s hand landed on his shoulder which he only now realized how tense was, but no, now was not the time to relax or calm down. He shrugged Clark’s hand off and stalked back down the hall.

The GIW were mum about any details. There was only one person who could tell them what Jason was facing in that building.

He burst into the interrogation room and slammed his hands on the table. That got Phantom’s attention his eyes widening before narrowing and his lips splitting in a snarl that showed off fangs, but Bruce sneered right back.

“We lost contact with an agent sent to infiltrate a GIW-base, you will tell me what you know about them, or so help me I will make you wish you stayed in that dimension you came from.”

“Batman, please, maybe you should step out-“ Clark began good hand hovering shy of Bruce, but he was interrupted by the bark of laughter coming from Phantom.

And then he laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Bruce punched him. Clark pulled him back. 

Phantom slowly turned his head back to look at them, working his jaw. 

“There we have it after all. Your true colors: attacking a chained up captive.” He wiggled his fingers drawing attention to the wide thick cuffs dwarfing his wrists. His eyes held only cold judgment. “But don’t worry, Batman, your agent has nothing to fear from the GIW unless they are dead.”

Bruce couldn’t help the flinch and he felt Clark do the same. Something in the very air stilled then, making it hard to breathe. 

“You,” Phantom began standing up, right out of the restraints as if they weren’t there, “are going to explain to me what that reaction means…“ He carefully put his hands down on the table and leaned forward in a way that made it very apparent he was holding himself back. He glared holes into Bruce’s skull with blazing green eyes. “Unless you want your agent back in pieces.”

-

Psssst. this is actually the beginning of the fic where this is from (CW: relatively graphic aftermath of vivisection)

So basically Phantom is public enemy number one, or at least top of the US government and GIW's shit list XD Huh, "Wanted: Dead or Alive", might actually be a pretty fun title, what do you guys think?

[troublesomesnitch]

The Novice

Aemond x Septa!Reader

The one-eyed prince makes a late night confession.

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

Words: 4200

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

CW: sexual assault!

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

-

Twice a week, the grand sept receives fine visitors.

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

The queen will be arriving shortly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The prince is as beautiful as his mother. 

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

It is not a sin to be curious. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Or maybe not.

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

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

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

“This is highly improper - “

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

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

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

The prince is after something far more precious. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said yourself it is a wholesome thing…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And at last it is over. 

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

In a sense, now, you suppose you are. 

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

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

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

Part 2: The Devil You Know

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

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

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ YOU'RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! t. fushiguro / m! reader

warnings — porn with some plot, sacrilege, a copious amount of religious themes, priest! reader, virgin reader ergo loss of virginity, allusion to homophobia / internalised homophobia, unprotected sex, blowjob (r receiving), deepthroating, fingering, riding, creampie, toji lowkey has a corruption kink, use of the nickname 'angel', toji refers to the reader as father once but that is entirely in a religious sense . ✦ . wc — 2.1k . ✦ . notes — we'll all pretend that didn't just happen!! anyway!! i'm so so normal about toji...and !! i don't know what exactly falls under dark content but seeing as this contains sacrilege you've been warned nevertheless. not proof read bc t**blr stressed me out

“what does —” he stops himself mid-sentence to motion upwards, “the big man upstairs think about homosexuality?”

you swallow hard, your adam’s apple bobbing. you hadn’t expected the question, naturally. especially from the likes of toji fushiguro of all people. but you answer anyway. “well,” you murmur, averting your gaze so that you’d stare out the window as the first signs of winter begin to settle in for its extended stay instead of being forced to meet toji’s pointed gaze. “we all are subject to desires that may or may not reflect god’s light, but these desires aren’t sinful unless you act or encourage others to act on them.”

he nods almost absentmindedly in response before following up with: “…even you, i imagine, as a man of god, could fall victim to such desires?”

and you pause for a beat, your jaw tightening as an image escapes the dark recesses of your mind; the neat box you’ve forced what you deemed unpleasant thoughts into.

the man in your mind didn’t look quite like anyone you knew at first. he was just a man without a name or a face — similarly to the world before god’s divine intervention, he too was without form. but then, by chance, you met toji fushiguro and his teenage son. then the man who’d haunt your thoughts began to change.

he was older, weathered by life experiences and parenting, and taller, maybe 6’2, with messy black hair that fell over his brows. his hair reminded you of the cloudless, starless night sky. then there was that scar on the corner of his right lip. you’d imagined yourself on more than one occasion leaning toward him, pressing your lips against it before he’d open his mouth and let you explore the wet cavern.

though you shake your head as if that would dismiss your thoughts, fingers curling defensively around the window’s ledge. “everyone encounters temptation in their day-to-day, but, like god’s son, we must resist.” you counter eventually. “you’re not one for idle chatter.”

“i’m not,” he agrees, his voice smooth, something akin to the feeling of silk against your skin. it gives you goosebumps and makes the hairs stand up. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, his gaze intent. you can feel him burning holes into the back of your head. “you know, i think i’m long overdue for a confession.”

“as you wish.”

“our heavenly father has declared the following in the book of james, chapter five, verse sixteen: ‘therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective’. now, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit, amen.”

silence — and then toji sucks in a breath, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t quite grasp but has you shifting in your seat on the other side of the confessional booth anyway. you’re, on some level, disgusted by your behaviour. it’s unprofessional at best, or perhaps the beginning of your unravelling at worst. you fear it’s the latter.

“bless me, father, for i have sinned,” the words slide off his tongue with ease, “it has been two months since my last confession.” and your eyes flutter closed, or maybe you forced them closed because you feel no better than a pervert by the way you ache at every sound that comes out of his mouth.

either way, you don’t notice the way the door creaks as toji lets himself out of his side of the confessional booth and opens the door to yours until he’s kneeling in front of you, the pads of his fingers digging into your sides. the skin of his fingers is rough, worn out from the different tasks he takes on to keep himself and megumi afloat, you think. he’s become something of a handyman around town.

“to be honest, father,” he says, now directly addressing you. “i came here fer’ your guidance…you see, i’ve been havin’ thoughts lately that i don’t think align with what god wants.” and you find yourself at a loss, your eyes still closed, though your adam’s apple bobs again as you swallow your suppressed thoughts. “my guidance?” you repeat quietly, “confess your…thoughts…then, and seek forgiveness. it’s not a sin unless you act on those thoughts.”

he lets out a pleased hum at that, leaning forward so that his face is practically buried in your clothed crotch. “so,” he counters, “if my understanding is correct, would it be a sin if i told you to spread your legs f’me?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak right now — not when your thoughts are all muddled. so, you simply nod and toji clicks his tongue. “but sin or not, you’re going to anyway because you and i both know how we feel about each other, right? c’mon, use your big boy words and tell me.”

the smart thing—no, the right thing to do here would be to say no. adamantly deny the lingering touches and glances that the two of you had come to share. affection between two men could only go so far. but then again, you’ve gone so much farther in the safety of your bedroom long after the sun has set. how much longer could you shamelessly show your face to the other members of the church and listen to them confess their deepest secrets to you? you’re parading as a righteous man when you’re anything but.

if it turns out to be as bad of a sin as they say, god will strike you down.

turns out it’s not as bad of a sin as they say — or maybe it is and you’ve yet to receive divine punishment.

“god works in mysterious ways,” you say under your breath but toji hears it anyway. how could he not when you’re in such proximity to each other? you hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it doesn’t matter. and toji (ever the charmer) takes it upon himself to respond, “maybe he brought us together for a reason…or maybe i’m one of lucifer’s lackeys sent to seduce you.”

you make the conscious decision to ignore that which seems to entertain toji even more. he’s ridiculous in ways you can’t fathom. like…the way he’s got your legs spread, back pressed firmly against the wood of the confessional, your thighs trembling as he clicks his tongue, “spread yer’ legs a little wider f’me angel, s’not enough f’me to suck that pretty cock.”

he… he knows what he’s doing. whereas you were clumsy and inexperienced. but, to be fair, you had taken a vow of celibacy when you were twelve.

now, though, you’re experiencing true pleasure for the first time — and with a man, no less. you tilt your head back in what little space the confessional affords you as toji gives your balls tentative touches, maybe light squeezes, as he aligns the head of your leaking cock with his mouth. you’re embarrassed, warmth flooding your cheeks, but you can’t look away. not when this is all you’ve ever wanted.

there’s pre-cum on his lips; your pre-cum. it’s there, as clear as day, and he’s entirely unbothered. all of his attention is on your cock. your cock that’s throbbing as he sucks on it. pre-cum and saliva mixing. it’s all so new to you.

as for him…well isn’t this cute? you’re trying your hardest to stifle those needy moans of yours, he can tell. but no matter how much you bite down on your lower lip or how you press your hands against your mouth those pretty sounds you make always find a way of escaping. part of him, somewhere deep down, feels guilty for corrupting you like this. but perhaps he doesn’t feel guilty enough.

he continues to work on your cock, sucking on it whilst simultaneously fondling with your balls. you’re quivering, rutting your hips forward now and then. occasionally you go too far and it scares you at first — you didn’t mean to push your cock all the way to the back of his throat! ever the unbothered, though, he welcomes it until you’re spurting your load down his throat. and he swallows, utterly content.

then he coos at you, bringing a thumb up to your face, and tracing the outline of your jaw. “don’t worry about me, angel, you’re not going to hurt me. what you’re going to do f’me is let me reposition us so i can see your pretty boy hole, m’kay? my boy can do that f’me, right?”

my boy. the idea of being his. after so long…it only feels right. so, you allow him to readjust your position so that you’re straddling his lap and somewhere in the process you both disregard your clothes.

“you’ve been thinking about my cock? that’s why yer’ hole is winking f’me? all ready to take my cock like a big boy?” he asks and you nod your head eagerly. every word that comes out of his mouth is dirty but your reactions are the icing on the cake. you’re not the quiet, unassuming priest he met by chance all those months back. and to think that he’s the reason why.

well, he doesn’t linger on the thought. you’re impatient, squirming on his thighs in search of friction. but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him going and he may be many things but he would not force himself into you without properly preparing you to take him.

so as much as you whine about it, he ultimately takes his time with you. the nearest lubricant happened to be some sort of oil, but he made sure that it was safe to use before coating his fingers in a generous amount. then he oh so carefully drags his finger across your hole. it makes you shudder, but after a few minutes of this, you find yourself unprepared for the stretch of fitting a singular digit in. it hurts and the moment you so much as whimper toji’s pressing his lips against yours. the same lips that were around your cock only moments ago. his lips are gentle, soothing, even.

and he keeps it like that — his lips against yours as he slowly introduces more fingers into your ass. it takes a while but your pained whimpers soon morph into more desperate, filthy little noises as he drags his fingers in and out of your hole before curling them, tips grazing your prostate.

you want it, you decide. his cock, that is. you want his cock in your ass beyond a reasonable doubt. it’s all you need. bouncing on his fingers feels good but you just know that his cock would feel so much better.

“this is a sin, we’re both sinning,” you announce, your words strong but your delivery coming in between laboured gasps as his fingers continue to graze your prostate. “so i expect you to fuck me like you mean it.”

and he doesn’t need to be told twice. with a scoff — one that sounds more amused than annoyed — he pulls his fingers out of you. shaking his head as you whimper at the loss. but it’s soon replaced by something bigger and much thicker. it’s his cock, covered in the same oil, and you almost can’t believe it when he’s aligning it with your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

you have to take a few breaks before you fully sink on him with a low groan. he makes you feel so full and he hasn’t even moved yet. and when you take it upon yourself to ride him you revert to the softheaded boy he makes you out to be.

your movements are clumsy — mediocre, you’re sure of it. but toji doesn’t intervene. he simply leans back, big, warm hands on your hips, while you figure out your rhythm. and after a few failed attempts you find one that works for both of you. it feels good, it feels great even. his hard cock filling you to the brim while you all but mindlessly bounce on his cock, your walls clenching around his throbbing length.

you’re going to cum soon, you’re sure of it. and when you do eventually watch through teary eyes as your cock spurts ropes of cum onto his stomach you’re not surprised whatsoever. toji, however, takes a lot longer to cum. you’ve probably cum at least two more times by the time toji takes control, his grip on your hips tightening as he angles you just the right way to hit your prostate with each thrust of his hips upwards. your toes curl, eyes half-lidded, and you just barely acknowledge the warmth of his semen in your ass.

all you can think of, and just barely manage to stutter out is: “you’ve fucked me,” and he stares up at you with a smug smile, chest heaving as he copes with his orgasm that has been a long time coming, “yeah, i’ve fucked yer’ pretty boy hole.”

[ladylaviniya]

Okay, if we confessing things about Apollo (Blood of Zeus), I have to tell someone my fantasy bc it burns my inside. I want him to fu*k me in his original height, when he is so tall and strong and big. When Zeus hugged Heron's mom in the Underworld it was so good to see the height difference or when Apollo was standing beside Heron. It's still a manageable size but to think about the stretch, the pain and pleasure combo and him being super excited that you would do this for him. Like Gods usually downsize themselves when having sex with a mortal but in this case his lover would express this wish to have him in his original size and it would turn out in this way is more comfortable for him. Maybe the lover is his priestess or something and this happens in one of his temples. (sorry for the confession, I have just seen your post about Blood of Zeus Apollo) This is of course not a request but if it interest you I would be curious of your take on this story if you would ever wanna write this or anything else for Apollo.

I love that you dare to write dominant/submissive or master/slave relationship. We need a super dark Apollo fic where his priestess is super submissive and wants to serve him well so this is why she asks him bc she wants him to be comfortable and he just goes with it.

This is so embarrassing please if this is not your taste just ignore it.

Blood Of Zeus: Apollo’s Pythia

Story Synopsis: You serve the god Apollo since he has threatened to bring a plague upon the people of Delphi.

Pairing: Apollo X Priestess!reader

Story Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Vaginal sex, Humiliation, Size kink, size difference. Mentions of Loss of Virginity, Loss of Innocence, Ancient Greek God Mythology, Mentions of Animal Sacrifice, Master/Slave dynamic. Mostly Porn without Plot.

Authors Notes: Inspired by the song Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth. This was requested by @annievvv7 and I am considering writing a prologue and another chapter for when the reader is on Olympus. A Pythia is what they called the priestess at the oracle of Delphi.

The sounds of grunting and sucking of wet flesh echoed the marble walls of his temple.

“You’re thinking too much, my sweet little pythia,” The God of the sun whispered into your neck, his bright glowing hair tickled and blanketed your face and chest. His warm, large palm trailed down your soft belly and dipped between your trembling thighs. His agile fingers discovered your sensitive clit and rubbed gentle circles. His touch was so light and heavenly.

“Relax for me, your god.” he cooed.

He had you nude and spread open for him, your white chiton toga was pooled in a pile at the foot of his altar slab along with his glittering cape.

The stone beneath your back was stained in dark crimson from the countless goats that had been sacrificed in his name. At his command, you were at his mercy, vulnerable and obedient to his will. His presence alone was intimidating and his gaze pierced through your flesh as you were exposed, awaiting his words and commands. You were priestess of the temple of Apollo, you were raised to serve his will...even if it meant forgoing your vows of purity.

Apollo was correct, your mind continued to float away from his attentions. He saw it as strictly a challenge to bring back your focus to him and what he was doing to you. His two fingers, long and thick, carefully pressed inside your body.

It had been a month ago when you made the deal with the divine being. His threat was fearsome and you would not test him. It was a difficult decision, you had decided to save the people of Delphi by becoming his soul bounded slave...because he had promised if you denied him...you and the people of Delphi would face his wrath that would wrought a horrible plague.

You hadn’t known at the time of the deal that he had wanted your body in such a intimate and humiliating way. Upon your first time, Apollo had been domineering in inflicting his power...it could have been worse- you did bleed and you did try to fight him off, but he let you live and he granted you a merciful pleasure you had never known existed when you finally submitted to him. When he had come to you, you were a delicate virgin...now you were his desperate whore.

Your religion was strict with abstinence, you had even taken a sacred oath for Apollo as his representing pythia. Never did you truly believe he would be the one to take your purity. He said it was his rite to fuck you if not any other man. There was no questioning a gods rite.

Apollo’s fingers curled, brushing that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and it tore you from your thoughts as you arched into his palm. You made a pathetic whine and gurgle.

“Oh blessed pythia, you honour me,” he purred mockingly, his golden irises flashing as he looked down at your sweaty body. He drew his fingers out, holding them to the light to see how they gleamed before he licked them clean with his devilish tongue. Your lips parted and chest still heaved catching your breath. He smirked and bent down to steal your mouth in a hungry kiss, the taste of yourself on his lips made your core throb.

You pushed against his shoulders and gasped, “My lord, please lay down upon your temple floor...”

His brows lifted, “Making demands of me? Your god?” he still smirked, “Little pythia, I could punish you for such insolence.”

But he wouldn’t...he liked playing too much with you, especially when you were forced to grant the people their future among the oracle practice. The absolutely naughty things he would say to you, knowing you'd find it hard to answer the poor soul who merely wanted to know their fortune. How he would truly humiliate you and make you feel breathless by the day was done.

Your face was dishevelled in total lust, licking your lips, you pushed his shoulders again and felt his hands lift you by the waist carefully down from the altar until your bare feet touched the cold floor.

He crouched down and sat on the ground. His face was levelled to yours. You were by no means graceful but it did not stop his desire for you. You stood astride his thighs, your palms on his shoulder attempted to push him back. He let you.

Laying nearly flat on the ground, he balanced his upper back on his elbow and forearms. He tilted his head at you. You had to sit on his legs and pelvis to perform, or else the strain of your human legs would hurt more than the pleasure you’d hope to gain and provide.

You mewled desperately, reaching between you both to take purchase of his intimate member. It hung like a fucking horse, harden like a stone pillars rising up. A soft carpet of golden hair covered the base of his masculine appendage. His skin was still as gloriously golden and dark beneath his waist tunic kilt. You wondered if he had bathed himself nude in the pure light of the sizzling sun. His hard cock jumped in your hand, the veins pulsing against your palm. The God was huge, larger than any human man you had ever seen bathing in the springs.

And for some dumb reason you had insisted he be like this, his natural height and size instead of shifting into an average sized man. He was your god and you were his priestess, his pythia. You wanted to keep him pleased.

You reached between your thighs and rub the wetness there to bring it up and wrap around his cock. He gasped, amused and curious. Did you truly intend to take him at this size?

His large hands bent around your waist, digging into the skin of your soft bottom.

“Careful,” he murmured, “You greedy thing.”

You leaned forward, lining his thick bulb with your small opening, admiring the glitter in his golden gaze he held on you. His fingers ran up and down your spine encouragingly. When you rolled your hips forward you scrunched your face up preparing for the almighty stretch.

Your lips parted wide open, a horrible groan bellied from your mouth as you sank yourself down every inch of his unhuman length and thickness. You tried not to think about the possibility of it being the same size as your own forearm.

A low moan rumbled through his entire body that made your insides jump in delight and tingle. Apollo was happy to let you have this control, but he never took his eyes off you, never shut them. He knew the resentment still in your heart, the aching darkness for revenge. Of course if you tried to strangle him, stab him, even slit his throat he would not die, it would just hurt and perhaps piss him off.

You keened and whimpered, your body trembled as your lower lips pressed down to his soft pubic fuzz. For a few moments you were totally still. Tears streamed down your cheeks. He was impressed. His lips parted. You were admirable, trying so hard.

He moved his hands around. One thumb pressed to your sweet nipple and another to your clit, rubbing circles against them both. You gasped and felt your walls clamp down around him. He coaxed you through the pain, blooming inside you a new pleasure.

Apollo’s starved eyes travelled over your entire body, his eyes trailing low to the land where you both connected as he waited for you to move.

Carefully with your hands shaking on his chest, you lifted a little with a hiss, to roll down and sit perfectly again on his cock, letting him slide deep inside. You both groaned. It was exactly what you needed. The pressure of his cock, the feeling of being flooded with his cock so deep and entirely you couldn’t think of anything else but of your god creating this divine match.

You rode him very slowly. He let you lead at first until he grabbed your waist and jerked his hips up.

Submissively, you braced your hands on his strong glowing chest, feeling the smooth and tight muscles beneath your fingers, you rocked your hips back onto him, hunting the ultimate pleasure that was so quickly approaching, giving him everything you had. His eyes roamed from your face and your breasts, watching the way they moved as you practically bounced on his mighty rod. When he could feel your body growing weak and exhausted, he held you tight against him and began to thrust his hips up, slamming into you.

“That’s it, little pythia.”

He bowed his head, taking your tit and nipple into his mouth. He bit down, sending a shockwave through me, bringing your senses back momentarily. You gasped out loudly, your walls clenching. Your nails dug into his biceps. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirled and he hummed with delight at the sound of your noises. His fingers rubbed harder into your clit. Your soft whimpers began begging as he pushed harder up into you. Your lips pressed just above his ear while he sucked.

“You enjoy this my sweet slave?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. Your sweet tears fell onto his shoulder.

“Yes my lord Apollo,” you whimpered, your toes curled and your fingernails dug up into his long blonde mane. You could feel the tsunami beginning to creep up your spine, your body surrendered to him.

“Then show me! Release your praise,” Apollo ordered, his voice a growl in your ear. It was too great. The bold bright light exploded behind your eyes. You screamed into the side of his neck, sobbing as the wave of desire broke the band.

Your muscles strangled his pulsing cock. Limply you sagged against his body while he steadied his thrusts and dragged the last few out, thrusting hard down once as he flooded your womb with his golden cum. His lips brushed softly against your cheek. He was slow and kind as he lifted you up and off of his cock. Your insides felt bruised.

He held you close to his chest, reaching out for his cape. It was like a wave of glittering white and gold. Like shining white sand, warm and comforting on your wet skin.

He covered your body in it, before lowering you to lay on the marble floor.

He eventually pulled out, and you could feel his seed start to leak out down your thighs and drip onto the cold floor. Your lips parted and your legs closed, embarrassed. He chuckled and kissed your salty sweat drenched forehead.

“You look so beautiful with my cum inside you.”

Apollo’s finger gathered the escaping slickness and pushed it back into your spent body, causing another shaky moan to slip from your lips.

“Best not to waste it.”

You trembled and boldly reached out to him. Tendrils of his long mane were combed through your fingers. So soft and smooth. He smelt like the morning, sweet dew and the warm springs. He cradled you in the crook of his arm, his skin was a great warmth along with his cape. His hand petted your body, trailing his finger tips up and down as you combed his hair softly. Come the rising sun, he would be gone again. He would speak to you daily through the oracle bowl, but you would not feel his powerful body until his next visit.

“Will I see you again?” You croaked, “Next month? Will your duties allow it my lord?”

Apollo was calm. Spent. He was pleased and relaxed. His cock had softened. His palm rested on your belly.

“No.”

Your face fell slightly. You couldn’t believe it but you knew you would miss him, his teasing touch.

“You will see me everyday...” he purred and kissed your cheek, “I have decided, you will return with me to Olympus.”

Your mouth fell open, your eyes widened. You didn’t know what to say.

“But my duties? I am to read the oracle and-”

His brows lifted, his hand pressed your hands above your head, his other finger pointed at your chest squarely.

“Your duties are to serve me, or did you forget the oath you made to me so quickly?”

With a fluttering heart and regretful fear you shook your head, “No, no my lord master. It’s just...what will I be if not your pythia?”

“My slave...my bride maybe...”

He bent down and pressed his mouth to yours before you could say anything further. He redressed himself as you sat up, stunned in silence.

“Br-bride?”

He smirked, and held out his hand to you, “Come with me my dear slave.”

You took his hand and he carried you to his summoned chariot. You would reach the city of the gods and we’d the great Apollo. God of the Sun.