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targaryenrealnessdarling · 11 months

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A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping

A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!

"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.

She throws a middle finger.

Charming.

You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.

Nothing, you sigh.

El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"

You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.

El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"

"Ew, don't call me that"

"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.

"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"

She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"

"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.

A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.

"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.

To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.

You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.

Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.

It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.

"Oof!"

You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.

You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"

"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".

You resist the urge to frown.

Coward.

“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"

It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.

Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.

Even if he said it was okay.

But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.

"One day" you promise.

The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.

“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.

She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”

King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.

The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.

El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.

Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.

"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".

You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".

She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"

You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".

"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.

Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.

"That your man?" You ask.

She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"

You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".

"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"

She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.

Ones you know you can't refuse.

"Fine" you sigh.

She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.

It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.

“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.

You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”

“Nope! Just you” she grins.

“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”

She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”

You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.

There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.

He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.

Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.

It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.

"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.

You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.

You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.

He smells just like he used to.

And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.

You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.

Fuck. His voice.

You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.

When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.

You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.

His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"

Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".

His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"How?.."

Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".

"But…she's-"

"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.

"For old time's sake?" He smiles.

And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.

It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.

But it feels nice.

Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.

Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.

Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.

"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.

"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"

He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".

You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"

Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".

"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"

You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.

Oops.

Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.

"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.

"Got in?"

"KLU".

"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"

You beam with pride.

And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.

"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.

"And?..."

He licks his lips before he speaks.

"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"

He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.

He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”

You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.

He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.

Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”

He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.

His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.

Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.

When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.

You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.

“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.

He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.

All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.

He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.

He tastes just as you remember.

A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.

When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.

Gods, it’s been so long.

A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.

“Stop that”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”

He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.

“Blushing”

His voice lowers.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”

The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.

That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.

It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.

How wrong you were.

Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.

He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.

His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.

It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.

“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.

“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.

You nod, “It’s a nice place”

“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.

You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.

Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.

"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.

" - fuck - "

You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.

How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.

"Baby, please -"

Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.

And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.

"Oh, fuck you-"

You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.

"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"

Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.

He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.

He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.

"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".

You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.

That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.

It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.

With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.

You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"

You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.

" - fuck - Aemond -"

Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.

Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.

For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.

But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.

His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.

Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.

You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.

“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”

You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.

Something you have in common, clearly.

With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.

You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.

It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.

“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”

Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.

It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.

“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”

You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.

The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.

“ -Aemond -”

“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”

Fuck.

Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.

All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.

The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.

His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.

“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”

You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.

You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.

“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.

You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”

It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.

“ -please, Aemond -”

“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.

"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"

Wait what?

This isn't said 'fun'?

Oh shit.

Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.

The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.

"-Aemo-"

Smack.

"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.

A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.

"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"

The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.

You do.

"Please - daddy - need it-"

If you could see him, you'd hate it.

Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.

"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"

You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.

"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"

"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"

His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.

Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.

But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.

Just wants to feel you first.

“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.

As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.

You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.

And then you see him smile.

"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"

Oh shit.

After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.

Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.

His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.

Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.

"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"

"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"

Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.

You almost hear his choked moan.

"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"

The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.

He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"

The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.

“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”

You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.

His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.

You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.

Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.

All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.

Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.

You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.

Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.

“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.

“-Mm- another time-”

Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.

One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.

Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.

You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.

“The apartment”.

“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”

He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.

“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

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jolapeno · 2 months

Text

v. if you cling on, i will too

joel miller x f!reader | chapter five of honey stained hands

chapter summary: things take time to heal, but will you be the same you when you do?

wordcount: 3.5k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. injury/comfort recovery. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). smutty? this pair are together but won't admit it. mentions of joels attempt on himself but minimal, lots of healing angst. but it's me so the ending is... nice. an: we should all thank je te laisserai des mots for the final chapter to this series! and also @thetriumphantpanda who i said "hey, can i ask a favour" and then dumped this on her without her prior knowledge.

The grip of winter slowly loosens, the world beginning to thaw as your wounds heal.

Green begins protruding where there had only been white, shooting up hope, a silent promise of renewal etched into every bud and leaf.

Joel supposes the promise came true.

By the time the first flowers emerge in a riot of colours, their vibrant hues a stark contrast against the lingering remnants of frost, he’d asked if you wished to move in. To have your things more officially with his. Less a cluster of things you’d “take back the next time you do” and more a permanent place for them to collect.

Saves you havin’ to walk back and forth.

Joel is thankful you smiled at the kitchen table and said yes.

Because it had been convenient, easy, to have you here with him when the two of you had arrived back. When your wounds were scarlet and tacky, bruises convulsing and growing under your skin until it made you hiss and whine at each movement. Then, there were the bones you feigned weren’t broken, in the same way you pretended your soul wasn’t fragmented.

Then, there was the simple fact you could barely dismount from your horse as a worried crowd approached, news of your missing nature now resolved.

You clung to him as you shied away from questionable eyes and paused glances. Horror sketched into the faces, blanketing over earlier panic—faces that had only shown you prior kindness. Because the monster you kept at bay until you were outside of the walls, was tired, depleted and very much on parade as Joel helped you down from the horse and the others, who had come to help retrieve them both, stood back to let the audience gawk.

If it stung, you never showed it. Holding him tight, gripping. Using all of your left strength to remain upright and desperately rooted to him.

You are stubborn in that way, and in the way you tipped up your chin, daring them to see what had been inflicted for the sake of their survival.

Good girl he had almost whispered into your ear.

He saved whispering that for over a week when you’d clung different to him, when your eye was no longer swollen shut and you begged to feel him—feel something other than hands that weren’t his.

Those two words ran from his tongue like they’d been swallowed back for too long. Pressing to your skin wherever possible, attempting to heal what he couldn’t understand, see or feel.

Things flower in the spring. The sun rises and lingers for longer before darkness crests over the world briefly.

Flowers shift towards the sunlight, laughter runs along the streets; coats are hidden away, with thinner layers covering bodies and trade shifts from boots to things that are easier to enjoy the warmer weather in.

You don’t bloom though.

Something altered in you, forever cracked. A thing that kept you from sleeping and dreaming when your wounds looked angry and raw; the cracks not healing, even incorrectly, when your skin stitched itself together.

It doesn’t ease when you stop hissing as you descend the stairs, when you’re able to walk for longer than a minute before pausing for a break. It only appears to lessen when you visit the bees. You avoid the other animals, though. Weighing it up, acknowledging with your head bowed that the strength isn’t there. Apologising in heavy whispers to Maria, to yourself, to the air and the cold and the breeze.

He waits for you to bake, to begin rolling things in a bowl and allowing the house to smell like yours used to. It doesn’t come. Not even when he returns from patrol and finds you in a similar state to when he left you.

Your monster is more than wounded, so close to dead that he struggles to work out how to heal it.

Joel doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell.

He could assume, formulate a story; he could create the pieces of the puzzle that were missing.

Instead, he leaves it alone. Rather wishing to live with the unknown than what he feels he’d have to pry from your clenched fists.

“You tried talkin’ to her brother?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

Because Tommy doesn’t know that the forest and cabin know all the secrets, the rest withered and shaved down inside of you. Doesn’t understand what it is that remains in a person who temporarily hangs between the living and the dead.

The only time he heard you reference it, what happened out there, was when he overheard you with Ellie. Honey-yellow light splayed across the landing, his feet pausing near the creakier floorboards as Ellie’s voice rang out in the quiet, in the heavy air that was desperate to splinter or slither away.

“You survived.”

He likes to imagine your hand sliding into hers, that you nodded, before you realised the meaning of the girl’s words. Maybe your head snapped up, stared into her younger eyes and hunted for the thing that neither of them should have had to suffer through.

“We both did, Ellie,” he heard you say, and his hand goes to the wall for leverage, for stability. “We survived… because we’re stronger than them.”

Then, he breathes out. A heavy one, a puff. An exclamation that loosens the knot around his heart—because it’s that or let the tears burn his eyes. Hand on the wall of the place that now feels home, steadying himself on the stairs that the two of you climb each night before you slide into the bed you now call yours.

Before you call him yours, mouth wrapping around the head of him, taking more of him than he can wrap his head around down your throat. M-i-n-e you stain against his cock, swirl it with your tongue until pulls you from him, burying the same word inside of you, making you arch as the word shifts into something else.

Us.

In the summer, you laugh.

A sound you’ve left escape a handful of times, but nothing like this. Head thrown back, neck elongated—eyes shimmering with mischief and sarcasm and all the other things he noticed in you.

He wonders if you’re better. If things are better.

Ellie has made friends, informs him over breakfast that she’ll be here, there or anywhere, and he just hides a smile behind his mug. Nods, agrees. Asks what time he’ll expect her as he internally grumbles about teenagers. Then, you descend the stairs, half-dressed in you and half-dressed in him, a picture, a sight for the sorest of eyes.

Your kisses have grown softer in the day, than just at night—almost reminiscent of the ones he received before you left that day.

“You still like shortbread, Miller?”

He snorts, elbow on the table that needs tightening, watching you fold your arms—cockiness sewn into your mannerism, in the way you sit. “That what we callin’ between your legs, honey.”

“After last night, y’can call her whatever you goddamn please.”

He snorts, briefly. Instead choosing to hear the lilt of your laugh, watching as it paints sunshine around the room. As it trickles out and flutters, before chair legs scream against floorboards and you’re by his side, palm on his jaw, on the wiry hair that grows in odd ways and leaves patches that never fill.

“Can you walk with me to see the animals?”

He does.

A gut instinct he ignores as your fingers slot themselves in his, tight, holding him as you don’t ask for a breather, don’t sound ragged or out of breath. Only letting go where you near the pen, when your voice becomes that high-pitched tone he remembers briefly—akin to a parent speaking to a baby.

Joel recognises it before you do. Counts, studies—looks for the familiar pattern on the one sheep that sticks out like a sore thumb. He swallows, dread filling his chest, making his stomach bubble and knot.

You look at him.

Sadness blended with hysteria, alarm. Body over the fence, running with awkwardness from healing wrong, until you slow at the side of the place where the animals sleep.

Roscoe on his side, cold, still. Gone.

His heart, whatever remains left of it, breaks when he sees you go to your knees. Tentative shaky hand brushing over sheepskin, before your body rocks, tremors, and you burst.

It’s more than mourning an animal that you’ve cared for. It’s more than mourning itself.

So, he steps back and stands on the other side of the barn door as he listens to the sobs, the cries, the wails and incoherent ramblings. All things that remind him of a loss he never sits too much with. A loss that made a barrel press to his forehead and made him feel like a hole had been left in him forever—one in his chest, not even close to where he’d tried to pull the trigger.

He wonders if you’ll laugh again.

Joel also worries he’s lost you again.

The sun is setting when he returns from patrol, the air sweet when he opens the door—it creaks, protesting against him, and he wonders, briefly if he’s entered the wrong place.

His boots thudding, coat hanging—ache blooming behind his bones.

But it’s all righted when he sees a mixing bowl, egg shells and a pot of honey. In the mess, a plate. Stacked high, and then you.

Different from the person who used to bake in your kitchen, but also different from the person he’d left this morning, tangled in sheets. The one who looked lost, and now appears more found than he’s known in months.

“Hello, stranger.”

Even the sound of you is familiar. That tone, all flirtatious and confident, parcelled in someone who grins as he moves closer.

“Ellie’s out—she stole one, though. So, she’s eaten.”

He snorts. “Just us then?”

Nodding, undoing your apron, sliding it from over your head as you fold it onto his kitchen counter and he keeps approaching. Hand scratching at his patchy beard, watching as you tilt your head, and let your lips slide into your cheek.

You’re back, here—existing.

It’s different, the attraction that thrums in his bones. It had begun as a need, primal, unexplainable, before it shifted, changed, and became something foreign yet oddly familiar, and now it was just desire, longing.

And you kiss him hard as though acknowledging it. Pressing yourself as firmly as you can, smothering yourself to him as though attempting to merge with him. Your tongue licking behind his teeth as you moan, as you equally long, lust and need.

You trail him with your palms, across his chest, shoulders and neck. Trailing them down his back, kneading out aches you haven’t heard him complain about yet, before you’re palming him over his jeans, whimpering at the feel of him hard and desperate.

“Like how you want me, Miller.”

“Like how you take me, honey,” he groans, runs his nose along your neck, licks at your skin—tasting the sweat of your labour having mixed with the sweetness of the air.

It isn’t all the time like he wishes. Tiredness and age played a factor, but right now—like this, a reminder of a memory, he feels anew. Younger. More capable. Roughly shifting you until it’s you pressed against a counter, until he’s pawing at your clothes until he can admire, feel smooth skin with his worn, calloused hands.

“Missed you.”

It leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

Because you’ve been here. But not like this. It is far too honest for what the two of you are technically, but not quite what the two of you have become.

Thankful you grasp his cheek and pull his mouth to yours, but he swears he tastes your reply before he earns it. Before his hand slides inside the band of your cotton panties and makes you hiss against his teeth, slick coating his fingers. An urge to drive you to the edge, to have you pleading, to have you call him Joel and not Miller, to have you seeing white and erode your pain from your body and fill it only with bliss.

He’s a mess, and you’ve barely touched him. The sight of you, unhinged, wild and free. Head thrown back as his thumb swirls circles on your hardening nerves, as your pussy tightens around the fingers he has buried in it. As you moan, as you plea, as you cry and whine for him, almost needing to command you to come so he can sheath his cock in you and feel you.

But, then you surprise him.

As you always fucking do.

“Missed you too,” you whimper, hips grinding against his hand—teetering in the land where you find it hard to shy away and can only emit honesty.

Your eyes, the deepest valley of affection, so much he almost feels he must look away. Undeserving of it. A thing he finds on the tip of his tongue before you call him Joel, before you moan for him.

“Y’perfect, you know that? All o’you,” he confesses, buries it into your ear. “Your tight pussy, your anger, your stubbornness—”

“—Fuck, Joel—”

“Can’t be without you. Not this version. Need you too much—like I need y’to come. Can you come for me, honey? Make a mess of my hand, let me lick you clean—”

“Shit, m’close.”

He knows. Your jaw clenched, body rigid—eyes creased closed as your hips grind slower but deeper, more intense, until they lose rhythm and you snap. In a completely different way than you did all those months ago.

Because this time, he thinks you’ve snapped back into place.

Because when your eyes open, he doesn’t greet a pair that he doesn’t know, but a pair he knows intimately. It’s why he pants, and loses his breath—that, and the fact you grab his hand from between your thighs and bring it to your lips, tasting yourself, licking yourself clean from him.

“Get upstairs, Miller.”

His brow arches, mouth clamping shut. A fire building in his chest, his other hand flexing at his side, wanting to slap it to your ass and ask you to repeat yourself.

But, you straighten your spine, look him dead in the eye. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

Before autumn comes—before leaves change and the Jackson is shadowed by earlier nights and later mornings. When it looks close to the misery and horror that lives outside of the walls. Joel is on his knees.

Tools close to his fingers, red toolbox to the side.

Itching, necessarily torturing himself by fixing things that don’t need fixing, just to busy his hands, keep his mind on something, to not worry, to not hate, to not be angry.

“She’s going to be alright.”

Joel almost snorts, but buries it under a cough. Twists the bolt into the wood, checking the panel with a rough tug as Ellie shifts position, as she comes to a place he can’t avoid not glancing at her. Now scowling and making her be distant with him even more than she already is.

Because his mind is a storm, all concocted with worry he doesn’t what to do with, with fear he hasn’t been able to displace. Each horrid thought is thunderous, like a crack in the silence as the house creaks and he struggles to keep himself from splintering. Twisted up, insides knotted, every distant shout or laugh setting his already tired heart racing—forcing it to pound against his ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape.

He’s not the same man he was before. Not sure if he’d have the strength to keep you safe in the way you’d not needed then, but could now.

It’s why he keeps picturing you, darkness closing in, shadows formed with malicious intent attempting to take you. It makes his hands shake, as he grips the tool tighter, almost as if by holding onto something solid he can anchor his thoughts. Images of your last injury flashed in his mind—the blood, the pain, the helplessness he felt.

How angelically gothic you looked surrounded by snow. How he can still taste the metallic tang in the air if he thinks about it too much

“She’s not wrong,” a voice says.

One that forces his head up, one that makes him double-take.

You standing, with no scratch, no markings. Not a figment of his imagination, but something real from the shadows that stretch from your legs across the ground. Not an illusion as Ellie throws herself at you, all arms and cheerful glee.

Real, real, real, as you step up the porch, as you crouch down and grumble at the ache in your bones, and kiss his mouth. Warm, and all very you.

“You been worryin’ about me, Miller?”

He chews his tongue, drops his gaze before he flicks it back up. “No.”

You smirk, devious, but yet still so sweet. “Good.”

Hand still caressing his skin, thumb brushing over the patch you comment looks like a heart—one you brought up some weeks back, asking if it’s for you, if it doesn’t grow just for you. Smirking, laughing, leg bent over his hip as you continue to tease. Is this how you tell me you love me, by shaving a heart, Miller? And, just for me, a heart all of my own?

“You fancy getting a drink with me tonight?”

Frowning, he lowers the tool back to the floor. “Y’wanna go out?”

“With you? Yeah.”

Swallowing, he glances over your shoulder to see Ellie smirking, looking more pleased than he’s ever known her. Swaying, folded arms as she begins to nod at him, mouthing say yes, say yes.

“Ellie wants to go to Dina’s,” you add, as though spotting where his gaze has gone. “And, I realised something.”

He hums as you lower to your knees in front of him, as you cup his cheek and tug his eyes back to you.

“We never watched that VHS, either. Did we?”

Clearing his throat, hand coming to rest on your wrist, thumb drawing a shape against it. “No. We didn’t.”

Smiling, face lighting up—shimmering. Exactly like that time you had brought him shortbread in a tin. “Y’wanna go on a date with me, Joel? Drink and a movie.”

Glancing at Ellie, and then back to you. Spreading his hand from your wrist up to the back of your hand, it dwarfing yours against his cheek, staring into your eyes—so sure he sees your monster smiling at him too.

“Let me clean up. You… Y’deserve that.”

“Alright,” you reply.

“What, no arguin’?”

Shrugging, dropping your hand as you sigh. “I know when to pick my arguments with my man.”

He tries not to show how that warms him, the words replaying over and over. It makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t hate. My man. A phrase that carries a weight, an intimacy he's not accustomed to out here, only ever when he’s buried inside of you and your skin is glistening with sweat, him and his spend.

He swallows hard, masking the fluttering in his chest, concealing the way his breath catches ever so slightly. A vulnerability in those words—how you’ve exposed yourself. Changed your tune from no names to this. A soft promise he’s struggling to wrap his head around. He knows you see it, that flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

His hand balls into a fist, his thumb sliding over his fingers, levelling himself as the emotions surge, unbidden and uncontrollable. Feeling exposed, as though you’ve peeled back the layers of his defences with a single phrase, laid bare the raw, tender part of him he thought long buried.

But he doesn’t hate it. Not the strange comfort in being wanted or seen, even less so by you. How it makes him want to run and stay all at once. He suspects you know the turmoil you’ve stirred, having done so to yourself with the confession.

And somehow, knowing that helps him swallow it, accept it, finding it true.

“Tha’ make you mine, then?”

Shrugging, you roll your lips, a coy, more nervous smile there. “If you want.”

If he wants, he snorts.

Three words he repeats hours later, when he’s stripping you bare, lying you down on the bed that belongs to you as much as him.

“If I want?” he repeats, your lips curling into a smirk.

Before he’s dipping his mouth between your thighs, writing with his tongue how he's wanted that for months now, maybe even since the very beginning.

an: it may have taken me a long time, but, i hope in some way it was worth it. thank you for reading! eeeep I finished a joel 😂

npts for those who loved them the whole time (sorry if you didn’t want this tag, forgive meeee):

@swiftispunk @missladym1981 @ptime1999 @survivingandenduring @pimosworld

@sawymredfox @thelightsandtheroses

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rotting-ink · 2 months

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What are the ros ultimate fantasies? If there was no judgement form the witch, what would they want? Whether that's sexual/domestic, just plain fluffy. Their ultimate fantasy

L Rawlins: A family. Found or blood, they don't care. Yes, the pack is a family, a big family, but they want an immediate family, the one they wake up to every day, the one they care for in the morning before they head off to make sure the rest of the family is okay and is thriving. Will have blood kids or adopt kids with you, or even lets you bring in your friends to live with them, as people you consider siblings or such. If not kids, lets get a shit ton of puppies then.

S Della Rovere- To head away from how cute L is, S just wants a week long fuck fest, you two drinking each other's blood, and fucking the days away.

Z Chambers- ... They want to come back to life and give you a proper life, but what can we do? Will settle for getting to go invisible mode and seeing if they can fuck you semi publicly.

V De Winters- Wants to forget their entire life for a day. Help them forget until they have to go back home. They want to feel completely safe and alone with the Witch.

Seir- Honestly, they don't have that many fantasies. Just scritch under their chin and they're happy.

Saleos- Let them treat you like a pet for a whole day. Completely in charge of what you do and wear and everything. Happiest mink in the west if you do it.

Starling Knight- No work. No work for a weekend. No hospital, no morgue, not first aid. They can sit, quiet and relaxed. Gets to catch up on reading. Fresh tea, not cold. Lies against you or you lie agaisnt them. Bigger dream is to escape for a month to Egypt. Let them go home man.

A Lancaster- Truly? They gave up fantasies and the future for their order. But let them predator and prey chase you down for a bondaged fuck fest in the woods, and they're pretty damn happy.

E Rawlins- fucking and kissing and sucking and fucking and cuddling and and and and

Quincy Beaumont- Let them plan the perfect weekend. Serenade you. Take you to the most expensive places to eat and spend your nights at parties, usually masquerades. Then have slow sex at home.

D Woolf- Just.. Be with them. They want to live with you, spend all day with you. Show their research to you. Read together. Cook together. They want domesticity and no anxiety.

#rottedinkspills #ask #just love interest things #the rot of witchwood #l rawlins #seir the familiar #s della rovere #v de winters #z chambers #saleos #a lancaster #starling knight #e rawlins #quincy beaumont #d woolf

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medievalandfantasymelee · 4 months

Text

We are now just a few days away from the end of the submission period for the Hot Medieval and Fantasy Men Melee, and our Entrants stand numbered at 250!!!

Submissions will close on the 27th of June, so if you have a hot medieval/medieval fantasy guy (or multiple of them) you'd like to see compete, send them in!

Here is a list of our Noble and Worthy Contenders so far.

If your man isn't here, that means he has not been submitted.

The Contenders

So Far…

Adhemar, Count of Anjou [Rufus Sewell], A Knight's Tale (2001)

Prince Aemond Targaryen [Ewan Mitchell], House of the Dragon (2022-)

Alessandro Farnese [Diarmuid Noyes], Borgia: Faith and Fear (2011-2014)

King Alfred the Great [David Dawson], The Last Kingdom (2015-2022)

Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan [Antonio Banderas], The 13th Warrior (1999)

Antonius Block [Max von Sydow], The Seventh Seal (1957)

Aragorn, Son of Arathorn [Viggo Mortensen], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

King Arthur Pendragon [Alexandre Astier], Kaamelott (2004-2009)

King Arthur Pendragon [Bradley James], BBC’s Merlin (2008-2012)

Athelstan [George Blagden], Vikings (2013-2020)

Ash Williams [Bruce Campbell], Army of Darkness (1992)

Brian de Bois-Guilbert [Ciaran Hinds], Ivanhoe (1997)

Brother Cadfael [Derek Jacobi], Cadfael (1994-1998)

Carlos I [Álvaro Cervantes], Carlos Rey Emperador (2015-2016)

Prince Caspian [Ben Barnes], The Chronicles of Narnia (2010)

Cesare Borgia [Mark Ryder], Borgia: Faith and Fear (2011-2014)

Cesare Borgia [Francois Arnaud], The Borgias (2011-2013)

Prince Chauncley [Daniel Radcliffe], Miracle Workers: The Dark Ages (2020)

Prince Daemon Targaryen [Matt Smith], House of the Dragon (2022-)

Khal Drogo [Jason Momoa], Game of Thrones (2011-2019)

Lord Eddard Stark [Sean Bean], Game of Thrones (2011-2019)

Edgin [Chris Pine], Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves (2023)

Éomer, Son of Éomund [Karl Urban], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

Étienne de Navarre [Rutger Hauer], Ladyhawke (1985)

Faramir, Son of Denethor [David Wenham], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

Finan [Mark Rowley], The Last Kingdom (2015-2022)

Sir Galahad [Michael Palin], Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

Galavant [Joshua Sasse], Galavant (2015-2016)

Gawain [Dev Patel], The Green Knight (2021)

Geralt z Rivii [Michał Żebrowski], The Witcher (2002)

Geralt of Rivia [Henry Cavill], The Witcher (2019-)

Sir Guy of Gisborne [Basil Rathbone], The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Sir Guy of Gisborne [Richard Armitage], BBC’s Robin Hood (2006-2009)

Prince Hamlet [Laurence Olivier], Hamlet (1948)

Hubert Hawkins [Danny Kaye], The Court Jester (1955)

King Henry II Plantagenet [Peter O’Toole], The Lion in Winter (1968)

King Henry V Plantagenet [Tom Hiddleston], The Hollow Crown (2012-2016)

Prince Henry [Dougray Scott], Ever After (1998)

Hugh Beringar [Sean Pertwee], Cadfael (1994-1998)

Inigo Montoya [Mandy Patinkin], The Princess Bride (1987)

Jareth [David Bowie], the Goblin King, Labyrinth (1986)

Jaskier [Joey Batey], The Witcher (2019-)

Prince John Plantagenet [Claude Rains], The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Lancelot [Santiago Cabrera], BBC’s Merlin (2008-2012)

Legolas Greenleaf [Orlando Bloom], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

Madmartigan [Val Kilmer], Willow (1988)

King Mark of Cornwall [Rufus Sewell], Tristan and Isolde (2006)

Mikoláš Kozlík [František Velecký], Marketa Lazarová (1967)

Merlin [Colin Morgan], BBC’s Merlin (2008-2012)

Niccolo Machiavelli [Thibaut Evrard], Borgia: Faith and Fear (2011-2014)

Prince Oberyn Martell [Pedro Pascal], Game of Thrones (2011-2019)

Peregrin “Pippin” Took [Billy Boyd], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

Pero Tovar [Pedro Pascal], The Great Wall (2016)

Ragnar Lothbrook [Travis Fimmel], Vikings (2013-2020)

Ravenhurst [Basil Rathbone], The Court Jester (1955)

Richard Cypher [Craig Horner], Legend of the Seeker (2008-2010)

King Richard [Timothy Omundson], Galavant (2015-2016)

Richard III Plantagenet [Aneurin Barnard], The White Queen (2013)

Robin Hood [Errol Flynn], The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Robin Hood [Michael Praed], Robin of Sherwood (1984)

Robin Hood [Cary Elwes], Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

Robin Hood [Tom Riley], Doctor Who: “The Robot of Sherwood” (2014)

Rodrigo Borgia [Jeremy Irons], The Borgias (2011-2013)

Rollo [Clive Standen], Vikings (2013-2020)

Samwise Gamgee [Sean Astin], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

Sandor Clegane [Rory McCann], Game of Thrones (2011-2019)

Sid [Luke Youngblood], Galavant (2015-2016)

Sihtric Kjartansson [Arnas Fedaravicius], The Last Kingdom (2015-2022)

Thorin Oakenshield [Richard Armitage], The Hobbit Trilogy (2012-2014)

Tom Builder [Rufus Sewell], The Pillars of the Earth (2010)

Mr. Tumnus [James McAvoy], The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)

Vlad III Dracula [Luke Evans], Dracula Untold (2014)

Westley [Cary Elwes], The Princess Bride (1987)

William Thatcher [Heath Ledger], A Knight’s Tale (2001)

Will Scarlet O’Hara [Matthew Porretta], Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

Will Scarlett [Patrick Knowles], The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Will Scarlett [Christian Slater], Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

#pre tournament #submissions #will scarlett #a knights tale #the princess bride #the hobbit trilogy #guy of gisborne #daemon targaryen #robin hood prince of thieves #the last kingdom #lord of the rings #vikings #game of thrones

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book--brackets · 2 months

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The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien (1937)

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (2005-2009)

Percy Jackson is a good kid, but he can't seem to focus on his schoolwork or control his temper. And lately, being away at boarding school is only getting worse - Percy could have sworn his pre-algebra teacher turned into a monster and tried to kill him. When Percy's mom finds out, she knows it's time that he knew the truth about where he came from, and that he go to the one place he'll be safe.

She sends Percy to Camp Half Blood, a summer camp for demigods (on Long Island), where he learns that the father he never knew is Poseidon, God of the Sea. Soon a mystery unfolds and together with his friends—one a satyr and the other the demigod daughter of Athena - Percy sets out on a quest across the United States to reach the gates of the Underworld (located in a recording studio in Hollywood) and prevent a catastrophic war between the gods.

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (1954-1955)

In a sleepy village in the Shire, a young hobbit is entrusted with an immense task. He must make a perilous journey across Middle-earth to the Cracks of Doom, there to destroy the Ruling Ring of Power - the only thing that prevents the Dark Lord's evil dominion.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis (1950-1956)

Four adventurous siblings—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie— step through a wardrobe door and into the land of Narnia, a land frozen in eternal winter and enslaved by the power of the White Witch. But when almost all hope is lost, the return of the Great Lion, Aslan, signals a great change . . . and a great sacrifice.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1943)

The Little Prince is a classic tale of equal appeal to children and adults. On one level it is the story of an airman's discovery, in the desert, of a small boy from another planet - the Little Prince of the title - and his stories of intergalactic travel, while on the other hand it is a thought-provoking allegory of the human condition.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini (2002-2011, 2023)

When fifteen-year-old Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself.

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and, gifted with only an ancient sword, a loyal dragon, and sage advice from an old storyteller, Eragon is soon swept into a dangerous tapestry of magic, glory, and power. Now his choices could save--or destroy--the Empire.

Time Quintet by Madeleine L'Engle (1962-1989)

It was a dark and stormy night; Meg Murry, her small brother Charles Wallace, and her mother had come down to the kitchen for a midnight snack when they were upset by the arrival of a most disturbing stranger.

Wild nights are my glory, the unearthly stranger told them. I just got caught in a downdraft and blown off course. Let me sit down for a moment, and then I'll be on my way. Speaking of ways, by the way, there is such a thing as a tesseract.

Folk of the Air by Holly Black (2018-2020)

Of course I want to be like them. They're beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever.

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.

Jude was seven years old when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King.

To win a place at the Court, she must defy him--and face the consequences.

In doing so, she becomes embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, discovering her own capacity for bloodshed. But as civil war threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab (2020)

France, 1714: In a moment of desperation, a young woman named Adeline meets a dangerous stranger and makes a terrible mistake.

As she realizes the limitations of her Faustian bargain-being able to live forever, without being able to be remembered by anyone she sees- Addie chooses to flee her small village, as everything she once held dear is torn away.

But there are still dreams to be had, and a life to live, and she is determined to find excitement and satisfaction in the wide, beckoning world-even if she will be doomed to be alone forever.

Or not quite alone-as every year, on her birth-day, the alluring Luc comes to visit, checking to see if she is ready to give up her soul. Their darkly thrilling game stretches through the ages, seeing Addie witness history and fight to regain herself as she crosses oceans and tries on various lives.

It will be three hundred years before she stumbles into a hidden bookstore and discovers someone who can remember her name-and suddenly, everything changes again.

Circe by Madeline Miller (2018)

the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child—not obviously powerful like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power—the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts, and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur; Daedalus and his doomed son, Icarus; the murderous Medea; and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from or the mortals she has come to love.

#best fantasy book #poll #the hobbit #percy jackson #lord of the rings #the chronicles of narnia #the little prince #the inheritance cycle #time quintet #folk of the air #the invisible life of addie larue #circe

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 1 year

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Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey).

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.”

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin.

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could.

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank.

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated.

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal.

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin.

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #frank castle x reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #trope de sept #sex pollen #bucky x you #frank castle x you #imagine #bucky barnes x you x frank castle

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