#x is a bastard when he's drunk

[fioiswriting]

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired. 

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later. 

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him.  "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual."  He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours. 

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his. 

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy.  He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel. 

Everything he wasn't. 

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time. 

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

 It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

 "Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face. 

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable. 

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

*** 

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you. 

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination. 

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant. 

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words. 

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey. 

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. 

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. 

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable. 

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction. 

As if to unveil what he held within himself. 

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover. 

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass. 

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet. 

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

An unpleasant heat. 

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery. 

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important. 

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles. 

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table. 

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten. 

Jace almost choked. 

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand. 

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared. 

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied. 

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you. 

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said.  We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity. 

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this. 

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities. 

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

*** 

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman. 

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.  

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh. 

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off. 

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins. 

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs. 

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs. 

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear. 

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him. 

He wanted more. 

He needed more. 

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand. 

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done. 

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure. 

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister. 

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before. 

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it." 

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling. 

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him. 

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge. 

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised. 

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear.  "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face. 

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace. 

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son. 

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs. 

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot. 

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous. 

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews. 

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good."  She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

*** 

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons. 

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for. 

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet. 

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm. 

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control. 

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know. 

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours. 

The sensation was delicious. 

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him. 

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you. 

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips. 

You could see through his game. 

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips. 

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

*** 

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him. 

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length. 

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine. 

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you. 

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement. 

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body. 

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head. 

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen. 

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you. 

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long. 

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened.  His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences.  "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body.  You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck. 

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

[adragonprinceswhore]

One Whore Is As Good As Another

Aemond x Brothel worker x (drunk) Aegon

Summary: Desperate to prove he's no mere boy, Prince Aemond leaves his taunting brother and seeks out another conquest. Momentarily, he feels back in control, until his brother reappears.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, reader is a brothel worker and has Valyrian features, targcest, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), face fuccin', P in V, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, titty slapping, humiliation, degradation, dysfunctional brothers

Word Count: 2000

A/N: I had this idea when I read the leaks for episode 3, and let's just say Aegon's awfulness worked great as inspiration. Filthy drabble ahead!

You've seen Prince Aemond's long, silver hair flash by in the corner of your eye countless times in the past weeks.

You never get the chance to observe the prince up close. He only appears fleetingly, confidently striding through the Blue Pearl towards the room where Madame Sylvie awaits him.

She seems to be his favourite; the only one allowed to touch the imposing young man. Sometimes he spends hours with her, though you are not privy to the details. All you know is that most men entering your place of employment conduct much shorter visits.

You do not envy your madame. Entertaining a Targaryen prince is no easy feat, from what you've heard.

Still, you do wonder what it would be like to catch his eye. For him to choose you, like he had chosen the madame.

Had he ever caught sight of you, like you did him? Had he ever seen the shimmer of your silver hair reflect in the corner of his eye?

Does you Valyrian heritage look as alluring as that of the statuesque prince, despite being born a bastard?

These thoughts had merely been fugitive, indulgent fantasies.

Until tonight.

Prince Aemond stands naked in the middle of the vast space in the heart of the Blue Pearl, seeing eye gazing out over the intertwined bodies moving in differing rhythms.

No one had asked for your services as of yet, and you'd therefore been tasked with refilling chalices and plates for the patrons.

The prince's gaze settles on you as you pour wine into a few cups scattered around, ensuring no one chases pleasure parched.

He walks towards you in slow, confident steps, seemingly uncaring that he is fully nude.

'Tis a brothel after all.

Placing the decanter back on the table, you curtsey as he draws near; trembling fingers fumbling with the thin material of your gown,

"Wine, your grace?"

"Do you work here?"

'Tis not the wine that caught his attention.

"Yes. How may I be of service?"

His eye scans the place, searching for a more secluded spot. He gestures towards a plush settee tucked away in a corner with a nod, prompting you to follow him there.

Walking next to the prince, you can truly admire the sharp features of his face. His hair is as fetching up close, and his skin resembles milk; so clear and smooth.

Clean.

Not fit for the filthy surroundings you'd been brought up in.

"Are you my uncle's bastard?"

His query catches you off guard,

"I-, I do not know, your grace. Mayhaps"

You could be his cousin.

Or his sister.

It matters little here; the gods had decided both of your fates when they ruled it fair he be born a prince and you a bastard to a whore in Flea Bottom.

Despite the evident uncertainty, your answer seems to please him.

Prince Aemond's hums, seeing eye narrowing and the right corner of his mouth twitching briefly, perhaps nearly breaking into a smile.

The possibility of you being his uncle's daughter excites him.

"Lay down"

You do as told, reclining on the settee. The corner the two of you occupy is fairly out of sight, yet there is no curtain hindering wandering eyes from seeing your act. It surprises you that the otherwise secretive prince would chose such an exposed place for your coupling, yet you say nothing.

The choice is his.

He inspects your form as you lie down; gaze traveling from the round softness of your breasts to the smooth skin of your inner thighs. The gown you wear leaves little hidden, and the prince's searing stare causes your heart to drum quicker in your chest.

The unpredictability of what he'll do next; of what he wants from you, causes as much unease within you as the determined look in his eye elicits.

He hums, head nodding faintly to himself, before he moves towards you, lifting one long, lean leg so he may straddle your chest.

His cock is right by your mouth, already growing larger as he gazes down at your face underneath him.

Perhaps 'tis the gaining of control that arouses the prince so; seeing you laid out for him with nothing but obedience to offer.

He feeds you his half-hard cock; not too brutish to force it all in your mouth at once. A prince still keeps his manners, you suppose.

Taking him in, you feel the skin of his member; hot and with a taste like salt. It's heavy in your mouth, and the awkward position the prince has you in does not allow you much movement.

He looks down at you; one eye stoney and unmoving, with shadows and light dancing in it. The other expressive and fierce.

Hungry.

Both his hands grab the back of the seat as he leans forward, forcing more of his cock down your throat. It prevents you from breathing, yet you do your best to appease him, sucking and swallowing him to the best of your ability.

You feel his balls slap your chin as he rocks into your mouth, pleased grunts escaping his lips.

A few more thrusts and you start to feel dizzy, not receiving enough air with the prince's manhood in your mouth and his lower belly pressed up against your nose.

You gently tap his leg and he abruptly pulls away from you, hurriedly moving off of you to stand next to the settee.

You cough as you inhale air once again, looking up at him with glassy eyes and wet lips, shining with spit.

His face is still harsh and demanding, and your gaze flickers down to his cock.

Decorated in your spit, it has grown double in size and is now red; like vexed skin after a beating.

You lay still, breathing rapidly to regain your senses. After giving you a moment to calm, Prince Aemond gestures for you to stand, and sits down on the settee.

He grabs your hips, dragging you towards his lap, and so 'tis your time to straddle him, take his cock in hand and sink down on it.

You know how to play these games. You know how to appease the men seeking your touch. Still, the moan you emit as you take in the prince is not solely performative; the stretch of his member fills you to the point of pain.

You bite your lip in a vain effort to concentrate, set on pleasing and serving your prince. Moving up and down in a slow pace, you grow wetter and more accustomed to his intrusion, and soon, your own pleasure follows.

"A-, ah, Prince Aemond", you call out, hoping the flattery will make him favour you even more. Mayhaps as much as he favours your madame.

He grunts and places his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him so he may rest his face against your scarcely clad bosom. He's enjoying you; reveling in your cunt, and it feels like the highest of praise.

You continue to call his title, his name, moving faster and harsher up and down his length, until,

"Brother!"

You catch the flash of a figure stumbling towards you in the corner of your eye, certain you know who it is before looking up;

King Aegon.

His lips are curved into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled,

"I knew you had it in ya!"

The king ends his exclamation with a slur, clearly far too drunk to be staggering around Flea Bottom unattended.

You'd never been eye to eye with the king before; word around the street was that he found the Blue Pearl far too dull. He requires more to quench his thirst for depravity.

And yet, seeing you ride his brother's cock seems to be to his liking,

"Come on, girl, ride the dragon!", King Aegon shouts before falling into a fit of laughter. His hand smacks your arse as if you were a mare, urging you to go faster.

You search the prince's face for approval, but he's not looking at you anymore. His dark gaze is trained on his brother; still harsh and determined. You take his silence for compliance and move faster; quick breaths of exhaustion and moans of pleasure slipping out from your still wet lips.

"Making her do all the work-",

Aegon's still laughing between the words he slurs out. Standing behind you, one of his hands move to cup your left breast, and he squeezes it roughly; too drunk to appreciate tenderness,

"-I can see why"

Prince Aemond is still silent; still staring at his amused brother.

"No, no, no, this won't do", the king mumbles as he releases the harsh grip he'd had on your breast,

"Remove your gown, bastard"

Again, you seek Prince Aemond's eye for instruction, but he does not grant it. So, you grab the hem of your thin attire and pull it off over your head, exposing yourself to the Targaryen brothers.

'Tis not like you've never been naked before; you entertain most guests nude. Still, there's something about the royals' presence, their ongoing, silent battle, that leaves you feeling more exposed than ever before.

King Aegon hums in appreciation at the sight of your bare teats, the same rough hand coming up to slap the side of one of them, chuckling as they knock together.

You pick up the pace to ride your prince again, yet the king does not leave you be. His voice is still amused, though tinted with something darker, as he commands his brother,

"I want to see you fuck her like a hound, Aemond"

The prince does not reply, and your pace does not falter. You were tasked with pleasuring the prince, and if he did not reply to his brother's orders, neither would you.

Though he is your king.

"Fuck her like a hound! Come on!"

King Aegon sounds more agitated now; impatient. He does not like that his brother does not obey him instantaneously; that he would refuse an order.

The prince is as stubborn as his elder, and in between the brothers, is you;

Caught between two dragons waging a war of wills.

"Get up", Prince Aemond grits through clenched teeth.

You comply, standing swiftly only to be turned and roughly placed back on the settee on your knees.

The prince places a hand on your lower back, pushing you to arch, and enters you in one stroke, reaching far deeper than your previous position had allowed.

He quickly sets a brutal pace; fucking your squelching cunt harsh and quick.

You desperately hold on to the back of the seat, vainly searching for some control as the prince takes his pleasure from you.

Behind you, you hear his laboured breaths and grunts, and the entertained cackle of the king,

"That's more like it!"

He walks around the settee to face you; watching your body as it sways back and forward with the prince's rough thrusts.

Leaning in closely, so closely that his wine-soaked breath is right by your cheek, King Aegon inquires, "How does royal cock feel?"

You know how to play these games.

"Heavenly, your grace"

He hums and touches a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger, "Is that what your mother thought as well?"

He does not bother with waiting for an answer from you; truly, he's not interested in knowing. Instead, he circles the settee yet again to stand next to his brother, mesmerised by the sight of his cock driving in and out of you,

"Where on her will you spill?"

Prince Aemond stays silent, pace never faltering.

“Face, teats or arse?”, his brother asks, but before his stoic sibling answers, he decides for him,

"Spill on her face. You got to appreciate those, uh, familiar features"

A few more rough strokes and the prince pulls out, grabs your waist, and turns you around so that you face them both. He pushes on your shoulder in a silent order for you to get on the floor, once again with his member in your face.

With a quick hand he strokes his slick cock, seed shooting out like arrows, landing on your cheeks, in your hair, on your lips.

He's breathing heavily, yet does not say anything, nor does he moan or grunt. He simply decorates your face in pearly luminescence, matching your silver hair and lilac eyes.

When he's done, he turns, and you see his older brother lay a comradery hand on his shoulder, commending him for "a good fuck".

As the brothers walk away together, you see the tension in Prince Aemond's shoulders ease ever so slightly.

The burdens of being a royal.

A/N: If the HotD writers want Aemond to be obsessed with his uncle, I'll comply! I like to write these little drabbles as a fun way to practice writing without much pressure, so please be kind, it's all just for fun!

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, can I please request Jacaerys x aunt!reader where he goes to her after the dance as she had been imprisoned in the dungeons and he offer her to let him have her or she'll be sentenced to death or sum. And reader is as pious and religious as Alicent and she is horrified by the idea of being sullied by ""bastard seed"" but she reveals to be c0ck-drunk by the end of it?

Jace Velaryon*Perfect Wife

Pairing: Jace x f!reader

Word count: 2809

Warnings: dub con, imprisonment, held at knife point (not during smut), praise, degradation, nipple play, p in v sex, hickeys, spanking, bruising, forced marriage, smut 18+c

Masterlist here

You weren’t much of a warrior. You had been raised the way a princess should have been. Well, that’s what your mother told you. However, when two days had passed since Aemond and Aegon had left to confront Rhanerya, and everyone refused to tell you what was happening you decided to get the hell out of there on your dragon.

Maybe you’d end up in Essos and sell a dragon egg for a home. Maybe even Dorne. You could try throw yourself on their mercy. After all, their ambassadors had always seemed to enjoy your company. However, all your plans soon crumbled when you accidentally flew into what you’d assumed to be an empty clearing.

You’d landed in a small field and had quickly tried to ‘borrow’ an apple from a local farm when you felt a strong grip on your arm and a sharp blade on your neck. So cold it had to be Valyrian steel. “And who do we have here?” you recognised Jace’s voice clearly. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you pretty girls shouldn’t go about dawdling?”

-

The stone floors bruised your knees each time you knelt to pray but you didn’t complain or even wince at the pain. You’d counted the days you’d been here by etching marks in the stone with the corner of your Seven-star necklace your mother had given you. 27 days so far. Each morning you prayed. Well, what you thought was morning. Then each afternoon then evening. Each time to a different member of the seven. Even the stranger since perhaps the god of death was the one you truly needed right now.

“My lady,” a sing song voice called out, “Lunch is ready,” Jace said as he approached your cell with his usual grin. He didn’t come every day but when he did it only seemed to add to your punishment. “I made sure to pick you the freshest apple,” he crouched down, holding it out to you.

You kept your eyes on the ground as you tried to finish your prayer, “C’mon now. They’re clearly not listening to you,” he mocked, sitting down the tray in front of the bars to your cell.

Still, you ignored him as you wrapped them up. Jace sighed and just as you finished your prayers he stood, taking the tray with him. “Where are you going?” you called, moving to stand on your feet and grabbing the bars, “That’s my food,”

“No this is my food,” he said, as if he was calling the sky blue, “And you never took it,”

“I was praying!”

“Not fast enough,” he teased. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to acknowledge the heir to Westeros,” he said as he turned to leave.

“My brothers not here,” you mumbled, turning around to go take your place on the wooden bench they called a bed.

The wine cup clattered against the wall, missing your head by only an inch. You span on your heels to confront him, but the only trace was your food dropped on the ground in a head and the apple slowly rolling towards your cell.

It stopped just out of arm’s length of the bars as if the gods really were mocking you. It took you laying on the ground, stretching out the tips of your fingernails to manage to roll it closer so you could grab it. You consoled yourself knowing he never came twice in one day.

Yet this time he did.

Jace arrived with a meal so nice looking it almost reminded you of what you used to eat. There was even a whole chicken leg on it. when he saw the apple core in the corner of your cell Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “Here,” he said, reaching it out for you to try manoeuvre through the bars when he suddenly pulled it back, “Aren’t you going to thank your prince?”

“Thank you,” you glared, reaching your hand out.

Jace just smirked, “Thank you what?”

“Thank you, dear nephew,” you offered with a fake smile.

“Say it. say that I am the true heir, a true prince, and I will be most obliged to give you this chicken leg. Straight from the queens table,” he said, showing it to you once more just to rub it in.

You could feel your stomach rumble, but you couldn’t say it. not after all this time. Not after all the battles. Not for a chicken leg. “My mother isn’t here,” you said through gritted teeth.

Jace reached through the bars, grabbing your neck before you could react. His grasp was tight but despite his fingers digging into your skin you weren’t afraid, “I can only be so patient,” he warned before letting you go. He turned to leave, taking the food with him, “besides, who said your mother is even alive?” he mocked before slamming the door shut behind him.

The stalemate continued for another day and a half and suddenly you were regretting not rationing the apple. At least the guards had kept your water jug topped up, but you didn’t want to risk that being taken too.

“I have a new deal,” Jace said, walking in empty handed.

“Where’s my food?” you said, not even standing from where you sat on your bed.

“That’s not very polite,” Jace tutted, leaning against the bars, “How would you like to get out of here?” you couldn’t help your eyes widening at the idea. Something Jace seemed to revel in. he unlocked your cell and despite wanting to run you sat still as he closed the door behind him. “Come here. Let me get a closer look at you,”

You wanted to slap him but instead you stood up and slowly crossed the floor while Jace’s eyes scanned your frame. “Still so beautiful,” he mumbled before he finally brought his eyes back to yours as your cheeks burned, “I have a new proposal for you,” he said, reaching to stroke your cheek. He was gentle but you still flinched at his touch.

He stepped closer, moving his hand down till he was toying with your necklace, his eyes not so subtly on your chest, “Marry me,” he said, and you instantly grimaced at his words, “Be my wife and I will let you free,”

“I wouldn’t be free,” you snapped, “I’d be the wife of a bastard, a nobody, a waste of space- “you began to spit your venom at him only to be cut off by his tight grasp around your neck.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I was you,” he warned, “What I’m offering is generous. You should hear what Daemon had planned for you,” he dropped his grip and you instantly stepped back, trying to recatch your breath.

Jace slowly began to circle you, eyeing you up from every angle as you silently thought over his offer when suddenly a thought popped into your head, “What’s in it for you? Last time I checked you already had a betrothed,”

“Alliances can change, we both know that” he drawled, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grazed your hip. Not mine, you thought, but you stayed silent instead. “Besides I need a wife. Someone to show off in court,” his hand trailed up from your hip to your waist making you shudder through the thin dress they’d gave you, “Someone to bear children. Someone to warm my bed,” he said, his lips pressed against your ear.

His hand went to move to your front, but you grabbed his wrist before he could touch anything, “I’d rather die,” you spat.

Jace grabbed your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against his chest, “That can be arranged,” he warned but he still wore his teasing smirk, “You think you’d survive here without me? A pretty young things like yourself in nothing but her night dress roaming around court, think of the scandals. Gods help you if you even make it out the castle. What do you think the small folk would do with a princess like you?”

“Perhaps they’d save me. If they believed in the true king,” you said, trying to hold firm but feeling yourself shake.

He chuckled under his breath, “There is only a queen. C’mon, I can’t be that bad surely. You saying you’ve never thought about it?” he said, his hand moving down to your ass, his lips moving to your ear, “Its not just the gods who know your dirty little secrets,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your neck.

“I want my dragon back,” you said suddenly making Jace lift his head from where he’d been dragging his lips across your neck, “If I’m to be your wife,”

“As soon as your belly swells with my seed,” he said, “Anything else?”

It felt like a trap, but you tried anyway, “And separate rooms. I don’t want to see you more than I have to,”

He chuckled this time, “That can be arranged, anything else?” you eyed him carefully before shaking your head no. one child and then you could escape with your dragon. It would take a year, maybe two, and then you’d be free. “Good. I shall have them draw up a treaty. But in the meantime,” he said, grabbing your ass so suddenly you gasped, “I want some kind of reassurance you won’t back out,”

“And what’s that?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he said making the words dry up in your throat, “And if I didn’t know any better id say you wanted me too,”

“And if I say no?” you asked.

Jace dropped his grip, but a smirk fell on his lips as he began to walk away. “Then no deal,” he said, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” you called, reaching out to grab his arm. Jace turned his gaze back to you with a knowing smirk, “I suppose if you are to be my husband. The gods, they’d understand,” you said, trying to rationalise it all.

Jace moved closer to you till his chest was flush against yours, “I’m sure they’d understand after all,” he said, pushing the hair out of your face, “Who could blame you for wanting some pleasure in your life?” he said, his hand trailing down till he grabbed your tit, squeezing it softly, “Why would something that feels so good be so wrong?” he whispered in your ear, his hand traveling lower to your thighs, toying with the hem of his dress.

His lips moved to kiss down your jaw, across your neck till he was kissing your undiscovered sweet spot making you moan softly. His arms moved to slip around your waist, pulling you somehow closer to him as your hands rested on his shoulders. You gasped when he squeezed your ass and winced at the quick slap, he gave it before his hands moved to the hem of your dress.

The cold air rushed over your frame, making your nipples harden as Jace pulled the dress over your head in one swoop. The only thing to cover you was your necklace but right now that felt even worse. Jace’s eyes travelled your frame, soaking up every inch, “The gods have blessed me with you,” he murmured.

“You do not know the gods,” you glared but Jace just chuckled as his hands went to cup your tits, stroking his thumbs over your perked nipples making you whimper.

“Perhaps you don’t either,” he said as he led you by your hips to your bed. He sat on it, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you into his lap.

His lips moved to your collarbones, kissing and nipping at the soft skin. Your brain told you to push him away, but a strange feeling was overcoming your body as his hands moved to your hips. You could feel a hard bulge under his trousers as he began to move your hips, pushing your core onto his clothed cock. You moaned at the friction, his bulge rubbing perfectly against your clit sending shock waves up your body.

Soon you felt your hips begin to buck and move of their own accord. You felt his smirk against your skin as his hands moved to your tits. You gasped when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers making you moan. “Oh god,” you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when he took one into his mouth, sucking on the perked bud.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, your moans growing louder as you took the gods in vain at the top of your lungs. You felt your peak hit you like a boulder before you slumped into Jace’s chest.

He moved to kiss your cheek with a chuckle. “Not even fucked you yet and look at you,” Jace said, slipping his hand down to rub against your sensitive core making your body lurch, “So wet for me,” he praised, his hand moving to unlace his trousers. “Can’t wait to see what my cock does to you,”

Before you could protest you felt his tip pressing into your entrance. You gasped, your hands moving to grab his shoulders, “Aw,” Jace pouted, “Does it hurt?” he mocked, pushing you down further, “Too fucking bad,” he practically growled as he used your hips to push you all the way down.

You almost screamed at the feeling, as if you were being split in half but Jace groaned, throwing his head back against the wall as you felt his cock twitch inside you, “Fuck you’re so tight,” he praised, giving you a moment to adjust. Your hips betrayed you again, moving without your mind thinking making him chuckle.

“Such a desperate little thing,” Jace mocked, grabbing your jaw as you tried to move away. His thumb ran over your bottom lip before using it to pry your mouth open, resting it on your tongue, “Good girl,” he praised, his free hand moving your hips.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you felt him hit all the right spots. You gave up trying to resit as your hips began to grind onto his cock.

Jace’s hands moved to your hair, grabbing it suddenly and pulling it back so he could have full access to your neck. You were sure by the way he kissed it there would be marks tomorrow but that didn’t matter now. Your hands went to his hair, tugging it softly making him growl against your skin.

His free hand went to your ass, grabbing it tightly before suddenly leaving stinging slaps against the soft flesh. You could feel your second peak fast approaching and when Jace moved to run quick circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves you felt your cunt squeeze around him as it came crashing down again.

“Fuck,” Jace mumbled, a stream of profanity tumbling from his lips as his hands moved to your hips so he could fuck you through your orgasm, “You feel so good,” he praised, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You felt yourself coming down from your high and his movements began to slow, “Don’t stop Jace. Please gods don’t stop,” you began to beg, and you could feel his smirk.

“Begging suits you,” he teased, grabbing your jaw so he could make you face him, “You look so good right now. So drunk on my cock. Is that it?”

“Yes,” you whined, “I need you please,”

“Aw my poor baby,” he teased, “So desperate for her king,”

“Yes,” you weren’t even thinking any longer, and a spark ignited behind his eyes, “Need you. Want you my king,” you moaned.

Jace grabbed your hips tightly, standing suddenly before turning as you back slammed against the wall. You winced until you felt his hips begin to snap up against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tight against you. This new angle had him hitting newer spots that had your legs wrapping tight around him.

“So good,” Jace mumbled against your skin as you felt a third orgasm approaching, “My perfect little wife,” his words sent you tumbling over the edge.

Jace couldn’t resist anymore as your cunt squeezed around his cock and with a couple more pumps, he began to spill his seed. His thrusts became slow as he rode out his own peak, fucking his seed deep inside you. You were both panting as he pulled out, his forehead resting against yours as your feet finally hit the ground again.

“I always knew you had a dark side in you,” Jace chuckled as he pulled away.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you in your sleep, husband,” you threatened but the last word made him smile. Maybe this was a good trade after all.

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[hurlingdown]

NEED YOU — TOP MALE READER X RORONOA ZORO

synopsis. zoro being drunk and needy for your attention was always a sight to behold. but after being way too focused on his training and barely interacting with you for a full week, it wouldn't be fair for you to just give him what he wants. guess he'll just have to earn it from you, one way or another. wc. 2.1k

tags. anal sex, drunk sex, fingering, slight feminisation, tit-sucking, overstimulation, reader edging both zoro and himself in the process, creampie, bit of cockwarming

It wasn’t often that you got to see him like this. 

Zoro pressed his hard-on against your abdomen, making a low, needy noise into the crook of your neck. You held in a leer as he clumsily rocked his hips against your crotch, thighs clenching around your hips, trying to get you hard and ready for him to ride. 

You chose to feign nonchalance. It was always more fun when you made him beg for it. “What’s the special occasion, hm? I smell sake.” 

Zoro mumbled your name, borderline whining, “Not the point.” 

“Yeah?” You grinned. “It’s part of your routine at this point, no? Drinking, sleeping, training. I don’t think you need anything else to keep you satisfied.” 

It wasn’t like you were angry with him. The time you spent together had been barely existent in the past week, with him busy perfecting his swordsmanship in the day and falling asleep immediately when you came to join him in bed. On lazy days he would be sneaking alcohol from the kitchen to drink, and then dozing off—but none of these activities involved you. 

It wasn’t like you were angry—just slightly irritated that maybe he had forgotten about you. But it didn’t matter now, did it? 

Zoro sat back on his haunches, eyes wide with defiance. “No, no—” He leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “I need this—need you.” 

You kept the kiss as chaste as possible (if it even was possible, as he tried multiple times to stick his tongue into your mouth), hands moving to his waist to gently tug him back, ignoring his red, flushed face, drool almost trickling at the corner of his mouth. One kiss was all it took to reduce him to a mess. It was always a sight to see him drunk and needy, eyes hazy and lips parted, begging for you to take him right there. 

Not today, though. 

“Why’d you—stop?” Zoro panted, hands tightening on your shirt to pull you into another kiss, only to frown petulantly when you held him still. “What? What is it?” 

The corner of your lip twitched as you hid a sadistic smile. 

“I’m not in the mood.” 

“You’re—” Zoro’s eyebrows scrunched up, and he made a face. “And I’m not in the mood for—” He hiccups. “—jokes.” He grinds his front against the hard outline of your cock, letting out a brazen moan, as though proving his statement. 

“I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.” 

“You’re always in the mood.” 

“Not today,” you told him, not even bothering to be apologetic as Zoro continued to helplessly grind against you, showing you how much he needed this, how badly he wanted it. “And that’s a biological reaction, it means nothing.” 

“Babe,” Zoro whined. “I’m—please—fuck, there, I said it!” He looked at you expectantly, as if he thought you were conditioned to respond to all his requests with one word. 

You looked at him, amused. “You thought I wanted you to beg?” 

“You didn’t?” Zoro frowned, confusion taking over his features before the possibility of you really not being in the mood dawned on him. Humiliation washed over him, and as though he wasn’t red enough already, a steady blush travelled down his neck and into the dip of his yukata, and if you were a weaker man, you would have ripped it off long ago to bite and suck at his huge chest until he was shivering with overstimulation, nothing but broken consonants of your name slipping past his lips. “Why now of all times? You’re, hngh—a cruel bastard.” 

“Am I not allowed to not be in the mood?” 

You grinned at him as he blinked back the tears gathering in his eyes, so painfully hard only to have you deny him of his birthright. 

“I got all ready for you,” Zoro muttered, glaring at you, “and this is what you do to me.” You were careful not to let any excitement show. After all, he had gone and prepped himself for you. He had probably laid on the bed with his hand between his thighs, three knuckles deep inside his tight hole and still pushing one more in—lifting his head with difficulty to watch them go in and out, in and out, feeling so full and yet not enough. 

“How about,” you suggested, smiling at him innocently, “you get me in the mood?” 

“What—how?” His head felt light from the alcohol, his mind was fuzzy, and all he wanted was that fat cock pounding so deep in him that he couldn’t even register the question. “Oh.” He swallowed. “I could.” 

Zoro got up from your lap, albeit a little pettish, and slowly crawled onto the bed. He slid his yukata over his shoulders to pool around his knees, revealing strong delts and a scarless back, save for the almost-faded bruises and love bites littered all over—the remnants of a heated night. Your eyes chased the bead of sweat that trickled down between his shoulder blades, down, down, down—until it reached two firm globes that you wanted to squeeze, or maybe spank them until they were red and aching, until he cried. Zoro canted his hips back to show you the wet, stretched-out hole between them, clenching and fluttering around nothing as he gave a pitiful whine into the pillow he held. 

That was when you realised. He had chosen a promising position, folding his arms and arching his back, pressing his tits onto the soft mattress, a keen, heated gaze thrown over his shoulder to make sure you were watching him. Presenting the most vulnerable part of himself to you. 

You were so fucking hard. But you weren’t going to give in so easily. 

Zoro, seeing as you gave no reaction, spread his legs a little wider, squirming on the sheets to settle into the right pose. He laid the side of his head on the pillow so you could watch, and then staring dead into your eyes, shoved three fingers deep into his mouth and moaned shamelessly around them, as though imagining it were your cock. He coated them with saliva as he slurped them, his blissful expression implying that he was sucking at anything but his fingers. 

You swallowed harshly as drool dripped down his face and onto the pillow, but he didn’t seem to care, only stuck the tip of his tongue out, sliding it between his middle and ring finger, as though mimicking the way he would toy at the slit of your cock. 

Fucking hell. You were moments away from ripping off your pants and pounding him senseless, but then apparently Zoro decided his fingers were wet enough—he pulled them out from his mouth, sticky spit drenching them. Reaching back, he deliberately made a mess as he slapped his fingers against the pink rim of his tight hole, the action making a wet, lewd sound, biting back a moan as one of them slightly dipped in. 

It wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. It wouldn’t matter if it was three fingers, four, five—the whole fucking fist—it wouldn’t matter unless it was your cock. He wanted it so fucking badly, but there you were, sitting there like a fool, not giving him what he wanted when he needed it the most. Zoro whines out your name as he shoves two fingers inside, impatient as usual—his hole clenched around them, unused to the sudden intrusion. 

Zoro’s cock hung heavy between his legs, untouched, as his other hand obediently supported his weight. He added one more finger, shuddering as he pressed against his prostate, good but not big enough. 

“Please,” he pleaded, the last of his dignity thrown out the window. “Need you so bad, ‘m gonna die.” He raised his head to give you one last look—face red and teary, lips red from being bitten so hard to suppress his moans, and you fucking lose it. 

In mere seconds, you had thrust to the hilt and Zoro had barely any time to adjust to the size, mouth forming a silent scream as his eyes rolled back. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, finally—” he cried, hips meeting your thrusts as unshed tears streamed down his face. “More, harder—ah!” 

You repeatedly nailed his prostate from behind, setting an absolutely punishing pace as you brazenly groaned out his name, uncaring if anyone heard the two of you. “Zoro, fuck, so good, so good for me, so tight—” 

Zoro pushed back against you, always greedy for more, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as he panted and whined into his pillow. Normally that wouldn’t do, but you would deal with that later—not now, when he was clenching down on you with every thrust, crying out profanities that would send a whorehouse to shame, “I’m yours, fuck me—hnngh, ah! Fuck me with your—cock! Use me, ruin me—” 

“Fuck—Zoro—stop that, it’s too soon—” 

Zoro craned his head to snarl at you, clenching down harder if anything, “I’ll fucking kill you if you come before me!” 

“Well loosen up,” you snapped back, pounding into him harder and deeper, as he sobbed at the new angle, pleasure swelling in his core. 

“More, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuuuuuuck,” he cried, eyes glossed over as he whimpered, “I need more!” 

“You’re barely hanging on—” you groaned as he thrust back against you just right, making you see stars. “And you're asking for more—?” 

“Just give it to me, harder—” 

Little moans and whines were punched out of him with every thrust as the wet slap of skin against skin and sick squelching sounds filled the room, and you pulled out all of a sudden, watching him scramble to get back on your cock with a displeased growl, he was so fucking close, and still, and still—

You took the opportunity to grab his hips and flip him onto his back, ramming your cock back inside—a direct hit against his prostate, at the same time wrapping a hand around his cock and giving it a hard, firm jerk, thumb digging into the slit—and then Zoro’s coming, locking up tight, clenching down hard on your length as he damn nearly howls your name, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out, body shuddering with the force of his release. 

“I’m so close, fuck, Zoro, Zoro—” you moaned, hands positioned on the back of his knees, spreading his legs wide as you continued to fuck into his used hole, making his toes curl and his nails dig down your back, bordering on overstimulation. 

"Too much—I can't!" he cried, tears leaking out of his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. "Just fucking come already—"

You slammed into him harder, making him choke on a moan. You had originally planned on going easy on him, but you guessed he wasn't planning on walking tomorrow anyway.

“Come inside,” Zoro demanded, weakly glaring up at you as he dared you to defy him, despite panting heavily and still shivering from his body-wracking orgasm. “Wanna feel you.” His cock hung limply between his legs, jolting every now and then as you pounded into him, but it was going to take a while before he was fully hard again. 

You bent down to take his tit into your mouth, sucking at it like a lifeline, like you expected something to come out of it, and Zoro whined, trembling, his tight hole practically wringing you dry as you continued to nail him into the sheets, intense pleasure flooding your senses as you bit and sucked at his chest, the need to mark him up as yours overwhelming you. 

“Gonna come so hard, fuck, s’tight, s’good, mine, Zoro—” 

“Love you—” 

That did it for you. His lips parted and you dove forward to kiss him, bending him in half as you did—cock stuffing him to the brim while you keened, vision whitening out as you moaned shamelessly into the kiss. As you pumped him full of your come, he clenched hard around you, trying to keep it all inside him. 

“Love you too,” you gasped belatedly, panting. 

You shuddered as you felt Zoro’s legs lock around your waist, stopping you from pulling out. 

“Keep it in,” he muttered, eyes drooping. “Take it out in the morning.” 

You watched with fascination as Zoro fell asleep within seconds, snuggling back onto the pillow he had moaned and drooled all over earlier, and you wondered how it was possible for someone who had been so insanely erotic to shift back into his usual sleepy self in a matter of moments. 

Chuckling to yourself, you pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead and settled down beside his sleeping form, making sure to plug him up properly with your cock and not letting even a single drop of your come spill from his hole.  masterlist!

[xxsabitoxx]

Competition | 15k Special

Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader

Warnings: MxMxF threesome, pussy eating, raw fucking, 69-ing, 69-ing while fucking, come eating, creampies, squirting, the usual

A/N: Alright here's the first 15k 3sum special! Up next is Sato/Sugu~

Word Count: 2.8k

You weren’t sure how you ended up in the position you were in now, but you were fairly certain it wasn’t your fault. Though, the two men you were pressed between would likely beg to differ.  Drinks with the two men turned into talking, which turned into flirting, which also turned into bitching with one another before finally you were dragged back to Sanemi’s home. Something about settling “who's better” once and for all. “Oh fuck…” Your head fell back against a muscular shoulder as the man situated between your thighs brought you your third orgasm. 

“Giyu… please e-ease up!” you gasped, hips bucking upwards and into his face rather than away from it. He didn’t answer of course, mouth far too preoccupied with lapping at your cunt. “Don’t stop, Tomioka. I want her to be nice and sloppy when I impale her on my dick.” You gasped, nails digging roughly into the muscular thighs that caged you. It was a dead lock position, you couldn’t get away from either man if you wanted to… not that you would want to in the first place. 

Your back was pressed snuggly to Sanemi’s front, his arms wrapped around you just under your armpits, toying with your breasts every so often but he was too enthralled watching Giyu eat you out. Sanemi’s legs caged you in, pressing to your hips tightly while Giyu had your legs thrown over his shoulders. He had been settled between your legs for who knows how long now, nipping, sucking, and licking your cunt until you couldn’t see straight.

“Sanemi please, do something to me.” You whined, nearly delirious from the pleasure Giyu was providing you. The white haired man, who had been so damn cocky, was leaving you hanging because of how much he enjoyed seeing Giyu eat your pussy like it was his last meal. “Do something to you? Huh, Tomioka mustn't be doing a good job if you’re still thinking about me.” He drawled proudly, calloused fingers rising to roll your perked nipples between them.

You yelped, hips bucking into Giyu’s face as he continued to lap up every drip of arousal that you offered. It only took a second for his hands to find your abdomen, pushing you down and forcing you back into submission without saying a single word. “Fuck almighty…” Sanemi sneered, watching as Giyu’s nails dug into your thighs to keep you still. “...I bet I could fuck you stupid right now, sweetheart, and he’d still have his head buried down there… pussy drunk bastard.” 

Sanemi couldn’t deny the way his cock was twitching, pressed snuggly to the warmth of your back and getting some friction each time your hips bucked upwards. Still, it wasn’t enough, especially when Giyu was slurping and grunting so loudly he was making him believe your pussy was a five course meal. Nothing seemed to deter the ravenette between your thighs, not even Sanemi’s typical smart ass remarks. “Giyu.. fuck you’re gonna make me cum again…” 

He only grunted, blue eyes flickering up to meet yours. The look on your face was enough to have Giyu rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that was throbbing dully between his thighs. Giyu’s eyes met Sanemi’s next, a look of fucked-out bliss passing over his navy irises, as if taunting Sanemi. The other man didn’t really appreciate that, the spike in his annoyance manifesting physically as he kneaded your breasts. 

You cried out, the added stimulation throwing you over the edge for a fourth time as your thighs quivered. You could feel it now, how wet the sheets were just below where your ass pressed into them. Drool mixed with arousal created quite the unfortunate mess, though none of you really seemed to mind it. “Alright, fucking ease up you prick.” Sanemi scolded Giyu as tears began to leak out of your eyes, far too gone to actually say it for yourself. Giyu finally gave in, parting from your cunt with a shiny mouth and chin. 

Giyu pushed up, surveying the damage to the sheets as Sanemi manoeuvred himself out from behind you. “Don’t even think about it.” Sanemi practically growled as Giyu moved to crawl over you, eyes meeting in a heated stare as if he couldn’t believe Sanemi thought he could order him around. “I just made her cum four times, Shinazugawa. I don’t think you have any room to talk.” Sanemi huffed out an unamused laugh, grabbing a fistful of Giyu’s hair before roughly yanking. 

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking too like that, Tomioka?” You watched them, holding yourself up on your elbows as both men stared at each other. Their faces were inches apart, despite the position he was in, Giyu still looked pretty defiant. “I’m talking to you, Shinazugawa. Once you make her cum four times, you can try and act like we’re equals.” He spat, not backing down as Sanemi gripped his hair a little tighter. Instead of saying something in return, Sanemi smashed his lips to Giyu’s. You gasped, watching as Sanemi’s tongue pushed past Giyu’s lips. 

Before Giyu even got a chance to properly respond, Sanemi was pulling away. “She tastes fucking sweet and you were hogging her.” Giyu only smirked, one that faded quickly when Sanemi pushed him away. “It’s your turn to sit and fucking watch.” Giyu couldn’t fight that, moving to the other side of the bed to give Sanemi plenty of space for whatever it is he wanted to do. He stood at the side of the mattress, smiling gently at you. “Do you think you could get on your hands and knees in front of me, honey?” The nickname made you squirm, nodding to do as he asked. 

You crawled across the mattress, turning yourself to face Giyu as you got on your hands and knees. Sanemi smirked, uttering a soft “good girl” as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Tomioka made a fucking mess of you, I can go right in.” You whined out a yes, not interested in anymore foreplay when your cunt was practically throbbing with the need to be filled. You had prepared yourself for him to be rough, instead, he pressed into you slowly. 

You moaned as the dull head of his cock impaled itself in your cunt, pushing further until you enveloped it completely. He stayed still, panting softly as your walls suctioned and spasmed around the little bit of him that was inside. Giyu had to admit that Sanemi had far more self control than him, he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back if the roles were reversed. Sanemi gave you another second before pushing more of himself in, watching you pull at the sheets until they were taut under your grasp. “Good, you’re doing so good.” 

It didn’t hurt, Giyu had truly made a mess of you, it was too wet between your thighs to hurt. There was, however, the familiar stretch, an achy feeling as Sanemi pushed more of himself inside of you. “Oh…” you whined, unable to stop your hips from jerking away from him. “Don’t try to run from me, sweetheart.” He cooed, pulling you back to him with one swift motion. It pulled the air from your lungs, pleasure ebbing through your veins as he pushed himself inside. 

Inch by inch, Sanemi could feel everything, the way your cunt clenched tightly around him before trying to push him back out, if you weren’t suffocating him so tightly, he would have chuckled. “Fuck… yeah you wouldn’t have lasted five seconds inside of her, Tomioka.” He wanted to sound cocky but his voice came out strained, forehead creasing as he bottomed out. “You sure about that, Shinazugawa? You look like you’re seconds away from blowing your load.”

Sanemi tilted his head just a bit, eyes roaming over the way Giyu was gripping his cock tightly. He would have made a remark about the way Giyu’s precum was already leaking over his fist if you didn’t clench around him.All he could muster was a quiet groan of “fuck off” as he tried to calm his breathing and not make a fool of himself by coming too fast. You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to wait as you started to try and fuck yourself on him.

 It took a fraction of a second for Sanemi’s hands to find your hips, gripping them so tightly to keep you from moving that it genuinely hurt. “Oh fuck…” you hissed, relishing in the pain as your walls squeezed him tightly. “S-shit sorry I did-ha-didn’t mean to.” he let go almost immediately, shaky hands rubbing the skin he had hurt tenderly. You relaxed, head pressing into the mattress lazily as a shiver passed over you. “Mmm s’alright.” you slurred softly, any ounce of resistance or burn was gone, all that was left was throbbing need. 

“I need you to move, Nemi.” You couldn’t get his whole name out, settling for the cuter nickname instead. A low gasp left him, the self restraint he had was wearing dangerously thin. “You sure?” he choked out, hips already drawing back slightly before rocking back into you. You nodded, moaning out a quiet “please” as he took the initiative and started rutting into you, head falling back as he relished in the drag of his cock through your velvety walls. Giyu watched, lips parted as his fist started moving up and down his length in time with Sanemi’s thrusts. 

You didn’t have the strength to keep your head up, letting it fall forward, dangling a bit as you looked down your own body to see Sanemi’s hips meeting your own. His thrusts were deep and fast, making your breast jiggle each time your bodies made contact. “Tomioka, quit fucking your fist and make yourself useful.” That caught your attention, head lifting slightly to look at the man sitting by the headboard. “Useful?” he gasped out, squeezing his length tightly as you moaned.

“Yeah, useful.” Sanemi held his gaze, eyes flickering down to your cunt and back up at Giyu, hips stuttering as he nodded his head a bit. Giyu seemed to catch on, letting himself go to crawl forward. “You want me to…?” He questioned softly, face heating up as slick squelches started to sound each time Sanemi’s hips met your ass. “Don’t make me–ha–spell it out for you.” Giyu could see his lip tremble as he bottomed out again, hips rolling into you slowly now. 

Giyu pulled his attention away from the other man, eyes meeting yours with a lazy grin. “Do you think you have the strength to hold yourself up for a second, baby?” You whined at the name, walls squeezing around Sanemi’s cock. “Oh? She liked that, Tomioka.” Sanemi’s hands held your hips a little tighter, supporting you more as you forced your head upwards “Go ahead.” you smiled at Giyu, butterflies whirling around your stomach as he moved to lay beneath you. You shivered as he bent down, kissing you quickly before eyeing Sanemi. 

You sunk your teeth into your cheek, Sanemi had sheathed himself completely inside of you, watching as Giyu got himself comfortable under your body. Giyu’s breath fanned across your abdomen, earning a shiver as he pushed himself a little more. You knew he was there when his hair tickled your inner thighs. If it weren’t for Sanemi being buried deep inside of you, your thighs would have tried to close. “Fuck… Sanemi start moving.” Giyu breathed out, shocking Sanemi a bit by using his first name. He listened regardless. 

The quick thrusts of Sanemi’s hips grounded you in reality, head turning downward. Giyus cock was inches from your face, tip flushed pink with precum oozing from it. “Ah fuck…” You let your arms relax a bit, weight shifting to lay on Giyu as his hands found your waist. You took the chance, lowering your head to lick along his shaft. Giyu’s mind went blank the moment he felt your tongue, stuttering just a bit as you wrapped your puffy lips around his irritated tip. 

He started placing open mouth kisses along your cunt, brain melting with each pass of your tongue over his slit. Sanemi’s pace had faltered, eyes watching eagerly as you started to go down on Giyu, all the while he was maybe a little too aware of Giyu’s head below him. Giyu’s tongue managed to continue lavishing your clit even as Sanemi held your hips, rutting into you at a new brutal pace. You felt your eyes crossing, squeezing them shut as you moaned around Giyu’s cock

Drool was seeping down your chin, covering his shaft and public bone with your shiny saliva. You lowered your head further, trying to ignore the build up in your gut as you took over half of his length in your mouth. Giyu’s moan vibrated against your cunt, earning a shrill whine from you as your walls clamped down around Sanemi’s cock. He cursed loudly, hips stuttering in their pace because you made it impossible to move for a moment. 

“Gonna fucking cum, aren’t you?” Sanemi’s words were directed at both of you, even though he knew both of your mouths were too preoccupied to even respond. You swallowed around Giyu, earning a strangled cry against your cunt as you felt him start twitching. Reaching forward, you gently cupped his balls, warm and heavy in your hands. For a moment, Giyu swore tears were burning his eyes as the pleasure he felt only intensified. Your mouth was suffocatingly warm, the silky-soft touch of your tongue was almost too much for him. 

And then you went and cupped his balls, massaging them gingerly until his hips were bucking up into you. The sound of your gag was enough to make Sanemi curse, hands gripping you tightly as he pounded into you with such force that your thighs and ass recoiled harshly. Everything was too much, not only for you but for Giyu and Sanemi as well. It took a fraction of a second for Giyu to lose it, cum spilling down your throat in hot, sticky ropes. You flinched, throat relaxing to keep yourself from gagging again as you worked him through his orgasm. 

 The sounds he was making continued to vibrate you. Your own orgasm built up until the dam finally broke, a strangled cry leaving your lips as your head tossed back, letting go of Giyu’s cock in the process. Both men were covered in your release, sticky and wet from the gush of fluid that left you. You cried out, tears streaking your cheeks as Sanemi’s hips thrusted into you, chasing his own release. You couldn’t breath as Giyu’s hands reached under you, pushing on your abdomen, feeling the way Sanemi’s cock dragged in and out of your slippery cunt. 

That was enough for Sanemi, his head falling forward as a silent cry left his lips. Your arms had long since given out, head now resting on Giyu’s thigh as Sanemi pumped you full of his own release. The room was quiet now, full of ragged breathing as you tried to lift yourself enough for Giyu to get out from under you. “Fuck almighty.” Sanemi choked at the sight of Giyu’s ruined appearance. The man was covered in your release, hair and all. You turned your head the best you could to see him, face turning molten hot as you realized what you had done to him. 

“Oh fuck Giyu I’m so sorry…” you tried to move but Sanemi’s hands kept you in place. He wasn’t ready to let you move yet, not even as he was softening instead of you. “Don’t be sorry.” Giyu’s face was bright red, lips swollen from everything he had done to you. “… I kinda like it.” That revelation had all of you looking away from one another. “If that’s the case… I want to try it out for myself.” Sanemi stated boldly, eyes still trailing over Giyu before switching to look at you. 

“You think you could last another round, sweetheart? I wanna try out Tomioka’s position.” All you could do was give a feeble nod, that same throbbing desire building in your gut as you felt Sanemi hardening within you again. He pulled out, creamy release following him. “You really made a mess.” it was an off hand comment as he eyes the shiny ring around his base. “Like you don’t fucking like it sloppy, Shinazugawa.” Giyu snorted, trying his best to not let you know his legs were feeling weak after everything you just did. 

“Woah wait…” you started, sitting on your knees to look back over your shoulder at the two of them. “Don’t I need to tell you who was better? Isn’t that why we ended up here in the first place?” You just wanted to tease them, watching as both men shared a glance. “We’ll worry about that another day, for now just let us fuck you.” Sanemi groaned, moving onto the mattress and nearly collapsing. “Nah…” You chuckled “I think it’s safe to say I am the better one.” Considering both men were feeling like their legs were made of jelly, you were likely right. 

[promisingyounglady]

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja? 

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You. 

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order. 

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee. 

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife. 

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives. 

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment. 

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all. 

— Your coffee, master. 

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask. 

— Do you have a boyfriend? 

Oh. 

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening. 

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it. 

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly. 

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for. 

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful? 

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are. 

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment. 

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket. 

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible. 

— But I can make an exception! 

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day. 

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business. 

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long. 

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately. 

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say. 

God, this is hopeless. 

— Can I get my special offer now? 

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you. 

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you. 

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this. 

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already. 

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass. 

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him. 

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here. 

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return. 

And he does have your number with him. 

— Are you happy with the pictures, master? 

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much. 

God, he can’t wait to make you his. 

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house. 

[ellecdc]

hi gorgeous!! I love your writings so much :)

I was wondering if u could request a poly!marauders x fem!reader who just loves baking so much and keeps leaving the boys little treats around the house depending on what each boy likes and they’re just so lovestruck for her, just like lots of fluff and them being the lover boys they are

thank you so much <3

this is so sweet! thanks for requesting, I hope you love it!! 💖

poly!marauders x fem!reader who loves to bake

James walked in to the flat and was immediately bombarded with the smell of freshly baked goods. One would think after three weeks of you living with them that he would have grown accustomed to it, but the expression on his face grew into what he could only imagine was pure, unadulterated bliss at the welcoming aroma that he could only describe as distinctly you. 

He’d hardly gotten his shoes off and hung his jacket before Pads was yanking him past the kitchen and into the living room.

“Sshh! Don’t interrupt, just watch.” Sirius stressed and he forced James to kneel on the sofa facing the window into the kitchen. James had half a mind of squawking at him but couldn’t deny the beautiful picture this painted.

“He’s been in there with her all day.” Sirius offered as James watched Remus follow you around the kitchen as if the two of you had been charmed into magnets, and he was hopelessly drawn to you. Apparently, you were either unaware of his proximity or unfazed by it. James didn’t blame you at all, though; he often felt drunk in love when Remus was paying that much attention to him too. He also felt drunk in love when watching you do anything at all. He was sort of drunk in love having Sirius’ arm wrapped around his waist right now.

James was just always drunk in love.

“What could she possibly be making now? I’ve not even finished all the apple turnover’s she made for me!” James murmured, though his concern was belittled by the raging grin spreading across his face.

“I haven’t finished the ginger snaps she made for me either, but she’s making Rem chocolate croissants.” He stage-whispered.

“Oh my gods, that sounds heavenly.” James whispered back, watching Remus make heart eyes at you as you explained something to him; the poor sod wasn’t even paying attention to the instructions. James couldn’t blame him, however, when the instructor was as pretty as you. “Think he’ll share with us?”

“Fat chance.” Remus called from kitchen, apparently privy to the whispered conversation going on in the room next to him. You looked up surprised at Remus’ interjection, apparently not having heard the dialogue.

“What?” You asked innocently, though your brows furrowed in concern – you knew better when it came to these boys. 

“Moony says he won’t share the croissants with us, dollface.” Sirius lamented, putting on his best kicked puppy impression. You seemed to melt a little bit at that, but Remus – the bastard – pressed up against you and shoved his nose in the crook of your neck, causing you to melt even more than Sirius could hope from such a distance.

“Oi – foul! Come on!” James cried at the unfair advantage Remus had.

“You boys still have your treats, don’t you?” You asked quietly, clearly more than a little embarrassed at how easily you were swayed by Remus loving-up on you. James almost felt bad about being petulant. Almost.

But not quite.

“Everything you make is so wonderful and filled with love though, angel.” He pouted. Remus groaned in exasperation, though he never bothered to peel himself off of your back.

“Fine. You sods can have some.”

James and Sirius both cheered from their spots on the couch as if they’d been watching football on the telly.

“We’re going to have to get those blood test thingies to watch our blood sugar, though.” Sirius commented.

“Worth it.” Remus and James said in unison. 

[gemini-atz]

WOOYOUNG NSFW AUDIO🎧 Imagine: Possessive Fratboy! Wooyoung X Reader

!!18+ content Minors please use caution!!

Audio below the cut

Fic inspired by the audio

Warnings: Pure smut, Legal age Alchohol use, Reader and Wooyoung are both a little drunk,Established dynamic, Extremely possessive Wooyoung, No protection, Little bit of dirty talk, Wooyoung is a bit rough with reader, Mirror Sex

Prompt: Wooyoung is jealous after seeing some of his frat bros flirting with you at a house party and reminds you just who owns you in the upstairs bathroom.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Wooyoung watches from across the crowded living room as you giggle behind your hand at his housemates crowding you, your cheeks turning pink at their compliments and jokes towards you. Yunho and Mingi were already drunk and doing the most to make you laugh, towering over you since you were sat down, occupying a space on the couch next to your friends.

Bastards.

Wooyoung thinks. Those idiots thought that he hadn’t noticed them using their heights to always subtly get a look down your shirt when he brought you around.

He observes the scene for a few more moments, flicking his eyes over your face before moving down to the clingy fabric of your tank top. The base of your neck was darkening with a blush that was slowly spreading over your chest, signaling that you were already a few shots in.

Fuck. She’s making me hard.

He downs his drink in one go, crumpling his red plastic cup in one hand before tossing it aside. His eyes turn dark and dangerous before walking over and yanking your hand to drag you away from his frat brothers, ignoring their protests to lead you up the stairs and into the nearest bathroom, slamming the door behind you. He briefly pauses to lock the door and then barely gives you a chance to think before he pulls you forward to kiss him. Your eyes flutter closed in pleasure, the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in your head intensified by the feeling of his tongue licking into your mouth. You press your own tongue back against his, eliciting a groan from him. Suddenly he’s pulling away, and he spins you around toward the sink so that you are both facing the large bathroom mirror. Your core pulses at the sight of him behind you, trapping you against the counter. His hands move down in between your bodies and you feel him unzipping his jeans and pushing them down a little past the tops of his thighs.

“You like the attention you’re getting downstairs?”

He asks, slightly bucking his hips forward, and you gasp at the feeling of his erection bumping against you, realizing he had pulled his boxers down as well.

“Your friends are just being nice”

You pout, inwardly thrilled at his show of jealousy.

“Yeah, cause they wanna fuck you. They’re a bunch of animals.”

He says blunty, grabbing your hips roughly and grinding into you more. He rests his chin down on your shoulder before turning his head and rubbing his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent greedily.

“Wooyoung!”

You gasp, embarrassed. He just lets out a short little laugh at your protest before biting down on your shoulder. God, every little thing he does to you sends pulses of heat right down to your pussy.

“Too bad for them, my cock is the only one you’re allowed to get fucked by”

He mumbles into your skin, and You’re starting to feel more drunk than you remember as Wooyoung starts to leave frantic wet kisses all over your exposed shoulders. One of his hands leaves your hips to reach around and drag up the front of your stomach before grabbing one of your breasts roughly.

You tip your head back and exhale shakily, catching a look at your own face in the mirror already looking completely fucked out.

Acting on instinct, you push your hips back against him and try to reach under your skirt to pull your panties down.

Wooyoung sees your intention and blocks you. He pushes you forward painfully into the counter, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades to force you to bend over, and your hands fly up to brace yourself, palms pressed flat against the cool glass of the mirror. He gives you no warning before yanking your skirt up over your ass , hooking his thumb into your panties to jerk them to the side. He takes a moment to line himself up with you before pushing himself fully inside of you in one motion.

You draw a hiss through your teeth at the sensation, the unexpected stretch of his twitching dick and the heat rolling off his body making your legs tremble. It’s a quick adjustment since you had already been wet for most of the night, since the second he had pulled you into a welcoming hug when you entered the party, the heady smell of his shampoo and cologne combined with his toothy grin immediately shooting sparks down to your belly.

"My dick feels good? Hm?"

He grunts, the front of his thighs pressed flush into your ass. He moves his own hips briefly in circles, just rubbing his dick around inside of you before pulling out slowly and snapping forward, beginning a rhythmic, fast pace.

"You love my dick right? You like being fucked by it?

He moans, and you can almost see that cocky expression on his face, daring you to say otherwise.

"N-Nn-nmmmm"

You mewl, clenching your fingers against the smooth glass of the mirror, screwing your eyes shut. Your body was already floaty from the tequila shots you had taken earlier with your friends, and now you felt like you could barely keep yourself upright the way the Wooyoung was fucking into you. You just wanted to let yourself get lost in the sensation of him stretching you, each thrust inside creating a friction that you need more and more of.

"Hmm? What?”

His sharp voice cut through the wet slaps of your bodies connecting, and the muffled bass of the party going on downstairs.

"Answer me, I said do you like it?"

He repeats sweetly, the snap of his hips getting harder, thrusting roughly into your core. He’s reckless in the way he’s pressing his fingers into the flesh of your hips, sending pulses of pain and pleasure racing down your spine.

You're currently being fucked too dumb to come up with words, only bouncing your head up and down loosely in a desperate nod, moaning loudly for him.

"You won't ever think about another cock, okay?"

He somehow increases his pace, bouncing you on his cock like his own little ragdoll. You're so weak that you feel like your arms will buckle, and you drop your head down the side to press your face into your arm. You feel so gone that all you can do is let guttural, pitchy moans bubble up from your chest. You close your eyes again and let your body take what he’s giving you.

“Ah-ahhhh-Y/N, fuck..”

You hear his voice grow tight, and he starts to grunt raggedly each time he thrusts into you, sounding nearly animalistic. His hips begin to stutter quickly and he leans forward, pressing his sweaty forehead into the back of your shoulder. The way that he's pounding into you is desperate, and you know that he's close.

"Fuck ...fuck!"

He whines, and you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, the sensation of being filled by him making you moan loudly. The wetness of your arousal and his seed mixing together slips down your inner thighs as he rides out his orgasm inside of you. You crack your eyes open to look in the mirror in front of you, flicking them upwards to watch Wooyoung's eyes squeezed tightly shut, his nose scrunched cutely and his plump lips falling open as he continues to hump you, trying dumbly to push his softening cock into you like it was the only thing in the world he was made for.

By the time he stops, you aren't sure how much time has gone by with you both just panting for air, your mind slowly de-hazing and focusing in on the hum of chatter and laughter floating up from below before Wooyoung disconnects himself from you with a slick pop.

“Oh!”

You gasp at the loss of sensation, and press your hips backwards, hoping in your dizzy state that he'll touch you more, your clit practically throbbing from need.

You hear him laugh sweetly at you before he reaches down to manhandle your asscheeks, kneading and spreading them apart roughly so he could watch his cum bubble and drip out of your pulsing hole. He moves his hand lower to position between your legs, running his fingers through your slick folds before delivering a harsh smack upwards to your throbbing clit, and you let out an involuntary sob, jolting forward.

“W-Woo…please, more”

You plead, desperate for your own orgasm.

"Wow.....look at you."

He breathes in response, tone adoring. You look up again to watch him behind you as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, darting his pink tongue out to lap your slick off of them, closing his eyes reverently.

"Look at you..."

He murmurs, his touch suddenly soft as he rubs a hand gently between your shoulder blades before snaking his arms around your waist to help you straighten back up, hugging you to his chest.

“My pretty girl. I’ll take care of you, let’s go back to your place, ok?”

He leaves a final soft kiss right behind your ear before releasing you. tugging his pants up above his hips and zipping them back up.

"Get cleaned up and say goodbye to your friends. Meet me at the door in 10 minutes."

He commands, before smoothly turning to unlock the bathroom door, slipping outside to leave you alone, still panting and frankly, still tipsy.

You look at yourself in the mirror, completely debauched and do your best to straighten up your hair and outfit. You can’t help but let a satisfied smile form on your lips.

Honestly, you could get used to making him a little jealous from now on.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A/N : I wrote this feverishly in one go, overcome with inspiration, drunk on soju and full of guilt for not finishing up my zodiac chart series just yet but!!!! it is what it is. Please take this and forgive me.

[0silver0dreams0]

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader

Summarised: (your name) died in a horrific way, but she has been reborn in a new world, where the body she is trapped in is (your name) Targaryen, daughter of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, who took her own life after the death of her dear sister Helaena, who was very close to her.

Warning: This story contains descriptions of sexual violence and vulgar language, a small change of ages of the characters to make more sense.

Author's note: English is not my first language, please let me know so I can correct them.

You just want to relax at least one second or two, maybe end that series or read that special book. Being at university was tough but it was even tougher having a job too in a bar, where if a man showed even a minor interest in you will go he would comein you direction, visibly drunk, smelly and disgusting putting money in your uniform and saying obscenities. Some would just go and leave you alone if you were lucky, but others would try to follow you or even try to touch you, but you always managed to get away and escape them. But is seems that this time, you didn't. Now you were pulled into a lonely alley, next to the trash, with an obviously drunk man, with ginger hair, horrible teeth and a foul smell he gave you a ten-dollar tip but now he was trying to take your clothes off. Fighting and fighting, that's the only thing you could do, and the worst of all you just DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. How to getting yourself out of this situation? He was stronger and bigger than you, he had already taken you underwear off under your skirt until he freed one hand to unzip his jeans, so you put your only free hand in his eye, pressing as hard you could and with rage.

"Ahh! bloody bitch!"

When he let you go, you ran as fast you could, but he grabbed your ankle, causing you to hit your head. You felt dizzy, numb, and you couldn't move your body. Plus your vision was lost; you could only see the little mark on the wall, a dragon with more than one head or at least you thought could see.

"Hey! Get up! I'm not playing! GET UP, BITCH!"

You just heard him, you wished, you really wished that you could get up, but you couldn't. You felt water around your head and neck, but you could see now, it was not water, it was blood, your blood. Now it was cold or at least it was for you, and it was catching you, cold, and colder you felt. that bastard haad gone already, leaving you there, alone, cold, and without underwear. Maybe is a good idea to take a nap, isn't it? Maybe in the morning everything will be better, just maybe.

When you wake up, you are in your crib, hungry, and alone, so you did the only thing you could: you cried.

"What is wrong now,dear?" A woman came up, your mother, "You are hungry, right?" your mother look at you with a soft smile, taking out her breast, she gently brushed your hair as you fed.

You are her little baby, her replica. She wasn’t going to use you like she did with your brothers; you would have freedom in this harsh world, she often thought about your future. But one thing was certain: you weren’t going anywhere from her side. Before she could think of anything else. She left you in your crib, your stomach already full. Even though her other sons wasn’t like you, she loved them. It’s just that you were like her—you have her hair, her nose, her cheeks, and even her smile. You only have your big purple eyes, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were another piece of her.

Even though she didn’t like to admit it, you were her favourite. And even if she never said it, it was obvious to everyone. She fed you herself; you didn’t have a wet nurse like your siblings. She knew that, apart from Rhaenyra, you were the second favourite of the king, her husband. And then there was your sister Helaena, always watching you with her curious eyes, who was only one year older than you. As for Aegon, well, he would always be Aegon—jealous of all the attention and love you received. Of course, he loved you, but why? Why did you receive so much attention and affection? He felt like he had to beg for even a little, as if he didn’t have a grain of love, as if he wasn’t special.

A while later that night, the doors opened, letting in your dear father, followed by someone behind him—your older sister, Rhaenyra. With a smile on his lips and without greeting anyone, not even his wife, he went straight to your crib.

"How is the little one? It seems she’s resting just fine," he said, touching your cheek lovingly. "Everything is fine; she just needs her space, Your Grace," Alicent responded, her voice tense. "She looks like you, but I can feel the dragon inside her," said Rhaenyra, gazing down at you beside her father. "Yes, but I really need the two of you to go. She’s already asleep, and I don’t want anyone disturbing her and—" before the Queen could finish, Rhaenyra interrupted. "We aren’t making any noise. Just five minutes won’t hurt, being by her side."

"Please, Alicent, she’s just a baby. She doesn’t need space; we can stay here with her," the King responded, a touch of obviousness in his voice. "As you command, Your Grace," Alicent replied.

The only thing Alicent could do in that moment was clench her fists behind her back and bite the inside of her cheek, merely watching as her husband and Rhaenyra hovered over your crib, oblivious to the tension and rage on her face. You stirred lightly in your sleep, unaware of the silent battle above you.

"You’ll see, my Queen, she’ll be like me—like a dragon, big and strong," Rhaenyra said softly, her voice filled with affection as she gazed at you.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her frustration growing with each word Rhaenyra spoke about you and herself. How dare she compare herself to my daughter? Alicent thought bitterly. And how dare they act as if they know what’s best for her? You were her child, and you would never be like Rhaenyra, bearing bastards and shaming the name and duty of your house.

"Yes, she’ll be strong. But now, let’s leave her to rest. It’s late, and we don’t want to wake her," the King said, turning to Alicent. "Thank you, my dear. You’ve done well."

Alicent bowed her head, the polite gesture hiding her fury. "Of course, Your Grace."

As they turned to leave, Alicent stood by your crib, just the two of you once more, her mind racing. She would protect you, no matter what. You were her baby.

The next morning Alicent was awaken by the maids, who prepare her for the day, when she came back in her room were you were before, your crib was empty. Scared call one of the maids

"Where's my daughter?!" She asked with anxiety and tension clear in his voice. "I'm not sure, my Queen. I'll find out right away."

While the maid was gone, Alicent’s anxiety grew. She rushed out of the room, determined to find her daughter. Who dared take her baby away from her protection?

She searched everywhere, her worry mounting with each passing moment. It wasn’t until she reached the garden that she finally saw you—her little baby girl—in the arms of Rhaenyra, walking through the garden with her illegitimate sons, as if nothing had happened,as if they had just stolen her baby.

"How dare you?!" Alicent's pace quickened as she moved to take you into her arms. Before she could reach you, Rhaenyra stepped aside, still carrying you, blocking Alicent’s path.

“We were just taking a walk. She looked so bored and alone in her room, so I thought it would be nice for her to get a little sun,” Rhaenyra explained, gently brushing the little bit of hair you had.

“She’s not yours to decide that! She is my dau—” Alicent began, but before she could continue, Viserys cut her off. “Alicent! Stop right now. She is my daughter too, and I think it’s a good idea that she spends time with her sister and nephews.”

Defedent Alicent just look the little smirk that Rhaenyra gave her. Rhaenyra triumphantly thanked her father, and walked away with you and her little toddlers.

How could she protect you when you had been taken from her side so easily? Why did no one listen to her about what she wanted for her baby? Why was everyone so ignorant?

While Rhaenyra was just happy, feeling she had won against Alicent for you, her little sister, she imagined everything would be better if you were her daughter, her little baby. But Alicent always seemed to step in the way. Soon, you and Rhaenyra would be inseparable. Perhaps you could marry one of her sons, and in that way, you would be with her forever. She envisioned herself as your mother, but ultimately, she would be your mother, no matter what—regardless of Alicent’s rants or even your brothers.

Pt. 2 >> (coming soon)

Author's note: (your name) doesn’t know what will happen to everyone or what will happen to her in the other world.

[syoddeye]

woke up possessed by the need to write soapgaz x reader smut. i have no excuses. ~1.6k, lightly edited.

cw: dubcon/noncon elements (reader is drunk), alcohol, public/semi-public sex, oral, surprise you're in a throuple

dating kyle, whose best friend soap keeps showing up on your dates. 

you try to make a fuss about it, tired of ruined movie nights and dinners. the insufferable bastard’s jokes are lewd, his eye contact too sharp, and he’s so damn touchy. always grabbing your and kyle’s knees, looping his arms around your necks, or sandwiching you in hugs that flatten either your chest to his or slot your ass to his pelvis.

the last straw is when soap spoils what was supposed to be a couple’s trip. he cards into your hotel room just as you’re about to give kyle a show. barges in with a big dumb grin on his face.

“what did i miss?”

you drag kyle into the bathroom and barely keep yourself from yelling. you demand he sends his friend packing. this is supposed to be a romantic getaway. kyle tries to soothe you, explaining that soap’s just going through a hard time.

“he needs us.”

“he needs a reality check.”

you storm through the room past a smiling soap, gather your clothes, and hastily dress. if kyle needs you, you’ll be at the hotel bar.

a couple of mai tais later, you’re still in a foul mood, but the edge is off. you’re worn down to a weary resignation that you’ll have to share this stupid holiday, thoughts clawing through the syrupy haze of rum and orgeat. kyle’s texted and asked you to return to the room twice, but you’ve ignored both. knowing he’ll probably come looking, you slip out to the beach with one last drink.

past sundown, it’s quiet. a few fires dot the shore, and you glimpse other couples. despite the sweetness in your mouth, your stomach twists into knots. if only you were so lucky. if only your boyfriend put his foot down. you’ll have to suffer through listening to soap snore on the room’s sofa instead of falling asleep thoroughly fucked.

you plop down away from the hotel and drain your cocktail until it’s half-full, stabbing aggressively at its garnish with the little straw.

the ocean hides their footsteps until they’re upon you, and you nearly drop your drink when two bodies bracket yours.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding and pouting.”

you instinctively tuck into kyle. despite being pissed at him, the vulnerable, tipsy part of you seeks his comfort. “i’m not hiding or pouting.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “no? then why’d you run off earlier?”

“i was mad, i’m still mad.”

kyle runs his hand from your knee to your thigh and toys with the hem of your shirt. “why’re you mad?”

“soap, he’s—“you hiccup and turn your face against kyle’s chest just enough to see the other man. soap’s smirking, eyes half-lidded. “he’s going to take you from me.”

they say alcohol loosens your tongue and encourages the truth. and there it is, your awful secret. your real fear, dangling out in the air for both of them to see.

a beat passes, and you hide your face again. you feel kyle’s laughter before you hear it.

“oh, babe. you’ve got it all wrong,” he squeezes you and kisses your temple. “soap, why don’t you show her how wrong she is?”

“aye, with pleasure.”

the scot shifts, and you realize it’s not kyle’s hand toying with your shirt. soap glides a palm up your side, pushing the fabric with it, and cups a tit before finding your lips in a hungry kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, greedily sipping the whines he cajoles out of you.

you’re dimly aware of kyle plucking your glass from your hands, too distracted by the fact your not-boyfriend is leaning you backward. the back of your head is cushioned by sand, nipple hardening as soap brushes his thumb over the cup of your bra.

they make short order of pushing your shirt up and pulling your tits out. your shorts are dealt with, your panties left in place for the moment.

“stay still, babe,” kyle whispers as you surface from the onslaught of soap’s kisses. soap lifts your head carefully so you can watch your boyfriend kneel beside you. he holds your cocktail up and then carefully tilts the glass until a few drops splatter across your stomach. you squeak from the cold and squirm, but soap holds you in place.

the look in kyle’s eyes is pure sin as he dips down to chase after the streams of liquor, tongue blazing over your skin. it dips into your navel, fishing a reluctant giggle out of you, then continues south.

he pauses to ruck off his shirt, then lifts your hips to carefully guide it beneath your lower half. he pinches the swell of your ass.

“you’ve been so good, babe. so patient. you’re learning, aren’t you?” he asks, licking his lips as soap moves to kneel at your head. “soap isn’t here for just me, is he?”

your eyes roll blearily in their sockets to find the man in question staring down at you. the heat in his eyes setting off more sparks in your belly.

“n-no.”

kyle beams and curls his fingers in the elastic.

“no. he wants both of us. isn’t that nice?”

you nod stiffly, eyes fixed on your underwear as he pulls them to your ankles. you should be embarrassed. humiliated, to have a man who isn’t your boyfriend see you like this. but alcohol and desire blur together, and you raise your hips with a tiny noise. a word. “please.”

“needy girl. i’m gonna make you feel good, babe. but if i’m gonna do that, i need you to make him feel good, yeah?”

soap’s fingers leave your tit to stroke the side of your head, gently nudging your face toward him. you’re met with the sight of his cock straining against his shorts, his free hand palming it slowly.

you glance up and realize this is the quietest he’s ever been. he’s always loud and boisterous. annoying when he invades your space. now he’s dead silent, save for the deep breaths from his nostrils. blue eyes narrowed in a predatory stare.

in an instant, you know. all this time, he’s been trying to run you down. wear away your resistance. get you accustomed to his near-constant presence. and apparently, he’s tired of waiting, wielding your boyfriend against you to sweeten you to some sort of package deal.

you should scream. tell both of them to piss off. instead, you slowly reach for the waistband of soap’s shorts, and help tug them down.

the alcohol coursing through your system makes you sluggish and clumsy, but soap does most of the work anyway. his cock languidly glides over your tongue and into your throat, erasing sugar with salt—the lines of your relationship along with it.

kyle’s tongue and fingers coax you into a state of euphoria, vision wet and glassine at the edges. you don’t think you could run away even if you wanted to. your legs are jelly, body pliant as hands grope at their leisure. kyle shushes you when you wiggle at the sound of distant voices, silencing you with a third finger and the seal of his mouth on your clit.

the muscles of your legs start to shake and tighten, pussy clenching around kyle’s fingers as he curves them inside. his mouth is sloppy over your cunt, partly due to how you writhe on his shirt. 

“christ, i’m close.” soap grits out overhead, his thrusts into your mouth becoming more erratic.

kyle unlatches his lips, “she is too.”

soap chuckles and pats your cheek, meeting your eye with a coo. “this’ll be special, pet. you an’ me at the same time, aye?”

a garbled moan around soap’s cock makes him jerk and curse, prompting his big hands to cradle your jaw. angling you with surprising gentleness to continue. you gag as he slips in too deep, too eager, but your attention’s split between needing oxygen and needing to come. kyle hasn’t let up, fucking you on his hand and groaning at the wet, sticky squelch cutting through the sound of the waves.

you come first with a gurgled shout, eyes rolling back in your head as you spasm and kick fruitlessly in the sand. soap’s a quick second, giving you a half-second warning before shooting thick ropes into your throat. kyle’s tongue laps at your folds as you swallow, both sensations overwhelming you to the point of tears. soap tucks himself away, and you hear him tut.

“gie it a rest. she’s still got to ride you back in the room.”

kye laughs breathlessly and crawls over you. “still with us?” he smirks at the delirious nod you manage. “good girl. need help standing?”

you let them dress you and haul you to your feet. the world’s gone wobbly, and you list heavily against kyle. your arms are also negotiated around soap, slotting you firmly between them. kyle’s shirt hangs into a pocket, soaked, and with every step back toward the hotel, clarity and embarrassment steamroll you.

“i can’t—this was a mistake.” you hiss, though the three of you know your words don’t carry the weight you want them to.

kyle plants a kiss on your cheek. you smell yourself on his face. “we’ll see if you feel different in the morning.” 

“aye. probably just have sand where the sun don’t shine. i’ll personally see to—”

with your waning lucidity, your elbow finds his ribs in a harsh blow. he sputters and stumbles, almost releasing you from his hold, but not quite.

“jesus, our girl’s got some fire, garrick.”

“tried to warn you.”

you mutter something mean, setting the men off into titters of laughter, and try to ignore the flicker of warmth at our girl.

[harstyle]

… I think I love you

Summary: you definitely like Harry, and he may like you, but your insecurities might be preventing you from ever finding out— featuring a friends-with-benefits situation, a heavy dose of self degradation and miscommunication between both characters.

Pairing: normie!reader x famous!harry

Warnings: there’s a lot of crying

Word-count: around 3.2k

a/n: this idea came to me when I saw this couple at a party yesterday and she was sitting in his lap and he was peppering kisses along her neck and I just love love, so here we go (obviously it wouldn’t be fun without at least a little angst tho). I did write this in like an hour and I didn‘t edit, so go easy on me :).

Harry was being weird.

He was touching her all over, pulling her to sit in his lap and peppering kisses along the expanse of her neck, all while keeping his arms circled around her waist. He was resting his chin on her shoulder, staying mostly quiet even though he usually always had something to say. He was stroking her skin, touching wherever he could get through to her winter clothing. He was ignoring all of the strange looks he was receiving from his friends, lips molding into a slight smirk against her skin as they spoke politics and gossip at the table.

Y/N had a horrible feeling in her stomach. It was unusual for Harry to show so much affection around their friends— the two of them had just agreed that their friends didn’t need to see so much of their arrangement. It wasn’t like they were dating, or better yet, in love, so keeping it to themselves seemed like the sensible thing to do. Don’t get her wrong; their friends knew about it, but Y/N and Harry mostly kept the physical aspects in the bedroom for no one to see. He surely had never been so blatant about it.

Her heart was pounding. To be fair, her heart always did that when Harry was around. Y/N had had a crush on Harry since she’d met him years ago, but back then she hadn’t thought she’d have much of a chance with him. Y/N had heard of him dating supermodels, rich girls with a ‘perfect figure’ and scandalous backgrounds and had always kept the idea of a relationship with Harry Styles far far away in the name of self preservation.

But then he’d kissed her.

He’d been drunk when he’d done it, but Y/N hadn’t cared in the slightest. When morning came, Harry had explained that he wasn’t looking for a relationship and that while he thought Y/N was wonderful, he didn’t want anything serious with her.

She’d remembered those words and lived religiously by them.

Only ever calling him when she really needed him, allowing him to knock on her door whenever he felt like fucking her, being okay with acting in the role of little play toy even though she’d always liked him.

And it wasn’t like their arrangement wasn’t mutual— it had started out that way, but it was slowly eroding her mind— exhausting her until all she did some nights was cry.

And even though Harry’s touch felt wonderful, and his confident display of affection had initially warmed her heart, all she wanted to do right now was cry. Cry because she was realizing, through all of this, that something like this was all she’d ever wanted. With Harry, without Harry— she’d been needing something real, and this wasn’t real. This was all pretend, a silly arrangement between two incompatible friends; one famous bastard and one delusional office job girl, his handsome face and her insecure mind.

She couldn’t handle being with him sometimes. She would open the door of her apartment, let her eyes trail over his features and doubt that he wanted to be there with her. It seemed so farfetched that he would want to fuck her, that he’d want to touch her body and kiss away her fears. She almost felt disgusted by it, by his touch, knowing that he’d touched other, better women— and many of them.

She always made him turn the lights off.

So there was no doubt that he was drunk out of his mind right now. Because why else would inform their whole friend group— not just select friends, their whole group which consisted of some mere acquaintances, of their relationship. Situationship. Whatever it had blossomed into.

Harry’s hand was burning against her stomach and she couldn’t do it anymore. She excused herself quietly to the bathroom. Y/N knew Harry’s house like the back of her hand, so she found it rather easily and walked inside. She didn’t lock the door, just washed her hands. Over, and over, and over again. She washed away all of her horrible, degrading thoughts and tried to drown out the mean voices.

You are your own worst enemy.

The knock she heard on the door was loud, but it didn’t interrupt her train of thoughts. She kept her mind on his hands, his wonderful hands, on her disgusting skin. She wanted to wash away the pain.

She could see Harry out of her periphery. She went back to the soap dispenser.

“You okay?”

Her hands became rougher with it as his voice invaded on her privacy. Her eyes became glossy as she turned on the water again. There was no doubt in her mind that Harry was watching her every move, but she didn’t really care about that.

“Y/N, turn the water off.”

She did it almost instantaneously, like she’d been needing somebody other than herself to tell her to do it because her mind wasn’t strong enough to convince her of it on its own. Harry grabbed a towel, slowly drying her hands and massaging them until they were warm and dry again.

He was staring at her, but she didn’t care if she looked strange to him now. She was strange. She’d always felt like she was faking around Harry— like she needed to be a certain version of herself in order for him to like her, and so there was this wall of pretentiousness that came with being around him.

Sometimes she wasn’t perfect or sensible, sometimes she wanted to wash her hands like a lunatic and cry all the while doing it, so he needed to finally see that. See the pain he was causing her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes trailing over her features delicately.

“Nothing,” she answered with her gaze on her hands, which were still in the towel.

“Do you want me to kick them out?”

“No,” she shook her head quickly, very decisive in her answer. “Don’t kick them out.”

It was a weird concept anyway, kicking his own friends out so he could… what, comfort her out of whatever state she’d landed in?

He took her hands delicately and interlaced them with his, throwing the towel onto the floor somewhere. She watched as it fell, as her hands found their new home in his, and finally looked up to see Harry already looking at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, almost furious.

“Like what?” He had this innocent glint in his eye, void of any bad intentions and almost oblivious to her anger.

“Like you want to kiss me.”

“I do want to kiss you,” he smiled. Then he squeezed her hands, “can I?”

Y/N had never really learned how to say no, so with her silence, but also her body inching closer to his, came the approval he was looking for. He anchored a hand onto her jaw, allowing his lips to linger on hers with a solid grasp.

Her eyes fluttered shut, the tears forming in them finally released.

Y/N deepened it, trying to latch into him even more to make these feelings go away, convince herself that everything would be fine as long as Harry was actually kissing her, but the ill feeling in her stomach worsened.

She broke away from him, pressing her forehead to his chin, and shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He was still smiling. “What?”

Panic had risen in her chest, but she still wanted to go through with this.

“I want to end this.” This because she had no idea what they were.

Harry’s eyebrows drew together in concern but when he let his hands rest on her waist, she pulled away. “I can’t. I don’t want this anymore.”

“You mean— what, you mean us?”

She nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“Why… I mean, what… since when have you—“

“Weeks, I think. I need time alone, away from you. I can’t… I want something more than this.”

He pulled away, “oh.”

“Not with you!“ she rushed to say, later realizing that it had sounded a bit offensive when he frowned in response, “but I’m getting older and I need to feel like I’m going somewhere with my life, you know? Can’t just keep being somebody’s fuck buddy.”

The words tasted sour on her tongue.

“Oh,” he said again, and it drove her crazy. Why couldn’t he just say something other than that?

He was so enigmatic that it was hard to say goodbye to him, but she had to. She had to cut ties, at least for a little, so she could recover and find somebody who didn’t make her feel bad about herself, but also did everything else exactly the way Harry did them.

“Alright, if that’s what you want,” he nodded. It was robotic, his face stoic.

There was no fight in him— she didn’t know whether she was delighted or angered by it.

She was staring at him like she wanted to memorize every curve of his mouth, his nose, the exact shade of his irises. She knew this was the end, their demise, and if she never got to be close with him again, maybe it would be fine if she could look back and remember everything about him.

Y/N left Harry in that bathroom and headed straight home.

—

Y/N hadn’t seen any of her friends in a month. Her time had been overwhelmed with work and therapy, days spent at home crying because the lack of a romantic future in her life had finally sunk in. She was broken. She was hurt and ruined, and it had all really been her fault.

But she wanted to get out again. She wanted to see her friends and let her lips curl into a relieved smile at the sight of them goofing around drunk, or making jokes about how hellish it was to be alive.

She’d gone over the possibility of running into Harry and decided it would be fine, that she’d taken enough time away to cope with seeing him again.

He arrived at Sarah’s house at 10 pm, a glass of wine latched onto his glove-covered hand. Y/N watched from the kitchen as he gave her a hug, toed off his shoes and caught her eyes. He tried to smile, as did she, and raised his arm in a wave. Y/N nodded in acknowledgement, beginning to play with the bottle of beer in her hands. She was nervous. She was broken.

Her friends had seen it, of course, the exchange, but they stayed quiet. Neither of them had spoken about their falling out, but their scattered separate arrivals at house gatherings as well as her loud absence from the last few ones had confirmed things further.

She’d tried to avoid him, but Sarah’s house wasn’t as big as Harry’s. There was less space and everywhere she was, Harry couldn’t be more than a few feet away. There was a magnetic force that she was trying to ignore, as well as the pained looks he would be so blatant about.

Once things had quieted down, and the group had left to scatter in small gatherings around the fire place, on the couch, outside on the patio, Y/N felt it the best opportunity to sneak into the corridor where no one was around.

Well, no one but him. He always seemed to find her.

“I went on a date last week.”

Y/N sighed, “you’ve gotta stop following me around—“

“Because I hadn’t, you know,” he said, voice cracking and hand tightening around his glass, “I hadn’t been on one in months. Ever since we started, actually. Never thought it was necessary, or that I wanted to. But then you left, and I thought about what you said, and I really wanted to date. So I went to the bar, you know? I went to the bar and I… I saw this girl, and she was beautiful. She had long, wavy hair and she wore these really cute glasses, you know? Like, these brown tortoiseshell glasses similar to the ones you wear sometimes, and I fell in love with those glasses. Just fucking… couldn’t stop staring at them. I was thinking about you and about the night you left and I…” the words seemed to get lost somewhere in his throat, but he had this look on his face that mirrored painful confusion.

“Harry—“

“I want you to know that that was a really fucked up thing to do.”

That was it. After that, he left. He faced the other way and walked away from her. It wasn’t until he reached the door and opened it that she started following him.

“No!” She protested, “no, you don’t get to say that and walk away from me, you dick. You were the one who… who— just, you hurt me!”

That seemed to irk him (she’d wanted it to) because he turned again, stepping so close that she started backtracking, “I hurt you? I hurt you? You were the one who left!”

“Because you’re confusing as fuck!”

“What do you even—“ he shook his head, “you’re fucking quiet. You never tell me what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling and all at once, you burst at me. You never… you never say anything.”

“That’s what you wanted, Harry, so don’t tell me it’s only me when it was always about sex. You wanted the arrangement, you wanted booty calls, you wanted—“

“I wanted you to be you! The way you were when we were friends— so I tried to get you to open up, get closer to you, but you would never let me!”

Y/N was sure their friends could hear them from the living room, but she couldn’t find it in her to worry. “Why let myself get hurt when all this was was some stupid way to pass time? Cause that’s all it was, right? You call me, I call you— that’s fine, but it’s not worth exposing my secrets for.”

“Right, well I was under the impression things were going better but fine, if that’s what you think.”

She tutted. “Don’t do that. You told me you didn’t date, that we couldn’t start anything more and I never pushed you. I did exactly as you said.”

He blew out a breath, “things change.”

“I don’t know if you did, honestly.”

“I did.”

“You did?” She challenged, knowing it would blow up in her face. “What changed? Tell me exactly what changed, because it all felt the same to me! But I don’t know, maybe I missed your devastating declaration of love, or maybe I—“

“Alright, I love you, okay?” He was gripping his face in frustration, not nearly confident enough to look her in the eyes. In a more controlled tone, he repeated himself. “I love you.”

She scoffed. Out loud. It was followed by a laugh too, her scoff, and it reverberated through the room. Then she shook her head, and she couldn’t believe the audacity of him.

“Right, okay.”

He gave a sigh, tired. “Stop invalidating my feelings.”

His voice harbored just enough vulnerability for her to feel for him.

“You’re insecure about us, I get it. You were hurt, I understand. I didn’t want more when you did, I understand that too— but you weren’t the only one who got hurt in the end. It may have started out as a simple arrangement, but you know damn well things started changing months ago. I was showing you different sides of myself so that you would show the other, imperfect sides of you, but you never compromised with me. You wanted me to turn the lights off. You don’t even believe me when I say that I love you! Do you get how devastating it feels to tell someone that you love them and not only do they not feel the same way, they don’t even believe you could be capable of it?”

And she… she didn’t know what to say after that.

He was right, she supposed. She hadn’t considered his feelings in the matter.

“I do love you. I do. But if you think we’re a joke and we were never even real anyway, then fine.”

He’d started to distance himself, taking a few steps backwards from where she stood. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t want him to think she was trying to play victim— it was just what she did whenever she felt overwhelmed.

Y/N let him leave. Let him open the door and walk out, back to their friends, as she stood there alone. He was walking away from her.

And once the door closed, she burst into tears.

Her insecurities were mean, they were heavy on every part of her being right now.

She faced the front door leading outside and cried, trying to be as quiet as she could so nobody would hear her.

He did, though, or at least he had a feeling she was crying because he came back shortly after, almost like he’d been stood just outside regretting ever leaving. She could almost picture it, the door closing, their friends staring back at him with questioning glances— how he may have shut his eyes and released a deep breath before readying himself to get swallowed whole by the dramatics of it all over again. She was facing away from him, but her shoulders trembled in fear and he could kind of see her through the reflection of the door.

“Y/N.”

She shook her head.

“Y/N, turn around.” When she didn’t comply, Harry pulled her to the front of his chest, hesitant at first but becoming more confident as he felt her relax. His mouth was near her ear as he whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry.”

“Don’t, I’ve been horrible to you. And stupid.“

He shook his head. “It’s both of our faults.”

“I just… I always thought you wouldn’t like me as anything more than what we were and I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know,” he shushed her, pressing his lips to the side of her head and letting them linger there. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He coaxed her around, never letting go.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

She sniffled, “I forgive you.”

He chuckled against her forehead, his chest heaving against hers. Her lips were curling into a small smile as well. She couldn’t help but mirror him.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I didn’t mean to… you know, say it like that in the middle of an argument. Shouldn’t have done that.”

She thought for a moment before settling on a subtle shrug. “Think I do though.”

He laughed, “you think?”

She moved to rest her chin on his chest, a glint in her wet eyes as she spoke, “if I say I know, will you date me for real?” She still sounded nervous.

His grin was wide. “I don’t know, don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for dating? I mean, I just told you I love you.”

The delight that sparked in her was all he’d been looking for. “I wouldn’t be surprised with how anti-relationships you are.”

Harry pinched her bum, rolling his eyes. “That was before I knew you think you may be in love me. Now I’m considering it.”

She looked extra cute because her eyes were still glossy and red, but she seemed happier, a smile completely molding her features. “Hm, well I guess I better know then.”

He leaned down enough to nudge her nose with his, “you probably should.”

“I love you,” she whispered, breath hitting his lips. “I know I do.”

He kissed her then, pulling her impossibly close. “Again,” he’d said, and she obeyed. He gave her two short kisses, mumbling, “again” over and over again until he had his fill.

He couldn’t resist the last finishing kiss, lasting just a few seconds longer than the other ones. “Let’s go home.”

—

the end!

[luvyeni]

SOMEONE FLIRTS WITH YOU 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre yandere 𖹭 warning — murder , mentions of blood, kidnapping , jays bar is complicit to so many murders parings enhypen hyung line x fem reader | back to library .

— what they do when someone flirts with you.

request: could u do enhypen legal line yandere reaction to another guy sexually flirting with u?

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i hope you like it !

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

he's gonna kill them, but he wants to see them suffer first , he kidnaps them; hides them in a warehouse he uses to kill , that can't be traced back to him either. he withholds food from the guy , then water slowly killing them , but not all he does , he also beats them. all while the person is begging to be freed , or killed after a few days of torture , to which he just smiled and continues his beatings. heeseung may even go as far as to free them from their restraints, letting them go and when they go running towards the exit , he fires his gun , one shot to the persons head and down they go.

next is to get rid of the body and quickly, so he can quickly get home to you.

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

jay owned the club where the creep harassed you, he saw it go down , so no one bats an eye when his men drag the man away from you , and all the way back to jays office , his office with the sound proof walls. the guy begging that he was sorry and he didn't even know you were taken. "pl-please i'm sorry i didn't know she had a boyfriend , I was drunk." jay rolled his eyes watching him lie. "does it matter if we weren't together? you still harassed a lady in my bar , this time it was my last you harassed." he said. "see any decent guy would've probably knocked you cold on to the ground , unfortunately you got me." he said. "and i'm not as decent." he gave them the words , before his men proceeded to beat the guy to death.

"someone go get my baby girl , clean this mess up when you're done."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

jake is emotionally unstable when it comes to you , so when he sees someone flirting with you , he goes into a blind rage , he doesn't remember following the guy into the bathroom of jays bar , all he remembers is tearfully bashing the guy's head in between the stall door , sobbing, not because he's upset at what he's doing but because he fully believes you're gonna leave him for this guy , that's why he has to kill him so he can't take you from him. "she's mine." he cries , blood is everywhere , jay is gonna be pissed at him for making such a mess , this one is gonna be hard to clean up , but he can't help it.

"she's mine and you're not gonna take her from me."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

kills them , sunghoon doesn't even wait , making sure no one sees him , it's jays bar so he knows there's no cameras , he follows the guy into the alley, hitting the bastard harassed you on the head with a bottle , pulling out a knife to cut his throat before the guy could even yell out for help , walking back into the bar , looking for you. "let's go." he grabbed your arm. "let's fucking go now." he drags you out the bar , he's not pissed at you for once but you don't know that and he doesn't want to let you know that.

"i handled it , but you won't be going out for a while , i'm not mad at you."

©LUVYENI

[zaldritzosrose]

Lose Control (Aegon x Niece!Reader)

Summary: Aegon knew it would never work. But did he care? Of course not. You were one of few members of his family who didn't look at him like he was a failure. Was it love? He didn't know. But he never felt whole without you.

(Based on Lose Control by Teddy Swims)

TW: She/Her pronouns, canon-typical incest (uncle x niece), afab reader, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 2,985

kēlītsos = little cat, kitten

I apologise now, but this isn't a 'happy' ending.

Something's got a hold of me lately. No, I don't know myself anymore.

You were off limits, Aegon knew that. The fact had been drilled into him by his mother time after time. His niece, the only one who looked at him with some modicum of love or affection. He didn’t know if you felt the same, but he could pretend every time you would smile at him, or your hands would linger against his just a moment longer than needed.

But how could he not want you? You were beautiful. He didn’t care about the rumours that surrounded your parentage. Those dark curls, eyes so brown they could be mistaken for black. All the things that people used to paint you a bastard, he found to be the most beautiful things in the world.

His thoughts were consumed by you, even when you weren’t around. Everything reminded him of you.  The more he thought of you, the more he remembered he couldn’t have you and the further he sank into his cups. 

The day you left for Dragonstone with your mother had broken him beyond belief. Wine and whores barely fill the void you left behind.

Feels like the walls are all closin' in. And the devil's knockin' at my door, whoa… Out of my mind, how many times. Did I tell you I'm no good at bein' alone?

Aegon stumbled back into his chambers. The third night this week that he’d spent drowning his sorrows in some dingy tavern. Word had come that your mother was returning to King’s Landing with you and your brothers. The petitions for the seat at Driftmark were to be heard, and your brother Lucerys’ claim was being questioned.

Aegon would see you again, and it terrified him. 

He was embarrassed of the kind of man he’d become in your absence. A drunk, chasing whatever skirt he could. Fear set in, knowing you’d see him like this.

The morning of your return had come, but Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed. He was a mess in so many ways. The scent of wine still lingered on his breath and skin from the night before. Sun streamed in through his window, and he quickly sunk back under his sheets.

But his peace was short lived, the door to his chambers slamming open and the harsh words of his mother filling the room. Aegon groaned, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time his mother would ever berate him this way. But he was in no mood for it.

The sound of her admonishments faded to muffled noise as Aegon tried to rub the sleep from his features. But his actions seemed to only antagonise her more. Heavy limbs rolled from his bed, gripping the sheet around his body as he stood.

His mother’s tirade stopped at his movement, her words faltering.

“I will not apologise, for it falls on deaf ears. Now if you don’t mind, I fear I require a bath.” 

Aegon grumbled, wanting nothing more than to escape Alicent’s harsh words.

He ignored anything else that came from her lips, walking away and towards his thankfully, already filled bath.

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

You didn’t want to be here. None of your memories of the Red Keep were particularly fond. Well, save for a few. The times spent with your uncle, Aegon, would always bring a smile to your face when you thought of them. When he would sneak to your chambers, cakes in hand, demanding you come to the gardens with him. Why?

Because he missed you.

Back then, you thought little of it, simply thinking your uncle was being kind, as an uncle should be. But when you think of those moments now? Heat filled your belly and a blush bloomed on your cheeks. The evenings spent curled up next to him beneath a tree in the royal gardens, lips sticky from the cakes he always brought, his arms wrapped tight around you and your head on his chest. Those moments had seemed so innocent then.

The reactions of your mother told you now, that they were not. The way your mother had demanded you stop sneaking out in the evenings with him – how spending time alone with any boy in such a way was unbecoming. 

But Aegon was the only one who didn’t tease you about your dark hair and eyes – you knew the rumours well enough. Instead, he told you how pretty you were. Comparing your eyes to embers and your hair to the finest chocolate. 

Now, you stood at Jace’s side, listening to your mother talk to some lord or another. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to sneak off to find Aegon.” Jace whispered, only earning an eye roll from you. Your brother was one of few aware of just how much time you had once spent with Aegon.

Luckily for you, he’d never told your mother. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, the moment she’d forbade you from spending time with your uncle, you had stopped. Instead, you had simply hidden your meetings better. Swearing your brother to secrecy when he caught you one night.

You ignored Jace’s comment because no answer you gave would keep that smirk off his face. Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, your mother turned and gave you and your brothers permission to spend some time to yourselves before the petitions. You didn’t miss the sideways glance Jace gave you as you hurried away.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

He was washed, dressed, the alcohol feeling like it was seeping out of his skin as he wandered through the corridors. He had no destination in mind, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his bed. But he also had no desire to listen to another of his mother’s verbal lashings against him . And even more so, he was terrified of seeing you.

Would you hate him as he is now? Would you be embarrassed of him?

Aegon was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him, his eyes trained solely on the stone floor before him. So, when he collided with the soft form of another person, he was knocked near off balance. As he scrambled to stay upright, he was greeted with a very familiar head of deep brown waves.

“Uncle?” 

Your voice. A voice he had imagined hearing time and time again for the past six years. But when you said his name, he finally met your gaze. The faintest of smiles finding his lips, while his eyes remained just a little glazed from the wine he’d already consumed.

You were here. You were here and you were as beautiful as ever. The deep red of your gown makes those warm curls even deeper in colour. It was only when he felt your hand on his arm that he realised he hadn’t spoken a word.

“Do I render you speechless still?” you smiled; your hand rested on his forearm.

“Always, kēlītsos.” He smiled, watching you blush at the name.

Kitten, so called for the way you always used to curl up next to him, safe under his arm. A sweet name that now had your cheeks hot. It was the way he said it, voice lower than you remembered. But you could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, and you now realised that the stories of his love of alcohol were true.

Six years had changed you both in more ways than one.

Problematic. Problem is I want your body like a fiend, like a bad habit. Bad habits hard to break when I'm with you.

Aegon hadn’t paid attention to a single word spoken during the petitions. He could care less about who inherited Driftmark. His eyes never left you. He didn’t care who saw him staring. He didn’t care if you saw him staring. Seeing you again had awoken every feeling for you he’d once had. And then some. 

He’d ignored his mother when she demanded he leave the wine alone. He couldn’t handle court sober, never mind having to stay away from you. Now, the room swayed just a little, but the fog on his brain was a welcome distraction from you.

The petitions had gone as well as expected – if seeing Lord Vaemond beheaded was expected. The whole family was on edge, but Aegon was comfortably in a wine induced calm.

So, when you walked in, arms linked with Jace, he had little control of the expression on his face. Disgust at the sight of you so close to your brother, a closeness that had once been reserved for only him. He filled his cup again, no amount of wine in the world would likely make him feel better now.

You sat in the only available seat, between Jace and Aegon. You tried to catch your uncle’s gaze, but he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you and it made you feel ever so slightly hurt. Had you done something to upset him?

Problematic. Problem is when I'm with you, I'm an addict.

The supper ended swiftly the moment your brother hit Aemond, provoked of course. The two princes had never been close. You stood with your mother; fists clenched as you watched Aegon pin Luke to the table. There was no love lost between the uncles and nephews, but seeing Aegon treat Luke that way infuriated you.

You stormed from the hall, ignoring the shout of your mother. It was only then that Aegon released Luke, shoving the boy away and drunkenly hurrying after you.

He’d fucked up and he knew it. 

He could hear the clack of your boots on the stones, and he knew where you’d be going. The gardens. Your haven, one you once shared with him.

“I don’t appreciate being followed, uncle.” you called out, stopping just short of the entrance to the garden. 

Aegon was quick to stop behind you, the wine making him unsteady. But he wasn’t going to miss this chance to have you alone.

“You are drunk, Aegon.” 

The accusation, while true, hurt coming from you. Embarrassment flooded him as he tried to find an excuse. But the words went silent on his tongue. He was drunk, yes, but not as drunk as you seemed to think he was.

“It is a common occurrence for you now, I hear. Wine and whores?” Your voice wasn’t as angry as he expected, but having you know such things about him made him sick.

“Nothing more than distractions for a life that is quite tedious.” Aegon replied, doing his best to hold your gaze, blue meeting brown for the first time truly in six years.

“And what makes your life so tedious, I am sure there are many who would revel in the life of a prince.” You answered, turning to continue your walk to the garden, knowing he would follow.

And follow he did, wanting nothing more now than to be in your presence. A presence he’d missed. A presence he’d craved for six years. Even if you seemed frustrated.

“You know exactly what…” he snapped back, the wine loosening his tongue just a little. There was a chance this would be the last time he’d see you, knowing the state of the family, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.

“Six years without you, kēlītsos, has been a very long time.” 

You stiffened at that. Was he blaming his problems on you? You stopped dead, turning on your heel to face him, watching as he stumbled when he stopped short of colliding with you.

“And you think it has been easy on me?” Your words came out quieter than you thought, your anger failing as you saw the sadness in his eyes, eyes that had once seemed so bright now seemed sallow and hollow.

“I did not want to leave. My home is here, with you.”

Aegon froze, chewing on the skin of his lip. Any anger he’d felt slipped away almost instantly. You hadn’t wanted to go. Those words sparked the smallest ember of hope in him. Maybe, just maybe, you felt as he did.

“I have spent every moment of those six years missing you.”

He heard nothing else, the wine in his belly fuelling his emotions beyond his control. His rough hands finding your cheeks, pulling you to him as he kissed you. The kiss was messy but reciprocated. Mere seconds passed before you curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him tight against you. A kiss filled with years of love, passion… and lust. Aegon’s hands moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing his body against yours as he backed you towards a nearby wall. Thankfully the gardens were quiet in the evenings.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, remembering quickly that Aegon had been drinking. As had you, but Aegon had consumed far more than you had.

“You are drunk, Aegon…” 

“Not so much that I am unable to think clearly.” He replied, wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.

His hands played with the fabric of your gown, keeping your body pinned between his and the wall. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Not without knowing if you felt as he had all this time.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will go.” He whispered, his forehead now resting against yours.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t because it would be easier down the line. Easier to lie and break his heart now than be truthful and have to leave him again. But you did. By the gods, you did. While you’d loved him for longer than you could remember, love was not on your mind at this moment.

“I want this…I want you. I always have.” Your breath fanned across his lips as you spoke, body inching closer on instinct. 

Aegon closed the distance, his kiss gentle though his hands now gripped your waist hard. The red fabric now fisted tight in his hands as he slipped his thigh between your own. Your body responded naturally, heat flooding you as his lips slid down to your jaw then your neck. He knew he couldn’t go so far as to take your virtue, but he needed something.

And I need some relief, my skin in your teeth. Can't see the forest through the trees. Got me down on my knees, darlin' please, oh…

Your breath hitched as he bunched your gown in his hands, fingers pressed against the fabric of your small clothes. A touch you’d only dreamt about. Wondering what it would feel like to have him touch you so intimately.

The reality had your mouth dry and your flesh searing. Hips canting to meet the deft movements of his fingers. His face buried in your neck as you sighed out in pleasure. You shouldn’t be doing this, and you knew it. All you could focus on was pleasure, not right and wrong. Your own hand soon found the hard length in the front of his breeches, palming him slowly.

Aegon wanted nothing more than to feel you. To commit those soft sounds to memory. To feel your skin on his.

“Aegon…” you breathed, your hands finding the mess of silver waves atop his head.

His name had never sounded so perfect, and he wanted to hear it again. His hands kept a grip on your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ignoring the confused glance you shot down to him. You soon had your answer when his nose brushed against the fabric of your small clothes, his hand gripping your thigh as he lifted it over his shoulder.

“What are you-“ your words fell silent as he mouthed at you through your undergarments, his name a moan falling from your lips.

Your hand found his hair again, wanting nothing more than for him to keep going. And when his fingers tugged the fabric aside, bearing your flesh to him, all sense was lost.

“So delicious, my sweet girl,” he cooed, licking a hot stripe between your folds.

No man had ever touched you this way, and you wanted no other man but Aegon to touch you this way again. A dream, of course, but one you wanted so desperately. And he lapped at you like a man starved, groaning against your skin at the taste of you, the sound enough to have pleasure shooting up your spine.

And soon the knot in your belly snapped, hands tightening in his hair as you panted his name. Aegon only stopped his ministrations when you pushed him away. With a final kiss to your inner thigh, he stood.

“You are mine, kēlītsos, and you always have been.”

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

Morning had come. You didn’t remember returning to Aegon’s chambers but that was where you woke. Wrapped in his arms and feeling safer than ever. It would not last. It never did. Shouts from outside the door told you that. And the door crashing open, revealing the furious face of your mother made it crystal clear to Aegon.

You were off limits. He knew that. He’d hoped it would change. But when morning came, the harsh words directed at you by your mother told you it never would. And his dreams become nightmares as you leave him again.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[xxsunoosprincess]

Enhypen’s Favorite Positions (OT6)

How Enhypen likes to fuck you.

pairings: Enhypen legal line x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fem!reader for Jay and Sunghoon, otherwise gender neutral!reader, light spanking, mentions of masturbation, overstim, and roughish sex.

Heeseung’s Favorite Position: Spooning

There is something so intimate about this position, it genuinely makes him feral. Beware anytime y’all are spooning. It doesn’t matter if it’s on the couch, the bed, hell, even during movie night with his band mates: the moment he has your ass pressed back against him he is bricked up. Maybe it’s the size difference? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that during those late nights on tour when he’s is alone in his hotel room, his mind immediately goes to wrapping his arm around your waist as he drives his cock into you from behind!! <3

Jay’s Favorite Position: Lotus

You guys never intentionally end up in this position, but more often than not, it makes its appearance in your night. Pulled into his lap, you can feel his thick cock so so deep! As soon as you throw your head back in pleasure, he’s mouthing at your tits. Sucking, biting, groping, all of the above… you can hardly fault him for the way his hips jerk up and he forces himself deeper. Boob lover Jay agenda in full force. He just loves seeing your face contort in pleasure, so this is perfect for my little romantic.

Jake’s Favorite Position: Reverse Cowgirl

Has Jake ever seen a more beautiful sight than your ass bouncing on his lap? No. Literally never. Doesn’t matter how often he sees it, he lets out a pleased sigh every time. Reclined back against the headboard, hands behind his head. This must be paradise. He loves seeing the handprints he leaves behind on your cheeks. And he’s just so loud! Moaning and whining… ugh how dreamy. He tries to be gentle, he really does, but he can only let you take charge for so long before things take their inevitable course. Rough grip on your waist as he fucks up into you, letting out those pretty moans all the while.

Sunghoon’s Favorite Position: Missionary

I am here to take down the rough dom Sunghoon agenda. This bastard is so soft for you it isn’t funny. Expect tender touches to your face, deep kissing, and some dirty praise while he bullies his cock into you. “Sweet girl takes me so well” type mfer. I’m sure of it. I really do think he is another romantic… still exploring himself and a little shy about it >_< !! He gets a little flustered when you mention try to talk about your sex life with him so be gentle… doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lay the best pipe of your life. I know this might be a controversial take but it’s MY TRUTH.

Sunoo’s Favorite Position: Mating Press

I think Sunoo is another one that is really soft and tender during sex. It’s the skin-to-skin contact, the sloppy kisses, and dry humping that screams “I want you so so bad!!” that gets his cock filling out in his pants (He has the prettiest cock ever but that’s a story for another time). That’s why I chose a mating press for him… when he is rutting into you and you wrap your legs around his waist or he has you near folded in half he has to fight cumming instantly.

Jungwon’s Favorite Position: Cowgirl

Hehehehe this made me smile. Just imagine him squirming and whimpering as you ride him. Actual art. So whiny and needy. Tells you how much he loves you over and over as he moves his hips with yours. Be gentle because he gets pussy drunk soooo easily. Mind goes blank and probably overstimulates both of you until you are both in tears. Loves when you lay on top of him as you catch your breath together, loves taking care of you. Declaring him the king of aftercare.

END.

Author’s note: Just a short lil thing to test formatting on mobile! Hope y’all enjoy. xx - princess