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scribendis · 10 months

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𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚

Daemon Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, profanity, these two are SO horny, dirty talk, p in v sex, size kink ish, breeding kink ish, just a little bit of throat grabbing Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~5,100

Summary: Mere months after their wedding, Daemon left his young bride to join the War in the Stepstones. His victory and subsequent return to King's Landing three years later meant that his wife would never spend another night alone in their bed.

A/N: I hope all my Daemon girls out there enjoy! This one's dedicated to you! Also, this is barely proofread and not beta'd. Lordy help me. Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link | Wattpad link

Mini HV glossary for ~future reference: ābrazȳrītsos - little wife ñuha dōna - my sweet issa - yes

Prince Daemon Targaryen had not been her father’s first choice of husband for her. It had, in fact, been the lord’s intention to marry her - his youngest child and only daughter - to King Viserys following the death of his queen. The prospect of such an arrangement brought her immense pride, for her house would benefit greatly from the wealth and status that would follow. But, by the time their wheelhouse finally passed through the gates of King’s Landing, the marriage between the king and Lady Alicent Hightower had already been set in stone.

The king had thus suggested that she wed his younger brother instead, a prospect that her lord father balked at at first. Prince Daemon’s reputation certainly preceded him. No man called the “Rogue” anything had any right to take his precious daughter to wife. But when the Rogue Prince placed a wreath of flowers on her head and proclaimed her the Queen of Love and Beauty upon winning the tourney held in celebration of the king’s wedding, her betrothal to him was all but assured.

She allowed herself to be wooed by him and his devilish smile, feeling herself falling harder and harder for him each time she caught his gaze from across rooms and banquet tables. There could be one hundred people between them and their eyes would always seem to find one another. His, more often than not, studied far more than her pretty face, trailing downward to her ample breasts or the curve of her waist.

She had been told that Daemon was no great lover of dancing, but he offered his hand to her during every occasion that had musicians in attendance. And that hand found itself, more often than not, wandering dangerously past her hips as they moved about the dance floor. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that the prince would fuck his fist each night afterward at the thought of the places his hands had touched and what they might look like once he tore her clothes from her body.

It was no wonder, then, that Daemon made certain that she fulfilled her wifely duties as soon as they were wed. He was barely able to make it through their wedding feast without whisking her away to finally claim her. But that night, he ensured that the entire Red Keep knew exactly whose wife she was.

In those first days of their marriage, she felt that she hardly left their marriage bed. When her presence was required at court, she walked with such an ache in her thighs and between her legs that she wished she could lounge about in bed all day. Each morning, without fail, their shared chambers still held the warm, musky scent of their coupling from the night before. It lingered on the sheets and on her skin throughout the day, only encouraging her husband’s desires further once he returned to her side.

But their time together, it turned out, would be short lived. She and Daemon had hardly been married for three moons before Lord Corlys Velaryon’s invitation to join his house in the War for the Stepstones brought him hundreds of leagues away from her. Daemon could not refuse, for the potential glory of battle - his greatest chance to prove his worth to the realm - was a far more alluring prize than even his beautiful new wife. The kiss goodbye he gave her before climbing on the back of his dragon tasted bitter on her tongue.

She did not see her lord husband for three years. Life at court became a lonely thing. She was without children to care for or a husband to tend to. What she had was a husband whose actions in the Stepstones seemed to ripple all the way back to the Red Keep. To her. Slowly but surely, she watched her image deteriorate from that of a prince’s wife to that of a social pariah. How ashamed she must have been of her husband, the other ladies would whisper when they thought she was not listening - and, sometimes, when they knew that she was.

Their shunning of her only worsened as news continued to trickle in about the rising victory of the Triarchy. She would sometimes linger outside of the Small Council chambers and trail after Ser Tyland Lannister in search of any information he had regarding her husband. Toward the end of the war, none of his news was good. She had come to accept that she would awake any day now a widow at the tender age of one and twenty.

Until the morning that her maidservant burst through her door and all but shook her awake, uttering what, to her, was a garbled mess of words in her half-asleep state. But she did process enough to know one thing: Daemon had been spotted returning to King’s Landing.

She rarely wore the colors of her husband’s house, opting instead for her own house colors. But today, as she followed the crowd into the throne room, she wore a striking dress of blood red the same hue as her husband’s dragon, Caraxes, and a necklace of rubies to match. Today, she was once again a Targaryen bride.

She caught the eyes of some of the women who had spent the last three years lambasting her for her husband’s deeds. For his failures. She barely regarded them as she pushed past, her head held high and a smirk painting her lips. But, briefly catching the shocked look on Lord Beesbury’s wife, which somehow made the old woman look even more like a pigeon than she already did, she felt validation run warm through her veins. This would stop their wagging tongues.

In her place near the front of the throne room, she and everyone else watched Daemon approach the king. She had hoped but not suspected that he would find her among the crowd, so when his eyes flickered to her for a fleeting moment, she felt warmth radiate down her entire spine.

Though he had looked away to address his brother, she did not take her eyes off of him for even a second. His silvery-blonde hair, now cut short, gave her an admirable view of his face and neck. Though obviously kissed by the sun, his skin also bore other changes. Forehead creases and other new wrinkles, likely from frowning or stress or both. A mottled, pink scar painted the right side of his neck and disappeared below his armor. She dreaded to think about just how far it went and how many others lay beneath his clothes.

Truthfully, their time together before his departure had been so brief that she could not quite put her finger on all of the ways in which the war had changed him physically. From where he stood, the light pouring in from one of the high windows behind him highlighted a small scar just beside his right eyebrow. Did he have that before? She could not remember just now.

There would be plenty of time for her to relearn her husband’s body anew, just as he would hers. She did not realize how lonely a place the marriage bed could be with her husband so far away for so long. All she could hope was that he would still find her pleasing after their years apart.

Their reunion, it seemed, would have to wait, for the king was eager to whisk Daemon away from the eyes of the court following his return. Her disappointment meant little when measured against the wishes of the king, even though the ache in her heart felt all too real as she watched the brothers ascend the steps out of the throne room.

She fielded several congratulatory remarks and other words of praise for her husband from those around her - the very same individuals who had spent years speaking naught but ill about him, whether to her face or behind her back. But she had known all along that Daemon would prove them wrong.

The dispersing crowd soon filtered out of the throne room, with some individuals most assuredly sharing whispered words of gossip with their neighbors and others simply wondering when the celebratory feast would be held. She was one of the last to exit the room, a dizzying mixture of anticipation, relief, and disappointment churning in her stomach.

So when a hand caught her by the throat and another by her upper arm as she ascended the stone steps into the hallway, she was taken completely by surprise. She hardly had time to let out a frightened gasp before a familiar voice breathed into her ear.

“Will you not welcome the prince home from war, my lady?”

Her fear washed off of her just as quickly as it had come. Heaving a sigh, she smiled. “Daemon.”

He turned her on the spot so they were face to face, his hand moving to hold her by the nape of her neck so she could not pull away. But she would not have done so even if he had not held her in such a way.

“Gods, you scared me,” she continued. If he could only feel the way her heart was racing in her breast at his little stunt.

His bottom lip stuck out in a feigned pout. “And here I thought my dear wife would be excited to see me.” He placed his forefinger beneath her chin to tilt her face upward, his violet eyes studying the planes of her face as though he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“She is.”

A satisfied grin tugged at Daemon’s lips at the warmth of her remark, though he did not release her from his embrace. Rather, he pulled her closer and leaned down to claim her lips for the first time since his departure. To kiss him felt so familiar, yet also like a distant dream of a time long past. He allowed his lips to linger, savoring the moment as though they did not have dozens of onlookers watching them.

“Should you not be with the king?” she murmured against his lips but felt him smirk.

“I have had to look at my brother’s ugly face since before I can remember,” Daemon replied, running his hand down the length of her spine until it came to rest in the small of her back. “I would rather have a moment alone with my pretty wife.”

That he had forgotten her or, at least, his burgeoning feelings for her during his years in the Stepstones had been a great worry of hers. He had been all too enthusiastic to leave her side and partake in the war to begin with. She often thought that, should he return one day, the two of them would be no more than strangers to one another. That whatever spark that had ignited between them in the early days of their marriage would have long since burned out.

But she recognized the look in his eyes as they roamed her face and continued downward, along the exposed line of her collarbone and shoulders before going even further. They ravaged her form as they had on all those evenings both before and after they were wed. He was entranced by the way her crimson gown enhanced her womanly shape. No doubt, he was toying with the thought of tearing it from her body right here and now, and reclaiming what was his for the entire court to see.

The mere prospect of such an act sent heat rushing through her lower stomach that pooled between her legs. She hadn’t worn her smallclothes beneath her gown today, remembering how tedious her husband had always found the extra barrier to be. He would have discovered that, if only he would have taken her by the hand and led her to their quarters.

“You heard what I told my brother,” Daemon continued, his breath feather soft and warm on her cheek. “About the title they bestowed upon me in the Stepstones.”

“King of the Narrow Sea,” she whispered, feeling her mouth go dry as she watched the violet of his eyes become consumed by black. “But… you gave your crown to His Grace.”

Daemon clicked his tongue as he would in disappointment at a child. “Would my wife not have me be her king?”

Gods, she began to ache with need at such a question. She knew he noticed every flutter of her eyelashes, every rise and fall of her breast, every lick of her lips. He was an animal playing with its food, enjoying the act of teasing her. Testing her to see if she had missed him.

“She would.” Her reply came out hoarsely, which only made the wicked smile on his lips widen further.

“And that would make you my queen,” he cooed as their noses brushed against one another. “Queen of the Narrow Sea.” His thumb moved slowly along the line of her jaw until it found the soft spot just beneath it where her pulse was hammering against her throat and pressed lightly.

She swallowed hard. “Queen of… of rocks and crabs and sand,” she said in jest, a paltry attempt at distracting herself from the now unbearable ache between her thighs.

Daemon chuckled shortly. “But my queen nonetheless.” His lips moved to her ear to deal their final blow. “Do not think that I have forgotten the sweet sounds of your moans, ābrazȳrītsos,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble like that of a dragon’s echoing throughout the Dragonpit. “Or the even sweeter taste of your cunt.”

She could not stay the soft whimper that fell from her lips. Her body practically trembled with unfulfilled need - three years of it. What a devil her husband was for inflicting such torment on her, and in clear view of every nobleman and servant who walked past.

And he was even worse for withdrawing from her completely and regarding her with a saccharine grin, though the dark lustfulness in his eyes belied his sudden pleasantry.

“My brother unfortunately demands my company just now, ñuha dōna, but rest assured…” He looked her up and down hungrily once more before stepping around her in a single languid step. “I shall be treating you like a queen tonight.”

Her eyes scanned the page of the open book that was draped across her lap, but the words may as well have been written in Lhazareen. She had gone over this page a dozen times but retained nothing, plagued by thoughts of her husband as she was.

The sun had long since set and here she sat, alone, by the fire waiting for him. Of course, the king was not to be denied his brother’s presence and she knew that Daemon was certainly basking in the attention and praise that was being showered on him. But she would still hold him to his promise.

Having given up on her paltry attempt at reading, she rose. Her bare feet carried her restlessly back and forth across the cool flagstone floor of the bedchambers that her husband had not slept in for three long years. With every turn, her eyes flitted to the door as though she could will it open with her mind alone.

“Seven hells, Daemon,” she sighed.

She had not sated her own desire after her husband had left her wanting earlier, so the anticipation of their reunion this evening had only continued festering inside her throughout the day. It gnawed at her now, an itch that only he could scratch.

What could she do to prepare for him, she wondered? There was no use in changing into a nightgown that would only end up on the floor. She had no wish to drink herself into a haze that would rob her of the pleasures of their lovemaking. In the end, she decided to perch herself before her vanity and remove the jewels adorning her neck, ears, and fingers. They would only get in the way.

It was when she dipped her head to unclasp her necklace that she heard the heavy wooden door push open. Her eyes immediately snapped to the mirror in front of her, only to see her husband already leaning against the far wall, admiring her. The mere sight of his lips curled into a half smirk was enough to send a rush of heat through her lower belly.

“Do you require assistance with that, ābrazȳrītsos?”

Daemon did not wait for an answer before he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered over to her. Sneakily placing something on the cushion beside her, he took his place behind her and lifted his hands to remove her necklace.

“Red was always so becoming on you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, admiring the color of the rubies against her skin before carelessly tossing the necklace onto the vanity. “You were destined to be a Targaryen bride.”

Her eyes fell closed as she felt his lips move downward to press to her neck. “Yes, I think I was.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” His words were a soft hum against her skin. “I have something to give you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. With her eyes closed, she could hear the rustle of his tunic as he turned. Smell the sweet aroma of wine on his breath. Feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her. Then, there was the cool touch of metal on her forehead and the sudden weight of something in her hair. His fingers gathered the long strands of hair that she had already unbraided and brushed, pulling them to one side of her neck. Once again, his lips found her ear.

“Open.”

She found her image in the mirror again and beheld his gift to her. A circlet cast in what she assumed was Valyrian steel with glittering rubies mounted along the front of the band. It fit her head perfectly and complemented the color of her hair in a way that no other accessory ever had before. When she reached a hand up to touch it, Daemon caught her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“Oh, it’s beautiful…” she breathed. The smile that lit up her features elicited one of his own. “This is what kept you, isn’t it?”

A look of pride flashed in his eyes. “My queen deserved a crown.”

She turned around in her chair to face him, her smile gone and her brow furrowed. The gesture was a lovely one, but it would be an insult to Queen Alicent for her to ever wear this publicly. And she had already spent the last few years as an outcast at court; she would never take risk worsening the others’ view of her. “Daemon, I-I couldn’t possibly wear this. Not at court…”

“Then wear it for me,” he crooned, slowly smoothing his hands along the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “And nothing else.”

She couldn’t bear it any longer or deny her burning need for him. He could ask anything of her and she would submit. He had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it.

“How… how do you say ‘queen’ in High Valyrian?” Her voice was but a breath, trembling and full of lasciviousness.

Daemon smiled crookedly. “Dāria.” His thumb brushed across the spot on her neck where he could feel her hammering pulse, just as it had earlier. “Ñuha dāria.”

She knew enough of his mother tongue to know what that meant.

My queen.

“And ‘king?’” Her throat felt painfully dry, now.

He leaned forward, his gaze reflecting a mixture of playfulness and possessiveness. “Dārys.”

She watched as what little was left of violet in his eyes was overtaken by the black of his pupils. His hand at the side of her neck squeezed slightly. His nostrils flared. And, all the while, he wore the same half-smirk on those lips of his that she wanted to kiss every last inch of her.

“Say it,” he growled.

“Ñuha dārys.”

Their lips crashed together in a devouring kiss far more passionate than the one they had shared in the hall that afternoon. Daemon easily lifted her into his arms and bore her toward their bed, just as he had on the night that they were married. He did not break their kiss for even a second, not to breathe or to utter soft words of yearning and love. They had so much lost time to make up for and tonight would only be a start.

With barely any care for the intricately sewn gold buttons that trailed down the back of the dress, his hands began to rip the garment open. He tore at the red fabric with the ferocity of a beast while his tongue danced with hers. They were caught in a swirling storm of desire and longing, heat and passion - and they were perfectly content to let it sweep them away together.

Buttons scattered across the flagstone floor to be lost forever underneath the heavy furnishings, and soon her dress joined them as it fell in a heap beside their bed. Daemon’s roguish smirk returned when his hands cupped her bare arse and pressed her against him.

“It’s hardly befitting of my queen to strut about the palace without smallclothes like a common whore.” He bit down gently on her bottom lip and relished in the soft mewl that rose in her throat. “Any man could…”

As his voice trailed off, she felt his fingertips ghost over her hip before moving to her center and sliding into her wet heat. His fingers curled inside her immediately, expertly finding her most pleasurable spot as though it had not been years since he had last fucked her. A stuttering, wanton moan left her, only encouraging him to continue.

“...take advantage.”

Daemon coaxed her back onto their bed, never pulling his hand away from where, with rapacious speed, he was already bringing her to the brink of the most carnal pleasure. But as she pushed herself up onto her elbows in search of his lips, he pulled back.

“Uh uh,” he hummed. “Look at me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He no longer wished to kiss her, choosing instead to watch her with the same darkened eyes as he had earlier. He saw it all. The way her half-lidded eyes struggled to stay on his, the way her brow twitched and furrowed, the way her neck strained with effort.

And she was ablaze beneath him, the dragon’s touch inside her reigniting a fire that she had not felt in so long. The warmth of it began to spread through her as his fingers swiftly brought her to her release, which spread through every limb until it consumed her like a wildfire in the countryside.

There was a grin of satisfaction on Daemon’s face when she opened her eyes again. To him, no sight could have been better than that of her beneath him, breathless, with flushed skin as she lay in the haze of her release. And to her, the image of him licking her wetness from his fingers with such lecherous desire in his eyes could have finished her once more.

He sat back on his haunches to remove his doublet and tunic, which joined her gown on the floor as though they may as well have been dirty rags. She barely had time to study his bare torso, scarred and more muscular than it had been when she had seen it last, before he was upon her again. When he leaned over her to kiss her, her own hands took over and began to fumble at the closure of his breeches.

“My poor little wife,” he rasped, “left without a husband to fill her all this time.”

Her lips curled into a sly grin that she knew he could feel against his lips. “Perhaps I have taken a lover in your absence.”

“Name the man and I shall have his head.” Daemon spoke in jest, she knew, but she also surmised that a certain level of sincerity lay beneath his words. Any man that would dare touch the wife of the Rogue Prince would incur his wrath. “Nay, his cock, and he may live out the rest of his days as a eunuch. Perhaps I will have him sent away to become an Unsullied or a priest of Boash.”

He watched her face intently as her trembling fingers finished their work at his breeches. She had already been brought to pleasure but the sight of his thick, hard cock emerging from his trousers as she pushed them down renewed that same need inside her like an ember that had been rekindled into a blaze. A memory bloomed in her mind of when she had first laid eyes on his manhood on the night of their wedding and how she had doubted that it could even fit inside her. She found herself considering the same thought now.

“O-on the contrary,” she managed, dotting her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “I have had to pleasure myself.”

“Oh?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted as his hand lifted to her chin to hold her gaze so she had no choice but to see his lust. “I would have you show me sometime, ñuha dāria,” he purred with voracious need. “But for the rest of tonight? You will not cum anywhere but on my cock.”

He took her firmly by the hips, his calloused fingertips digging into her skin as he pulled her with him so that she straddled him. And then, in a brief moment of tenderness that barely concealed his near-animalistic desire, he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Know this: your cunt shall never go unfilled again. And perhaps I will put a babe in you, now that I am home.”

“Please.” Her voice, though barely a whisper, was heavy with want.

“Issa, ñuha dāria.”

Daemon pulled her hips down so that she sank onto his cock, too impatient to give his wife any time to adjust after three years apart. A soft whine left her at the sudden fullness, the way he stretched her as though he had claimed her maidenhead for a second time. He did not let even a second go to waste before he began to guide her movements atop him. She was at the mercy of his hands, which demanded her pleasure and the closeness of her body without remorse.

What he need not demand was the sweet cries of ecstasy that passed her lips, which filled their bedchambers and, likely, spilled into the hall outside of their door. They felt almost sinful to listen to and, yet, were the most beautiful sounds that he had ever heard.

“Gods… Daemon…” she moaned, her body arching into him. She had spent so many nights whispering his name into the darkness of their bedchambers as she brought herself to release at the thought of him. But to have him beneath her, inside her, around her once again was pure bliss.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Daemon pressed his face between her breasts and groaned hoarsely. “That’s it, ābrazȳrītsos,” he panted against her flushed skin, his fingers moving further to grasp her by the arse and pull her closer.

It would not be the gods that would make her cum tonight; it would be him.

She could feel it, the pleasure beginning to tighten inside her. She was at his mercy, lost in the feeling of him bucking his hips up into her and the sensation of his lips at her breasts. It felt impossible that one should experience such rapturous delight as this. In every touch and every choked growl that left him, she could sense that he felt exactly the same.

“Daemon, please–” Her words left her as a high-pitched squeak, signaling to him just how close she was to falling over the edge. Her body began to tense, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips. Her hands flew to his upper arms, grasping and almost pushing, as if to try and escape the wave of pleasure that was fast approaching.

But he would not let her go until it consumed them both.

With his hands still at her hips, Daemon pushed her backward until she was buried in the soft blanket that had been so perfectly laid atop their bed mere moments ago. His body sunk into hers, taking over from her previous ministrations atop him as her hands anchored themselves to his shoulders. He rutted into her like an animal, starved as he had been of her body for the last three years.

She felt herself shudder when his lips planted kisses along her jawline and moved up until they found her mouth. He swallowed every desperate moan that left her, the taste of them growing sweeter and sweeter the closer she came to her peak.

Her walls began to clench around him, her breath hitching with his every thrust. Any words she may have uttered only coiled at her throat, her thoughts meaningless as the building pleasure finally unfurled inside her. He held her steadfastly as she came around him, his touch her only lifeline as the heat and delirium ravished her completely.

“Cum with me,” she gasped against his lips. He would have kept going, brought her to another peak before finishing, but her soft plea was enough to end him, too.

“Fuck…” he groaned, thrusting into her one final time as he spilled himself inside her.

And when their shared pleasure had passed, her vice-like grip on his shoulders released. The light touches of her fingertips traveled across his back, feeling each new scar that he had acquired in the Stepstones. But he relished in her gentle touch after so many years of war, and allowed himself to collapse against her.

The weight of his body was soothing, his warmth a balm for her lonely heart. Their breaths slowed and, soon, the only sounds in the room came from the fireplace opposite their bed. It crackled and burned, its radiant heat intermingling with the lingering warmth of their coupling.

Daemon eventually lifted his head again and reached a hand up to straighten the circlet that had half fallen off of her head in their final throes of passion. He paused to admire the sight of her, still in a daze and wearing a sleepy smile on her lips. He kissed her once more and, when he withdrew, she saw that his eyes had regained some of their earlier hunger.

“Do not think that I am finished with you, ñuha dāria.”

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

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Brunch Date || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

Summary: Paparazzi capture a cute little brunch date that you and Tom take your daughter Elsie, on.

Warnings: absolutely none cause this is just pure fluff 🥰

Wc: 762

Dad!Tom Blyth x reader au masterlist

divider by @pommecita

Hand-in-hand, you, Tom and Elsie walk through the streets of Brooklyn. You were on the look out for a place to eat brunch since this morning it took awhile for Elsie to wake up and get ready. You didn’t bother bringing a pram since there were lots of nearby cafes to your home.

It had been a whole month since you and Tom revealed that you were parents and a whole month since the promo tour of tbosas finished. Not many pictures of Elsie were out still, not that you purposely intended that. It just coincidentally happened.

But it felt great being out in the open comfortably with your family. Elsie had her arms up, both hands gripping Tom’s and your hands as you both lightly swing her. Childish giggles escape her mouth as you and Tom smile.

“Ooh, what about that place?” Tom points over to a little cafe on the corner of the street. It wasn’t very busy inside and you had already since great comments about it while you were looking at the cafes around this morning on your phone.

You sat in a three seater table that overlooked the street of Brooklyn, Elsie in the middle. “Would you like water?” Tom asks as he gets the jug of water. “Yes please,” You smile, tucking a loose strand of Elsie’s hair behind her ear as she nods. Her hair up in two pigtails, just how she liked them.

Tom fills her glass before carefully holding it for Elsie as she drinks it. You look through the menu, your eyes scanning the contents of it as you discuss with Tom the options. Wanting more attention on her, Elsie crawls onto her dad’s lap as Tom lets her, her little arms wrapping around his neck, their cheeks side by side as you laugh.

You quickly snap a photo of the two. “Do you want pancakes baby?” You ask, looking at Elsie, “Yes please,” She voices out as Tom cracks a smile. “Good manners darling,” He praises her, kissing her cheek before he passes Elsie to you, getting up to order.

Tom comes back a few minutes later. You decide to sit in Elsie’s spot beside Tom as she sits on your lap, her eyes on the road before her and the people walking pass. “Do you want to go to somewhere after this?” Tom asks you as he takes a sip of his coffee.

You spoon feed the froth of the babycino into Elsie’s mouth as you hum. “Actually yes, I saw this really cute pinafore for Elsie when I was walking by the shops a couple days ago,” At the mention of her name, Elsie turns her head to look at her parents.

You and Tom giggle as he lightly pinches her chubby cheek as Elsie smiles. “You’re so cute darling,” You kiss her forehead just as the food arrives. You thank the waitress and you move to sit back at your seat, Elsie back on hers.

Tom takes Elsie’s plate as she waits patiently, he was cutting it up into small bits so that she could eat it without hassle. “There you go sweetheart,” Tom smiles at her daughter as she digs in.

The three of you ate your dinner with Elsie taking a little bit longer. You watched your daughter as she chews her food slowly, her curious blue eyes wandering around the place. You had spotted a few paparazzi’s taking photographs a few times but you didn’t mind since they were on the other side of the street, far away.

A few people would stare as they walked by but they were all super respectful and didn't come up to ask for photos while you were eating. After Elsie finished, the three of you left the cafe and made your way to downtown brooklyn. Elsie was in Tom's arms most of the walk there since she felt clingy.

You stopped at the shop you mentioned to Tom and did a little shopping for Elsie. Hand in hand, you and your daughter walked around the shop, picking out things that she liked.

Tom was trailing behind, his eyes looking around the cute little shop that had the cutest pieces of clothing and thought how adorable they would look on her daughter.

All the clothes that you and Elsie picked out ended up in Tom's arms as he happily held them all. You helped Elsie try on all the clothes and did a little fashion show for Tom. It was honestly so adorable and Tom found it absolutely entertaining.

#dad!tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #fanfiction #tom blyth fluff #dad!tom blyth drabbles #social media #social media au #tom blyth x actress!reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tom blyth x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 12 days

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Jamil Viper: A Web, Tangled

Aaand here we go with the Relaxing in Room line of birthday cards :v d ehebkwjw It’s so funny that they chuck pillows to attack??? (By the way, congrats to this Jamil card overloading and crashing the JP server 😂)

For this series of birthday ficlets, I’ll focus on writing each birthday boy preparing to walk to school with the reader (since the duo partner barely appears in the vignettes). Can be read platonically or romantically, whatever you prefer~

Rise and Shine!

You lingered by the doorway, your eyes glued on Jamil.

He was preoccupied with glimpsing himself in a mirror set on a table. Before him were various accessories from a jeweled box. (Judging from the gaudiness of the massive rubies on it, it must have been a gift from Kalim.)

Loose tresses the color of dark chocolate tumbled down his back. When Jamil ran a brush through them, the sun caught and his hair tempered, turning lustrous.

You’d seen him massage his scalp with oil-slicked hands before—and again, he diid it, followed by some sort of a cream. The routine left his head moisturized smelling faintly of jasmine. Jamil never compromised when it came to hair care.

You often had to remind yourself that he was not a princess, entrancing as he was. The sway of his hair, the snap of his steps. Each movement, close to a part in a mysterious dance.

Jamil produced his magical pen. The magestone laid in it was as clear as a cloudless day, and the color of blood that had been left out for a little too long.

Now came the spectacle, the very highlight of your entire morning.

Jamil raised the pen as if he was a conductor waving his baton. A hush fell over an imaginary audience, a collective of breaths held in anticipation. This is it, this is it.

He flicked his wrist, and the magic flowed.

A trail of scarlet light emanated whenever Jamil drew his wand. The accessories laid out on his desk floated up, compelled, in a neat line. A band with a feather dangling from it, narrow golden bangles, flat beads that clinked like coins.

His dark locks lifted, dividing themselves into even sections, then into even smaller ones. They carefully twisted over and under each other, weaving into tight braids. Accessories slid on, effortlessly fitting themselves at his direction.

His intricate hairstyle assembled quickly, as if arranging the pieces of a familiar puzzle.

The red sparkles faded into a fine shimmer and then into nothing at all. As the last traces of magic settled, you bursted into applause.

“Bravo, bravo! Great show as always,” you said appreciatively.

“… That wasn’t a performance,” Jamil corrected as he set his magical pen down.

“It might as well be! It takes some serious skill to pull that off every morning.” You gestured to him. “And so fast!“

“Anyone could accomplish it with enough time and practice.” His words choice was humble, but there was a hint of a smirk in his tone.

A rare moment of triumph for him.

“Not just anyone. I think you’ve got a natural talent for this kind of thing,” you grinned broadly, “like a spider!”

Jamil’s neutral expression splintered, leaving jagged edges exposed. His left eyes twitched, pupils pinpricks.

“Excuse me? In what way do I remind you of a vile bug?”

“Hey, don’t knock spiders! You guys have similar skills. The braids, the webs. You make’m well, all nice and strong. No strands out of place.”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” he groused, a hand on his hip. “I’d prefer if you didn’t compare me to them. It feels wrong.”

Jamil shivered. Not from the cold, but with repulsion.

You gave a laugh—soft against the rising morning sun. “Really? But you’re so alike in other ways too.”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. Mildly offended, perhaps.

“Elaborate,” he commanded.

“They’re hard working and important but under-appreciated,” you pointed out. “Without spiders, there would actually be a lot more bugs around. We should be more grateful to have spiders’ webs.”

There was a pause, deliberate. Then a gentle prompt.

“… Remind you of anyone?”

Jamil scoffed. It was as loud as a thunderclap in his suddenly cavernous bedroom.

“Maybe.”

Two syllables, clipped. An acknowledgment.

“Jamil-senpai…?”

He hurriedly looked away, staring at the wall for likely longer than what was deemed appropriate. Any more, whether in length or in intensity, and he might have burned a hole in it. His face, hotter than the Scalding Sands.

Your brows shot up. “… Ah. Could it be that you’re feeling embarrassed?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this couldn’t possibly ruffle me.”

You craned your body, attempting to meet his gaze. But he wrenched away, denying that to you. “Then why aren’t you looking at me when you say that?”

“I need to get ready for class,” he replied dismissively. “So close the door and wait outside while I change out of my pajamas.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject!”

“Well, we’ll both be running late if we continue to dawdle,” Jamil warned—a tactful evasive maneuver.

His hands found their way onto your arms, steering you into the hallway. You turned back, mouth opening to protest, but Jamil had already sealed himself off.

Banging and calling out to him was no good. Kicking resulted in you gripping onto your poor foot and whimpering. You were left in a sorry state, back to the door as you rested on the floor.

On the other side, Jamil was surely having a little laugh. Cheeks still burning from the praise showered upon him, basking in the afterglow of it.

You sighed.

A spider makes its web to deceive flies into getting stuck in it. Jamil-senpai can be just as tricky.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Jamil Viper #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Jamil Viper x Reader #disney twst #something no one asked for #jp spoilers #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #Jamil birthday takeover #Reader #self insert

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valhikes · 2 years

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Medicine Bow National Forest, Wyoming.

I was all packed up for a backpacking trip, but decided to head over to the local range high point and old fire lookout on a get-to-know-the-area day hike first. I visited Battle, including the cemetery, on the way.

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musedblues · 2 months

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AMORE ~ FATI (part 1)

a/n: wait until the movie? nah. haven't stopped thinking about this freaky fucker since the trailer dropped! eat up, babes. also the horny police called and there is a warrant out for my arrest.

description: after winding up in a crime related to the royals, geta strikes up a deal with you.

warnings: down right hoe shit, sexual descriptions, gruesome descriptions, minimal historical research/ distant memories from high school test, cliff hanger. MINORS DNI

Part 1 of 2 (at least)

///

The afternoon was like any other, the day your life changed. You awoke to an empty home, gathered your cart of crafts, and headed to the stalls. You sold your paintings there and begged the clouds to cover the swelter of the sun.

For your landscape art, you accepted coin. You accepted food. You accepted a jeweled ring that afternoon, just as well. An exchange like it wasn't out of the ordinary. You pawned the adornment for cash that evening, and made the trek back home. With plans to paint pictures into the night, to sell off the next day.

Your home was quaint, once big enough for two, now only you haunted the halls. The man you'd once been forced to marry had been dead for many months now, and a certain freedom was found in his absence. But a certain monotony about your routine seemed to predetermine the days ahead as far as you could see them. So, you painted.

As you fiddled with brushes and stained your grey dress with speckles of deep amber, a bursting knock came across your door. The guest gave you no time to greet them before turning into an intruder. Two royal guards burst into your home, shouting and grabbing you and dragging you away. All so quickly.

You went fighting. You cursed as they held you in a carriage. You demanded their silence broken. But they remained stone faced as you begged to know why you'd been abducted from your home.

Your captors rode into the city, past the colosseum, right through the gates that led to the home of the reigning family. Your heart hammered in fear, knowing what you knew about the rulers. Caracalla and Geta had only just taken over the reign of their father, their mother looming near, picking sides; as you understood. Since the change in leadership, Rome hadn't suffered en mass. But a growing dread hung heavy over the population, knowing the brothers were struggling to join together in power. Knowing their clash divided not only their power, but all of Rome.

You were grabbed at once more, forced out of the carriage and into the great hall of the estate. Gold and red statues lined the entrance. A plum rug stretched before your feet, a welcoming cushion as the rest of your senses were drowned by harshness. Before you, pacing near his throne, Geta waited.

You'd seen him and his brother before, trailing behind their father at rallies. Lingering near the stands at games. You'd always let your gaze settle on Geta, if ever you'd seen him. You'd always been drawn to gawk at the trimness of his figure. The enigmatic expressions he would pull. The presence he commanded. He was easy to admire, from afar. And the towns ladies often gossiped of how alluring he could be up close, if they were lucky enough to be invited to do so. No one spoke as much of Caracalla. In his name, fear and loathing often followed.

With a glare in your direction, Geta ceased pacing. He nodded toward his guards to relinquish their hold on you.

"What is all this?" You demanded, refusing to bow or humble yourself before this ruler in anyway. How could you dare offer up respect when little to none had been offered to you? Geta seemed taken aback, for a flash. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in shock, at your boldness. But then a grin flickered across his lips and his pacing started up once more.

"You're in possession of something of mine, no?" Geta alluded. Want as you might've to argue, to proclaim your innocence, you were too baffled. What could he possibly be on about?

"You were seen taking a ring as payment today, at your stall." Geta boomed, voice filling the room, echoing off the tall painted ceilings. He started into a story, then, that made things clearer. You learned that ring was a family heirloom, stolen by a servant only one night ago. That he'd sold it to a carriage driver for freedom. You learned that servant had been slain. But the ring was still gone. And you were the last person seen with the distinct bluish jewel in your palm. There were many a shopper along the street market this morning. Several were looking into your stall as you accepted the ring for payment. You couldn't deny the action. But you didn't have it any longer, anyhow.

"I exchanged it for money. With the sellers near the river." You decidedly conceded. "I've got nothing more to do with this now release me." Your voice shook, out of fear for your fate, and anger for your circumstance.

"Names." Geta stalled his meander, a few steps away from you. His dark eyes had cast across your figure before boring right into yours. You couldn't look right at him without feeling a shiver up your spine. And you were not about to let on that Geta had this effect on you. So, you cast your gaze to the hands at his sides, and scoffed at what you saw.

"Why? Are the rings already on your fingers not good enough? You cannot be allowed to want for what you don't have, if you're in possession of more than enough already."

"What's mine is mine! No one else's." Geta yelled, keeping his eye's boring into yours. His voice shook through the halls, and fueled your rage further. Your rage for your circumstance, and for that of this nation.

"Your greed shall poison this empire." You spat at the man.

"An empire I was born to rule cannot be soured, destiny has been at work since my conception and my father's before me." Geta grinned, an all-knowing sort of smile that was meant to belittle you, you were certain. But you couldn't be made to feel so worthless.

"We are all born to die, your highness."

"Your opposition will result in bleakness if you do not answer my call for this information. Give me their names." Geta shouted, still inches from you. Geta was giving you a chance to answer. And that shocked you. You voiced your opposition only because you thought you were surely moments away from being killed, and refused to die without standing your ground. But here you still stood. Geta was letting you.

As taken aback by his patience as you were, his arrogance and demanding shouts were only deepening your desire to withhold. To stand resolute. Who were you to ruin some poor people's lives over a bit of jewelry? Your silence was deafening, each passing moment tensing at Geta's shoulders. You watched his jaw clench, you watched his eye's dance between your own. You smiled.

"Get her out of my sight." Geta hissed, waving his men to capture you once more. You rolled your eyes as they grabbed at you. "Keep her in the cellar until she starts talking. Do not, however... take drastic measures."

You shot a perplexed frown the rulers way as he shook his head in your direction. A scowl turned Geta's lips down. But as he watched you begin to growl in unwillingness to go, his smile curled to life.

"And what of you? What punishments are you allotted?" You yelled as the guards dragged you away. Geta kept his furrowed smirk pointed at you, a puzzled sparkle in his eye.

///

The cellar smelled damp as it felt, your feet squelching along the dirt paths. You'd been taken past a row of prisoners, all in various stages of wither. You closed your eyes too them, offering silent prayers for their fates in passing.

"In you go," A guard shoved you toward the back of a small cell, chuckling as he locked the barred off door. "When you're ready to talk, we just might be around to listen. Let's hope we don't forget about you all the way over in this corner."

How had you ended up here? Hours ago, you'd been at peace in your quiet cottage, paint brush in hand. Now you sat on a wooden bench, senses filled with cold. How were the gods so cruel? Why did you have to accept that stupid ring? Why didn't you admire it longer? Maybe you would've found evidence of its owner, somehow, in the royal gleam of the thing. Maybe you could have returned it with honor, the promise of your home awaiting you. But none of that was happening. Now, you were unsure of everything. But you weren't going to go down without a fight. You weren't going to rat out the innocent fellow you pawned with, for simply surviving another day of this confounding life. You weren't eager to play into the rulers demands for more, as if he didn't have enough. As if he deserved to be granted assurance when himself and his brother offered Rome none.

Hours must've passed. Guards floated by time and again, jeering at you through the bars of your cell. As they passed you by, the voices grew louder yet, giving other prisoners hell. You heard shouts and screams. You heard begging for torture to cease. You heard the stabbing of flesh and the gurgle of blood. You heard the quiet from your own cell. Why were you being spared of such treatment? Why was your confinement different from the others?

As you began to question your own sanity, and the fate the gods had in store for you, a guard was passing by your cell once more. He stopped there, jamming a key into the lock. This was it. Your turn had come. You braced to be berated as the man reached in and yanked you to stand. The guard demanded you to follow as he dragged you through the cellar the same way you'd come in.

Suddenly you were in the great hall again. The purple carpet like clouds under your step. There were servants arranging decor as if an event were to be taking place soon. Your observation of the hall was short lived as the single guard dragged you up a marble staircase. The home was vast, and full of well painted statues and portraits and windows. The sun was long gone from the sky. It had to be later than midnight. As you soaked up your surroundings and let your imagination run wild, you tried not to worry how you'd be executed. You tried to remind yourself that death waited for no one. You tried to remember the last picture you'd been painting, a field of sheep under a setting sun.

Your captor stalled before a great carved door, twisting the handle. Your captor dragged you inside.

Candles lit a room with a bed in the middle, the biggest you'd ever seen. The amber glow of the space was welcoming, despite the terror that resided about your situation. Beyond the bed was a table full of wine, bottles of all sort decorated the clothed stand. Before the table, was Geta. His slump on a stool shifted when he saw you. Moving to stand, the man dressed more scarcely than before was slow to approach you. His expression unreadable.

"Leave us." He demanded, pointing the guard to exit the room. The man's parting left chills in his wake. What was to become of you now? What was this all about?

Geta did not stay still at your front. He instead let his head roll from one side to the other as his pace turned back toward the cloth covered table. Among the bottles of wine were a scattered few chalices. He filled one with a drink. And then another.

"We caught the carriage driver who initially accepted the ring." Geta announced, back toward you all the while. You admired the tone of his shoulders, as one was left uncovered by his robe. The cloth stayed tied among his waist. "We also captured the man you pawned the ring off to. We have the ring." Geta continued, bringing both cups of wine over to where you stood. Ah, so poison was to be your execution?

Accepting the chalice in a fist, you stayed silent all the while. Geta locked his tired gaze on yours and kept talking.

"The ring was my fathers. Something he left just to me. Caracalla was given finery as well, just for himself. We do not do well with equity, my brother and I." Geta raised his wine for a sip and kept his dark gaze locked on your own. His eye's were red from lack of sleep, it seemed. His eyes were bright, all the while, as they peered into yours. This leader had a way of drawing you in. This leader had a way of making you forget you were probably on the verge of slaughter or worse.

"And while this mission to hunt down the ring has been my mission alone, Caracalla's wrath has still been promoted since he learned something of our fathers had gone missing." Geta explained.

"What's become of the carriage driver and the man I sold your ring to?" You dared to wonder.

"The servant was killed as you know, by Caracalla's own sword. The driver has been exiled at my command." Geta said. "But the man you sold it too was killed as well, by my brother's guards. Before I could get to him. You see my wrath is often equal to Caracalla's. But my bloodlust isn't as insatiable. And I can see his way of violence has stirred fear among our people. Would you agree?"

You had to nod.

"I do not wish death upon you. Blood should only be shed in battles and in honor. You were a simple moving part. You should not deserve to be killed in the crossfire. But you should pay for stumbling where you dared not have stepped. Otherwise, Caracalla will catch wind that I let you slip away without a punishment. And he will do worse."

"So, what is my fate?" You wondered, clutching the wine in your fist, unmoving. Mind whirring. Had you really been shown a backhanded kindness by the ruler you'd always believed to be more unyielding? His already alluring nature becoming more attractive as you understood this to be true.

"Exile seems drastic, yes. But it's an option." Geta raised his glass to gesture, moving to pace before a cushioned chaise. This room, his room, wanted for nothing. There was space and comfort and treasure promised throughout its expanses.

"Then there could be a fine. You'd be meant to pay every fortnight." Geta reasoned drinking once more. Still not entirely trusting of your own wine, you rested the chalice on a nearby chest, crossing your arms with a scowl. As if this Empire needed more money.

"I'm too poor to keep that up." You spat, expressing displeasure in your tone. Geta raised a brow and frowned when he realized your implication, how much work needed to be done for the betterment of the population. With a sigh, Geta cast his gaze about the room. When his pace turned naturally closer to you, his eye's locked on your face as a realization dawned across his. Geta let a smirk hint at his lips as his dark eyes glanced into yours.

"There is... another way..." Geta implied something you didn't see coming. As the man continued his languid back and forth, his gaze stayed ever fixed on your figure. And you hadn't really been ashamed of the glances you'd stolen of his, this day. He was drawing closer, as if to entice you. He didn't need to know that it wouldn't have taken much seduction. He didn't need to know that you'd already been wondering what it would be like to untie the robe at his waist.

Geta didn't need to know that you were becoming less wrought with terror by the second. You'd hoped he'd never known you were afraid, before. But now, in the flickering candlelight of his lavish room, you saw him. The persona Geta had put on all these years, all this time, was just that. You could see plain as day. Geta was full of anger, yes. But he seemed full of so much more, to you, now, too. The man seemed to hold a brewing mixture of depth about him that felt so obvious all of a sudden. Now, more endeared to the ruler, and just as attracted, you made up your mind.

"Seeing as I have no funds... let's just get this over with." You sighed, feigning impatience for the wrong reasons.

Geta circled you, eyeing you up. You wanted to melt under how hot his gaze was. But right now this was all happening far too slowly. Your interest had skyrocketed. But your time had also been heavily wasted here. You had plans, after all. He'd held you captive long enough.

"Sit down. I'm tired of waiting." You barked at him, shoving his shoulder so he collapsed into the chaise. Geta fell seated at your order but looked up to you with an irate sneer. An anger passed over his expression but morphed into curiosity in a blink.

"Seeing as to how I'm getting what I want out of you, I don't mind giving into your demands." Geta announced, as if to remind you he was the one calling the shots. You couldn't help but grin, struggling not to roll your eyes at the man's obsession with power. Humming so he knew you heard him, you settled either knee at Geta's sides.

As the ruler's fingers reached to grab at your hips, your day flashed before your imagination. Funny how life worked. How days could be spent so monotonously for so long only to become upturned and scattered about the next. You never imagined you'd find yourself straddling one of Rome's emperors over a payment for your latest painting.

Geta's kiss surprised you. Not the fact that it was bruising, and harsh. But the fact that it was. You assumed this would go quickly, without much effort put into anything besides a quick and vulgar shagging. Granted, his lips didn't press into yours longer than a couple minutes, before his teeth were digging into your neck. But the way his hands wandered to grab at your limbs and claw at your skin was a welcomed affection you had not expected.

When you finally got to untie the robe around his waist, you couldn't help but admire the build of his core, the shape of his figure. You'd heard girl's oggle over the emperor before, he was no stranger to trysts of most kind. You'd heard girl's trade deadly details of their nights spent with Geta, his lust unbridled. But the sight of his body bare before yours was better than any rumor you'd caught wind of.

As you lowered yourself into Geta's lap, he was quick to rock his hips against yours with force you had been bracing for. His grip on your hips threatened to turn you over, but you'd be damned if you let him gain complete control. You rose a hand to the man's head, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Your fingers curled to grip with perhaps too much gusto, and your hips rolled to force Geta back, more fully seated.

You heard the man let out a hoarse curse as his grip lightened, as he accepted your dominance. Did this really count as payment if you were getting more out of it?

Geta pushed you away when it was all said and done, a steady hand stayed holding your side as he nudged you off of his lap. You maneuvered to stand, adjusting the skirt of your dress with a sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life. Surely thought you'd take it. Shame our exchange has come to an end. Didn't quite feel like a payment at all." A daring smirk painted your face as you turned to head for the door. You heard Geta lumber to stand, perhaps drunk off wine and pleasure. His feet padded as your hand reached for the handle of your escape.

"What was the painting?" Geta asked, stalling your leave and perplexing you to turn to face him. He was shrugging his robe back into place with a raised brow. "The painting bought with my ring, what was it?"

"Oh," You realized, pursing a frown. "I- I don't exactly recall. I do a lot of landscapes. Seascapes. Could've been anything like it." You noted. Geta watched you speak, mouth opened, stalled to say more. His tongue glided over the ends of his teeth as the man nodded and sauntered back toward his table full of wine.

"My guards will see to your return home." Geta called, back facing you. You took that as your leave, anxious for some rest after exhausting your mind with wonder all day, and your body with pleasure this night. As you shut the emperor's door with a soft click, a gratitude filled your chest. That could've gone a lot worse.

///

The next day seemed surreal. You recalled the night like a fevered dream, like a plot from a book. But there were scratches along your thighs that reminded you what had happened was very truly real. You recalled the feelings Geta stirred in you with warmth.

You milled from room to room, mind in constant awe of the way your life had been spared. Since the brothers had come into power, so many senseless killings had been threatened and followed through. So much violence had afflicted common criminals and the odd person out of place alike. Was it more to do with Caracalla? Was he truly the more cruel? Did Geta have a softness about him? Or had you just gotten damn lucky?

You went about your daily chores and sat down to paint. Your art displayed sheep dotting across greyish green land. Your setting sun was in progress. A breeze flowed through the window, and you imagined it in your painting as well. A knocking rattled your door. It's persistence grating your nerves. Only now, at least, no one was intruding.

Maybe that's why you were shocked more so now than before, to see two royal guards at your front door.

"Geta is demanding your audience." One of them chuckled lowly before reaching to grab at you. He was too strong to fight off, though kick and yell you did.

Oh God, he'd realized he'd let you off easy, hadn't he? You should've pretended to hate rocking against his lap in that chair. You should've begged for freedom. Or maybe it was Caracalla after all. Maybe he'd heard of your involvement with his father's stolen ring and wished you dead. And these guards were luring you in with a false promise that Geta was the one wishing for a meeting.

While your mind raced, and the carriage took off into the city and passed the colosseum, you cursed the guards for dragging you away again. For being such fowl scum of the earth to manhandle women like they did.

It wasn't long before you were being yanked from the ride and marched into the great hall with that luscious purple carpet underfoot. Geta was there, assessing a scroll with a couple of servants nearby. His shock surprised you, when his glance looked up from the papers.

As you squirmed against the holds the guards kept on you, Geta shoved the scroll he held onto, into the grasp of a servant. He drew his sword from his side, the instrument of war and horror blinding you in its brightness. The emperors stomp in your direction was quick, his footfall shaking the building and you to your core. This was it. This was your fate.

"Release her now!" Geta yelled, directing his fury to one of the guards at your side. Before the words fully formed from the man's mouth, either of the guard's grips had unlatched from your arms. You did not see that coming. You almost couldn't comprehend that his blade had missed piercing straight through you.

"You were gone for all of a few seconds before you bring her back here?" Geta quizzed, face red with anger. He held the end of his sword to the man's chin, forcing his footsteps back.

"You- you told us to go fetch the girl from last afternoon, is that not what we did your highness?" The guard was bold in asking, though his voice trembled.

"I told you to ask her to come. I told you to remain at her door in patience. And you dare drag the woman back in the matter of mere moments? With force? That's a direct disregard of my orders!" With speed that rallied a gasp from your throat, Geta whipped his sword to slash at the knees of the guard that defied him. The man let out a cry as his legs gave way, sending the fellow to collapse. Geta ordered the other guard to take the injured one to a medic and stay there until he was ready to deal with them further. His blood pooled and stained the purple carpet.

"Why am I here again?" You couldn't linger in uncertainty any longer, once again failing to greet the leader without any respect of his authority. Geta plunged his red stained sword into its sheath as he demanded his servants get out. The workers scattered at the sound of his command, scurrying toward exits. The room was filled with quiet as Geta turned to face you fully.

"I'm sorry they dragged you here. You were only meant to show up if you so wished." Geta's voice was lower, his rage subdued. He confounded you, the way he held so much darkness and contempt about him. The way he eased into constraint. These were not the stories you had heard. This was not the man described to you by retired servants and wives of soldiers. He was more withheld, before you. And it caught you by surprise time and again.

"But since you are here now, and you have not yet raised a hand to lash across my cheek, I shall tell you," Geta went on, letting his eyes do what they had done before. Letting his gaze sweep across your figure. "I asked you here to present to you a proposition. An invitation to spend more evenings like the one we shared just before."

"You cannot be serious." You let a breath of a laugh fan from your throat.

"I'm hardly ever anything but." Geta reasoned with a curled lip and a shrug of his shoulder in a way you knew was meant to get you to chuckle for real. This man continued to confound you. This man contained multitudes. How had no one else, in all their gossip, mentioned this?

"Is this more to do with payment? Did our exchange not suffice?" You reasoned, still uncertain of the terms in which Geta was asking.

"I think you know exactly how well our exchange sufficed. Well enough for me to not have stopped dreaming of doing exactly that time and time again. I'm merely asking because I wish too." Geta was so close, his breath ghosting across your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "And now you get to decide what you wish. Who am I to deny you a choice?"

"What happens should I turn to leave?" You wondered.

"A guard would take you home. And with fair treatment, I'd make certain."

"What happens should I stay?"

"A servant would take you upstairs. And your imagination could fill in the rest."

Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your day to turn out. That painting of all the sheep and the sunset would have to wait another long day. You suddenly couldn't dream of plans outside of those featuring Rome's half reigning emperor.

With a nod toward the door you'd seen Geta's servants go through, he grinned.

With footsteps more certain of the direction of his room, you found yourself locked in there, waiting.

///

The next weeks were filled with plans you couldn't tell anyone without fear they'd think you'd gone mad. You spent days milling about the stalls to sell your landscape paintings, careful of the payments you accepted. You'd harvest the fruits from your garden for meals and wait until night fall, when your promised escort arrived.

Nights were spent in Geta's room, on his floor, against his wall, in that blessed chaise. Nights were spent shoving the emperors head into the pillows as your hips rocked together. Nights were spent demanding he speed up and slow down at your desire. Nights were spent with Geta sharing wine in between drawn-out romps. You'd drink and laugh and carry on, a couple times until the sun peaked dimly into a new day. You'd stay drinking, sharing stories about where you had come from and your hardships. Things you'd hardly spoken of before. Things you couldn't believe Geta would listen so intently to.

It started off as only a few times throughout any given week. But at the end of those nights Geta would always ask about the next. You'd offer up a day or a time and he'd promise you that he'd see to it happening. He would pour you more wine and tell you the dirtiest jokes, and ask what pleased you most before those nights ended.

But after a while, he stopped asking. And your escort showed up outside your door more nights than most. And it became a rather expected part of the schedule of either of your days.

This night as you padded across the purple carpet, following behind a servant you'd come to trust; a ruckus was sounding from the stairwell you headed toward.

There you found Geta and his brother spitting fowl words in one another's direction. The men were swarmed by guards, ready to take on any outcome of the boys spat. And while they argued about political things you weren't privy to the full details of, you understood they spoke their father's name. You heard Caracalla remind Geta that their father had decidedly upped Rome's soldiers pay to ensure their loyalties to the empire. You heard Geta shout something about how his father was dead, how the brothers needed to learn to ensure loyalties in their own manner. And then he noticed you had arrived.

"Thank God." Geta seethed, waving his brother off, taking the stairs two at a time to lower himself to greet you.

"For you, Geta, trust is easily earned, isn't it?" Caracalla shouted, still domineering about the stairs. "A bat of your lashed eyes toward any common whore and they come flooding through our halls." Caracalla cast a snarl in your direction that turned Geta's blood so hot you swore you could feel the smoke coming off him. With a decidedly quick hand, you rested your fingers to grip Geta's arm, stopping him from running up the staircase to rip his brother in two. You didn't care so much what Caracalla thought of you, so long as Geta's opinion remained unchanged.

"But my powers of persuasion are not so charming. And I must demand trust more harshly. And I must remain harsh to keep control. And I do control the half of this empire entrusted in my name!" Caracalla was seething, fists balled at his sides, eyes bulging with rage. You'd never known anyone to be fueled by such negativity. Geta had slowly started toward his brother, letting your grip remain on his arm.

"We'll reach an agreement. But not till morning. Go back to your side of the estate, now." Geta demanded, taking the staircase slowly, keeping his eyes on his brother. The younger one stood shaking with fury as the elder led you to his room. Guards and servants followed, wordlessly seeing the pair of you behind closed doors. A couple of soldiers usually waited on either end of this hall, but tonight a few more lingered near in addition. These boys really hated each other.

Once locked in his room, safe from rage and question, Geta had you pinned against the wall. He'd usually greet you. He'd usually ask about what paintings you'd sold that day, or if you'd had any great stories of your family before they sold you to a husband. Or of your husband before he died. But tonight, Geta was ravenous. Tonight, he moved more accordingly to the rumors you'd once heard about him.

The emperor didn't fuss with your clothes. He didn't give you time to unravel his either. No sooner than his hand had crept up the skirt of your dress, was he rocking his hips into yours, pounding your back against the wall.

Your nails clawed at the back of his neck and your legs curled to flex around his waist. Geta was relentless as his body hammered into yours. He huffed harder with each new pulse and let out some cursed sighs when your teeth pierced into his shoulder, to keep from screeching all the same. You knew the guards could hear from the hall. But they didn't need to hear more than they had too.

His efforts had ended, his face stayed buried in your neck. But you weren't ready for it to cease.

"You think you're finished? You're only just getting started." You barked, pawing at Geta's head and forearm, shoving him downward. He didn't hesitate, his knees cracked to the floor with force you knew had to hurt. But he didn't seem phased. Geta seemed entirely entranced on bending your knee over his shoulder. Scratching his fingers along your skin. Burying his head between your legs. And he did so consciously, like a duty being fulfilled. He was relentless tonight, and you felt lucky to be relented against.

When your pleasure had ended, and you were left to slide from the wall to find footing, you found the wine too.

"Well, I can't help solve Rome's problems," You began, pouring you each a drink. "But I hope I've just helped solve some of your own, your highness." You half mocked, but half spoke in well-meaning regard. Geta hummed somewhere behind you. His voice sounded nearby. But his hands fell to close the space between you, gripping at the hilt of your hips.

"Dunno, might need to try a couple more times." You could hear the smile in his tone, and you felt his sultry chuckle against your neck, where he nearly dared to place a kiss, but didn't. Geta only reached ahead for his chalice, and asked about your day.

///

You didn't need to sell paintings. You could've lived a basic enough life, fed from the food you grew in your garden, rested from the comfort of your own bed. Secure enough in your late spouses left over finances.

You had known married life for all of five years. Wed before you'd even turned old enough to know better. All because your parents thought it best. They said you'd been sold to a husband to take care of you, in the long run. He did care for you, in his own twisted way. He kept you fed and housed until he died. And he left all his meager earnings to you in his passing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for you, for now, for a while.

You started painting when you moved in with him, to fill the days that dragged on so endlessly. You dreamed of freedom from the man for so long. And kept painting when he died, to fill those same days that were just as endless and a lot quieter to boot. He'd left you all alone in the expanses of the great wide world, yet freedom seemed even more unobtainable to you then, somehow. So, you painted. And decidedly started selling those paintings when the house filled up without room for any more of them. You kept selling them when you realized how eagerly peers bought from you.

You'd made friends down at the stalls. You found a quaint routine there, waiting in the sun to trade paintings for coins, and chattering with townspeople while the mornings stayed young. Bakers and seamstresses and writers alike shared your routine, all becoming familiar faces you were pleased to see each day.

"Goodmorning, you!" A trio of girls your age came giggling your way. Girls you'd invited over a few times. Girls you were happy to see now.

"Listen, are you going to the games in three day's time? I'd like us all to twirl about the colosseum buzzed on vino, carefree!" The small brunette leaned across the table your art was displayed on.

"She just wants to go to wait on Geta, afterward. He always invites girls in after the games." The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning against the post of your stall as you chuckled in understanding, and out of sudden apprehension. You and Geta agreed to your trysts because he trusted how discreet you could be. When you refused to bend your will to give the names of the people you pawned his ring to, he admired that. You couldn't give yourself away, now.

"But haven't you heard?" The redhead leaned in, waving you all to listen closer. "Geta hasn't invited any of the girls that wait at the empire gates in, in weeks."

You'd often trailed in past that very line of girls in question, much to their growing displeasure. Luckily, none of them were from the side of the country you had resided. None of them could spread your name around in whispers, as they did not know it.

"I'm still eager to take my chances." The brunette joked, going on to beg you to come to the games at the colosseum.

"I don't know." Was the best answer you could give without disappointing your friends, or thinking up a messy lie on the spot.

///

Another night in Geta's room was unusually spent in his bed. You'd been used to being forced against a chest of drawers, his voice growling in your ear. Or yours demanding the emperor sit on the stool before the table of wine, and wait in agony like a good, obedient, merciful ruler.

But tonight, Geta had you moving slower in his sheets. He'd closed his eyes as your hips rocked atop his, nice and easy. And when he reached to flip you over, his core pierced languidly into yours. His hand brushed across your cheek and his eyes stayed steadily locked on yours.

"Are you feeling quite alright?" You couldn't help but worry, too overcome with the silence that fell about the room. Geta had been resting at your side, his finger tracing the same pattern against your stomach forever.

"What if you stayed, tonight?" The ruler asked, after a while.

"You didn't answer my question. You realized, still confused as to what mood you'd found Geta in tonight. You'd been often surprised by his wit and his resolution. But this wasn't a way you'd known the emperor before.

"You didn't answer mine either." He pointed, finger still dancing across the skin of your abdomen. You turned your head to find Geta's gaze. His head rested on a pillow at your side, his eyes rolling up to lock with yours. His dark brown stare was illuminating. His curls graced his head so delicately. His silence was so reticent this night. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had had any wine.

"I'll stay if you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." You shot a pointed look to the man at your side who let a lifeless smile flash across his lips as his eyes turned away from yours. Silence filled the room once more, but you got the sense that Geta was choosing his words a while.

"Nothing... none of this is how I thought it would be." Geta spoke. You kept your eyes cast across his amber lit room, fixating on the pattern of the wallpaper. What did he mean?

"What's this?" You quizzed. "Ruling an empire? Sleeping with me? Sobriety from wine for a night?" You tried to joke, desperate for some kind of clarity.

"None of it." Geta responded, his inflection implying everything you listed was weighing on his mind then. And that surprised you. He was always surprising you. Silence settled yet again, and stayed for a while. It was Geta who broke it, after so long. He sat up to meet your eye, searching your gaze before offering a nod. You nodded back, knowing that meant your promise to stay here had been sealed. He rose from the bed to dim the candles, and crashed back into it with a sigh.

When Geta rested his head of golden curls on your chest, in the dark and quiet of his room, you finally understood what he meant. This was all very different now, than it started. None of it had turned out in an expected way. But you felt at ease with it all. You hadn't shared a bed with anyone since your late husband, and those times simply did not count in your mind. You did not care for that man as you had come to care for the one laying against you now. And that dawned on you in fear. But then, a realization that it didn't matter. Not now. Now, you got to rest under the weight of the emperor, for one peaceful night.

///

The next morning was bright and felt early in your bones. And it wasn't long before it hit you, the games were meant to happen today. Geta's stirring at your side was a relished wonder, as his smile widened to see you upon waking. But it all came crashing down as servants and soldiers demanded quick work of getting up and ready for the day of events.

"It will be too hard to send you away now, with all the crowds starting to gather." Geta realized, peering from the window of his room to the public below. "I'll have some appropriate attire sent for you. You shall join us today." The emperor's smile was bitten back, but you saw it reached his eyes as his looked into yours.

Things were shifting with Geta. Night's were turning into days with him. Festivities were offered to be shared. You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to wonder why. You simply thanked him for his offer and waited for clothes to change into as the leader headed out of his room, yelling for a guard to hurry along and follow. You milled about Geta's room, admiring the wallpaper in the daylight. Admiring the stained glass of his window. You traced your finger along carved chests and bed posts. You dared to open a drawer, finding a collection of jewelry there, a familiar blue stoned ring at the front of the collection.

You snapped the drawer shut in a hurry when a knock came across the door.

"Hello." A familiar face entered. Julia, the Emperors mother, twirled in the room with a stack of garments. "These are mine from seasons past. I brought a few, just in case." The woman was dear, with soft curls that matched her sons, gold earrings that brightened her blue eyes. She smiled and introduced herself as if she needed too. For her, you bowed.

"Such a pretty thing, you are." Julia cooed, resting her clothes at the foot of the emperor's bed before turning to consider you. "I've seen you come and go. Quite the feat to boast over. Geta never struggled to make friends, not like Caracalla. But he has failed to keep so many of them."

Julia kept a studying gaze on you as you thanked her for her kindness and watched her saunter out the door. The woman told you to meet the family downstairs once you readied yourself. That's when a certain anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. What was this? What had you gotten yourself into? Worry plagued your mind as you squeezed into a bright blue and plum skirt. The fabric hugged at your figure but fell so elegantly to the floor. You never dreamed of such finery adorning you. You'd never dreamed of a life so different from the one you'd been used to living.

Downstairs, everyone had gathered, gearing up to head out. Guards of every kind kept the ruling brothers on either side of the room while Julia flitted about, laughing with a man you didn't know. Senators and councilors seemed to mingle with the family just as well, their wives and children patiently lingering on the outskirts of the gathering.

When Julia found you descending the stairs her first greeting after a smile was to tell you how perfectly the dress fit, how powerful you seemed entering the room. She said you held a certain presence about you, keeping a watchful eye on your expression as you gushed to thank her for such continued kindness.

And then you were off, trailing with the wives and the children of the party as the royal family presented themselves before the public. They were loved and hated so that the cheers and boo's from the crowd muddled together in an indistinguishable roar. Your heart pounded to realize how close you were to the action of the day, to realize how viscerally the opinion of the public mattered to the fate of the royals.

You watched Caracalla pull some face, pointing a finger at a citizen who cursed his name on the families walk toward the colosseum. You watched women line themselves along the path Geta walked, his politics be damned. You watched as he turned to look back, smile stretching wider as his eyes found yours. You watched then, as Julia stalled to join your side, and failed to calm the quickening of your heart as she held your arm to walk with you. None of this was how it used to be.

The woman leaned in, explaining exactly how today's games were meant to go. She yammered about the history of it all and pulled a few giggles from your throat as she threw in some personal deadly details about old games she'd bore witness too.

Once you'd all reached the colosseum, the brothers were ushered off to find their royal box, while Julia strategically placed you just outside of there. She frowned when she reminded you could not be allowed to join them further than here, but smiled when she hoped you'd enjoy the day's events. You watched her saunter off, stopping a guard and pointing in your direction before she disappeared in the box all the while. The guard locked his gaze with yours, offering a respectful nod as you considered your surroundings.

All kinds of vendors and stalls were open around every entrance of the arena. All kinds of people wandered about, sampling food and drink, playing cards at tables until the event's kicked off. You decidedly began to wander about, accepting free samples and smiling to people you'd seen in passing. You shielded your eyes from the sun and noticed that guard trailing nearby, keeping a steady eye on your every move.

When the crowds began to clamor toward the inside of the arena, you realized the games were about to begin. You downed a free sample of wine and found your way to watch from afar. Caracalla and Geta were announced in, and greeted with that same muddled roar of praise and disregard. You watched as Geta ate up the attention. You watched as Caracalla fought against it, spitting and arguing with some poor guard in the box. There was something so volatile in the air, as if one wrong move from either of the emperors would unleash havoc. The public was only one excitable realization away from realizing their joined forces could rip the royals from limb to limb. Geta was quick to shift focus to the games, demanding the publics energy be reserved for the battles that were begun, turning the spotlight away from himself. It was a tactical move, but you worried if he and his brother did not change the course of their political actions soon, no amount of pantomime could save them.

Another few swallows of wine helped ease your nerves, all the while. You'd forgotten how on edge the public had only just seemed. You'd been entranced by Geta's presence even from so many miles away. His distraction's had worked wonders on the crowd, his excitable reactions to the winners and losers kept the arena entertained for the better, for now. He kept you entertained all the while. When he would tear his gaze from the games every once and a while, you liked to imagine he was looking for wherever you might've been.

When you wandered off to find more wine, the guard that had been following you stayed back, glued to the battle that was happening. You returned with two cups, to share. The guard tried to deny your kindness but caved with a smile at your insistence to have at least one drink. It was a day of festivities after all.

"We thought you weren't going to make it!" A voice familiar echoed over your ear. Turning from the view of the battle, you found your friends. You chuckled as you greeted the small brunette, buzzed enough off wine to shrug your nerves away. You couldn't exactly explain how you ended up here, to them. Or how you'd come to dress so finely. But they didn't pester you too much about it, drunk all the same. The girls swarmed you with giggles and hello's and how are you's.

"Change your mind, have you?" The blonde teased, raising her brow at you. But your mind was too slow to understand why.

"This is the gate the royals always leave from. Isn't it obvious?" The small brunette pointed, waving her hand to gesture around. When you glanced up, you noticed a particularly increasing population of young women that had begun to collect around the area. Geta always famously exited from this path, and always famously collected a girl or two to follow him back to the royal hall.

"Oh, no, I just sort of-" You stumbled over words, "ended up on this side." How were you to explain this all away? "I actually... should be going now that it's nearing an end. Get home before sun set." This reason sounded good enough in your head to speak aloud, as you began to walk backward, waving to your friends all the while. You spun on your heels, anxious to get away, making up your mind to head home should that be your only sound escape. But you'd barely walked a dozen paces before that guard was gliding close and halting your leave.

"You're not to go. I'm to see you united with her highness when she passes through that exit."

"Is- is that what she ordered?" You asked meekly, looking up to the roman soldier who loomed over you with his bulky build, yet kind eyes. The man did not speak, but lifted a hand to spin you around by the shoulder, placing a gentle palm there to guide you back where you came from. You saw your friends notice, perplexed gaze's settled on your march as you stepped closer to where they'd stayed waiting.

Caracalla was the first one to storm through the arched entrance, scowling at you on his storm toward his chariot. But then, a spectator, too drunk for his own good, began to slur insults to the emperor. The fellow had barely began cursing Caracalla's name, before the ruler stepped close to grab the man by his throat, strong enough to lift him to the tips of his dirty toes. The citizen struggled to breathe, squirming for relief. Caracalla shouted in the man's face, something about knowing better. The ruler let go, the citizen dropped to the floor in a rattled gasp. When Caracalla demanded the guards that followed him, to slaughter the citizen still choking for breath on the ground, you'd had enough.

"Do not do that. Have you such little mercy?" It wasn't to be helped, the way your body and mind worked together to force out a shout. You should have been more afraid of the way Caracalla turned to fix his fiery gaze on you. But rage at the senseless violence was all you could feel. Yet, the guards were already slashing their swords at the belly of the the citizen, so he might suffer still before passing.

Caracalla stood considering you, longer than you expected. The crowds fell silent, the only noises were the hoarse cries from the dying man. And your heart hammering in place.

Caracalla moved his look from you, to the guard steady at your side, and back to you. His head shook, and a scoff left his throat. He turned to leave, kicking the man he'd murdered on his exit. Your body shook with panic. Your stomach churned at the realization that you'd escaped yet another royal execution.

The crowds parted to let Caracalla pass, steering clear of the angry little man. Your friends seemed to think of walking closer to where the guard had stalled you to wait. But their confounded and horrified expressions morphed into something more wonder filled, as their collective eye unfocused from your position.

You were too busy assessing your friend's questioning gazes to see he'd appeared. But instead, you heard Geta's voice in your ear.

"I'd say you're lucky he spared you. But I think there are more powerful forces than luck working on your side." You heard him say. Your friend's gazes had no doubt been locked on the emperor, but soon fell more perplexed onto you, yet again. And then you realized everyone's eyes had shifted to you. The entire crowd that had watched you speak against the vindictive leader just ahead. The same crow that had pushed closer to wait for a scrap of attention from the man that spoke to only you, now, was casting a collective stupefied glare right at you.

"I'd like to take you away now, but I'll have you wait on my mother. She hasn't stopped bringing up your name since this day has begun." Geta stayed speaking lowly, and you nodded to assure you understood, keeping your nervous gaze cast on the crowd that had fixated their attentions on you. "Do not worry though, tonight we can debrief in more ways than one."

You had to turn and grin at him then, pleased to see he'd waited to share a smirk with you. He was off no sooner though, parting through the crowd with little acknowledgement their way. Your friends kept their slack jawed gazes set on you as you wondered for a beat about saying something to them. But then Julia was sweeping you away, resting her clutch at the bend of your arm like she'd done before.

They watched you leave, just as everyone had. You shot your friends a quick shrug and an expression you hoped they'd understand meant you'd catch them all up later, if ever you could dream up a good enough fib.

Unlike your journey here, Julia asked all about you on your trek back. You gave thoughtful answers, not daring to spare the truth of your meager life to the woman, but hoping the way you spoke of it would endear you to her somehow. It wasn't like you needed to be adored by Julia. But you did long to be respected in some basic human way, by the royal woman.

///

That evening went on strangely. Caracalla locked himself away in the furthest parts of the halls. No one dared speak about him in his absence. No one had dared to allude to his fury or righteousness at all. Instead, the tone of the evening was rather merry. You shared a meal with a mile long table of strangers, glad all the while to have been welcomed in the celebrations of the day. You gabbed with socialites and senators alike, until one by one they headed for home and bed. Try as you might to take your leave, Julia would not let you. She only kept dragging you from guest to guest to introduce. Until you were the last one standing. Until even Julia had made her exit from the room, Geta too. Leaving you to wait in the parlor until further command.

A pair of guards stood unmoving near the doors, as you sat at the head of the dirty table. There were plates and glasses and saucers left awry, covered in crumbs for the kitchen maids to come and handle. There was a steady crackling fire on the opposite end of the room. There was wallpaper that didn't put your senses at ease the way the kind in Geta's room often had.

When the sound of the door opening stirred you from blank thoughts, you shifted to stand. Julia was easing into the room, smile and curls soft as ever. Eye's full of a certain kind of knowing. Behind her, Geta followed. His mother spoke your name, as if to grab your attention, as if she didn't already have it.

"You're not to return home." The woman began, gliding to stall before you. Geta shouldered past her, moving to stand at your side and watching as his mother spoke. "I've noticed you come and go, as I mentioned." Julia went on. "And I've noticed how my son has been less fraught, during the time you've been around. I've heard you speak, and I've seen you command a presence in any room you enter."

"What are you on about? What is this?" Geta demanded, that brooding gaze of his beginning to darken as understanding evaded him.

"As good as she has been for you, son, I'm certain she'll benefit our empire just as well." Julia glanced to Geta before her gaze settled unmovably on yours. Your chest filled with the weight of a realization. Your mind buzzed with wonders of her implications. "You will marry in two days time. Enough to spread the news across the public, and plan something grand."

"Marry?" You breathed, feeling your heart hammer in your stomach.

"You actually don't-" Geta began.

"I actually am watching this empire teeter on the edge of collapse." Julia interrupted Geta, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to darken further than before. "If we do not start moving more intentionally in the direction of change, you and your brother will ruin everything. If you marry this girl, you will marry someone from the very public you've been so often accused of dismissing. This girl is clearly capable of not only earning our family greater public favor. But she would be your bride, and you two together would have a better chance of making sense of this empire than your brother. Caracalla cannot be allowed to overpower your rule, Geta. Do you realize how close that idea is to becoming our reality?" Julia was insistent. "You do not have a choice. This has to happen. For all our fates." She was looking right at you again.

You were shaken, stunned, totally unprepared. Just days ago you were living such a carefree reality, all you knew were paints and pleasure by way of the emperor's hands. But now all of a sudden, all of Rome's fate depended on if you stayed standing here or made a break to sprint for the door.

"Get out." Geta pointed, coldly dismissing his mother. She began to argue back, pleading his name to listen. "Get out! I command it!" Geta was fuming, rage becoming his entire essence. You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut at the boom of his voice. You heard a guard approach to see the royal mother out of the door. She went without a fight, but insisted Geta had no choice, insisting she was already making plans to assure this fate for the both of you. As one guard saw her out of the room, the other followed, leaving you and Geta alone in the room with the ugly wallpaper.

The fire stayed crackling in the corner. The table stayed dirty. Geta began to pace, like he did, hands on his hips, head shaking in an effort to make sense of things.

"You are quiet." He spoke up, softer than he had spoken all night.

"I am choiceless." You warbled. Hadn't this already happened to you? Hadn't you already been forced to wed a man for the betterment of some kind of future? You thought you'd already paid your dues. You thought freedom was supposed to be promised at some point. You thought you'd had it, just days ago. But even still you were captured by the powers that be. It wasn't like you were opposed to being Geta's bride. But you were rocked to realize it didn't matter what you wanted, in this life. It was just going to keep happening to you, against you, despite you.

You watched as Geta sped up his pace, thinking. His eyes danced as if to keep up with an invisible coming together idea. And then his moving stalled. He rolled his shoulders and let his eyes rake up your figure, like they so often did. Geta's brown stare bore into yours, as if to search for an answer to a question not yet asked.

"You claim to have been born to die." Geta gestured, sauntering closer. "I claim to have been born to rule. But we have failed to consider what there could be to live for. I have reason to believe my answer to living lies within you." His speech was imploring. He meant it. He only ever spoke with authority, by that you weren't surprised. But by his meaning, by the tenderness in it, you were. "As ruler, I shall make the final decision regarding my mother's demands. But... I shall also wait here in silence as you choose your fate. I will command no guard after you should you flee. This time, this wedding, you'll be allowed to choose."

"Should I flee, will there be fines? Will I forever be in your debt somehow?"

"I shall see to it that you owe nothing to this empire if you leave it. But you must leave it entirely, you must go far from here. It's the only way I could make these guarantees."

"Should I stay..."

Geta loomed closer, until his breath fanned across your face. So close you could see the golds speckled across the brown of his eyes. Close enough to kiss.

"I would see to your value." Geta breathed, stalling an inch before you. "Your profile on coins. Your voice heard above others. Your throne... My bed... I'd see to it."

Your heart hadn't stopped pounding since this conversation spun to life. But it beat harder yet, at Geta's tone and implication now.

"Take my hand." Geta held an open face palm before you. "Or turn away." You glanced to the door.

You considered all that lie beyond it, the quiet, the vastness. The race to the finish line of life would be slow and steady outside these doors. Your freedom would be quiet and lonely. Then you turned to Geta and saw a different kind of future to consider. And then a thought dawned on you. What if the freedom you'd always been in search of, was not just yours alone? What if an entire empires fate had always been pressed into the back of your heart, clear in the front of your mind only now that you understood everything Julia had said. You thought of your latest painting. The one with the sheep and the sunset. You wondered if maybe it was a sunrise all along.

Your hand flexed, knuckles deciding between clenching and raising up. Until suddenly your palm was in Getas. Until suddenly your fate, and all of Rome's, had been sealed.

///

Part 2 Coming Soon...

#joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #geta x reader #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #fem!reader #joe quinn smut #minors dni

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shotgunbunny · 2 months

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*•.¸♡𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩, 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩♡¸.•*

[𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

pinboard│playlist│dividers│word count: 7k+│not proof read│𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤?

warnings: weed/ oral f and m receiving/ public oral/ exhibition (slightly.)/ degradation/ praise kink/ smut/ p in v sex/ pure sweetness and fluff

The first thing you noticed was that he was leaner, cooler than the others, better than how he was described. Dressed in his dark navy blue compression top and black combat pants. His pink lips were full with a blunt between them and his beautiful blue eyes had a red haze in them. The way he was sat was just so casual and dominant, his legs spread and his back slouched against the ugly red sofa with his muscular arm resting around the back. His phone was waiting on the sofa’s arm rest and he ignored every notification that pinged at his phone. He was far more interested in you, in how you didn’t seem to fit the scene. You were in your friends basement, Claire. Her bother Chris was sat in the single chair with his head tilted towards the ceiling. The couple, Ethan and Mia, was sat in the corner kissing and cuddling while in their dazed state. Then sat on the floor was Carlos and Jill, best friends but one was pining for the other. Claire had told you all the gossip about these people, including the fact that she had a huge kiss on Jill and as you look at her it’s easy to see why. Her hair looked soft and her eyes charming, a clearing of a throat breaks you away from your analysis. You gaze back up and see it was the pretty boy who had first caught your eye, he was demanding your gaze back on him, your attention in the subtlest of ways. This was Leon. The guy you had heard so much about, how he hid his sweet side beneath a personality of sarcasm and coldness.

“Who’s this?” Leon’s gruff voice says as his eyes observe you, admiring your cute trainers and white leg warmers before letting his eyes trail up to your cute lilac skirt and your long sleeve green top that clung to your body. His gaze stuck on your hands for a moment, noticing your scrunching the material of your sleeves up in your hand. You were nervous. Claire smiles, “This is the sweetheart I’ve been telling you all about!” Claire chirps before she glares down at Carlos, “Hey! That’s my spot and you sparked up early, loser.” As Claire continues her bickering with Carlos about who sits next to Jill, Leon clears his throat catching your attention again. When you finally look up to him, he pats his thighs and moves his head to usher you to sit down and you follow the silent command immediately.

Just as you reach the sofa, his big hands gently cup your hips and he guides you to sit on his thigh, you plop down onto his thigh and swing your legs. He keeps an arms around your waist before he moves his other hand to tilt your chin to face him. “So what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place full of losers like this, Buttercup?” You heart hammers at the sweet pet name he slips in and you look around the room, observing the people around you. You turn back to Leon with a pout on your glossed lips “Hey, I don’t think anyone here is a loser, you’re all unique and cool in your own way.” You mutter to which Leon chuckles, his thumb rubs against your bottom lip. “Cool? How are we cool, Buttercup?” He practically purrs to you. “Well, Chris is strong and his music taste is awesome and fun plus he’s a biker, his motorbike is so coo. Claire is just fun and she has an awesome red leather jacket, Carlos has awesome fashion sense. Claire always shows me the belt buckles he wears. Jill is pretty and super relaxed. And Ethan and Mia are a great couple.” You babbles and Leon hungrily eats your words up, hooked on your every word in his high state.

He smirks, his eyes turning mischievous, “And what about me, Buttercup?” He whispers against your ear. You blush and when you try and turn your head away, Leon’s move his hand to grip your chin making sure you can’t turn away. “Ah-ah-ah Buttercup, c’mon you can tell me.” He continues to purr at you. You shyly glance back up into his eyes, “Well, of course you’re cool. You seem so mysterious but nice, ‘n your handsome, and so chilled out.” You mutter out in a small voice and within seconds a grin is plastered on Leon’s face. “What’s your number, Buttercup?” He coos and you shake your head. Leon tilts his own at your refusal, “Why not?” You bite your lip and play with the ends of your sleeves again. “Well, you’re attractive ‘n stuff. I just don’t wanna be played or get attached.” Leon snorts before throwing his head back laughing. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as you listen to his melody of joy.

His half lidded eyes stare at you, “Buttercup, that’s not gonna happen.” He says firmly but the hint of a smile still on his face. He grabs his phone and opens it, he grimaces it. “Y’see Buttercup, if I just wanted to use you I’d ask for your social media. But I wanna know more about you. Wanna take you out and buy you pretty things. So, what’s your number, Buttercup?” He was so dominating but soft with his words you couldn’t help but pull your phone out and give him your number. Within seconds of adding your number to his phone he texts it to make sure it’s you. He hums happily. “So why are you here, Buttercup? You don’t seem the type to get high.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you settle into his la. The ambience in the room is so relaxing, some music plays in the background while everyone has their own conversations. “Claire invited me, and I was just curious y’know? Just wanted to see the gang.” He hums in response. “Well, I’m glad. Feels more complete with you here Buttercup, feels balanced out. 4 guys, 4 girls. But you’re gonna be my girl, right?” After a few second of you not responding, he cranes his neck to gaze down at you, “Right, Buttercup?” You blink out of your little stupor of admiring the group and return to looking at him. “But ‘m Claire’s girl.” He tuts at you. “No, she’s Jill’s girl. Just like Carlos and Chris are too. Mia is Ethan’s girl. But you? You’re my girl.” His voice leaves no chance to deny or squabble with him and you just nod. “Good girl.”

You and Leon stay cuddled up on the sofa getting to know each other for the next few hours. You babble to him and he listens intently making notes about you in his head. He was love struck, you were his absolute opposite but instead of shying away or avoiding him, here you were sat on his lap swinging your legs while idly playing with his fingers telling him about your family and your hobbies. And in return Leon would tell you about his life, how he’s a cop and how he didn’t have a family as they passed away in an accident when he was young. You hugged him tightly when he spoke, pulling his head to your chest so he was left resting his head against your breasts as you stroked his hair cooing to him and he revelled in the attention and the soft touches. A pretty girl taking care of him with tender touches and sweet words, he could get used to this. He could get used to you.

As Leon is coddled against you, both of you rambling away happily to each other, his high was wearing down but his feelings for you didn’t. He felt safe and content here, like you were made to calm him down, like you were becoming his new drug. Something he could be addicted to without having to worry about his health or getting into trouble with. His eyelids flutter open as he gazes up at you, “Please take a chance on me, Buttercup. It feels right when you’re here. Don’t let my looks deceive you.” His eyes are pleading, begging you to not overthink him and instead keep him safe in your arms. You run your hands through his hair, “okay.” You whisper and a soft grin spreads across his face and he cuddles back into you.

He listens to your heart beating and the gentle lull of your breaths mixed with the sweet sounds of your voice as you talk to him. He could drown in you, in how magical this moment was to him. He adored you within the first meeting and he didn’t want to part with you. But sadly the time did come and when you shifted Leon from your embrace he growled. “No, Buttercup I’m comfy.” He rumbles to which you giggle. “I have to go home, I have curfew, sadly.” You murmur and Leon’s grump demeanour quickly shifts to a hopeless look. As you stand up, he follows suit and wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles into you neck. He was like a puppy, desperate for your attention and desperate to keep you. “Promise me, Buttercup. That you’ll call me up and let me take you out on a date.” He nuzzles his head into you neck and you laugh softly. “I promise my little puppy boy.” You tease to which he faintly bites at your neck leaving a small imprint of his teeth indented on you, marking you as his. “Call me puppy again and I might have to howl at your window until you let me in,” He smirks down at you. You pull away and kiss his cheek before heading to the door and flashing him one last smile, “I’d let you in.” You murmur and the door closes behind you.

You stuck true to your word and 3 days later, Leon was outside your house on his motorbike. He was dressed in his black pants, a tight black t shirt and a leather jackets, a helmet adorned on his head hiding his handsome face from your eyes. As soon as Leon sees you he pulls it off and reveals a bright a grin on his face, he shakes his messy blonde hair. You giggle at him and walk over to him, but he beats you to it by taking long strides towards you. “I hope you don’t find me too keen that I scare you off Buttercup.” He murmurs as he places his hands on your hips and mumbles down to you. You can’t wipe the smile forming on your face from his sweet confession, You places your hands on his forearms and gaze up at him. You stand on your tiptoes and nuzzle your nose against his, “I am just as keen.” You whisper to him and he chuckles in response. “Well ain’t I lucky.” He says with a smug grin on his face, he places a small kiss to your nose and pulls away.

“Damn, Buttercup! You look amazing.” He coos down to you, admiring your white summer dress that ad thin straps and stropped at your thighs. You smile bashfully at him and he quickly returns to you and holds your hand, “c’mon give me a twirl.” He murmurs and holds your hand up high. You giggle as you spin for him and he whistles. “I don’t know what you did to me, but I want you doll. ‘S like I’m sick and you’re the only cure.” He mumbles to you as his gaze is utterly transfixed on you. You bite your lip at how blunt he is, it was like he was your fever dream. “Is it a bad thing?” You ask tilting you head and he just responds by throwing his head back laughing at you. “Never. You’re a disease I’ve been waiting for Doll. I want you to leave me bed ridden with shaking bone and flushed cheeks.” He says it so easily, the innuendos easily seen but you can tell he means it in every way.

He coughs and walks to his bike, “Anyway, I said I’d take you on a date and um-” He hands you a pink helmet, something a man as grungy and dark as him would never have. “I um painted it, kinda hoping you become my permanent passenger princess.” He murmurs and you giggle. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” He beams at you and his baby blue eyes gleam. “Yeah?” He asks almost shyly, “Yeah.” You confirm and place it on, you strut over to him. You pull up the screen of the helmet and gaze up at him, “Y’know, we’re definitely moving fast. Hold back the love confessions for a few months.” You tease him and he smirks and slings the screen of your helmet back down with a flick of his risk. He straddles his bike and you follow suit, wrapping your arms around his muscular torso, you can feel every abdominal muscle he hides under his tight shirt and you can imagine his smirk already getting even more smug. “Fast is what I do, Buttercup. But for you, I’ll take it slow. Don’t wanna love bomb you.” He says underneath his black mask.

He starts the bike and pulls off the side and soon you begin to drift with him on his bike. You flash through the streets with the sun beaming down on you and the purr of the engine rumbling between your thighs creating a delicious little tingle. Leon smirks already imagining the effect his bike is having on you, so he throttles it making the bike roar and he speeds down the road, focusing on his directions but his mind drifts off to the idea of how wet you panties are and how they were dripping all over his seat. He groans at the thought and changes his direction, and drives you both to the woods. As you stand off the bike and peel the helmet off, you gaze up and see Leon tearing his off and throwing it down. Before you can question him, he rushes to you and pulls you to a gathering of trees, barely any sunlight gets though and you doubted anyone could see you.

Leon’s large hand frame your hips as he pins you against a tree, he falls to his knees panting his once vibrant blue eyes now dilated and nearly black. He gulps as he gazes up at you, “Can I?” He whispers shyly and you blush but nod, “Words please, Buttercup.” He pleads, a vision on his knees before you begging and pleading to hear your voice and to let him take something that he’s desperate for. “Yes.” You murmur and Leon’s head disappears under your dress, You can feel his sweet kisses being littered on your thighs leaving little mark against your skin. His hands fall down from your hips and under your dress too. He grabs your panties and drags them down and you lift your feet up for him.

You let out a gasp as his hands slide to your ass and he squeezes it before he buries his head between you folds. He groans as you let out a whimper, he licks between your folds, tasting you. You watch how his shoulders slump and for a second you fear you’ve done something wrong but those thoughts are quickly silenced by him letting out his own moan of pure pleasure and he begins to eagerly lap at your pussy. Your cunt drenching his tongue, your thighs shake and shiver and he squeezes your ass again as he latches onto you clit, bullying it with his tongue lashes and kisses. He suckles on it desperately and you whine before moaning and folding over your hands landing on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You whimper and you feel his tongue exploring your hole. He licks against your walls before he moves back up to nuzzle his nose your clit.

You cry out as your thighs tremble again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you cum hard and he laps up every drop, like a man who had been walking the desert for years without a drop of water. You whimper at every tender licks and he pulls away. His face is flushed and his eyes are still black, yet despite his lust he remained a gentleman and pulls your panties up. He stands to his full height and you rest your head against his chest and his arms wrap around your smaller frame. His hands gently stroke your hair. “Thank you, baby. Taste so good, could get drunk off your perfect, little pussy.” He whispers down to you, you whimper how crude his words are yet he said them so soft.

You can feel his bulge against your hip and your innocent eyes peer up at him, you bite you bottom lip as he looks down at you, “Can I?” You whisper and he crumbles, “Are you sure, baby? Don’t wanna overwhelm you or ruin your pretty makeup.” He mumbles his hands grazing your cheeks. “Please? Wanna practise and Learn.” His resolve snaps, he pulls his leather jacket it off and lays it on the floor, “Don’t want you hurting or dirtying your knees.” He mumbles. As you’re getting on your knees, he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants before pulling his zipper down. His pants fall to his knees and you gulp gazing up at him shyly. Your delicate fingers slide under the waist band of his boxers and you pull them down slowly, you watch in wonder as his cock slings out. He was painfully hard.

He leans against the tree panting already over how erotic this was, he lets out a choked gasp as your fingers gently trace the veins on his cock, from the base all the way to his tip. You gently pull the foreskin back and gaze at his thick, pink tip in wonder. “Fuck, Buttercup. I’m about to cum over your damn face with your soft, little hands.” He grumbles out. His eyes are focused on your solely, and you lean forward and place a small kiss to his tip. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hands from where you’re holding it from the base. His hands catch in your hair and pull it into a sloppy pony tail. “Wrap your lips around it baby, gently.” He mutter and your wrap your puffy lips around it. Leon whimpers and you wish you could bottle that noise up and repeat it in your mind forever.

You ben to work your mouth up and down his cock, using your hand to move up and down to meet where your lips don’t meet. And soon you’re in a rhythm of sucking his cock and tongue lashing his tip, just like he did to your clit. He pushes your head gently down your cock and you gag, but Leon lets out a delightful little moan at the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock. He repeats this action being careful to not hurt you or make you throw up. Your eyes are teary as you gaze up at him, all while your nose is buried in his pubes, your throat tightening around his cock. And the second Leon looks down at you, the noise that leaves his lips is heavenly. He cums down your throat before you pull off his cock with a wet ‘pop’.

You stand up and swallow his cum, grimacing at the taste and texture but you knew you’d get used to it one day. He tucks his cock away and pulls his pants up. Once he’s finished buckling his belt, he strides quickly towards you and cups your cheeks and kisses you. His lips moving against yours desperately trying to find a way to make you feel as amazing as he did. He breaks away for air but places his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve you, pretty girl. Haven’t even kissed you or taken you on our first date and you’ve made me cum. To fucking good for me.” He mutters.

You smile, “Could say that to yo-” He immediately cuts you off, “No, doll. This is different. You’re innocent, baby. I’m not. And you just rocked my world. You want me to spoil you, yeah? Let me.” He begs and you shake your head. “Let me, Buttercup.” You sigh, “On one condition,” You murmur, “Anything, baby.” He whispers earnestly. “Can we get a bottle of water first? My throat aches.” Leon lets out a bark of laughter and wraps his leather jacket over your shoulders and then slings his arm over your shoulders. “Absolutely Buttercup.” He coos.

Hours later, The sun was coming own ad the evening darkness was crawling up the streets but it didn’t matter as you and Leon were tucked in an underground bar. There were a few other couples around but none paid any mind, you were all far too wrapped up in your own romances. And at the moment you and your romance were gathered around a pool table, the balls were scattered around. You lean against the pool que and pout at Leon, “This isn’t fair you’re like really good! This is our fourth game!” You whine and he walks over to you. His hips knock against your ass, he makes you bend over the table and he folds on top of you. He directs the que in your hands, his mouth breathing against the shell of your ear, “Focus, baby.” He whispers and you shiver. He draws the que back for you and pushes it forward and hits the white ball and you pot 2 other balls.

Leon stands up and beams down at your proudly and you squeal in excitement back up at him. He can contain himself but lean forward and press his lips to yours. He moves softly and slowly against you, trying to taste your joy in that moment, he wanted you to share that feeling with him so you did and moved your lips against his. He pulls away, “Haven’t I let you win all four games?” He muses, his lips brushing against yours as you giggle. You nudge him away with your hips and return back to the game. All while Leon directs you and holds you, any excuse he jumps at it. He was desperate to be around you.

When the games finished he pulls you to his side, his gaze scanning you. Trying to memorise every part of you, from how your pretty eyes flash with happinesses, to how amazing you look. He was hypnotised by you, completely and utterly at your mercy. He wishes he could have this memory as a drug, his forever moment, your first date together. You watch as his eyes are filled with contentment, how fast his heart beats under your small hand that rests on his chest. You two were completely and utterly in sync with emotions, how they rose up and crashed inside you like the ocean that was trapped in Leon’s eyes.

He rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me,” he mumble, “Tell me this was the best date you’ve ever been on and you want a lifetime more and I will happily provide it. I can’t give up this. You. I haven’t felt this happy- no complete- no- I haven’t felt like everything was so perfect...ever.” He whispers and your heart aches. You close your eyes and press your head against his, embracing this sentimental moment. “This was the best date ever, give me all your dates, and I’ll give you an eternity more. This feels like the universe is finally right.” He chuckles and brushes a lock of hair from your face, “Had to out do me, huh? A lifetime of dates versus an eternity of dates. Damn baby, you got me beat and begging on my knees just so I can be near you.” He confesses and you giggle. “This is just the honeymoon stage thou-” He presses a finger to your lips.

“Yeah, and it means that in the future when we’re not in this stage it is still going to be the most wonderful thing. Even if we fight, it will always be good. You said it, I’m like a damn lovesick puppy, I’d follow you everywhere even when we hate each other. I’ll always follow you.” He whispers and your heart melts. He pecks your lips, “C’mon lets get you home. I do actually wanna take you on an another date and I wanna be in your parents good books.” He chuckles as you both begin to run to his bike, an almost silent race between you that he would obviously let you win. Always.

Of course, after that Leon was desperate for another date, for more time. And within two days you were on your second date. Riding on the back of his bike again in the pink helmet he had decorated just for you. Your arms were tucked around his waist tightly again as you flew through the scenery. Old friends seeing you cuddled up on the bike of the brooding guy they had so often thirsted for, and here you were riding freely with him while he was obsessed with you. Leon was a well known cop in the area, a sweet guy that served his community and made sure peace was secure. Grandparents loved him, and parents did too it seemed.

You had heard your father speak of Leon’s good deeds, but only a few knew of him breaking the rules. Of letting a few stragglers go, smoking weed. But in all other means, he abided the law and adored his job. And you did too, especially when seeing him in his uniform, he was hot and dangerous with a belt looped around his hips and a gun attached. The threat was sexy but the man was so soft you could never comprehend him ever hurting a soul. Even though his hands were calloused and rough, the way his touch was gentle and almost shy made your heart flutter.

As you daydreamed you had hardly realised that Leon had stopped and parked. He hops off his bike and pulls his helmet off, he shakes his messy blonde hair and grins down at you and offers one of the very same rough calloused hands you had been thinking about. You slide it into his grip and are gently pulled off the bike, his hands leave yours for a moment and he places them on the helmet and gently tugs it off your own head before hanging them off the handle bars of his bike. No one would steal them because of Leon being a sweet cop everyone knew him and what e rode so they would never mess with his bike. His hands frames your face and stoke your cheeks, “Hey Buttercup.” He murmurs and you beam up at him like seeing heaven’s light. And at that moment Leon can feel his heart melt he leans down and kisses your nose. He soothes any stray hairs on your head before sliding his hand back into yours. “C’mon doll.”

He begins to tug you to a brightly coloured building where loud fun noises swell out into the car park you are walking through. You scale your eyes up to analyse the building, seeing pictures of coins and ways to win, it was like a candy fun land, as you look up at gaze at the huge neon purple and yellow sign your eyes go wide with awe, it says ‘ARCADE’. You squeeze his hand and squeal, he just kept out doing himself and all you could do is give heart eyes to the man. You begin to skip, practically dragging him along with you and he can’t help but chuckle as he jogs to catch up.

As you step inside you’re greeted by flashes of colour, teenagers and couples and children. A place where many went too gamble but in a safer way, you walk further into the arcade looking down at the navy blue carpet that had a disgusting design but in this environment it fit perfectly. Leon follows you and grabs the classic paper cup which you put your coins in and empties a small money bag of coins into it. Leon had come prepared, he didn’t care how much he spent today just as long as you were happy. The reason why was because he felt bad about doing sexual things so fast while you guys hadn’t even been on your first date. Despite you reassuring him that it was fine and that you still had fun, through texts, he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted to win you a big plushie in those scam grabber machines. He was determined to make it happen.

Soon you and Leon were playing Mario Kart and you couldn’t help but giggle at watching his tall and big frame tying to fit into the seat. When he did eventually you were red in the face from laughter then the games began. Whilst trying to play the racing game, you both had a smaller game going on, ‘Who could distract the other the most?’ It was simple at first, you’d poke his side and he’d tickle you back but it progressed to you playing footsie and kicking his feet off the pedals and then he back to squeeze your thigh and began to slide it under your skirt. Eventually the game ended and you were panting at his teasing, despite it all Leon had let you win. You had come in 6th while he came in 7th and your heart races with love and joy, He had let you win.

You continued around the arcade trying to shoot hoops to which you were terrible but Leon loved watching your tits bounce as you jumped. When his turn came he began to shoot perfectly getting hoop after hoop. He had on so many tickets for you and after his round you both decided to team up, Leon’s front was pressed firmly against your back and as he kept getting the balls through the net you would gather than and hand them to him, and when the time was nearly up his hands held yours and together you both scored the last hoop. You couldn’t help but squeal and kiss his cheek. Leon was now your ticket carrier and you decided you’d get something at the end.

You traversed to the air hockey game, but this time Leon wasn’t going easy. You couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from your lips when you managed t score a goal against him. But for once he had one and his prize was a kiss form you which he eagerly accepted, how could he not? Having your lips against his was close to going to heaven and he’d take every second of his religious moment that he could. Eventually you looped ack to the grabber machine and pointed at fluffy gold wolf plush. He raises and eyebrow and you flash him an innocent smile, “What? It reminds me of you. ‘m gonna called him Leo,” You coo and within seconds Leon is loading his money into the machine.

By the end of the day, Leon had won you your mini Leon Plush and at the counter you both decided on getting matching bracelets and a huge bunny plush. It was a perfect date and at the end you sat outside on a bench eating greasy fries and giggling together. This was beyond perfect to you both. The sun was settling and you were sharing and stealing fries from one another as you gushed about the day and joking around. You knew that this was inly the beginning and you couldn’t wait for this fairytale romance to continue. It would never end not when life could be as beautiful and happy as this.

Seven magical months had passed and you two were beyond close, You had confessed your love to each other while camping underneath the starry sky. It was no mystery now that Leon as no longer a bachelor for the town, he was head over heels for you. To the point you had began to sleep over at his place. You clothes were beside his in his drawers and your big bunny plushie he had won you was laid in the middle of his bed. He was always waiting for you, always eagerly wanting you at his apartment. Everyday after work he would drive by your house and on most days you’d join him and drive to his where you would cook dinner together and Leon was kiss you senseless. The man worshipped you and you worshipped him. Together you were a perfect pair, soulmates.

But the reason you had started staying more often at Leon’s was because of a lot of reasons, but the main one was due to many incidents of you and Leon getting frisky in you bedroom and a family member nearly walking in giving you a heart attack while Leon’s fingers were deep inside you rubbing and thrusting away, almost daring you to cum all over his fingers and your pink bedsheets with someone so close to walking in. He would do it so often, his lust was insatiable. But he was smart and every time just as you were about to paint his fingers with your sweet juices, he would kiss you hard silencing your moan, leaving you breathless and panting beneath him as you came hard.

But the most notable incident that stirred this change was when you and Leon had stated innocently watching a movie together. His hand was rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you were dressed only in one of his t shirts and he was dressed only in his loose grey joggers after along day of work. You gaze coasted up to him and you began to lazily kiss along his jaw, and he couldn’t help but groan. His hands shifted down to your hips and he tilted his head don and caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. His tongue swirls around your mouth and within seconds the beast is loose, he quickly turns you and pins you down on your bed. Your wrist locked above your head with one of his firm hands. You whine and he bites your bottom lip, “No buttercup, we gotta stop before I spear you on my cock.” He breathes out.

You can’t help but squeeze your plush thighs together at his words, “Wan’ that.” You whisper and any sense of control is thrown out the window. Leon sits up his knees and thumbs the waist bands of pants and boxers and slides them down with one quick motion. You watch as his hard cock springs loose and before you can even begin to drool, his hands slide up your thighs and grip the waist band of your panties, “Hips up.” He commands and you eagerly obey and he pulls them off and throws them on your floor leaving them a crumpled mess near the bed.

He pulls a condom from his pocket and you raise an eyebrow and as he rolls it down his cock, “What? Gotta be prepared for fucking your tight little cunt.” He mutters and lays his body over yours like a blanket, you wrap your legs around his waist as he rubs his tip between your folds before nudging at your entrance. He slides into your tight, wet heat and you moan while arcing you back and throwing your head back. He arms cage around you above your head, you watch as his muscles flex and he pants. “Fucking perfect. This fat little pussy takes care of my cock so well. You feel it don’t you? How your tight little cunt wraps around every fucking vein. You were made for this cock, my slutty little buttercup.”

You whimper as he gives a sharp thrust, he smirks down at you. “Eyes on me, understood.” He whispers against the shell of your ear as his hips grind against yours, you can’t help but obey again. Your eyes hazy with pleasure as Leon pants down at you “Look at you, dumb on my cock, Buttercup. S making e so fucking hard,” He groans out and then he leans down and kisses you eagerly and sloppily, your tongues are wrapped around each other as the tip of his cock rubs against your g spot and bullies your cervix. You felt so full and Leon showed no sign of stopping.

You mewl and moan beneath him your eyes closing as he pulls away from the kiss, the string of spit that connects you falls down all over your chin, you were drooling and panting, your body complying to every thrust and drag of his cock. “Painted with my spit, need to paint you with my cum like a good girl, because you are my good girl, right?” You nod desperately and he can’t help but groan as he gazes down at you, as the sound of skin slapping fills the room you both hear the front door open and you tighten around him to which Leon buries his head into your neck and bits down to hide the whimper that leaves his throat. You were both so close to cumming and so Leon gives a few shallow thrusts and clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up, be a good little slut and don’t make another noise, just cum around my cock. Fucking mark it as yours. This is your cock, what you were built for.” He whispers down harshly into his ear, adrenaline running through his veins. When you hear footsteps climbing up the stairs, Leon quickly begins to circle your clit and thrust faster, his balls slapping and he presses his forehead against yours. “My cunt. My girl. My buttercup.” He hisses and gives one last thrust and you both cum.

You don’t have time to clean up, instead Leon quickly pulls his boxers and pants up and pulls you tot sit on his lap, the blanket covering your lap as you watch the TV just as your door opens. You heart hammers in your chest as your mum enters she smiles and waves at you and Leon and quickly babbles about her day and what’s for dinner and you nod dumbly, a little out of from your orgasm a few seconds ago. Leon holds the conversation to seem less suspicious and when your mum leaves, Leon pulls you closer to his chest and showers you in kisses and praises. You couldn’t help but shiver in delight and soon Leon is cleaning up and throwing his condom away, putting your panties in the laundry, cleaning your thighs up and your pussy gently before he puts on some clean underwear on for you ad passes you a drink of water. The only things hat ran through your head was That was too close and from then on, you decided to have sex at Leon’s apartment rather than your princess bedroom.

And of course the dates only got better, from carnivals to quiet cabins. You had gone on so many wonderful adventures together. Your family had met him so many times that they adored him, he was part of the family. He was the most wonderful man, a provider and he supported your hobbies and even drove you to work at the nearby cafe where you were a waitress. Multiple times a day older customers would ask how it was going and you would tell them the truth- perfect. You were out of the honey moon stage and were well into jut being a comfortable and happy couple, but it never dimmed your love and obsession with each other.

And now here you both were, a year later. You had moved in with Leon now, and his apartment was now a perfect mix of you both pink and navy blues mixed with blacks and whites littered the apartment and it felt good. It was home. It was heaven. Nothing could compare to the feeling of walking home from work and into the apartment, having a relaxing shower and beginning dinner just in time for when Leon arrived home. He would pepper you in kisses and whisper words of adoration before telling you about his day nearly pleading at you for you to tell him about your day.

But it came back to now, sat in Claire and Chris’ basement. Claire, Chris and Carlos all sat on the floor surrounding Jill who was talking animatedly. None of them had managed to date her yet and you can’t stop the giggle leaving your lips. They would continue to try and You and Leon had a bet, You bet that Claire would win Jill’s heart whilst Leon said Chris was going to. Poor Carlos, but in both of your defences he was a well known ladies man, a player but he had the sweetest soul. Chris was dressed in black baggy jeans and a heavy metal t shirt and you noted his hair was Cut. Clair had a cute long sleeved red t shirt on and black leather pants and she looked amazing, her hair was in a claw clip and she had some eyeliner on. Carlos just had his grey sweats on and a black t shirt, he was definitely trying his best but you noted that he had started to take care of his curls and his hair was beautiful and healthy. The leader, Jill, say in navy blue jeans and a black print t shirt, she was stunning without even trying.

But your attention was quickly pulled away by a clearing of a throat, but it wasn’t from the sofa like the first time, instead it was from right beside you. You turn your head and there he is, his eyes already red and a dopey grin on his face. His hair his fluffy and despite the red and dilated eyes you can still see that beautiful ocean blue colour shining through. He was dressed in his black compression t shirt and some black jogging bottoms. And you were dressed in one of his t shirts, it had long sleeves and feel to your knees. It was a black, long sleeve t shirt that had a cool goth design of death on it. Matched with some white thigh highs and white trainers, you hair had little white bows.

Leon gently guides you to the sofa where you first ever saw him and he sits down first before gently pulling at your hips and pulling you onto his lap. You swing you legs and look around before you see Mia and Ethan again, both of them whispering sweet nothings and making you awkwardly before sharing a blunt. Leon pulls you closer and he rests his head on your shoulder. “We’re back, Buttercup.” He whispers. You nod and idly play with his fingers, “We are,” He hums, his eyes dazed from the weed and from sentimentality. “My girl,” He mumbles and you remember when he first staked his claim on you.

So much had changed yet nothing had, it seemed mundane but it was so peaceful. The plumes of smoke fill the air and Leon presses a small kiss to your pulse points. “I’ll never forget when you first walked in, dressed so damn cute, what else was I meant do baby? Not fall in love with you? And you were scared I’d play you-” He snorts and bursts into laughter, “Not ever gonna happen. Prettiest girl, with the best personality. Best pussy, Funniest girl, Sweetest smile, Kindest eyes. Ain’t another girl like you.” He rambles and you kiss his cheek, getting your lip gloss on his cheek. His eyes light up and the dopey smile grows wider. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met. Thank you for letting me date you.” You whisper.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “Don’t thank me. Was never gonna say no. That’s just dumb, only wanted you. Now I have you and I’m never letting you go. Gonna marry you, have kids anything and everything. ‘S me and you,” He coos and you kiss him slowly and softly as his hand creeps up your thighs and squeezes it. You smile and peck his lips again. “I love you.” You whisper. “I love you too.” He responds.

As you continue your idle babble together, watching your friends fight for affection and love you can’t stop yourself from repeatedly reflect on how it all started in this room. From a single glance and Leon being a stubborn and jealous pretty boy desperate for your eyes on him, after all he had his eyes on you from the second you walked in. You’re snapped out of your trance from shuffling and a clang, Leon huffs having dropped his lighter. You lean down and grab it and Leon puts the joint back in his mouth, “C’mon. Spark me up, Buttercup.” He mutters as the joint wiggles between his lips. You leave forward and light it up for him. “Anything for you, puppy boy.” You coo back, your first ever nickname for him and he smiles. Nothing could be more perfect than this.

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ovaryacted · 3 months

Text

TIME CRUNCH

PAIRING: DBF! Joel Miller x fem! reader || WC: 2.7k

SYNOPSIS: The Miller household is hosting a neighborhood barbecue for the 4th of July with your father on the grill. While you're there, you steal a couple of minutes to get much more than beer and cooked meat.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. [NO OUTBREAK] SMUT. Age gap implied (Joel is 36, Reader is 21+). Kissing. Oral & Fingering (f receiving). Panty stealing. Bathroom shenanigans. Beer drinking. Allusions to secret established relationship/messing around. Joel is down bad & calls reader several pet names. Descriptions of reader wearing a dress & mini skirt. No use of y/n.

A/N: Hi hi. I don't know how this happened, but it just did. The idea came to mind yesterday and I sat down and wrote the whole thing in one sitting lol. Anywho, it's just some fun silly smut with DBF! Joel being a simp cause I love him like that. I imagined HBO Joel specifically for this one so this is a win for Pedro Pascal fans. Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! Not-beta'd cause I'm just real like that. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

The sun scorched the streets of Arlington, and the heat wave warning issued across the state of Texas did little to reflect the overwhelming weather. Coincidentally, it was the 4th of July, a seemingly exciting day for most patriotic Texans and Americans nationwide. You didn’t care much for the holiday, but it was a great excuse to enjoy the day off.

Your father had other plans. He hoped to use most of the weekend to crack open a cold one and fire up the grill. His good friend and neighbor offered to host a celebratory cookout at his place with mutual buddies tagging along, and with the newly available free time, you didn’t have any excuse to reject the offer.

You found yourself in the backyard of the Miller’s residence, a home you’ve grown quite familiar with over the past few years, and especially since coming back from the college semester in Chicago. Initially, you had travel plans for the summer with friends, but your luck struck out when you landed an internship opportunity in Dallas, and your father was more than glad to welcome you back home.

It has been a busy summer for you since the beginning of June, and the prospect of a four-day weekend was too generous to pass up. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to be a face you saw regularly when returning to Texas, but you didn’t complain. Actually, you were much more content than you should be, and his close friendship with your dad only served as a better excuse to have him around more often.

Nursing a bottle of beer, you brought the lukewarm tip to your lips, sipping away at the tangy beverage as it washed down the thirst settling in your throat. You watched from afar as your dad was in his element, operating the grill like a soldier would his post. He flipped the burgers and poked at the hotdogs with ease, the black smoke surrounding him as he continued to cook.

“Meat’s looking nice.” You told him affirmingly with a smile and a hand on his shoulder, passing him a fresh bottle of beer.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.” He said, graciously accepting the bottle and taking a drink, sucking his teeth at the bitter taste. Miller Lite, it wasn’t his preferred Budweiser, but it will do the job. “Sun’s beating down on my back, though. Not easy to grill in this heat.”

“You’re handling it well, bearing the burden for all of us.” He laughed at that, gently kissing the top of your head in paternal affection.

From your peripheral, you observed Joel coming into his driveway, returning from a pitstop at the grocery store for extra hot dog buns and more beer. His younger brother Tommy strode ahead, carrying the buns in one arm and a bag filled with chips and salsa in the other. Behind him, Joel carried a large box of beer in his grasp, your sight trailing down his forearms to peek at the veins that protruded his skin.

His long legs sauntered over to the coolers near the tables, decorated in red, white, and blue embellishments. Sarah Miller came scampering towards her father, dragging Tommy along to reiterate a joke he had mentioned, playfully teasing her uncle. The next time Joel raised his head, his brown eyes landed on you, prolonging his gaze for a second more and giving you a charming grin before you looked away.

By 2 pm, other residents in the neighborhood and long-time friends of the Miller household flooded through the backyard, busying themselves with eating your dad’s cooking and drinking more alcohol. Some of Sarah’s friends had stopped by, engaging in the girlhood tradition of exchanging gossip or whatever the young kids spoke about in this day and age.

Every few minutes, you’d glance over to Joel to see what he was doing. Whether he was refilling the cooler, jesting with his brother, setting up the stereo, or even reminiscing with your dad, your eyes followed him wherever he went. As elegantly as possible, you approached the pair, politely stopping your dad’s conversation with his friend.

“Going to the bathroom. I’ll be back, Dad.” You told him, darting to Joel and meeting his eyes again before turning your back and walking towards the kitchen.

Stepping through the yard door to reach the stairs, you quickly trekked up to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door. Freshening yourself up in the room, you glimpsed at your reflection to fix the cleavage of your dress, making your breasts more prominent. A minute goes by, and you find yourself waiting.

And waiting.

At the three-minute mark, you hear a knock at the door, two firm taps followed by three smaller ones. Before opening it, you hid behind the door, allowing Joel’s broad figure to enter the gap and step inside. The click of the lock broke the tense silence in the room, and your lower back was pinned against the edge of the bathroom sink with Joel’s rough hands on your hips.

“Took you long enough. Thought you wouldn’t come up.” You muttered to him, his lips quickly leaving a trail of kisses over the side of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry darlin’, your dad wanted to have a chat,” Joel said hastily, his mouth occupied with tasting the skin of your collarbone as your hand rubbed the hair on his nape. “Been thinkin’ about you since the other night.”

You beamed at Joel’s comment, the genuine tone of his voice brought comfort after hearing his confession. You didn’t know how this “relationship” with Joel happened if you were willing to call it a relationship to begin with. He wasn’t supposed to be this close to you, to know you so intimately, but the way you’ve inhabited his mind since returning to Texas was almost too much to bear.

He drove you home one late night from a club downtown, not wanting to bother calling your dad or worrying about taking an Uber alone. Ever the gentleman, he kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel, trying his hardest not to skim at your bare thighs when your mini skirt shifted higher up your leg.

You thanked him with a drunk kiss on the cheek, drawing away only to have his thumb caress your chin, luring you forward to mesh your lips against his own. The memories of that night were fuzzy, but what you remembered most was the feel of his hand curling around your neck and his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt, molding you to the length of him until you ached and woke up in his bed the next morning.

That happened a month ago. It was meant to be a one-time thing, an accident after too many tequila shots at the bar. But the convenience of having a capable man like Joel across the street was something you wouldn’t find back on campus. It couldn’t be so wrong to fuck your father’s best friend, not when it felt like reaching a high every time he made you cum.

“If you don’t say anything, I won’t either, and your old man never needs to find out. This stays between us.”

He told you that after the second time you “accidentally” slept with him, and since then, you have been around Joel whenever your father wasn’t paying attention. Having to dodge your dad along with Tommy and Sarah on Joel’s end wasn’t easy, but it was doable. You’d usually meet him late at night when you were free, opting to have fun in the backseat of his truck. When you both had the luxury of time, you’d spend the day at his house when Sarah was having sleepovers or when your dad was out of the house.

Any time you weren’t at work, or Joel wasn’t busy juggling his job and caring for Sarah, you spent it with him. So far, your summer has gone much better than you expected.

“You just saw me two days ago.” The smirk on Joel’s face was infectious, his signature dimples poking through as he feverishly kissed you again.

“Still not enough, and your dress ain’t helpin’ my case.”

“What’s wrong with my dress? Thought you liked it when I got dolled up for you.” The lightly colored sundress was a simple addition to your wardrobe, throwing it on for the barbecue. Despite the tame silhouette that hugged your figure, the low neckline sent all the blood in Joel’s body rushing south the minute he saw you on his front doorstep.

“Oh, I like it very much. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck you the way I want.” He pressed his hips into your lower stomach, the dark denim of his jeans doing nothing to conceal the bulge hidden underneath.

“How much time do you think we have before they send over the search party?” You asked him, gasping when you felt a soft nip behind your ear.

“Five minutes, maybe eight. Your dad’s busy makin’ ribs, and everyone’s occupied downstairs for now.”

Joel maneuvered himself down to his knees, playing with the hem of your dress and raising it to your hips. His fingers grazed over the panties you wore, placing an affectionate kiss on your sensitive mound before tugging them down your smooth legs. He helped you step out of them, discreetly shoving the damp cotton into his back pocket to save for later.

“You said we had five minutes.” Your breathless voice began to betray you, and you felt him grip your thigh with a large hand to set it over his shoulder.

“That’s all the time I need. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, yeah?”

That was the last thing he said before he licked a languid stripe over your pussy, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle the mewl that threatened to spill out. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his dark tresses, keeping him in place as he feasted on you like a man starved.

“Fuck, Joel.” You moaned under your breath, huffing out an exhale and tossing your head back in pleasure. He hummed in reply, spreading you wider and nuzzling his face deeper between your legs, the hair on his jaw scraping your inner thighs.

Joel quickly learned what you liked, how you wanted your pussy to be treated, whether it was by his hand, his tongue, or his dick. Precise circles on your clit, diligent sucks around the sensitive nub, and two thick fingers curling inside to hit the textured spot tucked in the very roof of your entrance. He paid attention to all the signs that would signal the best way to make your body convulse under his touch and excelled in doing so.

Nudging the bridge of his nose against your bundle of nerves, he tilted his head up to wrap his plush lips around it, pulling a suppressed whimper from you with a roll of his tongue. Your hazy eyes opened to watch Joel, maintaining his ravenous gaze and bucking your hips, greedily seeking more friction.

“That’s right, baby. Take what you need.” He mumbled against your folds, increasing the flicks of his tongue and dipping two thick fingers deep inside you, bending them just right.

The warmth that simmered deep in your belly intensified, coursing through your veins and rushing to the center of your body. Your knuckles turned white from tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, and your throat bobbed to stop yourself from crying out Joel’s name. You were so close, so fucking close, whining as you quickly reached your climax. He didn’t need a warning, already familiar with the cue of your walls clenching around him when you were about to spill over his hand.

Joel gave you a blunt suck and drove the tips of his fingers further inside with practiced precision, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your legs shook from the force of it, his hand on your thigh holding you steady as he coaxed you to ride the wave all the way through. With a gentle yank of his head, he parted from you, placing one last wet kiss on your oversensitive clit before standing up straight with a grunt.

The dopey smile plastered on your face said all that needed to be said, and Joel took it in with appreciative eyes. He brought the two digits that he used on you to his mouth, cleaning off the remnants of your slick without shame. If you two weren’t on a time crunch, you would be on your knees repaying the favor.

“You’re insane. You know that, right?” You expressed with a laugh.

“It ain’t my fault you taste better than the cool beer downstairs, sweetheart.” He kissed you then, the leftover taste of your arousal on his lips made your head fuzzy and your body pulse. “You should go back before your old man wonders where you went.”

He dropped the hem of your dress back down, smoothing out any creases while you adjusted the neckline and fixed up the rest of your flush appearance. The plan was simple: you walked out first, and Joel followed a few minutes later with some eloquent excuse to use for cover. Surprisingly, it usually worked without a hitch, you two had this down to a science after all.

“I’m still seeing you later tonight, right?” You almost didn’t want to ask him that, afraid you’d seem too eager for his attention. But he was always there with the reassuring answer you wanted to hear.

“Yeah, baby, you will. I’ll come by and grab you. Now go, I gotta take care of this.” Joel gestured to the obvious tent in his jeans, your hand reaching for it to caress him with your palm. The rumble of a groan vibrated through his chest, kissing him once more and moving to the door. He spanked your ass before you slipped out of his grasp, turning back to catch his cheeky expression and leaving him in the bathroom to tend to his own needs.

You strolled back into the backyard with a pep in your step and found your dad setting aside a fresh round of cooked hot dogs and burgers for the crowd. He drenched the ribs in a concoction reminiscent of barbecue sauce, closed the grill to leave them to cook, and saw you closing near him.

“You alright, hun? Got worried the beer hit you the wrong way for a second.” Your father’s eyes were full of concern, soothing him with a shake of your head. If only he knew where his best friend’s mouth had been a few minutes ago.

“Nah, the beer is just fine, promise. How about a bite to eat? I’m hungry.”

Munching away at your burger, Joel returned to the yard just as you expected, with no hard-on and more charcoal he was allegedly looking for in the garage. You eyed him as he spoke to Tommy, accepting a new beer bottle and taking an ample sip. He knew you were paying attention to him despite his face remaining neutral, but his eyes told you another story, something only meant for the two of you to understand.

A calm breeze swept through the backyard and up your legs through your dress, forcing you to remember that you were bare underneath the flowy material. The culprit had the evidence safely tucked in one of the drawers of his dresser, away from sight and probably already stained with his release.

You didn’t need to worry, you know you’ll get them back later tonight.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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milkteabinniechan · 2 months

Text

♡The Silk Thief's Embrace - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: perv! Han Jisung x fem! reader

summary: You've been Han Jisung's neighbors for a few months now and he's only spoken a few words to you. But when you invite him over to help around the house, he helps himself to a little souvenir to take back to his bedroom.

warnings: panty stealing, panty sniffing, pervert behavior!! masturbation, humiliation

“On earth; or damned because, half animal, One lacks direct instinct, because one wakes, Afloat on movement that divides and breaks.”

Han stood in front of his bedroom fan as it ocellated back and forth across his body. With the cold air only lasting a few seconds as it swept across his bare skin. Summer had swooped in and landed smack dab in the middle of his apartment complex. The entire building felt like a sauna and Han’s tiny fan was doing little to relieve him. The one solace he had, however, was seeing you. Thursday was laundry day. So he knew that meant for just a few brief moments of the day, he would stand with you in a cramped laundry room and talk about your days.

Han gathered his clothes in a small laundry basket and made his way down the hallway towards the laundry room. It was still early and he knew you wouldn't be there yet, but he was hoping to snag the two good machines that actually worked properly. He turned the corner to see you already standing at the washing machine. You turned and smiled, taking notice of him almost immediately.

“Oh, hi Han! So hot today, huh?”

You pulled at the collar of your shirt and obnoxiously fanned your face. Your skin was glistening and glowing with small dew drops of sweat. Your hair clung to your forehead, while your cheeks blushed a flattering rosy hue.

Han stood in the doorway for a moment before coming back to his sensing and making his way to you. He loaded up a machine of his own and nodded his head meekly.

“Y-yeah… Hot.” He said under his breath, barely above a whisper.

You continued to fan your face and you leaned actually against the washing machine behind you, your arms bent back at the top like a model on the beach, advertising for beer or sunglasses. Han’s eyes raked over your entire body, his hands still loading the machine with clothes. His eyes trailed up from your legs to your hips. From your hips all the way up to your breasts. Then from your breasts to your lips. Han’s vision lingered on your lips for a moment before tracing back down to your hips. You wore these jean shorts that hugged your body perfectly. Every curve and dip of your figure poured into those shorts like a fine wine.

In another life, I want to come back as a button on her jean shorts.

Han stood up slowly and pressed the START button on his machine. The cycle began whirling and thumping around as the two of you stood in the noise for a moment.

“Han, could I ask you a favor? It's kind of last minute.” Your soft voice cut through the rumble of the laundry machines.

Han perked up, his eyes wide and attentive. He nodded his head slowly,

“Sure. What's up?”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, as if the favor you had for him was something awful or embarrassing. Eventually, you looked back at him with an unsure expression.

“My A/C unit has been acting up and I really don't want to have to buy another one. Do you think you could come take a look at it?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Han’s hands were beginning to sweat more than they already were. His mouth turned dry and the air in his lungs seemed to disappear for a moment. Somehow he willed the words “Yes” and “Sounds great” to come out of his mouth. You thanked him profusely and told him to be at your place at 6pm. You said you needed time to fold your laundry but Han didn't hear that part, his mind was elsewhere and now he just had to wait until 6pm.

Han stood outside your door that evening at 5:58pm. He fist hovered over your door and he stared at his watch. But without warning, you opened the door. You yelped at the sight of Han already standing there but quickly laughed it off. You motioned your hand inside and Han followed you. You started to walk towards your bedroom and Han was soon to follow. He immediately loved the smell of your apartment. The first scent was definitely your laundry detergent, something with lavender and lemon. The next scent was something sweeter, like baked goods. Had you been baking? He loved the idea of you baking muffins and cookies and other sweets.

“Here it is.” You stopped in front of your bedroom window where a large, and slightly rusted, air conditioning unit was wedged into the open window.

Han has recognized the model of a/c unit from his mother's house. She had never bothered to install central air so every summer Han went down to the basement and lugged up this behemoth of a device and placed it snug against the window of his mother's living room. Han looked over your air conditioning unit and gave a firm nod.

“I'll take a look.” He said confidently, giving you a soft smile.

You returned the smile and told him you would just be in the living room if he needed anything. And just like that you were gone. Han stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He looked over the unit before crouching down in front of it. He noticed a small drip coming from the side and decided to follow it to its source. The search led him to a small tube that has been disconnected from the unit entirely.

Han smirked to himself and plugged the tube back into its proper place. He switched the unit on and soon felt the cooling arctic breeze of a functional air conditioner. Still crouched, he turned his body to shout the good news to you when his eyes caught something interesting.

Below your dresser, almost completely out of sight, was a pair of black lace panties. You must have missed them when you were putting your laundry away. They lay there on the carpet, almost calling out his name. Han’s breath hitched in his throat as he took in the sight. He was frozen again and unsure of what to do. His mind was scolding him, telling him to get that perverted idea out of his mind. But his cock… his cock was pleading with him to grab those delicate lace panties and shove them around his shaft. Han shifted a bit in his crouched positions, eyes still fixated on your panties.

“How's it going in here?” Your voice rang out from the living room but was drawing closer.

Han had to make a decision. It was now or never. As you stepped closer to the bedroom doorway, Han reached his hand out instinctively and grabbed for the misplaced underwear. He hastily shoved them into the pocket of his jeans and stood up from the floor.

“All good! Got it working now.” He responded, still a bit out of breath.

You ran over to the A/C unit and breathed in the cold air. You shamelessly moaned from the sensation and thanked Han in an equally breathless voice.

Han walked out of your apartment as quickly as he could. You offered to pay him or even split a pizza but he made up some excuse about needing to get home right away. When he finally reached his own apartment, his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He slid his hand into his pocket and felt the lace material against his fingertips. He groaned low as he slowly pulled the panties from his pocket and brought them up to his face, breathing in deeply.

The first initial contact of your scent flew up through his nostrils and straight to his brain. Every cell was on fire with lust. Desire was pumping through his face and it was all he could do not to whimper directly into the fabric draped across his face. He let your panties lay along the top of his face as he slid his hand down his pants. Any common sense that once occupied his mind was wiped away with the first whiff of your scent.

His hand slithered down past his waistband and found his cock easily like it had so many times before. But now there were already small beads of precum beginning to form and drip out of his needy tip. He was so achingly desperate for you. He could feel it. The way his hips moved into his hand like he was moving into you. He gripped his shaft tighter and picked up the speed ever so slightly. He leaned his head back against the door and imagined you sitting directly on his face. Perhaps he just pushed your panties aside. He imagined each lick he gave you, his tongue also gliding across the fabric of your panties. Just the edge of them, as you rocked your hips with the motion of his head. His tongue flicking and lapping your most sensitive spots.

Your panties shifted and moved on Han’s face as he continued to give his hard cock long, pleasing strokes. He whimpered softly into the material as it made its way to his open mouth. He tongue lolled out of his mouth as your lace panties coated his tongue. Han’s whimpers soon became louder and more pathetic as he tasted you. His tongue swirled around the delicate fabric of your stolen lace panties.

Han’s hand pushed through the final pumped until hot, thick ropes shot out and onto the floor. He let out a low, animalistic growl as he sprayed and covered where he stood. He laid his head back on the front door and sighed heavily. He felt satisfied and disgusting all at the same time. And he couldn't wait to do it again.

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queenimmadolla · 7 months

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to) (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐭)

“No, that’s too gentle.” You advise Eddie, crisscross on the cushion next to him as you watch him gently pat your days-old baby’s back. You’d just nursed Penny—and cried because it hurt—so you’d handed her over to her dad to burp, except he wasn’t doing much burping.

“I don’t wanna hurt her.” Eddie frowns. He has Penny on his lap, facing you while one hand rests over her entire torso, thumb and index fingers framing her face to keep her up right in burping position.

“Well, it’s gonna hurt her if she doesn’t burp.”

Truthfully, you hate that she has to burp because she’s already falling asleep, lids drooping over those big eyes and you know the second she gets the gas out, she’ll be awake.

Eddie knows you’re right and sighs, patting a little more firm, though he maintains a pained wince. He’s not remotely hurting her but this is his baby. The two of you made her, practically from scratch! Penny’s a tiny little thing, so soft and delicate and wrinkly. And she smells good! She’s the most precious thing that’s ever been his and the thought of harming her and making her even remotely uncomfortable causes him great distress.

Then, blissfully, Penny belches.

It’s tiny and soft, sounds a little similar to her hiccups but it’s distinct.

Eddie grins wildly at you, a burst of pride flowering in his chest and you beam right back at him. Every accomplishment as new parents with each other feels like winning the Nobel Prize.

“’Atta girl.” Eddie adjusts his hold on Penny, making sure her little head and neck are supported as he lifts her up, keeping her hovering over him, “Bet my baby’s feeling so much bet-AGUH!”

Eddie’s sentence is cut off on a gag and you gasp, hands flying over your mouth as Penny throws up, the cream colored stream of it trailing across the spit up rag over Eddie’s shoulder, all over the front of his t-shirt and across the lower half of his face. . .and into his mouth.

You don’t even have time to voice your shock when Eddie vomits, bits of it landing on Penny’s onesie, his shirt and plaid pajama pants.

There was only one thing to do.

Your laughter rings out, and it’s hard. The kind that will have your sides aching as Penny stares up her dad with drooping eyelids, ready to go back to sleep as if nothing had happened, as if she and her dad aren’t covered in each other’s vomit, while Eddie stares at her in complete shock and utter disbelief.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

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psychedelic-ink · 5 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x tess servopoulos

genre: smut, modern au, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: you're new to town and tess invites you to go camping with her and joel.

warnings: fmf, threesome, flf dynamics, reader being eaten out for the first time, dirty talk, oral s.ex, cum eating/play, for the sake of this fic let's just imagine they have a very big tent they can actually stand in lmaodfb, things escalate quickly but honestly I just wanted to write some good old smut

a/n: this wasn't originally intended for the amazing @undercoverpena's april showers challenge BUT since I had already written the rain aspect of the fic I thought it would be nice to post this for it 💜

prompt: both/all parties get caught in the rain.

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

Breathing is hard. Walking is hard. Carrying the weight of your backpack is hard.

But, the fresh air, the white clouds above, and the two people you’re with make up for it.

Stopping briefly, you roll your shoulders and stretch, neither of them notice you. Not really. You figure it’s not really important if they do or don’t, it’s not like they’re that much ahead of you, catching up wouldn’t be difficult. You watch them, you must admit, a bit dreamily as they walk the bath they’re clearly so used to walking. You’re still surprised that the seasoned hikers invited you to a camping trip. Tess was the one to approach, she knew you were new and how overwhelming it’s been getting used to the people and the sights. She told you she and Joel would be going on a trip soon and that you should join. And even though your answer had been an eager yes, you were worried about holding them back. Admittedly, you weren’t the most fit and haven’t hiked anywhere in years.

However, your excitement to spend time with not one but both of them had tipped the scale rather harshly. You’ve been harboring a secret crush on both of them, it was hard not to when both of them were charming and witty.

Now, as you walk behind them, you can't help but steal glances at the way Tess effortlessly navigates the trail, her hair swaying with each step. Joel walks beside her, occasionally pointing out interesting plants or landmarks, his backpack seeming almost weightless on his shoulders.

You catch yourself smiling as you imagine what adventures lie ahead on this trip.

You decide to pick up your pace, closing the gap between you and them. As you draw nearer, Tess glances back, her eyes brightening with a genuine smile as she sees you catching up.

"How's the hike treating you?"

You catch your breath and reply, "It's challenging, but I'm enjoying every moment of it."

Joel turns around with a friendly grin. "Glad to hear that. We've got a great spot picked out for camping tonight."

As the three of you continue forward, you feel a surge of excitement. Your legs might be aching, but you can't wait to see where the day takes you all.

Rain.

At first, you thought you were unlucky. You had dreamed of campfire, smores and snuggling underneath the starlight, but with the first lightning strike and drop of water, you thought the two would be agitated, annoyed by the bad weather.

But to your surprise, as the rain began to fall in earnest after setting the tent, Tess and Joel didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, they laughed and exchanged playful looks as they turned their heads up to the sky. Their infectious joy caught you off guard, and despite the downpour, you found yourself smiling too.

Then, unexpectedly, Joel's arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. A rush of warmth floods through you as his lips brush against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Simultaneously, Tess leans in, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. The moment is electrifying, filled with a blend of desire and affection.

Before you know it, Tess and Joel are gently guiding you towards the tent they had set up earlier. The rain continues to pour around you, but inside the cozy confines of the tent, a different kind of heat ignites.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel cups both your breasts tenderly from underneath, the wet fabric dampening his skin. You feel Tess’s eyes on your back, observing, taking in the details of the scene before her. Meanwhile, Joel’s gaze is glued to your pebbled nipples, he slowly drags his thumbs over them, your breath catching in your throat. “Does that feel good?”

“It does,” your eyelids flutter, he repeats the movement, drawing circles this time. His eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“So fucked out already,” he hums. “Our pretty little girl, so shy and hungry.”

Tess stands from where she is sitting and circles her arms around your waist, fingers digging into your stomach, she pulls you flush against her. Your stomach bottoms out as you feel the plump flesh of her breasts against your back. Your lips part, you want to kiss her.

You want to kiss her.

You turn your head, chasing her lips with yours, before your eyes close, you see the mischievous curl of her lips. She pulls away and smiles even wider when you whine. “You’re so easy to tease.”

Opening your eyes, you swallow, your body arches when Joel sneaks both hands under your shirt, lifting the fabric, goosebumps raise all over your skin. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask her, voice slightly shaking.

“Not at all princess,” she drags her lips down your neck. “It just makes it even more amusing.”

Your reply gets stuck in your throat as Joel dips down and sucks one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. He tightly closes his lips around the nub and flicks it with his tongue. Your body jolts, pleasure running through you like the lighting outside. Your head falls over Tess’s shoulder, she lays open-mouthed kisses over your neck, her hands unbuttoning your pants.

“You want him to eat you out?” she breathes into your skin and without looking at either of them you nod. “Have you ever had your pussy eaten out, princess?”

You lick your lips, “No,” you say half ashamed, and swallow. “This’ll be my first time.”

Joel’s tongue stills on your skin and suddenly two hungry eyes come into your view. If you didn’t know better you’d say he looks pissed off. Never breaking eye contact, he continues what Tess started and pushes down your pants along with your underwear, leaving you bare to the chill of the tent. He pushes two fingers between your folds and starts stroking you, you shudder against both of them, and your breath hitches.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he says. “Beg me for it.”

“Please.”

He chuckles darkly, “Oh sweetheart, I ain’t gettin’ on my knees for that. Do better.”

You let out a small gasp as he grips your chin, squeezing lightly. To provide comfort, Tess kisses the back of your neck, however, you can feel her smiling into your skin.

“Please,” you say again. “I want you to make me come, Joel. I want to feel your tongue—I want you to be my first—”

Your lips part for another incoming beg but he’s already sinking to his knees, large hands sliding up and down the back of your thighs. A shudder rolls up your spine. Tess’s hands replace Joel’s, kneading your breasts softly.

His hands finally come between your thighs, gently nudging them so you open wider. You see a flicker of a smile when you do, amused, he drags two fingers between your folds. “You’re soaked, sweetheart.”

“She’s not the only one,” Tess chuckles. “Now get on with it, Miller. I’m impatient.”

He clicks his tongue without retaliating further. You feel the warmth of his breath on your core, and slowly, he presses his lips over your mound, the scratch of his beard making it an exquisite experience. You moan at the touch of his tongue, it moves slowly, circling your clit and going deeper. His nails bite into your skin, the sounds he makes between your legs are downright sinful. Your legs begin to shake.

“Shh it’s okay,” Tess whispers against your cheek. “Just give him a taste and we’ll lay you down, princess. I know you can do it.”

Joel grunts in approval, the timber of the sound making you whimper. His hands slide up to your ass and he squeezes the mounds roughly, pushing you further against his mouth. He licks and sucks, when you feel the bite of his nails against your skin, you finally come undone.

Your knees threaten to give out under you, the only thing holding you upright being the two stunning people consuming you. Tess smiles against your skin, kissing and licking the salt of your skin. Meanwhile, Joel moans rather loudly, licking everything you have to offer as you come, come and come some more. You’ve never felt anything this intense before. The air is knocked from your lungs, your body ice cold yet burning up at the same time.

You’re vaguely aware of Joel standing, the man who was worshipping you between your legs suddenly towering over you. He has a small smile as he leans in, you think he’s going to kiss the slope of your shoulder first but then you hear the soft sounds of two lips coming together. With the corner of your eyes, you see them. Tess and Joel kissing, their tongues sliding into each other's mouth, sharing your taste—

“Fuck,” you whisper, your cunt throbbing. They both smile, lips curving in an almost malicious way. As they break apart, Tess licks Joel’s lips, her eyes find yours.

“Someone’s still hungry for more,” she teases, slowly stripping. “Get on all fours for us, princess.”

You swallow and do as she says. You feel Joel’s large hands cup the mounds of your ass, squeezing tenderly. “Beautiful,” he rasps. “Such a goddamn sight.”

Your back arches into his touch. He drags two thick fingers between your folds as Tess lays down, spreading her legs. Your eyes immediately drop to her center, the soft hair that crowns her pretty pussy. You see her glisten with want and your mouth waters.

“Don’t be shy now,” she smiles. “Have a taste.”

Her fingers curl around the back of your neck and at the same time, you feel the head of Joel’s cock stretching you wide. Your eyes roll as you part your lips, Tess moans loudly when your tongue swirls around her puffy clit. You can’t think straight. Joel buries himself deep holding himself there for a second before pulling back and slamming forward. Your moan into Tess’s cunt, your lips parting away briefly every he pulls himself back.

“Best cunt I’ve ever had,” he grunts through clenched teeth. “How does it feel sweetheart? You enjoyin’ yourself?”

You flatten your tongue against Tess’s folds and moan, your body clenching.

“She is,” Tess answers on your behalf, breathless. “Such a sweet girl letting us use her like this.”

Your eyes close tightly shut, sweat drips down your spine, your body a vessel of pleasure. Every muscle in your body tightens, and you hear both of them groan. You close your lips around Tess’s clit and flick your tongue, her head falls, gushing into your mouth. Joel’s watches intently, his cock pulsing and throbbing, his hand comes against the back of your head and he pushes you further down.

“Good girl,” he growls, the pace of his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Fuck, that’s it, lick her clean.”

Tess moans again, the loud sounds becoming whimpers. You can barely breathe but you don’t care. With one final thrusts you come undone around Joel’s cock, your body squeezing him like a vice.

When the violent shudders of your body become gentle waves, Joel pulls out. Your head falls limply against Tess’s stomach, her hand gently rubbing your neck. A soft gasp leaves you when you see Joel shuffling closer, his cock still hard and glistening. You watch as he strokes himself only mere inches away from your face, the head of his cock an angry shade of red.

You stick out your tongue as he spills himself over your face and Tess’s stomach. Another pulse of pleasure spreads throughout your body. Tess let’s out a deep sigh, gathering some of the come with her fingers, she pushes them between your lips.

“Fuck,” Joel sighs, sitting back on his heels. A small smile forms against your lips as you suck on Tess’s fingers, when she pulls them out, you dip your tongue into the mess over her stomach and swallow every drop.

“Filthy girl,” Tess muses. “And here I’ve been callin’ you princess.”

“Your fault,” you mumble, looking away, your cheeks burn.

Joel leans in, capturing your lips before whispering.

“Don’t pout. You’ll always be our princess.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader x tess #tess servopoulos x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel x reader x tess #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge

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babyblue711 · 5 months

Text

Surrender

(Modern AU) Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aemond Targaryen - Part 2 (read Part 1 Here) Summary: Having spent the week at the Targaryen's countryside estate, you find yourself pulled into an unexpected tryst when Aemond confronts you about your mixed signals. Words: 5K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Threesome, Lots of Sexual Shenanigans A/N: As requested by popular demand, here is Part 2! I think this was the most fun I've ever had when writing a fic. (And please, for the banner, let's pretend Ewan has one eye for Aemond's sake 😅) I hope you all enjoy! 🔥

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Various forms of tension now fill the house and you can’t help but feel responsible. There is a magnetic attraction that lingers in the air between you and Aegon, but your playful text to Aemond had clearly not been well-received; he had never bothered responding and was now resolutely ignoring you. In return, you mirrored his behavior, determined not to let it affect you.

On Sunday morning, Helaena approaches you with an enticing offer: to extend your stay for the entire week. With your laptop in tow, the prospect of working remotely from their opulent estate is exciting, especially since it means you can continue spending time with Aegon.

Luckily, neither Helaena nor Daeron knows about your hookup with him. For the rest of the week, he visits your bed each night and it is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He’s a generous lover, prioritizing your pleasure before his own and his attentiveness afterwards is always exceptional, although he never spends the full night with you. Mindful of Aemond’s text message, you try to tone down your lusty moans of rapture, but you still feel like he knows what’s going on regardless.

On the last full day before you are set to return to the city, you and Aegon make plans to go for another trail ride. However, after lunch he starts to complain of a stomach ache leading Aemond to step in and offer to take you riding instead. This unexpected turn of events leaves you feeling momentarily stunned, given Aemond has been doing a very good job pretending you didn’t exist up until that moment. Despite your reservations, you agree to Aemond's proposal, still feeling a little wary of his sudden change of heart.

“You can ride on Sunfyre this time,” Aegon groans from the couch, referring to his grey gelding, as you and Aemond head out the door.

At first you are unsure of what to expect, but soon find yourself embarking on another memorable riding adventure, only this time with Aemond. It quickly becomes apparent that he shares your love for horses and the great outdoors, if not even more passionately than his brother. You make a bit of small talk as you ride, but most of the time, the gentle plodding of your horses’ hooves and the swish of their tails are the only things that can be heard.

The day was hot and humid, though cooler in the shade of the woods along the trail. A few miles into your ride, you come across a babbling stream with crystal water and decide to stop to let the horses rest and take a much needed drink.

“Thank you for letting me ride Vhagar this week,” you say sincerely, taking a refreshing gulp of water from your canteen, “She’s a good horse.” Aemond offers a small smile, affectionately patting his mare on the neck.

“No problem,” he replies casually, “She seems to like you and, to be honest, she doesn’t warm up to most people. Typically bucks them off within a few minutes,” he glances up to gauge your reaction. “I figured that’s why Aegon had you take her out, so he could laugh when you fell off,” he adds nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw Aegon under the bus.

Your expression falters briefly, causing you to second guess your perception of Aegon if what Aemond is saying is true but you quickly regain your composure.

“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” you manage to say as Sunfyre starts to paw, splashing water everywhere and soaking your boots. You urge him from the stream before he decides to roll in the cool water and Aemond follows on Vhagar; you swear you think you see a small, smug smile tug on the corners of his lips.

As you head back home, the mood seems to lighten and you finally feel like you have a small breakthrough with Aemond. Unlike his brother, Aemond’s nature is more naturally reserved, but you are growing to appreciate his calm demeanor in contrast to Aegon's chaotic behavior. He isn’t as quick to laugh or make jokes either, but you manage to coax him into opening up by asking about his interests, particularly books. He eagerly shares insights into the history of the Targaryen family and their estate, keeping the conversation lively until you reach the barn.

You hand Sunfyre off to the attending groom once more, feeling hot and sticky from your ride, eager to get back to the house to take a cool shower. Aemond falls into step beside you.

“So you and Hel are headed back to the city tomorrow?” Aemond inquires casually.

“Yeah we are, have to get back to the grind,” you say with a sigh, a note of reluctance in your tone. The week spent away from the city, immersed in fresh air and nature, had been incredibly rejuvenating and you weren’t ready to leave just yet. Fortunately, Helaena is also your flatmate, and the prospect of returning to hectic city life isn’t as daunting when you have a familiar companion by your side.

“What are your plans?” you ask him in return, aware of his involvement in the family business and his regular trips to the city too.

“I have a flight to catch to New York tomorrow. Work trip. It’s always hard to leave Vhagar…” he trails off with a slight hedge to his voice and you sense he may have more to share, but something seems to be holding him back.

“Hmm,” you murmur noncommittally, letting the moment ride out, feeling if you were patient, he would speak. It works a little too well. He takes a deep breath before he begins.

“That text you sent a few days back…” he starts and your heart instantly leaps. Oh god, here we go, you think, now deeply regretting how shameless you had behaved in the moment.

“Did you mean it?” he asks curiously, catching you completely off guard. You had thought he was about to scold you and you certainly didn’t expect him to be inquisitive instead. Your previous words seem to swim in your mind: [Join us next time, then?]

Did he think you had been serious? You really had only meant it to tease. Regret bubbles in your stomach.

“I still hear you every night,” he says quietly, gently, not like a reprimand at all, and you continue to feel more unsettled with each passing moment. You blush, embarrassed that you were having this conversation in broad daylight with Aemond of all people.

“I’m sorry, Aemond, truly, I…I tried to be more quiet…” you stammer, trailing off as he takes you by the arm, turning you to stop and face him. You stare up into his crystal blue eye, so much lighter than his brother’s, noticing how much taller he is than Aegon too. Up close, his beauty is so breathtaking, the leather eyepatch that covers his left eye only serves to complement his perfect appearance and intrigue you further. Aemond never spoke about what happened to his eye and you were too intimidated to ever ask.

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off abruptly. “Your offer, did you mean it?” he asks more insistently and you feel like you could shrink under the intensity of his stare. Did you really want to have a threesome with him and Aegon? Cowardly, you opt to take the easy way out.

“It would be up to Aegon, I suppose,” you manage to choke out, feeling confident that Aegon would never agree. The way he possessively devours your body, like he is trying to consume your very being when you are together makes you think he isn’t the type to share.

Aemond nods, seeming satisfied with that answer as he abruptly resumes walking back to the house and you can barely keep up with his long strides. What the hell was that about?

Feeling refreshed from your cold shower, you open your bathroom door, still wrapped in only a towel to see Aegon sprawled across your bed, giving you a calculated stare. Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected presence in your bedroom and he has a look in his eye you don’t think you’ve seen before.

“So,” he says lightly and gets right to the point, “You want to have a threesome with Aemond?”

You gape like a fish out of water as you backtrack. “I - I didn’t say that. Aemond mentioned it to me on the way back to the house,” you mumble, trying not to feel like you’re in trouble.

“Oh really?” he raises an eyebrow, glancing down at his phone, scrolling as if he’s looking for something, “What’s this then?”

He holds out his phone and shows you a screenshot of the message you had sent to Aemond earlier in the week, inviting him to join you and Aegon. Aemond clearly has shown Aegon proof of your “offer”, the traitor. Clearly, your lighthearted jest has taken an unexpected turn and signals have been crossed between these two brothers.

Aegon cannot contain a look of triumph as your guilty eyes flash back to his face. Before you can explain more thoroughly he smirks, “I didn’t know you were also into my brother…”

“Aegon, it was just a joke, I was teasing him,” you try to clarify your intentions and prove you aren’t trying to hide anything, now thoroughly wishing you had been this direct with Aemond too. You didn’t foresee it coming back to haunt you like this.

“Really? Because that’s not what Aemond said,” Aegon counters, “So do you want to? It would be hot watching my brother fuck you,” he adds provocatively and your breath catches in your chest at his words.

So many emotions whirl through your mind in an instant. Shock. Guilt. Bewilderment. Confusion. Hurt that he would give you up so easily to another man. Excitement. Lust. Desire. Simultaneously, another thought tugs at your heart: a mixture of determination and defiance. You had been so sure that Aegon would be the one to tell Aemond ‘no’ and you were starting to question his attachment to you, if indeed there had been one at all. If he was so willing to share you with someone else, perhaps you should make him regret this decision. The thought of making Aegon insanely jealous ignites a spark of mischief within your chest.

“Fine,” you say coolly, lifting your chin. “I’d love to fuck your brother,” you taunt seductively, pretending not to care more deeply about Aegon than you do and deliberately trying to push his buttons, but Aegon only gives you a devilish grin.

“Brilliant. I’ll tell him then,” and with that, he springs off your bed, his earlier stomach ache seemingly forgotten, and bounds out the door in search of Aemond.

You were a nervous wreck the whole rest of the day. What had you just agreed to? You curse your need for revenge on Aegon.

That evening, you opt to quietly observe Aemond, feeling a need to familiarize yourself with the person that you would soon be sleeping with. While Aegon could be abundantly charming when he wanted to be, Aemond was simply grace incarnate. You pay particular attention to his interactions with each sibling: he is tolerant of Aegon’s antics, patient with the youthfulness of his younger brother, Daeron, and generously kind to his sister, listening to her discussions about various bugs with genuine interest, as if her words are the most interesting thing in the world. Coupled with his ethereal beauty, you start to question that Aemond might actually be the better of the two brothers. Boyfriend material flashes through your mind.

At last, you bid the group goodnight for the evening and retire to your room. As soon as you shut your door, you sprint to the bathroom, rushing to brush your teeth, apply more deodorant and fix your hair, trying to make yourself as presentable as possible for perfect, proper Aemond. You aren’t sure why you were doing this; why do you care what Aemond thinks of you so much?

Finished with your “prep”, you put on your usual pajamas, wishing you had brought something a little sexier than an oversized t-shirt and shorts and sit on your bed to wait. Soon a soft knock comes from your door and you know instantly it’s Aemond. Aegon never knocks.

“Come in!” you manage to squeak out, voice unusually high, feeling nervous. Aemond enters, looking entirely unruffled, carrying something behind his back. He approaches the bed and reveals his surprise, holding out an expensive bottle of champagne.

“I figured there’s no hurry,” he remarks casually with a shrug as he opens the bottle and takes a gulp, handing it to you. Feeling a bit unconventional drinking expensive champagne straight from the bottle, you take a sip, enjoying the tangy liquid that runs cool down your throat.

You both sit in the middle of your large bed facing each other, talking softly while taking turns swigging from the bottle. Soon, you find yourself relaxing and enjoying his company, forgetting that Aegon was supposed to be joining you. You didn’t even wonder where he was.

When the bottle is empty, you start to feel properly tipsy as Aemond lays a large, warm hand on your leg. You stiffen instantly, unable to help yourself, glancing up into his intense, one-eyed stare.

“I just want to ask, one more time, if you’re sure you want to do this,” he says with soft sincerity.

This is it. Your way out. You didn’t have to sleep with Aemond. However, you were finding yourself more and more drawn to him as you discovered his admirable traits. You believed deep down that Aemond was genuinely kind, one of those "nice guys," so to speak. Moreover, defiance still pounds in your heart at the thought of making Aegon jealous, if he decided to show up at this point.

“Yeah, I want to Aemond, truly,” you respond genuinely, placing your hand overtop of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and seems to relax, his sensuous mouth curling into a true smile.

“Should we start without him?” you whisper, alluding to Aegon.

“Yeah, fuck him, I’m not waiting,” Aemond replies boldly before grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you across the bed so you’re right next to him. You slide easily on the soft satin comforter and giggle in delight. Aemond’s lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth as you melt into him immediately.

Aemond's kiss ignites a fire within you; while you considered Aegon a skilled kisser, a few moments with Aemond had you wondering who was better. His kiss is effortless, your lips fitting together flawlessly, his gentle tongue playfully exploring your mouth, as you take turns sucking on each other’s bottom lip. You moan softly as you instinctively grasp his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Already you can feel your core getting slick with desire and an ache forming at the apex of your thighs.

Aemond maneuvers you to lay on your back and settles overtop of you, lightly pressing you under his weight and you surrender once more to a new man, but this one you think might be more worthy than the last. Still clothed, you are fully immersed in battling his tongue when you hear a low whistle.

“You fuckers started without me,” Aegon growls, low and deep, and you jump, startled since you hadn’t heard him come in. You break the kiss with Aemond, turning to look at Aegon standing beside the bed, seeming completely unfazed seeing his younger brother on top of the girl he’s been fucking all week. Aemond ignores him completely as he kisses your exposed neck, pretending like there’s been no interruption. You notice Aegon is holding his own bottle of champagne and a bag of popcorn, now grinning like a barn cat that has just caught the biggest mouse; he moves to sit in the corner and waves his hand for you to continue.

You roll your eyes and return your attention to Aemond, who is now sucking a hickey onto your collarbone. You decide to get things moving before you lose your nerve now that you have an audience. You slide Aemond's shirt off, taking a moment to appreciate the contours of his fit physique by tracing your fingers across his chest and along the defined muscles of his back. It's almost like a choreographed dance as you and Aemond smoothly help each other out of your clothes, moving with such synchronized ease that it feels like you're perfectly attuned to each other.

As you remove his shorts, his cock springs free, large and heavy against his thigh. Taking him in hand, you give him a few experimental pumps, making him grunt appreciatively; you find yourself absentmindedly wondering who is bigger, the Targaryen men are clearly blessed in this particular department.

You try to ignore the sounds of Aegon chewing popcorn as you and Aemond settle back onto the bed, completely unclothed now. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind being naked in front of his brother and you take his lead as your heart flutters nervously, still mindful of having a witness. He bites down onto the fleshy part of your breast, sucking with enthusiasm and you don’t even care about the mark you know it’ll leave. He moves on and takes one of your nipples into his mouth next, rolling the other between his fingers as he works his way down your body, finally settling between your thighs and licking your soaked pussy like a lollipop; you both groan with pleasure. You spread your legs wide for him and start to knead your own breasts, putting your body on display for Aegon, feigning more confidence than you felt in the moment. You glance over and see him watching you and Aemond hungrily.

Aemond’s lips lock around your bud and he sucks harshly causing you to buck your hips into his face and cry aloud, your breath picking up as pleasure courses like electricity through your body. You feel him slip a finger inside of you followed by another and he crooks them against your sweet spot all while continuing to suck on your bud like he is trying to slurp the thickest milkshake.

It’s not long before your thighs are shaking around his head as you wail in ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through your core, pussy clenching tightly down onto Aemond’s fingers. You no longer notice Aegon’s presence and you secretly hope he’s burning with jealousy at the way Aemond is unraveling you thoroughly. Aegon clears this throat as you come down from your high and return to your senses.

“I want her on top, Aemond,” he commands from the dark corner of the room. You think Aemond will refuse as he isn’t the type that usually takes orders, and especially not from Aegon, but he lays on his back and positions you to hover above him. Achingly slow, still sensitive from your climax, you spear yourself on his hard, thick cock, sinking inch by delicious inch, savoring the stretch of your soft velvet walls. You breathe through your nose as you try to relax and welcome Aemond into your body, joining as one.

You both groan in unison when you finally sit flush against him, his cock buried deep. He gives you a moment to adjust and lets you set the pace. Knowing Aegon is seated behind you, you lean forward slightly, bracing your hands against Aemond’s chest, arching your back as you ride his cock, letting Aegon get the best view of Aemond’s thick length sliding in and out of your tight pussy, no longer feeling insecure about being watched. In this position, your sensitive bud rubs consistently against Aemond’s pubic bone and you can already feel another orgasm mounting deep in your belly. You toss your hair and moan loudly in pleasure, uttering filthy words to Aemond, knowing full well Aegon can hear you too. You want to leave him without any doubt just how much you are enjoying his brother.

Beneath you, Aemond looks like a fallen angel. His one eye is hooded and dark with lust, the angles of his exquisite face are sharp in the low light, his sensual lips are parted slightly as he pants softly while you move up and down on his length. His luminous blonde hair is splay out on the bed, creating a sort of halo around his head. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.

Spurred on by your passionate words of lust, Aemond grasps your hips and picks up the pace, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you hope for bruises. Taking control, he fucks up into you from below, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. You start mumbling nonstop again, like you always do when you’re about to cum.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock, sweet girl?” Aemond says in a low growl as he watches your tits bounce above him.

“A-Aemond, don’t stop,” is all you can manage as your peak crashes over you with the force of a hurricane and Aemond groans as your pussy tightens like a vice around him. He rides out your climax, sustaining your pleasure as you soar into oblivion. Finally, feeling like jelly, you topple off of Aemond and onto the soft bed, breathing heavily and trying to recover from your second mind-blowing orgasm.

“My turn,” suddenly, Aegon stands on the edge of the bed, totally naked and stroking his hard, thick cock. Now that the two are visually out for comparison, you think Aemond’s might be a tad longer, but they are both just as thick.

Your brain feels fuzzy, swirling with endorphins from the rush of your climax. Despite your haze, excitement pulses through your chest when you see that Aegon has finally come to play, hoping he got tired of watching Aemond fuck you so thoroughly. Although being with two men at once is entirely new territory, you trust them completely to take care of you properly and not abuse their positions of power. With a new sense of confidence, adrenaline surges through your veins and you decide to take charge.

“Lay on the bed,” you direct at Aegon and he obeys you instantly, climbing onto the bed and laying his head on your pillow. You crawl over to him, swaying your hips seductively and meeting his dark blue gaze.

“So, did you enjoy watching that?” you purr innocently while taking his cock in your hand and squeezing.

“More than you know,” he manages to respond before you lower your head and take him in your mouth. Maintaining eye contact with him, you put on a bit of a show as your tongue teases the sensitive tip.

Realizing Aemond is watching from afar, you look over your shoulder at him while continuing to pump Aegon with your other hand. You consider him for a moment, impressed with his endurance as he still hasn’t cum himself, despite riding out your orgasm while buried deep within your body.

“Aemond, I need you too,” you whine, tossing your hair over your shoulder and bringing your ass in the air, giving him a pointed look; his lips lift in a devilish smirk.

As Aemond comes to kneel behind you, there is a kinetic sort of energy that passes between the brothers as their eyes meet and you feel a shift as the energy in the room suddenly becomes charged. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you aren’t entirely sure why; all you know is that you suddenly feel like a lamb caught between two apex predators. Undaunted, the thought makes you chuckle; Aemond has already begun to pick you apart with absurd precision and you feel ready for more.

You take Aegon into your mouth again as you feel Aemond spread your ass cheeks apart with a firm grip, taking a moment to admire the view before re-entering you from behind, moving slowly to help you adjust to this new angle. You moan in pleasure as Aemond’s cock hits your sweet spot perfectly in this position. Aegon grunts as your moans reverberate around his dick and you hear him whisper “yeah, that’s it,” as your head bobs along his thick length. With one hand wrapped around the rest of Aegon’s girth that you can’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh, trying to hold yourself steady as Aemond’s hips snap roughly into your backside.

“She really does have the most perfect cunt, brother,” Aemond rumbles, grunting in appreciation as he watches his fat cock slide in and out of you, glistening with your arousal. “You were right.”

“I told you she could be our perfect little slut,” Aegon groans in agreement and gives you a dark smile. You try to ignore the fact that they are talking about you like you aren’t even there. Despite your senses being fully enveloped in a primal sort of lust, you feel a small prick of unease. How much did they discuss about you before today? Have they planned this all along?

You hardly have time to consider further before Aegon takes you by the hair and earnestly starts to fuck your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin as he thrusts in and out. You hollow out your cheeks and try your best to take him, choking at times as his cock touches the back of your throat, all while Aemond continues a steady pace fucking your pussy from behind. Tears prick your eyes and Aegon wipes them away with his thumb, murmuring “good girl” softly and encouraging you to keep going. You watch as his abs contract in pleasure as your tongue swirls around the sensitive tip; you find it becoming more difficult to focus on Aegon as Aemond brings his hand around and starts to play with your bud, rubbing tight, fast circles. Your breath is caught in your chest and you let out a sultry moan.

For a moment, all that can be heard is heavy breathing, grunts of pleasure, skin slapping erotically, and a juicy sucking noise from your mouth as your orgy progresses. With Aemond’s expert attention on your bud, your walls start to flutter again and you redouble your efforts to suck off Aegon, determined that you both should cum at the same time; his breathing is becoming labored and you know he’s close. Within a few more moments, the three of you climax together in unison; Aegon grunts as his girth pulses in your hand, shooting his seed down your throat just as Aemond’s cock pumps his into your pussy, emptying deep inside you. He gives your ass a hard slap and you wail once more as mind numbing pleasure courses through your belly as your pussy milks Aemond dry.

Swallowing your mouthful, you collapse, exhausted, onto the bed next to Aegon, completely worn out by your third orgasm. Aegon pants softly beside you and Aemond plops down on your other side, the only one to still seem composed despite the sheen of sweat on his chest from his own exertion.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence as your breathing returns to normal. Aegon rolls to his side and captures your lips between his own. You think he’s just giving you a sweet sort of kiss as a “thank you” for a great time, until he takes your leg and swings it over his hip, reaching down and playing with your sensitive bud. You buck you hips away from his hand and whine pathetically, telling him without words that you are almost too sensitive to touch at this point. He shushes you gently and you feel him reach down to your entrance and gather Aemond’s spend that’s leaking from your pussy, bringing it up and circling your bud with a featherlight touch.

You feel Aemond move until he’s spooning you from behind, trapping you. He brushes your hair to the side as he starts to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses while his large warm hand caresses your back, moving down to squeeze the ample flesh of your ass. Despite your exhaustion, you feel yourself getting aroused again at their attention. Aegon’s skin is burning as you lay facing him, chest to chest, and Aemond is just as hot against your backside. You feel caught between two flames, like you could catch fire entwined around the brothers.

Aegon continues to kiss you slowly, circling your bud, your leg still hooked over his hip when you feel another set of digits come to play at the entrance of your pussy. You flinch slightly, but Aemond doesn’t enter you digitally, instead seeming to gather more fluid on his fingertips. Without warning, you jump when you feel him spreading his spend on your asshole. Aemond hushes you sweetly, kissing right below your ear, as he starts to push ever so gently on your puckered hole.

“Come now,” Aegon whispers against your lips, “You didn’t really think we would be done with you already, did you?” His hand moves up to tightly grip your thigh around his hip, holding you in place as Aemond slowly starts inserting a digit into your ass, causing you to moan and arch your back, unfamiliar with this new intrusion.

“Hmm,” Aemond hums appreciatively, nibbling on your earlobe as Aegon watches your face. The pressure is mounting as Aemond pushes his thumb into your ass and realization dawns that they are far from finished with you. They aren’t going to stop until every last bit of you is sore from stretching around their thick cocks repeatedly; their intention to possess you both at the same time becomes abundantly clear as Aemond works to open your tight puckered hole and you know they’ll continue to cover your body in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises, effectively marking you as their own. They haven’t even begun to truly consume you yet.

“Yes, sweet girl,” says Aemond, an authoritative edge to his tone, “We’re just getting started.”

The story continues in Part 3

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