#I'm a night person and a dark person and a cold person I KNOW it's weird but i thrive november till february let me live

[macabr3-barbi3]

a request, a need, a plea even:

shotgun kiss with human!alastor

ANON I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX SINCE MAY 😭 I PROMISE I NEVER FORGOT ABOUT YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY

The air is cold when you step outside the diner, fingers trembling and goosebumps erupting along your arms. You had claimed it was for a smoke break, but really you just needed to get out of the building for a moment- the loud, boisterous group that had taken up residence at one of your tables had been grating on your nerves all night, and you knew they weren’t going to tip well, so you just needed a break. You had forgotten your cigarettes at home, and your fingers itch to actually hold one between them, but you would take whatever reprieve you could get. 

Gravel crunches nearby, and you turn to see a man step into the alleyway behind the diner with you. Tall, lean muscles and a mop of dark, curly hair, you greet Alastor with a smile as you always did. He gives you a wave, soft and timid as he approaches, like you haven’t had weeks of time to get to know one another on your smoke breaks during work; you from the diner, him from the broadcast station across the alley.

You make polite conversation for the better part of your break, talking about his most recent shows and the reporting that he had been doing on the serial killer in New Orleans a couple towns over. As always, the air is amicable and comfortable between the two of you while he smokes down towards the butt of his cigarette. It was always nice to spend time with him- he was polite, charming, and handsome as the Devil himself. Who could blame a gal for falling a little bit in love?

Your coworker steps out and lets you know that your table had skipped out without paying, shooting a wink your way when she notices Alastor with you, and the need for a nicotine hit increases tenfold; you’re ashamed to admit to fluttering your lashes coyly at him. “Alastor, you mind if I bum one of those off you?” You ask him demurely, gesturing to the cigarette he holds as he brings it to his lips and to the light.

“Ah, haven’t you learned to keep your own on hand after all this time? I’m afraid this is my last one, my dear,” he says, and your heart sinks while you watch him blow rings into the cool air of the night. “Don’t look so put out,” he chuckles, stepping closer and wrapping a hand around your waist- the shock of it prevents you from putting up any real fight against it, relishing in the warmth that greets you when he pulls you into his chest. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t share.” He takes another strong suck of the cigarette and leans down into your personal space, hand coming up from your waist to coax your lips open with his thumb before he slides it into your hair.

He cranes his neck to meet at your height, lips just barely brushing yours before he’s exhaling smoke into your mouth; you inhale greedily, the sweet buzz of the nicotine mixing with something spicy and dark, so unmistakably Alastor that it makes your head swim. He’d never been so forward before, had never even asked you out to a bar or to dance before, and here he was pressing your lips together like it was second nature to share the air in one another’s lungs. It burns in your veins in the best way possible.

The motion is repeated, over and over with the ash of the cigarette dropping down over his fingers as he puffs and breathed them into you. Your own hands come up to clutch at the fabric of his shirt, like without it you might simply drop to the floor. He doesn’t seem to mind the way your lashes flutter every time he backs off for normal oxygen once again, his own eyes half-lidded and dilated with every pass that the smoke takes between the two of you.

His tongue flicks against yours as he pulls away the final time; the cigarette has burned down to the end, and his usual smile is back in place. “How was that?” Alastor asks softly, using the hand that had parted your lips to cup your cheek, gazing down at you in the dim glow of the streetlight. “You think that was enough of a hit?”

“I- I think I might need another,” you manage to breathe out, and he laughs low and dark, the remnants of the cigarette dropping to the ground where he grinds it in with his heel as he holds you close to him and leans in for a proper, smokeless kiss.

[buckgasms]

Ok let's talk about Dark!Cowboy Bucky shall we......

Expect dark themes ahead y'all 🧡

Here's what I'm thinking:

He is a bounty hunter in the early days of the wild west and sadly you have a bounty out on you.

Maybe you were caught up in a crime but you are really innocent, but no one seems to care about a young woman, or the truth for that matter.

You already felt like the unluckiest person on earth, but when you overhear in a bar one night that the infamous bounty hunter Bucky Barnes is looking for a pretty little runaway, your stomach churns. And it hasn't stopped since.

🧭

Bucky hates the rain. It makes things so much harder. His horse is more grumpy and less willing to obey. People don't hang about to share tidbits of information. It's harder to get a drink.

However, it also makes his prey act silly. Especially pretty girls on the run. They aren't made for the rain. And they are so easy to spot, running across open fields in a dirty white dress, seeking shelter in a barn.

He chivves his horse onward, a wry smile on his face.

🧭

You are sitting on a bale of hay, wringing out your hair when you hear a horse approaching. Your blood runs cold as you hear the door open. You dash as quietly as you can into a dark corner and hold your breath as a man walks his horse in, talking to it gently as he guides it into a stall.

He removes his hat, gloves and shrugs off his wet coat.

"I know you're in his little darlin'"

Your eyes widen and you squeeze your arms tight to keep you from moving.

""If you come out now, it'll be easier. I'll put in a good word for ya..."

You debate it, but you can see him through a hole in the wood. And his face, however handsome, is plastered with a cruel smile. You don't believe him.

He huffs after a moment of silence. Looking around the barn, assessing how good it'll be for the night. He sits down and starts running a thin rope through his fingers.

"Gettin impatient now sweetheart... Don't like to be kept waitin..."

You shiver in the cold, your body dripping with sweat and rain. Maybe you could run out while he was distracted? You were pretty fast and you really had nothing to lose at this point.

You took a quiet, shuddering breath before dashing out from your hiding space. Despite feeling the wood of the barn door it was futile.

A tight, sharp object wrapped around your ankle and you felt the floor give way beneath you. You managed to roll over and watched as he dragged you backwards, pain tearing though your limbs as you were pulled along the floor.

"There you are" he mutters, pressing his boot onto your tummy, as he looks down at you. You suppose it would be to prevent you from fidgeting, but you are frozen in fear.

"My, my. Those wanted posters don't do you justice little darlin'. Don't quite capture that pretty face..."

You whimper as he kneels down, starting to wrap the rope around your other leg to tie you together, before looping it around your wrists.

"Please... Please sir I didn't do anything. It's a big mistake. Please...?"

He ties you off with a bow and chuckles. "Oh I know. I'm not as stupid as your neighbours, thinking a little flower like you could be involved in a bank robbery. Fuckin' dumb as hell..."

Your relief at his statement is short lived when he stands up and leaves you on the floor.

"Well then... Can't you help me? Let me go?" You wriggle and writhe, trying to keep him in your eyeline. Maybe he could be reasoned with?

He chuckles and sits himself on a bale. "Well I did think that, but there are two problems. First is that I've been chasing you for 5 days, in a storm and you've kinda pissed me off..."

You gulp, tears pricking at your eyes as he smiles at you.

"And the other problem is, now that I've gotcha, I don't think I wanna let you go."

You let out a shaky sob, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping as you have for many times in the past week, that this is all a dream. When you hear his boot scuff near your head you know it isn't. He kneels down next to you and takes your face gently between his hand and turns you to look at him.

"All I keep thinking is how I'm ready to retire, head up to my little cabin and have a pretty little housewife all to myself. Cook my dinners and have my babies hmm?"

Your eyes glisten as he talks, blurring vision as you begin to panic. You shake your head and mumble a weak 'no'. It makes him tut and squeeze your cheeks tighter.

"I know darlin', you're gonna fight me ain't ya? God knows you don't do anything the easy way huh? It's ok though. I'll have you convince by mornin'."

🧭

Convinced might be simplifying the situation, but by morning you are certainly not putting up a fight anymore.

Overnight as the storm raged outside he took you apart piece by piece. There was no part of your body that was now foreign to him.

He'd carefully removed your dress and kissed you all over. It was almost like a lover would. Sucking and biting gently at your soft skin, leaving marks all over you.

You shout and cry as loud as you can but he just smothers your cries with kisses. You tried to roll away, fight despite your bound state but he just chuckled and rolled you back where he wanted you.

He'd gotten very cross though when you tried to keep him from your heat. He'd had to find more rope to tie you open and spanked your heat until you were red and puffy.

"Wives aren't supposed to hide what belongs to their husbands darlin'. So don't you be hidin' from me..."

He resumed his gentler approach after, claiming your body with unexpected softness, kissing your tears away and praising you for taking him so well.

Hours passed and he barely relented. He let you rest a little, providing you with drink and a warm blanket. You slept when you could but were often woken by his lust, kisses and bites on your neck and chest.

"God you're beautiful yknow? So good for me... You gonna be my little housewife? Let me hide you away?"

He smiled wide when you nod. What else could you do?

I literally couldn't say no....

[queerofthedagger]

it's 7am and already getting light out and it's getting darker later and later each day and I know for most people that's great and I'm happy for y'all but my health/mental health genuinely is best in autumn and winter and I'm watching the increasing light/threat of increasing temperatures like a feral cat hissing at being disturbed I do not fucking want this pls leave me in peace

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[wholoveseggs]

Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[fawnindawn]

the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I know nothing, and even if I did- patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

_

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had snuck into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they end up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from its bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar on my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

[shelbgrey]

She's like the wind (Benedict Bridgerton)

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton x virgin!Reader

Summary: after bottled up feeling becomes too much Benedict finally confesses his love to his childhood best friend.

Warrings: SMUT, innocent/virgin reader, first times, oral(F receiving), unprotected sex, pull out methods, Benedict being a total sweetheart like usual, kinda public sex? But not really(in a gazebo at night).

MasterList ML2

“What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict said to help Anthony, but in the end he couldn't keep his eyes off a certain someone as the words fell out of his mouth. It was words he always believed in, but never had the guts to act upon them.

“That's nice...” Anthony admited. He crossed his arms and nodded. “now if you resight those words to y/n that would be grand”

Benedict rolled his eyes, if it was one thing Anthony never gave up on was his little brother and the girl he considered his best friend.

-present day

It was late into the night, Benedict couldn't get her or the last few months out of his head. Benedict and y/n have always been so close, practically glued to the hip since childhood. A blind man could see the love they shared with one another, the problem is he's never made the move to court her

Whenever he gets closer or the spark becomes too much he backs off with the feeling of unworthiness. Anthony never fails with the snide comment about Benedict admitting his feelings.

That night he truly felt he messed up. He had gotten wrapped up with someone else after sharing a kiss with y/n months prior. He wanted everything to be more than alright, he wanted to have the courage to tell the only woman he truly loved that she is the only one he could ever want.

Benedict gave up on getting any sleep and walked out to the backyard. That's when he saw her on one of the swings alone. His heart skipped a beat, even in darkness and in her nightgown she was still unimaginably beautiful.

“You've been avoiding me…”

“I'm not avoiding you…” y/n sighed, avoiding eye contact and gently swung on the swing.

They had been avoiding each other, or y/n had been avoiding him. She had thought he loved her as much as she did him. Y/n had found out he's been sleeping around with someone else. I guess she just lost hope on a future with him.

Benedict let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He watched y/n swing for a few moments, the silence around making his heart beat faster than normal. The only sound was the creaking of the swing sets and the wind rustling the trees. He finally found the strength to speak. “We need to talk darling”

“I don't wish to talk to you” y/n snapped softly. She let out a frustrated huff, standing up from the swing and got back on it. This time she was standing on it with her back to Benedict, she didn't care if it was childish.

A frown came to his face as he saw her turn her back on him. He had to hold back a chuckle seeing y/n standing on the swing set, he thought it would be cute if he wasn't trying to earn her forgiveness.

Benedict took a step in front of y/n and stopped the swing with one hand. “You can be mad at me all you want darling, but we're talking about this”

“Of course I won't get a say in the matter” I said frustrated.

Benedict let out a sigh, placing his hand on the tree next to the swing, blocking her in. “you never had a problem speaking your mind to me before, so speak your mind”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I'm angry at you! You're the most intelligent, most dim-witted person I ever met, but then again I must be beating you on that one because I was dim-witted to think you could ever see more than your best friend”

He was surprised with the coldness in her voice, his heart broke at the thought of all the pain he caused her. “Darling, you think I can't see all that? you're the most beautiful, kindest, and smart woman I have ever laid eyes on. I see all of you, I always have”

“Why don't I believe you?” y/n asked in a heartbroken tone, trying to keep herself from tearing up. “bloody hell, do I actually mean anything more to you?”

“You do darling, you mean more to me than anyone else. You always have!”

Benedict's heart ached at the brokenness in her voice. He could see the pain in your eyes, the sight made him cringe in regret, wishing he had just spoke to her about his feelings instead of going off with the other girl.

“Please look at me” reached his free hand out, moving his fingers gently against her chin. Y/n looked away, tears pricking her eyes. “don't speak words you don't me... Especially don't speak words you'll regret later”

Benedict placed a gentle finger under y/n’s chin and finally turned her face to him, it shattered his heart more to see the tears in her eyes. “Please darling don't cry and please don't take what I say as lying”

He hated the silence, all he wanted to hear was her voice and more than ever he wanted to make sure she believed him. He leaned closer to y/n’s face, gently pressing his forehead against hers. He was desperate to make her believe him.

“I've loved you for as long as I can remember. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, something stirred within me, a connection that resonated deep in my soul.

As the years went by, my feelings for you only grew stronger, yet I found myself hiding them from you and from myself. I became tangled in a web of self-doubt and unworthiness. I convinced myself that I was unworthy of your love and strength, that my love meant nothing.

But now, looking back, You filled a part of my soul I didn't even realize was empty, you healed the scars I didn't even know were there. I see how foolish I was to ignore my heart for so long. Believe me when I say you're the thing I want most of all”

Y/n looked into his blue eyes, tears pooling out of her (e/c) ones. “benedict…”

Benedict couldn't bring himself to take his hands off her. He was trying to fight the urge to hold y/n tight against him, but he just couldn't. He lifted his hand up to her cheek, slowly wiping some of the tears away and caressed her skin. He leaned his head down ever so slightly, his mouth a few inches from hers. “Darling, Say you believe me.please”

Finally, y/n pressed her forehead against his, their noses bumping gently together. “I believe you” y/n whispered. Shebplaced her hands on both sides of his jaw as their breath mingled together.

Benedict exhaled heavily, the feeling of their skin touching together was like a soothing fire. It lit his soul with a passion that he had been trying to ignore. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, the sound of it thundering behind his eardrums.

He leaned even closer, only a breath still separating their lips. His eyes searched hers, his head was spinning with a burning desire, barely holding himself back. When she spoke those words that he longed to hear, the last thread of restraint broke. “Darling... Can I kiss you?”

“yes”

He couldn't resist any longer. His hand moved up into her hair, intertwining into the curls as his eyes flickered from your mouth to your eyes. He quickly closed the gap between their mouths. He captured her lips in a searing kiss. It was like a dam broke inside him. It was desperate and hungry yet needy, making her nearly lose balance off the swing she was standing on.

Benedict felt y/n start to stumble and he quickly wrapped one of his arms tightly around her waist as one of her arms wrapped around his neck and kept a strong hold of the rope on the swing with the other.

His lips moved softly but desperately against hers as he kept her from falling. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against his made him let out a small moan into the kiss. He held her in place, deepening the kiss. He kissed her like it was their first and last kiss. His tongue slowly swiped your bottom lip, begging for access.

Benedict pulled her off the swing, swiftly pushing her against the tree next to them. He heard the sweet moans coming from her lips. His tongue twirled against hers, tasting her sweet mouth. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her between the tree and himself. He tilted his head slightly, his mouth moving against hers at an angle. The feeling of his fingertips tracing along her curves made her heart pound against her chest. It made her feel exhilarated, nervous, and loved all at the same time.

Benedict broke the kiss when his hand reached the hem of y/n’s nightgown, his lips then traveled down the side of her neck. The feeling of her skin against his mouth left a trail of hot sparks. He stopped to gently kiss a sensitive part of your neck, his tongue slowly tracing the soft skin.

“w-wait” she, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. “y-you know I've n-never done this before” she whispered softly.

He stared at her with nothing but love as he gently held her hips with both his hands, his thumbs rubbing light circles on her skin as he held her against the tree.

“I know darling,” he replied, his voice low and deep, his eyes never leaving hers. “that's why we're not doing it here”

Benedict gently pulled y/n away from the tree, his hands never leaving her body. He looked into her eyes, watching the mixture of passion and nervousness in them. He felt his heart swell with love and desire for. He could practically feel all his emotions bubbling at the surface.

“Do you trust me?” he held his hand out.

The way his eyes stared into her soul, they were always her favorite feature of his. They held nothing but trust and love. “I trust you” y/n said softly and placed her hand in his.

Benedict felt a spark of electricity. His fingers tightened around hers, his hand fitting around it like a perfect missing piece. He lifted her hand up and slowly kissed her knuckles, his eyes not breaking eye contact. “Come darling, the night is still young”

Benedict led y/n through the yard, their hands never breaking from each other. The sound of their soft footsteps on the ground echoed slightly against the night air. The only other sound was from the crickets chirping in the grass and trees. Benedict led her to the gazebo in the very back of the yard, a spot usually hidden by the darkness of the night. It was a small structure, made of wood, with white paint and wisteria winding around it.

Y/n held his hand tight as they silently walked up the steps, her heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety. He wanted to soothe her anxiousness but he was nervous himself. So many years of loving her, dreaming of this moment, and he still couldn't believe it was finally happening. He stopped when she reached the top of the steps, looking into her eyes as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. His voice was low and gentle. “Just relax darling... It's just you and me here”

Y/n nodded, putting all her trust in him. “I know”

Benedict moved closer to her, his other hand gently coming up to caress the side of her face, his touch was soft and gentle. “You're safe with me darling. I promise I'll take good care of you”

“I know you will” she said softly.

He felt y/n’s hand press against his chest, right over his heart. It almost skipped a beat under her touch. He leaned a little closer, his head slowly lowering until his lips were hovering above hers. “And I promise to worship your body the way you deserve to be worshipped”

Y/n cupped his cheek, kissing him softly as he pressed her back against the pillar. His hands slowly moved to her waist, his fingers gently tracing up and down her curves. He leaned his body against hers, trapping her between him and the pillar.

Y/n moaned softly against his lips, her fingers slowly carding through his hair slowly as their tounges tangled together. Benedict ever so gently broke the kiss and started trailing kisses and gentle nips on her neck. He sucked gently on a spot just slightly below your ear, knowing how sensitive it was. His hands slowly inched higher under her nightgown and lifted you up from under your thighs, carrying her to the middle of the gazebo. He gently layed her down on a spread out quilt Hyacinth left. “are you comfortable here?” he asked softly, she nodded softly.

He knelt down, placing his knees on either side of her hips and leaned over her. He looked down with darkened eyes, slowly inching her nightgown higher. Benedict's eyes traced over her skin as it was slowly revealed to him. He placed his hands on your thighs, his fingers tracing up and down the soft skin. “You're so gorgeous, so beautiful” he said softly, making her blush.

A soft moan left her lips as the cool air hit her exposed skin. He leaned forward, bending over until his mouth was hovering above her stomach. “I'll be gentle, darling. We'll take it slow”

“I trust you” y/n whispered, giving him the green light. Benedict carefully removes her nightgown, throwing it to the other side of the gazebo. He stared down at her innocent beauty, taking a moment to just look at her.

The blush that formed under his gaze only caused his desire to increase. He lays his body down between her legs, his body hovering over her. He closed the distance, making Y/n moaned softly against his lips. She cupped his jaw as his lips clamed hers and gently.

Benedict lets out a low growl, his hands sliding down to her waist as he deepens the kiss. His heart is pounding in his chest. “y/n…”

“Y-yes?” she whisper, her heart pounding against her chest. She stared up at him, desperately wanting his clothes off when she felt his hard erection pressing against her thigh.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming out heavy as he leaned his forehead against hers. He tried to control his breathing but he was failing as all he could think of was just how badly he wanted her. “I need you, y/n. Will you let me make love to you?”

“Yes. God, yes” y/n moaned softly and desperately. Benedict looked down at her, his voice was husky and thick with need. “Tell me if you need to stop, darling. Tell me if it's too much” His hands started their travels again, tracing every curve and every inch of her body.

Y/n kissed back passionately as she started untucking his shirt from his pants. Benedict felt her hands work on the buttons of his shirt. The nervous tremble in her fingers made his heart skip a beat. “Here, darling,” Benedict gently moved her hands away from his shirt. He sat up, kneeling between her legs. He slowly lifted his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere off to the side.

Her thighs clenched together without realizing it. He watched the way her eyes roamed down his chest. The way she lightly touched him sent chills down his spine. He felt his legs jerk when her fingers traced down the V-line of his lower abdomen, his muscles taut, almost as if he was struggling to control himself.

“Darling” He whispered, his hands gently spreading her legs apart. “My beautiful y/n” He leans forward, pressing soft kisses along her inner thigh.

“B-ben” y/n moaned softly, her head fell back in pleasure as he trailed his lips up her inner thigh. Benedict's blue bord into hers, his gaze filled with love and desire. He never broke eye contact as he continued trailing kisses higher until he reaches her soaking clit, teasing her with gentle kisses and licks. “You taste like heaven”

Y/n moaned almost embarrassing loud, feeling his tounge against her fold for the first time. Out of instincted she arched her hips up, gripping his hair. He hums in pleasure at the taste of her, gripping her hips to hold them still. “Let go, my love,” He continues to lick and nip, his face soaked in her release as his tongue flicking at your clit. “You're mine”

Y/n wasn't completely clueless to sex, but the pleasure was intense and all she could think about was him. She moaned and cried his name as a new feeling tightened in her stomach. “B-ben... I t-think” she couldn't speak or think straight. “something is happening”

Benedict looks up at you. He speaks softly, his voice reassuring. “It's okay, my love. You're having your first orgasm” He picked up the pace, licking and sucking on her clit like a starved man. His fingers gently pressed against her entrance, pumping in and out slowly.

Y/n gripped his hair, arching her hips. “Benedict!”

Benedict, licking up every last drop of her release as she rode out her first orgasm. “You're so beautiful when you come, y/n”

He gives her folds one last lick then starts trailing kisses up her body, paying special attention to her breasts and nipples. “I'm going to make love to you now, are you ready?” He positions himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for any uncertainty.

“Will it hurt?” y/n asked softly, carding her fingers through his hair.

Benedict looks up at her, his blue eyes dark and filled with desire and love. “It might at first. But I promise it'll feel good after that. I promise I'm going to be gentle, darling”

Y/n nodded softly, he kissed her back gently, before breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. He positions himself at her entrance, taking her hips in his hand. “just tell me when you're ready”

“I'm ready” she said softly, taking a deep breath.

Benedict starts pushing inside slowly, his face contorting in concentration as he tries to be gentle. “Ah, y/n” He breathes out heavily, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/n wimpered at the slight sting, digging her nails into his back as he stretched her out. “B-Benedict”

He stills for a moment, letting her adjust to his size. “Shh, it's okay, my love. Just breathe” He kisses her forehead softly, his heart pounding in his chest. “You're doing so well” He whispered as he continues pushing inside, inch by inch. Once he was finally fully sheathed inside he starts to slowly rock his hips, trying to ease the pain.

Y/n held on to him tight, her breathing was heavy and she wimpered his name as she adjusted to his size. “B-Benny. Oh god, Ben” she moaned as the pain slowly turned into pleasure. He started picking up the pace, pushing deeper and deeper each time. “You feel amazing, y/n. So unbelievably good”

“Benny!” she moaned into the night, tugging at his hair. He hisses in pleasure, gripping her thighs to move them higher and wider. “Oh, y/n” He groans, thrusting deeper. “You're so beautiful, love the sounds you make”

“C-can you go faster?” she asked innocently. “p-please”

Benedict grits his teeth, fighting against his own desire to obey her request. “Faster, y/n?” He asks, his voice strained. “but ou have to promise me that you'll tell me the moment it becomes too much for you, okay? I don't want to hurt you, darling” He said looking into her eyes, his own filled with a burning intensity.

“You won't hurt me” she said softly.

He nods, his heart racing with excitement and concern. “okay, love” He grips her thighs even tighter and starts thrusting at a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing into the night. “Oh, y/n, you feel incredible” He moans, his eyes never breaking the inten eye contact.

Y/n trailed her hands done his back frantically, looking for somthing to hold onto to and ground herself. He growls at the feeling of her hand gripping his ass, his hips snapping with increased speed. “You're going to make me lose control” He warns, his voice deep and husky. “And I can't have that, darling.Not yet”

“W-why not?” she asked softly.

Benedict panting heavily, trying to regulate his breath. “Because when I lose control, I don't hold back.And I'm not sure you're ready for that, y/n” He said with a serious expression, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and desire.

Y/n grabed his face, cupping both sides of his jaw. She looked into his eyes wirh nothing but love and trust. “it's okay, we're okay to go harder”

He looks back at her, he stutters, unable to find words. His hips snap into hers again, causing him to lose his train of thought. He groans as his grip tightens on her thighs, making her head fall back in pleasure. She moaned his name like a prayer.

Benedict buries his face in her neck, his teeth marking her skin as he speaks against you. “y/n” He chants her name like a mantra, his love for her overwhelming him. “Fuck... You're everything to me” He whispers, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I love you” she moans, her teeth piercing his skin.

He lets out a groan, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. “I love you too, y/n. More than anything” He wraps his arms around her body tightly, holding her as he continues to thrust.

then that close, tight feeling in y/n's stomach hit her again and it was stronger than last time. She moaned his name, gripping his hair “I think…” she shuttered.

Benedict's eyes rolling back as he groans low in his throat. “Fuck, yes!” He thrusts harder now, chasing his own release. “I'm close, y/n” He pants, sweat dripping from his brow.

“I'm so close, Benny” as soon as those words fell from her lips the knot in her stomach snapped. She threw her head back moaning, her orgasm infecting her sences.

“y/n!” He roars, feeling your tight walls clenching around him. The feeling of her coming around him is too much for him to handle, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train. “w-where do you want me to come?” he aksed quickly.

Y/n’s heart was pounding against her chest, her orgasm still hitting her like a freight train. “I... I don't know” she said breathlessly, digging her nails into his back.

He groans. The feeling of her nails on his back causing him to thrust harder into her. “Fuck, Love” He takes a deep breath, his body feeling like it's on fire. “It's okay, I'll... I'll pull out, Darling”

He pulls out, causing y/n to moan as every inch of him slipped out of her soaking folds. He groans, coating her stomach in his cum as he holds himself up. He panted heavily. “y/n, fuck” He looks down at her, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “I need you to look at me, Darling” He gently tilts her head up to meet his gaze.

Benedict smiles, his thumb gently tracing her jawline. “You're so beautiful, Love” He leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back. “I love you. So much”

“I love you too” y/n says softly, making his heart fill with joy at your words. “I'm going to clean you up. You're all sticky. Okay?”

Benedict reaches over her, grabbing his shirt. “hold on, Darling” He gently cleans up the mess on her stomach before wiping between your legs. “when we get inside I'll run you a bath”

Y/n moaned softly as he cleaned between her thighs, the noise making Benedict glance up. His throat tightened at the sight of your beautiful, cum-covered body. “Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?”

“N-no. It felt amazing, ” she said softly, her eyes fluttering. “what we did” she whispered.

He glances up at y/n, his heart swelling with love for her. Benedict watches the blush spread across her cheeks. “You have no idea how much you mean to me” He leans in to place a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling away.

“let's get you inside” he gently picked her up bridal style, making sure the quilt is covering her exposed body. Benedict held her safe and close as he carried up to the house. He was cautious as he carried her to his room in case of anyone who might be awake in the late hours of the night.

[fairysluna]

HERE AGAIN

43. “Go on ride my thigh.” WITH HARWIN

knight in shining armor.

When the Red Keep is attacked, Ser Harwin is the one in charge of your protection. Spending the night by your side, he finds it hard to keep his emotions under control.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Harwin Strong x Targ!Fem!Reader.

TAGS — fluff (a bit too much, I'm sorryy), smut —thigh riding, nipple play, oral fixation, praise, virgin!reader, dirty talk—, sexual tension, descriptions of nudity, mentions of blood and violence, murder. If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — small context: here the dance of the dragons doesn't happen, Rhaenyra never fucked Harwin and the greens and blacks are a lovey dovey family. Long live fanfiction for this. A big, big thank you to @bucknastysbabe for beta reading this!! Ilysm!!🤍

My baby bel, i think i put a bit too much fluff into the mix while writing this, but i hope you like it and enjoy it. Ilyy🤍

WORD COUNT — 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

A thunderous sound woke you up from your peaceful slumber. By looking around in the darkness of your chambers, you could tell something was wrong; a strange atmosphere appeared in the air, something odd that brought an inexplicable chill in your spine. You arose from your bed, walking barefooted towards the nearest window and peeking outside - the cold wind that entered the room sent shivers through your body, causing goosebumps to arise across your skin. It had to be the hour of the Wolf, you could barely see a thing.

There was a group of guards marching towards the entrance of the Red Keep; you heard them bellow, but you were not able to make sense of their words. They ran from one side to another, picking up their swords and shields, giving commands to one another. You grew curious to know the reason behind such a fuss and the answer came quicker than you expected. While you were observing a knight standing beside the arsenal and keeping guard on the perimeter, another man silently approached him- wearing all black, camouflaging in the darkness of the night.

A small part of you told you to look away, but you stood there - eyes fixed on the guard. Curiosity killed the cat.

Out of the blue, the black-clad specter reached for the knight, and before you could discern what the man had done to him, you saw red flooding out under the moonlight - staining his prestigious white cloak. You froze in your place as you saw the guard falling to his knees before his entire body reached the dirt on the floor. The air escaped from your lungs as you witnessed such a gruesome scene, feeling your heart beating frantically in reaction.

It only became worse once the unknown man looked up, right at your window. Right at you, steely eyes glinting.

Immediately, you took a few steps back - your hand covering your mouth and muffling a squeal as soon as you realized what had happened. Chills traveled around your body, and before you realized, your cheeks were soaking with tears of horror and fear. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your chest feeling heavy and tight. That man saw you, he would certainly come after you now.

Your feet kept moving, eyes fixed in the window as you walked backwards, as far as possible from that frightening scene. In that moment, you felt your back hit something cold and hard before two strong arms wrapped around your body and squeezed you between them. You yelped, screaming hysterically with the thought that it will be your turn now - squirming desperately as you tried to be freed from the arms of the person who was holding you down.

Then you heard his voice.

“Princess, it's me!” The familiar voice exclaimed, loosening the grip around your body and allowing you to turn around to see him. He removed his helmet, throwing it onto the floor. “It's me, my sweet princess,” he repeated, this time more calm and with a soothing tone in his timbre. He placed his big, calloused hand on your cheek.

The relief washed over you as you saw your beautiful knight in shining armor standing before you, tense shoulders instantly relaxing as you locked your lilac eyes with his deep brown ones. His gaze was soft, but it still showed signs of his preoccupation for you. His thumb brushed against your skin, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. You leaned towards his touch and he sighed.

“You're safe with me,” Ser Harwin murmured. “Everything will be okay…” His impressive frame towered over your smaller one; you had to look up at him as your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Harwin was taken aback once he felt your trembling arms wrapping around his armor. You hung from his neck as he picked you up from the floor. One of his hands held your waist, while the other went to your nape - keeping you close to him. The coldness of the metal was pressing against your cheek, and you closed your eyes - silently crying against his shoulder. Your heart fluttered inside your chest once he tightened his grip around your body; you felt safe in his arms.

“Shh… it's fine,” he cooed against your ear. His lips pressed against your head. “No one will hurt you if I'm with you, princess. No one will harm you.”

“What happened? What's going on?” you asked between sobs.

“Some miscreants managed to go through the gates, they're now being secured in the black cells. They’re trying to find those who are inside the Keep,” he explained while he slowly put you back on your feet - a soft whine involuntarily left your lips once you stopped feeling his warmth. “I've come as soon as I heard.”

“Is my family safe? My mother, my siblings? Rhaenyra and the children?”

“They are all being guarded by members of the king's guard,” Harwin replied.

You nodded before you took a look around his face, as if you were trying to search for some wound - just in case he needed your help. “Are you hurt?” A little smile appeared on his handsome face once he noticed your worry. “Did- did they hurt you?”

“No,” he answered. “And you shall not worry about me, princess…”

You pressed your lips in a thin line before murmuring - a bit embarrassed, “you know I'll always worry about you.”

Harwin paused to take a look at you; his heart beating fast with the mere sight of you, feeling like a green boy whenever you were around, staring up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes of yours. So beautiful, so precious. It was no secret between you two that your feelings had flourished like roses in Spring. Yet, even when the deep affections were obviously mutual, both of you were scared to act on it. It was forbidden, and - somehow - that made it even more tempting for both. How scandalous, King Viserys daughter has the Hand’s son as a paramour.

“Mayhaps your royal highness should go back to sleep,” Harwin suggested. “On the morrow all this would be just a faint memory.”

“I don't think I will be able to do it,” you told him, taking a step back and wiping your tears away. “I lost all my sleep with what I've just seen…it was awful, terrible…”

Harwin approached you again as he noticed your despair - your voice breaking in the middle of your words and your eyes glistening once again by a layer of new tears. He cupped your face, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks.

“It's okay, my sweet angel,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours - you closed your eyes. His closeness made your heart beat faster, and the syrupy way the name that came out of his plump lips almost caused you to sigh. “Come here, let's sit down for a second, alright?” Harwin motioned.

Obediently, you grabbed his hand as he guided you through your room, finding a comfortable spot in the large settee right in the middle of your chambers. Once Harwin turned around, he finally noticed what you were wearing; a thin see through nightgown. His eyebrows twitched and mouth went dry. He knew that the right thing was to look away, give the privacy you needed - yet he couldn't manage to take his eyes off of you, his lovely princess. He followed a path from your face, going downwards towards your neck and collarbones - he even imagined how they would look with small marks from his lips printed on them. He continued shamelessly eyeing you, finding your breasts; he felt his throat getting dry once he noticed your pebbled nipples peeking through the white fabric of your nightgown. His mouth watered, resisting the urge to think how they would feel against his tongue. Unexpectedly, he felt his pants getting tighter.

That's when he knew that enough was enough. You were a princess; his princess. You deserve the utmost respect. He couldn't allow himself to think of you in that way, especially on a night like this one.

Harwin cleared his throat, sitting down on the couch and tapping the empty spot by his side - once again, you obeyed. Your body curled by his side, clinging into his armor, laying your head on his chest as his arm went around your shoulder to keep you close. You squirmed a bit, trying to make sense of the feeling between your legs - the one that grew more intense once you noticed the desire on his eyes.

“Close your eyes, try to rest. I'll be here when you wake up,” he promised.

You nodded, making yourself comfortable and doing what he told you to do - and you really tried, yet it seemed impossible for you to take that horrid image off your mind. Your whole body would tremble with the thought of being murdered in the same way. Each time you would close your eyes, that was all you could see. It was torturous, a bone chilling fear that didn't let you rest.

That scarlet blood seeping down white cloth played over and over again in your racing mind.

Before you noticed, you were sobbing again. Harwin, chivalrous as always, grabbed your quivering body and placed you on his lap, rocking your body from side to side as a desperate attempt to try and calm you down. It wounded him to see you like this, so scared and defenseless - he even wondered what he could do to make your anguish go away.

“He saw me… he'll come and try to- to kill me!” you whined - your lower lip shaking uncontrollably. “I cannot- I cannot stop thinking about it all.”

Growing up as a princess left you inside a bubble. Behind the thick walls of the castle you never had to watch or see something as such - the evilness of people. Harwin has always told you that you had a pure heart and soul, always oblivious to the wrongdoings of the people. You never knew how cruel people truly were, and now that you saw it you couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Nothing will happen to you, not if I'm here,” Harwin softly whispered. “I will always protect you, my precious angel.”

But then he thought of his words again; he might protect you from the enemies, from the dangers of the world, but how was he supposed to protect you from the torment that was caused by your own mind? How could he possibly make you forget about it?

He knew the answer, but he knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Come here.” Harwin invited you to sit on his lap. In any other occasion you would doubt a bit before assenting to do it, but in that moment all you wanted was to feel safe, to feel him against you as he got rid of all your fears with his mere presence - you couldn't resist.

His hands grabbed your hips as he lifted you up and motioned you until you were sitting on top of him - your arms around his broad body as you laid on his shoulder. His hands went to your head, his fingertips softly caressing your scalp while he soothed you again.

For him, it was quite hard to ignore the fact that the only thing in the middle of your nudity was a thin piece of fabric that did nothing to hide your body. He could see it, but you could feel it. At first you just sighed - the coldness of the metal covering his thigh would touch the heat between your legs, which was growing more intense with every passing second. You shivered, holding back a gasp when you accidentally moved your hips.

Out of the sudden, a thunderous sound similar to the one that woke you up was heard again. Your body jumped due to the shock, and your eyes widened with terror.

“Harwin…” you mumbled his name, almost as if you were begging him to make it stop, even when you knew he couldn't do anything more than stay by your side.

“Look at me, Princess,” he replied, his voice becoming slightly raspy as his big hands went to your hips. You felt how he started to pull your nightgown upwards - he had given up his hesitation to do this, defiling the pure little angel. How your doe-eyes and small body contrasted against his large frame, Strong was ensnared. The knight no longer fought against the carnal urges. He needed to take your mind elsewhere, and this was the only way he could think of. You tried to look down as he kept pulling the only layer of clothes that would cover your body - the only thing that separated your warmth from the coldness of the metal on his thigh, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “Don't look away from me, angel…”

You obeyed, slightly parting your lips as the fabric brushed against your flesh, and once your cunt was laying naked on top of his leg, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Harwin’s honeyed gaze did not tear from your face at any moment, reluctant to see your most vulnerable places. He felt unworthy of it. He wasn't going to see you, he wasn't going to touch your vulnerable petals - he was just going to let you use him as you please.

“Ser Harwin…” you repeated his name in a gasp as his hands moved your hips on top of him. Gentle movements at first, just to see how you would react; that's when you moaned, feeling metal rubbing directly against your clit. It felt odd, but extremely good.

“Don't stress your mind any further,” he whispered, almost feeling breathless. “Forget about everything, just focus on what you feel…”

With your eyes closed, you placed your hands on his shoulder in order to find some stability when he slightly quickened the pace. The whimper that left your lips would be carved in Harwin’s mind forever, haunting his nights and increasing his need for you. You were there, in front of him looking so angelic, yet so sinful - he was tightening his grip on your hips, digging his fingertips on your flesh as a desperate attempt to hold back; the urge to rip that nightgown was almost unbearable. He needed to touch you, even when it was awfully wrong to do so.

One of his hands left your hip, moving upwards until it cupped your face. Your cheeks were burning beneath his touch, too flustered and shy to hold his haze for too long. You weren't stupid, you knew what was going on and you knew what it meant, yet it was hard for you to care when it felt this good.

Involuntarily, you started to move your hips on your own, growing needy and aching to feel more of him. You longed for his hands on your skin, touching every inch of you until his scent was spread all over your body - yet, he denied you of that, too scared of not being able to stop if he got to fondle your curves.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice so deep and husky, almost making you purr like a kitten between his arms.

“S’good…” you whined in response, mouth agape and letting gasps fall from your lips.

Harwin shifted his position, trying to find some comfortable posture that would make him forget about the ache inside his breeches. He laid back on the settee, spreading his legs and letting you place your hands on his chest. You soon started to move your hips again, moaning his name.

“Fucking hell…” he groaned, now getting a full view of your body. “Go on, ride my thigh…” Those words slipped his lips before he was able to stop them. He felt ashamed, but you loved to hear them, driving your pace harder in reaction.

Your eyes opened and you found Harwin looking up at you as you used him for your own pleasure. He sat there, your weeping cunt coating his armor with your slick as you rubbed yourself on him; you quickly noticed how hard it was for him not to look down - not to look at the sinful view of your swollen bud brushing against him. Instead, his eyes remained on your face, lost in your glossy eyes and swollen lips. He was bewitched with the way your face would express the pleasure you were feeling; Blessed may be the gods for giving him the opportunity to see you like that.

His thumb moved closer to your lips, and you were quick to trap it inside your mouth, sucking and nibbling at it while your movements became more intense. Harwin couldn't resist, and he moaned once he felt your tongue swirling around his digit, imagining how that very same tongue would feel on his cock.

“This feels better than your pillow, doesn't it?” He suddenly groaned. On any other occasion, he would be too ashamed to mention that - the fact that he has heard you pleasuring yourself, yet he couldn't help it… the words slipped out of his mouth before he was able to hold them back. “Do you think of me when you do it?” He asked, almost begging to admit it, longing to hear you say it.

Though you were in no position to speak - too overwhelmed already, you manage to mumble a positive answer, humming as you nodded. A little smirk appeared on the knight's face, making him look even more charming than he already was. You felt your body melt in his arms.

With the motion of your body becoming more intense - faster, your nightgown slowly started to fall down your body, exposing your pebbled nipples to the hungry haze of the man beneath you. The struggle inside his mind was killing him, he wasn't supposed to touch you yet his body craved for it. His mouth watered at the sight while you kept moaning around his finger.

“Touch yourself for me, my angel,” he murmured, as if that would cease his cravings.

He removed his hand from your face, grabbing your wrist and relocating it to your breasts. You moaned at your own touch as you pulled your nipples and played with your own flesh. You leaned forward then, pressing your forehead against his, open-mouthed as you gasped when he grabbed your hips to control your movements once again. Harwin closed his eyes, groaning when you whined and mewled.

You sounded so beautiful.

“Come on, my princess,” he breathlessly said. His lips were merely a few inches away from yours. He fought the urge to devour your swollen lips. “Fucking hell… my angel, keep rubbing your sweet pussy against me. It feels so good, doesn't it? Bet you can’t think of anything else…”

“Harwin, I- I feel…”

“Sh… just let go. Fuck yourself on me, use me as you please. Let me help you empty that pretty head of yours.”

Harwin gave one last look at your trembling body before he started to bounce his leg, thick thigh adding more stimulation that almost made you scream. It was too much - the possessive grip around your hips was making it hard for you to think about anything else. You fantasized about him, about his hands, about his mouth… you longed for his touch, to feel huge calloused hands on your silken skin. You wondered how it would feel to have him inside of you, to let him defile your body. You wanted it so bad.

The thoughts soon started to push you over the edge. The metal covering Harwin’s thigh was soaked with your slick, it was slippery enough to fasten your movements until you couldn't hold it any longer. Your body weight fell forward, your hips twitching as your release oozed out of your weeping cunt, his name falling from your lips like a chant - as a way to thank him. Harwin felt his cock aching underneath his trousers, painfully hard, too damn close to coming undone.

“So good, my beautiful princess…” he whispered as he caressed your hair. His touch burning against now sensitive skin. “Bet you're not thinking about that bad man anymore, are you?”

You could only whine in response. Tired, overstimulated, and sleepy.

“Let's get you to bed now, shall we?”

Harwin grabbed your waist, lifting you up effortlessly as you leaned on his shoulders. Ever the gentleman, he fixed your gown and covered your nudity as he took you to the bed. He placed you delicately over the soft mattress and you hummed when he wrapped your trembling body on the silk sheets.

He leaned back then, but you grabbed his hand before he could go further away. “Please, don't,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Stay with me… Lay here.”

“My princess-”

“Please.”

And he couldn't say no.

You heard how he started to get rid of his armor, slowly detaching the pieces of metal from his body until there were just thin layers of clothes covering his body. He cautiously laid behind you - not wanting you to feel the hardness under his trousers, yet you grabbed his hand and forced him to wrap his limbs around your body, feeling the need to have him as close as possible.

Silence fell on the room, just hearing his calm breathing as he closed his eyes and smelled the sweet perfume lingering in your hair. But then, you spoke again.

“Ser Harwin?” you uttered his name so delicately it almost felt like a caress.

“Yes?”

There was a small pause, a moment of doubt. You continued regardless.

“I… I think I might be in love with you.”

Harwin's heart skipped a beat on his chest, and a smile appeared on his face. He felt a joy that he had never felt before.

“Princess?” Now it was him calling your name.

“Yes, sir?”

“I am in love with you.”

TAGS — @islandfantasydream

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[poltoreveur]

Seduction by the Shores

Pairing: Luke Castellan x GN!Reader (implied pussy lol)

Warning: NSFW, set before tlt, smut, PWP, piv, semi-public sex, doing it on the wet ground, dom!Luke to slightly sub!Luke and back to soft dom!Luke, choking, going in raw and creampie (wrap it before you tap it!), slight aftercare.

Word count: 5.3k+ (I got carried away).

A/N: In the wise of SZA, “now I’m ovulating and I need rough sex.” So I'm back again with another fic. Weirdly enough, I reappeared last year just to write a smut fic and leave (oops). I usually have a summary for this, but this is just pure smut.

Edit A/N: Partial credits to supercutsszn (details on why in comments)

!Not readproof! I’m too lazy to reread my own writing.

Everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood. Handsome, generous, and kind. Helps out the new kids. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. You’d even love Luke if you didn’t know better. Maybe you did anyway.

But you've always known there's more to him than his charming exterior. You've seen his eyes change like they're hiding something. That shift happens mostly when his father is mentioned, and he tense up. You've tried to avoid him, but he always seems to find you. One night, he caught you by the lake, his eyes kind but troubled. "I'm guessing you're not having a great night."

For all his charm and charisma, Luke Castellan is more than just the beloved golden boy of Camp Half-Blood; he's a human being with a complex inner world, one that's filled with secrets and conflicts. Despite his best efforts to hide it, at times, his inner struggles emerge, leaving you to wonder just how much more there might be to Luke than meets the eye.

You glanced over at him watching him approach you but kept your quiet. Luke sits down next to you, close, but not touching.

Luke looks at you, waiting for a comment or an explanation. The lake is beautiful, shining in the moonlight. It's actually quite a lovely scene, he's not sure why you'd be miserable here. He has this habit of looking at you without actually looking at you, somehow making it feel more personal.

"I could help with that, you know? Make your night a little more fun."

"Don't start with me, Castellan." You simply commented, rolling your eyes as your gaze stayed staring at the lake.

You can't tell if he smiles or not, but he laughs before speaking. It's actually just adorable when his lips curl up. Luke leans closer, not much. Just enough to make you a little anxious.

"How was I starting anything? I was trying to brighten your mood. I bet I could help."

Something comes into his eyes, a darkness.

His voice is still the smiling flirty guy that everyone loves, but his tone changes a little.

"Besides... you look so miserable. I've always been really good at fixing people's moods. It's one of my best qualities."

He leans a little closer than before. Close enough that you can smell the honey, citrus scent coming from his cologne. You're not sure if he does that intentionally, but he's quite close now.

"Come on now, you know you can tell me. Maybe I could put a smile on that pretty little face."

"You could, but I might have to kill you after." That made him smirk. The way he's looking at you... Oh Gods.

"You can try, you know I'd get you right before you got me, though. I'm too quick." He grinned. He was flirting, he always flirted, but there was something else in his eyes. Something darker.

"Come on, what could be so serious?"

“Not gonna talk it out of me, Castellan." You closed your eyes before lying down on the ground. The ground was damp but it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, finding comfort just lying there.

He smiles and lies down right next to you.

Too close now, too close. You're practically on top of each other but he doesn't pull away.

The grass is very green, the lake is a beautiful dark blue. It's actually quite peaceful here. The air is still but not too cold.

"You're too stubborn sometimes. Why won't you tell me?" His hand brushes her hair absentmindedly. "You can talk to me, even if you don't want to."

"I feel like if someone doesn't want to, they won't talk." You pointed out the obvious, slowly glancing up at him again.

Luke smiles, his hand resting on your head now. He's actually being surprisingly gentle.

His eyes are so hypnotic in this light. His voice grows softer, a hint of that darkness in it still. “I like to make people change their minds. You would talk if I got you into the right mood."

"Not gonna happen."

"Really now?" He leans in just close enough to almost kiss you. He's still smiling, his voice a little bit softer, a little bit more husky.

"You're stubborn." He said, lightly tapping your nose. "I'm stubborn. We can stay like this all night if you want. But I'll stay here to remind you that I care."

Luke pulls back again, smiling at you. He gets a little bit closer though, until his face is mere inches away from yours. He tilts his head at just the right angle to catch the moonlight coming off his blue eyes.

"Think about that." Luke looked into her eyes for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, placing his hand on your head and kissed your forehead.

"Just a reminder."

Luke pulls away and sits up. His hands are resting on his legs now, and he's looking up at the moon.

"What do you think about the sky, you know? The stars. It's quite beautiful. Makes you think about things. Life's so short. Maybe you should do the things you want to do, while you can." Luke chuckles, sitting back down and looking up at the sky. He looks at you for a second, then looks away.

The air is thick with tension. Luke looks at you over his shoulder, with kind of a half smile on his face. His eyes are still that darker colour, but they're softer now. You're not sure why it's so tempting to lay your head on his shoulder.

"The sky is beautiful. You know, most demigods think of it as a symbol of the gods, right? But I've always thought of it as... freedom. I mean, who cares what the gods think?" He said, looking back at you.

"The sky makes me feel free. I'll look at it sometimes when I'm feeling trapped, you know." He glances back at you, expecting an input.

"You think the gods are looking down at us from the sky?"

He laughs a bit, turning back to the sky and looking at it.

"I don't know, maybe? But even so, why should we care if they are or not? I don't get what all the fuss is about the gods, why do so many people at camp obsess over their opinions so much? They're just like any other person, except they have a little more power. They don't really care about us, if they did, then we wouldn't be the ones doing all the important stuff."

“I mean, they say that Jesus is always looking down on us, do you think they meant the sky?”

He laughs again, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"You're really not going to let me distract you from whatever's bothering you, are you? Even when I'm trying really hard." There's another hint of that darkness in his eyes.

"I don't want to think about it, I just wanna lay down and have a relaxing moment to myself, but I'd rather it not be on this damp ground." He knows how stubborn you are. Instead, he smiled and scooted closer.

He's so close to you now, his body is close to yours and he can feel your breath. He just stares up at the sky.

"Where else?" He looks into your eyes. He's enjoying this. You’re falling for this. He smiles. "The lake sounds pretty lovely to me."

"It's wet here."

The darkness in his eyes is getting stronger. His voice is growing husky again, the way you like it.

He can’t help it, Luke leans closer again. He wants the intimacy between you. There is a subtle change in his eyes. He stares at you, and now his hand is brushing your leg.

His voice is low and rough and seductive. “The lake is fine. I prefer it, even. It’s the perfect place for us.”

A hint of a smirk rises from his lip. He knows how much he affects you. You both know exactly what he’s trying to do, and you both want to do it, but he will not let you think you have any control over this situation, he’s always in control.

He leans towards you again, his hand moving further up your leg.

"Castellan." His name came out of your lips like a warning but you said it softly enough for him.

The smirk slowly rises on his lip, and he whispers.

"What, love?" His hand keeps creeping up your leg, his voice sounding almost like a growl. It's such a change from the charming guy you know, and it's so tempting, yet so unsettling. He stares at you, waiting for a response, waiting to see what you'll do.

You can almost feel the dark energy coming off him. His presence is just so dominating right now, he wants this. He is getting closer and closer until he's practically lying on top of you. He's not looking at you anymore, he's just looking down at his hand which is resting just below your thigh. It is not moving up, but you can feel the tension.

He leans up, his eyes searching yours. You can tell that he wants something more than just a little flirting. He wants to see how far he can take this. Luke's hands are going up even higher, brushing her thighs now. He's so close now, you can feel his breath brushing your neck.

The tension builds more and more. He is so close to just taking you right here. You can feel him starting to move his hands to the sides of your back, to the small of your back. He wants this, and he can't help but try. The darkness in his eyes is getting more potent, as his breathing gets heavier and heavier.

He leans in closer, his mouth less than a few inches away from your neck. You can feel his breath. He's waiting. That anticipation, that temptation, is just so intoxicating and it's making him crazy.

The darkness of his eyes fades away as he finally makes a move. His lips come closer, so close, until they just touch, making a soft clicking sound. His eyes close, and his lips finally meet yours, his lips opening slightly to let the kiss linger longer until he pulls back and leans towards your ear.

It was such a soft kiss, nothing more than his lips barely grazing yours. But the heat between them builds when his eyes reopen. He pulls away just barely speaking.

"Castellan."

Your voice is so low, so quiet, and yet so alluring. Luke’s breathing starts to speed up, and his grin gets wider.

He looks down at her with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. His voice is low. "Luke." He corrected.

You only called him by his first name, whenever you’re gonna or when you’re doing it. He was certain you’ve been deliberately conditioning him with it.

Luke's movements slow, his body unweights your body.

His eyes are dark. A little bit too dark. He seems less sure of himself now. Still, Luke's hand is sliding up your thigh. Closer to what he wants.

He's so close to you now. He's moving his hand up and down your leg. Slowly. Almost teasingly. His voice is barely a whisper.

He quickly took the initiative by kissing you aggressively. But somehow your hands making their way to the back of his neck and into his hair.

His tongue flicks into your mouth as his hands grip your thighs, he squeezes tighter. Luke’s breath comes out in short little moans.

Luke is on a whole different level now. He's enjoying this more and more. His eyes are closed as he kisses you deeper. His hands move further up your thighs. This is going exactly how he wanted it to. He's got you completely trapped and submissive at this point and he knows it. He opens one eye and looks at you.

"Do you want me?" He asks, his voice dark and smooth. He's holding himself just on the edge. Right where he wants to be. He stares into her deep sapphire eyes, waiting for an answer. It's a dark question, but he wants to hear it from you.

You simply smirk at his question. You knew that he wanted you to say it, your admission is everything to him. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction as you pulled him closer and just started kissing him again, slowly, biting down on his lower lip.

He groans and then laughs quietly. You weren’t giving him the words he wanted to hear. That was fine. He was going to make you say it.

He kisses you back, harder, faster. His hands are moving under your shirt, tracing the curves of your back and waist.

Luke leans back, his forehead leaning on you. Your breaths are coming faster and faster. Your lips touch when you kiss. He is in complete control over you right now, and he likes that. "You want me? Say it."

"I'm not giving you that power." Your hands travelled down his shirt and slowly went underneath it, feeling the tone of his abs.

His body is still now, but you can feel his muscles tensing as you move your hands.

It's like you're pressing switches that turn a machine on. A low groan escapes his mouth, as his breath quickens again. His eyes close tight as he tries to resist the urge.

His breath hitches in his throat, but you probably doesn't notice that for a moment. His eyes snap open when he can't fight it and he stares at you, waiting for you to admit it.

He's the only person at camp who actually has this level of control. He pushes you back down, his hands going down to your waist now. His breath is almost like a growl at this point. It's pure pleasure to hear that he still has complete control over uou. His voice is soft in your ear now. "Please."

You chuckled and moved down to his neck to kiss it.

Luke tenses again. His neck is his weakness.

He always liked to be in control, and his neck feels like it gives him away. He likes that you found this. "Please." His voice is low but pleading. They both know that he is very much begging you to say it now as his neck is being kissed aggressively.

Luke gasps as you continue trailing kisses down his neck. He tenses again. His breath is heavy in his throat.

The sound alone is like music to your ears. His hands are still at your waist, squeezing a little harder. He likes the feeling of you pulling at his shirt, but he tries to still keep himself on. "Please." His voice had the sound of urgency, almost begging now as his eyes dart to yours.

"I like it when you beg."

That wasn’t exactly what he wanted you to say but his body responds to your voice. His breath catches in his throat again and he arches back against your body. His eyes roll back and another low groan escapes his lips. One of his hands moves up to your neck as he pins you down against him, and starts dragging his hand down your back.

"You'll have to earn that," you purred, licking a trail along his neck that made his gut twist taut.

Luke's body moves away from you. His breath comes out in short but heavy breaths, he arches his back and lets out a deep grunt of pleasure. "I can earn it." He pushes you back down now.

He is taking control again. He kisses your neck passionately, his lips against your neck, his breath almost like a growling moan against your skin. He is moving slowly around your neck now as if he's exploring.

He positioned himself between your thighs. One hand supported your back, while the other fumbled to unclasp his belt.

It was difficult to recall how he'd ever got aroused before you came along. The way you both demanded and begged all at once sent his brain spinning.

Luke's hand is fumbling with his belt, it's not coming undone though. Like him, he's lost control. He's lost control over you, over himself, he never loses control. Maybe that is why he's enjoying this so much. Your presence and your kisses have turned him completely into someone else, someone whose only thoughts are pleasure. He leans forward again, kissing your neck passionately yet again. His breath is coming fast but heavy now. He's completely and utterly obsessed with the feeling.

You smirk before your hand slowly starts to help him undo his belt as well as unbutton his pants.

His head arches back slightly and he lets out a low groan again. "Yes..." He whispers softly. His breath is heavy in his throat. He takes a look down and is startled to see she is helping him undo his belt. Now he is almost completely submissive to you. You’re the one in charge now, completely at your whim. All he wants is you.

"Say please," you whispered, nipping his lower lip as he pulled your pants hastily down to your ankles, impatient as he is, he moved your soaked underwear to the side. “I like it when you ask nicely."

Luke is almost embarrassed. He has never been this submissive before. He always thought he’d be in complete control at all times. But you had to take control away from him and he doesn’t even mind. “Please…” His voice is soft, begging for you now. He looks down at you now, wanting you to reply. He wants to give up all control to you. All he wants now is your eternal pleasure.

You simpered before kissing him, your tongue eagerly seeking his.

You swallowed his moan as he hurried to himself free from the restraints of his boxers. He couldn’t wait anymore, he pushed himself into you. Tight, hot, and quivering as he gave you everything he had. He loosely wrapped his fingers around your throat, and you whined against his mouth, my head tilting back as my eyes fluttered shut. He tightened his grip, your own hands scrambling at his waist to encourage him deeper.

This is more pleasure than he has ever felt. The feeling of being completely submissive is a thrill that he had never felt before. He loves being at the complete mercy of someone else. Luke pulls you closer to him, arching his back again and letting out low grunts into your mouth. He holds your neck and he pulls back, looking down at you. His breath is heavy in your ear, his eyes closed tight. “You have… complete control.”

He was completely lost now. All he could hear was her begging now. All of his focus was on you now, he was consumed by you. Your hands around his waist, his mouth kissing yours passionately, your bodies moving in perfect sync with each other. His breathing grew heavier as the pace grew faster. His hand tightened on your throat, as if by instinct, but still gentle.

Luke’s breathing was heavy, his body tense and quivering. His breath was all he could hear now. Every time he moved forward, you moved her body and his would follow, and vice versa. You both lost yourselves more and more in a world where nothing mattered but you and the feeling you could give him. His breath caught in his throat, it came out in moans of pleasure. His hand was tight around your neck, but you could feel the soft grip of it.

You close your eyes in the pleasure of everything.

Everything around you felt a little fuzzy even your vision as you threw your head back while still trying to keep your hands on his waist, but you didn’t think you could hold on much longer as you gripped on his way, slowly started to falter.

The pace was getting faster now. His breath was coming faster and heavier now. “Hey, stay with me…” He whispered. It was so close. He was so close.

His body shakes uncontrollably. Every nerve in his body was tingling with pleasure. His grip on your neck tightened slightly as you moved faster and faster. His breath was coming out in short little exhales. His eyes are closed tight, his whole body quivering. All he can hear is your breath and soft moans, which are getting louder now.

He is so close, but he doesn’t want to finish right now. He wants to drag it out for you. He wants you to experience more of this. His grip tightens again, but still gently. His breathing is coming out in short little gasps now. Every fibre of Luke’s being was consumed with you and this pleasure.

You keep going, your bodies moving together, the pace has reached its peak now. His breath is short and loud now, his grip is tighter on you but not harsh.

He pulled you closer by your waist with one arm, maintaining his grip on your neck with the other, aligning me to accommodate all of him. With each thrust, I bit down on the flesh of his shoulder as his whole body tensed and his breath caught in his throat. His body shudders, and his entire body shakes with the pleasure. His hand is now tight around your neck, as he hits the peak of pleasure now. His breathing comes out in the slightest groan of satisfaction as your bodies combine together in one last movement.

Luke is shaking by this point. His breathing is deep now and his whole body is a quivering mess. Your touch is the most intense feeling he’s ever had. The pace was steady now and the feeling had only gotten more intense. The feeling of your hands around his waist, as you move with him. Your eyes looking into him. His body is twitching and tense, his breath is sharp and loud now. He can almost feel what you’re feeling as you move together.

“Luke, I’m—“

“Don’t stop.” He whispered in your ear. He was so close. His whole body was tense and she could feel the vibrations of his breath. Your touch was all he was thinking about now. He was in complete control for the first time in a long time. He was in complete control of your pleasure. Your breathing became louder, and he knew you were close to your climax too. You could feel the vibrations of his breath as you got closer and closer.

Luke’s body is shaking uncontrollably now. The grip around your neck is the tightest it’s been all night, but still gentle. His breath is coming out in loud sharp gasps now, his body twitching like crazy. Your body is twitching with his, the both of you moving at your own pace.

His grip is tightening even more as he feels the buildup of energy in her body. His breathing is like a growl now. He has completely lost control again, you were the one in control. You were the one making the pace. Now he just wants to hear you finally call out to him, call out to him that you’re almost there. Your body is the only one he feels now. You, your breathing, your motions. You are all he feels. He wants you to let go of it all, he wants you to call to him. He could feel you getting closer and closer.

“I swear to the Gods, Luke. I’m gonna—“ You finally mumbled his name again, but it came out breathless as you tried to hold onto him. You were practically clinging onto him for dear life. He could feel you clenching inside around him. Which almost made him lose control, he would’ve given up at that very moment if it wasn’t for your voice grounding him.

Your voice is like music to his ears. It’s all he wanted to hear. He was holding on to you tightly as the both of you were so close to the end. You calling out to him sends waves through his body, but he is losing even more control of himself. Your calling out to him only sends him further into the pleasure. His grip around your neck tightens even more, as he pulls you closer, his forehead coming to rest on yours.

Both of you are extremely close and are moving together at the same pace. He can feel your breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. You both move together like there is only one body moving. You both have reached your peak now and are moving like machines now. The pace is too much, you calling out to him is too much.

Your breathing is his breath. Your heartbeat is his heartbeat. The pace has built to its peak and it’s pushing you both to the end. Luke is so close to the end now, he is feeling what you’re feeling. You both finally are at the absolute peak of pleasure. You both reach their finale simultaneously. Your bodies shake uncontrollably and his grip is the tightest it has been all night as he lets everything out at once.

He came inside of you, his groaning was the only warning as you felt him shoot up his release.

He nuzzled right up against you, wrapping his arm around your waist. He was still slowly thrusting inside, just warm white liquid started spilling out of you.

Both of their breathing settles down and their bodies relax. Luke is out of his trance now, his breathing is coming out heavy but no longer is it an animalistic growl. He’s calm now, but satisfied. The whole night had been a thrill for him. It was exactly what he wanted: someone to take complete control of him, which he didn’t even know he wanted. His grip around your neck loosens and he pulls away from you.

Luke finally finds himself again. He is looking right into her eyes and his voice is low but soft. He is looking right into her eyes and he gives a small grin. “It’s okay, I got you.” He mumbles, nuzzling his head right into her neck. “Don’t worry.”

He kisses your neck softly again, but his breathing is normal now. He isn’t losing control anymore. He was now just content with your presence. He snuggles closer to you, his voice is soft and the glow of his eyes is different than before. He is relaxed, calm, and content.

“Are you alright?” Luke thought he might’ve been too hard with the choking earlier, but based on your expression, he didn’t really have anything much to worry about.

Luke was content. His body movements were slow and smooth now. He had complete control of himself now. The pace of his thrusts had slowed down but he was still inside of you. His breath was still heavy, but not because it was intense pleasure anymore. It’s just because it was comfortable. The glow in his eyes was not the same as before, his eyes were full of content and pleasure. Instead of intense pleasure, it was more like satisfaction now. His hand was still tight around your waist, and he brought his other hand up to your hand, squeezing it softly.

Luke’s breaths were coming out in slow grunts and he was keeping a pace with no intensity to it whatsoever. It felt more like he was moving in slow motion. The two of you were finally just moving together now as if you were one single person. Neither of you were looking at anything else. Nothing else mattered in this moment but this pleasure you finally felt with each other.

“I’m okay.”

It was as if his body was just flowing smoothly with you. His hand is still tight at your waist and your hand is still holding him tightly. The feeling was a complete mix of pure bliss and complete pleasure. The two of you were enjoying each other’s touch so much that nothing else mattered at all. You were just locked together, moving in an endless rhythm now.

You were still letting out heavy breaths in mere seconds, one after the other. “This is disgusting.” You motioned to the wet damp ground that you both were lying on.

He laughs at you. You both were pretty disgusting. But it’s also somewhat funny that he didn’t care, your whole bodies are soaked and sticky. Luke’s laughs are soft and low now. He lifts up one of his hands to wipe the sweat off of his brow. He looks over at the ground and laughs again as he looks back at you. He lowered himself as he planted a kiss on your forehead, his hands slowly grazing upon your cheek.

“Look at us.” He laughs silently, keeping his voice low. He chuckles a little bit, the two of you are such a mess right now.

Luke laughs a little bit more, it’s funny to him how much of a mess they both are. The ground is totally soaked and sticky as is your body and his. You both are completely covered in your own bodily fluids. It’s quite the scene to take in all at once.

Luke’s laughter dies down slightly, though it’s still somewhat there as he just chuckles at the whole situation. He looks over at you and smiles a small and soft smile at you. He shakes his head slightly, just still finding it funny. The whole scene is just utterly ridiculous and disgusting.

“You think they’ll notice us missing and coming back all sweaty and disgusting?”

He laughs again slightly and his body shakes in amusement. The thought of them both coming back to camp in this state is a funny thought to him. The two of you are covered in your own sweat and fluids, it’s not exactly a pretty sight of the two of you. So much so, that people will notice at first glance.

“Let’s wash up a little by the lake.”

He nods his head. He doesn’t even really feel that sore right now. You really were covered in so much sweat and fluids. The thought of even being around other people makes him feel awkward. Your suggestion is good though, a good old rinse-off is just what you both need right now. He pulls you off of him and sat up.

“Pull up your pants, Castellan,” I commented, looking down at him as I sat up straight, brushing off the debris on my clothes.

He is still lying at your feet. He shakes his head and he nods you off of him. He stands up slowly and he laughs at your comment. His pants actually fell down further and they are hanging around his ankles. He pulls them up and zips them up.

You were being direct, and it cracked him up a little. He is completely covered in yours and now his own juices.

“I feel sticky.”

“You think you feel sticky?” He laughs again and shakes his head. He grabs your hand and he pulls you up off of the floor and holds you close to him. He takes a quick glance around at the surroundings before looking right back at you.

“Let’s find a place where we can wash off.” He says with a smirk on his face. His body is a hot mess and he can feel every bit of it. He didn’t even believe they could get this dirty, but they did. So you need to get cleaned up now, especially before any of the other campers notice the two of you. That would be absolutely horrific.

“Nobody can find out.”

He chuckles again and he nods his head. You were absolutely right about that. Nobody can find out about this, it would be so embarrassing. You both would go down in history as a complete disgrace if anyone found out.

“God, we’re so nasty.” He muttered, leading the way towards the lake.

[autumnshighlady]

Run For Your Life

Dark!Azriel x reader

summary: you have a stalker who has been following you for a while, and suddenly things escalate

warnings: DARK DARK DARK FIC! seriously, Az is a psycho stalker, dubious consent, oral sex (m and f receiving), voyeurism, masturbation, violent language, oh did i mention Az is insane in this fic

word count: 7.2k

see the playlist for this fic

this fic is the reason I'm never getting into heaven. y'all better enjoy it. let me know your thoughts! also it's heavily inspired by the book Haunting Adeline, which isn't a good thing haha. also none of this is proofread sorry lmao

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

seriously, this is a dark fic. consent is dubious at best, reader is definitely coerced. read at your own risk.

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Darkness began to creep in, the shadow of the mountains swallowing the edges of Velaris. For most people in the city, the evening brought a new sense of life to the community. They’d go out dancing at the various pubs, or browsing the night market in the town square. Shop owners would be headed home to their families, content after a long day’s work. Everyone in Velaris looked forward to the hours after dusk.

Everyone except you.

While the crowds rushed towards the city centre, you went the opposite way towards your house on the edge of town. You hurried down the winding path, the noise from the city growing faint. A cold breeze stung your cheeks, making you walk faster. You clutched your bag tightly to your chest, a faint yet distinct sound of footsteps echoing in your ears.

He knew how to be quiet, yet he was making noise anyway.

Your heart raced as the footsteps grew closer. You didn’t break into a sprint like your instincts screamed at you to. He had never hurt you, never even come close. It was a game he seemingly liked to play with you – make his presence known and set your teeth on edge, creeping closer only to disappear at the last minute. Every time you turned around at the sound of his footsteps, there wasn’t a trace of a person anywhere near you. At first, you thought you were going crazy. But after a few weeks, you realised it was him.

Teeth chattering in the wind, you pushed through the gate to your house. The footsteps behind you had vanished, but you knew he was somewhere nearby. Watching. You could always tell when he was there – the world around you seemed colder, more silent, like the quiet before the breaking of a storm that never came. You would get a chill up your spine, as if invisible shadows were gently licking at your skin. That’s how you knew he was there.

You closed the door behind you as you entered your house, fiddling with the seven locks you had bought and added to the door. You grabbed your bag and pulled out yet another lock, one that had cost you a pretty penny. The shop keeper had assured you that it had an ironclad spell on it, making it impossible to be picked or broken. But that didn’t matter, he would somehow find a way through it just like he had with the other seven.

After installing the heavy lock, you scanned your house’s main room. Nothing appeared out of order, everything was where you left it. There was no eerie chill in your house, indicating that your shadow had not been inside today. Content as one could be in this situation, you made quick work of getting ready for bed. Your stomach screamed at you to get something to eat, but you ignored it. Your pantry door creaked open, but you grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. You could tell that he disliked when you went to bed without dinner, but after the long day you had, you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Weary, you climbed under the covers, knowing that somehow he was still watching. Despite all your curtains being closed and windows being bolted shut, he would still find a way to watch. He never touched anything – you or anything in your house, which reassured you enough to drift into sleep.

Until the next day.

******************

You woke up to the smell of an omelette filling your nostrils. Blinking away the last blissful sensations of sleep, you sat up in bed and sighed before pulling on your fuzzy robe and waddling out to the kitchen. The fogginess around your head instantly cleared as you approached the counter, noticing a fresh veggie and cheese omelette sitting on a plate by your usual stool. A tall glass of orange juice was carefully placed next to it, and a bouquet of midnight-blue roses were perched in your previously empty vase.

Your stomach did a backflip. This was new. Your shadow had never done anything like this before – he had been content just to observe you, to play with your fear like a cat toying at a mouse. Evidently, he didn’t like being ignored. The rational part of your brain wondered if the meal was poisoned somehow, a trap designed to render you unconscious or dead. But some sick part of you knew that it was safe, and urged you to eat it.

You weren’t stupid, you knew he was a stalker. You were pretty sure you knew who he was, too. There was only one male in the Night Court with the ability to be so discreet. As an advanced linguist, the High Lord had come to you several weeks ago for help on decoding an ancient language from a manuscript. Alongside him was his spymaster, whose intense hazel eyes sent a chill down your spine much like the one that haunted you now.

If it was indeed the spymaster who was your shadow, then you had no hope. He was the best there was when it came to spying – there was no chance of anyone being able to help you. Not that you’d told anyone about it. If you had, they would never believe you.

So you accepted your fate, doing your best to live your everyday life with a haunting presence always a few steps away. Begrudgingly, you took a seat on your stool and took a bite of the omelette. It was still warm, and you scoffed. Surprisingly, it was delicious, better than anything you could cook for yourself. A cool but soft sensation gently stroked at your cheek, as if to praise you for eating. You ignored it, glancing at the door you had bolted shut last night.

It was still closed, but every single lock was undone.

******************

A few days later, your shadow had made a new routine. You had gone to bed again without eating, and the exact same thing happened every morning – you’d wake up to a freshly cooked breakfast. Soon enough, you found yourself going to bed without eating on purpose, knowing he’d make sure you ate in the morning.

It was insane, you knew. Letting him do this to you – watch you while you sleep, eat the food he prepared for you. Evidently, your self preservation instincts were lacking, but you were lying if you said it didn’t send a little thrill through your body knowing he was watching your every move. You felt sacred, yet protected at the same time. It excited that sick part of your brain that relished in the danger of it.

After another long day in your office studying manuscripts, you headed home. For the first time in weeks, there were no echoing footsteps accompanying you. It felt almost lonely, which made you want to slap yourself for your stupidity – who misses being followed? So you walked in silence, an uneasy feeling churning your stomach. Your shadow had stuck to a single routine for weeks, and now things were changing. Now, you were less sure that you were safe in his presence. Yet you didn’t fight it. One way or another, he would get whatever it was he wanted. He would decide when to leave you alone, not you.

Immediately upon entering your home, you knew he had been there. A fresh bouquet of blue roses adorned your table, and there was that eerie chill in the air despite the heat from the fireplace. Heart racing, you set your bag down on the table next to the roses, scanning the room. Everything seemed in order, but something tugged you towards your bedroom. You found yourself blindly following it, anxiety making your bones jitter.

You stepped into your bedroom and gasped. Your bed was perfectly made, despite you leaving it a complete mess this morning. But that wasn’t what grasped your attention. At the foot of the bed there was a rectangular box. It was black, a dark blue ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a perfect bow at the top. There was no card, but you knew who it was from.

Any rational female would have simply grabbed it and thrown it as far away as possible, but the rational side of your brain was losing lately. Your curtain was slightly open, and you knew he was watching through the gap. With shaking hands, you undid the bow, letting the midnight blue ribbon fall from the box. Carefully, you opened the lid, holding your breath as you did so. You expected maybe a decapitated head, or a bloody knife, something to prove just how insane your stalker was. But no, what was inside the box was somehow even more startling.

Within the box was a dark blue nightgown. The cups were lacy and sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. A small bow adorned the centre of the plunging v-line, and sheer panels of cobalt blue fabric were draped from the lace cups. Folded right next to it was a thong in the same colour, so thin it barely counted as panties. 

“What the fuck?” You wondered aloud, holding up the nightgown. It couldn’t even be classified as a nightgown, the way it covered nothing. You could have sworn a deep chuckle was carried in through the breeze from your window, so faint it was practically inaudible. But you knew he was watching, gauging your reaction.

For the first time, you spoke aloud to him. “No, I am NOT wearing this you sick fuck.” You shouted, tossing the lingerie onto the floor. “I’ll eat your stupid food because it tastes better than anything I can make, but I refuse to put this on. Creep!”

Fuming, you settled into a steaming hot bath. It was the one room your stalker’s presence never entered, the one place you got peace from him. At least he has a shred of decency not to spy on me in the bathroom, you thought bitterly to yourself. He was getting bolder, and his recent gift made you squirm. On the one hand, it was terrifying – a strange male wanting you to wear lingerie for him, breaking into your home day after day and watching you without you even catching a glimpse of him once. But on the other hand, it was exciting. Your life seemed so dull and mundane, having him in it brought excitement to your day.

Yup, you were definitely sick in the head.

You finished your bath and ignored the lingerie, opting for your usual t-shirt and shorts attire. You climbed under the covers, ignoring the eerie presence outside your window. “Go fuck yourself.” You muttered to him as you drifted off into sleep.

******************

The second you woke up, you knew he had done something. Typically, the first thing you did upon sitting up in bed was brushing the hair out of your face, having gone to bed with it loose. Instead, you felt no tendrils of hair sticking to your cheeks. Heart racing, you slowly reached behind your head and felt your hair. To your horror, it was pulled back into a neat braid tied together with a fragment of the blue ribbon from the box. It was slightly damp, as if someone had put an oil in it. Your breaths shortened as you pulled the braid over your shoulder, hands shaking. You noticed the chair in the corner of your room. The lingerie that had been on the floor all night was nearly placed on it, ready to wear.

The message couldn’t be more clear. He was escalating things – not once before had he ever touched you, until last night after you refused to put on the nightgown. Wear it, he seemed to say.

Your throat was dry as you peeled back the covers and walked over to the chair. Today was your day off, and you hadn’t planned on going anywhere. Several chores needed doing around the house – reorganising, cleaning, the works. You’d be damned if you had to do it basically naked. So you scoffed, strolling over to your wardrobe and opening the doors. Every nerve in your body froze as you faced an empty closet.

He had taken all of your clothes to ensure you would put on the lingerie.

Pervert.

You angrily slammed the door. “Fuck you!” You yelled, not knowing which direction to aim your fury at. “If I put on your gift, will you give me my clothes back?”

Something invisible caressed your shoulder. Yes, it seemed to purr.

You rolled your eyes, but took a deep breath and turned back towards the chair. You figured it was better to make him happy, and with a sigh you peeled off your shirt and pants. No doubt he was watching, taking in your naked form – but with the revealing lingerie, he’d be seeing it all regardless. 

Swallowing what little remained of your dignity, you slipped the thong and nightgown on. You tried not to think about how it fit you perfectly, clinging to the shape of your breasts like it was custom made for your frame.

******************

By dusk, you had finally completed all your tasks. It was demeaning, washing dishes with your ass hanging out. No doubt your shadow enjoyed the view. But after a while you had begun to not care, trying to ignore the heat that pooled in your core at the thought of him watching you, exposed like this.

You groaned when you entered your bedroom, finding another gift at the foot of your bed. It was in a smaller, square box this time, but was wrapped the exact same way. “Mother above, what do you want now?” You muttered, sitting down on your bed and ripping the ribbon off your gift. You let out a gasp as you peeled off the lid and peered inside.

At the bottom of the box was a blue vibrator. It was shaped like an L with a white circle at the top and three buttons going down the side. Gingerly, you pressed the bottom button and the small ring at the top began to vibrate gently. So you clicked the top button and pressed the ring into the palm of your hand. The vibrating increased, and sucked at the skin on your hand.

“Fucking hell.” It was a suction vibrator. You knew without a shadow of a doubt what he wanted you to do with it. But you were stubborn, and chucked the device across the room. It hit your wall, and landed on the floor with a thump.

“Absolutely not.” You hissed. “I am drawing the line here.”

Deciding you had lost enough dignity for today, you crawled into bed grumpily and closed your eyes.

Hours passed, but sleep did not come. It felt hot in the room, so you kicked off the sheets, letting your warm skin breathe. You tried everything – counting down from 100, telling yourself a story, but nothing brought the peaceful bliss of sleep. He was watching you, without a doubt, laughing at your pathetic attempts to force your brain to shut down.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about how it might feel to get yourself off while he watched. Once, you had drunkenly confessed to your ex boyfriend that you wanted to explore the idea of being watched while he fucked you, or while you pleasured yourself. You had been shot down instantly, making your cheeks go red with embarrassment. But that hadn’t changed your feelings about it.

You flinched as an invisible shadow gently caressed your cheek. It felt like silk against your skin, cold but comforting. A few seconds later, it skimmed just above the curve of your breast, teasing the edge of the lingerie. 

“What are you–” Your question was cut off by a moan as the shadow flicked over your nipple through the thin fabric. You couldn’t help but arch up into it, your body already tempting to beg for more.

Your breaths became pants as the shadow graced your other nipple, teasing the buds through the fabric. It trailed down your sides before taking up residence on your inner thighs. Without thinking, you spread your legs for the invisible force that was touching your body and making your core heat up. That deep laugh you thought you had heard days ago sounded again, causing your cheeks to turn red. The shadows caressed your inner thigh, crawling up towards your pussy before jumping over to the other leg and starting again.

It was embarrassing how wet you were. Your core was throbbing, begging to be touched. But the shadows denied you, content to ghost over your pussy and continue their dance along your inner thighs. You reached down to grab the bedsheets, but your hand knocked against something hard. It was the vibrator.

He was persistent tonight.

You tried to hold out, to leave the vibrator on the bed and ignore the soft sensations driving your body wild. It went on for so long, to the point where tears began forming in your eyes. If the shadows weren’t going to satisfy you, you’d have to do it yourself.

“This is sick.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing the vibrator. Taking a breath, you switched it on and cranked up the setting. Settling into the sheets and spreading your legs wider, you placed the suctioning ring to your clit. Almost instantly, your body jolted at the intense sensation and you gasped.

A deep, velvety voice sounded in your ear, so low it was almost inaudible above the sound of the vibrator. Good girl.

You gasped louder, chills going down your spine. Your stalker was watching you get off wearing the lingerie he bought for you, and it sent a thrill through your body. You moaned, letting your back arch off the bed as you grinded into the toy. Your core was pulsing, and you nearly screamed when you felt that teasing shadow slip into your hole. It curled inside of you, instantly finding your g-spot. You whimpered at the sensation, as your legs began to twitch, approaching your orgasm at lightning speed. You shamelessly moaned as your orgasm ripped through your body, writhing your hips against the high speed of the vibrator.

You tried to pull it away, but that invisible force stopped you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't drag your hand away. “No, no, no…” You whimpered pathetically, core screaming from oversensitivity as both the vibrator and the shadow relentlessly attacked it.

Yes, sweetheart. Take it. Give me another one. You heard the voice echo next to your ear.

“I can’t.” You cried, fighting with all your might to move. Yet your hand and hips remained frozen.

Yes, you can. 

You began sobbing, your body having no time to recover from your first orgasm as the second one rapidly approached. The shadow in your pussy pumped in and out even faster, hurling you over the edge just minutes later. 

Your pillow was soaked with your tears, and everything began to go fuzzy. You lost track of the amount of orgasms he forced you through before you passed out.

******************

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. Your body was back under the covers, a fresh soft pillow behind your head. You groaned, the memories of last night flooding back like a burst dam. You had never orgasmed so hard in your life, nor so many times in one round. You remembered that voice in your ear, praising you and talking you through it.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes. Instantly, you knew he was there. But it was different this time, closer. You slowly turned your head, and were met with a pair of hazel eyes and towering wings at the foot of your bed.

You inhaled sharply, finally meeting eyes with your stalker – Azriel, the spymaster of the Night Court. “Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice was as cold and smooth as the shadows that teased you last night. 

Finally, after weeks, your survival instinct kicked in. You scrambled off the bed, making a run for the door as fast as you could. Your heart pounded in your throat as you reached for the handle. Before you could grab onto it, a scarred, cold hand clamped down on your wrist. It was like iron, no matter how much you fought, he did not ease up. You closed your eyes, too scared to look at him.

“Let me go!” You screamed, using your free hand to slap his chest as hard as you could. Azriel did not flinch, as if you were nothing more than a fly. He grabbed your other hand, pinning it to your side. He stepped forward, forcing you to walk back until you were pressed against the wall. You felt him lift your arms until they were above your head, hands digging into the cold wood. He held them effortlessly with one hand, his newly free one coming down to stroke your cheek.

“You have such pretty eyes,” He murmured. “Let me see them.”

You sobbed, tears wetting your cheeks. You were terrified – you had heard stories of what the shadowsinger was capable of, the torture he inflicted on his enemies. Was this one of his sick torture methods? And why you? Still, you kept them squeezed shut.

The male growled, his hand gripping your jaw firmly and forcing your chin up. “I said open your eyes. Don’t make me ask again.”

You obliged this time, prying your eyes open to look at him for the first time. He was much taller than you, his muscled frame towering over your own. His short dark hair was tousled, strands of it teasing his forehead and making those hazel eyes look even more menacing. His face was sharp and undeniably beautiful, and Mother above his wings flared menacingly behind him. They were enormous. Your eyes met his – hazel eyes that had watched you, unseen from the shadows for weeks on end.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You said shakily.

His brows furrowed, confusion that looked genuine crossing his features. “Hurt you? Why would I want to do that?”

“Because that’s what you do for a living.” Your voice was meek, and you tried to ignore how smooth his voice was.

“But not you.” He said, thumb stroking your jaw. “Never you. Unless you asked. Gods, I would do almost anything you asked.”

You gulped, jaw beginning to ache from the pressure of his grip. “Including leave me alone?”

Azriel chuckled darkly, leaning in closer. “That’s why I said ‘almost’, princess.” His hand released your jaw, snaking its way down your body and settling on your waist. He gave it a squeeze, letting out a chuckle as you gasped. Your traitorous body giving away the faint scent of arousal that grew at his actions. “Besides, we both know you don’t want that.”

“Leave me alone.” You begged. “I don’t want this.”

“Oh, but your body says otherwise.” Azriel moved his hand down past your hip, cupping your backside and squeezing sharply. More arousal pooled at your core, and you whimpered. “See?” His velvety voice was laced with satisfaction. “You crave my touch. After hearing your sweet moans last night I don’t think I can live another day without hearing them again. I hadn’t even touched you and you came so hard all on your own. You’re going to utterly fall apart when I get my cock inside you, sweetheart. I’m going to ruin you.”

 He pressed his hips into you, letting you feel his massive bulge against your lower stomach. You gasped, the sheer size of it almost unsettling. You felt wetness pool between your legs, and you pressed your knees together. Azriel noticed, and chuckled again. “Do you have any idea how hard I tried to hold off touching myself last night as I watched you?” He purred, lips grazing your ear. “I couldn’t do it. After your second orgasm, I finally pulled out my cock and imagined it was your hand wrapped around it. It took everything in me not to take you right then and there.”

You growled, baring your teeth. “Let. Me. Go.” You hissed, ignoring your body’s desire to give into whatever he wanted.

Azriel sighed, letting go of your wrists and removing his hand from your backside. Your arms dropped down, shoulders aching from being pinned up. You let out a breath, unsure what was going on. “Disappointing,” He said lowly. “I was going to let you have me any way you wanted. I was going to be gentle, take my time, give you whatever you asked. I’d have tied myself up if that’s what you wanted. But have it your way.”

The spymaster took a step back, his eyes going dark. “I’m going to let you run. Run now, and don’t let me catch you.”

Your entire body went cold. What had you gotten yourself into? “And what happens if you catch me?” You asked nervously.

The smile that spread across his lips terrified you. “I fuck you. I claim you whatever way I want, and you take it like a good girl. You can fight it all you want, but you’ll learn your place by the end of the night. Now run.”

You didn’t hesitate before bolting out of the bedroom, throwing your door open and running towards the woods. You didn’t care that you had no shoes, or that you were still in the revealing lingerie. You ignored the freezing bite of the forest air as you ran into it.

******************

You weren’t sure how long you had been running. Azriel had reverted back to his favourite game from when he first began following you – every time you heard footsteps, you ran. They caught up to you, and when you turned around to face him, nobody was there. It was torture, and you were ready to give up. You leaned against one of the trees, gasping for air.

“Giving up yet?” Your shadow’s voice sounded in your ear. You spun around, but he wasn’t there. “You’re making this too fun, sweetheart.” He called from a distance, suddenly further away.

Taking another heaving breath, you forced yourself to run. You zig zagged through the trees, trying to lose him. You knew it was hopeless, that he was just toying with you. But you’d be damned if you didn’t go down trying.

You turned around to see if he was following, and the wind suddenly got knocked out of your lungs as you crashed into a tall figure. You thought you were going to fall on your ass, but strong arms grabbed you and held you upright. You couldn’t help but scream at the surprise. Panting, you looked up and were met with Azriel’s sly grin. “Caught you.” He purred. “Looks like I win.”

You gave up. From the moment he had laid out the lingerie for you, you knew it would come to this. To him having his way with you. It all led to this, and while the thought terrified you, it also ignited something animalistic in you. There had been a certain thrill to running through the forest like a deer being hunted by a lion. Again, that sick and twisted part of your brain won over the sensible part. Deep down, you knew that you wanted this. You had only fought for the sake of your own pride. You craved the thrill.

As if sensing your submission, Azriel leaned down and buried his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent. “You smell so fucking perfect.” He groaned, lips brushing your skin. “I can’t wait to taste you. That's all I’ve been thinking about.”

Suddenly, the world spun around you, and you found yourself back in your bedroom moments later. The warmth was welcome against your ice cold skin, and you were secretly relieved he wasn’t about to fuck you like an animal in the dirty forest. You didn’t have time to question his actions before he bent down and captured your lips in his.

You moaned as his mouth claimed yours with a dominance that made your core wet. There was no romance behind it, just pure claiming desire. You melted into him as one of his scarred hands reached around your lower back and pulled you against his solid chest. His other hand reached up and grasped your hair, tilting your head back to get a better angle. 

You gasped at the tug on your scalp, and Azriel snaked his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch of it. You’d never been kissed like this before, and it was making your head spin. Hesitantly, you reached up and clasped your hands around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the top of his neck. He growled into your mouth in response, kicking your legs apart with his feet and settling his thigh in between them. 

Azriel’s lips made their way down the column of your neck, biting and sucking harshly as he went. You moaned as his thigh moved against your throbbing core, sending a warm sensation up your body. The delicate panties you were wearing did nothing to hide how wet you were, the juices from your cunt seeping onto his dark pants. He moved his mouth down to the tops of your breasts, biting down hard with his sharp canines and making you cry out. You’d for sure be covered in a million bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are on my thigh.” The shadowsinger groaned into your skin. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re this soaked already? It’s pathetic, coming from someone who said they didn’t want this.”

You could only whimper, defenceless as scarred hands grabbed the sides of your nightgown and ripped it apart with one pull. It fell to pieces on the floor beside you. You felt yourself being lifted into the air, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. It was hard not to gasp as your sopping cunt was pressed into his rock hard bulge in his trousers. Azriel carried you over to the bed and roughly tossed you into the mattress, causing you to bounce over the sheets ungracefully. Quick as a viper, he snaked his way over top of your body, making you feel incredibly small.

He smirked as his lips met your nipple, sucking harshly and making you cry out. He did not treat your breast gently, covering the mound of flesh with bitemarks and bruises from his lips before moving to the other one. You went to push him by the shoulders, the intensity from his mouth bordering on too much, but his hands quickly found yours and pinned them to the mattress. You were utterly helpless beneath him, and it sent more wetness to your core.

Azriel lifted his head from your breasts, smirking at your flushed face before trailing his lips down your stomach. He let go of your hands, but tendrils of darkness snaked their way around your wrists, taking his place. They pinned your hands above your head, unable to move. You could have sworn they chuckled at you – the mischievous shadows at their masters command had been torturing you for weeks, finally getting to reveal themselves in their true form.

Azriel gripped the string of your panties in his teeth, hazel eyes making contact with your own. He pulled them down your legs with his mouth, the animalistic action making you even wetter. Instinctively, you closed your legs once he removed them. Once he tossed the panties aside, rough hands pried your legs open. “Now, now,” He tutted, his deep voice lulling you into obedience. “Am I going to have to restrain your legs, too?”

You shook your head, relaxing your muscles into his grip. Azriel smirked triumphantly, settling on his knees on the ground at the end of the bed and yanking you closer to him by his ankles. “Good girl.” He praised, wrapping his arms underneath your thighs and putting your hips in an ironclad grip. A fresh wave of arousal pooled from you, dampening the sheets – and his smirk grew wider.

“Do you like it when I tell you what a good girl you are?” He asked, cocking his head. “Or would you prefer if I told you that you’re a pathetic little slut, all spread out for me? An ungrateful brat who ran through the forest to defy me when she could have had things her way if she just asked nicely?”

You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut at the humiliation. It was embarrassing how much your body was responding to his words alone. If he didn’t touch you soon, you were sure you were going to explode. A harsh nip on your thigh brought your attention back to the spymaster.

“I asked you a question.” He growled dangerously. “Are you a good girl? Or are you my little slut, ready to give herself to me to do whatever I want?”

“I…” You tried to find the words, but found your ability to speak had gotten lost in the forest somewhere with your dignity. Before you could try again, your body was flipped over so that you were laying on your stomach, arm still bound in front of you. A loud cracking noise filled the room as Azriel smacked your left ass cheek with thunderous force. You couldn’t hold in the cry that slipped out.

“Every time you disobey me, you get ten spanks.” Azriel said firmly, his voice cold as stone with no mercy to be found. “You are to count them aloud. If you lose track, I start over. Understood?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t good enough. Your right cheek took the blow this time. “I expect a verbal response.” He hissed.

“Yes!” You cried out, skin stinging from the slap.

“Good. Now count.”

Azriel brought his hand down again, alternating sides. You counted out loud, tears dripping onto the pillow. The spymaster was a trained Illyrian warrior with three times your muscle, so it hurt like hell. But you couldn’t deny that it made you even wetter.

“Ten.” You sobbed as Azriel made his final hit before flipping you around so you were on your back again.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He hummed, leaning into your cunt and inhaling your scent.

“Yes.” You said eagerly, not wanting to endure another round of his fierce hits.

“See? You’re learning. Soon, you’ll be perfect at it, my own little toy who will do whatever I ask without talking back. Unless you enjoy your punishments, I wouldn’t be surprised if a slut like you acted out so she could get put in her place.”

You whimpered, unsuccessfully attempting to move your hips up in his firm grip. “Please.”

Azriel smirked again, lifting his head. “Please, what?”

“Touch me.” You couldn’t take it anymore. The feeling of his warm breath fanning right above your cunt was getting to be too much. You didn’t care about anything else right now other than him.

“Since you begged so nicely, sweetheart. I will listen to you just this once.”

Finally, those sinful lips met your core. You cried out as he delved in like a man starved, licking a bold strip up your pussy before attaching his lips to your clit and sucking hard. He was rough and relentless, putting the vibrator he got you to shame. His lips and tongue were everywhere, exploring every inch of your pussy. You couldn’t move your hips against his attack, forced to lay there and take what he gave you. 

The male who stalked you for weeks, who happened to be the spymaster of the Night Court, was on his knees eating you out. He slipped a finger in your hole, the scars and ridges making your body sing. After a few more minutes, he easily slipped in a second.

It wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching. It hit you like a landslide, and you saw white as the tension between your legs snapped. You almost sobbed as it wracked your body, unable to even buck your hips to ride it out. Azriel groaned into your core as you soaked his face, but he eased up as you came down from your high, unlike what he did with the vibrator. When he finally pulled away, your arms were released, and your entire body was trembling like a leaf. You opened your eyes to see Azriel pulling his shirt above his head, revealing whirling black tattoos and a muscled abdomen that snapped you out of your trance. Immediately, you sat up in the bed, fixing your eyes on his shirtless form. You didn’t have to glance up to know that his face was a look of pure male pride as he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his trousers and boxers all in one go, stepping out of them and leaving both of you completely naked. 

Your jaw went agape at the size of him. He was long and thick, unlike any male you’d seen before. While you certainly enjoyed sex with males, your mouth had never watered with the urge to put their cock in your mouth.

Until now.

Azriel stroked himself, wings flaring behind him. He looked like a god above you, pure muscle and desire as he stared down at you. “On your knees. Now.” He ordered with an authority that sang to your desires. You didn’t hesitate to scramble onto the floor in front of him, kneeling. He guided his cock to your lips, which you gladly opened to allow him entrance. The moan he let out as you encased as much of his cock in your mouth as you could was otherworldly.

You looked up at him through your lashes. He had tilted his head back, the column of his throat bobbing with groans as you slid your lips up and down. There was no way you’d manage to fit it all in your mouth, so you reached up and grabbed the base with one hand, pumping gently to meet your mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” Azriel moaned, reaching down and gathering your hair in one hand. “Just like that, princess.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you gagged around him, but kept going. You had expected the shadowsinger to be quiet, given his reputation. But no, his groans and sighs echoed throughout your bedroom, spurring you on. As the minutes passed your knees began to ache, but you welcomed the pain.

Suddenly, Azriel pulled himself out of your mouth. You whined, wanting to please him further.

“Such a pathetic slut, whining that she didn’t get to suck my cock for longer.” He growled, hoisting you up by your arm and flinging you back onto the bed. “I thought about coming in your mouth, but no. I’m going to fill up that sweet cunt of yours instead. And you’re going to take it.”

You were laying on your stomach facing the mirror on your wall to the left of your bed. You watched your reflection as Azriel grabbed your hips and lifted them up in the air, forcing you to prop yourself up on your elbows. His hazel eyes were so dark, the colour barely showed. They met yours in the mirror as he learned down and grabbed your hair again, forcing your head up to face the mirror head on. “You’re going to watch as I fuck you.” He said, lining himself up with your entrance. 

He kept one hand in your hair as he guided the tip into you, causing you to cry out. The stretch stung, despite being prepared. He was bigger than any cock you had taken, and your body struggled to accommodate. Azriel didn’t give you much time to adjust before he was pushing himself fully in, groaning. You tried to force your body to relax, knowing you were going to be sore the next day. He slowly slid himself almost all the way out, relieving your muscles before slamming back into you with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of you. You gasped, and instinctively went to turn your head into the pillow, but a harsh tug on your hair from Azriel made you stop.

“Keep watching.” He said firmly. “If you take your eyes off the mirror, I won’t let you cum. Got it?”

“Yes.” You whined. Azriel grunted, and began pounding into you at a relentless pace. The loud sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as you were fucked mercilessly.

“This is what you fucking needed, isn’t that right?” Azriel hissed as he thrusted into you. “To be treated like a slut? All those other boys been too nice to you, letting you get away with talking back. They don’t know what you truly need. To be put in your place, properly fucked within an inch of your life. Nobody can make you feel as good as I can.”

His words poured over you like honey, the pain subsisting into drunken bliss. The bed was shaking beneath you, headboard banging against the wall loudly. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Nobody had ever fucked you like this, in a way you didn’t know you needed. It was so wrong, letting him do these things to you. But it felt too good to deny yourself it.

Azriel bent over, covering your back with his tall frame as he adjusted his angle and thrust even harder. One hand was pressed to the bed to steady himself while the other gripped your jaw firmly. You watched in the mirror, and it was perhaps the most erotic thing you had ever seen – Azriel’s wings flaring as he claimed you, muscular arm holding you in place, utterly helpless against him. He sunk his canines into your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. You cried out as his teeth carved into your flesh, the mixture of pain from his bite and pleasure from his thrusts sending you towards another orgasm. He released your jaw and reached down to rub your clit harshly.

“Nobody’s allowed to touch you but me.” He growled in your ear, watching your face in the mirror. “You’re mine, and mine only, you got that? If I even scent another male has touched you, I’ll cut his hands off and leave them at your doorstep. You belong to me now. Cum for me.”

He accentuated those last three words with thrusts, and it was enough to send you over the edge. Your entire body shook as you came around Azriel’s cock, black fuzziness surrounded the edges of your vision. You watched through your lashes as Azriel bared his teeth, growling like an animal as his hips sputtered and he spilled himself inside you. He let out a moan that could have shaken the entire forest. You screamed weakly as he spurted inside you while you rode out your orgasm, the sensation nearly making you pass out.

You both panted as Azriel pulled himself out of you. He climbed off the bed and you immediately collapsed. The room was spinning, your body completely spent. The spymaster casually put on his clothes and crouched down so his face was level with yours. 

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He purred before his shadows encompassed him and he vanished, leaving you alone wondering what just happened.

[flowerandblood]

Sacrifices (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, virginity loss, oral sex, smut, fluff, sexual tension, obsession ]

[ description: Finally, after months of waiting, his beloved, younger sister becomes his wife. The task that awaits him as an older brother is not to cause her pain during the beautiful act in which they will finally become one. ]

Part 4 (the last) of the Appearances, it can be read as standalone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Don't be afraid, hāedar (little sister)."

This was easier said than done.

The day of their nuptials, although it was the fulfilment of their dreams and hopes, was also a time full of terror and humiliation for them.

Aegon made sure to speak his thoughts aloud about how his younger brother would not be able to please his sister and that it was him she should give her wedding night to.

"With one eye, he won't even know where to put it." Aegon sneered, taking a deep sip from his cup. Their mother gave him a quick, rebuking glance.

"Aegon. That is enough."

The humiliation he felt burned his loins like fire, however, what really frightened him was her pale face, her hands clenched on her beautiful green dress, the field flowers pinned into her hair.

She looked so beautiful and innocent that he was afraid to touch her, barely brushing her tiny, delicate hands as they danced.

He hated courtly courtesy, and the steps he had to take to the rhythm of the music seemed forced and clumsy, yet he was doing it for her, just for her.

Although it was their wedding day, she was sad and tired.

To his joy, with the help of his mother, he managed to dissuade his brother and his friends from participating in their intimate act. When the chamber door closed behind them, they were left alone.

He was relieved when her body clung to his: it was not a gesture of desire, but of fear and uncertainty, as if she had been waiting for hours and could not do it because it would be indecent behaviour.

Embracing her husband.

She was his wife.

"Lēkia (big brother)." She muttered, sinking into his linen white shirt, her body covered only by her nightgown.

His arms involuntarily embraced her petite figure, sinking her face into his chest, her scent, her closeness making him feel a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

"I'm here. No one's going to hurt you." He whispered, his full lips placing a loud, soft kiss on the top of her head.

Gods, how he loved her.

Her, only her.

Love was a weakness and he knew it, and she was the only person he wanted and needed to be vulnerable in front of.

"Are you afraid?" She asked involuntarily, looking up at him with her big, dark eyes that she had inherited from their mother.

His broad hand rose to her plump cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb, looking at her with his lips parted, feeling a squeeze in his heart.

What should he answer?

What if she thought he was weak, that Aegon was right?

That he wouldn't be able to please her?

"What do you mean?" He muttered, looking into the depths of her dark, shining eyes.

"Have you ever lain with a woman? Before our betrothal. You can tell me, I'll understand." She whispered in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

He didn't know if it was a good idea to tell her, but he didn't want to begin their marriage with a lie.

"I did, issa dōna rūklon (my sweet flower). Once. It was Aegon's idea, not mine. On my thirteenth Name Day." He choked out with difficulty, feeling shame and fear at the thought that she might have rejected him, found him disgusting, unworthy of her affection.

She nodded, to his surprise looking as if she felt relieved, her trembling hand found his, their fingers intertwined in a soft, tender embrace.

"You promised me that from this day to the end of your days you would be mine alone." She whispered, and he nodded, feeling his erection swell and pulse in his breeches at her words, reminding him of the vow they had made to each other in the Great Sept.

"Yes, sweet sister. I am yours and you are mine." He sighed, leaning over her, in some natural, simple reflex, letting their lips cling to each other in a soft, warm kiss.

They both purred with contentment, carefully grasping each other's cheeks in their hands, stroking the skin of their faces with their fingers, letting their wet, rough tongues lick tentatively with the quiet click of their saliva.

"– ah – mmm –" She hummed as one of his arms hugged her waist, forcing her body to slam against his, his impatient cock pushing against her belly.

"– can you feel it, hāedar? –" He exhaled, looking down between their bodies, watching the bulge under the material of his breeches pressing against her body. "– can you feel what you're doing to me? – how much I crave to feel you? –"

She looked at him with a hazy, dreamy, hot gaze from which he felt a squeeze in his lower abdomen, her glistening, puffy lips parted wide.

"– I want it, brother – make it feel good –" She whispered, and he needed no more encouragement. She squealed in surprise, throwing her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up, holding her beneath her buttocks, walking with her towards their large marital bed now standing in his chamber.

"– easy, little one – easy –" He murmured with a smile, touched by her innocent, involuntary behaviour, in the candlelight seeing how much her cheeks had blushed with emotion.

"– will it hurt, Aemond? – mum said it would –" She muttered as he laid her down on the soft, clean bedding, apparently revealing to him at last the reason for her sadness and anxiety all day.

He sighed heavily, climbing onto the bed, reading dozens of books before their wedding just to make sure he did everything he could to spare her suffering.

"– there's a thin wall inside you that I'm going to have to break – during this moment, you'll be able to feel discomfort and sting, but when it's behind us, I swear you'll feel nothing but pleasure –" He whispered in a trembling voice, spreading her thighs in front of him, letting the material of her nightgown expose her bare thighs.

She blinked, looking at him in disbelief, surprised, apparently, by his extensive knowledge on the subject, and breathed out quietly, as if trying to relax.

"– we'll start with what's familiar to you – we need to make you wet and willing for your brother – hm? –" He murmured, cocking his head, trailing his hands from her knees to her thighs. She nodded quickly, wriggling impatiently, clearly now more excited than frightened, shivering on her skin in the places where he ran his palms.

A sweet sigh of surprise left her lips as he drew her closer to him and leaned in, sinking his face into her heat: her folds were pink and swollen, soft and tender as silk. His sister smelled of bath, of fragrant oils and herself, of her own sweat – he murmured at the thought, the tip of his tongue running over her small, swollen bud, making her fingers clench in his hair, her head thrown back.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, rolling her hips back and forth, impatient, wanting more and harder. He, however, decided to take his time and explore her womanhood, the space around her pearl, her tight slit, which he teased with slow, lazy flicks of his tongue.

He felt the taste of her moisture on his tongue and grinned under his breath as he listened to her moans, feeling her body writhing before him in convulsions, his fingers digging warningly into the plush structure of her thigh.

"– lay still –" He hissed, finally forcing his tongue between her fleshy, hot walls, licking and rubbing the small spot just above her opening, teasing her bud with his nose, all swollen from his caresses.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She sobbed in front of him, chasing her peak, but he knew he couldn't let her come.

Not yet.

He stopped his treatments and raised himself up on his elbows, looking at her with satisfaction, wiping his face with his hand. Her long, dark hair was spread around her head, her lips parted wide in a heavy breath, her gaze hot and full of desire.

"– I want more – husband –" She mumbled, and he sighed and nodded, sliding the material of his breeches lower, releasing his hard, long manhood, dripping from his precum.

Husband.

"– show me your breasts, sweet wife –" He commanded, and she drew in a loud breath and quickly slid the material of her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her bare chest to him.

Something about her appearance, about how different she was from Madam, aroused him even more – her plump breasts with their sweet, hard nipples were more girlish, more innocent, more lovely.

His.

His hand squeezed his swollen cock at the base with sure, quick jerks as he leaned in, sinking and clamping his mouth on her little nipple, beginning to suck involuntarily as if he were a baby.

He had never heard her let out a similar moan before, so helpless and loud, her hands immediately pressed his face closer to her breast as if she wanted to melt into one with him.

"– b-brother – what are you – ah –" She mewled and shuddered as he directed the thick head of his cock against her leaking, hot slit and began to slowly push.

She gasped, throwing her head back, clearly not having known a similar sensation in her entire life – he opened her with difficulty and was met with resistance, her moan of discomfort telling him that this was the moment.

He released her breast and lifted himself up on his arm higher, to her face, wanting to look into her eyes, his nose pressed against her cheek.

"– I need to push harder now – this might hurt a little – spread your thighs wider – yes, just like that – ready? –" He asked and she nodded, her eyes big with desire and terror.

He cradled her head to the hollow of his neck, slid out a little and with one sure thrust hit something deep inside her, from which she cried out loudly and squealed in pain, her fingers tightening on the material of his shirt.

Fuck, he hadn't made it.

He had to do it again, harder.

"– just one more time – one more time and it will be over –" He whispered in a trembling voice, her walls almost painfully tight against his cock, clenching in panic.

He grasped her buttocks in his hands, pulling them apart with her whine of discomfort, and with one violent thrust he finally broke deeper into her warm interior. He felt her burst into sobs, her legs quivering all over in his embrace, her fingers clenched painfully hard against his skin.

"– stop – don't move – don't move –" She mumbled pleadingly, and he froze motionless, panting heavily, feeling the sting in his heart, for some reason feeling like crying himself. His lips placed warm, tender kisses on her temple and cheek, his broad hand simply stroking her hair, wanting to reassure her.

"– I know, I'm so sorry – I know I promised it would be easier – but the worst is behind us –" He promised, and she swallowed heavily, feeling how hard his erection pulsed inside her.

"– it still hurts –" She confessed, and he nodded.

"– we'll wait until it stops – we'll just embrace and kiss until the discomfort passes – hm? –" He asked in a shaky voice, afraid that she would reject him now, tell him to stop, that she didn't want to see him, that she would never let him touch her again.

She, however, nodded and looked at him with a trusting and affectionate gaze from which his lips, swollen with desire, melted with hers into one. They kissed loudly and unashamedly, their tongues dancing with each other deep in their throats, fighting for dominance, their hands stroking their hair and bodies.

Indeed, he felt her walls stop pressing so hard against him, her breathing calmed, tears of fear stopped flowing down her face. Tentatively, he slid deeper into her, and she only sighed, combing through his hair, without however uttering a word.

"– may I? –" He asked in a quivering voice, feeling his cock about to explode with desire. She looked up at him, her lips parted sweetly, her face all red from emotion and tears.

"– yes – just – be gentle – She mumbled, and he pressed his forehead against hers, with a low groan slowly and firmly sliding all the way into her. He looked at her face, at her eyelashes glistening from her tears, at her sweet red lips, and thought he had to do this to her.

"– sister –" He exhaled and began to pound into her, shyly and shallowly at first, thinking only of how tight, warm, wet she was, that he was just taking her maidenhood and her, what was rightfully his from the day she was born.

"– brother –" She muttered, throwing her head back, clearly feeling the opposite of discomfort at the moment.

"– 'm going to accelerate now –" He whispered, gripping her hips in his hands, imposing a sharp, fast rhythm on her, slamming into her the way he'd always dreamed of doing, the loud slaps of their skin building his way to fulfilment.

She moaned loudly, throwing her legs over his back, her hands on his neck pressed him closer, wanting to unite with him, to become one as they were always meant to be. They kissed passionately and deeply, then again and again as her hips began to rock, seeking a shared rhythm with him, her sweet little cunt began to squeeze him, soaking him all over.

"– ñuhon (mine) –" He exhaled between the aggressive, sticky, slick dance of their teeth and tongues, their bodies entwined in an aggressive, close embrace like a vine.

"– aōhon (yours) – iksan aōhon, lēkia (I'm yours, big brother), oh fuck, fuck, fuck! –" She cursed far too sweetly and innocently, throwing her head back in euphoria, going before his eyes through the kind of release she had never before experienced in his presence, the great wet spot under their buttocks making him lick his lips lustfully.

"– that's right – I intend to fulfil my duty to you as a husband every day, ābrazȳrys (wife) – ah – fuck, yes –" He sighed, feeling a tightening in his stones, only to feel a wonderful, stunning relief a moment later and finally fill her with his seed, as he had always been destined to do.

"– gods –" He exhaled, falling on top of her, their hands clenched on their bodies, refusing to let go, their breaths hitched and heavy, full of fulfilment.

"– I want to see you bare, valzȳrys (husband) –" She mumbled out in shame, and he hummed, for some reason pleased with her request.

At the thought that he hadn't discouraged her from their intimacy, that she wanted it as much as he did.

As he pulled off his shirt and breeches she slipped off the material of her nightgown, remaining unashamedly naked before him, sweet, beautiful, his.

His little sister.

He drew her to him, placing tender, loud kisses full of affection on her bare skin, her nimble fingers pulling at the ribbon material at the back of his head, releasing the front strands of his hair.

He looked at her and smiled, thinking with pride that he was her husband and she was his wife, that every night from that day until his death she would spend at his side, in his bed, bearing his children, his inheritance.

They clung to each other like little children, sinking into each other's embrace, stroking each other's naked bodies, kissing the skin of each other's sweaty faces, red with emotion, knowing that no one would ever separate them again.

Before the face of men and gods, they were one.

[lundenloves]

fatherhood II

*Standing on a soap box, pointing at every one of you.* I will not be responsible for the tears passed in this piece of written emotional catastrophe. It simply had to be done. Simon meeting his daughter for the first time. It's canon. Leave me alone! *Runs away*

↳ no warnings | f!reader | 1.2k

part one | dad!simon masterlist

i may as well be running from lions at this rate, i cannot believe this. yes i can. no one talk to me or ask me the colour of anything for at least twelve days. sigh.

Having a baby sleeping on his chest was not on Simon Riley’s bingo cards for this year. His own baby at that.

Ironically, it was like learning to walk all over again. Having a little person who was completely dependent on you was something he couldn’t fathom at all until the time came. And boy, did it come, straight to the deep end he was.

It started when he was stood on the doorstep to his own home, two days late, taking deep breaths and roughing his hair in attempts to alleviate the bubbling anxiety. He was mentally beating himself up for the fucking career he’d chosen, and the hardships that came with time. Time he wouldn’t get back.

“Fuck sake, Simon.” Came a mutter to himself, slapping one hand of motivation to his cheek before reaching to turn the handle. Baby cries were audible from outside, his jaw tightening at the sound. He hadn’t been home in two weeks. Many an argument had passed to get time off although it just simply wasn’t an option. Forcing his wife to give birth alone bar her family. Christ.

He stepped into the house quietly, as if subconsciously on a fucking stakeout. A shaky sigh came when he’d leant against the wall, dropping his bag and shutting the door behind him.

It was a lot and he hadn’t even met her yet.

His daughter.

A rush of guilt panged in his chest and forced the steps he took toward the living-room. His broad shoulders filled the doorframe, in complete contrast to the tiny baby who lay in your arms.

His cold heart attempted to ignite a spark at the sight, kickstarting a warmth that didn’t quite come. Not until you had caught sight of him and instantaneously teared up. It was like all hell had broken loose in his chest, experiencing emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Still, he couldn’t speak, nor move.

You brought her to him, standing up and pressing your forehead against his chest. “You don’t need to say anything.” He nodded quietly, looking down at the baby in your arms. The inner corners of his eyebrows had raised, jaw tensing and loosening between seconds.

You could practically see the thoughts race through his mind. Good and bad.

“Stop worrying, you’re home now.” His shirt had a central wet patch from your silent tears.

You weren’t going to tell him how it was hell, how awful it was that he wasn’t around, and just how much you cried the night you got home with her. Welcomed by an empty house and darkness.

“Simon.” You said weakly, looking up at him and catching the gloss of his dark eyes. He was just as devastated about the whole thing. “Don’t think about it. It’s over. We have her, she’s safe, I'm safe.”

He nodded slowly, eyes unmoved from the baby below him. “Do you want to hold her?” Your voice came as a whisper, aware of his anxieties.

“I don’t know how.” He cleared his throat, looking back up to you. The hardness in his eyes was still there, although exposed by the sheen of upset that threatened to spill. You’d never seen him cry. Not once in the seven years of being together.

You smiled a little at him, a quivering one at best. “You just have to support her head.” Your arms lifted toward his, lightly adjusting his positions before handing your daughter toward her father.

And fuck, did it hit you then.

Stepping back, you made an effort to mentally photograph the scene in front of you. His eyes cast down to the baby in his arms, holding her as if she could break any second. The large palm of his hand was bigger than her whole body, supporting her with his arm although she barely used a forearm's worth of space. Her little hands raised upward, entirely relaxed in his arms as opposed to the crying he had walked in on.

His energy had entirely calmed her down.

“How do you feel?” You sucked your lips inward, both hands on your head to calm the maddening amount of emotion running through your stomach.

His eyes remained fixed on his daughter, still frozen in the position you had put him in. “I don’t know.” He admitted, voice as deep as ever although it had a strain to it.

You nodded. “That’s okay.”

The two of you shared a silence for a minute or two, just entirely in the moment for your daughter and the small babbles she made every now and then. The only consistent sound was her breathing, only audible for the dead silence in the house.

He shifted, “Are you alright?”

You rubbed your arm, looking up at him to find his eyes already on yours. “Mhm.” It was the truth, although he was evidently searching for a different answer. “Just glad you’re home.”

“Have you slept much?”

“Not really. But that’s okay.” The sweet tone of your voice made his shoulders drop, arms relax and his eyes soften. Well, until the baby began to cry and he tensed up all over again, silently panicking while looking to you. “Relax, Si.”

He screwed his face, letting her small hand curl weakly around his finger in hopes she would stop crying. “She’s fine. You’re fine.” A warm laugh escapes you and a slight smile plays on his lips at the sound. “She’s just tired.”

He pushed his arms toward you, gesturing you take her back. He was tired. You could see it in his eyes, “She’s still crying.”

“I couldn’t hear that.” You quip and he tsks, holding his arms out a little further. “Sit with her, it’ll be easier on your arms.” It was a thing for you, wanting him to have her in his arms as often as he could and not scare himself away.

He gave you a predictably unsure look before moving to the sofa. Each step he took was cautious to not stir her even further, sitting down slowly. You leant against the dining table, looking at him from across the room as he mumbled words you couldn’t hear to the baby in his arms.

When he had relaxed, she too calmed down. The steady breathing of his chest created a rise and fall that drifted her to sleep, small fingers still wrapped around his the best they could.

“Are you alright if I shower?”

He looked up in your direction, a flash of a panic appeared across his features. “What do I do if she wakes up?” His glance directed back down to the unthreatening baby in his arms.

“Just talk to her, like you just did.” You walked over, leaning down over the back of the sofa to press a kiss to his cheek. “I know it’s hard, but don’t think about it too much.” Hands placed on his shoulders, massaging into his collarbones.

He hummed in response.

“I’ll be ten minutes.”

Simon only lasted three. Three minutes of staring down at his daughter, alone and full of emotion for her but it wasn’t willing to come out just yet. Fatigue had taken over and by the time you had gotten back, ready to put her down for the night, she was already deep in sleep along with her father.

She was on his chest, arm raised upward to his neck where her tiny fingers touched his skin. His head tilted to the back of the sofa, two hands supporting her while soft snores left him.

Fatherhood.

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

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[toxicanonymity]

leopard print.  

4.5k, joel x f!reader; special guest in tags

SUMMARY: Depraved one shot based on this. Joel mistakes you for a sex worker, offers you a ride, Fs you, shares you and is mildly possessive about it.

WARNINGS: I8+ strangers, drugs, talk of sex work, unsafe public P in V, dubcon (drugs/alc, not noticeably intoxicated), cockwarming, degradation, pantygagging, creampies, car stuff, orgasm delay m, vaginal plugging, voyeurism, sharing. Unedited. 

A/N: Night walks vibes, but different too. You'll see. New fantasy for myself 😫

"And if I was workin'?" You ask.  He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt. . . "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest. . . He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands, tucking it into his waistband.

You pull into the gas station on the back of your friend's motorcycle. "When I fuel up, I'm outta here," he warns you.  Oh well. If you have to walk back to your friend's condo, it's only two blocks.  He's grumpy – You and your girlfriends have been a hot mess at the pool all day playing floating beer pong and licking alcoholic whipped cream off each other.  He didn't wanna take you with him in the first place. No helmet, no reasonable shoes, not even a shirt.

You swing your leg off the motorcycle and as you step down onto the ground with your red wedges, you adjust your cheap, stretchy leopard print miniskirt. It matches, or clashes, with your leopard print bikini. You leave your sunglasses on as you enter the gas station with a chime. You fish a damp $20 out of your bikini top and survey the snacks. 

You feel someone lurking nearby, but ignore it until you hear a deep, smooth voice.  "Nice rosettes."

"s’cuse me?" 

You turn only slightly toward the man. Maybe homeless.  Good looking like a washed up rockstar. He gestures toward your bikini top. "That's a nice set'a rosettes." You look down at your tits spilling out of your push-up bikini top, then you look back at his face. Handsome man, really. Salt and pepper beard. Full head of dark hair with a little gray. Sunkissed skin. His eyes are kind and glassy. His nose twitches. "Oh, that's what leopards call their spots. Rosettes."  

You laugh uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, the ones on your top, those are pretty good.” His eyes drift down your body. “Skirt doesn’t really have’em right. Still nice though.” 

"Thanks." You politely nod and return to looking at the snacks, ignoring him in the corner of your eye. 

He doesn’t leave. He only gets closer.  He looks you up and down and steps into your personal space. He lowers his voice.  "You, uh, workin'?"

No, you don't work there. Do you look like you work at the gas station? Your stomach turns as you realize what he means, and your face goes cold. You stare at him, and your eyes drift to a hole in his shirt right below the collar. "Am I WHAT?" You ask incredulously, but trying to be quiet. Your whole body feels hot at the implication. You're humiliated, but for some reason it makes you warm between the thighs, too. 

His eyes go wide, and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Sorry," he mumbles, then adds, "A man can dream,” as he backs away. 

Your heart races and flutters and you scold yourself for being flattered.  You end up in line behind the guy. And the line takes forever, giving you plenty of time to fume and also wonder about him. It's nothing against sex work – Work is work. But you'd like to think you wouldn't be picking up a rough looking guy in a gas station.  Your friend's motorcycle revs outside. You look out the window and he's there by the curb waiting for you. You could drop the snacks on the closest rack and get the heck out.  But for some reason, you stay in line, and not because you’re that hungry. 

Someone needs to scoot behind you and you're forced to step into the sleazy man's personal space. He smells far better than you would have imagined. Woodsy and fresh. Somehow that makes all the difference, like he's not a filthy vagrant after all. He just had the aesthetic. Which is kinda hot.  Your friend on the motorcycle shakes his head, revs his engine again, then drives away.

"Asshole," you mutter.  

The man in front of you (your aspiring john) glances back and again mutters, "sorry." He scratches the back of his neck and exposes a chain under his ratty t-shirt. He really does have a nice head of hair, and now you see there’s a joint behind his ear, too.  Maybe he’s just a hippy. 

"Not you," you mumble. Well, not only him. Both of them. 

He turns to face you. "I know. Saw ya roll in." Great, so he thought that was your pimp. "Want a ride?" 

"Nah, I’m close," you mutter without looking right at him, then mumble, “thanks.” 

He wets his lips and stares at your chest for a moment before adding, "ya sure?" And now that you know this man smells good, wears a chain, and has a ride, you're throbbing. You cross your arms and bite your lip looking at his handsome nose while his kind eyes search yours in anticipation. 

"Okay," you whisper.

"Hell yeah," he whispers back with half a smile, getting a little closer, like the two of you are plotting something. 

"But I'm not workin'," you remind him.

"Heard ya the first time, gorgeous." He winks at you.

He tries to buy your food for you. When you don't let him, he nods with a smirk. He crosses his big arms, plastic bag that reads “thank you” hanging from one of them, and waits for you. Then he holds the door open on your way out. 

He checks you out as you pass through the door frame. You take your sunglasses off and put them in the bag with your snacks. 

"Name's Joel."  When you don't tell him yours, there’s a new smirk in his voice when he says, "don't gotta tell me your real name, if ya got a street name or somethin'. . ." 

"Jerk." You punch his arm and mostly suppress a laugh. 

He smiles and brings a massive hand to his bicep to pretend like it hurts, and for the first time it hits you how muscular he is.

"Truck's around back." He nods toward the back of the store. He walks slightly behind you. You feel his eyes boring a hole in your ass. Then you feel the warmth of his massive palm on the small of your back and he gets closer to you as he curves his hand around your side. "Too damn hot, baby. Had me thinkin' with my dick is all." Your face heats up and you glance at him. “I’ll carry that for ya.” He takes your bag. 

He's parked around a corner out of view. Between some bushes and a closed library for some reason. His truck is nice, and it's big. Tinted windows. The back window of the cab says Miller Brothers.  It's sunset, so you're grateful for the ride, lest any other low lifes make the same mistake on your walk back. When y'all get to his truck, he lets his hand slide down your hip. He opens the driver’s seat and puts the bags inside. Then he leans against his truck and adjusts himself. He's wearing pinstripe lounge pants.  "Can't really blame me, can ya?" He raises his eyebrows. He scans you top to bottom again.  "God damn, baby." 

You laugh and look down shyly, unsure whether to thank him. His eyes don't leave your body at all.  "To be fair, I thought you were homeless," you admit. 

He exhales a laugh and shrugs.  "Where ya headed?"

"Back to my friend’s pool."

"Hungry?"

"Nah."

"Smoke?" So that’s why you’re still outside the truck. You shouldn't, but you hesitate curiously.

You lean against the bed of his truck with your elbow resting on its edge, facing him.

"Fuck you're sexy," he mutters to himself. "Helluva rack but I'm an ass man, c'mere."

He turns toward you so he's leaning with his left side on the driver's side of the truck. He puts his right hand on your hip, rotating you so you're facing the truck. "Mmmmm." He puts his hand on the small of your back again, then slides it down–slowly, experimentally, cautiously enough for you to stop him. You don't. You're throbbing.  He grabs your ass–his palm is huge. You glance at him and watch his eyes study the curve of your body. Deep down in your body, you know you're gonna fuck him. You both know it. With his left hand he retrieves the joint from behind his ear and puts it in his mouth unlit. 

He sucks in a breath around the joint and lifts the flesh of your closest ass cheek. When he lets it drop, a growl escapes his chest. 

He fishes a lighter out of his soft pants pocket and lights up. and as he inhales, once again he can't keep his eyes off your body.  He takes the joint out of his mouth and turns your face toward his. You rotate toward him and he gets close, your bodies almost touching. He looks to your eyes for permission and begins to slowly exhale downward, so it's yours if you want it. You bring your mouth closer to his and he angles the smoke more toward your mouth as you suck it up. The moment seems to last forever and your lower belly is on fire. 

The sunset washes everything in a pink hue. When his lungs are empty, he murmurs "good girl" and rests his hand on your hip, lightly running his palm over your stretchy little miniskirt, feeling the bump toward the top hem where your bikini tie is. He peels the top of your stretchy skirt down to expose the knot and pulls at the string. You let him untie it. The parking lot is empty and wet from an earlier rain. 

"Fuck you're hot," he mutters with the strings of your bikini hanging over the miniskirt on that side. He takes another puff and passes you the joint. You take only a small inhale. "C'mere," he murmurs and his hand on your waist nudges your side off the truck and pulls you closer to him. He unties that side of your bottoms the same way. 

"And if I was workin'?" You ask. 

He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt.

You ask, "How's that?"

He doesn't take his eyes off your skirt. "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest, feeling where your tits spill over the cups. "Careful sugar," he chuckles. "Start me up, I won't ever stop." He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands so his cock is upright and held in his waistband. He offers the joint again and you decline. He pinches it out and puts it back behind his ear.  "Damn," he mutters, still checking you out. He rubs his hand over his cock through his soft pants. "But ya *ain’t* workin'. . . so ya got nothin' to worry 'bout," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. "''Less ya want it . . ." God, you do. You want it. 

"Wrecked, huh?" You challenge him. 

He sighs and his big hand on your hot skin rotates you back toward the truck.  You hang your elbows over the side of the truck bed. He slinks behind you, then lets the heft of his cock against your ass crack. You gasp at how nice and hard it is. It moves against you and he sucks in a breath through his teeth then lets out a, "Mmm" as he exhales. He rolls his hips against you and uses both hands on your hips to pull your ass back into him so you're off the truck.

He holds you with one arm around your waist and his other hand slides between your legs from the front, up your skirt. "Bad girl, ain't ya?" His hand skims up your inner thigh to the crotch of your swimsuit, hanging loosely now that it's untied on both sides. "Yeah, ya are,” he answers for you. He slides two thick fingers through your folds and you sigh, tilting your head back.  "Spread your legs for a stranger?." His voice is deep and gruff and makes you throb.  “S’okay, not just any stranger.” His other hand grabs a tit while he runs his fingers through your dripping folds, then begins to circle your clit with his drenched digits. "Oh she's beggin' for it, baby," he murmurs. 

He lets your weight against the truck again so his forearm is between you and the metal with his hand still between your legs. His cock presses against your ass at a slow rhythm, making your insides swell with need for him as he fingers your clit. You squirm and your hips rock into his hand. You whimper and he brings his mouth to your ear. "Five hundred," he whispers. 

You gasp and he adds, "Not you. . .I'm workin' now, baby" as he speeds up on your clit. "I'm a penthouse boy, but that's your back alley discount." 

"Fuck you," you laugh.

"First one's free if i cum inside," he murmurs into your neck. Then he grabs the crotch of your swimsuit and yanks it down, pulling it off entirely. He pins you to the truck with his cock against your ass. He shoves the swimsuit in your mouth and ties the strings behind your head. You taste the chlorine and your own arousal. You turn your head to look behind you and he reassures you no one can see. 

His hand returns between your legs and he slips one, then two thick, wet fingers into you. Your cunt squelches obscenely around his digits. "Hell yeah, hear her beggin' for me?". He frees his cock from his pants and keeps fingering you.  Then he slides his fingers out and your walls twitch at the loss. He wedges his cock under your skirt and it’s so big you have to spread your legs more. He runs the head through your folds and you’re gushing. As the head massages your clit, you moan into the swimsuit in your mouth. "Want the first one free, don't ya?" He taunts into your neck, dragging his lips along the delicate skin. "Want me to fill up this filthy hole?" You nod, desperate to feel him inside you. "First with this cock, then all the cum ya can hold," he murmurs and you nod. You tilt your hips and spread your legs. "Good," he breathes. "Good girl." He notches himself with the curve of his tip just inside. "Ready to swallow me whole, hot damn." 

You push back on him and he says, "shit," and pushes into you.  He slides right into you, spreading your cunt wide open with a groan into your neck. It's a delicious stretch and he fills you to the brim, bottoming out on the first go.  "God damn, sugar." He retreats and slides his thick cock into you again, sheathing it entirely with your dripping cunt. You weren't even sure you could take this cock but it's perfect. "Fuck, you feel good," he pants and twitches inside you. If he comes early you're going to laugh but you pray he won't. He begins to roll his hips at a steady rhythm, and you moan into the swimsuit. He breathes heavily against your neck and bites and sucks you. You adjust your hips and push back on him to his rhythm. 

"Take it like a pro," he pants, "an' you're tight, too. Damn." His right hand works your clit.  His left hand comes to your throat, thumb on the left side of it, fingers on the right.  Choke me, you think. Do it. But he doesn't. He licks and kisses at the left side of your throat, by his thumb. Then his fingers on the right of your neck tense for leverage and he plants his teeth on the left side of your neck. He sucks hard and moans into you as he sucks more, like he's thirsty for blood. Your neck aches under the grip of his mouth. He breathes through his nose, and when he finally breaks with a gasp, he fucks you harder, grunting and sighing. 

You moan and he pulls your top down under your tits. A breeze and the rustling of branches nearby reminds you of the danger and you shiver. Your nipples harden under his forearm and palm and your cunt spasms. He groans behind your ear and you whimper and arch your back. 

"Gonna come on this cock?" 

You can only whimper again in response. 

"Go 'head, baby," he breathes and reaches for your clit again, groping a breast with his other hand.

You bite down on the swimsuit and your body jerks into his as you come undone. "Oh yeah," he sighs. "Fuck yeah, ohhh baby." He thrusts into you harder and you moan as your cunt chokes his cock, and with another powerful thrust he bottoms out and begins to erupt with a long sigh, pulsing warmly inside you. Then he reaches for your face and pulls down the swimsuit gag. As you gasp for air, he turns your head toward him. He kisses you deeply with his cock still rutting deep and slow inside you, pulsing the last of his seed into your depths. He moans into your mouth. And when your lips disconnect, he looks at you softly. Your eyes lock for a few seconds, more intimately than you’d expect. Then you feel awkward, and look at the back of his truck–Miller Brothers.  You say the first thing that comes to mind. "Joel Miller, huh?" You cringe at yourself. 

He raises his eyebrows. "What, like the sound'a Miller?" 

Your face goes hot and you make a joke to change the subject. "Your brother’a penthouse boy too?" 

Joel's cock slides out of you and you feel empty. He starts to fix your swimsuit top and says, "Somethin' like that. . .I'll introduce ya," as he finishes straightening it. What are you, dating now?

You start to protest, "Oh, I dunno," then pivot to something more agreeable but noncommittal. “Sure, maybe sometime.” 

—---

Joel walks you to the passenger side. What a gentleman.  He opens the door for you.  The seat isn't empty. There's a handsome man with longer, curly hair, a sexy smile, and his hands in his lap.  

"Name’s Tommy," Joel says behind you. "My lil bro." 

When Tommy lifts a hand to give you a little salute, you see his cock is out of his pj pants.   "Howdy, sweetheart." He's not even shy about it. He raises his eyebrows and holds it at attention for you,  thick and hard.  Butterflies swarm in your stomach and you can't take your eyes off it. "Kept the seat warm for ya," Tommy beams.

"Go on, sugar," Joel nods to Tommy's lap. "’fore my cum leaks out everywhere."

Your heart races and your clit throbs. It feels like you're in a dream. This is so lewd and vile. But you just got pounded in a parking lot, and who's gonna know, and who cares. You wanna sit on that cock. 

You look at Joel and he shrugs. "Don't gotta, but it's there." He leans in and gives you a kis, then murmurs "An’ she won't be leakin’ all over." He chuckles, then kisses you again. Damn, he’s a good kisser. When his head pulls back, you give him a devious, inquisitive look. and he says, "that's my girl." He helps you up and you scrunch up your skirt more. "She's hot as fuck, man," he tells his brother. 

You're facing the windshield, and it's like Tommy’s just part of the seat. It's a large truck so there's enough clearance over your head.  Tommy's large hands come to your thighs. 

"I got her," Joel says and Tommy moves his right hand to hold his cock for you. You tilt your hips and Tommy notches himself at your hole, which is still pulsing with an occasional aftershock. Before too much of Joel's cum can trickle down Tommy's cock, they both pull you down on him and you're stuffed full once again. 

"Good girl," Tommy whispers. Joel looks at you lustily and reaches his hand between your legs. He gives your clit a little rub, and you spasm on Tommy’s cock with an aftershock from Joel. 

"Goddamn," Tommy mutters. 

"Yeah," Joel whispers, then gives you another kiss.  He shoots Tommy a serious look.  "Don't fuckin' come inside her."

"I know, I know." Tommy hugs you back into his broad chest. "I’ain’t nothin' but a seat, honey. A seat and a plug." The crudeness makes you twitch.

Joel shuts the passenger door and goes back around to the driver's side. Tommy murmurs softly behind your ear. "Ya feel nice, though."

Joel buckles his seatbelt and starts the engine.  Tommy rests his hands casually on your hips and his thick cock twitches inside you. He clears his throat.

"Tellin' ya, man," Joel warns. 

"Nothin' to worry 'bout, brother,"  Tommy reassures him, playing it cool. "You used her up good." 

Joel backs up the truck and asks, "Where to?" 

You tell him the building. It's already in view in the distance as you approach the street to pull out from the parking lot. "There," you point to it. Joel opens his Takis and puts a few in his mouth. Your walls are hugging Tommy's cock as Joel eats his snack and drives. You bounce on Tommy's thick cock as Joel pulls onto the main street, immediately getting stuck at a red light.  You moan, and Tommy stifles a grunt then whispers "shhhh,"  into your hair.  It's not a long way. But you're stuck in traffic.  

"What do you listen to?" Joel asks and turns on the radio. It's on the local classic rock station.

"That works," you mumble, laid back against Tommy's barrel chest with your eyes half closed. While Joel is focused on the road, Tommy wedges his hand under one of the push-up cups of your bikini. 

Tommy sighs, then whispers into your right ear where Joel can’t see. "Sexy little thing ain't ya." His cock twitches. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to moan. He lightly pinches your nipple then fixes your suit again. God his cock feels good. You're almost to your friends condo, but you don't want it to be over. 

"Can you, uh–can you take me to my place instead?" You ask

Joel looks at you and cocks an eyebrow. "Not back to the pool?" You shake your head sleepily. "Tuckered out, huh?” he chuckles.  “That's okay baby. Where ya live?" 

You tell him the apartment complex. It's a couple miles further. "Good girl," Tommy whispers, pleased to have you on his cock a little longer. As Joel drives, you feel Tommy subtly lifting his hips. The bumps in the road have you bouncing on him too. And with the slow traffic, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a miniskirt,  you catch a few stares, even through the dark tinted windows. It turns you on more. It turns Joel on, too. He's hard again and rubbing himself over his pj's which are wrecked with drying drops of his cum, your juices, and a darker new spot of precum.  Tommy’s cock is so thick, and it throbs, and occasionally twitches, and you can so freshly conjure the feeling of Joel pounding you too, whispering filth into your ear.  

Your body’s building toward another climax, but you’re trying not to let it. Your cunt spasms, and Tommy's chest expands under your back with a deep inhale. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmurs. You’re almost there. 

"Joel, i–" you reach over for him. He looks at your face and does a double take. "Shit," he peels into the closest corner. "It's okay, hold on for me sugar."

Tommy moans, trying so hard not to cum.  "You better fuckin not,” Joel growls at Tommy.  Joel takes off his seat belt as he parks and urgently takes his cock out. "C'mere baby," Joel reaches for you. Tommy groans and you feel a little pulse as he hoists you off his cock. Your cunt twitches, trying to hang onto Tommy, not wanting to let him go.  Tommy erupts as his cock slides out of you and his cum paints your folds.  He moans through it, cock in his hand, cum gurgling onto his fist, head tilted back, eyes closed. 

Meanwhile Joel pulls you toward him and your cunt is beginning to flutter ever so slightly around nothing, but you’re staving off a full climax.  You kneel on the empty seat between them and Joel urgently pulls you into straddling him. His cheeks are flushed and his face is serious. "yeah, I got ya baby." He wets his lips, then his mouth hangs open as his tip finds your hole and he pulls you down on his dick, even thicker than you remember. "Hell yeah," he whispers and you're packed full of cock again. "Uungghh yeah," Joel lifts his hips into you and you cum on his cock right away. 

"Oh fuck," you gasp, "Joel–ugghgh," you moan unrestrained and tilt your head back. He catches it in his hand and brings your face to his. You clench around his cock and he fucks up into you slowly. Your lips break with moans from each of you as you cum on his cock and he moves you. He hugs you into him and latches onto the unmarked side of your neck. Then your clit is grinding into him as he keeps moving you on him while your climax wanes. 

"So damn hot, baby. Really take it like a pro." His words make you spasm again, and Joel groans. He rocks you on his cock, biting his lip. You can tell from how quiet he is, he’s trying not to cum so fast. But he can’t help it and after a minute, he asks,  "Ready for another load?" You nod, desperate to feel him pulse inside you.  "Think ya can handle it?"

You nod and roll your hips into him. You could come again, too. 

"Hell yeah, that's my bad girl–oh, fuck, fuck–ohhh.” He grunts from the back of his throat as his cock pulses enormously inside you, adding to his first load. As his moan wanes, his lips latch onto yours again. Your lips move together, and you begin to clench around his cock again, whimpering into his mouth with the pleasure. It seems to last forever. When your lips break, he reads your eye and mutters, "fuck, you're hot.”

He breathes heavily while his pulses continue but echo smaller and smaller, as with your aftershocks on him. He sits back against the seat for a moment catching his breath. "You're somethin' else," he whispers, then looks around outside. "What unit are you?" 

You tell him your apartment number and point out the building. You stay impaled on his cock as he drives to that building. He nuzzles his nose and mouth into your neck. He parks the car, then spends another moment with you.  He nibbles your neck, presses sweet kisses into your jaw, fixes your hair, then whispers, "Nice to meet ya, sugar." 

Tommy gets out of the truck and walks around to the driver’s side, and opens Joel’s door. Joel kisses you goodbye, deeply, with tongue, and helps hoist you off his cock. Tommy helps you down out of the truck while Joel tucks his cock away.  Tommy gives you a hug and kisses you on the cheek.  Then they drive away and leave you wrecked and wanting more. 

---------

thank you so much for reading and engaging! I really love and appreciate y'all.

For more Joel and Tommy, check out stuffing.

if you liked this joel... you'd like the night walks AU, If you like the sharing with a hint of dominance/possessiveness, I think walkintotheriveranddisappear has a gang bang where only Joel can cum inside. I have Tommy's hard day (established free use relationship with Joel)

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EDIT - alright I've gotten several messages this week saying notifs aren't working. I think they might be delayed for some people but idk what to do. I guess I'm temporarily bringing this back but idk if it's even the most recent list 🤡 please subscribe to notifs on toxicfics if you haven't already. If you haven't been getting notifs, you can see the most recent fics you missed on toxicfics.

All Joel: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz

@within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @daddy-dins-girl

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: My newest series is finally here, and it's one that I am incredibly excited about. I'm not going to say this is fully a reader-insert, because there will be a few minor characterizations for the main girl, I even considered writing this in third person but at the end of the day second person is the style I'm much more used to and comfortable with. However, I believe it is still "vague" enough that it can be considered a reader-insert too. All in all, I sincerely hope you can enjoy this story, I promise it'll be a good one. <3

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

"Tell me again."

From one of the highest points in the Red Keep, you could see the immensity of King's Landing and the waves of Blackwater Bay crashing to shore.

"Tell you what?"

The wind was cold yet gentle, dusk settled on the horizon; painting the skies and clouds in deep golden.

"The story of how you found your dragon."

You smiled, easy and knowing. Aemond has heard this story a dozen times already, yet you never refused to tell him just one more time, whenever he asked. From the glint in the young prince's eyes, you knew that it gave him hope that one day he would find a dragon of his own.

"My father, Laena, my sisters, and I were traveling again, we had stopped by a small town to let the dragons rest. And there, they told us they had spotted a rogue dragon. As wild as a lioness. She'd come out to hunt at night, during heavy rain and lightning storms." You motioned theatrically with your hands, an excited grin on your lips as you recounted the fateful night you'd met your dragon.

Aemond listened closely, as he always did, leaning his elbows on the balcony's balustrade and keeping his gaze attentively on you.

"One night, when we were staying at a house at the edge of town, I walked out while everyone was asleep. Do you know why?" You bit at the inside of your cheek, playing the usual game.

"You heard her," Aemond answered with the same spark of youthful joy.

"I did," you whispered as if it was a well-guarded secret, leaning closer to the boy. "I could hear her outside, the sound of her wings, her heavy steps on the ground. It was raining, and dark, but I felt as if... as if she was calling to me." You placed a hand over your heart.

"I think Caraxes heard when I got out, I think I ended up waking him," both you and Aemond chuckled. "But he kept quiet when he saw it was me. I walked for a while during that night, until..." You paused dramatically, and Aemond grinned. "Until I saw her, feasting on a stolen lamb."

Aemond's eyes were sparkling, he was drinking in every word.

"She was so pretty," you recalled with a soft smile, looking out to the horizon and the darkening sky. "I could see the dark blue of her scales, and then the brighter blue of her wings. Her horns were long and pointy, and she had this patch of fur in between them and on the back of her neck that I'd never seen before."

"She didn't attack you," Aemond mumbled, more a statement than a question; he knew the answer.

You shook your head; "No, she just looked at me with those beautiful eyes, they looked like they were glowing. And then she came closer, baring her teeth, but I asked her to stay calm. Told her I was a friend." You picked at your nails, a fondly nostalgic look in your eyes. "She followed me back home after that. I think she liked that I wasn't afraid of her. Father was furious for what I had done, but I think he was even more curious about my new dragon." You shrugged, with a cheeky grin, "The next morning, I chose to ride her for the first time, and she let me. We don't know if she ever had a rider before me, but we share a deep bond now."

"You are so lucky," Aemond told you, his voice low and eyes downcast; not because of your story, but because the boy wished to have the same luck you did.

Turning your head to try and catch his gaze, you spoke with conviction, "You're going to find your dragon soon, Aemond, I know you will. And when you do, we're going to fly together over all of King's Landing, I promise you."

Despite the solemn look in his eyes, the young Aemond smiled.

You extended a hand to him then, "Come on, your mother will be mad if we're late to supper… again." Wiggling your fingers for him, you held back a grin.

Aemond rolled his eyes halfheartedly, taking your hand anyway.

You walked together through the hallways of the castle, blissfully innocent and unaware of the amused whispers between the maids about how you two would still marry someday.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Two nights later, Aemond did find his dragon. However, it came at a cost.

The day had been one filled with grief. Laena had passed away after trying to give birth to her third child. While she was not your birth mother, you had spent enough years by her side to consider her something similar to it; as she was, after all, the closest thing to a mother that you knew. She had always been kind to you, treating you no different than how she treated your two half-sisters.

You mourned her loss, the salty air of the sea mixing with the salt of your tears as you watched the ceremony unfold.

As soon as she had learned of her third pregnancy, Laena wanted to return home. Your father eventually agreed to halt the travelers life for her sake, and once King Viserys got word of your return he offered all of you a home in King's Landing again. Laena had been happy with the agreement since her brother lived there too.

And so that's how you came to meet Aemond. That was several months ago, yet it sometimes feels like it was just yesterday.

Tonight, you had gone to bed with red and puffy eyes, but it didn't take long for the distant sound of fast-paced steps and arguing to pull you from your sleep. You got up, rubbed your still tired eyes, and tiptoed towards the commotion, bare feet padding over the cold stone floor of Driftmark.

After turning corners and almost getting lost in the infinite hallways, you found your family. Everyone stood around the lit fire of the throne room fireplace while the Maester tended to someone you couldn't yet see as the back of the chair they were sitting on blocked your view.

Alicent was shouting, Rhaenyra and her sons were shouting, everyone was shouting; you heard the sharp words yet couldn't make much sense of them.

You spotted your father leaning against a pillar, a couple of feet away from everyone, and ran up to him, immediately clinging to the fabric of his vest and looking up at him with questioning eyes. He didn't speak, simply lay a hand on your back and then on your head, in the best comforting manner he could muster.

The shouting match continued until Viserys had to raise his own voice, everyone in the spacious room stayed quiet for a moment then. You could hear your shaky breath, feeling it in your bones that something was wrong. You gripped tighter onto your father, leaning your head against him.

Breaking the silence, Viserys demanded answers from Aemond, and your heartbeat sped up at the sound of your friend's name. And then his mother was speaking about the injustice of him being maimed. And when Rhaenyra mercilessly demanded that he be questioned, Aemond finally looked in her direction, and consequently, yours.

You saw it then. Deep red blood glinting in the low light of the fire, painful stitches stretching skin while also holding it together, his eye sewn shut. You couldn't hold back a gasp at the sight of him, the whole left side of his face now forever marked with an angry, deep cut that went from his forehead, over his eye, and down to the middle of his cheek. Seeing your friend like this twisted your stomach in all the wrong ways and made you feel like puking out your dinner, you were almost poking holes in your father's vest with how tight you were gripping it, already feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears.

Aemond met your gaze from afar, he looked almost as stunned and lost as you; but he was also quick to look away and hide behind the back of his chair again.

You didn't hear much of the rest of the fight then, all turning into muffled noise to your ears as your father took hold of your hand to pull you forward with him and into the commotion when Alicent picked up a dagger, dashing towards Rhaenyra. The sight of Aemond's bruised and slashed face forever burnt into the back of your mind.

The only voice you clearly heard again, was his; "Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You were only able to meet Aemond again on the next day, minutes before both of you had to leave Driftmark.

You found him in a secluded hallway, he looked out at sea through the large windows, watching as they readied his ship for departure, the left side of his face carefully bandaged to keep the cut clean. Holding onto the sides of your dress so as not to step on it, you ran to him.

He heard you, of course he did, you were hardly the sneakiest of people. Part of him wanted to turn away and leave, deeply ashamed of the fresh scar marking his skin; perhaps even afraid that it might scare you off. But you were his friend. His only friend.

"Aemond..." you spoke softly when you reached him, biting at the inside of your cheek and nervously gripping onto the cotton fabric of your lilac dress. You were only kids; you didn't know what to say to someone who'd just lost a part of himself, and Aemond cowered under your gaze, making himself smaller as shame and timidness filled his gut.

"Does it... hurt?" You chose to ask, voice hesitant.

The young prince took his time, pursing his lips as he looked down at his feet and then out the window again. "Yes," he admitted, "but less than it did last night."

"I'm sorry," you said without a second thought.

Aemond glanced in your direction with the corner of his good eye, refusing to turn toward you completely. "Are you not upset that I claimed your step-mother's dragon?"

The corners of your lips turned up into a small smile, it held sorrow and affection in equal measures. "I'm not." You stepped closer to him and turned to look out the window as well, watching as gentle waves washed to shore. You bumped your shoulder onto his. "I'm glad it's you."

For several moments you stood in silence, simply enjoying the easeness that came with each other's company.

Alicent's voice was the one to eventually break the quiet. "Aemond," she called.

Both you and him turned in the direction of her voice, finding her looking at you with a fond smile on her lips. "It's time to go, my dear." She gestured outside, to where their ship awaited, now ready to set sail. Aemond nodded at her words and she turned around, making her way to the docks.

The prince, however, made no effort to leave, he kept his gaze focused outside, following a flock of birds that overflown the ocean.

You followed it too, the sight bringing an idea to your mind. You had a tentative smile on your lips before you even started speaking; "You should go," despite not looking at you directly, you noticed Aemond's attention shifting to you. "I'll meet you again once we reach King's Landing, and... now that you have a dragon, perhaps we'll soon be able to fly over it together, right?" Your voice held a hopeful tone as you spoke.

For the first time since he had lost his eye, Aemond smiled; a real smile that stretched the fresh stitches on his cheek and gave a prickling feeling to the sensitive skin around them, but he didn't mind. He finally turned to look at you fully, all hopeful excitement and pink cheeks.

"We will," he affirmed without losing his grin. He held your gaze for a moment longer, lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't.

From the same window, you watched, now alone, as Aemond's ship sailed away; the colossal figure of Vhagar flying close to it, as if to protect her new rider.

Later this same day, your father married Rhaenyra, taking both you and your sisters to live in Dragonstone without ceremony.

You never said goodbye to Aemond. You would have, if you knew you would not be seeing him again for many years to come.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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