THE CURSE OF CURIOSITY.
Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader
"While your brother searches the library of the Dragonkeeper Elder for something new to read, you come in contact with some unlabeled fluid. You both learn that it's something meant to aid in the breeding of dragons, however, it also has a unique effect on humans. But lucky for you, your twin is there to help you through the ordeal."
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, dub con, sex pollen (rather fluid lol), p in v, breeding kink
WORDS: 4 K
NOTES: Hope you enjoy me having literally zero grasp on English. 🤭
❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
“It’s far too late for us to be here,” you huff, almost annoyed, as you watch Aemond graze his fingers along the spines of the several books kept in the currently deserted chambers of the Dragonkeeper Elder. “What are we looking for here anyways?”
The room is barely lit by anything else than just a handful of candles. Your twin holds a lantern of some sort in one hand, using it to make out the writings that are carved on the books backs.
When there doesn’t immediately come an answer from him, you start to slowly walk around the room, inspecting its decor. “I have exhausted the castle’s libraries, and hope to take something of their collection for my own,” he murmurs, carefully selecting two books.
You stop in your tracks and turn to look at him. Although you’re just a few moments younger than him, sharing the same attributes with your long, silver hair and lilac eyes, you have a much gentler nature than he does, one that doesn’t lend itself to the same mischief you had pursued together as children anymore.
“And you couldn’t have just taken Floris with you? You ought to wed, and doing something together would do no harm to your future union. One sparsely sees you two around court,” you note, slightly annoyed your brother chose to wake you instead of his betrothed.
Knowing all too well that just the mention of the betrothal is going to set him off, you choose to play with fire. If your brother wants your company, he’ll have to put up with your teasing. And just like expected, the notion of being forced into a marriage he doesn’t want to be in irritates him, audible in the sigh he releases. His resentment of the situation has become worse over time as he feels more and more suffocated by the ordeal.
“The girl is as dull as stones. Besides,” he replies with a shrug, “she knows nothing about our family’s history, much less about dragons.” The topic of dragons is something your twin is very passionate about, and you know that the fact that his wife-to-be cares so little about his passion infuriates him. It might be one of the main reasons for his dislike of her. “I have no desire to have Floris at my side any more than she does me.”
His annoyance is palpable, but you don’t feel bad about making it worse. For all the hours he has spent teasing, taunting and annoying you while you grew up together, he gets it back twice and three times over. And although he hasn’t spoken it out loud, you know you’re one of the few people he trusts blindly to be himself around.
“That aside, it would be foolish to read with Floris,” he continues, your silence coaxing him to speak more, “as all she does is gossip with her friends and prattle on about pointless nonsense. You of all people know best how I feel about this match.”
“Floris isn’t so bad, you know,” you defend with a low voice. “And you’ve barely tried to get to know her. Surely you can find at least one thing to like about her. If you did, you might just see she’s not as terrible as you’ve decided.” If you both have to spend your days withering away in marriages sealed by your father and mother, you at least could find a little solace knowing your twin wasn’t as miserable in his.
Aemond sighs in frustration. “You sound just like mother,” he comments dryly, finally moving to look at you from over his shoulder. “Can you really say that you like her? She is dull and naive. I am certain I couldn’t find anything to like about her even if I had all night. There is nothing for me to like about her. Nothing at all.”
Finding yourself at somewhat of a loss of words at this, you open and close your mouth without any words leaving it. Part of you wants to disagree with your twin, as Floris hasn’t been entirely unpleasant to spend time with at court, which makes Aemond’s dislike for her appear entirely without reason to you. On the other hand, you’ve known your brother long and well enough to know when he is resolute about something.
“Just promise me that you won’t be a terrible husband to her. Even if you don’t like her, don’t make your lifes awful,” you finally blurt out.
As you allow your gaze to trail through the chambers once more, you spot some small vessels standing lined up on the desk in the far corner with books and scrolls littered around them. You don’t wait for Aemond to reply as you make your way over, determined to inspect the small containers. The liquid inside of them resembles milk of the poppy, although it’s slightly more permeable to light when you hold it to one of the candles.
You hardly think about the dangers coming with it when you open the lid to inhale a whiff of the fluid. Not smelling entirely unpleasant, it still has you scrunching your nose as a slight burning grows prominent in your nose and throat.
Placing the vessel back down rather quickly, it stands too close to the edge of the desk. You’re not quick enough as it falls to the ground with a clatter, the vessel shattering into pieces and the pale liquid spreading across the floor.
“By the Seven,” you mumble, sinking to the ground to collect some of the larger shards.
The sound of breaking glass and your sighing is enough to catch your brother's attention again. Where he has read the spines of the books before, he makes his way over to the source of the commodation now. “You shouldn’t have dropped that,” he comments dryly, which prompts you to shoot him a heated glare. “Oh, you don’t say, mh?” you reply, your voice laced with sarcasm.
Reaching for another shard, you pull your hand back with a hiss when it cuts your finger. “Ouch!” you exclaim and rise to your feet, soon enough spotting the crimson oozing out of the cut.
Despite his annoyance at your clumsiness, Aemond’s good eye is drawn to the cut you have given yourself. It’s no deep wound, but even the hint of your blood makes something akin to guilt bubble in his stomach. “What were you doing with that?” he inquires, as he takes your hand to inspect your finger, nodding towards the vessels still standing on the desk.
You watch him twist and turn your hand to have the perfect look of the wound, the stinging pain suddenly not too bad with his warm skin on yours. “I… I just wanted to see what they keep here. It is unusual for anyone other than the maesters to store unmarked liquids,” you reply, hissing as Aemond pinches the cut finger a tad too tightly. “I shall see Maester Mellos. Mayhaps this needs stitching.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
Aemond fetches the books he has chosen from the collection, holding them under his arm as he brings the other to you to place a hand to the small of your back, guiding you out of the Dragonpit.
On your request, the cut on your finger is stitched by Maester Mellos, although he has voiced that it wasn’t quite necessary. But something tells you the opposite, especially when you catch him staring at your face and checking your temperature more than once. “Is everything alright, maester?” you ask him with a soft voice, a yawn following.
Aemond towers over the both of you, carefully watching each move of the needle in the elder’s hands, just waiting for him to make a wrong move that’s meant to hurt you – he’s familiar with being stitched up after all.
The maester seems to be out of his mind, and only reacts as he hears you say his name. “Maester Mellos?”
His eyes are wide, but he nods quickly. “Yes… yes, princess. The wound should be able to heal calmly now.”
He is quick to pack his utensils up again, and even faster to leave your chambers at once. And while Aemond hurries after the old man, trying to catch up on him outside of your chambers, you don’t wait for any of them to return again with sleep coming over you.
The crackling of the fireplace is the only thing audible when you stir awake, a sheen of sweat covering your skin, making your nightgown cling to it uncomfortably. Your body feels as though it’s on fire when you squirm from one side to the other, not finding back to sleep. A tingling spreads in your loins, and each time your thighs squeeze together, it surges up your spine.
“Gods be good,” you whine, utterly bewildered with the feeling of liquid fire coursing through your veins.
Aemond not so silently rises from one of the chairs close to the fireplace, and comes closer to the bed, though, careful not to startle or frighten you as you regain your bearings. He has hoped you’d sleep through the entire ordeal and wake up as if nothing has happened, but that hope slowly dissipates with each passing moment.
“How are you feeling?” your twin asks, concern in his voice. Suddenly, hearing his voice allures you, and doesn’t diminish the burning at the apex of your legs.
As you clench your thighs together again, it releases some of the tension your body holds, and makes you whine in despair. “Aemond…” you pant, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths. “What are you doing here?”
The thin sheets covering your body do little to conceal what is happening beneath, and your brother just assumes it’s your way of trying to suppress your bodily urges ignited by the pale liquid you came in contact with before.
“I…” his usual confidence and boldness completely deserts him at the state you’re in, and he can barely find the words to tell you what he’s been told by Maester Mellos.
As he watches you writhe and writhe about on the bed, he’s unsure of how much longer he can just stand there and do nothing. But his concern and love for you cause him to make the decision to act, approaching you and reaching out to grasp your hands.
At the contact, the feeling of his warm hands fully engulfing yours, it’s like something overcomes your mind and body, luring you in to move, staring up at him with wide eyes as you sit on your haunches. “Dohaeragon nyke… kostilus,” you whimper, strands of your silver hair clinging to the damp sides of your face. “Ziry ōdrikagon.. sīr bāne. Nyke sepār – dohaeragon nyke, lēkia.” Yet you don’t quite know what exactly you’re begging for. Help me… please. It hurts… so hot. I just – help me, brother.
In the dim light of the candles, you spot his eye widening as you shift and squirm, looking up at him in such a vulnerable state with your innocent eyes, pleading for him to help you through your ordeal although you have no idea of what’s wrong with you right now. He can’t help but notice how your hair clings to your skin, seeming as if you’ve just bathed, and that your movements seem to contribute to its dampness.
“Mellos has told me what the fluid is that the Elder keeps in his chambers,” he states, trying to stay calm and not let your state affect him too much.
But with his proximity, all effort of you to process what he’s saying is fruitless. You pull on his hands, as if you want to encourage him to join you in bed, and when he doesn’t budge, you rise on your knees, and start to fidget with the buttons of his coat – solely driven by your urges. “And that is?” you mumble, not really listening.
His cheeks run hot when you start to undo the buttons, and his hands capture yours once again to put a stop to it, making you pout. With furrowed brows, his grip finally has you looking up at him. “It’s something used to aid in breeding the dragons,” Aemond states. “He told me it’s also used to increase their stamina and to make them more…” he trails off, his body slowly growing tense as the implication of what he’s going to say settles into his mind. “... receptive to breeding.”
“Mh–Mh,” you hum almost nonchalantly, and watch completely mesmerized as your fingers graze along his, the warmth and softness of his skin only intensifying the tingling in your loins. Aemond is hesitant, unsure whether or not what you’re doing is entirely due to the potion’s effect, or if there is genuinely some desire for him on your part.
You lick your lips and free your hands from Aemond’s to shrug the opened coat off his shoulders. The fabric of his tunic is pinched between your fingers as you tug on it once again to beg for him to join you. With him taking his sweet time, you find yourself clenching your thighs every now and then to soothe the aching burning at the apex of them.
“He also informed me that ‘tis necessary for someone to… help you through it,” he murmurs quietly, his voice almost sounding shaky as he speaks, “... for it will burn you from the inside out if not.”
Even though you’re fully acting on your body's desires, you do notice the way his widened eye trails down to your thighs, lingering there for a moment before it returns to yours.
You don’t give a verbal response to his words, and instead, your only reactions are subtle ones. Nodding your head slowly, as if you’ve understood what he is implying, your hands squeeze his tunic further into his chest. He can practically see your body tensing with each movement of your fingers, almost as if you’re trying to hold back.
With your eyes firmly locked with his now, you slowly trail your hands beneath his tunic, pushing it up to remove that as well from his body to get further access to him – if it wasn’t for him not raising his arms.
Exhaling a deep breath, you sit back on your haunches. His reluctance does little to quell the fire raging within you, no, it only fuels to make you even more desperate. The lacey hem of your nightgown rides up your thighs as you spread them, and fully exposes your undergarments the moment you bring your hand between your legs. A breathy whimper falls past your lips as your fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt, and then something akin to mischief flickers in your lilac eyes.
“And… will you help me, brother? Or shall I ask Jacaerys for help instead? We ought to wed in a moon's turn after all,” your voice is honeyed as you speak, dripping with feigned innocence. “But you don’t want that, do you? That’s why you’ve stayed.”
You spot the exact moment his breath hitches in his throat. He suddenly feels a wave of heat overcoming him, your words triggering something in him that is more than just the usual desire to protect his younger sister, something primal. You sound and look so vulnerable asking for his help, secretly begging for him and him only.
Intertwining your fingers with his, the intensity of your grip increasing as your senses become more heightened, your twin finally moves as you pull him onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as you watch him come closer, and when he is close enough, you reach and pull him down onto you in a quick motion. You don’t waste a second more and lock your lips with his, your hand slowly traveling down his back. But before you can grab his tunic and pull it over his head, Aemond pushes you back to lie flatly on the bed, pinning your wrists above your head. His eye burns with hunger as he gazes down at you, visible even in the dim light, and it makes you yearn for more.
“Well, if I chose to leave you here to your own devices, would you crawl to your betrothed for help? I do not think so,” he says, his voice taking over a mocking tone. “No, in fact, I’m certain you would come to my chambers instead.”
When he doesn’t touch you, you try to wrap your legs around his body to grind yourself against him, but Aemond is quick to catch your hip with one hand, keeping your body still as it's pinned to the mattress.
“Sir, dohaeragon nyke,” you beg, voice shaky enough it comes close to a whimper. But when you notice that speaking in the tongue of your ancestors is not having any effect on him at all, you choose to coax him to tend to you in the Common Tongue. “Touch me, Aemond. Help me… please.” Now, help me.
Aemond is silent for a moment, visibly dragging his eye over your squirming frame. One hand still holds your wrists above your head, while the other slowly but surely releases your hip. “I shall take care of you,” he reassures you. “But you will have to let me, do you understand?”
You gaze up at him with wide eyes and slowly nod your head, only for you to pounce on him the moment your wrists are released. The tunic is gone as soon as your body collides with his, causing a strained gasp to leave your twin’s lips. While just the thoughts of his warm skin on yours have incite your mind already, seeing his bare chest sets your body alight.
His demeanor changes in the blink of an eye, and he has never treated you as roughly as he does when he pushes you off of him. It leaves you dumbfounded for a moment, more so when he moves between your parted legs, towering over you.
“Look how dull this fluid has made you,” he mocks, the condescending tone of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. Aemond notices that you’re not shying away from him, no, you keen at that. “Just because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“If I help you,” he warns, “no one else, let alone that bastard of a nephew, is ever allowed to touch you again, do you understand?”
It might be the liquid-induced state, or the despair to have him do anything to you already, but you’re far too eager to nod at his words.
Aemond’s hand wanders below the hem of your nightgown to heartily fist your undergarments and peel them off of you. He can already feel that the linen is soaked with your arousal, but still can’t stop himself from licking his lips as he sees your now exposed cunt glistening in the light of the candles.
“Now, we do not want you to suffer any longer, hm?” he asks.
And you nod once again. “Gods, yes, please. I need you, Aemond.”
You don’t have to beg him any longer. He undoes the laces in the front of his breeches and pulls out his throbbing cock, painfully hard and aching to be buried inside of you. It’s slightly curved and thick, and if you have to guess, you’d say that you need both hands to pleasure him, and even then there’d still be a bit of him that would be left abandoned.
Aemond wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, pushing into you as you both moan in unison. You don’t expect him to set up a merciless pace almost immediately upon fully bottoming out, but you’re not disappointed either.
While you’ve been able to talk before, he’s quickly reduced you to a whimpering and whining mess, relishing in the delicious burning of accommodating his sheer size.
“Does it help?” your twin asks through gritted teeth, desperately trying to keep his sounds of pleasure at bay. But you’ve been fucked into a stupor by him already, not even able to keep your eyes open. “Mh-mh,” you hum.
Putting some of his weight onto you, Aemond’s hand finds your throat like the most treasured necklace you only take off to sleep, taking up the entirety of your neck and leaving no room for you to shift even the slightest.
It was subtle at first, but the merciless pace slowly changes into something more determined, his hips rolling with each thrust as if he wants to make sure the tip of his cock really brushes your sweet spot every time. He’s seemingly spurred on by the way you’ve lost all inhibitions, not that the fluid allowed you to have any in the first place, and the wanton moans that spill past your lips.
One of your hands grabs his wrist, keeping his hand around your throat, while the other finds solace on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. Your nails dig into his alabaster skin, and you’re sure that crescent shaped marks will bloom there not long after, staking your claim on him.
“But you need more,” Aemond grunts, and you can’t do more than whimper a pathetic string of yesses. “The only thing that will truly help you is for me to fill you up with my seed, to breed you.”
Your head tips back in plain bliss, and you’re not sparing one thought to the possible repercussions of him putting a child in you. If anything, there is something buried deeply inside of you that has waited for this moment. You have waited for this moment. You grew up thinking you’d marry your twin one day, only for the rising tensions inside of the family to force you to marry your nephew instead as the final straw to mend the chasm.
Aemond’s stamina doesn’t seem to be able to handle the way your body reacts to him and his words – not when a renewed wave of your arousal drips from your cunt at the mere thought of you carrying his child. It’s running thin, ready to burst at any given moment, hence he brings a deft finger to your pearl, rubbing it with frantic movements that should bring you to peak just in time with him.
The pressure brought to your pearl has your body squirming, not anticipating it and the shiver of pleasure that comes with it. You arch your back and moan, yet a tight squeeze of your throat is enough to bring your attention back to him.
“Do you want that?” he pants, dark blown eyes fixed with yours. “Want me to put a babe in you?” It might be his way to ask for your reassurance, and while your body’s reaction should be enough with your walls clenching around him so tightly, he stills wants to hear your voice.
Your cheeks grow hot as his words finally seem to settle in your hazed mind, a whiny ‘yes’ slipping past your lips. “Fill me up, Aemond… please. I want it,” you all but beg, your voice croaked with him squeezing your throat.
The confession flips a switch inside of you that allows you to let go, your body shattering beneath Aemond with a pathetic whine. He relishes in the way your walls flutter and spasm all over him, utterly mesmerized as relief etches itself into your features.
With a groan, the first wanton sound of pleasure you’ve heard of him, Aemond spends himself inside of you. He connects your lips in a heated kiss that has you swallowing down each grunt and groan he unleashes. Working you both through the blissful highs, his hips only stop once he’s sure he’s fucked his seed as deep as possible, determined to put a child in you.
Aemond topples over into the vacant space next to you, his breeches soaked with your arousal and his chest heaving with his breaths.
The sudden loss of friction makes you whine at first, but is quickly overshadowed by the feeling of relief. “Thank you,” you whisper through heavy breaths, turning your head to look at him.
“I won’t leave now,” he says softly, although there is a linger of mischief in his voice. “I would be remiss not to aid my sister in her hour of utmost desperation… so, I shall stay the night just to make sure you really get through it.”
Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat
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╭──────────.★..─╮
One Night With You
~ Part 3 ~
╰─..★.──────────╯
(Mike Schmidt x Reader)
Summary~ The night starts to heat up between you and Mike after a few shots. 1.7k word count
Read part 1 & part 2 for context <3
Tags~ SMUTTT, pet names, olderbf! Mike (you're 20, he's 28), fem reader, public-ish sex, dominant Mike, submissive reader, creampie, drinking
Note~ I wrote this is a day!!???!!! Big shout out to my coworker Malachi who helped me with the direction of this fic! Heads up, I did minimal proofreading on this hoe bc it's deadass 3am and I have to be up in 5 hours for work (send help). I'm debating if I want to continue with this story so if you want me to update lemme know :33
⊱✿⊰
You furrow your brows with determination, "Fine! Don't expect me to drag you home when you black out though!"
"You actually think 3 shots are gonna fuck me up that bad? You're hilarious" he chuckles as he tilts his glass towards you. You take the shots in unison and glare at each other, scanning for any reactions to the alcohol.
Mike hiccups finally giving you the opportunity to pester him. "Aww is it too much for you? Should we slow down?" you assert in a sarcastic and flirtatious voice.
He flutters his eyes trying his best to adjust to the intoxication, "You won't be laughing when I say that to you later tonight..." Mike says while holding back a laugh
You punch him in the arm and giggle, "Oh yeah?" You gulp back your third shot, immediately feeling the sense of relaxation hit. It's like all your problems and worries fade away into nothingness when you drink. You meet Mike's gaze, wanting to hear more about him. "So... what's up with you lately? If you're going to take me out, the least you can do is tell me a few of your secrets."
"I mean, life's been rough lately but... when isn't it, Y'know? It's one always one thing after another." You can hear the frustration in his voice as he swirls around his glass, avoiding eye contact. Mike looks around the bar and then down at your hands.
"Yeah... I know. My fucking job blows and all I want to do is just- start fresh... no more late nights working my ass off just to miss rent again." The drunken state you're in is allowing your emotions to spill out with no hesitation.
"Believe me I'm in the same boat. I mean..." he sighs and rubs his temples. "I work as security for an abandoned pizzeria like....it's fucking abandoned! What am I actually securing dude!" Mike buries his face in his hands, feeling insane for working such a dead end job. "There's people my age with degrees and real accomplishments under their belt and what am I doing? Wasting my life days at a time for shit hours and pay."
You grab his hand and hold it tight. "Mike... I'm literally a stripper... I'm in no place to judge" you say in an attempt to lighten the mood and smile at him. "We do what we do for a reason, right? To keep a roof over our heads... and to go out drinking!" He chuckles at your words and takes a deep breath.
"Yeah...." Mike grips your hand tighter and wets his lips before speaking, "You wanna take a walk?"
"Sure! Fresh air won't hurt." He holds your hand to help you out of the booth and guides you to the parking lot. With it being a small town it, isn't so crowded out. Cars occasionally pass by as the warm breeze cools you both down. You look up at the night sky, amazed by the twinkling stars. Mike stares at you longingly and smirks. He can't think back to the last time a girl made him feel the way he does right now
"Isn't it so beautiful, Mike?" you say while gazing at the stars.
"Yeah.... definitely" he responds still taking in your features. His chest tightens and thoughts begin to race in his head. Mike didn't want to ruin the moment by taking things too fast but god did you look breathtaking right now. "So beautiful..."
You peer down at him and notice he hadn't looked up once and was fully referring to you. This causes a pink color to rush across your cheeks and you move closer to him. He caresses your cheek and plays with a strand of your hair. "Y-you... you don't have a boyfriend, right?"
You seductively respond back at him, "You want to change that, sir?" Mike swiftly wraps his hand around the back of your neck to bring you in to meet his lips. His kiss is hungry for more, clearly desperate for your embrace. He's completely given up on taking it slow.
You pull away and look up at him, your eyes glassy from the drinks. The lip gloss you wore transferred onto his lips. "You sure about this? I know we were drinking and I don't want-"
"Mike..." you roll your eyes at him, wanting him to take control.
"I just don't want to be too rough on you... or ruin my chance with you." he says in a low voice.
"All that flirting earlier and you're backing out now? Don't you want to..." you pout at him playfully, "teach me a lesson for going out with strangers?" A little giggle escapes you when suddenly you're grabbed by the wrist and dragged to the alley next to the bar.
"Do you want this? Yes or no. No bullshit, tell me now." he exclaims as you're backed up against the wall, him towering over you.
"Y-yes sir I do..."
He reaches his hand up your skirt and feels up and down your lacy panties. "You wore these for me, hm?"
"Y-yeah I did... Do you like them?"
"Of course I do sweetheart. Very kind of you to do that for me" He starts pulling them to the side, eager to feel your arousal. He slips his finger in to rub small circles with your wetness. "All that from some kisses? What an eager little girl, so adorable"
"I really like you- that's all!" You're not sure why Mike is making you feel this shy and bashful. You'd like to think you're very dominating towards men due to your profession but he's proving this to be false very quickly.
He grabs you by your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes and speaks. "Promise me that if at any point you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, you'll tell me...okay?"
You mumble this promise over and over again while feeling up on him through his jeans, your excitement for what's to come literally dripping out of you.
"That's a good girl. You're an amazing listener, do you know that? Keep it up, kiddo" he teases. He turns you around to face the brick wall and pushes your skirt up. "You ready for me?"
You nod your head quickly, overcome with passion.
"Use your words, pretty girl. You can do it."
"Yes... I'm ready, I promise!"
"Yes, who?" Mike says in a commanding manner.
"Yes, sir..." Your legs tremble uncontrollably and your breath accelerates, something about the thrill of possibly being caught is turning up the heat.
He slowly pushes into you, letting you adjust to his cock. "Theeere we go... How does that feel, babygirl?" He bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix ever so slightly.
"It's g-good sir... feels good" The euphoria from the shots and his length are sure to collaborate with each other in your body.
Mike starts to thrust slowly, using your hips as leverage. Small whimpers and moans slip out of you. "I bet it does... You're so tight around me... I seriously don't know how you're not taken already... A pretty girl with a tight pussy like this should be fuckin' married by now."
He pounds into your cunt harder almost as if he's mad at you for being single. The sound of skin on skin fills the dark alley. Your eyes roll backwards when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, pushing you closer to the edge of breaking. "Sir p-please... can't go for much longer... S'too much" you beg.
"You can take more, I know you can. Hang in there for me, okay? He says this in such a genuine way, it's only making you fall for him more. You're really hoping this isn't a one night stand situation.
He grunts and moves his hands around your neck, putting you into pretty much a headlock. His cock throbs violently in you, threatening to release soon. "Fuuckk I needed this..." You arch your back against him allowing for your g-spot to be avoided as to not cum quickly.
He instantly noticed this shift and pulls you back up, "You wanted this, don't run now..." There's a hint of condescension in his words. You moan loudly when he juts harshly into your poor pussy, leaking with fervor.
"Can you stay quiet for me baby? Just a little longer, okay? We can't have people finding us out here, right?"
"B-but sir-"
"No buts princess... That's a direction. What happened to my good little listener?"
You pout and bite your lip to hold in the moans begging to topple out of you. Only small whimpers and whines allowed you remind yourself mentally as he continues on. He purposely rubs on your spot with his thick cock and sneaks a hand down to toy with your swollen clit, guaranteeing to make you cum any second.
"M'gonna... gonna cum... Mike please!!!"
"Cum on my cock like a good girl, baby. You deserve it after all..." You quiver and whimper as you reach your limit, your pussy clenching down onto his member. You squirt from the stimulation, dripping down on your legs and leaving a wet spot on his jeans. Mike's thrusts get sloppier and his moans get heavier simultaneously.
"Y-you're on the pill, r-right?" You nod aggressively with his hand over your mouth to block your screams of pleasure. "G-good... gonna ffuckin' cum inside- shit... fucccckk...." He pumps all his cum into you, whining into your ear. He keeps his cock stuffed inside your hole so he can catch his breath.
"You did very very well baby.... I'm proud of you" he says while stroking your hair. When he pulls out, little drips of cum leak down your thighs. Mike pulls your panties back into place and pats you on the head. "Ready to head home, little one?"
You turn around to face him and smile from being fully fucked out and cockdrunk. "Cooould I... come home with you maybe?"
⊱✿⊰
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vague wishlist thread ideas
sorted by character (types?)
i have some thoughts sometimes about things i wanna do with vox, plots && ideas. some of these are vague or more specific, && some are just settings or aus. putting a cut for dashboard sake. might link in pinned, will tag appropriately. might add more later.
general interactions / with anyone
vox at the hotel in either seeking redemption or as an investor
vox being injured or your muse fighting him in some capacity
vox stepping in to protect your muse with the goal of taking advantage of the dynamic. soul contract / employment or even just general favor owing
redeemed vox in heaven?? hello?
overpowered au content. this post sorta explains the vibes. he's super paranoid, very powerful, but surprisingly easy to be chill with if you behave well.
role swap vox with anyone literally. the only real one ive considered is alastor, in depth. he's an old - fashioned box head, perfectly modern inside for efficiency but looks like he belongs in the decades he lived in. very gentle, very empathetic && sweet. contracted to lilith (mine unless someone else wants to contract him) && helps the hotel.
vox being contracted to someone else.
arranged marriages / marriages of convenience
human verse stuff!! from either when vox was alive (1898-1945) or i'm happy to play with timelines in aus
bridgerton au, vox is george taylor, a wildly sickly man with too much money && a rake mostly. a lord by blood.
hanahaki. unrequited love that gives them diseases, any ending.
his self - punishment room being discovered.
vox in therapy lmaoo
fake dating.
with valentino
valentino having to fix vox
their toxic / possibly sweet relationship when they're on
vox being jealous / possessive
a break up?? if they're on / off it feels like something that happens a lot, i find them fun to write
marry each other smh tax benefits or domestic, either
valentino saving vox / vox saving valentino
with velvette
vox saving her in any way
her having to fix him post a fight or something else
vox modeling for her
ship stuff is fine, just as like, qpr stuff or mentorships
vox being over protective even if he really shouldnt be
with charlie
vox investing in the hotel for any reason (be it her askance, his own idea, or someone else's, or even seeking redemption ). might be genuine, probably more for info gathering
vox offering to personally assist in repairing the hotel
vox saving charlie from danger for fun bc its always good to have someone owe him something
with husk
knowing husk in his overlord times ( pre show / au )
vox having invested in husk's casino
vox being husk's contract holder for some reason?? could be fun
vox n husk fake dating for any reason i saw art for it once listen
with lucifer
vox seeking lucifer's creation expertise in early years (he was an entrepreneur once)
vox doing work / helping with lulu world being created as resident like, electronics man
vox making a deal with lucifer in some capacity, not necessarily Big Deal but you know
with angel
vox protecting him
vox saving him from valentino's ire (on acccident or otherwise)
vox having to step in for valentino on set lmaooo
angel && vox bonding over their similar experiences with val
vox caring for angel post a valentino encounter
angel for some reason being under contract with vox (different work/different expectations)
with rosie
the two having been close during vox's active relationship with alastor?
vox doing business with rosie / i.e. providing her with bodies or people from his territory in exchange for allyship
him investing in cannibal town somehow. owning property / providing funds for rennovation
tea parties?? him cooking for her?? her teaching him how to make cannibal - based food??
with alastor
alastor having been a mentor to early - hell vox
au in which the two have always remained working together, i love the concept. very media husbands coded but also not necessary to be romantic.
all the backstory, their friendship pre - show, especially the event that actually led them to split. i like to hc that they several things that slowly pushed them apart until vox invited him to the vee's right before alastor disappeared (this is dependent of course on the alastor / those hcs but)
au where alastor actually joined the vee's
au where vox offered alastor his soul in exchange for them remaining "friends". does not have to be a very sweet dynamic ofc
vox cooking for alastor / other vaguely domestic things
generally reconciling bc yknow
vox dying!! in alastor's arms!! or the other way around!! (not necessarily permanent but yknow)
RadioStatic of all flavors, unrequited/unspoken/QPR/exes/anything.
the role swap from above.
with other vox's
i love duplicate interactions
the girls are fighting
playing into the doubling && working together
vox trying to help the other vox get back home properly
other vox (or himself) being a clone on purpose
upgrading / fixing each other
protecting each other
left brain right brain vibes???
au swaps? a role reversal vox meeting a regular vox? timeline swaps? one vox is from the 70's one vox is from modern times? one vox who is still friends with alastor && the other who isn't?
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"What the fuck did you do?"
Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.
"Well-"
"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"
Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.
“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”
“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”
No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-
He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.
The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since.
Jesus Christ.
“Eddie?”
The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”
In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄
”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“
Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-
He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.
”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.
“Eddie, what-
”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“
Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious.
Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.
Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.
With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-
Anything other than what Steve actually sent.
'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'
And Eddie-
Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath.
Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?
This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.
‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’
He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.
‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’
Fuck fuck fuck.
Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’
Steve saves him by sending another message.
‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’
He- What-
Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.
There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.
‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’
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