#he's all curled up on the armchair... i love him

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༉‧˚📖❀༉‧₊˚."the craving"༉‧˚🤍❀༉‧₊˚.PART 2

Read Part 1 here 🤍

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 7200

summary: After your night at the inn, the tensions between you and your betrothed Jacaerys are running high. Finding yourself curious about the kind of lascivious literature your prince has been reading, you decide to go on the search yourself - with pleasant consequences for the both of you…

warnings: pining, the return of the infamous Targaryen kamasutra diary, oral sex (female receiving), making out, handjob, aftercare, cuddling

a/n: there is going to be a third and final part after this one <3 let me know what you think, I always love to chat and thank you for the love Part 1 got!

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃

You had always loved the library of Dragonstone.

The endless shelves bursting at the seams with history provided a peace and quiet you sometimes found lacking in your life, especially recently with the dark shadow of war looming over your family.

As you wandered through the many narrow passages between the books, you felt your mind calm down. With only the distant sound of the wind outside and a few busy scribes working around you, you dedicated yourself to your mission of the day.

You were not going to leave the library empty handed, not before you’d found what you desired; the mysterious diary Jacaerys had spoken of, in the night back at the inn…

The truth was simple, yet tangled and slowly driving you to the brink of your sanity; every night since your return to Dragonstone, you found yourself unable to sleep, at the brim of madness. Memories of Jacaerys and you, pressed against each other in the small bed as he slowly took you apart with his fingers and lips, haunted you.

You wondered if it only had been a desired dream, since your betrothed had gone back to being sickeningly sweet and attentive to you after your return. Jacaerys had taken most of his mother’s blow and the angered worry for the both of you, defending his choice to keep you safe through the night in front of the Queen’s entire council.

Standing beside him, your cheeks had been undeniably red as he had recounted the night of the storm, purposefully leaving out the part where he had fingered you to a mind-blowing orgasm, of course.

After the questioning, you two had fallen back into the same old dance and its rhythm as if your feelings for one another still had to be suppressed. But perhaps being sweet and chivalrous was Jace’s own method to keep himself under control before your long-desired union.

After all, you certainly did not have such methods for yourself.

The late hours in your chambers had been spent staring at the ceiling and listening to the waves crashing against Dragonstone. Tossing and turning, you had only been able to imagine the ghost of his touches on your skin, over and over, until you had to either firmly press your legs together or rarely indulge in your own wild imagination and the world of pleasure Jacaerys had opened up for you…

Since his quarters were close to yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if the same frustration sought him out at night and if he dreamed about your lips on his, your wetness on his veiny hand as he touched your most intimate part…

You took a deep breath and focused once again, traveling along the shelf where diaries and old reports were stored. A pleasant burn rested in your stomach, knowing Jace might’ve stood in the exact same place as you or would even return here to find that his precious book had been taken…

You grinned as your fingers drifted over a particular bound spine, a victorious flutter going through your chest as you noticed the lack of dust on it, although someone had seemed to hide it in the second row.

This was going to be a very interesting evening.

A little later, you were back in your quarters, curled up in the cozy velvet armchair by the high windows and completely absorbed in the book resting on your lap.

The diary you had hidden underneath your cloak on your journey back was open, a well-kept secret of your family now in your hands. In the privacy of your own four walls, you silently thanked your prince for his erudition as your eyes darted across the old rough pages.

You quickly discovered that the diary had been written by a nameless female ancestor of yours, her old ink writing elegant but faded. Her entries stretched themselves over nearly two decades, starting with her very first intimate encounter with a man and continuing to describe the adventures of her youth until she eventually found her forever love.

At the bottom of the very first page, she had scribbled: to all the princesses after me and their princes who should do good to take proper care of them. The little dedication made you smile.

Soon, you had begun to devour each entry without even noticing, the thrill of knowing Jace’s fingers had turned the same pages only spurring you on in your eagerness. And this diary was certainly…something.

It was lustful and forbidden and very, very detailed. You nearly choked on your own breath once as your dear ancestor had not spared any sexual details in her vivid descriptions, the stories sometimes accompanied by tasteful sketches of what her tumbling had looked like. You had never seen anything like it and soon, you found yourself squeezing your thighs together with your heart pounding in excitement.

Your thoughts wandered away from the current story and imagined how Jace must’ve felt reading those filthy passages. In front of your inner eye, you saw him sprawled out in his bed, dark curls resting on the pillows and his face brightened by the candles on his bedside table.

Had he been as aroused as you were feeling now?

In the inn, he had told you all he could’ve imagined while reading was you and your cheeks burned with realization, possessing the full knowledge of what he had meant back then. Did he find relief for himself when it had become too much, clinging to the book with one hand as the other slowly played with himself underneath the blankets? Did he whisper your name, squeezing his beautiful eyes shut as he-

A knock at your door sharply cut through the silence and you startled, nearly dropping your precious reading matter. Quickly, you cursed and put it back on the small table beside you, brushing out your skirts and taking a deep breath.

“Yes?”

Your heart skipped a beat as the door opened and Jacaerys peeked into your room, a small worried frown on his youthful face. “Good evening. Are you alright?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to come inside. Your betrothed closed the door behind himself and walked up to you as your eyes began to travel on their own, over the red and black of his attires, his dark curls lush and glossy in the candlelight of your room.

“I was worried about you.” Jace confessed to you, raising your hand to his plump lips and kissing the knuckles in greeting. This was a new habit of his and you were not complaining, although the small gesture always made you weak in the knees. “We missed you at dinner. I brought you something to eat, in case you weren’t feeling well.”

Only now you realized how dark the sky behind your windows had gotten already. Gods, how much time had you already spent with this book?

Your chest warmed at the sight of a well-filled plate in his hand, presenting everything he knew you liked from the kitchens. With a grateful smile, you admitted: “Thank you. I’m alright, I simply must’ve forgotten the time. I was…occupied.”

Jace raised an amused eyebrow at your odd explanation, placing the plate on the table, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Shall I leave you to it then?”

“No.” You answered quickly, your heart already longing for him although he was right in front of you. “I’d love some company. We’ve both been busy lately.”

Lately. Ever since the night of the storm, but you had not talked about the events at the inn since then.

Jacaerys let out a small – relieved? – sigh at your answer and the two of you sat down in the armchairs, your stomach growling at the variety of food your betrothed had organized for you. After a moment, you lifted your gaze to his and added quietly: “I missed you.” And it was true in more than one way.

“I missed you, too.” He replied in a heartbeat and watched you peacefully as you began to eat. The unexpected dinner was a wonderful treat after a long day like this, but it was not enough to distract you from the fact that you had not really been alone like this ever since that night. “I have not been neglecting you on purpose, I promise. You are way too dear to me for that.”

You looked at him with big eyes, quietly munching on a small sweetmeat as you shook your head. “I was not thinking such a thing, Jace. I know how busy your day is, now more than ever. Has your mother fully forgiven you by now?”

As you had foreseen, Rhaenyra had been out of her mind with worry when you had not returned as appointed and had given her son a very stern talk right in the dragon’s cave where you had eventually arrived at with your dragons. (The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if your dragons would’ve been able to take the late flight back to Dragonstone that night. If their sudden change of behavior – your own creature more affectionate towards Jace and Vermax oddly cuddly with you - could be any indicator, you almost suspected your beasts had somehow made a pact with each other to bring you closer…)

Jace sighed and rested his head against the back of his armchair. “I try to make it up to her every day, believe me. But if thrown into a situation like this again, I would not choose any different. I’d always choose you. Us, together and safe.”

“I’d choose the same.” You whispered breathily, your heart singing way too fast for an innocent confession between betrotheds like this. Underneath your conversation, something desiring and dark slumbered, only waiting for the right moment to jump out and remind you of your spent time between the sheets together. You swallowed, quietly adding: “You protected me that night, from the storm and my own reckless decision I would’ve made and I am grateful for it. I have told the Queen so myself.”

“I know.” He gave you a soft smile, the one that was only reserved for you, his princess. “I think deep down she has forgiven me already. She just likes to see me working even harder these days.”

You chuckled, taking a bite of a ripe strawberry with relish. When you looked up again, Jace’s eyes already were on your lips, how they curled around the sweet fruit and your tongue darted out to lick the juice from your fingertips, his dark pupils blown wide, body tense.

Suddenly, the dress on you felt way too tight for your body, your senses widening under his intense stare. But just like that, the moment was over and Jacaerys cleared his throat, causing you to go back to your dinner.

You wanted to curse yourself for your own timidness. You had shared far more than a space like this before your betrothed knew how you tasted and felt on his fingers and even before your wedding night had happened. So why were you so flustered out of the sudden?

In an unobservant moment, Jace casually reached for the book on your table and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You were helpless to watch as his eyes widened shortly with recognition, looking intently at the subtle cover.

“This is…” You had no idea how you wanted to end this sentence.

Jacaerys opened the diary right where you had placed a soft ribbon between the pages, his eyes skimming over the page before he looked up at you with a sly grin. “Ah. One of my favorite chapters.”

Oh gods.

Both embarrassment and excitement pulsed through you as heat crept up your neck at his knowing smile.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He asked adoringly, his fingertips softly tracing the ribbon. “Was my description not vivid enough so you simply had to find out for yourself, to see if I lied?”

You proudly lifted your chin, trying to feign confidence and ignore the shaking of your hands at his look fueled with unfiltered desire.

“Of course you have not lied to me. You were way too…” You bit your lip, your mind traveling back to the way he skillfully crooked his fingers against your sweet spot, dirty words leaving his heavenly mouth as he praised you… You cleared your throat, brushing your hands out over your skirts. “I knew you weren’t lying, but I had to see for myself. For…educational purposes.”

Jace nodded slowly and hummed thoughtfully. “I knew you were curious…” He leaned forward and offered you the book back. A notch confused, you took the diary from his hands, the old clothbound almost familiar already in your grasp. “And believe me, I am not here to interrupt your education tonight, princess.”

A low fire sizzled through you at the mischievous smile he gave you. It was a smile you couldn’t resist and you prayed you knew what this meant for you tonight. After all, you were going to be Jacaerys’ wife, sooner rather than later, and he was going to be your husband. You blinked at him innocently before you reclined against the pillow in your back, your fingers brushing over the golden edges of the diary.

“How considerate of you, my prince.” You said sweetly and a quiet exhale left Jace’s lips, clearly affected by your playful undertone. “Maybe we can learn together. That is, if my betrothed doesn’t have any other plans for the night?”

A dazzling grin made its way on Jacaerys’ face and with an elegance only the prince could possess, he leaned back against his armchair as well. He gestured invitingly to the diary in your hands and nodded at you encouragingly. “By all means, go on.”

Gods, in what situation were the two of you stirring yourselves into once again?

You forced yourself to remain composed in front of him, opening the book once more and beginning to read. But you only managed to drift over a few words before Jacaerys’ voice cut through the comfortable silence of the room and your head snapped up.

"Out loud." He said, simple yet demanding, his eyes burning embers sending a shiver down your spine.

"W-what?" Your voice sounded thin, perhaps a little intimidated but also...intrigued by your betrothed's command. The look in his eyes was the same he executed in the council room, sharp and attentive and willing to fight for what was his.

"I want to hear your voice." He explained, softer now. "Please read to me, princess."

You stared at him and the heat from before in your rosy cheeks started to spread like dragon fire, claiming your entire being. The dress on you felt way too tight and although you were not wearing your clammy riding leathers anymore, the same tension had now taken possession over you. And it was all because of the prince seated across from you.

Jace rested his chin in the palm of his hand, licking his plump lips as he kept your eyes captive with his own. After a moment, he nodded, a small encouragement you needed to return to the page in front of you.

With your finger ghosting over the soft ribbon, you began to read:

“When I met him that night, it was like our previous encounters from before had vanished, leaving me alone with my carnal desire…” You read to him, feeling him shift in his seat just outside of your vision. “The prince has been kind to me before, but as the hours went by and our wine glasses emptied, there was something else in his eyes, something I felt wanted to devour me and make me his. Taking him into my bed was inevitable and we both knew it.”

It was scandalous and wrong, to speak such lewd thoughts out loud with your betrothed right before your very eyes, but something made you continue, your voice growing stronger as you carried on.

“I was not aware of my own body like this until he made me, taking my hand in his own and showing me what I was capable of…” You swallowed thickly, the words hitting way too close to home. “Like he was painting flowers on my skin, my body bloomed under his touch and awakened me as if I had only slept my life away before…”

You thought of the rain splattering against the window, how Jacaerys had undressed you and how right it had felt to let yourself be kissed by him, your bodies melting together underneath the blanket until you had forgotten where you began and he ended. There had been safety back then and you knew there was safety in this moment as well, your Jace a steady and relying presence by your side.

“He surprised me, in more than one way, but what surprised me the most was when he went on his knees for me…” You lifted your head at the sound of fabric rustling and breathed out shakingly as you watched Jace stand up from his chair and kneel down in front of yours, looking up at you with his lips slightly open.

“What are you doing?” You whispered breathlessly.

“You’ve read this chapter before?” He asked back, gulping.

You nodded slowly, not able to look away from his pretty eyes. “Twice. It is written quite…poetically.”

Jace chuckled, easing your nerves as he softly stroked your naked ankle. Scandalous, indeed. “So you know how the story goes, my love?”

Gods, he was going to be the death of you.

“Yes…” You whispered, not trusting your voice anymore.

“If you’d allow me, I’d like to give you the same pleasure.” Jace proposed slowly, his voice a little hoarse. “I-…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since we shared a bed. I try to be…a good betrothed, but every night I close my eyes, I still hear your sweet voice, I feel your body against mine and it’s driving me mad with want.”

You were shaking as you leaned forward and cupped his cheek with one hand, successfully making him halt in his confessional ramble. Softly, you stroked along his smooth cheek with your thumb as he melted into the loving gesture. “Jacaerys…Why do you think I wanted to find the diary like you did? If you declare yourself mad, then we are both out of our minds. I have been thinking about you too as I was reading. You are all I can think about and I desire to be with you again.”

He looked at you like you were the sun, the whole world to him. “So you’d let me…?”

You nodded fiercely, your finger drifting over his cheekbone and his bottom lip. You exhaled softly as he pressed a quick kiss to the pad of your fingertip. “I trust you. I know you’ll take good care of me.”

“I will, always.” Jace vowed and took your hand in his once again, this time lifting your bare wrist to his mouth and softly kissing it, making you sigh longingly. Then, he gently led it back to the book in your lap and smiled at you. “Read to me, princess.”

You cleared your throat, trying to push all nerves away from you as you continued with the story.

“I was overly aware of his presence between my thighs, soothing yet commanding as he slowly unwrapped me, a prize he had dutifully won with his chivalrous affections…” You read and tried not to squirm as Jace slowly began to lift your light skirts, exposing your naked legs to the warm air of your chamber. You felt his hot breath fan over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in his wake. When his knuckles brushed along your calf, you bit your lip, suppressing a small groan.

“What happens next?” Jace wanted to know, his voice warm and deep and lulling you into a certain headspace. Briefly, your eyes met as he exposed your knees and with a sigh, your legs opened, making space for whatever he planned for you. And oh, how you knew what he planned and how much it affected you already, knowing exactly what was going to happen…

“He took his time and ignored my pleas, relishing every little buck of my hips as he neared the sacred place where I desired him the m-most-“ You faltered as you felt his lips on your knee, one single featherlight kiss before he moved on to the other leg, repeating his actions.

His hands brushed appreciatively over your skirts and higher and higher they went until you heard him exhale in awe. “You’re as beautiful as I remember…May I?”

“Yes.” You lifted your hips, assisting him in his efforts to get your skirt out of the way, but just as you lost yourself in the sight of him on your knees for you, he admonished you with a single look and nodded to the diary between you. You laughed quietly, your head spinning from the sensation of his hand stroking up and down your leg. “I believe I might’ve gotten betrothed to a devil instead of a prince.”

“A devil wouldn’t do what I want to do to you, princess.” He murmured, his warm palms now resting on your thighs, oh so gently drawing little patterns into your skin.

You soldiered on bravely, although it was getting harder to think when he spoke to you like this. “I was no stranger to the secret pleasures happening behind closed doors, but with him, I felt like I have never truly known them. He looked at me like I was his personal meal at a feast and he was a man that has been starving, desperate for- oh!”

You stumbled over your words, a hiss escaping your lips as his knuckles suddenly brushed along the damp fabric of your underwear. The sensation of his touch on the wet spot over your folds sent a sharp shiver down your spine and the glassy look in Jace’s eyes, fixated on your clothed center in front of him, did not help to ease the tension in you.

“For?” Jacaerys repeated dazed, licking his lips before he softly mouthed at your naked thighs, the muscles quivering underneath his sweet assault.

“For her.” You exhaled, but he only cocked his eyebrow at you.

“Come on, princess, you know the word she uses.” He tempted you teasingly, lazily reaching out and tracing a circle over your soaked-

“Her cunt-“ You breathed out, sweat gathering on your brow as your mind rushed down your body, making it harder and harder to concentrate on the diary in your hand. Your eyes fluttered closed as he peppered kisses along your inner thighs and his curls tickled your smooth skin.

Distantly, you felt his fingers unlace the little ribbons on the side of your underwear, gently exposing your heavenly center to him for the very first time. You heard him groan under his breath, his imagination during your first encounter underneath the blanket exceeded by the sweet reality of your weeping cunt for him.

“Princess…” He hummed absently, shuffling closer to you, his eyes flickering back and forth between your wet rosy folds and your half-lidded eyes. “I want to know how the story continues, don’t you?”

A tiny whimper left your lips as you tried to make sense of the words in front of you with Jacaerys so close to where you needed him so desperately now. “My cunt was a flower blooming under his attention and with each touch of his, another leaf seemed to blossom, making me f-forget myself and…gods, Jace, please-“

Finally giving in to your pleas, Jace pressed a kiss to your aching clit and set you aflame with it.

A surprised gasp left your lips as your hips twitched on their own and you dug your fingers into the armrest by your side. Your taste only barely grazed his lips, yet Jace groaned and rested his forehead against your thigh for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose himself while he stroked the soft flesh under your belly.

Jace slowly lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders – the way he had often dreamed about – and nudged you to continue, his burning gaze not separating from your pink pussy.

 “His tongue licked fire into me, unforgiving and merciless at my open whimpers and when I thought the pleasure I felt could not ascend more, he proved me wrong-“ You bit down hard on your lip as he dove in again, kissing your folds and clit like he had kissed your blue lips at the inn, experimental and delicately and forbiddenly good. “-and pushed me further, beyond the veil and further.”

“Gods, you taste divine…” Jace murmured against you, his tongue darting out to lick one fat stripe up your cunt, making you release a long drawn-out moan you could not keep in anymore if you tried. “Let me hear you, princess, I want to hear every little sound from your sweet lips.”

“T-the pressure in me kept tightening itself as he played me like a delicate violin, his spit mingling- gods, fuck-“ You squeezed your legs shut as Jace licked and sucked at you, the noises where his mouth worked outright dirty and driving you insane. “-mingling with my own juices, his eyes never leaving mine as he lapped at me…”

You had no idea if you were even speaking a coherent language anymore. You were floating, levitating above yourself and the boy between your thighs, devouring you as if you were the best thing Jace had ever been granted to taste.

Jacaerys once again did not let it show that he was just as new to any of this as you were, expertly eating you out like he had never done anything else. He kissed your cunt with eager passion, varying between slow licks of his tongue and fiery kisses and sucking against your clit until you could not keep up with him anymore, your body melting into the armchair behind you.

As you stumbled once again over a sentence, you mewled and instinctively held on to the first thing in reach. It was the best unconscious decision your body could’ve ever made for you.

Jacaerys let out a guttural groan, the vibrations of his sound sending a jolt through you as he moaned right into your cunt, your fingers tightening their newly found hold on his soft curls. His fingers dug into your plush thighs and you lost yourself just a little more when he looked up to you.

His swollen lips were glistening with your wetness and Jace looked drunk on you, his eyes hazily glazed over as he held your stare, leaning into your hand holding on to his hair.

Your head fell back, your mouth opening to a silent blissed-out o-shape at the intensity of his mouth on you and before you knew it, you found yourself begging for your betrothed, his long fingers carefully spreading your folds apart for him.

“Jacaerys… please-“ You whimpered, brows scrunched together and breath hitching as he soothed his fingers over your sensitive flesh once more. The book became useless in your hands as the words blurred together in front of your vision. “I can’t go on anymore, please.”

He barely separated himself from you as he sighed into your cunt, deeply breathing you in and intending to never unlearn this feeling. “I know you can do it, princess. Come on, I want to know how the story ends, don’t you?”

You couldn't care less about how the godsdamned story would end anymore, but you saw the way Jace was looking at you, the dragon of your house lingering just beneath the surface. He was serious and you would not leave this seat before he had you right where he wanted; on the same high edge he had led you to in that tiny little bed…

And oh, how fast you were racing towards it.

“There was no escape from the heaven he brought on me and as- oh…as I felt my end nearing, I knew I was ruined for an…any m-man after him who’d dare to compete- ah, Jace, a-against him-“ You whimpered, your thighs shaking on top of his shoulders as he went on and on on you, his perfect mouth nearly making you go cross-eyed for a moment.

Suddenly, your vision whitened out, the diary slipping from your limb grasp and falling to the ground as Jace’s tongue breached your walls. Your back arched and you let out an incoherent string of curses, humming and gasping pathetically as his nose rubbed against your clit and Jace’s long lashes fluttered closed. You could not help but stare at him in wonder, your beautiful betrothed worshiping at the altar of your hips, dragging his skilled tongue through the mess he had made of you.

He was exquisite.

And finally, you seemed to have fulfilled your reading duty and he was satisfied with the outcome.

Jace groaned deeply and placed his hands on either side of your waist, drawing you closer to the edge of the chair and towards his mouth, his hot breath fanning over you and sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you close, princess?” He mumbled lowly, not bothering to separate himself from you, his lips sending little jolts through your nerves.

“S-so close…” You nodded quickly, head thrown back and fingers still carding through his hair, his hands and mouth on you the only things that still kept you on this world. “’s so good, Jacaerys, I’m going to…”

His hands found yours and as he laced your fingers together, he kissed your swollen wet clit again, gently suckling on it and moving his head just a little bit, his teeth lasciviously grazing over you-

You let go of yourself, combusting into a million little stars through his guiding touches. Your peak was washing over you in powerful waves, your hips still grinding against Jace’s eager mouth, chasing the taste of your release on his tongue as if it was the saving water in a hopeless desert.

“Perfect…” Jace murmured as he looked up to you in awe, his cheek admiringly resting on your thigh and you let out a breathless chuckle, chest heaving and heart thundering as he licked his lips clean of your release. “You are divine, my love.”

You were puddy in his safe hands, sighing happily as he kissed your leg and swiftly scooped you up into his awaiting arms. You gladly clung to him and as he carried you towards your enticing bed, your disheveled skirts were dragged behind you over the floor as your legs wrapped around his waist, one of his hands soothingly brushing over your hair as the other supported your bum.

He could’ve walked to the edge of the earth with you like this, you were content, nuzzling his neck like an affectionate kitten and breathing him in. What a grand blessing your sweet betrothed was…

While you still tried to calm yourself down from your peak, Jacaerys gently placed you on your soft beddings and sat down beside you. He kissed your chin, your temple and then both of your fluttering eyelids, his hands securely stroking your sides as he leaned over you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, seeking your gaze.

You smiled at him, reaching up to tuck one of his curls behind his ear. “Magnificent.”

Jacaerys blushed and kissed your cheek to hide it. “It wasn’t too much?”

“No.” You slid your hand to his nape, an idea blossoming in your mind. “It was new and…intense, but I loved it. You were good to me, Jace. Although…there is one thing I am still longing for, my prince.”

He furrowed his brows. “And what would that be, beloved?”

You drew him closer until he hovered over you, his own breath quickening as yours fanned over his lips. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone and you leaned in to whisper: “I’ve not kissed you since that night.”

His pupils dilated. “We should change that.”

You grinned into the kiss as you both closed the distance and a deep part of you relaxed, as if you had been holding your breath ever since you took off to Dragonstone that morning. Jacaerys carefully held your face in the palms of his hands, but you felt that he was desperately needing this just as much as you did.

You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, although you were well and thoroughly sated for the night, only hungering for Jace’s pleasure now. You pulled him on top of you and sank into the pillows behind you, relishing the feeling of his lips moving against yours once more.

It was like the two of you were learning together, becoming better and better at knowing how to do this. He liked it when you playfully bit his bottom lip and you felt yourself growing hot when he licked into your mouth and time did not matter anymore as you made out with each other.

While his own hands were ghosting over your sides, his lashes brushing against your cheeks and tickling you, you steadied yourself on your elbows and pressed your chest against his. In a moment of tender weakness, you smoothed your hands over his chest and flipped the two of you around.

Jace let out a surprised grunt as he landed on your pillows, wondrously looking up at you and drinking in the sight that was you, now snuggly seated in his lap. His hands went to your waist, caressing your hip bones through the fabric of your skirt.

“Maybe I should make you read to me as well, my prince.” You considered sweetly, delighted in the way he breathed a little harder. “See how long you can concentrate while I play with you, hm?”

“Princess…”

You grinned, kissing the rest of his sentence away and sensually tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. After all, he was not the only one educated in the practices of pleasure now. Time to show what your nameless ancestor had taught you through her diary.

He opened his mouth, surely to protest and insist he was fine once more, but you simply gave him a look and he closed it again. The evidence for his arousal was hot and hard under you and when you experimentally ground your hips down, a small whimper left his lips.

“I will not have you end the night unsatisfied again, Jace.” You told him sternly, making yourself comfortable and at home in his lap as you nestled with his belt.

He shook his head, although you could see the desire still burning in his dark eyes, sparked by your sudden initiative to take some little control back. “Seeing you come undone was more than enough for me already, princess.”

You shushed him, your fingertip on his lips. “Let me make you feel good too, Jace. Please.”

Jace brushed your hair back and for a moment, you could see him arguing with himself before he finally gave in to you. “Yes. You…I would like that, if you want.”

A victorious smile made its way on your face. “I do.”

You clumsily fumbled with his belt as you slowly began to kiss his neck, exploring the sensitive skin you had not felt against your lips before but could not get enough of now. Jacaerys obediently made space for you and leaned back, his mouth opening silently and eyes closing as he concentrated on only you and your hands and lips on him.

Quickly, you found out a spot that made him hiss, a sensitive patch just beneath his earlobe, when you unbuckled his pants and slid your hands down his front, over his muscled stomach, down and further down until-

Jace moaned, his fingers digging into your hip bones as you palmed the front of his underwear, feeling him almost throbbing with need against your wandering hand. You leaned back in curiosity to take a look at your beautiful boy, biting his lip and blinking at you with worship written all over his face.

“Help me a little here.” You whispered and held out your hand to him. Jace let out a shuddering breath, realizing your intention. Chapter eight. You clearly both had read it.

You trembled as he let a little bit of his spit drool down into the palm of your hand, holding your eye contact and when your own spit joined and you freed his cock to wrap your hand around his length, he hissed as if he had burned himself.

You could not decide where you wanted to look. He was beautiful, longer than you had imagined and a little curved and you couldn’t stop yourself from thumbing the slit, the precome of his tip easing the way as you slowly began to stroke him.

“Fuck…” Jace bit his lip, suppressing a little whimper, but you were quick, your thumb touching his bottom lip and encouraging him not to stifle his sounds. You had no idea what you’re doing, the reality was different from when it was all just words on a page, but you seemed to do something right given Jacaerys’ reaction to your slow and tender strokes.

“Does it feel good?” You wanted to know breathily, your lips brushing against each other as Jace bucked into your hand, unable to control himself as your hand slowly took him apart.

Jace nodded, chasing your mouth as he cupped the back of your neck and drew you close, devouring you in a hot and passionate kiss that made your hand stutter with distraction. Your other hand was squeezing his shoulder and you moved together, a dance danced best in your bed, with the one you loved and who loved you back.

“Princess…” He whispered, his whole sight angelic and holy to you as you watched him mesmerized, the slick sound of your hand around him drowned out by the string of moans leaving his plump lips as you twisted your wrist. “Gods, ‘so good to me…I’m- I’m not going to last as long as the men in those stories…”

You chuckled, lightheaded with the endless love you felt, only doubling your efforts to make your betrothed feel good at your hands. You leaned your forehead against his and breathed: “I do not care. It’s you I want. And I want to watch you come undone, Jorrāeliarzys, as you watched me.”

He whimpered, eyes fluttering closed as you slowed your hand. It seemed like Jacaerys preferred it this way, a touch so drawn out it almost felt like nothing, but was everything. You peppered kisses along his neck and exposed collarbone, coaxing him towards the same cliff you had tumbled off earlier, feeling his shivers and the strain in him as you took care of his need.

“Come on, Jace…” You lured, pressing one last kiss to his open lips before you added near his ear in a whisper: “Come for your wife, my love.”

Jacaerys’ head fell back as he released a languorous long moan, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed, your hand guiding him through the high as you watched him awestruck by his beauty. You stayed close and leaned against him, playing with his hair as he recovered, a panting mess you had made of him and you felt yourself cuddling close to.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he did not speak, only drawing you tight against him and combing his fingers through your hair.

“Yes…I’m perfect.” He murmured and nuzzled his nose against your neck. “Just need a moment. You are a gift from the gods, my love.”

You blushed, busying yourself with gently tucking his length back into his pants and sighing happily. “This silly little diary, huh?”

You laughed together, the vision of two young lovers, happy and sated. The adrenaline and giddiness of both your actions was coursing through your veins at full force, now that the haze of pleasure had lifted from your mind.

After a while, he grimaced at the mess on your hand and you laughed quietly as he grabbed his cloak from your nightstand and quickly wiped it off for you.

“It’s not that bad.” You insisted giggly, but he was having none of it.

“I won’t have you having to sully yourself with my mess.”

“Jace, earlier your chin was covered with my-“

“Shh…” He shushed you gently and pulled you close, sinking into the pillows with you tucked against him, your head fitting just perfectly underneath his chin. You had missed the way your body fitted perfectly against his own, not protesting anymore as he hugged you close to his chest.

„I can hardly wait to get married to you…” You mumbled sleepily against his neck, your hand finding its way into his lush curls.

He smiled against your temple, his arms drawing you closer against his chest as he rested his chin on your head. “I will relish every day I’ll have with you by my side as my wife then. As I relish every moment with you now, my love.”

You hummed happily, an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest at his promise. Drawing a tiny heart on his chest, you looked up into his eyes with a plea. “Can you stay? Just a little longer until I’ve fallen asleep?”

Both of you knew he could not stay here for the night. It had been a challenge already to slip into your quarters without raising suspicious questions. But if the prince would spend the night in his betrothed’s chambers? You’d raise a scandal neither of you wanted to face or deal with.

“Of course.” He cooed and you relaxed, melting in his embrace as he carded his fingers through your hair. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” You murmured sleepily, timidly kissing his jaw one last time as exhaustion claimed your body and bones. It was the sweetest déjà vu, your embrace similar to the one you had shared in the inn. But only this time, your hearts beating peacefully in sync with each other.

“Sleep well, princess.” Jacaerys whispered tenderly and watched as you drifted off into sleep.

He did not leave you for another few hours, but when he eventually had to, he swore himself he was going to make you fully his as soon as possible…

Perhaps a conversation with his mother was more than overdue.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃

my taglist: @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[ovaryacted]

SECONDHAND SMOKE

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant f! reader || WC: 2.2k

SYNOPSIS: Waiting for Logan back at the X-Mansion, he welcomes you into his arms and enjoys his cigar with you on his lap.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUTTY. Thigh Riding. Dirty Talk. Kissing. Scent Kink. Light Oral (f receiving). Established Relationship. Older! X-Men Logan implied. Age Gap Implied [Logan looks to be in his 40s, Reader is in their 20s]. Reader is a telepath & telekinetic mutant with a human appearance. Telepathic communication. Logan is a tease and a lover boy, he uses multiple terms of endearment. They match each other's freak.

A/N: I've been meaning to upload another Logan fic especially since watching the D&W movie on Friday, and I wanted to share this with y'all. This story is also technically part of a larger idea, but that will be talked about later. I have other things planned for Logan as well for X-Men Logan, old man Logan, and variant Logan. That man is not going to be safe on my watch. Thank you to @ozarkthedog for the proofread and the motivation to keep writing for this man, and shout out to @zloshy for taking part in the aesthetics and the encouragement with the yap sessions. I adore you both. Anywho, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You’ve been waiting for him all day while he was out with the rest of the leading group of X-Men, something regarding a history lesson that needed to be handled. You stayed at the mansion on Xavier’s orders, tending to the younger class of gifted mutants until the veterans arrived by nightfall. To keep yourself occupied, you perused the many books Logan kept on his shelf towards the far end of his bedroom, picking up a well-loved novel from Hemingway to delve into. 

Carefully turning the pages, the wording and storytelling entranced you, each paragraph manifesting into visions that played in your head like a live-action film. Half of your senses remained in the book while the other listened for the familiar creaks of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hallway.

You sensed him before you saw him. Halfway into the book, you lift your head at the sound of the door opening, spotting Logan standing by the threshold of the room’s entryway. Closing the door behind him, he steps towards where you sat on his bed, holding your chin upwards to face him. Bending forward, he placed a soft kiss on your lips, followed by a content sigh that made a smile creep up on your face.

“Hey,” you said, meeting Logan’s softened gaze as he moved away from you to the other side of the room, plopping down on the leather armchair in a heap. He exhaled heavily through his nose, throwing his head back along the edge of the chair. “Long day?”

“The fucking longest,” Logan grumbled, his brow bone creasing before he relaxed.

“I thought you liked hanging out with Scott?” you questioned, the end of your voice trailing off into a playful tease as you sat up on the mattress.

“Sweetheart, that man has a pretentious stick up his ass. You couldn’t pay me to spend time with him.” You laughed at his mild irritation, knowing Logan’s faux vexation towards his friend was a facade to cover his true feelings of fondness.

Reaching for a box of cigars to his right, Logan clipped the cap off a fresh one and popped it between his lips, holding it by his teeth. He glanced at you, the corner of his lips curling up in a mischievous grin.

“Come here, you gotta light this for me.”

With a smile, you obliged, quickly rising on your feet and striding to where he sat in the chair, swinging your legs around to situate yourself over his denim-clad lap. Straightening your back, your eyes briefly flashed black as you materialized the metal lighter from its place on the bookshelf before Logan, flicking the spark wheel until the red flame brightened his chin. The foot end of the cigar sizzled as it burnt to ash, the familiar scent of finely aged tobacco filled your nose as he drew in his first breath.

“Sneaky.” He mumbled around the cigar, taking a harsh pull of air before curling his fingers to hold it, huffing the smoke out on the next exhale.

“I call it being efficient.” You grinned to yourself, accepting the reciprocated hum rumbling through Logan’s broad chest. Your fingers skimmed his collarbones that peeked through the white tank under his flannel, admiring the bob of his throat and the steady rise of his body whenever he breathed.

“What were you up to in here? Snooping through my shit?” His sight darted to the burgundy button-down you wore, ending right at the top of your bare thighs. He brought his free hand to caress your leg, running circles over your skin and feeling you shiver slightly under him. “I was looking for this shirt last week, you know?”

“First off, this was gifted to me,” you stated with a roll of your eyes, smacking Logan across the chest and forcing a dry chuckle out of him. “And secondly, I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Hmm, so you’re saying you missed me?”

“Surprisingly, I did.” You sneaked your other hand towards Logan’s neck, curling your fingers around the thick hair at his nape. He almost purred at the touch, smoking his cigar and looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“Besides, it’s nice and quiet here. You also gave me permission to be here for your information.” 

Since dating Logan, it has been a slow start to accomplishing milestones for either of you, taking things one step at a time to avoid scaring the other off. Now that things have been good between you, he gave you free reign to be in his bedroom at the mansion, usually spending the day here for some solace or sleeping in his bed instead of yours on the other side of the estate. On a mental note, he intended to make your presence in his life more permanent.

“Damn, I forgot I gave you permission to take my stuff,” Logan quipped, somehow becoming more cocky than he usually was. You loved him for it either way.

Asshole. Although you didn’t verbally say the word, he heard your voice in his mind, taking the telepathic route. His smirk widened as he took another drag of his cigar, the smoke heavy in the air as it circled the two of you.

“All yours, darlin’.” He offered you a wink, squeezing your thigh with his other hand to keep you in place, seated on his thick thighs.

You spent a few minutes talking to him, giving him a rundown of your relatively calm day and mentioning the book you read earlier. It was oddly domestic, something that most mutants would not be able to partake in, and Logan silently thanked whoever granted him the opportunity to experience it.

A comfortable silence occupied the room once Logan was halfway down his cigar. Enjoying his company, you nuzzled into his neck, taking in his natural scent. A mix of pinewood and leather filled your senses, musky and so clearly him, your belly twitched at the warmth of his body against yours. Absentmindedly, you began to litter kisses over his skin, placing a few more along the base of his throat and moving upwards to the corner of his jaw. He could smell the shift in your behavior; arousal mixing in with the lingering haze heightened his senses, and his attention was directed back to you.

“Need something?” His voice dropped an octave as he asked you, running lines up and down your leg, the sensation making you squirm.

“Need you, smartass.” Holding his face, you kissed him on the cheek and once more on the tip of his nose, reaching his lips along the way. His eyes closed at the touch, wanting nothing more than to feel the caress of your tongue and sink his teeth into your bottom lip. 

“I want you too, but I’m on my smoke break.” You were ready to pout at him before Logan adjusted your positioning, shifting you more off to the side so your pelvis sat on one of his thighs. The thickness of the denim covering the hard muscle of his leg rubbed against your underwear, a moan settling in the back of your throat at the contact.

“Get yourself off while I finish this. Promise, it’ll be worth it, hun.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, knowing what he was asking for, yet your cheeks warmed under his stare. He merely shrugged, raising an eyebrow and patiently waiting for your next move.

Doubtfully, you pivoted your hips forward, dragging yourself across the vast expanse of his thigh before drawing backward. The first few passes felt strange, but you quickly found your rhythm, rocking your hips in even thrusts. The material of his jeans rubbed just right against your panties; the thin fabric that separated your body from his added more friction to your sensitive clit. Your lower spine grew warm with Logan’s free hand idly holding your waist, calmly guiding your movements over him until he was confident you got it handled.

Logan leans back into the chair and plants his feet on the floor, giving you more leverage to work with. His keen eyes take in the way you flutter yours shut, eyebrows furrowing in concentration at getting the perfect angle and drive. He can hear your heart beating in your ribcage and can feel the pumping of your blood flowing through your veins to rush between your legs.

Muffled moans pour out of you, gripping the fabric of Logan’s shirt and tilting forward a bit more, digging your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. The secondhand smoke from his cigar amplified the incessant throbbing down South, a second pulse that pounded through your body with a need clawing at your gut. The motion of your hips grew more persistent as your slick seeped into your panties, known to Logan when his nostrils flared to catch your scent in the air.

“Feeling good, princess?” You heard his voice filtering through the light mess of your thoughts, focusing on making yourself feel good under his orders. You hummed against his neck, nodding and keeping your even pacing as you leaned into his muscular body.

“Yeah, I know it’s good. Bet your pussy is just crying for me now, probably tastes just as sweet too.” Logan’s vulgar mouth only motivated you to grind your hips harder against his leg, reminiscent of a bitch in heat the more you moved over him.

There was something erotic about getting yourself off while Logan observed and enjoyed his smoke. To him, you were quality entertainment, a sight for sore eyes after a hectic day full of learning things he was trying to retain. Your mind grew clouded, full of the many ways Logan handled you, things like this that kept you on your toes the way he knew how. Flashbacks of this morning flickered before your eyes, reminiscing the feel of his tongue slipping inside you and his bicep tucked under your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Logan could picture it too, traces of your daydreams passing by in his head, instances where he made you feel so good you had nothing left to give. He wonders how wet you are, could taste your cunt on the back of his tongue, missing it since he left you with a weary grin on your face as you slept in his bed. He hopes you stained the worn denim that separated the two of you and prays that you leave your mark on him, no matter how temporary.

“Getting close?” he asked. He didn’t hear you respond, but your voice remained floating in the confines of his skull.

Yes. Fuck yes. So close. Fuck me. Fuck me. Please.

“I will sugar, promise I will.” His hand ran up the curve of your spine and gently curled around your neck, pulling you backward to hold his gaze. Your glossed-over pupils dilated at the sight of him, irises darkening and filling with ink. The embodiment of your powers made him curious at first, with blackened eyes at the indication of specific actions, but he quickly got used to seeing the signs every time he made you fall over the edge.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Make a mess on my jeans, and I swear I’ll treat your pussy the way she deserves, the way she needs. Let me feel it.”

Logan. Logan. Logan.

“Fuuuck…” You whined under your breath, doing three more harsh passes over his thigh before your body abruptly tensed, legs shaking and pressing into his hard body as the wave slammed over you. Mind clear and body lax, you hummed against Logan’s throat, pulse thumping against your lips as you placed a light kiss.

He took one last pull of his cigar before smudging it into the ashtray on the end table to his left, ideally saving whatever was left of it for after he fucks you. Wrapping his thick arms around you, he brings you closer to him, pulling your hips over his to hover over the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Need something?” you taunted, parroting his earlier words with equal tone and sarcasm.

“Yeah. Need to clean up the mess you made.”

Crashing into your lips, he kissed you deeply for the first time that night, curling his tongue around yours in affectionate swirls and releasing an audible groan. Holding you close, he stood up on his feet and picked you up with ease, strolling towards the bed in three strides. Lighthearted giggles tumbled out of you, making Logan’s heart beat in tandem with yours. The sides of his face creased as he mimicked your smile, tugging hastily at your sodden underwear and tossing them to the side. Rough fingers curled around the soft flesh of your thigh, parting your legs to admire his handiwork as he heard your voice in his head again.

Greedy.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” As if to prove your point, he licked a broad stripe up the length of your cunt, your wetness coating his tongue as he placed a complimentary kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves, re-igniting the fire he started.

 “Now be good and let your old man have a taste.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[bleach-your-panties]

JJK Men: When You're Sleepy, But They're Horny🍒🎀

(a/n: i usually suck ass at headcanons but let's give this a whirl. characters aged 18+. nsfw mdni, sexual content. fem reader)

(characters: yuuji, megumi, nanami, toge, gojo)

dividers: glitter-graphics, @/cafekitsune

♥︎

Yuuji:

It's 9pm and you had just returned from a solo mission, finished your shower, hair routine, and climbed into bed. You hear the soft click of your room door opening and you know that it has to be none other than your boyfriend, Yuuji.

"Babe, are you still awake?" His soft voice whispers right beside your ear before he presses a kiss to the side of your head. You groan out something unintelligible and Yuuji's heart sinks a bit.

He's really hard and he was hoping that you might feel like 'playing' a little, but he also knows that you're probably really tired.

"I can feel you pouting, Yuu. Put it in my hand."

You stretch your palm out from under your covers and Yuuji is quickly shoving his pants down to free his hard dick.

"T-thank you, so much, cutie. Fuck, I love you!" He whimpers/whispers as you stroke him with your nice, warm fingers running all along his shaft.

He's so pent-up that it only takes a few rough tugs before he's spilling his seed into your hand.

"Promise to fuck you good when you wake up, baby. You're so good to me."

You were already snoring before he cleaned your hand off and left your room silently.

♥︎

Megumi:

You're curled up in bed with Megumi spooning while the two of you watch anime. You've finished nearly half the season in the last couple hours that you've been watching and now your eyes are drooping.

Megumi is still watching the TV but his eyes flit down to where your ass is pressed against his crotch. The sleep shorts you're wearing give him a perfect view of your thighs.

Being a semi-grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer, you have keen awareness and heightened senses, so you automatically feel Megumi's stone cold blue eyes boring into your back.

"What is it, Megara?" You yawn out, turning slightly to look at him over your shoulder. He rolls said eyes.

"Told you to stop calling me that."

He answers your question by rutting his hips forward and rubbing his hard-on against your ass.

"I'm tired, Megs. Here." You turn over halfway on to your stomach, fully presenting your ass to him and his eyes widen at the gap made by your thighs.

He sinks his dick into the makeshift hole and fucks it slowly, edging himself, until he feels his balls tighten and he's cumming into the opening.

A warm blush covers his cheeks but he dutifully grabs some wipes and cleans you off before kissing your head and pulling you into his chest.

♥︎

Nanami:

Kento is working another late shift and you just can't stay up waiting for him any longer.

You're quickly falling asleep in the armchair when the front door knob twists and he steps inside.

"Angel, are you asleep in the chair?"

"Mmm...Kento is that you?" You drawl with your head resting against the cushion. He chuckles at your cuteness.

"Yes, it's me, darling. Come on, let's get you to bed.

"Okay."

Once he's laid you on the bed, he can't help but begin to caress your smooth legs up to your thighs hidden beneath your nightgown.

His dick begins to strain against his dress pants but he looks up at your blissful face and dares not to ask you if you want to make love.

"Kento...what's wrong? Come on to bed, already."

"Do you mind if I eat you out, darling?"

Your heart swells ten times its size just knowing how much he cares for you.

"Mhmm, please..."

And he dives right in, sucking and licking you to Nirvana. It feels so good, your legs start shaking and you're cumming over his handsome face in record time.

Your orgasm completely knocks you out cold and he chuckles at your peaceful form before undressing to his boxers and climbing under the covers with you.

♥︎

Toge:

You're cuddled up in Toge's bed with him looking at memes and funny videos on his phone.

With a free day from classes, the two of you had been out all day exploring Tokyo and now you're absolutely exhausted.

You snuggle into his warm chest and inhale the scent of his laundry detergent. Toge kisses the top of your head, his lavender eyes then trailing down over your beautiful face....your lithe neck with the necklace he bought you for your birthday around it, and further down to your tits.

He softly inhales and wraps an arm around your back to press you further against him so he can feel your breasts squished against his hard chest.

You shuffle a bit in his hold and your sleepy eyes look up into his amethyst ones.

"Toge...?"

His dick is hard and swollen against his thigh, but you look so cute like this - he can't help but lean his head down to kiss each of your breasts.

"Sleep."

Your body can't do anything but obey.

That was probably the best sleep you'd gotten in a while.

♥︎

Gojo:

Satoru was away for the day on a field trip with his students and you decided to clean the entire house while he was away. You never had the time to do it when he was around because you'd either be holed up in the bedroom all day or pressed up against some random piece of furniture with him thrusting into you wildly.

When you finished the upstairs, you decided to go lie down and have a quick nap before he got back.

Hours later, you're still knocked out; the cleaning had really drained you more than you realized.

"Honeybun, I'm home and I brought you a souvenir!~"

Your joyful husband slams open the bedroom door with some shopping bags in tow.

The bags drop to the floor and he immediately hushes himself once he sees that you're asleep.

"Aww, look at my precious sleeping baby.." He slips off his blindfold, revealing his beautiful, crystalline blue eyes while he shreds himself of his work clothes and joins you in the bed.

The movements make you shift around a bit and then you feel warm breath over your neck and cheeks.

"Hm, Satoru.." Your hand tangles into his soft white locks while his lips press against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, leaving wet, hungry kisses on your sweet-scented skin.

"Missed you so much, sweetie...need to have you right now."

There was rarely a time when this man wasn't horny for you, but if you refused and wanted to just sleep, he wouldn't object. He knows that even though you're not a sorcerer you still have a life and things that keep you occupied when he's away.

You shift until you're lying completely on your back and Satoru is spreading your thighs with his knees. He pulls out his cock and begins stroking it until it's hard and leaking pre-cum.

"I love you.." He murmurs into your hair once he's sunken all eight inches inside your tight cunt.

Your eyes close instinctively, but he pats your cheek before gripping your chin in his rough grip.

"Look at me. I want to watch your pretty eyes while I fuck you back to sleep."

----

i actually fell asleep while writing this loool. going back to sleep now, peace.

[unluckywisher]

Sylus filth. Enjoy <3

You can't help but squirm in his grasp, fingers sliding in and out of your wet cunt with deadly precision. He loves feeling your walls clenching around him, his blood Evol letting him feel exactly how aroused you are, how fast your heart is beating.

"If you want me to keep going, you have to stop moving, darling." He purrs, his other hand resting on your neck, not squeezing.

You're sitting on his lap, your back to his chest, your legs spread on top of his, fucking you with his fingers.

He smiles against your ear, kissing your neck as he keeps whispering things to you, pace unrelenting. You lean your head back on his shoulder, grabbing at his arm like you're holding on for dear life.

"Sylus- Please..." You exhale. As steady as it is, you need him to go faster. Harder.

"What, my pet?" He bites your earlobe. "I won't know what you want if you don't tell me."

You attempt to close your legs together for more contact, but he quickly moves the hand on your throat to the back of your left leg, lifting it over the armchair.

"Ah, ah. Tell me." He bites down on your neck, causing you to whimper.

"Mmh! Ple-ase... Faster-" You bite your bottom lip, nails digging into his arm.

"That's better." As he hears you, you can feel his cock hardening under you, and as much as you want your release, you want to help him too.

A bit late, because his fingers curl up and start moving faster, his palm rubbing against your clit, your whole body tensing as you feel the orgasm building up.

"Ah-! Fffuck, Sylus, wait-" You reach up above your shoulder to grab his hair.

He ignores your pleas, smiling. "That's it, sweetheart, cum for me." His voice drops, tilting his head to see your expression better.

Like clockwork, you reach your climax with shaky gasps, your legs trembling as he lets you ride it out with gentle strokes. He chuckles, kissing your neck again.

"Such a pretty little thing... All for me..." He murmurs.

With deep breaths, you manage to recover. But you aren't done. You move his hands away from you, letting him know that you want to move, so he lets you.

You stand up and turn around, sitting back on his lap but facing him this time. Your hands travel down to his belt.

"Oh, my, is it my turn?" He smirks. You nod shyly.

His hands move to either side of your hips, eyes sweeping over your body, then locking onto your lips. He tilts his head, and that's all you need to lean forward and kiss him.

He always kisses so fervently, you wonder how much he held back when you two first met. His tongue swirls against yours, a low moan vibrating through his throat and making you shiver.

While you kiss, you take off his belt, then unbutton his pants, letting his hard cock free. Why is this man so goddamn veiny? There's time to think about that later, you need him inside as soon as possible.

You pull back from the kiss and grab his shaft to guide him in, his eyes darkening. When he makes contact with your wet entrance, he can't help but sigh in pleasure. You slowly sink onto him with your mouth agape, his fingers digging into your hips. You feel so good around him.

"Mmm... Like that..." He rests his head back against the chair, shifting his hips slightly.

You put your hands on his shoulders as you fully take him in, taking a moment to adjust to his size. He waits with surprising patience, despite the fact that he was already leaking precum before you slid him in.

Slowly, you raise your hips until his tip is the only thing inside of you, then lower them fully.

"Are you going to play with me or are you going to give me what I want, hm?" He licks his lips, not letting you get the better of him.

"The latter." You grip the backrest of the chair, and start moving up and down faster, rougher.

His breath catches, hands now pushing you down onto his twitching cock. He swallows, eyes on your cunt as you take him whole. One of his hands travels to your abdomen, then starts circling your clit.

You moan, the hand on his shoulder now on his chest, gripping his shirt. You lean down to kiss him again, and when you pull away, a thin web of saliva connects your mouths, breaking. His blood-red eyes now stay on your face as you bounce on him.

"You f,feel so good, Sy..." You manage to say.

"Are you- Hm- Going to cum twice, hah- for me?"

You shake your head. "You- First."

"Hmm... What- An- Honor."

He starts thrusting upwards, hitting your cervix in that strange mix of pain and pleasure, hand still on your clit. A mix of both your arousal and his starts dripping down his shaft and staining the edges of his open pants.

"I'm going to cum, I want you to cum with me." He declares, his voice husky.

"Mh! Ah! Sy-Sylus-" You arch your back, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your reaction is all he needs. With a noise akin to a growl, he finishes inside of you, seed leaking out of your cunt. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge as well, collapsing on top of him with blurred vision.

He doesn't attempt to move, both of you now sensitive. He wraps his arms around you and caresses your hair, kissing your temple.

"That's my girl."

- dividers by @/cafekitsune

[heirofnight]

meddling

azriel x reader drabble

word count: 2k - longest drabble ever, i'm so sorry

summary: reader just escaped a horrific past that has left her closed off and in need of isolation. she takes up residence at the house of wind, finding solace in the private library. she's content to keep to herself, but a meddling house and a stray little shadow have other plans.

a/n: i wrote this very quickly, this is more like a stream of consciousness than a well-planned piece of writing lol. also my first time posting so pls be kind 😭 i just felt like writing and then ... this happened. ok enjoy!

azriel was a silent, watchful protector of yours when you initially arrived at the night court. studying you, observing you from afar. you spend most of your time on the third level of the house of wind - shy and in need of isolation. your past was something you were desperate to forget. but, even after your relocation to velaris, your mind was murky. you'd tried sorting through thoughts and emotions that you'd pushed deep down in order to survive, but it all felt akin to wading through waist-deep mud in heavy, laced-up boots. you'd found solace in the private library on the third floor, only doors down from your own chambers. many mornings you awoke, dressed, and shuffled to the warm library that was lit with beams of light from dawn's glow. you'd curl into your favorite chair that overlooked velaris and the glistening sidra far down below, taking in a centering breath. it felt like muscle memory, and the house had learned of your routine. a warm teacup waited for you, right beside your well-loved armchair. your tea was the perfect temperature: the house had learned that too. and every morning, a sly, stray tendril of shadow wove its way through the half-opened library doors. it noted your presence, your general state of well-being, before darting away playfully to relay this information back to its master. yes, rhys had asked azriel to watch over you, but even az knew that this level of attentiveness was overkill - even for him. you'd peek up at the tiny shadow each morning, expecting it now. at first, shortly after arriving at the house, you'd blink up at it - not having the mental energy to delve into its motive. now, a couple of months later, you'd felt more settled. more relaxed. and you almost considered this lone shadow to be a sweet little companion, the only being that dared approach you this frequently. you'd give it a soft grin each morning, and it would swirl happily, lazily, before departing as quickly as it came.

you were always cold. try as you might, you often only felt true, comfortable warmth when bundled beneath the layered blankets that adorned your oversized bed. you knew you shared this hallway with azriel, but rarely ever saw him. you'd hear him arrive late at night every now and then - assuming that he'd just returned from some sort of mission. what you didn't know, however, was that azriel had tried his hardest to silence the thump of his boots against the stone floor every single time he approached the arched door of your room. before, when he only shared this hallway with cassian, he'd make noise on purpose upon arriving home. his own way of letting his brother know that he was home and safe, without having to strike up any sort of conversation. he was drained after most missions, had enough of speaking. but with you occupying the room next to his own now, he wouldn't dare disturb your well-deserved, peaceful slumber. az assumed with the past you'd endured, that you'd trained yourself to sleep light. not a sound, don't fuck this up, he'd think to himself, willing his shadows to silence his footsteps entirely. even with the suppressed steps, he still tightened every single muscle. stepping so slowly, he knew he must look ridiculous. if cassian ever saw this, saw him, he would never live it down. on several occasions, your heavy wooden door had unlatched on its own during the night, leaving just enough of a space between the frame and the door that azriel could see the beige drapes that fluttered lightly against your windows through it. your sweet shadow companion would leave az's silent side to dart through the crack, and return just as quickly to whisper cold, shivering against his master's ear. to deter the draft from chilling your bones any further, azriel would reach a scarred hand out to the doorknob, closing it as silently as possible - making sure to pull until he heard the slight click of the latch.

you'd often opted to eat your meals either in the library or in your room - the house setting out a plate and silverware for you wherever you'd decided to spend your time that evening. you didn't allow yourself to wonder what the members of rhysand's family must have thought of you - a secluded, timid female that went out of her way to avoid the members of a family that had tried so hard to give her a home, a place to heal. you'd always quickly push those thoughts to the back of your mind, wanting to focus on taking care of yourself, and not others for once.

tonight, you'd chosen the library. you'd recently begun a trio of books that you'd found on one of the overflowing shelves, and you were unable to put them down once you'd started. you didn't notice the time, didn't notice the mid-afternoon sun become dusk, making the sidra glow like wildfire. you did, however, notice the grumble of your stomach once it became evening. the light of day was gone - the library now filled with the warm glow of faelights, dim candles sitting in golden candelabras, and a crackling fire within the hearth across from you. you frowned to yourself, noticing now that the house hadn't placed dinner on the mahogany coffee table that sat in front of the fire. you glanced around, the thought of verbally speaking to the house itself feeling a bit silly. you briefly told yourself that asking the house may offend it - that was even more laughable. could you offend a house? while silently mulling over these questions, that sly, sleek little tendril of shadow slowly approached you from the door of the library. it curled and twisted its way to you, stopping at your right hand to weave its way around your wrist. you looked down at it curiously - it had never touched you before, had never gotten this close. you'd deduced at this point that it was one of az's shadows - figured that it was just curious about the new presence in the house. however, it began to twirl, trying its best to get your attention. "yes?," you whispered aloud. speaking of silly interactions, you thought briefly. it weaved through your fingers, as if it were trying to hold your hand, before darting towards the door and stopping in the doorway. it was waiting for you; wanted you to follow. you cocked a curious eyebrow, slowly closing your book to set it on the table before you. gathering your linen dress in your hands, you stood, hesitantly walking towards it. "where are we going, little one?," you whispered towards it. the shadow responded immediately by darting down the hall and to the left, towards the stairs. you quickened your steps to catch up to it, only to find it waiting on the landing of the staircase for you. once you spotted it, it darted away again, down one level. peering over the railing, you noticed it twirling towards the doorway of the dining hall. family dinner was taking place, and judging by the various muffled voices and laughter you were able to hear from the staircase, everyone was present.

you tiptoed quietly down the stairs, which you realized was probably pointless. you were sure at least one of them had already picked up on your approaching scent by now. the patient shadow still waited by the door for you, swirling and twirling happily. inviting you inside to dine with its master and his family. you took a deep breath, watching as the shadow darted back to azriel's shoulder, whispering something against the shell of his ear. immediately, az's head snapped towards the doorway, meeting your own nervous gaze before you had the chance to escape without being noticed. his presence felt grounding - it had since the first time you met him. he didn't speak much, but neither did you. he felt familiar, safe, and you wondered briefly if it was due to the affection you'd grown towards his shadow that checked on you dutifully since your arrival - an act that you assumed was azriel's doing.

your hands were clasped in front of you as you nervously played with your fingers. you surveyed the room, taking everything in: the relaxed family, the spread of delicious food on the table. azriel continued to watch you with a calm, yet indiscernible expression on his face. the corner of his lips turned up just slightly, trying to convey that it was okay, you could come in. rhysand noticed you next - he followed azriel's distracted gaze to the threshold of the door, finding your small frame standing there. "well, look who it is," rhys drawled politely, loud enough to quiet the rest of the family sitting around the table. everyone's gaze found you at once, and you swallowed thickly. your eyes darted back to azriel's in a silent plead, his hazel eyes feeling like a lifeline. az nodded once, gaze soft and kind. "why don't you sit down and join us? we were hoping you would," rhys stated sincerely, gesturing a sweeping hand out over the spread of food. “help yourself, y/n. if you don’t see something you’d like, the house will prepare a more suitable meal," he smiled warmly. as if on cue, a goblet of wine, plates, and silverware appeared in front of an empty chair - courtesy of said house itself. you smiled softly, at the high lord, at the house's display of affection towards you. "thank you," you spoke warmly, perhaps the first time most of them had ever heard you speak at all.

the empty seat that was now prepared for you was right next to azriel, and you slowly made your way towards it. you felt the prying gaze of everyone at the massive dinner table, and silence still encompassed the room. your eyes flitted around nervously, and azriel tracked the movement immediately. he cleared his throat once, a silent, stoic glare tossed to his family. they got the hint, and all fell back into comfortable conversation amongst each other - attention no longer all on you. you took your place next to him, staring down at your empty plate. your hands fell into your lap, your fingers fiddling together once more. azriel watched you from his peripheral, not wanting you to feel balked at.

he leaned over finally, speaking so only you could hear, "would you like to try the potatoes?", his tone was warm and soft - comforting. you darted your gaze over to him, only meeting his eyes for a moment. he was much more intimidating up close, and you were far too shy.

"they're my personal favorite," he continued on, the corners of his mouth curled upward. you let out a small breath of a laugh, playing with a stray thread on your gown. "yes, please," you whispered to him, eyes raking over the large elaborate plates and dishes set in the middle of the table, searching for the potatoes he spoke of. before you could reach towards the gold serving spoon that sat within the buttery dish, his hand had already grasped it, bringing a heaping serving right over to your plate.

"i've got it," he spoke softly, dishing your meal. you nodded once, cheeks heating at the action. it continued this way, azriel asking if you'd like to try each entrée and side, one by one. he'd offer his own personal opinions on each one, and you'd both laughed at the way he'd described the asparagus - "absolutely abysmal," he'd report, nose scrunching dramatically.

after your plate was adequately filled, az went back to his own food. you began to poke at yours. "thank you," you whispered over to him after a moment. he glanced over at you and replied with a friendly smile, and over his shoulder appeared a small tendril of a shadow - your meddling little companion that had also apparently conspired to bring you closer to its master. it twirled your way happily, looping through your fingers and up your arm. you laughed softly, meeting azriel's sparkling hazel eyes. he smiled fondly at his shadow, "i'm sorry, sometimes it feels like they have a mind of their own," he paused for a moment, watching the smoky tendril weave through your hair. "they like you," he whispered, meeting your eyes with a grin.

"don't apologize," you replied softly. "i like them too. i think they knew i needed company," you said pointedly, not dropping his gaze for the first time all evening. he nodded in understanding, plopping another bread roll onto your plate.

"well, welcome to the family, y/n," his words were soft, but the weight you felt in your chest was overwhelming. warmth, true warmth, spread through your limbs, snuffing out the chill that had left you constantly shivering.

[viewerspookyhappenings]

okay buckle up chuckle fucks here is everything i remember from tonight (absolutely missing some stuff)

- before dan comes on he introduces himself over the speaker stating that he asked phil to do it and phil said no because he didn’t want to be sat behind a curtain for an hour

- dan comes on stage and stands in the big church plinth thing (iconic)

- he tells a story about how he went to a&e the day before yesterday because he had sore eyes. says phil was trying to get him to put eye drops in but he was being very dramatic so whilst on the phone to 111 phil knelt over him lying on the bathroom floor holding his eyes open to put drops in. dan then went to hospital to check it and everything’s fine (lol) he just needed some special eyedrops. phil did not accompany him and dan had to cross a dual carriageway on his own whilst not being able to see well (i doubt he will ever let it go)

- here is a diagram i drew on the way home to depict said event

- it is also giving this

- spoke about the butt chair. union chapel said they did not have any furniture for him to borrow so he had to bring his own - he bought the butt chair from his bedroom and a lil plant to decorate. said phil carried the plant to the car but made dan get the chair in the uber and then said “okay have fun at work sweetie” (this was said jokey but we died nonetheless)

- he then talks about pissyourselffordan trending and how he had to explain to harper collins what the actual fuck was happening on stan twt. apparently they were glad the fans were supportive and he has an engaged audience but they were not going to use the hashtag in the promo. called the whole scenario pissgate and the crowd chanted piss at him

- he was told there was wine and advertised wine before realising alcohol was not allowed in the church. he then got given a sprite and everyone screamed that it was piss

- talked about the book and the previous release, how weird covid was, talked about the photoshoot for the book cover and the graphic design. said he didn’t love the pics because they were super dramatic. someone shouted “it’s cunty” he replies: “oh it’s cunty is it?” then realises he said cunty in a church which was a big lol

- he then read the new chapters, several mentions of phil not being supportive and abandoning him at the hospital (he talked about phil a lot it was very sweet)

- then brought out dan’s slit (box used to put questions in before the show)

- the questions i can remember include but are not limited to:

- what was the weirdest position you wrote the book in: “cheeks out in an armchair curled up over my laptop, you might think your scrolling posture is okay now but when you hit thirty you will all be broken”

- fave comfort show: “the office - is the office a bit millennial? it isn’t as millennial as friends. ross being offended by a manny? that’s where my internalised homophobia is from”

- how has the gaming channel affected your mental health? A: he is finding it a lot more sustainable than before because of help with editing, but will see where it goes

- will he ever judge drag race: he didn’t want to when he was asked because he didn’t want to be exposed to more speculation about his sexuality at the time, same with strictly come dancing

- how do you cope with feeling lonely whilst surrounded by people: talked about how online friends are truly real friends and distance doesn’t have to determine friendship levels. says it is important to notice the friendships even that aren’t close

- i can’t remember the question but he said that phil has to remind him of some of the stuff that is in ywgttn when he struggles “i literally learnt the word catastrophising from your book dan come on”

- another tour? “do you guys want that” *screaming* “what would it be?” *dan and phil games screams* “well 👀👀”

- are we going to get more sister daniel: *everyone loses their minds* “maybe i should have done it for the church but it is far too exposing under the spotlight”

- did you work in the asda in Lower Earley: “what in the baby reindeer? yes i did”

- then went to the insta questions that were too inappropriate for the audiobook including

- piss

- will you wear wigs

- when will you wear wigs

- how long is your big toe “six centimetres - i don’t have a big toe im just a long person”

- pee pee poo poo time

- what were the other names for the book: “you will get through this was a bit cliche, you will get through this night? she is sexy and mysterious. at first we wanted to call it “you are messed up read this to fix your issues” but then realised the book was more serious in tone after it was finished so went with ywgttn instead”

- i genuinely can’t remember most of these i think i dissociated a lil at this point if anyone remembers please add

- then read the author’s note at the end of the paper back, talking about how lockdown impacted him and was a big scary thing and also how incredible it is to see people recommend it, find it useful, have therapists recommend it etc. “it is an honour to have created this”

- took a selfie with everyone

- someone gave him a bouquet of flowers and he said “aww you guys are so gay”

- then said “if you enjoyed seeing me in person… i’ll see you again very soon”

this is everything i remember off the top of my head so people please feel free to add what i have forgotten!!

and here are all the pics i got!!

[moonstruckme]

poly!marauders x reader helping her move into their shared flat! maybe a little angst cuz she doesn’t wanna impose but also fluffy

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“Angel, we’ve got it,” James says again, warding you off with a playfully stern look when you get too close to your own dresser. Sirius, clutching the other end for dear life, looks less confident. “Go start putting things the way you like them, we’ll handle the rest of the big stuff.” 

You give Sirius a guilty look as you do what you’re told, going into the kitchen where Remus is opening your taped-up boxes with a butter knife. 

“Best to stay out of their way,” he advises you. “Jamie will fully let go of that dresser before he lets you near it, and we’ve got a busy enough day ahead of us without taking Sirius to A&E.” 

You grin. “Too true.”

Remus makes a funny cooing sound as he pulls your heart-shaped measuring cups out of a box. “Oh, these are precious.” His bottom lip curls softly. “Is it odd that this feels sort of like opening gifts? Do you have a zester? I’ve been pining after a zester for months.” 

“I do,” you say, somewhat giddy at the prospect of having your things amongst theirs. “It’s in the other box, though.” 

“Fuck, it’s like Christmas.” Remus tears into that box, leaving you to the first. 

It helps that you already have a sense of where things go in the boys’ flat, having stayed here many nights over several months before they’d asked you to move in. You grab the next thing out of your box and reach for the cabinet behind Remus, minding his head as you open it, and look for an empty space on the top shelf. 

“Oh.” The word drops limply from your lips.

“Hm?” 

“You already have a blender.” 

“Yeah, Jamie’d never get by without one,” says Remus with a fond eye roll. “He all but lives on those protein smoothies.” 

“Right. Yeah, I forgot.” 

“You can put yours in there next to it, love.” He looks at you over his shoulder, a slight bemusement in his expression at your dispirited tone. “He leaves that thing dirty in the sink all the time, it’ll be nice to have a backup.” 

“Okay.” You slot yours in beside it, but your eyes fall to the neat stacks of plates and bowls on the shelf below them. Somewhere in the bottom of one of these boxes, you have your own plates and bowls, mismatched and collected from different stores over time. These ones are uniform, a matched set. “Do you think my dishes will go okay in here?” 

“What do you mean?” Remus turns around, following your gaze to the cabinet. “We’ve got plenty of room.” 

“I know, but…” But with your dishes added onto theirs, they’ll be stacked nearly to the top of the shelf. More than anyone needs. “You all picked yours out together, and mine don’t match. I don’t want to add things you don’t like.” 

“You won’t be.” Seeming to sense you need it, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, standing with your back to his front. “Darling, we picked out these dishes because when we moved in here, all three of us had only been using paper plates. It wasn’t a big decision, we just needed to feel like adults.” You can hear his smile close to your ear. “Don’t worry about matching, alright?” 

“Alright,” you say, sinking into his hold, but your mind is already cataloging every way you could be intruding. 

Your glasses won’t go with theirs either, and neither will your pots and pans. The cabinets will be full to bursting. By the window, their little kitchen table has three chairs. The couch in the living room is only big enough to fit three, the armchair they’d bought to accommodate you when you started coming over regularly sitting off to the side. Separate. 

“Hey,” says James, popping into the kitchen. You’re partway through unloading your kitchen things, your guilt mounting with every overstocked shelf. “Do you want to come tell us where you’d like your dresser? We’re having some trouble, it’s a bit of a tight fit.” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly, following him down the hall. Remus, the unofficial master of logistics, comes behind you. 

In the bedroom, Sirius is trying to jam your dresser in between a nightstand and the wall, shoving it with his shoulder and threatening to take off the paint in the process. 

“Stop!” you and Remus say in unison, him rushing forward to grab Sirius while you hang back, open-mouthed. 

“You’re scuffing the wall,” Remus tells Sirius, not unkindly. “Don’t try to make it fit if it doesn’t, love.” 

The words ring around in your head, an omen. 

“I don’t need it,” you say. All three boys turn to look at you, various degrees of befuddled. “It doesn’t fit, it’s fine. I can get rid of it.” 

“It’ll fit,” says Sirius. “We’ve hardly tried yet.” 

“Angel, you love that dresser.” James looks like a confused puppy, clearly having caught onto the fact that something’s wrong but unsure what it is.

You shrug, trying to look nonchalant. You do love it, truthfully. It’s been with you since you moved into your first place, collecting tiny scratches and absorbing the coalescent scent of the candles you keep in the top drawer. It’s been the hallmark of every home that’s ever been your own, but this place isn’t just yours. Your boyfriends are already doing a lot by sharing their space with you, and you don’t want to be more trouble than you’re worth. 

“It doesn’t fit,” you say simply. “It’s okay.” 

“We can put it right there,” Remus says. The three of you turn, and there is a wall by the door, entirely blank. You’d completely forgotten about it. 

“Perfect. Genius, Rem.” James beams at Remus, his expression gentling when he looks back at you. “Okay, lovely?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You smile weakly. Sirius makes a tsking sound, regarding you through narrowed eyes. 

“You’re being weird. Spill.” 

You shrug again, arms wrapping around your middle of their own volition. “I just didn’t think about how much stuff I have until now,” you admit. “You guys already have everything perfect in here, I don’t just want to…cram my stuff in when it’s already the way you like it. I don’t know, it…” You study the floorboards, unable to look at any of them. “It feels like I’m butting in a bit.” 

For a thick, dreadful moment, the boys are silent. 

“We want you to have your things here,” Remus says softly,  “because we want you here, dove.” 

“Alright, let’s not act as though that was ever in question.” Sirius shoots you a smile, dimming a bit when you look at him sheepishly. “Sweetheart, obviously we want you here. Why would we have asked you to move in if we didn’t?”

You nibble the inside of your cheek. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your minds. You guys work together so well already.” 

“We work together with you even better.” James comes up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug like he’s unable to help himself. He sets his lips on your shoulder, words buzzing against your skin. “It wouldn’t feel right if you were here and none of your stuff was. There’s plenty of room, but if in some places there’s not then we’ll make room. We want you here, okay?” 

You nod, trying to make yourself believe it. 

“Let’s have a break,” Remus suggests. “There’s lemonade in the fridge.” 

“Yes please.” Sirius is quickly onboard. “I can feel the soreness coming on already; my muscles have never been so terribly abused. I’m going to need a massage tonight, definitely.” 

“I’ll do it,” you offer. James keeps you tucked under his arm as you all start back down the hall. “Seems like the least I can do.” 

“In that case, I think my thighs are taking the brunt of it. Better pay the most attention to those, sweetness.” 

“These are privileges which you shall have from this night onward,” says James, mashing a kiss into your hair. “Welcome home, angel.” 

[luveline]

you can ignore me for the rest of time and I will still dutifully show up to read your work every day ~ can I request some angsty bombshell x spencer? maybe their first actual fight and spence snaps at her so bombshell r crying and locks herself in their room and he apologizes through the door but still sleeps on the couch and she comes and snuggles in the middle of the night and forgives him bc she can’t sleep? this is so self indulgent pls feel free to change anything you want love you jade

thank u for requesting! —spencer makes you cry. fem, 1k

Spencer can’t stand hearing you cry. He can’t believe he’s the one who caused it —he didn’t mean to, he just got so annoyed at you, everything’s difficult lately now you’ve moved in together permanently because you practically living at his apartment is apparently not the same as truly living with one another. 

He knows neither of you are unhappy living together, but you haven’t fought before, not like this. He stands just outside the bedroom door where you’ve sequestered yourself, ashamed of making you this upset. He doesn’t let himself in. “Y/N?” 

“Go away, Spencer,” you say. To your credit, you try to sound calmer than you are. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Please don’t cry.” 

“Spencer,” you say, a line of anger darkening your words, “leave me alone.” 

He shouldn’t have said you were being lazy. You aren’t lazy, you’re tired. Moving in together has been really hard on you, even if you won’t admit it, or show it externally. He just wanted to say something mean, because you’d said you allowed him to have that ugly armchair in the living room and he got mad —it’s not ugly, and he wasn’t allowed, he’s a grown man. 

He just can’t feel angry about it anymore hearing your sad sniffling. He said something too mean, he took it too far, and maybe he was ‘allowed’. Moving in together is about compromise, and you’d compromised, and he’s punishing you for it. 

“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I– I was being mean and you didn’t deserve that. I’ll be out here if you… if you wanna talk to me,” he says, turning to leave with his head held low. 

He waits all night for you to come out, if it were just to drink some water or use the bathroom, but after a few minutes he can’t hear you crying, and you don’t make any sounds. He thinks he might hear you moving the sheets aside some time toward 10PM, but there’s nothing after that. He falls asleep on the couch, sulking, wishing he hadn’t been such an idiot. 

You let yourself out of your shared bedroom in the middle of the night. The sheets don’t smell enough like him, and you want to hold his hand, and you want to know he’s really not mad at you. That he doesn’t really think you’re lazy. 

Quiet, you walk downstairs and into the living room, where Spencer sleeps stretched out on the couch. It’s a big couch, meant for soft sitting, wide enough that, were you to set a baby down, they couldn’t roll off accidentally. Spencer’s on his side with his arm curled around one of the bigger pillows, brown strands of hair falling into his face.

He’s not a deep sleeper, but you can’t say you’re scared to wake him. You pull the pillow from his arms and sit on the couch beside him, working your way into his side, and encouraging his arm over yours. Gentle, you brush the mess of his hair from his eyes. He doesn’t even have a blanket.

You hold his sleeping face in your hands. His eyes twitch and scrunch tighter at your touching, worried, but you give a gentle, “Shh,” and he relaxes. His eyes smooth, then open, lashes struggling apart, the brown of his eyes dark as a roasted chestnut. 

He whispers your name, tongue heavy with sleep. 

“Mm,” you reply, tucking his hair behind his ears. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You press your face to his neck, letting yourself deflate as you wait for his arms to lock you in. It can’t be five seconds before he’s curling his arms around you carefully, kissing your hairline, the first bit of skin he can reach at this angle. He’s not quite awake yet, you know, can tell from countless times sleeping in his bed. If he were to fall back to sleep, he wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. 

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper.

“Oh,” he says, with all the tenderness of a pet name, dripping, palpable adoring, “want tea?” 

“Want you.” 

He strokes your shoulder. You’re the one being hugged, really, but Spencer’s grip gets so tight you worry he needs one. You wrap your arms behind him, close your eyes tight to stop from getting teary. 

“I don’t like fighting,” you say. 

“M’sorry.” 

“Do you want to kiss and make up?” 

He stills. “You’re not mad?” 

“You really upset me, Spence. N’ I bet you know that n’ feel bad enough already,” you mumble. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was being childish.” 

You forgive him. Everybody’s allowed to be mean every once in a while. You’d been arguing, and you can feel now that he regrets it, his hands apprehensive but somehow loving still as they touch your back through the thin fabric of a t-shirt he’d bought you. The front has a silly graphic on it, some equation that spells out love. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m not mad. I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me, so… Let’s not fight again.” 

“I don’t like it when you cry.” 

You shake your head gently, slotting yourself into all his nooks and crevices. Your legs tangled, the couch is an ample bed for two people trying to be as close to each other as humanly possible. You don’t like crying either, not over Spencer, not thinking he doesn’t see you in the light you’d thought he did. 

“Do you really think I’m lazy?” you ask. 

“No, I was being awful,” he says, sounding deeply repentant. 

Well, there’s no need to punish him, you decide, not when he’s beating himself up already. You cup the back of his head to tap your foreheads together, any aches and pains of the bed disappearing in the eye of his softness. He’s gaining confidence now you’ve touched his hair, his hands travelling low to the small of your back, your face once again pushed into the curve of his neck, where you stay. 

[yopossum]

JOEL SAT ON ME AND I CONSIDERED IT AN HONOR AND A PRIVILEGE

My contribution for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits On You challenge is complete!!

Main Masterlist

Married!Joel x wife reader - M - 18+ only, weight gain talk and appreciation, drunkenness, Joel is a big ol love bug who wants to squish his perfect wife (you)

Snug

You were curled up in your old green tufted armchair, had just finished a chapter of your book, and were debating making another cup of tea when the tell-tale squeak of the front steps accompanied by heavy footsteps and drunken muttering alerted you to your husband’s return.

“Mmm, gotta… fix… ‘s not safe… gonna… gonna get hurt… not my baby…. Ah shit… where’s my…. ‘S still unlocked?”

With an aggressive jiggle of the knob, Joel came crashing into the house, stumbling over the toes of his boots and looking up bashfully.

“Hey handsome,” you smirked. “Have fun with Tommy?”

“Not ‘s much fun as I have with my beautiful wife,” he slurred, pointing a wobbling finger your direction. “Thas you, baby.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Joel,” you laughed. “You two had a bit to drink, it sounds like.” You set your book down on the coffee table alongside your empty mug and stretched your arms up to the ceiling, yawning.

“Jus’ a few, darlin’. Missed you too much, had to come home t’ ya. Need t’ see you. Alllllllll the time. Thas how much I wanna look atcha.” The booze stretched his twang out, slowed his speech, words sloshing and swinging from his lazy tongue like it was a porch rocker on a hot summer day. It wasn’t often Joel let himself relax, and it was a treat when he got loose like this.

God, you adored him.

“You hungry, babe?” you asked your bumbling hunk. “I left you a plate in the microwave in case all you two had was whiskey and peanuts.”

Joel groaned appreciatively. “Fuuuck, honey. How d’ya always know jus’ what I need? What’d I ever do t’ deserve you, hm? Funny, so damn smart, so kind, you’re gorgeous. Smell good. Perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

“Go get your dinner, Romeo,” you cut him off with a snort. With an over-the-top wink, Joel sauntered into the kitchen. You watched him go with a grin, admiring (honestly, ogling) the delicious way his jeans hugged him and the flex of his broad back under the snug green plaid shirt he favored.

A few years in, and marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all a happier person. The only drawback, to him, seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. Regular meals, fewer hours out at the job site, more time spent enjoying life’s small pleasures. Add in plain old aging, and some body changes were inevitable. God knows you’d had plenty of them yourself.

You knew Joel was a little sensitive about his pants fitting a bit tighter, the buttons of his ancient flannels straining slightly more than they used to over the swell of his belly. But where these changes made Joel frown at his reflection when he caught himself in the mirror before a shower, or sigh when he had to punch a new hole in his single belt, they had no negative effect on you whatsoever.

To your husband’s surprise, you were ravenous for his softening body. Your hands often found their way to his pockets to palm his plump ass through the denim, to the hem of his shirt to stroke the round warm underside of his stomach, to pat and squeeze his thick thighs. When he came inside you each night (and most mornings) and tried to hover over himself your body to kiss you after finishing, you often yanked him down on top of you, relishing the crushing weight of your husband enveloping your form like the world’s sexiest, most affectionate weighted blanket.

You couldn’t get enough of him, so having more Joel to love? A blessing. And when he loped back into the living room, his plate heaped with the dinner you’d made earlier, wearing a smile wide and dopey, you were happy that the most hardworking, self-sacrificing man you’d ever known entrusted you with his comfort.

He plopped onto the sofa, a little harder than he probably meant to, and sat his plate on the end of the coffee table nearest to you.

“Looks so good, sugar, you’re amazin’. Fuckin’ girl of my dreams. And you *married me*! Wow. Wowwwww.” The tips of Joel’s ears and the rounds of his cheeks were peony pink, his eyes glassy with both drink and adoration. He took a forkful of the pasta and vegetables from his plate and opened his mouth around it with a moan. “Baby, mmmmfff, Jesus,” he mumbled through chews, eyes closing in ecstasy as he ate.

“Sober Joel is going to be mortified when I tell him about Drunk Joel’s table manners,” you snickered. You unfolded your legs and reached a foot towards the couch, poking at him in the side with your pointed toes.

“Naw,” he said with a dramatic shake of his head, swallowing his bite. You couldn’t help but track the way his Adam’s apple slid along his tan, taut throat, and despite his hazy state, he clocked it immediately. “Y’aren’t gonna tell that asshole anythin’. Jus’ our little secret, sweetheart.” He licked his lips, tongue poking into the corner to catch a spot of sauce that lingered in his mustache. “I’ll make it worth your while, promise this Joel knows ‘xactly whatcha like,” he hummed, eyes gleaming and dimple pitting deep in his rosy cheek.

“I’m not gonna fuck you when you’re drunk, Miller, if that’s what you’re getting at.” You cackled when he scowled, sticking out his lower lip in a nearly-irresistible pout.

“But what if I want to real bad, Miller?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I’ll letcha have your way with me any damn day, honey, please. I’m achin’ for ya.” His eyebrows curled up in a pitiful plea, his big brown sad puppy dog eyes in full force.

You leaned forward in your chair, planting your feet on the ground. “I’ll have my way with you when you’re not plastered, I swear.” Joel dropped his head in disappointment, whining.

“Jus’ love you so much…” he murmured at the floor. “Wanna show you… take such good care ‘a me, make me feel so good… best wife of every wife, give me the best life…”

Your heart was full to burst. “Come here, you big sentimental sap,” you said, sitting back and opening your arms to your pathetically endearing enormous drunken husband.

Rather than walk, Joel slid from the couch cushions to the floor with a thud and proceeded to crawl on his hands and knees across the rug, stopping at your feet and looking up at you sheepishly through long dark lashes.

You gestured to your lap. “Up.”

Joel clambered from the ground, dropping himself solidly into the cradle of your body (eliciting a breathy OOF as he knocked the wind from your lungs) and curling up like a pillbug against your chest. The chair creaked in fruitless protest. You struggled to catch your breath and adjust your legs underneath him, but managed to encourage his head into the crook of your neck so you could nuzzle into his soft silvered curls, press kisses to the lines across his forehead. Your arms didn’t fit all the way around him, but you snuck them in at his waist and ran your thumbs back and forth along the meat of his hips.

Joel burrowed his face into the space above your collarbone, nudging his nose up against your throat and humming softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the dip there. “Thas’ real nice. Love you s‘much,” he buzzed into your warm skin. Your ribs couldn’t quite expand enough to take your regular breaths without effort, and numbness was prickling your thighs and asscheeks, but you made no effort to move.

“‘M not hurtin’ you, honey, am I?” Joel’s quiet voice was already honeying over with the pull of slumber. His breath slowed and evened, inching its way toward soft snores.

“Not at all, sleepyhead,” you assured him, whispering warmly into the smooth shell of his ear, giving it a gentle nibble before laying your cheek against the top of his head. “You’re perfect.”

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room. 

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep. 

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce. 

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show. 

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you. 

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name. 

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained. 

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No. 

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued. 

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower. 

No hair. 

No makeup. 

Great. 

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down. 

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit. 

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour. 

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for. 

Three interviews down, two to go.  

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.  

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated. 

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers. 

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is. 

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so” 

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life. 

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum, 

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest. 

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present. 

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh. 

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words. 

Betrayal? 

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath. 

You will not cause a scene. 

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you. 

You will not give him what he wants. 

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps. 

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick. 

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond? 

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet. 

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror. 

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red. 

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album. 

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process. 

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately. 

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour. 

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates. 

Well, mostly with Aemond. 

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now. 

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close. 

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name. 

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak. 

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body. 

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it. 

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can” 

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses. 

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches. 

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition. 

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained. 

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan. 

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin. 

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories. 

They hurt the most. 

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be. 

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own. 

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time. 

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving. 

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap. 

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you. 

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over, 

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented” 

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking. 

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks. 

“Of course”, you reply shortly. 

Why is he asking for permission? 

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds, 

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door, 

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind. 

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin. 

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room. 

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic. 

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you? 

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name. 

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night. 

“What would you do if I were there?” 

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background. 

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”. 

Aemond groans. 

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are. 

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you. 

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage. 

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good. 

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers. 

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’. 

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio. 

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing, 

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’ 

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him. 

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience. 

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best. 

Where you can contribute something to the world. 

Make people happy. 

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song. 

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder. 

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you. 

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing, 

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back. 

Fuck that. 

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell. 

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’ 

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down. 

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you. 

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching. 

Why is he suddenly so intimidating? 

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago. 

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago. 

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man. 

You hear the crowd cheer. 

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye. 

The crowd cheers louder and louder. 

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar. 

Never looking down. 

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

[bluetimeombre]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Notice

Sometimes, even the big bad wolf needs his calm, in his case, it's you.

[finally I got the request out for introverted reader. I to love this idea, I do genuinly believe Logan would just love someone he could relax with after all the pain he's been through- like him and Kayla in Wolverine which we don't talk about enough. I hope you enjoy, I tried to get it out quicker but i'm working on other little thing for Hugh and Logan, so keep your eyes out. No warnings for this, accept fluff and a little angst cause i'm a sucker for it.]

Logan couldn't pin point the moment he noticed you but once he had, there was no going back.

Everything- everyone- in the mansion was hard to handle. All 100% all the time. Storm, the Professor, even Jean grated him enough of the times. With their insistence he join the team, with the nagging, the missions, the danger rooms, the blah blah blah.

So when he was out for a run, blowing the steam Scott had given him that morning, and he spotted you surrounded by students, huddled by a tree, he paused. He very almost ran into a kid as he did, squinting at you as you practically glowed in the sun.

Was that your mutation? To glow? To capture his attention?

You were showing the kids something, and they all listened, enamoured. As he would be, with your smile, your ... calm.

You caught him staring and faltered. He only crossed his arms over his chest and watched as you tried to continue teaching. Eventually, you set the class on some task and Logan slowly made his way to you.

"Hello Logan," you greeted.

He didn't know why it surprised him you knew his name, you must have been here longer than he had for you to teach. He watched you as you watched the children, noticing how you pulled at the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands. "What are they doin'?" he asked, gesturing to the kids.

"Just learning about life," you mumbled. That was your mutation, a connection the nature, to the trees and the very life that hummed under you.

So very different to him, who took life with the swipe of his claws.

"I'll er, see you," you added before walking away from him.

Logan couldn't shake you for the rest of the day. He walked by your class room later, saying hello to you. He never had before. That night, he found he couldn't sleep and he walked by your bedroom which just so happened to be on his way. The door was open ajar and you were no where to be seen.

You were down in the kitchen, sitting in an armchair by the window with a book in your lap and a steaming how cup of coffee next to you. He approached quietly, watching from the doorway as you were bathed in moonlight.

Eventually, as you went to grab your hot coffee, you spotted him. "Logan?" you spilled a bit over your hand, seething and putting it down. "Sorry, I- I didn't see you there."

He smirked. "Kinda the idea."

He ducked under a counter and pulled out a beer from his secret stash. He took some kitchen roll as he did before walking over to you, gesturing down to the empty chair across from you.

You nodded and he sat, taking the cap of the beer with his teeth and spitting it on the floor. "We don't have beer here," you said.

Logan raised a brow. "No? huh," he took a swig, watching you. "Here." he put his beer next to your coffee and takes your hand, wiping away the coffee.

"I'm ok," you mumble, though letting him dab it away.

"Just making sure, bub," he said, glancing up at you. You'd closed the book but kept a finger where he'd interrupted. "What are you reading?"

You seemed shocked that he asked as you have to think for a moment. "Oh just um, a book."

"A book, huh?" he hummed.

"A book," you repeated.

"What's it about?" he asked, leaning back and taking his beer again.

You shake your head, curling into yourself. "It's just about... art history. Read it?"

He smirked. "I don't read."

You nod, pursing your lips and adjusting the book in your lap. Your head, turned down.

He watched your for a second. He saw your eyes turn around the page but you didn't seem to be taking it in. He sipped his beer and tried to think of another way to start a conversation with you. Not that the silence wasn't welcome, it was after all the noise of the day, but he wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to know your voice even when he knew nothing else. "Wanna know how I snuck beer in this place?"

You glanced up at him, closing your book again. "Do I want to know?"

"Well, it's a neat little trick," he said, spinning the bottle around.

"And if Charles's comes snooping?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Then there's plenty of kids for me to blame it on," he said. "C'mon, you telling me you're not a rule breaker?"

You laugh at the very idea. "No. No, i'm not."

"Why not? Afraid you might get a taste for it?" he teased.

You blushed and he found delight in that.

Most nights, that how it went. In the day he was dealing with everyone's bullshit and at night he'd find you in your chair, reading or what you called crocheting. You even tried to teach him once but in a fit of anger that he couldn't get it, his claws slashed out and tore it.

Logan apologised but to his delight you laughed only.

In the day he always sort you out, or watched from afar as you taught, or sat in the sun. You never participated in danger room sessions. But you were no less a friend to Ororo or Jean, sometimes he'd catch you outside with Scott, talking and laughing and he found he'd never wanted to rip Summer's head from him more.

"I didn't know you and Summer's were... close," he said one night the two of you were in the kitchen. You were hunched over paper, drawing whatever you could see in the dark garden while he fixed himself up a sandwich.

"We've worked together for years," you said, "we were in the same classes together too."

"And you don't find him a pain in the ass?" he asked.

You chuckled. "Not as much as you, Logan, I expect."

Logan hummed a laugh and came over to you, offering you half the sandwich.

You peered at him and he insisted. “I’m not hungry.”

“You barley ate anything at lunch, c’mon, it’s my speciality.”

In the night, the two of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each others company.

Logan was simply fine admiring you for half the night. "Why don't you talk much?"

You glance is way, pulling your sweater back down. "I just don't have much to say."

"C'mon, i'm sure you do," he said. "Seems like everyone always has something to say round here.”

“I don’t have anything useful to contribute,” you shrug, taking a bite of what he made for you.

Something like pride filled him. He didn’t know that doing the plain old domestic stuff could mean so much to him, because when it was only him, he never cared, but you, god, there was no limit to what he felt for you. “That’s not true,” he said, leaning over closer to you. “Wanna hear every thought that pops into that pretty little head.”

You glance his way, blushing. You swallow your food and wipe away the crumbs. “And why is that, Logan?”

He frowned at the question. “Because it’s you. I-I like you, bub. Better than anyone else in this place,” he said. This place wasn’t descriptive enough for him. “I like you most in the whole world.”

After that little confession that had you stunned, Logan was all over you. Most the days when he has nothing to do he followed you around like a puppy, even chose to help out in classes just to be close to you.

It was worth every second, just to hear your voice and see you get passionate.

Slowly, you started to note this and finally opened up to him more. You’d talk about the books you were reading or invite him to your favourite spots in the garden. You’d even tried to crochet for him.

It was peace, and in his life time of war, Logan never thought he’d deserve it.

But peace never lasted long for him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The mission was supposed to be a quick and done deal: investigate the factory and rescue any mutants stuck, but he hadn’t accounted for the mutant who poisoned his mind.

He was in the pale corridors of the facility before his mind took him to the mansion. It was wrecked, holes in walls and windows shattered. There was blood splattered like a painting. Slowly, he wondered the corridors, every step a tremble.

There were children, lying in blood, as well as Storm, Jean, Scott, but then, there was you.

Logan screamed. Logan yelled, he fell to his knees and crawled the rest of the way there. To you. His skin was was soaking in your blood, his hands clawing to get to you, to bring in your body to his. He cried out, nuzzilng his face in your neck.

It didn't feel like a dream, it felt painfully real. It wasn't until there was a searing pain in the back of his head that his eyesight blurred and the blood was gone, so were you.

"It wasn't real, Logan," said Scott, pulling him up. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

Logan couldn't register who was pulling him up, or who was talking to him. As his vision cleared, he looked for you and all he knew was that he couldn't find you. "Y-Y/N?"

"She's at home, Logan, c'mon." Scott managed to assort the rest of the team and get them to the jet before flying at a never before seen speed to get back to the mansion.

Logan's knee jittered as he remembered your voice. As he remembered your smile and the way you blushed whenever he looked at you long enough. The soft brush of your touch and the scent your hair carried in the wind. He tried to remember it all, as if when he returns, you won't be there.

Before the jet had even landed, as the sun rose over the school, Logan was jumping out and stalking into the place. He tried not to run, not to give into the urgency.

He went to your bedroom first, but you weren't there. Your sheets were tossed aside and it was empty. So was your classroom.

The sweat started rolling down as he looked around. It was so early, nobody else was up but he was sure with his heavy steps and ragged breaths, he was waking everyone up.

"Y/N? no, no, no," he mumbled. He eventually made it out, taking deep gulps of air and searching the grounds.

You stood with your back to him, a blanket wrapped around you and bathing in the soft light.

"Y/N?"

By the time you'd turned around, Logan was already catapulting into you, sweeping you from your feet and bringing you into his chest. His hand tangled in your hair, breathing you in.

"Logan?" you mumbled, arms awkwardly coming around him. "Everything alright?"

His head shook. "I thought... I thought you-" he found the strength to pull away from you, taking in every detail like he'd never see you again. "I missed you, bub."

There was accusation in your eyes but you didn't voice them. Instead, your knuckles brushed his cheek, smoothing away the lines of stress.

That night, with his head in your lap, you read to him. And Logan knew, nothing would ever happen to you.

He would make sure of it.

taglist (thank you! let me know if you want to be added for more hugh and logan or removed): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory

[ervotica]

Imagine this: youre in college, and after all those boring classes you come to your job at the donaldsons that includes riding him in the couch for as long as your legs allow you.

Tashi just coming home to thats sight and just making herself a afternoon drink unbotherd.

Dbsnhxhsb

omg shut up???🥲

warnings; all smut not much plot, older!art, so much potential for this series aghhh

a/n; art is an ear freak i literally feel it in my balls he loves it when u suck on them ears (he did it to tashi so he likes doing it to others too <3)

the front door clicks and you wander through, in this teensy little white tennis dress that art told - no, commanded - you to wear when you came to work. the dress that shows the strain of your hard nipples through the fabric, swollen into points like diamonds, the one that slips upward and reveals the perky swells of your ass, the barely covered seam of your pussy when you trounce up to him, chirruping nonsense and smiling at him like he’s the only man in the world.

he murmurs something indiscernible - a pleased noise that reverberates at the back of his throat - and you lean over the back of the couch, sliding your manicured fingers across the expanse of his chest, chin tucked to his neck.

“hi.”

“hi, baby,” he murmurs in that low, rasping way that turns your insides molten.

fast forward no more than ten minutes, and you’re both bare, art’s thick fingers curled round your waist as he uses you as a fleshlight, lifting you up and down like a ragdoll and watching, entranced, as your cunt flares and parts for his thick cock; you sob and babble, slumped forward against his chest, nails digging into porcelain skin, teeth scraping along art’s cheekbone.

“i know, baby. i know,” he grunts, and you’ve never heard a sound like it. your cunt clenches, a soft silk wrap around his cock, and he’s turning his head to suck at the corner of your mouth, all spit and drool and tongue, so much of it that it drips from your chin, globs of it pooling between your tits.

the front door clicks and you’re both too lost in each other to care as tashi comes through the living room and enters the kitchen; art hooks one of his huge hands under the crease of your knee, lifting your leg until it’s draped over his forearm, bracing his feet against the leather of the couch as he jackrabbits up into you. you make a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, and then tashi’s figure is crossing by you once more, drink in hand, lithe fingers nudging at your jaw to examine your expression. she bends at the waist, pinches your pert little nipple and rolls the bud between her fingertips, and smirks - fucking smirks - as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice; art lets out a stuttered breath, pulls you down onto him, and cums on the spot.

neither of you quit writhing against each other; he has at least another load in him, cock already chubbing back up encased in your spasming walls, no doubt an angry red and drooling precum. tashi settles herself on the armchair opposite you, already disinterestedly flicking through tv channels.

“want my mouth on you,” you whisper, face pressed just below his jaw, breathing hot air onto his neck.

“in a minute, baby,” he supplicates, grunting as he sheathes himself further into your tight warmth, balls heavy and swollen and slapping against your ass with every filthy rock of his hips.

tashi crosses one leg over the other, the picture of boredom, and says, “bite his ear. he loves that shit.”

you do just that, teeth rolling over his lobe as you suck the sensitive skin into your mouth.

he almost cums again, hands sliding up and over your back to still your movements so he doesn’t blow his load right there.

oh, tashi’s going to have fun with you. mould you into a perfect little toy for her husband, take some of his intense, fervent pining off of her, let you be the center of his world so she can focus on improving his game.

she might even keep you if you’re lucky.

[planete777]

I WANT YOU BAD・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n (and a good joint) is lando's best distraction. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, drug use (as per), unprotected p in v, riding, lordddd they are filty, dirty talk, squirting, high hotness pt 345345, lando is in love with the reader (as per pt. 2), guys it's just filth filth filth

NOTE. yoohoooo im soo back!!! first fic release after like 3 months haha.... but it's high!lando so, forgive me plz 😔🙏 anyways, i'm slowly getting back into the groove of writing (i only wrote a tad bit during my break smh) and im sorry if im a bit rusty. hopefully, its only up from here. enjoy my dearest readers, and feedback is always welcomed <3

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc for lando 🤍

there's a gentle, warm thrum that bubbles beneath lando's skin, like a premise of excitement, tendrils of smoke tearing and stitching sentience with sluggish countenance. doesn't see a thing beyond a feet before him, and can't feel anything (yet feels everything) sauf the familiar radiation of body heat from the girl pressed limply into him.

two things for the price of one, it barely gets better than this. he feels like a magic act, cartoonish smears of smoke coalescing, then dimming as he inhales and exhales and inhales again. every taut stress from the day slowly flakes off his muscles, and succeeding another drag of the joint, he lets a gentle sigh huff out of him.

"better now?"

y/n's voice sounds like soft lace in his ears, and she snuggles closer into his shoulder, hand splayed, and weighty, upon his chest. she feels completely dead, always getting too high too fast, but never lets the warnings rid her of the euphoria. lando knows that, and can't blame her either; there's something unequivocally beautiful about getting high and losing the ability to connect one thought to another.

he shifts- he thinks he does so- rolling the spliff between his fingers before curling his lips to push out the smoke that began to scratch striations into his throat.

"yeah," he drawls out, "never go wrong with a good spliff."

y/n just barely giggles, palm rubbing up and down lando's chest. he swears he's on fucking fire, neurones charging and buzzing and crackling at every heightened numbness, and all he can do is take another drag.

there's a blanket of silence, comfortable and observing, before lando feels her, wantonly, drag her hand over his crotch then squeezes; and, jesus fucking christ, the moan that's punched out of him is ungodly.

"y/n- fucking hell," he leaves it at that, slowly swivelling his head towards her. she's smiling, largely and so gorgeously that lando feels like he's levitating. why is she looking at him like that?

"wanna fuck you, lan'," she whispers, redundant because it's already so damningly filthy, "make you lose your shit."

lando is struck speechless and completely horny, blood swelling his cock to where it edges pain, but god, does it feel so fucking good that all he can do is moan and tighten his grip on y/n's thigh sprawled across his body.

she smirks, sitting upright and slides to straddle lando, hips grinding heavily into his and the pressure is glorious.

"you like that, huh?" she bites her lower lip and presses harder, lando's head lolling to the backrest of the armchair. he could cum right into his pants if his motive wasn't to do it deep into y/n's cunt instead.

"you know i do, baby," he takes another drag, doesn't know how he musters the effort to, "you riding me is a sight."

she giggles, "just staring at my tits as i'm doing so, you fucker."

lando shakes his head, "nah, i meant all of you, baby. so beautiful," then he's smiling and pulling her into a kiss that's just tongue and want, lando gripping a hand around her nape. he can die like this, he thinks, encompassed in the feeling of a throbbing dick and a sloppy, wet mouth— all of it.

y/n curls her fingers around the hem of his joggers, lifting her hips- their lips still attached- and sliding them down his thighs. cool air caresses his cock, pulsating, weeping and redder than she's ever seen it before, lando moaning at the relief as it slaps against his abdomen.

"oh lan' look at you," she whispers, wrapping her hand around his cock (the way he squirms at that is indescribable), "you need my pussy that bad?"

it's all faux concern, but it does the trick, lando nodding and on the verge of sobbing when she clenches her fist.

"come on- fuck me, y/n," he's whining and squirming, hands grabbing at her shorts to tug it off after wedging the joint between his lips. she stands up, lando's hands trailing away as she goes to slide them off, crumpling at her feet. and all lando thinks is mylovemylovemylove. his skin burns like he's being dipped in lava, yanking his shirt off and throwing it to the ground.

the girl wastes no time crawling back into his lap, hovering over his erect cock as she takes both hands, spreads her cheeks and sheaths him in.

"y/n- ohh fuckkk-"

the slide— it's so so good, lando's losing his mind, he wants to ask 'no prep?' but fuck, she's taking him so well that he just shuts off. he pants roughly, eyes squeezing shut as she whines and bottoms out, feeling deeper than he has ever been. he's tingling everywhere, a shaking a hand plucking his spliff out of his mouth and unto the couch, feeling y/n's tight, hot pussy grip him with every inch of its life. and just when he thinks it's nearly too much, she starts to move.

y/n grinds and bounces like a fucking pornstar, shirt and bra she had on a few minutes ago strewn somewhere in the room, tits jumping and nipples swollen. oh, it's such a view and as much as lando wants to keep watching, a spark of pleasure causes his eyes to hurl to the back of his head, body flushed deeply and mouth slackened as it leaks a thick moan.

"your cock, lan'- shit, i'm gonna cum so hard," y/n's voice sounds so ruined and lando is obsessed with it, eyes opening as he gives her a small smirk. hands run all over her body- her legs, her breasts- before settling on her ass and languidly dragging it up and down his cock. y/n's reaction is immediate, trembling and crying out a high pitched moan that almost has lando cumming right there.

"i want you to cum so hard, baby. this is your cock," he huffs, hips thrusting upwards and slapping against y/n's ass. the sounds make his mind go static; it's so filthily good, skin hitting skin.

y/n smashes her lips against lando's as she works her hips harder, feeling the cold metal of his chain bind to chest. they can barely kiss, panting into each other's mouth- then lando's cock stabs her g spot, hard, and she's screaming and cumming, liquid running between her thighs and cunt squeezing lando so damn tight, he's pushing her hips into his, yelping, and spurting cum, thick and warm, into y/n.

"fuck fuck fuck- oh god baby, just like that," lando speaks into her skin, "just like that."

he rolls his hips to ride out their highs, pleasure setting deep in his veins before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her towards him, leaning back.

"fuck, i love you," lando whispers, pressing kisses into her shoulder.

"even when i squirt all over you?"

lando smirks, placing a kiss on her lips, "especially when you squirt, baby.

[aemondwhoresworld]

STRANGER TO LOVERS

pairing: mafia!cregan stark x reader

summary: after eight months of being in an arrange marriage, mafia boss of the city of winterfell finally confessed his true feelings for his wife, y/n

word count: 1,5k

warning: english is not my first language. modern au, arrange marriage (?), angst to fluff, use of y/n.

masterlist | ADD YOURSELFT TO MY TAGLIST

The city of Winterfell was a frigid, unforgiving place, but it was also the heartbeat of Cregan Stark’s empire. A dynasty of power and shadow, the Stark family had ruled the city’s underworld for generations. Cregan was no exception, standing at the helm of the family’s criminal syndicate. Despite the harshness of his world, Cregan ruled with a code—one that valued loyalty above all. He was feared, respected, and rarely challenged.

But within the icy walls of Stark Manor, a different battle raged. It wasn’t over territory or power but something far more complicated—his feelings for you, his wife of eight months.

Their marriage had been an arrangement, forged not from love but from necessity. Cregan needed an alliance to secure his hold on Winterfell, and your family had deep ties in the South. The union had been strategic, coldly calculated like everything else in his life. Or at least, that’s what Cregan had convinced himself.

You are beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely independent. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on you, Cregan had felt something shift inside him—something he’d never felt before. But he was a Stark, and Starks didn’t show weakness, especially not to their wives. He’d kept his distance, playing the role of the detached husband, leaving you to the sprawling mansion while he handled business.

But over time, that cold detachment had begun to melt. He found himself seeking you out more often, stealing glances when you wasn’t looking, lingering in conversations that had nothing to do with the business. Yet, he remained silent, trapped by his pride and the fear that you could never feel the same.

It was a cold winter evening when everything changed.

The night was quiet, too quiet for Winterfell. The snowfall outside had turned the city into a white, silent expanse. Inside Stark Manor, a fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting long shadows across the walls. You curled up on one of the leather armchairs in the living room, a book resting in your lap. You’d found solace in reading since moving to Winterfell, a way to escape the loneliness that often crept in when Cregan was away.

Tonight, however, you couldn’t focus on the words. Your mind was elsewhere—on your husband.

Cregan Stark was a mystery to you, a man of few words and even fewer emotions. Their marriage had been more of a business transaction than anything else, a way to strengthen ties between their families. But despite his cold exterior, you had seen glimpses of something more—something tender hidden beneath the surface. You just didn’t know how to reach it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up as Cregan entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He was dressed in a dark suit, the fabric tailored to perfection, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Y/n,” he greeted you, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Cregan,” you replied, closing your book and placing it on the table beside you. “I didn’t expect you to be home so early.”

He walked over to the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flames. “There’s nothing more to be done tonight,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “And I wanted to see you.”

The admission caught you off guard. He rarely said anything so direct, so… vulnerable. You studied him, trying to read the expression on his face, but as usual, it was a blank slate. You stood up and walked over to him, your heart pounding in your chest. The heat from the fire warmed you as you stood beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating from his body.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers.

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense. “Do you regret it?”

You frowned, confused. “Regret what?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Our marriage. Do you regret marrying me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected him to ask something so personal, so raw.

“No,” you said after a moment, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it.”

Cregan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Why not?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Because I’ve come to care for you, Cregan. Despite everything—despite how we started—I care for you more than I ever thought I could.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of deception, but he found none. You were telling the truth, and it shook him to his core. He had always assumed you was with him out of duty, out of obligation. But to hear that you actually cared for him? That was something he hadn’t been prepared for.

He looked away, his jaw clenched. “You deserve more than what I’ve given you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve kept you at a distance, thinking it was what was best. But the truth is… I don’t know how to be a husband. I don’t know how to love.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm. “You do love, Cregan,” you said gently.

“You show it in the way you protect your family, in the way you’ve built this empire to keep us safe. You may not say it, but your actions speak louder than words.”

He looked down at your hand, feeling the warmth of your touch seep through his suit jacket. For so long, he had convinced himself that he was incapable of love, that his heart had frozen over in the bitter cold of Winterfell. But you had been slowly thawing it, chipping away at the ice until he could feel again.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve been a fool to keep you at arm’s length.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching for the man before you. “It’s not too late, Cregan,” you said softly. “We can still make this work. But you have to let me in.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected back at him. For the first time in a long time, Cregan felt hope. He placed his hand over your, pulling you closer.

“I love you, Y/n,” he confessed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, but I was too afraid to admit it. Too afraid to lose control.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion. “I love you too, Cregan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I promise I’ll do better,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I’ll be the husband you deserve.”

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his touch. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cregan leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the love and longing he had kept buried for so long. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back, pouring all of your love into that one moment.

When they finally pulled away, Cregan rested his forehead against your, his breathing ragged. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smiled, your heart filled with love and hope for the future. “We’ll figure this out together,” you promised, your voice steady and sure.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the warmth of the fire and their newfound love surrounding them. The city outside may have been cold and ruthless, but inside Stark Manor, there was nothing but warmth and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of emotions and newfound closeness. Cregan made good on his promise to be a better husband, spending more time with you and opening up to you in ways he never had before. He shared the burdens of his empire with you, letting you into his world and showing you the man behind the mask.

You, in turn, supported him every step of the way. You became his confidante, his partner, and his anchor in the storm. The more they shared, the stronger their bond grew, until the walls that had once separated them were nothing more than a distant memory.

But life in Winterfell was never simple. The Stark empire was powerful, but it was also constantly under threat. Rivals from the South, old enemies of the Stark family, were always looking for a weakness, a way to bring them down. And now that Cregan had let you into his heart, you had become his greatest vulnerability.

It was a crisp winter morning when that vulnerability was put to the test.

Cregan had been in meetings all day, discussing the latest threats to their territory. You had spent the morning in the study, catching up on some reading and preparing for a charity event they were hosting that evening. You were just finishing up when the phone rang, the shrill sound breaking

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“couple” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 317 words

 

Regulus walks through the door, toes off his shoes and walks into the living room. He stops in his tracks when he sees a ball of fluff curled up on one of the armchairs.

“James…?” He calls into the house; after no response he calls again, “James?”

James enters the living room a few moments later carrying two kittens. 

“James…?” Regulus asks as he raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, love?” James responds innocently.

Regulus raises both eyebrows with a questioning look.

“I got some kittens.” James tells him with a mix of pride and guilt.

“To keep?” Regulus asks, already knowing the answer.

“You always said you wanted a cat.” James says sweetly.

“Yes, one cat. Not three.”

James has a sheepish look on his face as he shifts from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact with Regulus.

“James…? How many cats are in this house?... James?”

“A couple…?” James says slowly.

“How many is a couple? Because a couple means two and I already see more than two cats.”  

“Umm… Seven.” James whispers as if Regulus won’t hear him.

“Seven cats?!?”

“They were so cute, and they were giving them away to good homes and we have a good home and they’re all siblings so I couldn’t separate them and they’re so adorable and you can’t make me take them back.” James explains in a rush, ending with a pout.

“Of course, I’m not going to make you take them back, what kind of person do you think I am? They’re adorable, we’re obviously keeping them.” Regulus tell him, “But seven cats, James?”  

“Well…” James says, but doesn’t seem to know what he was going to say.

Regulus just shakes his head, “You’re ridiculous.” He says with a chuckle. “Where are the other four cats?” He asks.

“Well…” James just looks guilty again.

“James?!”

“They’re really fast… but I’ll find them, I promise.”