#i hope his voice comes through here!!! he is such a pleasure to have in-game ok ;u;

[chlorinecake]

What do you think the enha legal line would react if by chance or by accident the other members touch readers tits? The reader being their gf obviously

I got this idea from your recent gang bang post and I was like damn

For ex yn is hee's gf and by accident jake touches her tits , or if you wanna make it spicy remove the accident part and make it as sluty as you can

If you want ofcourse

By the way I'm new here , on your blog so hoping for more talks!

𐙚 Cherry Blossoms | 18+ EN- REACTIONS

cw: jealous!bf enha 🙈, implied intimacy (so like, no explicit smut scenes), kissing, swearing, boob fondling/nipple play, hickeys, mentions of drinking, dry humping (?), kinda silly honestly, 400-500 words per member

이희승 ♱ Lee Heeseung — Heeseung didn't worry about leaving you and Jake alone because he trusted him with everything. Though, your boyfriend had barely been gone for a minute before Jake's hands got lost under your top, fingers toying with the hem of your sports bra as he lowered his voice to a purr. “Heeseung only focuses on his own pleasure… I bet he's never even touched you like this before, has he?," Jake smirked, causing you to shiver as his thumb lightly grazed your nipple, “It’s kinda cute, actually.”

“W-what is,” you asked, squirming from his hands that only followed your movements. “How sensitive you are,” he teased, adjusting your shirt so he could have better access to your chest. “Do you think Heeseung would mind if I added a few marks with his?” He said in between lightly sucking your tits, the wet sounds of his tongue making heat rush to your cheeks.

“J-Jake, if Heeseung catches us like this, you’re dead,” you threatened, running a hand through Jake’s hair as part of you wanted to push him away though another part compelled you to pull him closer.

Beep, beep, beep. The microwave chimed, but your boyfriend was no longer in the kitchen, having come back to ask if you and Jake wanted a drink with the popcorn he just made.

“What the fuck are you doing?!,” Heeseung yelled, marching up to Jake and pulling his shoulder back.

“I think the answer's pretty obvious, Sherlock,” Jake grinned, watching the way you covered yourself before him despite his swollen lips telling clearly of the actions that already took place.

Heeseung shook his head before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV, “you can go now, Jake. Movie night is OVER.”

“Dude, chill, you’re acting like I fucked her,” Jake teased, getting up from the couch and walking to the front door, putting on his shoes before leaving you two alone. You stood up from the couch before Heeseung waved his finger, “Nuh uh, sit,” he ordered, plopping on the couch beside you and pulling you into his lap, cradling you.

You felt as his hands groped around your neck, gently squeezing before releasing the pressure, his eyes softening in the process. "H-Heeseung," you stuttered at the sudden warmth growing at your core, “aren’t you upset?”

“Upset? Just a little... maybe even a lot... but not with Jake," he whispered in a husk voice, cold hands tiptoeing down your back before grinding your hips against him, broken moans escaping your lips as the moment only escalated from there.

박종성 ♱ Park Jongseong — You and your boyfriend Jay had just gotten back from your 2-day long road trip together, filled with campfires, hiking, and romantic moments in the lake. You were honestly feeling a little tense after the trip, so Jay offered to help you out by massaging your shoulders.

Kissing you on the cheek, he sat you down in a gaming chair that he borrowed from one of the members in your shared bedroom. “Now, I want you to relax for me, okay?,” he whispered, gently closing your eyes with his fingertips, “I’ll be right back with the massage oil.”

You didn’t hear Jay’s footsteps leave the room but you heard when he came back, using his thumbs to dig circles into the tender area of your shoulder. Naturally, you let out a few lewd sounds from his actions, breath hitching in your chest as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, sliding down to grope your boobs. You hummed like a kitten at his touch, stroking his hands and throwing your head back in the process.

That’s when you heard a second pair of footsteps come in, a lot angrier than the first, followed by the sound of said oil clashing with the floor. You opened your eyes at the sound to realize it was none other than your boyfriend Jay, blood practically boiling at the sight of you with Sunoo’s hands cradling your chest. “Oh my God!” You yelped in shock, jumping from the chair to cover yourself. You almost couldn’t believe that it was Sunoo touching you the whole time, a phony expression of shock displayed on his face.

“You should go, Sunoo,” Jay said coldly, balling his fists.

“Oh- my apologies, Jay-hyung. Her boobs were just so soft, I didn’t even realize I was touching them,” Sunoo shrugged, not budging in his stance.

“What part don’t you understand about getting the fuck out of here?” Jay continued, grabbing Sunoo by the shoulder and leading him out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Jay-"

“I can’t believe you couldn’t recognize those weren’t my hands,” Jay shook his head playfully, pulling you closer before picking you up and laying you on the bed.

“My eyes were closed, Jay,” you giggled, feeling his hands knead your thighs as he left featherlight kisses all over your neck that soon escalated into much more passionate kisses.

“I can tell you’re still a little tense, though,” Jay whispered seductively, fingers ghosting over the center of your panties as he moved to play with your drawstring, releasing it with a sting. "Still need my help?"

Cupping his face in your hand, you kissed him on the lips this time, eyes already hazy from his simple touches as you nodded at his words.

To this day you both have no idea what compelled Sunoo to do that...

심재윤 ♱ Sim Jaeyun — Tonight was the night of Jake's big winter party, and you decided to wear something revealing to get his attention. Though, unfortunately, your boyfriend wasn't as impressed as you anticipated him to be.

You snuck off somewhere to get a drink while Jake continued to chat things up with his friends, just to get your mind off things. You didn’t expect to see Heeseung hanging around the bar, so you decided to cover your chest with the thin shawl you brought with you.

“Trouble in paradise?" Heeseung teased, passing you one of the red party cups.

"Is it really that obvious?," you frowned, filling your cup up with juice from the punch bowl that was definitely spiked.

"Hmm. Not really, but you never dress like this," Heeseung went on, shamelessly checking you out through his doe-eyes, "Maybe you should try this style more often."

"Yeah... maybe," you pouted, glancing at Jake from a distance. Sure, it was nice to have a boyfriend who didn’t only want you for your body, but naturally, you wanted to spice things up in your relationship.

“Pfft,” Heeseung scoffed, talking another sip from his drink before placing it down. “I mean, I respect that you have a boyfriend… kind of… but you're obviously not gonna get his attention on your own," he said, grabbing each end of your shawl before sliding it to your waist, pulling you closer to him, "I can fix that if you like."

You smacked his shoulder playfully, part of you actually considering his offer, “Get a grip, would ya? I think you’ve had too much to drink for the night,” you chuckled, feeling his hands snake around your hips.

“Have I ever told you how pretty your smile is?” he said, looking you in the eyes now, “it matches your tits perfectly,” he grinned, hand ghosting over your chest before he asked, “can I touch them?”

“You must be out of your mind,” Jake interrupted, startling the both of you as he pulled you into his side, “Baby, are you okay?”

“She’s fineee…” Heeseung answered for you, a satisfied expression plastered over his face as he walked away, leaving you two alone.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you sighed, squeezing his hand as you exhaled the tension building up within you, “I didn't mean for Heeseung to act that way... I just wanted your attentio-”

“And now you’ve got it,” he interrupted your words, pulling you into him by your lower back before kissing your lips, humming at the contact.

"Let's take this somewhere more private, yeah? Unless you can't wait any longer."

박성훈 ♱ Park Sunghoon — Your overly-protective boyfriend decided to take you to the gym with him after you almost got into a fight outside of the mall last week.

It was for a stupid reason, really.

You overheard some girls talking shit about you and upon calling them out for it, things got a little physical.

“You know I could’ve taken both of those girls on my own, right?” You tried reassuring him, not feeling up to join him at the gym today, “And besides, we haven’t hung out in forever. Can’t we just do something else for the day?”

Sunghoon chuckled at the pout you wore on your face, offering his hand to help you out of the car as he carried both your gym bags, “I just wanna show you a few things, and then we’ll hang out later, okay? I promise.”

Sulking all the way into the fitness building, you didn’t expect to see one of Sunghoon’s friends there, striking at a punching bag with all his might.

“Oh- Jay’s here!” Your boyfriend chirped, “He used to volunteer at a women’s self defense class. Maybe he can help us out today,” he continued, jogging over with your hand in his.

Taking out his headphones, Jay stuck out a hand out to greet both of you. “Hey, guys. Having a little gym date, huh?”

“Sort of. ____ almost got into a fight a last week, and I just wanna make sure she knows how to defend herself,” Sunghoon said, making you roll your eyes.

One reply led to another, and Jay offered to coach you for a bit, the two of you hopping in the boxing ring together with gloves and sweatbands on. Meanwhile, Sunghoon stood on the sidelines, occasionally taking pictures of you while he pretended to referee.

“C’mon, ____, you won’t hurt me,” Jay taunted, tiring you out as he dodged all of your attacks, “Punch like you mean it!”

Sunghoon was cheering you on, which made you feel confident enough to try something you saw in an action movie once. Running into Jay, you knocked him out of balance, landed on his lap as you prepared to jab him right in the face.

That was when you felt his hands cupping your chest as an attempt to push you away.

The sight was terrible, honestly, and looked a lot like a sex position. And unfortunately, Sunghoon got the whole thing on video.

Stepping into the ring, your boyfriend helped you get off of Jay, who immediately started apologizing.

“Bro, I’m really sorry about that, you know it wasn’t my intention to get that physical,” Jay rambled, face slightly turning pale in shock.

“It’s alright, man. But if it ever happens again, you can at least try and make it entertaining for me,” Sunghoon teased.

“THIS is how you properly touch a woman,” he smirked, showing off his fangs as leaned you against the rope cage, playing with your boobs like stress balls.

“Hoon, you CLOWN! That tickles,” you giggled uncontrollably, not even realizing how Jay was dying of laughter in the corner of it all.

김선우 ♱ Kim Sunoo — It randomly started to rain outside upon you and Sunoo already getting dressed for your picnic date together. Instead, you decided to stay home and play board games with each other, inviting Jungwon who was also stuck inside for the day to join you two. You three started off with a few games of Uno before Sunoo suggested a round of truth or dare.

“I choose truth,” Sunoo smiled, crossing his legs to sit. “Okay, okay,” Jungwon began, munching on a few pretzels from the snack bowl, “what’s your favorite thing about ____?”

A pink hue rushed to your boyfriends cheeks at the question, which made you and Jungwon laugh until Sunoo finally built up the courage to answer. “Well... to be honest with you, I’d have to say her tits.”

You couldn’t believe the words that just came from his mouth. Now it was your turn to feel embarrassed. “Sunooooo," you cringed, bringing your legs to your chest and burying your face in your knees.

“What? It’s true!" He continued, nudging your leg playfully, "It’s the only part of you that the boys never get to see. It’s only for me,” he smiled, making your heart beat a little faster.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in energy before suggesting a new game, “Hmmm... I say we play Twister now!”

The game started off easy, with you and Jungwon going first so Sunoo could spin the color board. One move led to another before Jungwon accidentally slipped on the plastic game mat, falling hands-first onto your boobs.

You let out a sound that easily could’ve been mistaken as a moan, but Jungwon just stayed there frozen, straddling you with his hands groping your chest.

“Uh-uhh, I-I’m… sorry,” Jungwon shrieked with embarrassment, finally backing away from you, but it was already too late.

Sunoo was pissed. “____, why didn’t you do something?!” “Like what?” “I... I don’t know, slap him in his stupid face for touching what isn’t his?”

“Sunoo-hyung, it was an acciden-”

“Be quiet, Jungwon!” your boyfriend spat coldly, getting up from the floor before marching up to his room. “Sunoo, wait!” You called out, following after him all the way to his bed where he laid on his back.

“You didn’t move fast enough, ____,” Sunoo mumbled under his breath, arms crossed over his stomach, “it made me think that you wanted it.”

You sat next to him, stroking his thigh as you spoke, “No, baby… I was just shocked," you admitted.

“That still doesn’t take back what happened, though,” he pouted as you reached under his shirt, tracing lazy shapes on his abs before inching your fingers closer to the hem of his pants, smiling at the way he shivered through it all.

“Let me make it up to you, then... I’m all yours, now.”

양정원 ♱ Yang Jungwon — Thanks to your period, you’d been feeling extra horny without Jungwon being able to please you like usual. So, Sunghoon invited himself to keep you company while Jungwon took a shower after his routine evening jog around your neighborhood. The two of you were casually making conversation about your period symptoms on the living room couch when you noticed how Sunghoon’s eyes kept falling to your chest.

“They're pretty swollen, huh?” He purred, groping your chest with his veiny yet delicate hands.

You unintentionally moaned at the feeling, your arms almost forgetting how to work as he applied more pressure, thoroughly amused by your reactions.

“S-Sunghoon, stop that!,” you whined as he laid you on your back, straddling your hips as he continued to massage your tits. “What, are they tender, too?” He asked mischievously, inching closer to your neck before grazing your skin with his fangs, “because I know how to be gentle."

All you could do was whine beneath him, feeling a little guilty about letting your hormones get the best of you.

That’s when Jungwon came out of the shower, steam roaming behind him as he shook the access water from his hair, making his way to the living room.

“Hey, babe, I ran you a bath while I was in there…” he stopped mid-sentence, feline eyes narrowing at the sight before him. Sunghoon didn’t seem to flinch in Jungwon’s presence, hands still resting on your body as he started to speak, “How was your shower, Jungwon?”

“Fine,” your boyfriend replied coldly, waking up to the couch before snatching you by the wrist, pulling you away from him, “Let's hurry, ____, before the water gets cold.”

As soon as you got into the bathroom, Jungwon locked the door, pining you against the wall, “What was that all about, hmm?” He asked, caging you with one arm as he slowly unbuttoned the flannel you wore.

His flannel.

“Since when do you like guys like Sunghoon-hyung?”

“I-I don't,” you nearly whispered, failing to look him in the eyes after what you let happen.

Jungwon’s cold hands grazed your waist as the flannel fell from your shoulders, your bra making a clicking sound after he unbuttoned it as well.

“So why’d you let him touch you the way I touch you? Be honest with me,” He urged with a sweet yet thick voice, almost like honey.

“Because... I... I wanted to feel good,” you admitted, a chuckle slipping from your boyfriends throat at your words before he pressed the softest kiss to your lips, whispering within the contact.

“Take off the rest or your clothes and get in the tub, silly.”

 ❀ Hi hi, anonie and wlcm to the blog !! Tysm for requesting this piece ~ Ik this ask was specifically for something a little more slutty, but I have another ask in my inbox that’s similar to this, so I’m saving the intense stuff for that one huhu !!

 ❀ Make sure to check out my enhypen bookshelf for more fun reads ~

 ❀ [Permanent] Taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @nikisdubblchococake @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33

[amongemeraldclouds]

chasing highs

No plot, just smut. You're welcome.

Mattheo x Lorenzo x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, drug use, threes*me, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), piv, unprotected sex, slight bondage, blindfolding, cursing, daddy kink, praise kink, no use of y/n. Characters are aged up.

Credit: Enzo and Matt artwork by the talented @finalgirllx ♡ The tie was doing something to me so it made it in the story.

✿ Masterlist | 2.6k words

The breeze carries the trail of smoke, curtains swaying in its wake as glowing embers crumble onto the soot stained carpet of Mattheo’s dorm. Curly hair falls carelessly from his forehead as he leans back to blow one final puff, indulging in the wave of relaxation that settles in his bones. Outside, the stars glitter stubbornly. 

“My turn,” you reach out to Mattheo, trying to snatch the joint from between his fingers. Instead he holds it above him, out of reach. “Come get it,” he taunts.

You scrunch your face, annoyed by another one of his little games. Fueled by spite and sheer determination, you move closer and climb on his seated figure on the floor, rising to claim your prize.

Instead, your spite and sheer determination sends you toppling over Mattheo and his body cushions your fall. Heat rises to your cheeks when you look up to find his face just inches from yours. You drink in his long lashes and the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Beneath you, you savor the solid warmth of his body flush against yours and your breath catches when you feel his blood rush below. His chest rumbles out a seductive laugh as his free hand moves to your waist, shooting electric sparks through you. “We really need to stop finding ourselves in this position,” he breathes.

“It was just one time,” you bite back, heat pooling down your core at the memory of how good he felt inside you, scratches carved across his back and moans lost in his hungry kisses.

It may have just been one time, but it was hours of rediscovering pleasure and releasing inhibitions like never before. It was with Mattheo after all, the boy who always challenged you to go beyond your comfort zone while supporting you the entire time so it never felt as scary as it should have been. It didn’t hurt that you were also high when it happened.

“Salazar,” Enzo curses, rising from his spot on the floor to grab the joint that hangs dangerously close to the carpet. “You’ll burn this whole place down without me,” he accuses, shaking his head. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a hit in an attempt to relax.

A thought occurs to him just as he exhales the smoke. “Wait, you two had fun without me?” Hurt and betrayal dance across his features as guilt sinks into your chest. Growing up, you’ve done everything from learning magic to stirring up trouble together as a trio.

“It just happened,” you brush off nonchalantly, hoping he’d let it slide. Your attempts to move off Mattheo is seized by his strong grip around your waist. You try to ignore the way his breath hitches as you squirm in protest, unintentionally grinding against him. “Mattheo, let me go,” you tap his shoulder. 

“Want to make it up to Enzo, dear?” He asks in a low voice. Enzo gulps at Mattheo’s words, anticipation rising from deep within him.

“Here, right now?” You ask incredulously, fighting the urge to rub your thighs together to soothe your aching core.

“Stop pretending,” he commands. “I bet if we touch your cunt right now, you’d be dripping all over my fingers.” Sometimes it’s difficult to be Mattheo’s best friend when he knows you all too well.

You relent, guilt mixing with desire, and bury your head in the crook of his neck in surrender. His grip on you softens, arms pulling you closer as if this is nothing but a sweet, innocent hug. “That’s my girl,” he says in your ear.

“Okay daddy,” you whisper in response. “Fuck,” he groans appreciatively as he rises, taking you with him.

“Kneel for daddy, princess,” he commands, pinning your arms behind your back as he faces you towards Enzo, whose jaw is slack in disbelief.

“Want to show Enzo just how much of a slut you are?” He challenges as he looms behind you, keeping your hands pinned.

You look into Enzo’s brown eyes and take in the curiosity and longing in his features as he watches you intently. “I’ll be a good girl for you tonight,” you promise. Mattheo hasn’t even touched your clothes yet you feel Enzo already undressing you with his eyes.

Mattheo runs his free hand along the side of your face, feeling each curve as he moves from your neck, down to your shoulder, drawing gooseflesh as he travels lower down to your waist.

The room falls quiet until all you hear are your shallow breaths. Electricity hums in the air as Mattheo unbuttons your blouse, each pop emphasized in the silence. Enzo’s eyes darken, following the movement downwards, committing your figure to memory. Fuck you’re so sexy, Enzo thinks.

Sparks bloom where Mattheo’s fingers graze your bare skin and next thing you know, your arms are free as he slips off your blouse and unclasps your bra, leaving you in just your skirt and underwear.

You shiver in the evening chill, but Mattheo is quick to bring his body against yours, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other squeezes your breast. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, his touch both tender and harsh.

“Come here, Enzo. Our girl is ready for you,” he encourages.

Enzo walks across the room tentatively and asks you, “are you sure?”

“I want you, Enzo,” you affirm, already imagining how good he would taste and feel against your body, how well he would fit inside you.

He moves with more certainty this time, taking a drag to help calm his nerves. “Me too,” you tell him, expecting him to hand over the joint. Instead, he brings his lips to yours and exhales directly into your mouth. You close your eyes as you welcome the smoke.

“Have more, princess,” Mattheo says as he grabs the joint from Enzo and takes a long drag. You open your mouth for him and he passes the smoke to you. You lean back and rest your head on Mattheo’s shoulder as a wave of calm settles into your system and your senses come alive.

Enzo closes the distance and brings his lips to yours, kissing you this time. It starts out soft and tentative, as sweet as Enzo himself. But when you bring your fingers to his hair and pull him closer, all trace of politeness is smeared off. He bites your lower lip and explores your mouth with his tongue, gliding his hands across curve of your waist, pinning you between him and Mattheo.

You palm Enzo’s erection in response, rubbing his twitching cock against his trousers, and enjoy the vibration of his moan against your lips. You’re keenly aware of the fast rise and fall of Enzo’s chest while Mattheo takes one last drag before he snuffs out the blunt and returns his full attention to you.

Pushing your hair back, Mattheo plants gentle kisses on your neck and your toes curl. The dance between him being gentle and rough leaves you breathless for you couldn’t predict what’s coming next.

“Do you trust me, princess?” He asks, bringing his lips close to your ear, gently sucking at your earlobe. Enzo sends a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, freeing your mouth to answer.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimper.

“What’s our safe word?”

“Scarlet,” you confirm, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

“Good girl.” You hear a rush of fabric as Mattheo removes his tie and uses it to bind your arms behind you. He gestures Enzo to hand over his before turning back to you. “Close your eyes princess, we’ll take good care of you.”

You do as you’re told, excitement humming within you when the world goes dark as Mattheo uses Enzo’s tie to blindfold you. “You’re going to feel real good,” Mattheo reassures you, securing the tie at the back of your head. He plants a chaste kiss on your cheek. He really needs to stop that, you think, as you feel both like a princess about to get spoiled and a whore bound and kneeling, eager to please your best friends.

Having lost your vision, you feel your other senses expand to compensate for it, further fueled by the drug-induced haze. You’re electrified by Mattheo’s shallow breaths against your skin and find yourself arching your back as Enzo kisses your breast, licking and leaving playful bites. 

Mattheo’s fingers travel back down your lower body and you stop breathing when he reaches under your skirt, fingers teasing you through your panties. “Fuck, so wet for us,” he hums in approval as he moves the thin fabric aside to spread your slick all over your folds. Mattheo rubs slow lazy circles around your clit and Enzo kisses you again to capture your whimpers.

“Enzo, show her how you’re going to fill her up,” Mattheo encourages and a needy groan leaves your lips when you feel Enzo’s fingers graze your skirt, moving to your heated core. You nearly lose your balance when he rubs your slit before plunging his fingers inside you, but you find your body held upright between the two boys.

“Need to see how much of a slut you are,” Mattheo commands.

At his words, you move your hips against their hand, using their fingers to rub you exactly where you needed them. You can’t help the way your legs spread further apart for them, giving them more access to you as your juices drip onto the carpet. “So hungry,” Enzo breathes, pleasantly surprised to discover this side to you. Euphoria overrides your senses, making a moaning mess out of you.

“Daddy, I want to cum,” you ask Mattheo for permission.

“Not yet, baby,” he says, increasing his pace as Enzo curls his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside you. His free hand moves up to squeeze your breast, sending jolts of electricity through you.

You grunt in frustration and press your fingernails to your palm trying to stay in control, carving crescent shaped moons on your skin. “Sshh, I know princess, just a bit more,” Mattheo whispers.

It’s torture and heaven at the same time, your cunt growing more and more sensitive against their frenzied touch. “Please, fuck—” you beg as you find yourself teetering on the edge.

“Okay, princess. Show us how good we make you feel.” You cry out and come undone at Mattheo’s words, overwhelm sending you writhing against them as they continue their relentless pace, drawing out every last wave of pleasure.

You collapse against Enzo’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “You’re amazing,” you hear Enzo praise you as he gently strokes your hair.

“Need to know how you taste,” you beg once you feel yourself calm down. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Mattheo grabs your waist and lets you rest against him so Enzo can remove his clothes. His hand returns to your sensitive slit, fingers playing with your folds.

“Thank you, daddy,” you tell Mattheo and he covers your mouth in a hungry kiss. Beside you, you hear Enzo unbuckling his trousers, zipping it down to free his hard length.

Your centre of gravity shifts when Mattheo releases you and you feel Enzo fisting his hand through your hair, guiding you towards him. You open your mouth and close your lips around his cock, letting him thrust into you.

You try to stroke him but the restraints dig into your arms and you’re reminded again just how much you’re at their mercy. Instead, you roll your tongue against him and Enzo gasps at the euphoric jolt it sends. “You’re so pretty like this,” Enzo groans as he starts moving at a steady pace. 

You rub your thighs together in anticipation when you hear Mattheo unzip his trousers. “Be a good girl for daddy,” he commands as he unties the restraints around your arms. He gently rubs them, soothing the discomfort away before he plants gentle kisses on the marks it left around your wrists.

He lifts you from your kneeling position to all fours and Enzo supports your hands before entering your hungry mouth again. You moan against Enzo’s cock when you feel Mattheo grip your hips as he slides his tip across your cunt and enters you from behind.

You clamp down against him and he moves slowly at first, letting yourself adjust to his length. Soon enough, he’s dripping with your arousal and he starts moving faster, the delicious friction building pressure at the base of your stomach. Upon impact, you find yourself choking against Enzo’s cock and your eyes water at the repeated contact. You remind yourself to breathe.

“Fuck, such a good slut,” Mattheo praises. “You’re taking us so well,” Enzo hums in approval. Desperate, filthy noises escape your lips in response, muffled by Enzo’s cock. The vibrations it creates against Enzo sends him over the edge as he releases a guttural moan and you relish the warm feeling of his salty cum in your mouth.

“You like how I taste, love?” Enzo asks, running his thumb across your swollen lip to push his spilled seed back to your mouth and you suck on it. At the same time Mattheo commands, “be a good girl and swallow his load.” You whimper, taking every last drop down your throat, too cock drunk to use your words.

Your focus returns to Mattheo as he takes on a vicious pace, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You cry out, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your release. “That’s it,” Mattheo encourages, feeling the familiar way you clench around him just before you unravel. “Cum for daddy,” he commands, each word emphasized by a brutal thrust into your dripping pussy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as you quiver against Mattheo’s cock. Wave after wave of pleasure overtakes you as he continues his persistent intoxicating thrusts.

It feels even better when he unloads in you. “Take it all baby, see how crazy you make me,” he coos into your ear in between filthy moans as he comes undone and you feel hot liquid drip down your leg. After taking a second to catch his breath, he wraps his arm around you, guiding you upright again.

You feel his hands behind your head as he unties the blindfold. While your eyes adjust back to the room and the starlit sky beyond the window, Mattheo brings his arms back around you, pulling you in for a hug. “You were so good,” he praises, burying his head in your shoulder. You reach back and massage his curls, enjoying how well you fit against each other.

You hum in pleasure as the events sink in. “You two spoil me too much.”

You smile at Enzo when he approaches you and kisses your lips playfully. He shakes his head in disbelief, “we’ve wasted so much time when we could have been doing this much longer.” Mattheo chuckles in agreement, his warm breath on your neck sending butterflies to your stomach.

He plants one final kiss on your cheek before getting up to dress himself. “And now I’m hungry, I’m going to grab some food,” he says nonchalantly, back to his usual self.

“Get some for us too,” Enzo adds.

He looks back with his signature smirk, “we’ll see.” You scoff at his response, knowing full well he will return with more food than any of you could eat.

As soon as Mattheo closes the door, you smirk at Enzo. “You know, that thing you said about lost time?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yeah?” He replies with a wicked grin.

“We can always make up for it,” you grab Enzo’s arm, leading him towards the bed. “Come on, I still need to know how you feel inside me.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: Why does my warning list get more and more unhinged the more smut I write?

My fics are usually around 1k words because I start losing my attention span after that. This is actually the longest I’ve done so far at 2.6k words, but I feel like I could’ve kept it going haha. Perhaps I’ll write another threes*me in the future. Stay tuned and stay feral, friends!

[pearlzier]

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom. 

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz

[hysteria-things]

CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE LITERALLY ANYTHING FOR NATE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 (preferably smut) BUT IM LITERALLY BEGGING PLEASE (no rush💗💗 love ur work)

SINFUL DESIRES (part one)

read part two here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it feels like every day there’s a blowout between you and nate. however, something changes when all of a sudden he’s knocking at your bedroom window.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, teasing, some praise/degradation, pet names (pretty), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy!), stomach bulge, possessiveness, cream pie, ROUGHHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,172

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is low key toxic LMAO but it’s okay cause nate’s a cutie patootie.

thank you anon! hope you like it❤️

for some reason when i listened to this song it make me think of this fic, even though i would never picture him like this at all😭

tap tap tap.

“you cannot be fucking serious.” you curse softly, placing your phone on the bed as you get up and head over to the window.

it’s no secret that you hate nathan doe, and he hates you too.

your parents are close with his, but nate has always been a little shit.

ever since you two were kids, he’d pick on you. you’d understand that it was friendly banter since he’s, y’know; a boy. boys do that.

but it was never like that with him.

you unlock your window and open it, staring at the boy squatting on your roof. he’s in a t-shirt and gray sweats, his hair damp from showering.

“are you kidding right now, nate?”

“can i come in?” he asks, already making his way through your window.

you roll your eyes. “i mean, you already are.”

he stands in the middle of your room with his hands in his pockets, looking around. “what do you want?” you groan.

he snaps his head toward you. “what? can an old friend not visit?”

“you hate me.”

he raises his eyebrows and glances down your body. “i didn’t see you at the game today.”

“i’d rather die than go to a lacrosse match,” you say. you guys are standing across from each other, and it’s weirdly comforting. you two would be trying to fight right now, but even if you were you’d be too tired to.

“what do you want, nate?” you repeat, this time more harshly.

“why do you always have a fucking attitude?” he snaps.

there it is.

you scoff. “stop with this nice act. i shouldn’t have even let you in.”

“yet, you did!” he says with a high voice, taking his finger and pointing upward.

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you squint your eyes at the boy. you should’ve pushed him off of your roof when you had the chance.

“i’d watch that mouth if i were you, y/l/n.” he now points at you. “it can get you into big trouble.”

your next two words were meant to be in your head. “make m—”

in one stride, nate pulls you in by the throat and smashes his lips on yours. you would think you’d want to pull away but no. you kiss back with hunger.

he pushes you against your bedroom door, not breaking the kiss as he lifts the bottom of your band tee to push his fingers inside your underwear.

he pulls away to make eye contact with you as he starts to rub your embarrassingly wet clit with his fingers. he smirks when he realizes this is all from him.

you fight every fiber in your body to not give him the satisfaction of giving you pleasure. not even a lip bite or a buck of the hips, even though you want to.

so. fucking. bad.

he continues to rub at a decent pace. “why so quiet now? cats got your tongue, pretty?”

“don’t call me that, asshole.” you spit back. “i hate you.”

he chuckles under his breath. “seems like it.” he mocks.

the heaving of your chest gets faster when you feel the knot start to form in the pit of your stomach. you curl your hands into fists that are on your sides when you feel wetness drip down your inner thighs. nate scans your face until he figures out what just happened. “came already? my fingers weren’t even inside you. that’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“shut. up,” you say through gritted teeth.

you look down at his sweats without thinking, seeing the imprint of his boner as clear as day. he leans to your ear and takes his hands out.

“feel how hard it is, pretty?” he jolts his hips into your clothed pussy. “it’s all because of you. i can never stop thinking about you, you know that? you’re engraved in my mind and i hate you for it. i always get off to what you’ll look like wrapped around my cock.”

your bottom lip quivers from his words. you don’t know what to say; the only thing you can think about is what you need. you need him.

he starts sucking a mark into your neck while untying his pants and pulling them past his thighs.

he lifts you, your legs dangling at his sides. he moves your panties to the side and starts to enter you slowly.

you pinch your lips together when you feel him all inside of you.

he groans at the feeling. “better than i’ve imagined.”

his thrusts start small but he gradually gets faster to the point where he pulls back and slams back in. you bite back your moan.

“so stubborn,” he whispers, taking your bottom lip out from your teeth with his thumb.

one thing to keep in mind is that your parents are sleeping just across the way, but you can’t seem to hold it in any longer.

don’t do it… don’t do it… don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit.

“oh, god, nathan!” you cry out, immediately covering your mouth.

“there she is,” he says. he somehow makes himself go deeper.

“fuck, nate. fuck!” your noises are muffled by your hand.

you look over his shoulder at the window, realizing you never closed it. even though your room is on the second floor, people can still see and hear you.

nate turns his head to see where you are looking at and smirks. he takes your hand off of your mouth.

“don’t hide your sounds. i want everybody to know who makes you feel this good.”

you whimper and look down, seeing how he fills you from the bulge in your tummy with the movement of his thrusts. your mouth drops slightly at the sight. “see how well i fill you up, pretty? see how good you take my cock?”

you whimper again and grip his shoulders, dragging your nails down his upper back. “how long has it been since you’ve been fucked this good?”

“a l-long time.” you moan in pleasure as he hits that spot inside you. “right there, right there! please don’t stop.”

“whose is it, y/n?” he starts. “whose pussy is this?”

“y-yours, nate. it’s all yours.” you cry out. “i need to cum. please let me cum for you.”

you keep blabbing out nonsense as he fucks the living daylights out of you. “gonna cum inside this sweet cunt so you know it’s mine. you’re all mine, pretty. don’t ever forget it, yeah?”

“yes. yes!” you repeat. “i’m all yours. all yours, nathan.”

he kisses you as he spills every drop inside of you. you soon after gush around his dick, legs shaking and toes curling as you do so.

he sets you down and holds you by the waist so you don’t stumble over from all of the stimulation. he holds you in a tight hug and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

then, the light in the hallway flicks on and you hear footsteps.

“y/n!” your dad bellows. “what the fuck is going on in there?!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby

[undertheorangetree]

Competition

Summary- Aemond is a big fan of healthy competition.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Modern AU. Mutual edging. Handjob. Fingering. Blowjob. Surprisingly fluffy?? Straight up porn.

Author's Note- I wrote this instead of studying for my midterm lmao. This was a request and therefore a tumblr special so I'm posting the full story here below the cut :)

Usually, she finds the competitive nature of her relationship funny.

Aemond has always been competitive. Whether it was a board game amongst friends or trivia night at the pub or something as simple as an arm wrestle, he loved to win. Most of the time, she found the trait endearing and knew it was a habit she shared, especially when he was there to egg her on.

But it is at times like this she thinks perhaps his need for competition has gotten out of hand. Laying naked on their shared bed, Aemond on his knees beside her with his hand between her legs, two fingers pumping in and out of her ceaselessly. Her hand is wrapped around his cock, doing her best to match his pace even while the pleasure his hand is wringing from her licks up her spine, leaving her dizzy and half boneless. He had gotten it into his head that even this had to be a competition, that whoever forced the other to beg to come first would be declared the winner. She doesn't even remember what they're playing for, not now, but she does know that losing is not an option.

Already, they’ve denied each other twice, pulling the other away in their attempt to win. Despite the desperation that is sitting heavy in her gut, her cunt already hyper sensitive and the feeling only getting worse, she can’t make herself look away from Aemond’s face. His eyes are half lidded, the pupil in his real eye blown wide and turning the blue near black, chest heaving with every breath. His hips buck into her hand weakly, matching her strokes as if he wants nothing more than to let the bliss of it pull him under, his need to win the only thing holding him back. She’ll never get tired of that look, the way his features have gone soft and pliant as pleasure runs through him. She wants to immortalize it, stamp it in her mind’s eye and look at it forever.

She knows she looks just as desperate as he does, legs shaking as she feels her orgasm racing toward her. He keeps a steady pace, the sound of her cunt all but echoing through the room while his thumb circles her clit. It’s almost insulting, how well he is working her up even while she does the same to him. She had half hoped that the pleasure running through him would be some kind of distraction but he seems laser focused, staring between her legs as if he never wants to look away. And she's so close. She can feel it right there, knows that if he keeps going she'll fall over the edge, but just as her orgasm is about to run over her, she knocks his hand away. A desperate whine leaves her, hips bucking up to chase his hand despite having been the one to push it away, and she hears him let out a low groan, his wet fingers closing around her knee.

"Fuck, look at you." His other hand comes up to brush across her tits as if he can't stand the thought of not touching her, catching her nipple between his fingers. She jerks, knowing that was more calculated than it was loving, and slaps his hand away irritably. It doesn’t deter him. "You can give up any time you want, baby, just say the word."

Though she's breathless, frustration and disappointment churning in her gut, she knows he hears the petulance in her voice when she says, "Same goes for you, baby."

He grins, hand falling back between her legs again to play with her clit. There's a smugness there she doesn't like, as if he's sure that she will be the one to beg first, and she decides to wipe the arrogance from his face. Turning slightly, she shuffles a little closer, licking the weeping tip of his cock and before sucking the head into her mouth, fist still pumping at the base. She looks up at him with big doe eyes, trying to look as innocent as she can with his cock in her mouth, and very nearly grins at what she sees.

The effect it has on him is almost immediate. His stomach tenses, mouth dropping open and hand going momentarily still as he watches her, black swallowing the blue of his eye whole. She takes full advantage of his distraction, taking him into her mouth a little deeper and hollowing her cheeks. She knows him, knows every mannerism he has just before he falls apart, and she knows from the look on his face and the way he starts thrusting helplessly into her mouth that he's half a second away from finishing.

Unfortunately, he notices it too and she feels his hand in her hair, tugging her gently off his cock with a frustrated groan. A thin cord of spit connects her to him and he lets out an almost pitiful moan at the sight of it, bringing a grin to her face.

He almost sounds as though he's whining as he says, "You're cheating. Don't cheat."

She tilts her head as she takes him back in hand, reveling in the whimper he lets out. "Why? 'Cause you're gonna come?"

"Because I can't put my mouth on you. S'not fair."

She feels her grin broaden. "And we both know how much you like putting your mouth on me."

He very nearly growls at that before all but tackling her to the bed, forcing her onto her back once more. He kisses her hard, almost punishingly, and she moans into his mouth, both hands coming up to capture his face in her hands. She’s happy for the reprieve, the want burning between her legs too distracting, and takes her time kissing him, in feeling his lips pressing against her own.

"You're such a brat," he mutters against her mouth and she laughs, nipping at his bottom lip to further prove his point. His hand falls to spank her lightly in retaliation, making her jolt again before her own hand drops to find revenge in another way.

It takes him less than a second to follow suit, his fingers running through her to collect the arousal that’s gathered there before pushing a finger back inside her, crooking it up immediately to rub against the spot he knows makes her squirm. They’re both on their sides now and she slings her leg over his hip in an attempt to get more comfortable, still kissing him in the hopes that it will be enough to distract her from falling apart. It does little to help, the pleasure rolling to a boiling point in her belly. In any other circumstance, she would be grateful knowing that her boyfriend knew exactly how to touch her, how to work her up so perfectly, but now she knows that it will be her downfall unless she takes matters into her own hands.

Her mouth drops open, a moan escaping her when he begins circling her clit again, fast enough that her whole body shudders. Knowing now that she is sure to lose should he keep that up, she speeds up her hand in an attempt to bring him over the edge before her. She runs her thumb along the head of his cock, stroking at him faster, and fights the urge to giggle when he pulls away to moan, his head dropping to rest against her shoulder. His lips drag along the skin there, leaving lightning bolts of want in his wake, and her free hand comes up to twist in his hair, lifting herself up slightly.

“Please let me make you come,” she breathes near his ear, biting her lip when he moans faintly in response to it. “You look so pretty when you do. Just want to make you feel good, baby, please.”

She grinds down into his hand subconsciously, rolling her hips in her desperate need for more, and revels in the groan he lets out. She can feel herself clenching around nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her, but she refuses to succumb to her want now. Once she wins, she will gladly keep him in this bed all night and let him do whatever he wants to her. But before then, she wants to watch him fall apart.

“C’mon. Be a good boy for me.”

That does it. He lets out another whiney sound, this one half a moan, as his brows knit together, bucking his hips up into her hand. She strokes at him quickly, once, twice, until he spills himself over her fist with another moan, thrusts stuttering as he finishes.

Though his hand stalled while he came, he picks up where he left off the moment he has recovered, not giving her any time to mourn the loss of her fading orgasm. His fingers comes back up to her clit, circling it as hard and fast as she can handle and pulling a yelp from her. His free hand falls to the leg that still rests across his hip, holding her in place as he rubs at her faster and faster, that familiar coil in the pit of her stomach snapping almost as quickly as it begins to form. She writhes beside him as her orgasm washes over her, a whine leaving her as her head tips back, giving him enough room to press a litany of open mouthed kisses across her throat.

All at once, the room falls silent, the faint droning of the TV in the next room still humming on where they left it. They’re both panting and Aemond turns onto his back, his hand keeping her leg splayed across his lap while he does it, a faint stretch burning in her thigh.

"I win," she announces breathlessly, wiping her hand clean of him before flopping onto her side, cheek pressing tight against his chest.

He vibrates under her face with a huffed laugh, his hand comes up to stroke at her hair mindlessly. "I think you already got your prize."

She turns her head up to meet his eye. "And if I want another one?"

He turns down to kiss her again. This time, it’s much gentler, all the desperation that had filled the air between them simmering down to nearly nothing. A part of her thinks that he may be content to simply lay here with her in their disheveled bed but then he reaches for her ass again, using his grip there to tug her to lay flat on top of him. His cock is already half hard between them and she feels the side of her mouth quirk up at the realization that he is, in fact, not quite done yet.

“That can be arranged.”

[feasibilities]

Growing Pains | Neil Lewis x Unstable Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

Synopsis: Lying to Neil about breaking up with him didn't go over too well, so you want to make it up to him. Warnings: Stalking, Home Invasion, Non-Con, Humiliation, Exhibitionism, Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Degradation, Dom-Sub Aspects, etc.

Author's Note: I've seen a lot of amazing stories that make Neil the creep so I wanted to reverse the roles. I love how scared he looks in the gif above. Also, please reply if you want me to add you to a taglist! Here. Take it! @mothhball

“I missed you so much, Neil.” You whispered, standing over the fearful man. His blue eyes were wide with unease.

“How the fuck did you…” Neil trailed off, noticing the unlocked window you crawled through. 

“You left it unlocked so I knew you were waiting for me.” You smiled.

“You have serious issues. You broke up with me and when I finally start to get over you, here you are.” Neil complained, putting his face in his hands.

“You mean you weren’t thinking of me all those times you jacked off in the shower or in here with some smutty VHS tape playing?” You teased, walking to his worn out VHS player.

Neil went to stop you from taking the tape out but remembered he was nude underneath the blanket. He rushed awkwardly and hid his lower half, but he was too late.

“College Girls Get Pounded #13. What a summary!” You exclaimed, putting the tape back in the slot and pressing play. A lewd clip of a cheerleader having an orgy with some of her football-playing counterparts appeared on the screen. Gruff hands entered the frame to grab at the soft flesh of her breasts, thighs, and ass. Her pleas for mercy were met sneers and teasing. 

“Can you please-“ Neil started, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

“Shh, this is my favorite part.” You shushed him, earning a confused glance.

You watched her entire body shake as one of the players rammed into her. He covered her mouth and held her firmly in place. Her cries of pleasure were still audible. Just as she was about to come, Neil turned off the TV.

“Please go home. You’ve humiliated me enough.” Neil sighed, ignoring his hard-on. 

“I am home. Also, I have something to show you. Be right back.” You winked, scurrying into his closet with your book bag. 

Neil told himself that he was sick of your mind games, but another part of him was absolutely enthralled. None of his exes put him on edge like you did. You brought out the most insane parts of his personality. 

Opening the closet door, you revealed that you put on your old cheerleader uniform. It was a bit too snug and your skirt sat too high. Your breasts were spilling out of the top. You sold the look with a sparkly bow tied around your ponytail. Neil was practically drooling, but he tried to stay firm in his refusal of your advances. 

“J-just go. I don’t even know why you put that on.” Neil said, his voice cracking toward the beginning of the sentence. 

You walked toward him and stood over him once more. He closed his eyes tightly hoping you would disappear like you did in his dreams. You were obviously still standing there when he opened them. Kneeling in front of him, you started to pull the blanket away from his lower half. You giggled at his pathetic efforts to stop you. Finally, you saw what he was so embarrassed about. His dick was painfully hard. Pre-ejaculate leaked from his tip. Veins adorned his shaft. 

You took him in your hands as an evil smile grew across your face. You squeezed slightly, making him whimper. 

“Dirty little boy…” You degraded him. Suddenly, you had an idea that would humiliate him further. 

“Stand in front of the window.” You ordered.  

“Please don-“ He begged.

“Do it.” You spat through gritted teeth. 

He walked to the window and stood quietly. You walked up behind him and forcefully put his hands above the window, exposing himself completely. You spit in your hand and began stroking him harshly. Neil cried out and asked you to stop. However, you saw him thrusting into your hand. His eyes brimmed with tears as his anxiety was through the roof. It was the middle of the night, but he worried some stranger would see you two. 

You planted kisses on his shoulder and occasionally massaged his tip with your thumb. You were turned on by his crying. Neil’s whining grew louder as he approached his climax. His hands were clenched into tight fists above the window. You rutted against him to rile him up even more. Suddenly, hot ropes seed shot out of him onto the window sill. The rest seeped between your fingers. You continued to stroke slowly to drain him of any remaining defiance. 

“P-please, I’ll do anything you say. It hurts.” Neil sobbed.

“You mean it?” You mocked.

“Yes.” Neil replied, tears rolling down his face. 

“Good.” You said, pulling him toward the bed and pushing him down. Straddling him, you pulled off your top. Neil’s teary eyes took in the beautiful sight. He reached up to touch you before you smacked his hand away. 

“I wanna watch a movie.” You blurted out. Neil seemed to relax at your suggestion. You made it an effort to bend over and put in the tape. Coming back to the bed, you straddled him once more, facing away. You pulled up your skirt and slid down on him. A faint moan left your mouth as you turned to the screen. 

“I tho-I thought we were watching a movie.” Neil faltered, feeling a rush of adrenaline again. 

“We are. Now shut up so I can watch.” You reprimanded him, moving up and down slowly. You missed how he felt inside of you. Neil’s breathing was heavy and ragged. His pupils were dilated and his legs trembled intermittently. He saw how your arousal covered his shaft. He wanted to pin you down and take you like the girl in the video. Being submissive to you proved to be way more interesting, however. 

“This is one of the high points of 1940s cinema, isn’t it?” You asked innocently, bouncing faster. 

“What?” Neil responded, completely oblivious. 

“Why aren’t you paying attention? This is one of your favorite movies, Neil. You talked my fucking ear off about it when we met.” You chastised him, slowing down once more. 

“N-no, I am paying attention. I feel like it’s one of the best movies of the era. I…” He trailed off once you clenched around him. 

“Mhmm, and what else?” You teased. 

“The cinematography is extraordinary.” He said, staring at you. 

“Yeah...” Your voice quavered as you felt that familiar warmth in your lower stomach. Neil picked up on this and decided to return the favor. He sat up and pulled you toward him. Your back was flush against his chest. He groped your breasts harshly and moved his hand to your clit. You gave him a death stare that made him smile sweetly. 

“What did you like about the movie, darling?” Neil goaded. 

“Fuck you.” You ignored him, loving that he was touching you.

“Ah-ah, watch your language.” He said, bottoming out. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he held you tightly. As he began thrusting vigorously, he pinched one of your nipples. A reverberant moan left your throat. At this point, the neighbors definitely heard you two. Neil moved his fingers from your clit to your mouth. Eyes rolling back, you sucked them lovingly as he hit your g-spot with each thrust. You leaned forward to lessen the blow of his movements before he yanked you back by your skirt. 

“Stay still, slut.” Neil snapped, putting a hand around your throat. 

Your vision went white when you came. You groaned loudly and held his wrist for dear life. He missed this so much. You two pushed each other to your respective limits. He was truly depressed when you “broke up” with him. You made it seem so real. He wondered if he wasn’t enough, but now he had his answer. 

[dark-and-kawaii]

Maybe this is self-indulgent, but what about beating Haarlep in the game of seduction? Like, making the incubus long for Tav instead of the other way around. I want to see Haarlep being utterly desperate for someone, see him yearning so fiercely it makes him burn, see him so swept up by the passion of another that he is being lavished with that thoughts of him trying to use/command the situation in some way don't even occur to him until after he has come down from the high of pleasure. What do you think would be going through his mind?

Starved

Haarlep x Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I really enjoyed receiving this request, I’m sorry it took a hot minute to post, but I did enjoy it greatly. Scenarios like this for Haarlep make my knees crumble. I wrote a small story and answered your question after it!! Please let me know what you thought <3 And please enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Submissive Haarlep | Starved Haarlep | Comfort | Slight NSFW

Haarlep's eyes, usually filled with a predatory gleam, now held a hint of vulnerability. Something about your aura has ignited a fire within them, a craving they cannot ignore.

As the Incubus circles you, your lashes flutter with lust. The desire to be mounted by them, to feel the creature's cock sliding into you, is undeniable. You had wanted them since you met, yet all you could do was tease them with a subtle kiss here and there.

Each time you visited before Raphael’s demise, Haarlep’s tail would twitch with delight, in hopes it would be the day they’d command your body, yet you’d always deny them. And with a gentle caress to their cheek, you’d whisper, "Soon, my Incubus. Soon." Before walking away, your clothes hugging tightly to your frame, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And each time you left from their sight, Haarlep would groan, the feeling of being starved too much to bare, and the need to sink into your heat becoming unbearable. No one has ever denied them, but you had, and that only made the Incubus crave you even more.

Haarlep recalls those nights where they would have no choice but to stroke their own length. A visual of you naked and begging for them to fill you was always enough to help them finish. But it wasn't the same.

This is the first time you've been able to truly be alone, to be able to indulge in all the fantasies that have been building. Haarlep's voice, usually smooth and commanding, trembles ever so slightly as they move closer towards you. Their words filled with a desperate longing. Haarlep yearns to taste the forbidden fruit that is your body, to cherish the intoxicating symphony of pleasure that awaits you both.

Every touch, every caress of yours, sends electric currents coursing through Haarlep's veins. Their body, usually so confident and self-assured, now quivers with need. The way your gaze lingers over their shape causes them to dissolve into a malleable state. It's an unfamiliar sensation... And in that moment, the fact that they are an incubus slips from their consciousness.

Haarlep has seen, been with thousands, but never once has anything, or anyone made their heart quickened it’s beat quite like you. Hells, Haarlep never even knew such a thing possible for their kind. The Incubus, who has known no other feeling than that of sexual desire, is experiencing something entirely new, and it scares them.

And when your lips meet their chest, their skin aches with every flick of your tongue, they can't stop the moan from escaping. Their hand tangling in your hair, as their other holds you in place, and for the first time, Haarlpes mind becomes clouded.

The once dominant incubus now becomes the submissive, lost in the rapture of their union. They are consumed by the sheer euphoria of the moment, their thoughts of control and manipulation vanishing into thin air.

You, empowered by your ability to awaken such submission in Haarlep, take the lead, guiding them through a dance of passion and fulfillment. With a single kiss, you claim the incubus as your own, Haarlep’s very own soul now bound to your will.

Your hands explore their body, tracing their abs, moving lower, and lower still. As your fingertips reach the base of their cock, Haarlep’s breath hitches. You feel their pulse quicken, and your core clenches.

Without hesitation, you wrap your fingers around the thick shaft, and with a tight grip, you guide it into your folds. The incubus shudders, their head leaning back, mouth agape, eyes closed, while you slowly sink onto their thick member.

As you take in more and more of their length, Haarlep is completely overwhelmed. They are utterly stripped of control, a willing slave to your whims and desires. Their hunger for you, their need to be thoroughly and relentlessly ravished, becomes all consuming. Every bounce on their cock, every kiss, sends waves of pleasure crashing over them, shattering any remnants of resistance they once possessed.

As the climax approaches, Haarlep's body tenses, their groans and moans reaching a crescendo of ecstasy. In the throes of pleasure, they reach the pinnacle of their desire, trembling and quaking beneath your loving touch. It is in this moment of ultimate surrender that the realization of their vulnerability dawns upon them, leaving the incubus breathless, impressed, and completely sated.

As your lips part, you stare into the eyes of a creature you never once thought you’d fall for, their will now completely submissive, their soul forever bound to yours.

"I am yours, and you are mine.” Is all you say, before resting your forehead against theirs.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Haarlep is used to being the one who stirs sexual relations, not the one overwhelmed by it. As Tav begins to turn the tides, Haarlep might initially be confused. They are not accustomed to the roles being reversed, and it would take them time to understand what's happening.

Eventually realization would dawn on Haarlep that Tav is not just resisting but actively seducing them, Haarlep would likely feel surprised, proud/impressed of Tav even.

I think because Haarlep is so accustomed to being in command, they would find the loss of control a bit frightening but eventually once they come down from the high they’d find it thrilling since it was you/tav. If it was anyone or anything else the fear might linger a bit longer…

There might be a grudging respect or even admiration for Tav's prowess. Haarlep would recognize the skill involved in turning the tables on an incubus, and part of them might appreciate the challenge Tav presents. Leaving them wanting to be at your side.

[humanpurposes]

We're Born At Night

Chapter 2

Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, politics, mentions of death and war, Aemond is a bit of a dick but that's his job

Words: 5.9k

A/n: I was aiming to post this on Sunday (but a pretty girl said I was cute and I went a bit insane 😌)

“Cheat!”

Rhaelle conceals her delight as she claims the ivory King piece from the cyvasse board. “It is not cheating, dear sister, it is strategy.”

Sunset is not long away. Rhaelle and Daena have spent most of the day in their chambers, waiting, flicking through the small collection of books from the shelf, playing cards and games of cyvasse which all end in the same way, a decisive victory for Rhaelle.

She cannot stomach the thought of food or sweets, cider or wine. She just feels her heart drumming in her chest, pulsing through the blood that runs under her skin. Aemond’s voice is still a whisper in her head and the other faces in the throne room are a blur, like trying to remember details from a dream. She should have been more attentive. The number of potential allies at court might be few but they will be invaluable if they are to advance here. 

So they wait. Wait for Lord Corlys to give them some indication that the King has acknowledged their cause, that he has even heard it.

She glances down at her fingers wrapped around the King piece, at the hand he kissed a matter of hours ago. Aemond had been rather welcoming in the throne room, she supposes, at least publicly. 

“But you tricked me!” Daena protests, looking in despair over the few pieces she has left on the board.

“I acted within the rules of the game,” Rhaelle says simply.

Daena makes a disheartened but determined huffing sound and starts to set the pieces out again, when there is a knock at the door. Morra answers and returns with Ser Willis, donned in his white cloak, with his helm under his arm and a broadsword proudly by his side.

Rhaelle taps her fingers on the table in front of Daena to get her attention and rises. “Lord Commander,” she says, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Lady Rhaelle,” he greets with a small bow of his head. “I have a request from the King.”

Her heart leaps. Finally the waiting is at an end, but she contains herself. “Which is?”

“His Grace often takes his niece and nephew for a walk about the gardens in the evening, before the Prince and Princess are put to bed. He is unable to fulfil this duty tonight and asked if yourself and Lady Daena would like to take his place?”

She catches Daena’s eye for a moment and sees the same brightness in her gaze, the same hopefulness. 

Aegon, her heart whispers to her. Aemond has invited them to meet with their brother.

Ser Willis leads the way, Morra following behind as they head towards the courtyard, to the lowered drawbridge of Maegor’s Holdfast. The halls here are closer than inside the rest of the castle and the windows are smaller so the light is lower. Ser Willis leads them through locked doors and flights of stairs, until they come to a series of apartments that are bright and grand, with wide open rooms and paler stone walls that reflect the light.

At last they come to a room where pale blue is the most prominent colour. The stonework is adorned with images of flowers and dragons alike, and a fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth.

There are two settees in the centre of the room. On the one facing the door, a little girl with silver hair in a light blue gown stares intently at the book on her governess’ lap. Her lavender eyes follow the words as the woman reads to her.

And perched on the windowsill is a boy, a little older, with a wooden knight in his hands. He turns his head when he hears the door open and stares right at them, with his lips downturned and his violet eyes wide and unblinking. He looks like Daena did when she was small, with neatly combed silver hair instead of her dark brown curls.

The governess closes the book and gathers the children to stand before their visitors. “Forgive us, my Ladies, we have been waiting patiently for you, haven’t we children?”

The girl clings to the woman’s hand, staring up at them like she is holding back tears, while the boy stands straight with his hands behind his back.

“Princess,” the governess says, ushering the girl forward, “these are your cousins, the Lady Rhaelle, and the Lady Daena.”

Jaehaera, the orphan Princess, the last of her family save for her uncle Aemond. She had a twin once, and a baby brother. Prince Jaehearys was beheaded only a short walk away from this room, before the eyes of his mother, his grandmother, and his siblings. It was in the early days of the war, a son for a son, at the order of Daemon Targaryen. 

The little Princess takes a tentative step forwards, clinging to the sides of her gown as she curtsies steadily and gracefully.

Rhaelle curties low and rises to offer the girl a sympathetic smile, because losing a mother is a terrible thing, a lonely thing, which she knows all too well.

“Prince Aegon,” the governess says next, ushering him forward, “these are your sisters.” There is no warmth to her voice like she has for Jaeheara, but no contempt either, just an unsure sort of bluntness. 

Aegon looks between them. “My father’s daughters,” he says softly.

Rhaelle extends a hand to him. Those eyes are so precious, she thinks, the eyes that had to see his own mother burned and devoured by his uncle’s dragon. Her heart shatters for him, for both of them, that they have had to witness so much horror.

“We have wanted to meet you for some time,” she says.

Aegon nods and holds her hand tightly. In the corner of her eye she sees the governess watching them.

Ser Willis and another Kingsguard, Ser Gyles Belgrave, accompany them to the gardens. When the governess goes to follow, Rhaelle holds up her hand. “No need,” she says, “my sister and I should like to acquaint ourselves with her family. We will be no longer than an hour.”

Neither the governess nor the guards protest.

The gardens are nothing like the countryside around Runestone, gravel paths and fountains, rows of carefully trimmed hedges, walkways covered in red ivy and trees that have begun to shed their golden leaves. They stay in sight of the castle, and Ser Willis and Ser Gyles are never far behind them.

Daena is delighted with young Aegon. She runs her hands over his hair, kisses his cheek, asks him about his favourite books and if he has held a sword yet.

Jaeheara was quiet at first but has warmed up, letting Rhaelle take one hand and Morra take the other. Her hand is small, soft and delicate, so much that Rhaelle worries she might break her if she holds her too tightly. She babbles on about the things children do. She says her favourite colour is blue, like her gown and like the sky. She says her governess is teaching her how to read, count and dance, but she wants to learn to sew.

“What would you sew?” Rhaelle asks.

Jaeheara knits her brow in thought. “Butterflies,” she says, “and spiders, and ladybirds.”

“You like insects?” Morra says.

“I can’t decide,” says Jaehaera, “but mother liked them very much.”

Rhaelle so desperately wants to bring her into her arms and hold her close to her chest. “Did your mother sew too?” she asks.

“Oh yes, she had a gift for us every day.” She keeps her eyes on the gravel shifting beneath her feet. “That means she was kind, doesn’t it?”

Rhaelle stops and turns to Jaehaera, bending her knees a little so their eyes meet. A flash of silver catches her attention instead, back towards the castle. She looks past Jaehaera’s shoulder, to a balcony overlooking the gardens. She knows it’s him, if the hair doesn’t give him away the black eyepatch against his pale skin does.

“Your mother was kind to me, when I knew her,” she says, gently.

Jaehaera’s eyes widen. Rhaelle worries she might start to cry but instead she smiles. “Uncle Aemond says she was kind.”

Her heart is humming again and her hands are starting to tremble. He must be watching them, watching her.

A little further down the path, Aegon and Daena are picking blackberries from a bramble bush, giggling as they place them in their mouths.

Rhaelle can hardly help herself but cup one of Jaehaera’s plump little cheeks. “We might find some insects in the bushes, what do you think, little Princess?”

“I often see ladybirds on the bramble bushes,” Jaehaera says. “I think they must like blackberries.”

Aegon calls his cousin’s name and waves at her with one hand, while cupping something in the other. He has found a caterpillar and shows it to Jaehaera. She stares down at its little green body with an endearing wonder, before deciding she wants to hold it too and show Morra. 

While the children are distaced, Rhaelle steps close enough to Daena that they can speak softly to each other, without having to lean in too obviously.

“He said he knows all about us from Alyssa,” Daena says, “she used to tell him about us, about Runestone. Then he asked me if she was dead too.”

Rhaelle almost flinches. 

“He is not yet seven years old and he has watched most of his family die,” Daena whispers bitterly, glancing towards the guards, out of earshot. 

Rhaelle watches them too, far too busy with their own conversation to be listening to them and only sparing occasional glances towards the children. Then she looks back to the castle, hoping Aemond is still there, and he is.

When Ser Willis says it is time for the children to be taken back to the Holdfast, Rhaelle and Daena oblige. Jaehaera’s hands and mouth are covered in purple fruit juice and she is delighted with herself. 

They pass under the balcony where Aemond stands as they reenter the castle. Daena and Morra are walking arm in arm. Aegon and Jaeheara are excitedly talking about caterpillars and butterflies and all the places they would fly to if they could grow wings.

Rhaelle sees him though, and catches his lone eye. His face is unreadable, stern and soft, dark and light.

Instinct, a reckless urge that she justifies as a risk, drives her towards a doorway leading off from the entrance hall. Daena and Morra will wait for her in their chambers once the children have been seen back to the nursery. The doorway leads to a hall, then a small winding staircase. She hitches her skirts and climbs it quickly, ensuring not to lose her footing in haste. She feels like she is chasing something intangible and follows it along a gallery, then to the balcony beyond that.

Aemond is still standing there with his hands behind his back and his head tall, looking south, over the gardens and Blackwater Bay beyond that. The noise of the castle does not reach her ears here, only the sound of the wind and the waves rolling over the shore beneath the Keep. In the west the sky burns like fire and in the east it is already getting dark.

She approaches him slowly, her shoes making enough of a noise against the flagstone floor to alert him of her presence, but softly enough so as not to disturb him. She comes to stand beside him on his seeing side, keeping her head straight but watching him, always watching him. “Your Grace,” she says quietly.

The corner of his mouth is curled. Is he smirking? Or is he irritated by her presence? “My Lady,” he returns.

Her hands are shaking. She brings them before her, clasping them together so she cannot fidget. “I had assumed you had other business this evening.”

“You assumed,” he says without looking at her.

“Ser Willis said you invited us to see the children.”

“I thought you might like to.”

“I did,” she insists, turning her head to face him. “I did. I am grateful. Daena and I are both grateful.”

Aemond hums, low and cryptic. It makes her feel weightless for a moment. He finally turns his head towards her. “The boy has mentioned you before, his Royce sisters, each of you.”

Coming from any other’s lips she might have taken her mother’s name as a compliment, and it could almost be that given the softness of his voice as he says it. But something else is written in the way he holds himself, the intensity in his eye, the striking gleam of silver hair falling over black leather: he is a true Targaryen, and she is an outsider.

Perhaps if she looks into his eye for long enough she’ll be able to read his thoughts. She finds nothing, save for an unsettled feeling in her chest and stomach. So she looks away, back out over the gardens. “I am glad my brother is being treated so well,” she says.

“Why should that surprise you?”

She tilts her head and gives him a rather pointed look. She asks herself if she would dare answer that question seriously. He still has the knife on him, maybe he’ll draw it and cut her throat for treason if she presses him hard enough.

Instead he hums a small laugh. “Prince Aegon is my heir until I have sons of my own. You needn’t fear if your brother is being mistreated.”

For now.

Then he adds in a quieter voice, “he is good with Jaehaera.”

Aegon was an older brother after all, and meant to have a younger sister of his own until the outbreak of war.

“The Princess is a delight,” Rhaelle says, “she is easy to love.”

Aemond’s eye lights up and he almost smiles. “She’s a sweet little thing, just like her mother was. Jaehaerys was the same…” he seems to regret this train of thought when he takes a slow breath and frowns to himself.

Rhaelle watches his chest rise and fall, this formidable man, a King forged in a time of war, determined not to crumble in the face of his own grief. She can almost pity him, and perhaps she does when she feels a gnawing sort of feeling knotting and twisting inside of her. She aches for him, for his losses and for her own.

“I see my own mother in many ways,” she says, taking a step into him. Aemond looks to her again, darkly but patiently. “I see her in my sister when she is stubborn. I see her in myself sometimes, all the times I thought she was being overbearing. I see her when I ride through the hills at Runestone. I feel her hovering over my shoulder when I draw a bow.”

Aemond has turned his body to face her now, not completely, just a little. One of his hands rests on the balustrade brought into a gentle fist, and he’s standing close to her, enough that she can hear each breath he takes and smell the leather of his jerkin.

“Because we don’t truly lose them,” she says, “at least I hope not. I can scarcely remember my mother’s face but I still know her love.”

“And that gives you comfort?” Aemond says.

“It does.”

“And what of your father, what love do you have for him?”

His question steals the air from her lungs. What love does she have for him, the man she hardly knew? The man her mother hated. The man who gave her his name and the burden of his legacy. Daemon’s blood runs through her veins as much as Rhea Royce’s does, life beyond death, enduring and damning. 

Aemond is watching her intently, waiting for her answer, searching her face for a sign of weakness, but always with that gleam of amusement. Did he look for weakness in Daemon before they mounted their dragons at the God’s Eye? Did he find the fear he seems to feed off?

“The same all girls have for their fathers, I suppose,” is her answer.

“And do all girls love their fathers?”

“As best we can.”

“How diplomatic of you,” he says, smirking. He’s toying with her, testing her like a hunting trap.

“You distrust me,” she says. 

He tuts. “I would very much like to trust you.”

“Yet you do not.”

“Do you trust me, cousin?” 

It’s like asking if she would trust a snarling beast with a taste for her blood. “You are my King,” she says.

“And as King, it is my duty to identify threats, to my rule and to the realm.”

His gaze does not falter, and so she will not allow hers to either.

“Am I a threat, Your Grace?” 

He considers her for a few moments, like he did in the throne room, studying her as closely and thoroughly as a scholar studies an ancient tome. All the while he curls his lips like he has a secret. “My brother was King before me,” he says in a low voice, taking another small step into her. “You are aware of the end he met?”

“Poison,” she says.

“And I took Larys Strong’s head for it, a man who served my mother for many years, who saw Jaeheara to safety during the war, who helped Aegon return to King’s Landing when it was taken from him. I could have all manner of enemies in these very walls, those who might seek to replace me with a child, more easily controlled than I am. Wearing a crown did not spare my brother from death and it will not spare me.”

He can trust no one, he means. A crown has become comparable to a death sentence as of late, and Kings and Queens are perhaps not as invincible as they once seemed. 

“You are not your brother,” she says.

“No. What am I then?”

She parts her lips to respond, but she cannot give him an answer. In truth, the thought of being face to face with him, to ask for his mercy had terrified her when she first left Runestone. Aemond Targaryen, the man who started a war when he killed his nephew, who burned armies and put innocent men, women and children to the sword, who killed her father.

She has often wondered how he did it, if the battle was quick, or if it was long and bitter. She has wondered if the dragons tore each other to pieces, or if Aemond had been able to look his uncle in the eye as he claimed his life.

Before all of that he was a child with a gruesome gash in his face, who had tried so hard to hide his pain from her. 

He hums cryptically and she feels him lean in closer to her, coming close enough that she can see the imperfections and the details in his face, the lines around his mouth and the texture of his skin. The edges of his scar appear as thin lines now. It is a striking element to his appearance, but other than that, she supposes he is merely a man.

“I have asked you once but I shall ask again: have you come to ask something of me, Lady Rhaelle?”

Lord Corlys would warn her to be patient. There is a strategy that must be employed, a set order in place for making a request of the King. She must be delicate, for Alyssa’s sake.

She spots his hand on the balustrade and places her own over it, barely tracing her fingers over his. She feels his gaze on her all the while. “Our house has been divided for too long. Shouldn’t we seek to heal this rift between our families?”

He watches where their hands meet and lifts them until their palms are against one another. Rhaelle’s fingertips press into the grooves of his fingers, against his warmth and the rough calluses of his skin.

“Hmm,” he says, threading his fingers through hers, closing over her knuckles. “You have a way with choosing your words carefully.”

Naturally. Her survival depends on it. “As must we all, Your Grace,” she says.

He mutters under his breath, like she’s played a winning move in a game of cyvasse, “very good.”

She can still feel him when she returns to her chambers, the gentlest brush of his fingertips and the heat of his hand against hers. She can mistake a gentle draft or breeze for his breath ghosting over her face, the sound of the wind beyond the window as the sound of his voice.

Lord Corlys visits them after dinner. She offers him some of the leftover roast beef but she shakes his head and instead asks for a cup of wine as he makes himself comfortable in an armchair before the hearth.

Rhaelle joins him, bringing two cups with her while Morra carries the decanter of wine. Daena gathers a fur throw, a pillow and a book, and settles on a chaise by the window. She doesn’t usually like to read, especially not at night when she can scarcely see the words.

Rhaelle smiles at her, sceptically. Daena shrugs her shoulders and lowers her eyes to the page.

“I have news from Driftmark,” Lord Coryls says, “Baela and Rhaena have accepted their invitation to the King’s Tournament and will set sail for King’s Landing in three days time.”

This is supposed to make her happy. From what she remembers at their mother’s funeral and the wedding feast, her half-sisters were agreeable enough but still unfamiliar. Baela, the older twin, was a little more forward than her sister, a dragonrider from a young age and it showed. Rhaena was far quieter and more cautious. They must be changed now, being right in the heart of Rhaenyra’s war.

“The King’s Tournament?” Daena’s voice calls from the window.

“Tourneys, feasts, dancing; a celebration to mark the betrothal of the King to Lady Floris Baratheon,” Corlys says, raising his glass. 

A romance for the ages: he barged into Storm’s End looking for an army to support his brother’s claim, and she was the most agreeable of four sisters.

“The eyes of the realm will be on the two of you,” Lord Corlys says.

“I do not see why we would attract such interest,” Daena says.

“Aemond still needs to secure his rule. His heir is a child and the son of his brother’s rival. After that his closest competitors for the throne are his uncle’s daughters.”

“My sisters and I have no desire for a crown, Lord Corlys,” Rhaelle says.

“You are Targaryens and you have a claim to the throne whether you desire it or not. That invites challenge. Half the country has been devastated by war and the rest will struggle through winter. I’m afraid your matter will take time.”

“How much time?”

He gestures vaguely with his hands. “You will appear before the King tomorrow. You will renounce your father, your step-mother and your late betrothed. The King will accept, and you will ask only that Lady Alyssa be spared from the headsman.”

“He would have her killed?”

“It is a matter of contention amongst the members of the Small Council, but as I understand it, His Grace has little desire to spill any more blood than is necessary.”

Daena chuckles quietly to herself.

Lord Corlys’ brow raises, but he does not comment on it. “In return for your loyalty, I expect the King to welcome you wholeheartedly into his court. When Aemond and Floris are wed you may be given positions in the Queen’s Household. You’ll be able to stay here permanently, you’ll get to see your brother and sisters often, and eventually you’ll make good matches to rich and powerful husbands, as befitting your royal blood.”

She wouldn’t have her mother’s cousins pestering her about the absence of the Lady of Runestone, eyeing the seat that belongs to her sister. Hers and Daena’s futures would be secured. 

“And what of Alyssa?” she asks.

“I will ensure she is kept alive and well, and in time, we may convince the King to release her.”

May convince. The thought does not feel particularly assuring, but what else can she do?

She wakes at dawn the next morning, dresses and readies herself for court as she had done the previous day, taking her sister’s arm as they walk into the throne room. There is no grand entrance this time, they are led to an adjacent chamber and enter through a small doorway that leads them to the far end of the hall.

She and Daena stand to the right, below the steps that lead to the throne, behind the members of the Small Council, Lord Corlys, Lord Tyland, Maester Orwyle, Lord Unwin Peake, Martyn Hightower and his brother, Garmund. These men have no doubt argued over the matter of her sister’s imprisonment. “A matter of contention,” as Lord Corlys had said.

Aemond sits upon the throne again, comfortably poised, and she is amongst the first to lobby him. 

Lord Corlys steps forward to announce her as she approaches the Iron Throne. She comes to her knees before him and allows herself to look up. She half expects to find him smiling, but his lips are in a thin line, not amused or prideful, but curious, his eye fixed upon her face.

“Your Grace,” she says, mustering all the courage she can to give her voice a clear demand without pushing too far. “I come before you once again as your loyal subject, to speak for myself and for my sister, Lady Daena.”

Aemond crosses one of his legs over the other, with his arm resting upon the throne, amongst the sharp edges of the blades. He brings his fingers to his chin and tilts his head, a command to continue.

She feels her pulse quicken, the words threatening to catch in her throat as they had done before, but she forces herself through it. “I renounce my late father, the traitor, Daemon Targaryen. I renounce my late step-mother, Princess Rhaenyra and her attempt to supplant the true line of succession. I renounce my former betrothed, the late Prince Joffrey. I–” she catches Lord Corlys’ eye and he nods to her. 

She thinks of Alyssa, her brave, beautiful sister, who held her and soothed her when Ser Gerold explained that their mother would never return to them, whose wisdom she worshipped and whose arms she sought comfort in until the day Daemon took her to Dragonstone. Once the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now condemned to death if Rhaelle does not save her.

“I come before you again, to pledge my loyalty to you, and to our house,” she says, keeping her head down, waiting for the sound of Aemond’s voice or his footsteps.

“Come to me,” he says.

It’s like her body is set alight, heat, fury and excitement rising in her belly, her blood running hot beneath her skin. There is anger too, because she cannot read him, because she cannot tell if this is a show of favour or if he means to insult her somehow. She resents his incessant staring. She resents his cold, impassive nature. She resents the light feeling in her limbs as she climbs the steps to stand before him.

He rises to meet her, his hand outstretched and his lips threatening to break into a smirk. 

Most of what she had heard of her father was that he was a jealous and ambitious man. He coveted this seat, held by his brother, promised to his niece, ultimately claimed by his nephew. Daemon killed for it, he died for it, and now she is close enough that she could reach out and touch it.

She places her hand in his and he holds her gently, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. She clenches her jaw as she tries not to shudder.

“I accept your pledge,” he says, then loudly, so the others in the room may hear him. “It is not my wish to punish you for the sins of your family.”

The room hums with curious murmurs, nods of approval and whispers.

“Forgive me,” Rhaelle says quietly, as if this were a private exchange, as if they were not on display before the court. “You asked me yesterday if I had something to ask of you, and the truth is I do.”

Aemond’s brow raises, but the rest of his face is solemn. “Go on,” he says.

“My sister, Alyssa, is currently your prisoner, declared to be a traitor by your brother’s order. Spare her life, cousin, I beg you.”

Suddenly the silence in the hall is tangible. What must they be thinking, the Lords and Ladies before them, the men of the Small Council, Lord Corlys?

She does not spare a glance for any of them. She tightens her grip on Aemond’s hand and when she looks into his eye she does not plead for pity or sympathy. She is a Targaryen just as much as he is, with fire in her blood and pride in her heart.

“Lady Rhaelle,” Aemond says, “you are the acting Lady of Runestone.”

“I am, Your Grace.”

“You do a fine job of it, so I understand?”

She hesitates. She ensures the castle, its lands and people are kept well. She advises Lady Arryn when it is required of her. “As best I can, Your Grace.”

He leans in closer to her, close enough that she feels his breath on the shell of her ear and her neck. “Do away with modesty, it is a waste of my time,” he mutters. When he pulls away the corner of his mouth is curled so that it could almost be a joke. “Lady Rhaelle,” he announces, addressing the room, “in return for your loyalty to the crown, I hereby grant you the title of Lady of Runestone and all its inheritance.”

The room applauds this decision but Rhaelle is struck by dread. She looks to Daena, equally surprised, equally powerless. She looks to Lord Corlys, who seems to accept this too. The faces of Lord Tyland, Lord Unwin, and the Hightowers are less pleased.

She turns back to Aemond and keeps her voice low, “Your Grace, I cannot accept–”

His grip on her hand becomes a painful one as he turns his face in towards her. “You will accept,” he says with a cold fury. “While I am moved by your devotion to your sister, she must remain a prisoner and forfeit any and all claims she was previously entitled to.”

His face is dark and severe and her stomach drops like she is standing at the edge of some great height, one step away from a fall. She might be wise to fear this side of him, she thinks, but she is tempted to refuse him, to take that final step from the edge if only to see what anger he can truly unleash. She’d take pride in it, and maybe it’s her Targaryen nature, but suddenly something in the back of her mind thirsts for chaos.

It is her choice to make, but her life and the lives of her family will be at risk if she makes the wrong one.

And so she must choose her words carefully, unsure if it will bring her closer to her goal or drag her further from it.

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.”

Rhaelle and Daena dine alone that night. She is starving, but then the meat is brought out, a cut of roasted lamb, rare meat still on the bone that bleeds when Morra starts to carve it for them. It repulses her. She cannot even look at it. She downs a cup of apple cider instead and manages a mouthful of bread.

Daena can see that something is wrong, but does not question her.

Morra, on the other hand, offers her more cider and something that might be softer on her stomach. “Blackberries?” she suggests with a kind smile.

“Please,” Rhaelle mutters. 

Morra brings her a small bowl of them, dusted with sugar. At first she is thankful for how refreshing the taste is on her tongue, until she looks down at her fingertips and sees them stained red. 

She forces her hand away from her lips in a sudden jolt of movement, and in her haste knocks her fork to the floor with a jarring clatter of metal against stone.

It doesn’t matter, she thinks, starting to wipe her fingers against her napkin, but the red will not fade. She tries harder, dragging the fabric against her skin until it almost burns, but it won’t come out, it will not–

“Lady Rhaelle?” 

She throws her napkin down on the table and covers her mouth, fighting the urge to gag. “I’m fine,” she tries to whisper, “I feel unwell is all.”

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Morra says.

Rhaelle shakes her head. “No, I just…” but she cannot find the words. She cannot decide what she needs.

“Come, sister,” Daena says, having risen from her seat and come to place her hand on her shoulder. “I think you need to rest.”

Rhaelle lets herself be led away into her bedchamber. Daena helps her to remove her jewellery and lays out a night shift on the bed for her. Once Rhaelle has undressed, she reaches for the pins in her hair.

“Let me,” Daena says softly, and Rhaelle’s hands fall away. Daena’s touch is unsure but gentle. She would never have had as much practice at doing another’s hair, not as the youngest sister, but it is a welcome comfort.

Rhaelle stares at her reflection in the mirror as Daena brings a brush through her hair. She watches candlelight and shadows flicker over her face, over both of their faces. Their eyes look dark in the lowlight, almost black, like their mother’s, not the striking violet that makes them their father’s daughters.

“Do you think the Gods will punish me for this?” she utters.

“Punish you? Whatever for?”

She swallows thickly, her vision starting to blur. “I offered a hundred men at arms to Lady Jeyne to fight in the war. I could have offered more. I could have mounted a horse myself and met our father at Harrenhal. I could have written to Rhaenyra and asked her to send Alyssa back to Runestone. I could have offered men to defend King’s Landing, or to hold Dragonstone. There is so much I could have done, and now I have forsaken our family, our own blood because I was too weak to do anything before–” she gasps to catch her breath. The tears have spilled from her eyes now, they sting against her cheeks and taste salty and bitter on her lips.

Daena’s hands vanish from her hair. Rhaelle instead finds herself cradled in her sister’s arms.

“Alyssa is our family,” Daena says. “It was not Daemon Targaryen who protected us when mother died, it was our sister, it was our cousins, it was House Royce. We remember, you taught me what that means.”

Daena presses a kiss to her head and strokes her hand over her hair, like Alyssa used to when they were girls, like the way she has always imagined her mother would. “Aemond will favour our cause,” she whispers. “He has to. He has to.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @persephonerinyes @gemini-mama @aemondzyrys @snh96 @magnificentdelusionr @aegonx @xxxkat3xxx @dahlias-and-marigolds @mandiiblanche @thaisthedreamer @heavenly1927 @herfantasyworldd @heimtathurs

[somegirlontheinternet135]

Ok but, how cool would it be if there was a click & point adventure game and dating sim based around The Beasts

Like, imagine you, the player, woke up in a dark, unknown forest. You don't know how, or why, you got there, but one thing's for sure, you don't want to stay for long, who knows what kind of horrors could be lurking in the darkness. . ? Quickly you make use of the environment, gathering wood & making a fire (via a minigame) in hopes it'll alert some cookies to your location, and while it doesn't work at first, it does give a certain someone, or something, a beacon to your location. . .

As you sit before the fire you just built, you begin to notice something was off. . . the forest you were in, it was quiet, eerily quiet, normally at night, many forest would be bustling with some sort of life: the sounds of night beasts, owls in the night, maybe the occasional cricket, but there was nothing. What only adds to this uncanny wood were its lack of creatures, not once did you encounter any sort of beasts on your journey. . . both these factors alone made you question what was really happening, is this all a dream? were you going crazy? questions were racing through your head, till finally, something snaps you out of it. . .

"Ooooooh!~ What do we have here?~"

"Has a little cookie come by to give me a visit?~"

A voice from the darkness pulls you out of your thoughts, jolting you onto your feet. Hearing that so suddenly within such a vacant space, you could've sworn you were alone. . ! You frantically look around, desperately trying to find the source of the voice, but the thing only laughs at you. . .

"W-Who's there?! show yourself!!"

"*Ehehe he he he HE HE HE HE!*"

"Try looking up here, darling~"

Your attention was slowly drawn to a tree behind you. On one of the branches, two heterochrome eyes staired at your from below, taking you off-guard, was that. . . a cookie? The creature made zero attempts to hide themselves as he jumps off the tree branch, over your fire. Light from the flames revealed their figure, they appeared to be some sort of jester, its figure & face making them resemble that of a cat. They do a bow before finally introducing themselves

"Shadow Milk Cookie, the world's favorite trickster~"

"Pleasure to meet you!"

In this scenario, the player is given two options, each of course having a different outcome:

Run Away

Sprinting away in fear will, of course, cause Shadow Milk to chase, eventually getting caught, though this does increase his interest in you

"*heh he he HE HE HE!* where are you going you silly little thing?!~"

"That was so much fun!~ I think I'm starting to like you already!~"

Standing Your Ground & Ask Questions

Respectably, you don't anything regarding the fallen heroes, but asking more questions does leave Shadow Milk upset

"H-How could you not know who I am?!"

"Shadow Milk Cookie, actor, playwright, dictator, does that not right a bell?!"

This's basically how the story starts. The player is isekaied into this strange world and are quickly met with the Fallen Heroes, who all woo the player with their charm & status in an attempt to find out how they got in, so they can do the same to get out. . . whatever that means. But one thing leads to another, and they all fall in love with the player, fighting over them. As for the player, they transverse through the strange world, learning of it and its secrets via minigames, hidden secrets, and puzzles, all while learning about the fallen heroes and their backstories. . .

I picture the game itself being a mix between one of those disturbing click & point adventure games (i.e. Sally Face, Fran Bow, and Little Misfortune) and a dating sim (i.e. Obey Me) which by itself, would cause major emotional whiplash, cause imagine going from seeing the most messed up sh*t to smooching your jester bf. For reference, think of the game as "Little Goody Two Shoes" something you should play btw!

[sfehvn]

new religion part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! This has been sitting in my drafts half-done for a looong time. Hope you enjoy! Xx

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI)

CW: Pregnancy

Word count: 2,347

Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The agony that coursed through cold veins was not unfounded. Astarion watched on with helpless eyes as you lay in bed, your condition only worsening through the days that had passed. Skin that had previously whispered the touch of light seemed much paler than it had before this sickness befell you. Hadn’t it? Yes, he was certain of it. Deep bags kissed under your eyes like bruises of a cruel fate, hair once silken to the touch had become brittle and flat. An emaciated picture of what you had been just days prior lay curled on the bed. If Astarion hadn’t known better, he would assume you hadn’t moved at all from your position since climbing into that bed after returning from the boutique. He had been the one to force you to bathe and stroll through the garden; of course you’d moved. The pain hung deep in his stomach but he refused to let it take him prey. What you were experiencing was far worse than any discomfort he may be feeling.

Three days.

It had only been three days, yet it felt like an eternity. It felt as if he had borne witness to your undoing in such a mercilessly short amount of time. A sadistic reminder of how fragile mortals were. Of how fragile his flower was. How barbarous the outcome; Astarion finally felt so deeply for a being other than himself, only to have it ripped away from tightly grasped hands. He had restrained the urge to maim and destroy you, allowed his love for you to flourish in its haste, yet had still proved to be your inevitable downfall. The wretched thing dwelled in your womb. The disgust ebbed and flowed deep in his gut. All the while he knew the culprit of your condition; he wouldn’t dare utter a word until it had been confirmed. An unspoken battle; should he be forthright with the circumstance? No doubt you would wish to brave the godsforsaken gestation, your longing for motherhood had been made abundantly clear. Stubbornness had been one of the many traits that had made Astarion’s unbeating heart grow fonder of you; in this plight, it very well may be your undoing.

From Astarion’s peripheral, a chambermaid enters the room, awaiting permission to address him. He nods silently in approval, eyes never leaving your debilitated form. “Master, he is here. Shall I see him here?”

His eyes falter from you to glance at the thrall. “You may. Clear the halls on your way out. I expect not a single interruption from anyone while he works. I trust you’ll let the others know of the agonizing centuries to follow if my request is disobeyed.” Though his voice was firm, there was a hint of fear masked beneath the threats. Fear of what fate awaits his lover, fear of what has yet to come, fear of the unknown.

“Yes, master.” She agreed before swiftly seeing her way out. There were no games when it came to Astarion and she did not wish to be in his line of fire if the matter at hand didn’t resolve to his liking.

Astarion steps up to the bed, stroking disheveled pieces of hair from your sunken face. “He is here, my treasure.” Soft words were met with a weak nod, eyes shut in an attempt to stop the spinning you felt in your head. An unwelcome thought made its way into his mind, which he hastily pushed down as far as he could. A corpse you began to resemble.

A tall lanky man makes his entrance. Dressed in a robe that looked centuries too old, wiry hair wisped from the sides of a misshapen ignoble hat, and shoes that seemed to be worn through the soles. He looked every bit a beggar who Astarion would pay no mind to under typical circumstances. Magic radiated in powerful lulls from the stranger, an aura of importance despite his unseemly appearance. “Sir Ancunin, a pleasure.” The man regards him nasally, though his eyes are fixed on you. They seemed to scatter over your frail body in assessment. “May I?”

Edvund Luoguarde. Every piece of unbiased literature regarding dhampirs Astarion had managed to scrounge up had been written by the man in front of him. Not a stone was left unturned in search of the scholar; all the while he had been holed up in a makeshift home on the edge of Rivington. The notoriety Edvund possessed had not affected his simple way of life. It was something Astarion might have found humor in if he had come across the strange man under different conditions. The man slinks towards the bed once Astarion approves, lips pursed as he looms over your unmoving figure.

“Poor child, barely hanging by a thread.” Edvund muses out loud. While there is empathy in his words, the firmness spoke to the weight they held. Astarion eyes his hand cautiously as it comes to hover over your midsection. “I will need her on her back.” He states. “Are you able to move, dear?”

Your eyes open barely a sliver in response. You open your mouth to respond but your voice is lost to the dry ache in your throat and on your tongue. Looking to Astarion in a silent bid for help, he obliges by carefully moving your body into position.

“This will do nicely. You’re doing wonderful, dear.” Edvund reassures. He places his hand on your clothed stomach, a pale blue light illuminating from his palm. His eyes bear the same blue light as he stares distantly at the wall. “Very interesting.” He murmurs after a few minutes pass, but does not remove his hand. It shifts purposefully from your sacrum up towards your ribcage. It was a brief moment of relief, as if whatever magic he yielded offered numbing to the visceral blows you had been experiencing.

Edvund removes his hand and the light in his eyes flickers in tandem. “You would be wise to rest while you can.” He pats the hand that lay lifelessly at your side. Unsure if it was a trance or from the fleeting comfort you finally had after three days of torture, you drifted away. The man turns his attention to Astarion once he’s sure you’re asleep. “A dhampir of not one, but two.” He riddles. “To be born of fruitful womb and abject seed. To shed light as great as thee.”

“What in the hells are you saying?” Astarion’s brow creased. It seemed more likely that Edvund was reciting poetry rather than providing a diagnosis.

“A dhampire of not one but two; to be born of fruitful womb, abject seed. To shed light as great as thee. Cast darkness into light, and light into lead. A union thick as thieves.” His hands move in an unfounded performance, fingers coming to lock in front of his chin once he is finished. “A prophecy greater in age than you or I.” He clarified, bringing his hands to rest on the edge of the bed. “It was foretold a pair of dhampirs would be born to a pure soul and a heinous….” He trails, eyeing Astarion before continuing. “They will materialize to our plane of existence. The gods have willed it so and so it will be.”

“Are you suggesting there are two?” Astarion’s jaw clenched as he eyes Edvund. “Remove them.”

“I cannot.” Edvund was unphased by Astarion’s aggressive demand, instead he stared him down with the same determined look in response.

“You will. This will kill her. Are you mad?”

“She will recover.” Edvund muses, looking back down at your sleeping form; no doubt the most divine rest you’ve had in your life with the help of his own magic.

Astarion steps around the foot of the bed, making his way toward the man with a fire blazing in his red eyes. Edvund glances at him, whispering a quiet incantation that seemingly relaxed every nerve in Astarion’s body. In a daze, he sits limply in the chaise at the end of the bed. He felt powerless. For the first time in his many years, he was indeed. Completely, utterly, entirely not in control.

Edvund steps in front of him, crouching until he is eye-to-eye with him. “You’ve felt this is destiny, yes? You and the girl?”

Astarion feels that blaze return, but it is quickly simmered once more. Edvund effortlessly defies his rage, pouring his own magic into keeping Astarion sedated. “Get out of my head.” Astarion murmurs, gritting his teeth uncomfortably.

Edvund proceeds; he already knew the answer to his question. “You do not want to anger the gods, Sir Ancunin. This has been foretold. Of course, nothing is stopping you from finding someone else to get the job done; I for one will have no part of it. I’d rather not deal with the wrath of any all powerful deity, let alone all of them. I suggest you heed this warning. It will not be pretty if you interfere.” He purses his lips tightly, furrowing his fluffy brows together as he speaks.

Astarion’s mind felt convoluted as the reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was bigger than you or him, but he refused to stand by and watch you crumble.

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of destiny as Astarion grappled with the revelation. Edvund's cryptic warnings and the ominous prophecy left Astarion torn between the fate dictated by higher powers and the desperate need to protect you. The clash of emotions within him mirrored the conflict that unfolded in the dimly lit chamber.

Astarion's eyes, once ablaze with defiance, now flickered with uncertainty as he considered the implications. The revelation of a dual heritage, the prophecy, and the insistence on non-interference pressed upon him. Yet, the fierce love he felt for you surged as a counterforce, compelling him to challenge the preordained path.

The room bore witness to a silent struggle—one man navigating the treacherous waters of divine prophecy, the other tethered to the mortal realm by love's unyielding grip. As Edvund continued his mystical work, Astarion's internal turmoil mirrored the external tension, a tempest brewing in the shadow of fate.

In the midst of this cosmic chess game, your frail form lay suspended, caught between realms. A pawn in a game played by unseen hands, her fate intricately woven into the fabric of prophecy. The dichotomy of despair and determination etched across Astarion's face painted a poignant picture of a soul at war with itself.

The room, once a sanctuary for quiet moments and stolen glances, now bore witness to a profound struggle that transcended the mortal and the divine. It was a clash of wills, a dance of destiny, and a tableau of emotions that would shape the course of lives entwined in a tapestry woven by forces beyond mortal comprehension.

“The gods have orchestrated this all, Astarion.” Edvund loosened the invisible grip he had on Astarion, allowing a sliver of distance between them as he stood. “I’d heard of you, you know. The ruthless vampire lord.” Edvund quirks his head. He didn’t need to say it aloud as it was unspoken; love had made Astarion soft in a lot of ways. Specifically for you, but for the way you lived life as well. The way you simply loved.

For a brief moment, Astarion wondered if you would have been anything more than a meal and quick fuck without the interference of higher powers. He couldn’t dwell on the thought, though. It made him sick to think about.

Edvund's words cut through the tangled web of Astarion's conflicted thoughts. The acknowledgment of his reputation as a ruthless vampire lord served as a stark reminder of the life he led before you entered it. The juxtaposition of his past and the vulnerability that love had brought forth in him loomed over the room.

As Astarion grappled with the unsettling realization, Edvund's gaze lingered on him, a silent understanding passing between them. The enigmatic scholar seemed to grasp the intricacies of Astarion's transformation, not just as a vampire but as a being touched by the profound force of love.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m not really in the mood for chit chat.” Astarion replied back coldly, his eyes stone as he looked at Edvund. Edvund held his hands up in a show of understanding.

“I’d better get going. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but see to it that she rests adequately. There will be days where she feels like she can conquer the world, but she mustn’t overexert herself.” Edvund states as he walks towards the door. He leaves with a parting reassurance. “She will live. The gods are not as cruel as you would believe them to be right now.”

With that, Astarion sat alone. The air hung thick with magic and tension.

Astarion's gaze remained fixed on your slumbering form, the delicate rise and fall of your chest a comfort amidst the tumult within him. The cold, stoic exterior he had worn for centuries cracked, revealing the vulnerability that love had etched into his undead heart.

As he sat in the quiet chamber, a myriad of emotions churned within Astarion—fear, love, defiance, and an unsettling acceptance of the cosmic forces at play. The room, once a witness to stolen moments of intimacy, now bore witness to a solitary figure grappling with the intricacies of mortality and the influence of gods.

Time seemed suspended in that moment, the force of the future pressing down on Astarion. The journey ahead, fraught with uncertainties and divine machinations, loomed large. Yet, in the hushed solitude of the room, Astarion found a quiet resolve to face the impending challenges.

The vampire lord, once driven solely by self-preservation, now stood on the precipice of a destiny entwined with love and sacrifice. As the shadows deepened and the room embraced its newfound solitude, Astarion remained a sentinel, guarding not only the frail form on the bed but also the fragile threads of a fate spun by gods themselves.

[pablitogavii]

Massage

I saw that Gavi didn't play today due to some back problems so there was an idea that sparked in my mind. Hope you enjoy the story more than the game :)

Pablo was in very much a bad mood after the game not even wanting to eat dinner but going straight to the hotel room with you.

Even after the virus outbreak, Pablo hasn't really felt all that well during training his back hurting him lots afterwards.

"He should have put me in!" Pablo said while laying in the bed staring at his phone and probably all the horrible comments from disappointed fans.

"He knows best amor.." you say knowing that Xavi just wanted to make sure Pablo recovers before El Classico and the beginning of the season.

"5:3! They humiliated us!" Pablo spat tossing his phone to the side and running his hands through his hair in frustration. You finished brushing your teeth and joined him in bed taking his phone and putting it on charge for tomorrow.

"I'm sorry you lost amor..and although there isn't much I can do about that, I might be able to help with your back?" you moved closer to him kissing his lips and then don his jaw and neck and he smiled nodding his head.

"Fix me doctora.." Pablo smirked and you blushed knowing how much he adored that you wanted to be a doctor in the future and always called you 'a rockstar' because of it.

"Lay on your stomach amor." you say and he moved closer kissing your lips with a little bit more force.

"Mm it's my favorite position when you're on your stomach princesa.." he whispered into your ear making your face burn in embarrassment as you slapped his shoulder and told him to stop messing around.

He finally stopped teasing you, and went to lay down after taking off his t-shirt. You grabbed some lotion and began massaging his back gently not applying to much force as to not hurt him further.

"How is this amor??" you ask after a few minutes hearing Pablo moaning in pleasure glad that he was relaxing and you could help in any way.

"Sooo good princesa..gracias" he said and you smiled leaning down and kissing the back of his neck which made goosebumps appear on the skin of his arm and that made you smirk.

"Are you cold Pablito...or am I making you feel too good??" you whisper into his ear seeing his smirk grow as he grabbed you with his strong arms flipping you over and hovering above you.

"it's not such a good idea to tease me when I'm angry preciosa.." his voice was low and so freaking sexy that you felt your mind scream at you to pull him down and kiss his lips..and you did just that.

"Or what?" you challenge seeing his eyes darken in lust as his hands gripped your thighs so tightly there will definitely be marks left in the morning.

"Or I will thank you for fixing my back by breaking yours.." he smirked kissing your neck as you moaned into his ear and snaked your legs around his torso..maybe there is another way to make your boy relax tonight.

"Are you sure you're in the mood for this right now??" And your back?" you asked after about fifteen minutes of heated make out session you shared and Pablo only smirked more.

"I'm always in the mood for you princesa.." he winked "but you're right, I should rest my back.." he said chuckling when he saw your disappointed eyes.

"So come here.." he flipped you back this time laying back and having you straddle his lap while moving his hands behind his head.

"Um.." you were shy when it came to intimacy only ever doing it with Pablo and usually being the one he dominates. But now he wanted you to take charge and that was a bit scary.

"Now you're going to be a good girl for papi..and ride him..while he rests his back" Pablo's voice was dark and your cheeks were red but you only nodded leaning in and kissing his lips again while you discarded each other's clothes piece by piece.

"J..joder amor! Keep bouncing like that!" Pablo's voice was raspy and it only turned you on more while you moved on his cock moaning when he gripped your ass making himself go even deeper.

"My good girl! My best girl! Making me feel so much better after a loss! F..fuck! I'm keeping you with me forever! Mine! All fucking mine!" he spoke nod moving his hips to match yours speeding up his pace until you both were chasing your orgasms.

"Oh..My..God..Pablo! I'm gonna cum baby..p.please" you were pleading and he loved to hear it grabbing your hair pulling it back while sucking on your neck which was enough to send you over your edge together with him.

While you were both catching your breath, you fell on top of him and he held you there as you listened to his even heartbeat. You tried to move but he wouldn't let you holding you against himself tightly.

"Let me stay inside of you amor..fuck I need this so badly!" he groaned and you blushed nodding your head and getting more comfortable leaving a few wet kisses on his hot skin.

"I love you so much Pablito!" you sigh finally calming down feeling yourself getting sleepy. Pablo kissed the top of your head holding you tightly with his strong arms.

"And I love you mi chica perfecta.." he replied before you both fell asleep as close to each other as possible enjoying the shared warmth you felt.

It was a sad loss :( Better luck next time!

[delusionalfanficwriter]

burn

“Y/N, we can’t discharge you until we know you are going to be taken care of at home. You can’t handle this by yourself.” Dr. Meed told me as I lay against the hospital bed. 

“Doc, all due respect, I can clean and change the bandages myself. There’s not need to worry anyone.” I try to convince him but I can see him not caving. 

“You’ve been here for almost 2 days and I am pretty sure you didn’t even tell anyone what happened. You don’t have a place to go to as far as I know. So I will not discharge you until I see someone in person who tells me that they will be there for you. You can be out as early as tomorrow morning.” I watch him say before making his way out of my room. I sigh and close my eyes knowing the repercussions if I make the inevitable call. Thinking strategically of a list of people, I figure out who I am going to call. 

As the phone rings, I come up with a script, but it all leaves my head when the voice on the other end answers. “What do I owe this pleasure, Y/N?” 

“Hey, O’Hara, just wondering what you are up to tomorrow?”

“Planning on getting a coffee and furniture shop for the apartment. Want to join? I haven’t seen you since our game a few days ago.”

“I would love to, but I have a favor to ask you.” 

“No, you can’t drive my car or go to the animal shelter. You remember how emotional you got leaving the animals behind.”

She’s not exaggerating and I laugh at the memories. “No, Kel, I actually need you to pick me up.”

“Obviously dummy. You don’t have a car,” 

“From a different location.”

“So secretive. Where is this location I am picking you up from?” She asks, fully curious as if I am giving her tea.

“The hospital downtown.”

“Y/N… why would I be picking you up from there?” I pick at the blanket laying on top of me. 

“Something happened and I ended up here but I am okay. I promise. They just won’t discharge me without confirming someone can come pick me up and care for me.”

“Y/N!!! Why didn’t you call me sooner? What happened? You know what, I am on the way. We will talk.” She frantically yells on the phone before hanging up. I close my eyes hoping to get some shut eye before she storms in here. I groan as I hear my phone constantly vibrate and see messages from both my Gotham FC teammates and USWNT asking what happened and if I am okay…I’m going to kill O’Hara.

A half hour passes and soon enough not only is Kelley coming through my door but Kristie, Ali, and Sonnet. 

“What happened?!” Ali asks, approaching carefully looking at any damage she might find.

“I’m okay. My apartment caught fire and I got burnt in the process, nothing crazy.” I act as if everything is fine.

“Nothing crazy?! Y/N, you have burns!” O’Hara whisper yells. 

“Wait, Y/N, when was this?” Kristie observed knowing well enough I hate bothering people. 

I bite my tongue and whisper, “2 days.” That’s when all hell broke loose. 

The hospital room was filled with a cacophony of concerned voices as Ali, Kristie, Sonnet, and Kelley vented their anger and frustration at the situation. I couldn't help but wince at the onslaught of their emotions, but their presence meant the world to me. They were like a protective shield, ready to battle any adversity, even against their teammate's stubbornness.

"Y/N, how could you not tell us?" Ali's eyes blazed with intensity, a reflection of her passion on the soccer field. "We're your teammates, your friends. You can't just hide something like this."

Sonnet's voice, though calmer, was no less concerned. "And now you're telling us it's 'nothing crazy' when you have burns from a house fire? But two days in a hospital is not nothing.”

As we continue going back and forth, Dr. Meed, returned to my room with a surprised look on his face. He had probably expected a more difficult situation based on our previous conversation.

"Y/N, it looks like you have a support system in place," he remarked, a hint of approval in his voice.

I nodded, feeling grateful for the incredible people who had come to my aid. "Yes, doctor. They're going to make sure I'm taken care of."

Dr. Meed assessed the room, noting the presence of Kelley, Ali, Kristie, and Sonnet. "Well, I believe we can arrange for your discharge tonight if you got this team to care for you. I can have the nurses prepare your medications and instructions. You'll need to follow up with your primary care physician within a week."

My heart swelled with relief at the news. I had been eager to leave the sterile environment of the hospital.

"Thank you, doctor," I said, genuinely appreciative.

Dr. Meed nodded and started discussing my care instructions with the group. They listened attentively, taking notes and asking questions to ensure they were fully prepared.

Kelley stepped forward and shook the doctor's hand. "We've got it from here, doc. Thanks for taking care of her."

The doctor smiled, his demeanor much lighter now. "You're welcome. And you take care of yourself, Y/N."

… … … … … … … … … … … … 

Kelley left me no choice but to move into her apartment until I recovered and since Sonnet was visiting her, they figured two pairs of eyes and hands were better than one when it came to me. They had a routine set from the moment I left the hospital and today is a new day. Teammates have been stopping by and visiting. I laughed and smiled through every encounter after I got a talking to about hiding my injuries. 

“Is Y/N getting a little tired?” Lynn said as I seem to be drifting off. 

“Seems like it. She has had a long first day out of the hospital.” Kelley says and excuses the company in the room and says goodbyes to them and I mutter a goodbye as well. As they leave, Sonnet gets a new set of bandages ready for my legs as Kelley gets my antibiotics and pain meds. 

Sonnet carefully peeled off the old bandages, her touch delicate but precise. The adhesive clung to my skin, making it an uncomfortable experience. As she pulled the bandages away, my breath caught in my throat, and I bit down on my lower lip to stifle any cries of pain. I could feel the slight tug and sting as the bandages left my raw, sensitive skin.

Kelley, sitting by my side, offered an empathetic smile. "We're almost through this part, Y/N," she assured me, her fingers lightly tracing circles on my forearm.

Sonnet continued her work, unwrapping each bandage with the utmost care. Her face was a mix of concentration and sympathy as she revealed the burns on my legs. When the fresh bandages came into contact with my wounded skin, a sharp wave of pain coursed through me, causing me to clench my fists tightly.

"Easy, Y/N," Kelley murmured soothingly, her hand slipping into mine and offering a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing great."

Sonnet nodded in agreement, her expression filled with understanding. "We're trying to be as gentle as possible, but I know it's still painful. Just a bit more, okay?"

I mustered a nod, grateful for their presence. The pain was a reminder of the challenging journey I was on, but the unwavering support of my teammates made it bearable. Sonnet continued her task, her movements swift and precise.

Once the bandage change was complete, Kelley handed me the antibiotics and pain medications. She watched me closely as I swallowed the pills, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and care.

As I leaned back against the pillows, Kelley and Sonnet took their seats beside me.

Fatigue threatened to overtake me, I clenched my eyes shut, resisting the pull of sleep. I knew that once I closed my eyes, the nightmares would return, vivid and tormenting. The darkness had become my enemy, and my reluctance to face it was exhausting.

Kelley noticed my struggle and squeezed my shoulder gently. "Y/N, you need to get some rest," she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

I nodded, my lips forming a weak smile. "I know, Kel. It's just... the nightmares. I can't handle them."

Sonnet shifted closer, her touch soft and reassuring. "We won’t leave your side, Y/N.”

Despite their comforting words, the fear of what awaited in my dreams persisted. The mere thought of reliving the traumatic experience made my heart race. I bit my lip, fighting back the anxiety that threatened to consume me.

Kelley's fingers brushed a strand of hair from my forehead, and her gaze met mine. "Y/N, you're not alone in this. We'll be here to wake you up if those nightmares come knocking. But you need sleep, okay? You've been through so much."

I nodded, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. The room seemed to blur as my eyelids drooped. Sonnet's hand still rested on my knee, and she leaned in, her voice a soothing lullaby. "Close your eyes, Y/N.”

As much as I resisted, I couldn't hold onto consciousness any longer. My eyes closed, and I was plunged into the unsettling abyss of sleep.

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday 🔥

I was tagged in various games over various days and I want to say a big thank you to all who tagged me. Love you all and loved all your snippets! 😘

I’ve had stuff to share this week but it’s pretty much all smut from chapter ten of Rival Firefighters 🚒 and well, I decided to wait until today to really put the fuck in Fuck it Friday … so hope you enjoy!

Prev snippet here

Eddie slowly begins to move, thrusting gently to allow Buck time to acclimate to the sensation of his cock. Buck mewls as he tries to fuck himself onto Eddie’s cock, but the grip Eddie has on his hips is preventing him from getting what he wants.

"Eddie, please," Buck begs, his voice coming out like a sob. “Harder. Fuck me, make me yours."

The words have a possessive snarl rippling through Eddie as he pulls back before thrusting forward hard, his hips slamming into Buck's rounded ass with a force that sends Buck’s body jolting forward as he cries out in pleasure. His inner walls clamp down around Eddie, sending jolts of electricity through them both.

"Fuck, Buck," Eddie growls, his hands gripping Buck's hips harder and holding him steady while he fucks into him like a man possessed. He watches in satisfaction as Buck’s ass jiggles when his hips smack against him again and again. "You feel so fucking good."

Buck moans in response, his hands gripping the sheets tighter, knuckles turning white as his body trembles with every thrust. The smell of sex fills the air, a heavy scent that permeates the room like a heady perfume as their bodies move together, mattress creaking under their weight, adding to the sensual symphony of skin slapping against skin and the soft moans and gasps escaping from Buck’s lips as he thrusts back against Eddie.

Eddie feels stripped raw, like he is nothing but primal alpha male instincts, focused on nothing else aside from fucking and claiming. He trails a hand down Buck’s sweat slick back and up into his hair, grabbing a fist full and tugging Buck’s head back roughly as he continues to fuck into him.

“This what you wanted, baby?”

“Yes!” Buck shouts, his voice hoarse with desire as he arches his back to meet Eddie's thrusts with increasing desperation. “Ah fuck!”

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @tizniz @wikiangela @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @evanbegins @epicbuddieficrecs @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @sibylsleaves @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @dangerpronebuddie @donationwayne @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @nmcggg @captain-hen @bekkachaos @bigfootsmom @princessfbi @weewootruck @wackybuddiemewbs @shitouttabuck @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz and as always, anyone who wants to join in -> consider this your official tag!

[house-strong]

— TWO IS BETTER than one ʾ ⋆

summary ; requested by anon.

“Can i request Jacaerys x reader x Lucerys like poly relationship, but at first they're enemies?”

pairing ; jacaerys velaryon x reader x lucerys velaryon

notes ; for the sake of this fic, jace and luke are nearly the same age. reader is the daughter of some house that was previously sworn to house hightower,, jace is more the enemy and luke is a lovesick fool who can’t choose between hating you or worshipping you,, kinda more of the boys arguing about you but if you want a part two i’d be more than happy to oblige c: this sucks i’m sorry LMAO also unrevised i wrote this at work :/

jacaerys velaryon was a boy grown who had known what being an unmarried prince meant. it meant that he would be used, at the very least, as a pawn for the chessboard known as the game of thrones. he would marry a girl, any girl, in order to soften the relations between friend and enemy and bring further peace throughout the realm.

he just hadn’t thought it would’ve been someone so close to the traitorous band that once called themselves the greens.

despite his mother winning the trust of the realm, he still felt a strange resentment churning within him as she accepted their word of fealty. if they could turn their back on their kings word, why should she trust the word of a conspirator?

alas, rhaenyra had presented jacaerys with a match that would sweeten the lords of the southernmost part of the realm. he was less than thrilled to learn about it and loathed the day that the day of marriage grew closer.

“lady (y/n), it’s a pleasure to house you in king’s landing whilst we prepare for your wedding.” it’s the queen rhaenyra who speaks to you. her eyes are soft, yet her words commanding and full of strength. “when the time comes, you and prince jacaerys will set sail for dragonstone.”

“thank you, your grace,” you speak, eyes blinking and head dipping downward as a sign of respect. “i hope i’m not a disappointment to my prince, your grace.”

your gaze sweeps across the great hall and lands on the head of brown hair who was the tallest, you assumed this was prince jacaerys. he looks at you with a hardness in his jaw.

when he realizes it’s his turn to speak, “not at all, my lady.” his words are mixed with truth and duty; words that he’s conjured up on a thoughtful whim as to not offend his family or yours. he feels dismay proliferating in his chest, spurning molds of regret in his belly and leaving distaste in his mouth.

his brother, lucerys, seemed more akin to liking your presence as a furious blush has taken hold of his cheeks and he’s sticking his chest out proudly. jacaerys was sure he would’ve been more festive if the lady was married to his younger brother. then again, jacaerys didn’t really like traitors of the realm.

“jacaerys, lucerys, would you two be kind as to show the lady (y/n) around the red keep?”

jacaerys is the first to give his mother a pointed look, compared to lucerys, who looked more giddy and content at this command. instead, a huff leaves his nose and he approaches you, except lucerys reaches you first and he’s visibly eager to lead you. you take his hand tentatively and allow him to guide you.

whatever discomforts jacaerys felt, lucerys felt the exact same, but it was rather forgotten as the younger prince was enamored with your appearance. you walked with a certain grace, had a pretty voice, and you smelt of raspberries and something else he couldn’t put a name to.

“lady (y/n),” lucerys says, rather too happily as he begins to lead you through the grandeur of the red keep. his voice quivers with a certain nervousness and his hair is ruffled like a birds feathers. “how do you like it here? in kings landing, i mean.”

“she’s been here for all of five hours, i’m sure she doesn’t have an opinion yet.” both you and lucerys turn your head to glance at jacaerys. his brows shoot up, almost as if challenging you both to deny it.

you smile and duck your head, jacaerys’ comment long forgotten, “it’s far more grand than what i’m used to, my prince, but it’s a beautiful place.” jacaerys wrinkles his nose at your comment – kings landing was the farthest thing from beautiful.

“if you’re in awe of this grandeur, i’m sure you’ll find dragonstone more attractive.” it’s jacaerys who speaks again, his voice evident from behind the bodies of you and lucerys. the latter seems to peek behind him and send him a glare, though you pretend not to notice.

“i’ve heard rumors about dragonstone is the new.. valyria, is that true?” you ask, turning your head a moment to glance at the brunette haired prince behind you. “so many dragons, one could think its from a composition in a book.”

lucerys turns his head to give you a lopsided grin, “we’ll show you one day– i mean, he will show you one day.”

the warmth from your arm being held suddenly disappears and you notice lucerys flail about. you turn, eyes widening and brows shooting up as you observe what’s going on. you assume that jacaerys has pulled lucerys by the coat, for the younger brother is fixing his clothing and glaring at his older brother. they both stare at each other, gaze fixated.

jacaerys thought lucerys was a fool drunken on the euphoria of your beauty. yes, he was also taken aback when he first saw you, but being pretty doesn’t excuse the fact that your family betrayed law and broke faith with the oath of fealty sworn to his mother. jace wants to smack him upside the head and remind him of this betrayal.

jace suddenly remembers his manners in the presence of a lady, “if you’ll excuse us, my lady, my brother and i have something important to discuss.”

you look between the two, their gazes never averting from one another. you nod your head and curtsy, softly breaking the pause with two phrases of ‘my prince.’ if tucking tail and running was the best thing to do, you were doing that now.

“what was that?” jace’s voice is full of annoyance and more rebuke than he had intended. luke, despite knowing that his brother was just being a jerk, takes it to heart. luke’s facade cripples slightly and his brows knit together.

luke points a finger accusingly at jace, “me? what’s with you?” jacaerys scoffs and swats luke’s finger away from him. the hardness in his jaw is back and his eyes are lit with blackened fury.

“she’s our enemy.”

“she is your betrothed,” luke shoots back almost immediately. jace tuts and crosses his arms. he paces back and forth as if he’s thinking of some way to rebuttal what luke says. maybe it was the brotherly rivalry that pushed him to say something back, but nonetheless, jace felt annoyance pricking at his skin like little needles. “it’s not like she was in the wrong, it was her family.”

“doesn’t change the way i feel about it,” jace says, tilting his head to the side while luke shakes his head in disagreement.

luke contemplates for a moment, his forefinger and thumb grasping his chin as he looks down. there’s a silence that settles over the boys before luke looks up.

“doesn’t change that she’s the fairest lady at court.”

both the boys look at each other again, annoyance and irritation long forgotten. they both begin to laugh and jace approaches luke, slinging his arm around his brother.

“i ‘spose that’s true.” without a second word, jace pulls luke into a headlock and begins to ruffle his hair. luke flails wildly and tries to overpower his brother, but his elder brother is both stronger and taller. luke is grunting in frustration, trying to wiggle away from jace’s hold. when luke escapes, they both laugh and begin walking in the direction you went.

“maybe i’ll ask mother to betroth her and i instead,” luke says teasingly, casting a side ways glance at his brother. jace gives him a look and before he can swat at his brother or make a comment, luke begins sprinting down the hallway.

jace shakes his and takes off running after him. he didn’t like the idea of sharing his things, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

[chanlix-honey]

The Attention You Deserve (I.N.)

WARNING: smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, choking, crying, jeongin being a tease and we’re here for it, (light) degrading,,,meaning MINORS DNI!! Please and thank you!!!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: HAPPY ROCK-STAR DAY EVERYONE!!! In honor of the new album release, I have decided to post the full one shot I teased a few days ago. This is my first skz smut post!! Pls be gentle!

Read at your own risk! Again, minors DNI. Enjoy!

“Let’s play a game, hm?” he pulls off the blanket that’s covering your sex, and your pleasured smell pulsates the room. “Since you wanted to be a bad girl, daddy’s going to correct this for you.” He brings your soaked hands to his mouth to lick the pleasure off of you. “I’m going to give you the night of your life. Maybe even the best. And you’re not going to cum once.” He tugs at your shirt, asking you to take it off. You do so obediently. “Good girl.” He plunges two of his fingers into your wet cunt.

“You obey me—and quickly—daddy rewards you. If you don’t listen..well,” You moan, the length of his fingers not giving you any let up. “I’m thinking of fucking you until I cum. How does that sound my dumb baby?” He chuckles, giving you a sly smile.

You couldn’t help yourself. Jeongin has been coming home from work later and later these days. He does his best to let you know that he and the boys won’t be done for some time, but he is an idol after all. He always has something to do. If it’s not vocals with his teacher and Seungmin, it’s practice with Danceracha, or executing lyrics with Channie-hyung (his favorite nickname for Bangchan, that he has passed down to you. Though he doesn’t like telling him in person).

When you text him throughout the day how excited you are for movie night, he can’t help but feel bad to try and remember the last time you and him spent time together. This would be good to get some of that quality time that you were both missing. And to treat you deliciously tonight. He misses your moans and your pussy, so he hopes to make up for it too. He feels his cock twitch at the thought of being coated in your juices and filling you up. He shakes the thought away to make sure he’s not sporting a hard-on before he goes back to Minho leading practice and replies to you. Be sure to wear that purple lace for Daddy tonight, I want to treat you to dessert…be a good girl and wait for me until I get home to give you the attention you deserve.

And tonight isn’t any different. You order pizza for the two of you once he texts you that he’ll be home in an hour—in hopes that the cheesy dinner arrives just as he does. By the time he comes home, he’s too tired for the weekly rom-com-roasting movie night that you and him had planned. He greets you with a good evening forehead kiss and lets you know that he’s going to take a little nap before you get the movie queued up. You smile at his sweet gesture, but can’t help to notice that your heart pangs at the kiss, disappointed that his lips missed yours.

Thirty minutes pass by. Then an hour. You continue to stare at your phone, as the screen is the only thing illuminating the room. You turned off the tv fifteen minutes ago. The barely-eaten pizza stares at you, as the box is only slightly open. You dejectedly scroll through TikTok, skipping fan edits of your boyfriend performing on the multitude of stages all over the world. You skip all, except one. A fan edit of his teasing lip-licking moments on stage, and the pit of your stomach feels engulfed by the flames of arousal. You let the video play once. Twice. Three times. Before you know it, your fingers are rubbing your clit to the ever-playing fan edit, desperately wishing your hand was his mouth and that teasing tongue.

“Ah, ah, daddy~” you mumble. You wouldn’t dare wake him up with your lewd sounds. Last time you made a mistake—let’s just say you couldn’t get out of bed the next day and a half.

Yet, your voice fails you and you squeak when you accidently pinch your clit, and your body shivers. You choke at your clumsiness and tears roll off your cheeks. Daddy-! You tremble, just about to cum.

Consumed in your pleasure, you don’t hear your boyfriend getting up from bed. He woke up from his nap just before you made the terrible decision to play with yourself. First, he heard you watching tiktoks—specifically the one that aroused you in the first place. And then he heard it again..and again. Like you stopped scrolling. Then, he started hearing your pretty little moans. Once he arrived in the phone-illuminated living room, he put the pieces together. He had actually been standing around watching you as he heard your cute little whimpers begging for a release. It seems that you weren’t as quiet as you thought.

“My, my, babygirl..did the words ‘wait for me’ slip your mind?” you yelp.

Suddenly, you feel one of his hands snake around your chin to tilt in his direction, and the other pinning your wrists away from you—stopping your movements.

Which is what brings you to this point. Him fucking you on his fingers in slow agony. It was supposed to be a night he was meant to take care of you. And you couldn’t wait until you had his full attention? He was not going to let that slide. Instead of giving you pleasure until your release, he had other ideas in mind.

“Y-yes daddy,” you shiver.

“Oh good, you do listen. Now tell me—” he begins, his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you, stretching you out.

“—What were you thinking when you stopped on that video darling?” He watches you writhe in pleasure. With your pupils blown, your body twitching in response to his oh so slow movements, and your hands grasping at air—pinned down by his large veiny hands at your wrists—he can’t help but look at you like an angel. How gorgeous you are…he thinks, smirking like the fox he is.

“I was thinking..mmh! About your t-tongue inside me daddy—fuck,” you gasp.

“Go on, princess, tell me how much you need me.” He groans. He can feel pre-cum soaking his sweatpants, his cock throbbing for you, begging to be released from the clothed prison.

“So bad. S-so b-bad. Your p-pretty pussy is aching for your mouth inside me ah~”

“You taste so good, daddy can’t help but to make you feel good to taste more of you..” He gropes your breast in one hand while his mouth is on the other, giving your clothed tits most of the attention—still finger fucking you ever so slowly.

You start to see stars. His fingers in you are already too much, despite the pace. How you’ve missed him touching you like this. But he’s slow. Way too slow. It feels like minutes pass before his fingers slip out again. Every second, you feel less than a milimeter’s worth of his two fingers occupy your gummy walls. Yet, you can’t help but take it all in. You’re drunk on his movements, you’d let him do anything to you at this point.

“You even dressed up in the purple lace I love so much,” he thumbs one of your sensitive nipples for it to perk up, pinching at it slightly. You groan, getting frustrated that you haven’t been able to cum yet.

His thumb grazes your clit. Barely even a graze, it’s almost as if his thumb makes contact by accident. It’s not enough to apply pressure, but enough for you to notice he’s toying with you. Making sure you know he’s doing it on purpose. The fucker. He hears you choke on your own breath every time he gives your clit a little bit of attention.

Jeongin coos, high on your moans. He leans in to you. “You think I wouldn’t notice baby? And now you’re on punishment for playing with daddy’s pussy..do you think I’m an idiot that would let you get away with it, slut?”

Biting between your ear and the skin just below it. “F-fuck…” you groan. He hums in success. He knows how you like to be fucked. Your body is very telling, and your voice lets you down everytime. Every frustrated huff, moan, and whine he takes from you. He’s barely doing anything and you’re already such a mess for him. He’s eager to try more, drunk on your fucked out sounds.

Before you know it, a moan slips out from your lips. “D-daddyyy..” you beg. You feel so close. And then, your body echoes to you. The pit of your stomach begins to tighten and your pussy throbs quickly. Tears brim at your glassy eyes, threatening to roll down. You mewl and moan, unable to control the next words to come out of your mouth. “Please! I c-can’t-t. I can’t I can’t I–” he stops. He removes his slender coated fingers from your tightening hole. A squelching sound fills the room.

Then, your heartbeat slows. You begin to catch your breath. Your tears spill. Your mind is not yet clear, but your senses kick in. You whine the moment you feel your cunt clenching around nothing, and you hear tutting. “My baby’s so close..too fucked to hear what I said, hm?”

You pause. No. No, no, no, no. You scramble to give him an answer quickly after you didn’t respond immediately.

“Daddy…mm..no! N-no I didn’t think—” He interrupts you.

“—Hush hush, it’s ok baby. Too blissed out on my fingers to think quickly.” Tears engulf your eyes, being denied a release.

“I’ll fuck you right to correct this behavior, don’t worry. For now, it’s my turn.”

[messyworldfanfictions]

Teasing the Master of Hell

Summary : You're in a teasing mood while Crowley is in a bad mood. What happens when you tease too much and Crowley takes control?

Pairing: Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader

Warnings:  Dom/sub, anal sex, oral sex, cum, punishment, rough sex

A Notes: Hi everyone, this is for my Crowley thirst, hope you’ll like it :) !

The dimly lit interior of Crowley's luxurious penthouse was filled with a palpable tension as you watched the King of Hell pace back and forth, a dark expression etched onto his seductive face. Seated on the plush couch, you observed his restless state with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. It wasn't an everyday sight to witness Crowley in such a mood, and a mischievous idea began to take root in your mind.

"Something troubling you, Crowley?" you inquired with a voice tinged with playful teasing.

He shot you a piercing look, his sharp yellow eyes narrowing. "Don't start with me, Y/N. I have no intention of indulging in your games today."

You chuckled softly, leaning against the cushions. "Oh, come on. Surely you don't expect me to just sit here and watch you sulk. What's got you so worked up?"

Crowley sighed, running a hand through his slicked-back red hair. "It's simply... business. Nothing that concerns you."

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't resist the urge to tease him further. "Business? Well, I've always thought that the King of Hell would have everything under control. Should I be worried?"

He growled under his breath, his growing irritation becoming more evident. "You know, sometimes you miss an opportunity to close that little mouth of yours. I always maintain control, Y/N."

You flashed a mischievous smile, undeterred by his veiled threat. "Oh, I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit. Maybe I could be of service as a distraction."

Crowley halted his pacing and fixed you with an intense gaze. "You want me to use you as a distraction, my dear? Be careful what you wish for."

You raised your chin proudly. "Perhaps I do. And what do you plan to do about it?"

In a swift motion, Crowley closed the distance between you, his hand gripping the back of the couch and his face dangerously close to yours. His anger seemed to have transformed into something entirely different – a predatory glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"You really should learn when to stop, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

Your heart raced, but you held his gaze unflinchingly. "Or what, Crowley? What are you going to do?"

Without warning, he pressed his lips against yours in a ravenous, possessive kiss. Your protest was muffled as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding over your waist as he turned you to face the couch. Your initial defiance faded as you surrendered to the intensity of his touch, the weight of his body against yours.

Crowley ensured your face was pressed against the couch, leaving you completely at his mercy. He gripped your hips, lifting them to give him unobstructed access.

"I'll behave like a gentleman, where would you like me, my little slut?" the demon's breath heated your neck.

"Please, take me from behind," you whispered breathlessly.

« Please, take me from behind." he mimicked you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged, a moan escaping your mouth "Forget your clean language, you're a slut. You want me to fuck you in the ass. Say it, 'I want it in the ass, Crowley'."

"I-I want it in the ass, Crowley... Please. » you begged

With a raging thrust, he entered your tight ass and you cried out in surprise.

"You like this, pissing me off so I fuck you hard, don't you? "You could feel his thin hips slapping against your fleshy cheeks, the sound of your skins echoing in the room.

"Oh yes, Crowley... Harder." You moaned. He increased the intensity and you could feel the pleasure rising, you were about to cum when he pulled back roughly from your ass and grabbed you by your hair to get you off the couch and kneeling in front of him.

"Open your mouth, angel." he sighed as he jerked himself off over your pretty face.

You looked at him lovingly as you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue to receive his demonic seed.

He grunted and came in your mouth, and you swallowed while looking into his yellow eyes. A little of his cum had dripped onto your breasts, so you picked it up with your finger, put your finger in your mouth and started to suck it.

Breathless, Crowley leaned over and kissed you on the forehead. "I love you, you little brat."