#sinfully-stoned | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

utterlyotterlyx · 4 months

Text

The Girl Who Cheated Death

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - There was no one in any universe who would dare to approach you without fear, that is until you meet a certain Shadowsinger. Once stone cold and vicious in your own right, you soon come to realise that perhaps all it takes is a pretty male with hazel eyes to set you free.

Warnings - kinda dark reader, stone cold, lots of sass, swearing, drinking, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of trauma, some subtle sexual tension, everyone being afraid of the reader because she's giving death vibes x

Word Count - 8.9k

Physical descriptions are present in this fic.

Based on this ask! Thank you @cleverzonkwombatsludge for the request 🫶🏻

"Can I offer some criticism?"

"If it's constructive..."

"You're an idiot," the unwinding braid at your side loosened more with each twist of your fingers, and to your right, through the reflection of the recently polished vanity mirror stood Amren, your closest friend that you had gained when you had first moved to the Night Court one hundred years ago.

It had been no accident that you and Amren had met, in fact, she had been the one to seek you out after a rather intriguing show you had directed at Rita's. Amren watched man after man almost break their necks to look at you, the most beautiful resident of the Night Court, and in all of Prythian. Hair that reminded Amren of a black widow swayed behind you in perfectly loose curls, it was sinfully dark and shone in the faelight, shimmering so brilliantly that Amren had thought that threads of silken web were weaved between each glossy black strand.

Amren also remembered the dress you had worn, it was short and tight, the fabric hugged every curve of your body and kissed the thighs that were connected to those incredible taut calves. If looks could kill then the Night Court would certainly fall to its knees.

It wasn't what you looked like that caught Amren's attention, however. It was the way that every single person in that room shrunk away from your stare, a stone iced glare that was void of any life, all that lay in them was ire and boredom, which quite perfectly summed up what you felt about life in general.

The firedrake sought you out, coming by the gallery you had opened in the city which held an array of carefully collected artworks and mysteriously rare antiques, just to get a glimpse of you, to see the one who had been the first to pique her eye in centuries. Amren had not been disappointed by you. There was something about the way you carried yourself that attracted her to your aura, the perfect posture and slightly hooded eyelids that encased walnut orbs that glimmered gold in the sun. That wasn't all, no, it was also the way you spoke, so sultry and dark, but there was a certain elegance your words. A siren luring souls to the darkest depths of the ocean floor.

Rhys had once suggested that you'd never truly age considering you never smiled. That had earned him a rare small quirk of your lip, and he considered it to be his greatest achievement of his life to date.

It had made sense that the Night Court had been the place where you had chosen to settle, it had moulded very well with you, to the point where Day had become an infantile dream that was floating away in your subconscious. Forgotten.

Despite being a collector of sorts, Amren had soon found out just how far your talented talons stretched, you were incredibly well versed in old dialects, ancient symbols and traditions, a talent that Rhys had soon asked Amren to take advantage of since he was too afraid of you to ask you for aid himself.

Seemed as though the terrifying High Lord of the Night Court was actually scared of something.

"How exactly am I an idiot?" Amren enquired with darkened orbs that kept on glancing downward to the scars that littered the bare spine from the licks of Illyrian whips. They were slightly raised and pallid in comparison to the rest of your healthy glowing hue.

Untethering the last of your braid, you ran your nails over your scalp and pulled slightly, shivering at the relief that surged through you as your hair fell unbound down your spine. All the taut tension in your body quickly evaporated. Silently, you turned on your seat to face your friend, "You're asking me to revamp my evil lair to make it more welcoming for your odd little family," you said incredulously and unblinking, "You're an idiot."

Amren wasn't exactly asking you to make your own home more appeasing to the Inner Circle, she simply meant the private office that Rhys had bestowed to you for whenever he needed your help with something, and it had become a place that you frequented often. It was located in the library of the House of Wind so that your nimble fingers had access to all of the books and ancient texts they needed.

The only settling thing about that office was the view of the golden valley of Velaris, of the snow-capped mountains that loomed to the north. Everything else filled any resident with dread. Tall well-loved candles were scattered about the space, cloths stained with millennia old text hung from the ceilings, tomes lay splayed open on the desk and centre table, each depicting some form of terror. To you, your work was fascinating, studying the origins of evil and all of its forms, to others it was petrifying.

It wasn't odd to find the firedrake confined in your apartment, whether you be with her or not, glass of red in hand and reading some sort of research text. Amren often didn't even glace up at you when you entered your own home, all she noticed was your shadow gliding across the room, drowning out the golden candlelight.

"Rhys would spend more time with you if you did. He's actually really insightful, he could help you with your study."

"Why would I want to spend time with him?"

A poor attempt from Amren to try and push you into a monotone civilian life yet again.

"Fine," Amren rolled her coiling silver eyes and tutted, "Are you ready? Rhys doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Irritation was rife in her voice, you clasped a dainty blood diamond around your neck and allowed your shoulders to drop, "I don't particularly care for your High Lord's time." Rhys was not your High Lord and he knew it, he knew that you couldn't be ruled over and would never answer to anyone but yourself. A queen of her own kingdom. But one he very much wanted to keep on his side.

"Y/N," Amren bit, and you too tugged back the smirk that was quaking in the corners of your mouth.

Meeting her fiery gaze in the mirror, you rolled your head to the side in one swooped graceful motion, "I'm teasing, Amren." Rising from the bench before the vanity, you felt the silken hem of your dress brush against your feet. It was a simple garment, black buttoned up fabric, a deep v-neckline that showed the beginnings of your cleavage, short and soft floating sleeves that cuffed above your elbows.

Smirking with approval, Amren moved to the front door of your ornately beautiful apartment, a personal haven of yours that was vastly different to the office at the House of Wind. Brunette carpets thick enough to sleep upon covered the space, the walls were a shade of milked coffee, warm and inviting, and the ceilings were a soft cream and coved with intricate carvings. A large fire bundled into the far wall at the centre of a wall of windows, before it was a onyx seating area of plush deep seated sofas and armchairs.

It was charming. One of the best views of Velaris was from your living room window.

Leaving your home with the click of the lock, you followed after Amren, falling into place beside her as you walked up the winding paths to the House of Wind. The feeling of people's eyes trailing you had become something you'd become rather accustomed to, they were astounded by your beauty, amazed by how someone could look so breath-taking yet so horrifying.

The House of Wind was as it always was, incredibly luxurious in its own right and shivering at your entrance. It wasn't like the house didn't like you, it just struggled to adjust to your energy, it was starkly different to the usual joy it mostly held.

The echoing voices halted when you rounded the corner, your scent of jasmine and sandalwood soaring through the air, infecting their oxygen. Violet eyes appeared before you within a couple of moments, always wary, always laced with the tiniest bit of fear, "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Well," your eyes sliced across the room, absorbing every face and feature and feeling somewhat intrigued by a face you had never seen before. Tall and tan, shadows swirling at his shoulders, large wings that he had mindfully tucked behind his back, and shiny black hair that fell over his forehead. Rhys stood before you waiting for you to speak, your eyes found his and you hummed, tapping your finger against your clothed thigh, "Anything for the firedrake."

A chortled scoff flew from Cassian and Rhys stepped aside slightly to expose you to the general who soon choked on the air, "Something funny, Cass?" Rhys asked with a smirk, he motioned for you to find a seat and make yourself comfortable.

A deep rooted velvet armchair called to you and you moved to it, paying little attention to the hazel eyes fixated upon you. "No, not at all," Cassian sent you a tight-lipped smile which made Nesta grin, enjoying his discomfort nearly as much as you.

Flames danced in your eyes, the fire burning brightly in the fireplace that welcomed your gaze as though it was a mirror. Turning your head, you folded your hands over your thighs, feeling the exposed skin that lay there from the seamless slit in the fabric.

"How about you skip whatever small talk you were going to offer and get to the point, Rhysand?"

Widened pupils possessed Nesta's gaze, she leaned back into her seat and smirked, a wickedly feline feature, and spoke, "I like you."

No words left your lips, you held her gaze and felt your darkness bubble at her determination to withstand your stare, but she soon stood down; though, she continued to watch you, noting your posture and the way you held yourself. Nesta was in awe.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Straight to the point as always, y/n."

"Am I supposed to be anything but?" Rhys sighed, a headache already forming at his temples from your dry sassing. Perhaps he needed some of that powder that Elain had gifted to Azriel last solstice.

The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his hand to rest on Feyre's knee, a sweet gesture, "We need your help with some particular text that none of us can translate. If anyone is going to be able to decipher it then it would be you."

"What text?"

Boredom coiled in your gut, "It's the story of Koschei, we believe that there may be a key hidden within the text that could help us to defeat him." The coil loosened and your eyebrow twitched, and a dark spot to your left caught that millisecond-long expression, sliding back to its master and humming in his ear.

Koschei was a death-god, a personification of evil. To have your hands on such a text would more than aid your research. It would make you infamous in the underworld of Prythian.

"Is it in my office?" Rhys straightened and nodded stiffly; rising to your feet, you brushed down the pleats of your skirt, "I'll take a look."

Before you could move from the room, a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from behind you, beckoning and hesitant. Slowly, you turned around, noticing how Rhys was now standing, "I would like Azriel to help you with this. I believe that your collective talents will be able to decipher the message faster."

Of course. The illustrious Shadowsinger that you had never had the displeasure of meeting. Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court.

"Studies have shown that I didn't ask for your opinion, High Lord," if anyone else had used the mocking tone toward his title they would have been misted on the spot. But not you, never you. Rhys was too afraid that Hell would rise from your ashes and devour the continent if he even tried it.

A cool kiss slithered around your ankle, and when you peered down you found a shadow curling there, caressing your skin and shivering in delight. Your eyes followed the tendril back to its owner who was clearly mentally scrambling to pull his shadow back to the others. Hazel collided with molten gold and you found yourself yearning for the shadow to return.

"I have to insist," his voice wavered and it didn't go unnoticed by you.

Amren sucked in a breath, shrinking further into her spot wedged between Mor and Elain, knowing that she told had told Rhys multiple times to never order you to do anything.

"What do you fear, Rhysand?"

"I think that you'll find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he doubled down and you couldn't blame him, he was an alpha protecting his territory.

Ticking your head to the side, your eyes dragged up his body, and you smirked, a real one that made his blood chill, "Perhaps. But it's in your eyes," not giving him a chance to respond, you turned to Azriel, finding him looking up at you with an almost bewitched possession in his eyes, "Stay out of my way."

Not another word was spoken as you stalked from the room, the only sound being the footsteps of Azriel who had speedily followed after you. Neither of you spoke on the descent down to the library, even that vast space of aged excellence watched you enter; you almost floated across the room, a grace in your steps that Azriel had never seen before, and it had him needing to know more.

How Azriel had never met you astounded him, he would certainly remember a face like yours. It was one that held the power to haunt his dreams.

As promised, the texts had been left on your desk, and you moved to them instantly, tracing your fingers down the bound leather spine and examining the golden embossment, picking apart the symbols in your mind. Rounding the large oaken desk, you pulled the text with you, opening the cover and not even flinching when it thudded against the desktop.

Thick waves fell over your shoulder and you mindlessly tucked them back from where they had originated, not caring about the effect it had on the Shadowsinger who noted how your fingers grazed against your collarbone on its return to the ancient pages before your insightful eye.

"I've never been in here before," a weak attempt to strike up conversation with you. Azriel had heard much about you from Cassian and Rhys, of how awful terrifying you were, how you intimidated every single person that crossed your path and seemingly enjoyed the terror of it.

Azriel understood it, there was something about you that was unnerving, that he could understand why people were uncomfortable in your presence, but he only found himself in wonderment of it.

Without looking up, you turned the page gently and muttered, "Why would you? It's my office."

Displeasure was prominent on your tongue, the taste of it swelled in the muscle but you didn't allow it to be vile, you pulled the bile back and silently choked on it.

Azriel drank in the room, the begging to be lit candles and the large arched windows, the aged tapestries of history that were clearly too valuable to display in your gallery, "The creation of the cauldron," the words pulled you from the text and your gaze narrowed in on the Shadowsinger rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands folded neatly at his back.

"How do you know that?"

The Shadowsinger circled to face you and took a tentative step to the edge of the desk, "I've seen a couple of the same markings in a cave. This is the original?"

"Yes," there were many deplorable things you had taken part in to secure your collection as the most impressive in the entire universe, some things you weren't proud of, others, you were very much so.

"How did you get it?" Azriel admired the piece, a depiction of Prythian's creation that no one would ever guess was as important as it was, all because they couldn't read the first language of the fae.

Sitting back in your seat, you placed your magniscope on the surface, an ornate tool used by curators and researchers alike to read between the lines of existence, and watched him, "There are some things in this world that would make even your blood burn, Shadowsinger."

The way you said his name had a shudder flickering down his spine, your tone was sultry and low, like you knew of his darkness and had decided that it was a star in comparison to whatever lived within you.

A golden glow shrouded the room from the setting sun kissing the mountain peak, it washed over you, its light glittering your skin with shimmer, turning your eyes into burnished gold. The blood diamond around your neck cascaded speckles of its hue across the ceiling, and your chest rise an fell with even, calm breaths.

Forgetting the reason why he stood before you, Azriel allowed himself a moment to examine you, the beautifully loose hair that swam down that perfectly curved spine, the eyes and cheekbones, the full lips and the indents of your collarbone. You were by far the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

The stolen moment wasn't one that escaped your eye, a gentle heat pooled at your cheeks and you had no option but to look away, clearing your throat and pouring your attention back into the text in front of you.

Coiling the magniscope in your fingers, you hovered it over the written symbols on the page, moving it in line with every line and swirl you could see. It was a heavy object, and you hadn't been surprised when Amren had mistook the glass orb as a bookend.

"What do you know of Koschei?" Azriel found a place in the seat opposite you, his shadows danced from his shoulders and began to inch toward you, and he made no move or command to stop them.

"There are many legends," you began, craning your neck to peer at the top of the adjacent page, "Attacking his physical body won't harm him, he has split his soul into parts and placed them in other living creatures or sentient objects. Destroy the objects and you have a better chance of ending him."

Azriel angled himself forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "How do you know that?"

Again, without looking up, you spoke, "When you spend a lot of time in the Underworld of this continent you pick up a few things. You also learn how to decipher the truth from the lies."

Another gentle turn of the page.

The taupe scribing possessed the faintest words written in a pale gold ink, so miniscule that any other magniscope wouldn't be able to see it. Though yours wasn't just any ordinary magniscope, it was forged with the stardust of a fallen star, a star that used to burn the brightest in the northern skies.

"You know of the Underworld?"

For a moment, your gaze flickered upward, golden pools peering through your long thick lashes, "Very well."

It wasn't surprising that you had dabbled in the darkest reality of the continent, your knowledge was not cheap, and it wasn't knowledge that you could gain from books alone. Azriel wondered how many souls you had stripped from the earth on your quest for knowledge, perhaps it would cause his count to pale in comparison.

"I could only imagine what someone would do for this level of knowledge," his voice lingered, questioning, requiring to know every corner of the mind locked within the female in front of him.

"Are you trying to compare body counts, Spymaster? If so, I assume I would be disappointed with your lacklustre attempts."

Then you were back on the text, scribbling words down in the notepad to your left without even glancing to it, focused to the point where no letter strayed from the lines. But you still felt his eyes on you, waiting, scouring your face and trying to figure out why exactly he had never crossed paths with you before considering your occupation.

"Don't you have some doe-eyed damsel to go and rescue?"

Even with the fleeting few minutes spent with the Inner Circle, you saw how Elain Archeron looked at him, all love-sick and hopeful. Elain was a perfectly mundane being, content with all things bright and pretty. It was sickening.

Biting back the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, Azriel shuffled into his seat, seemingly getting more comfortable, "No."

"Shame," you mused, impressing Azriel with how you scribed, analysed and spoke all at the same time. A very powerful mind was dwelling within you, and it had his attention.

Azriel was finding your dry words quite amusing, though he was spending his time sat before you in silence, sketching every inch of your face and body to his memory.

A soft tug pulled at your brows, and if Azriel wasn't fixated upon you then he surely would have missed it. He let a minute pass, a minute where the pace of your analysation quickened alongside the rate of your writing. Again, your hair fell over your shoulder, clearly bothering you but you couldn't move it, not when you were so entranced, and it took all of his will to not do it for you.

Questioning you on your findings, your eyes held a certain twinkle to them as you explained your theory. That Koschei had in fact fractured his soul and implanted the pieces of it within other living creatures and objects, and that to hunt those objects down was the only way to be able to banish him from the world.

"Run and tell your master," you told him after you were done explaining how to find the first host of Koschei's soul, "I'm sure he will be thrilled with your input."

Which was very little, Azriel hadn't done anything other than invade your space and make himself far too comfortable, but he didn't argue, he simply stood from his seat and bowed, taking your hand in his marred digits and raising it to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles and thanking you before leaving you to your silence.

The ghost of his touch lingered on you skin, as did the licks at your calves from the shadows he hadn't cared to reign in upon his exit.

It was then that a small yet foreign warmth pooled in your chest, you rubbed the spot gingerly and sighed, returning to reality and shaking your head back to sense. Finding peace in the confined corners of your mind.

The next instance where you found yourself in Azriel's presence had been one warm afternoon in the library.

Velaris had been scorched by the sun, the summer breezes swept across the city, and you had decided to wear a simple grey dress that afternoon, it was lightweight enough to flow in the gentle caress of the wind but still managed to keep to your usual elegant yet sharp style.

Since that insisted couple of hours in your office a couple of weeks ago, you were ashamed to admit just how much your thoughts drifted to the Shadowsinger you had seen lurking in the corners of your consciousness. The darkness was lingering in the farthest reaches, as if it didn't wish to be discovered by you but couldn't steer itself away.

The ladder beneath your feet creaked as you reached across the shelf, tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you strained slightly, your fingers barely brushing against the spine of the book you needed. A familiar cool presence washed over you, trailing up your skirt and arms and extending from your fingers to remove the book from the shelf and place it in your awaiting grasp.

Peering back to the ground, you saw Azriel stood at the foot of the ladder with his hands resting at his sides; balling the skirt up in your fingers, you used the railing the lower yourself back to the earth and paused in front of Azriel who had a brow quirked in curiosity, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," his voice matched your own but he found himself faltering when you went to walk by him. His voice called out to you, "I just wanted to let you know that we found the first host."

You paused your steps and turned, "And?"

"It's destroyed," and clearly the gravity of it weighed on him, he had to have known that Koschei wasn't exactly going to make the objects easy to destroy, but it still didn't mean that it wasn't traumatising.

Understanding what he meant, at the life he had just taken to protect to continent, you took a step toward him, an olive branch of sorts, "Are you alright?"

Itching with confusion, Azriel nodded slowly, "I didn't think you cared."

You shrugged, nonchalant, and scuffed the heel of your sandal against the floor with your gentle kick, "I don't."

Azriel hummed, a serene grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "I think that you do," Azriel took a step forward and noticed how your back straightened and shoulders rolled back.

The book became plastered to your chest, "Whatever you think is of little concern to me."

Two weeks had passed, two weeks of not only searching for the first host of Koschei thanks to your wildly impressive knowledge, but two weeks of Azriel doing all he could to gain your attention. It had been difficult to see you at Rita's, swaying to the music without a care in the world beside Amren, and not be able to touch the skin that seemed as smooth as honey.

His shadows had been following you, reporting back to him of how you spent your days cooped up in your apartment reading or in your office analysing another ancient text. They reported no men, nothing untoward or damning, they simply whispering to him how pretty you were. They had been bewitched by you, utterly obsessed with everything that you were, and he couldn't blame them.

Turning on the balls of your feet again, you entered your office, leaving the door open in silent permission that Azriel basked in as he followed you inside, "I'm trying to talk to you, y/n."

A soft hum vibrated against your lips. Placing the book once glued to your chest on the centre table of the room, you faced Azriel once more. The office was cold, as was every chamber built below the main infrastructure of the house, and Azriel wondered how you could be so at home within it.

It was entrancing how a room so dark and full of evil texts and passages could make you look so ethereal. The glossed black hair he had often dreamt of running his fingers through was tied back in a loose thick braid, whisps of hair fell from the vines of it and settled over your eyes. Ornate jewellery twinkled in the pale sunlight, swirls of gold encased your fingers and wrists, and a coiled necklace that resembled a scaled serpent glided around the base of your neck.

"What would you like me to say? I did tell you how to find the first host so that you could destroy it. I don't require updates, Azriel," the movement of your tongue as you said his name for the first time had his resolve withering.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so."

Then, as though the sun was blessing the earth after eons of slumber, your lips widened into a grin, one big enough to expose your perfectly white teeth and Azriel felt the dark storm clouds in his soul splinter. A golden threat soared through him, reaching out to you and entwining itself with the thread bristling at your centre.

Sculpted fingers drifted over that spot in your chest that had become increasingly hard to ignore and you inhaled sharply. Azriel's pupils had dilated, they were wide and frenzied, and his hand was outstretched to you.

The smile on your face dropped.

"You're my mate," Azriel nodded at the words you had managed to utter, the same ones that had become lodged in his throat.

Heat prickled at his skin, nerves seeped into his bones. You were so unreadable, and Azriel was scrambling his thoughts to clear so that he may be able to figure out how you felt about it. About being fated to be his.

Azriel had learnt from Amren how unaffectionate you were, how much you hated anyone touching you. It was because of the Illyrian camps you had visited in your younger years where they had thought you a witch, and had punished you for it in a barbaric way; the evidence still lingered on your skin in long angry streaks, and Amren had admitted that night is what spurred on your need to understand the roots of evil.

It was understandable, to spend a lifetime studying the one thing that had ever truly hurt you. For what reason, Azriel didn't know, but he liked to think that it was to cause evil to cower in your presence.

Silence shrouded the room like a disease, infecting and poisoning everything in its path, and Azriel way becoming increasingly worried about how your smile had dropped. Was he truly that repulsive to you? He could only ever dream to be mated with someone like you, someone who welcomed death like an old friend and would entertain it in an eons long waltz, someone who was poised and elegant but so brilliantly lethal that it made even him shudder.

Taking an unsettling step toward you, Azriel loosened a breath when he saw that you hadn't retreated, his eyes were trained on you as he took another step, and then another, until his shadow danced with you own, "I'm your mate."

Rhys and Cassian would be mortified of the news, Azriel was sure that Rhys found you terrifying in the same way that Cassian found Bryaxis. No of that mattered though. Not to him. Not when he now belonged to a female as striking and dangerous as the blood in his veins.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at the proximity, the tendrils connected to his essence peered over his shoulders seemingly apprehensively thrilled that it was you stood before them, "Yes, you are."

Azriel's gaze drifted down to your lips and left dragged back upward to your eyes, "Can I touch you?"

A part of you froze at the desperate question. You hadn't let anyone touch you in years, you couldn't remember the last time you laid with a male or female, you couldn't remember what a simple even felt like. Amren had never even tried to get too close to you let alone anyone else.

In the first vulnerable emotion you had ever let anyone see, you sheepishly nodded, eyes boring into his own and he didn't break his stare as his fingers twitched toward you, ghosting along your skin and melting at the heat they found there. Mindlessly, you shifted when his palm lingered a whisker away from the slope of your neck and his eyes became stitched with concern but softened when you had won the fight against your fear to stand still once more.

Azriel's hand lowered, resting against your skin that was softer than his imagination could ever fathom. His thumb drifted down the column of your throat and you swallowed, hard.

"You don't have to accept this or me," he told you, his voice tantalisingly cooing to you in a hush above a whisper, "But gods, y/n. I really hope that you do."

Azriel saw through you then, through that façade you wore like a medal. And he found what saw to be quite heart-breaking. Stood before him was a woman, one that possessed a brilliant mind and equally captivating beauty, but beneath it all was the girl who was brutalised so badly that she vowed to never allow another person close again.

"You're my mate," you spoke with a certain conviction that hadn't graced your words the last time, Azriel watched your lashes flutter, and he felt his soul singing when those eyes found him again, "I'm not letting you go."

Gracefully, your fingers curled around his wrist, your index finger sleeping just over the faint beat of his pulse, just where his marred flesh faded to memory, "You accept it?"

"I- yes, I do."

Jasmine and sandalwood drowned his lungs, and he would have died happy just to be able to say that he knew what your shampoo smelt like. Papaya and coconuts. He gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, noting how much you loved the feeling of it as you shivered in his arms. Azriel pressed a dainty but tender kiss to your brow, and it had you realising that maybe you were allowed to give yourself this one thing that the younger version of you had always dreamt of.

Azriel hadn't tried to push you further, he knew that the moment of allowing someone to touch you, to hold you, was far more momentous than finding your mate.

Instead he asked you a simple question, it was more of an offering than anything. To spend time together away from the prying eyes of his family, so that you may become comfortable with one another before allowing anyone else into it. You had agreed. Eagerly.

So the next few weeks drifted by, afternoon walks along the Sidra, morning breakfast drop-offs at your office, after hours visits to the gallery where you would tell him of your adventures and how on some occasions you barely survived. Azriel was in complete awe of you, he sat beside you on your love seat completely captivated by you, his fingers tracing small circles into your thighs and his shadows curling through your hair. And that smile, gods, that smile could make even the most poised male lose all sense. It was bright and gleaming, and your skin glowed with the happiness of it.

Then you had decided to break the news to the Inner Circle, and as you stood before those doors oozing with grandeur, you felt nerves pinch at your skin, "Are you ready?" Azriel's fingers were tangled with yours and he bowed his head to place his lips on your bare shoulder.

"Yes." Azriel gave your hand a gentle tug, willing you to move from your spot located just behind him.

The aura of the house had shifted, now, it was inquisitive, glancing to the mirrors and then back to your hands to see if what it was seeing was real. Laughter echoed at the end of the hall, your scent had usually silenced them by now, but not this time. Now that your scent was mixed with Azriel’s it seemed much less threatening. Pity.

Turning the corner, you became startled by the smash of a glass, shards of it glided along the floor and fell at your feet. Looking up, you found Mor frozen in place, wide eyes and bewildered. The rest of the room craned to attention, collectively moving their eyes from Mor, to you, and then to Azriel, and then to your entwined fingers.

It took a minute, but you could have sworn you heard the bell ding in Cassian’s empty brain, “Oh shit,” he rose to his feet, wings flaring slightly as a wide grin gripped his mouth.

Rhys appeared before you both, gaze lowered in surprise, clearly trying to picture a timeline in his mind. The High Lord looked to his Spymaster, “Are you-“

“Mates?” Azriel finished incredulously, knowing that your moulded scents had already infected the room, and turned his head to you, orbs gleaming and adoration speckled on his cheeks, “Yes.”

Elain Archeron had sank into her seat, doing her best to not pay attention to you in particular whilst her stomach churned with the scent seeping into her bones. Subconsciously, you moved closer to Azriel, a slightly territorial action that made him smirk.

It had been a brief conversation that you had suffered through, the one where Azriel had made it very clear that the situation with Elain was brutally one-sided. Azriel had only sought to be nice to her, to help her to adjust to her new body and life because she was Feyre's sister and Feyre was his High Lady, and she had taken his kindness for something much more than what it truly was.

Leading you to the velvet armchair that you would usually slither into, Azriel sat and motioned for you, turning you in his hands so that his touch never left your thighs, and pulled you to his lap. A bashful smile formed on your face and you could feel the eyes of the room on you, equally as confused as shocked.

"Since when?" Nesta had asked after sipping from the goblet of red wine between her fingers, the liquid staining her plump pale lips, and she used her thumb to wipe a singular droplet before it ran down her chin. Her eyes held an emotion you couldn't quite make out, Azriel had admitted that Nesta was just as unreadable as you at times, but the way his digits dug into your flesh told you that what the eldest sister was feeling was an assortment of jealousy. Not toward you, toward him.

"The bond snapped just over a month ago," Nesta hummed and burrowed herself into the cushions, pouting slightly, like she was an infant who had her favourite toy taken from her grasp. "We wanted to explore it before we properly accepted it or told anyone."

That made Elain's doe-like stare move from the floor to your mate who was sat with you on his thighs rubbing small circles into your shoulders, "So you haven't accepted it?"

Your jaw clenched at the question, the question that was perfumed with the last splatters of hope, "If you're asking if we've fucked yet, Elain, then no, we haven't. Does that answer your question?"

Azriel's fingers moved to play with the ends of your hair, knowing that the sensation of slight tugging over your scalp relaxed you infinitely, "I only ask because I know how physical Azriel can be. Surely you've heard the stories?" Elain feigned innocence, Feyre sighed from her seat and glanced to you apologetically, silently begging you to not tear her sister apart.

In fact, you had heard the stories. Trying to ignore the gossip of the city was difficult considering how used you were to eavesdropping into certain conversations in the underworld. So, unfortunately, you had heard about Azriel's many lovers, and you'd be silly to not feel insecure of it, but you wouldn't let her see that. Ever.

Craning your neck to the side, you smiled, your iced gaze slicing into her and making Elain shrink under the weight of it, "With all due respect, which is none," you leaned to the side, accepting the goblet of wine that the house had presented to you in premature thanks for the forthcoming words you were about to utter, "Your existence gives me a headache, so please go and find somewhere else to be."

Rhys' eyes widened but he suppressed the smirk forming on his face, hiding his lips behind his fist and closing his eyes. Not even Feyre or Nesta spoke up over it, they clearly knew better than to challenge you. Cassian however didn't really care if Elain saw his joy at your words, he had been growing more tired each passing day of her pining affection toward his brother, and now he understood why Azriel had withdrawn further from the female over the last few weeks.

It was because of the unique female before their very eyes.

The middle sister went to open her mouth, to retort something that wouldn't even irk you, but Amren shushed her, halted the words in her throat and willed her to die with them, "Don't even try it," Amren served you more than her own court, finding a kindred spirit within you, and she would shame herself if she let Elain speak to you as if you were nothing.

Elain would never understand someone like you. She wasn't worthy of it anyway.

No one had ever tried to understand Amren, not really, they thought her too complicated to be worth it. As long as they brought her pretty jewels and respected her then there was little else to worry of in their eyes. But you, you had understood her instantly and had found a particular solace with her, like you were peering through a mirror and she was your reflection.

Sipping the potent liquid in your goblet, you bowed your head to her, quietly thanking your friend for halting the small spat before it escalated and ruined the evening entirely. Tonight was not about Elain and her fragile feelings, it was about showing the Inner Circle who now owned your heart.

So, the middle sister vacated the room feigning a migraine, and the aura instantly lifted. A soft smile formed on your lips when your eyes landed on your mate, your entire face relaxed; entwining your fingers with his, you blushed when he pressed his lips to your knuckles and dragged your index finger down his cheek.

The Inner Circle watched on, knowing that they had never seen Azriel so taken by anything. They feasted on the sight of his shadows purring through your hair, on your colliding smiles, and how your gentle words to one another were contained in an ornate bubble around your bodies.

As the evening continued, you found yourself quite enjoying their company, you sat bundled into Azriel's embrace, finding comfort in the arms that were wrapped around you whilst Cassian spewed war stories, bragging at his prowess.

"Not to brag," you began with a smirk, "But at least eight men have described me as 'terrifying', and two of them are in this room. Choke on that ego, Cassian."

Nesta's grin turned feline and excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn't give to spar with you, to have your legs wound around her and that tense gaze splitting her in half. From the whisperings of Prythian, it was very clear that you had done some rather diabolical things in order to obtain certain artifacts that had been locked away in your most prized and personal collection. So prized that its location was unknown. She could only imagine what trinkets you possessed, and the things you had witnessed.

"What about Azriel?!"

The Shadowsinger shrugged, his hand resting on your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, "I've only ever been entranced by my mate, Cassian," Azriel drawled, sipping the amber liquid swirling in his rocks glass like molten bronze, "It's you and Rhys who are afraid of her."

"If it's any consolation, I don't blame you."

Cassian frowned, turning to Nesta and asking, "Are you scared of her?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly, so quickly that you had quirked your brow at the sound, "I find y/n to be quite exciting."

"Exciting?" Cassian moved to Feyre and asked the same question, his manhood decaying when she too said that you didn't scare her, "Mor?"

The blonde who could not rival your beauty had always watched you from afar, and had always enjoyed how you made males squirm. Mor rose her glass to the stars and stated, "Bring every man you meet to their motherfucking knees, y/n."

"Amen to that," Amren tipped her glass in response, downing the rest of the thick red sap and finally feeling at home in the presence of her family thanks to you, and she eternally thanked the male sat beside you for being able to breathe some light into the storm cloud that was your mind.

"Mother above," Rhys grumbled, the women in his life uniting and itching to wreck havoc. The action of Rhys swiping his hand down his face, dragging the skin slightly toward in frustration, made a deep chuckle float from your lips, so serene that Nesta likened the sound to a siren call and found herself drawn to it. "Did I just make you laugh?" Rolling your eyes, you nodded at the High Lord who turned toward his mate, "This is the best day of my life," then back to you, "Does this mean that we're friends?"

Rhys waited expectantly, childlike orbs pleading to you with their innocence. You had no friends bar Amren and you were content with that. It meant that you only had one thing to lose. But as Azriel laid his hand on the small of your back, gaining your attention and giving you an expression of promise, the resolve of your solitude cracked, "Why not?"

The door to the River House flew open, a sudden shrill chill soaring through the air from the wild winds battering against the city, no doubt spurred on by your fury.

Many months had passed, and in that time you had truly blossomed, sure you still wore the mask of the devil on your features in public, but when you were with the Inner Circle, a group of people you now proudly belonged to, that mask drifted away like ash in the autumn breeze; and when Azriel was beside you, it felt as though warmth and happiness was all that you ever knew.

Much to Elain's upset, you and Azriel had officially accepted the bond and had locked yourselves away for four weeks to make the most out of every single moment together, and Rhys had been understanding enough of the bond between you both to not drag your mate away on another mission. The bond between you and Azriel was something that Rhys had never seen before, not even between him and Feyre.

"She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had."

The ceremony itself had been astonishing.

The women of the Inner Circle had spent the better part of two days dressing your apartment for the occasion and Feyre had made it quite clear that the upcoming ceremony was going to make theirs look ridiculous in comparison. Rhys was split between jealousy and awe when he saw it.

No one had ever stepped into the apartment beside Amren and Azriel, he had decided to move into the apartment after your return from the four-week sabbatical at the cabin, it was as though you were gifting them with the last part of you, allowing them to see what they could never fathom.

Faelights were strewn across the ceiling, curling around the arched windows that displayed the golden valley of the city in a way Rhys had never been able to appreciate before; tucked between the vines of the lights was fresh foliage, an array of green hue ferns caressing fully blossomed white roses and pale blue peonies. Sprigs of cedar and rosemary had been wove between the foliage and flowers alongside splinters of sandalwood, filling the room with the physical aspects of your scents.

Only the Inner Circle had been invited, and as you were dressing in your room with Amren, you could hear Nesta whining of her foolish jealousy of having to watch Azriel marry you. Amren had simply raised a brow and smirked at you through the mirror as she finished securing your veil to the back of your head.

There was no one you would want to share the moment with other than her.

Amren had blindfolded you, leading you through the home so that the gift wouldn't be ruined just so that you could get ready together, for the most important and deserving night of your life.

The dress that you had meticulously chosen was the most incredible garment Amren had ever seen, so much so that the first time you had tried it on in front of her, she had nearly cried at the beauty of it; and there you now stood, twisting in the mirror and running your hands down the hem of your veil and then your hips. The dress was made entirely of white lace that you had imported from the Day Court, an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves that kissed your wrists, it was elegant and graceful, and made the freckles of your trauma glow like shooting stars.

A gentle knock had sounded at the door and Rhys stepped in, taking one look at you and finding his breath catching in his throat. "You look amazing," he breathed, approaching you with his hands deep within his pockets.

The High Lord had been honoured when you had sheepishly asked him to walk you down the aisle; Rhys had found himself consumed with the need to protect you, after seeing your guard disappear, he saw who you truly were, a woman who just wanted to be loved and protected, and ready to allow other people to do it for her after spending so long doing it herself.

"Are you ready?" Inhaling deeply, you nodded and turned to him, noting the outstretched hand before you and feeling your usual anxiety bubbling in your gut. Rhys, realising that he shouldn't have done something so bold, went to retreat but halted when you took a small step toward him, reaching your fingers out to his palm and sliding them into his grasp.

Azriel was right, your skin was a smooth as honey.

A gentle smile of triumph later, you spoke, "I'm ready."

It was that moment that Rhys was begging you to remember as you barrelled through his house, no doubt heading straight for him in the confinements of his office.

He could feel your anger slam through the walls, your footsteps sounding up the staircase and stopping at the top of the hall, a pause to remember just how much you liked him before stalking down the hall and bursting into his office. Rhys cringed, knowing what was coming as you strode to his desk and slapped your palms flat against the wood.

"If you ever," you pointed your perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Send my mate back to me in that state again. I. Will. Destroy. You."

The snarl of your words sent a shiver coursing down his spine, and in that moment you were the y/n he had met one-hundred years ago. Cold. Distant. Almost demonic.

In his defence, he hadn't sent Azriel on an overly dangerous mission, it wasn't his fault that his Spymaster was ambushed in The Middle. Azriel's spilled blood was entirely his own fault in Rhys' eyes, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt, y/n."

The rushed footsteps of another sounded in the hall, and when Rhys looked past your deeply heaving form, he was relieved beyond compare when he saw a bruised Azriel approaching, "Angel, it wasn't his fault. I was distracted," his voice grew louder as he paced closer to the pair of you, appearing at your side and turning your head in his fingers to face him, "I was thinking about you and I didn't hear them coming."

Watching your shoulders drop, Rhys sighed and wiped away an invisible bead of sweat from his brow, sitting back down and continuing his viewing just as you tilted your head to the side and popped out your bottom lip.

"You were?" Azriel's eyes softened and he dipped his gaze to meet yours, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done. You were attacked because you were thinking about me, you actually bled because you were thinking about me?"

Rhys could only watch on perplexed at your words, you threw yourself into Azriel's arms, muttering small apologies for brushing against the bruises littering his abdomen, "She's crazy."

The Shadowsinger could only huff, too entrapped by you to really reprimand him, "Yeah," his eyes opened lazily, brimming with exhaustion, "But she's my crazy."

Azriel's shadows curled over your shoulders and shuddered, crying to be as close to you as possible, like they were trying to entwine with your soul so that you one day may carry them with you wherever you walked. In whatever world.

A bond like yours was made to topple temples and shatter worlds, it was made to transcend time and space; and as you wrapped an arm around your mate and led him from the office, not without sending one more warning glare to the male you had come to love as a brother, Rhys knew that no matter where either of you went, there would be no place that you could travel to where the other would not follow.

Author’s Note

Hope you enjoy 👉🏼👈🏼

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my PERMANENT TAGLIST 🤍✨

Banners by the fabulous @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent Tags

@romantasyreader28

872 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 1 month

Text

frangere me | break me | 🥀 [3.4k] emperor geta x reader

dulcis ut rosa || dulex || vitiosus + deliciosus

18+ smut, violence, talks of war

The stone wall bit into the tender flesh of your back. With your head thrown back, a silent moan etched itself across your face. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and Geta responded with a groan against the column of your throat, a deep thrust pistoning so hard the paintings hung beside you fell in a loud crack to the marbled floor.

It had been like this for months. What started as a midnight affair blossomed into fucking in broad daylight. The thrill of being caught making the lust for one another heighten to the Gods above. Each time was better than the last. Geta quickly became attuned to your body.

You pleasured him beneath his desk as he discussed military stations and territories with his generals, his poker face never faltering— only hitting the large desk with a fist as he came hot and heavy in your mouth.

He had you screaming in the middle of the coliseum, the sand rubbing against your forearms as he rocked his mighty cock into you, a whip in his right hand slapping your ass with glee.

Fucking Geta was sinfully erotic, filthy and savory. A favorite time of yours was when you were face to face, a shared orgasm breathing between you as your hips circled his cock in the balineum, water splashing and slapping around you.

His was during the light of dawn when he took your hand pulling you to where his throne was perched in the throne room. Geta was gentle as he kissed you, his fingers were feather light touches against your molten skin, he knelt before you as you leaned back in his throne chair, his laurel wreath crown balancing on your head.

He licked and bit at your thighs. Suckling on your clit as he whispered, “mea imperatrix,” working you through the earth shattering orgasm as you coated his tongue.

You couldn’t get enough of him, and he of you. The wall of this palace held many secrets, but yours and Geta’s was by far the most delicate of all.

—

Goosebumps prickled your skin as Geta ran blunt nails down your back. It was nearly daybreak, yet you still hadn’t left his chambers, how could you when his arms were wrapped around you pleading for you to stay with him just a little longer.

You’re drifting to sleep against his chest when his breath fans against your ear, “you have not bled this month.”

“Hm?” you mumble sleepily, a yawn drawing past your lips.

Sitting up in his bed, Geta hooks a finger under your chin. “Do not be coy, my dulcis… you haven’t bled yet, have you?”

Stretching the kinks from your arms and spine, you rise to your knees, peeling your warmed skin from his, still sticky with the grape wine you poured down your chest and Geta had licked off just hours before.

You met his eyes as they traveled across your body, “the month is not over, there are still days left for the cycle to begin.”

Geta’s eyes continue descending down your bare body before him. The beautiful curves and supple skin he dined on, pinched between his fingers any chance he could get. He had claimed you every night and day for half of this year, and he’d continue doing so until his death.

His chest rose and fell heavily as he scrubbed his hands down his face, “we have not been careful, my seed drips between your legs at this very moment.”

Reaching for his hands you delicately pull them from his face so you can stare into his dark eyes. The torture this man was battling internally would one day consume him, and you tried your hardest to keep him afloat.

“I have never missed my cycle, and I won’t this month either. I know the way my body works.”

Geta grabs your wrist and kisses your open palm, “I know every inch of your body better than the maps of Rome on my desk. You smell sweeter, your breasts are fuller, I can tell by the way you whine and purr with pleasure that your nipples are significantly tender, more than usual.”

You frown, pulling your eyebrows together before he swoops you up and lays you down, kissing your neck as you giggle. His face dangles inches above yours. “All of Rome will know our secrets when you start showing.”

You move his face from your neck and hold his cheeks in your hands, rubbing against the rough midnight stubble collecting on his jaw.

When dawn creeped into the last dark drink of night, Geta was the most handsome to you— when the sleep drug heavy on his eyelids and those salmon tinted lips moved lazily when he spoke. Moving a lock of untamed honey from his forehead you admire him wholly.

“We don’t know that I’m carrying for sure. For all we know, my love, this could be the work of Mercury.”

Geta sighed deeply, “do not mistake my worry for ignorance. I would fill you with my heirs every year for the rest of our lives if that’s what you wanted. My worry isn’t about you bearing my child, it’s about the other that rules half of this kingdom.”

“Then maybe it is time for the unveiling of this adulterous devotion.” Pulling yourself up to his mouth, you slot your lips between his. Kissing him deep until your tongues join and you can feel the tension and worry seep from him.

Geta slides down resting his body gently onto yours, “Not until a crown lay on your head and you stand next to that reptilian infant before the gods— no adultering has been made.”

“And you’d want to wait for that moment?” you question.

He bit your lip with his teeth until you squealed, and his tongue lapped up the single drop of blood that appeared, “I will stand before Rome tomorrow if I thought it meant you being mine was equal to your safety… Caracalla will not take this union and betrayal of ours lightly.”

“I thought my bloodthirsty lover would kill any man who threat—”

Geta laughs darkly, “Caracalla is not a threat— merely an annoyance who uses others for his dirty work, but he is vile, and will go to extreme lengths to destroy anyone who crosses him… rest assured my little wicked thing—I have plans for him. My taste for bloodlust has not lost me yet.”

He smiles then like a man gone mad, your blood staining the crooks of his teeth.

“I will wait however long… but let’s not bother ourselves with him tonight Geta, I want you inside of me one last time before I have to pretend we’ve never lied together.”

Your legs open for him, the heat from your core beckoning him as slick wets your lips. His eyes darken, “my favorite game, acting as if I hate you all day only to fuck you until you’re weeping into my sheets at night.”

He dives into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin biting harder when you moan.

“You’re the worst, my love,” you say breathless as he reaches between your bodies and nudges the head of his cock between your folds, a small moan on your lips as you circle your hips needing him deeper, “absolutely the worst.”

Geta leans up, grabbing you harshly by the bend in your knee, a wicked grin on his lips as he thrusts his cock into your wet welcoming heat, “that’s right, and don’t you ever forget it.”

—

A servant’s day in the palace was bleak at best. Following Caracalla around as he fussed over his appearance, and shouted at staff for the way the grapes tasted, it was all monotonous. Everyone gathered for the mid day feast, a summer celebration where servants and the royalty eat in the same hall.

You hid your smile when Geta approached behind his mother. The dried blood on your lip from last night a steady reminder of why you ached between your thighs today. Heat flushed your skin when you imagined those great veiny hands scorching body as he came loud inside of you.

What if he was right? What if you were with child? A small ripple of joy shot through you at the way Geta didn’t seem afraid of having a babe with you. You let your mind wander as you sit next to the other servants of the palace while they gossip, and you pick at the roasted pork before you.

You imagine him being stern, those overgrown hands of his no doubt able to discipline unruly children bearing their father’s eyes and quick fired temperament. But that side of Geta that no one else in Rome knew about would also leak through his tough exterior.

The piece of him that was sweet and caring, that part of himself that he bore to you over and over again because of the way you made him feel. He was sweet, kind, gentle when needed.

A smile presses on your lips and you hum an audible sigh. Yes, Geta would be a good father— when that time came, if it ever did. Your heart flutters and your stomach lurches when you peek over your shoulder at him.

His jaw was set tight at the head table as he listened to his generals whisper about the upcoming war. A flicker of those dark eyes catch yours and he balances a smirk on his lips for a second before shooting a wink and quickly

turning away.

Your small victory over the contest of staring is short lived before a loud whisper interrupts your daydream of that devious mouth on your skin.

“Don’t lie Jessaphina,” Claudia hissed behind her hand, “you’ve never been to his chambers!”

“I have so,” the blonde announced unabashedly, sipping loudly from her wine, “how else would I know that it’s high in a tower? Or that he prefers the shades to be drawn at all times… but the view from his balcony is breathtaking, I could really get used to it.”

Claudia clicks her tongue, “you’re going to get yourself killed with such nonsense lies. No whore is allowed in the Emperor’s chambers.”

“You are if you’re invited.” Jessaphina crooned, a smile on her lips, “my garments are on his floor as we speak.”

“Jessapahina!” Claudia hissed out every ‘s’, “it’s impossible is it not? You’re betrothed to one of the general's men, fifth in command.”

“Fourth— Claudia, and not anymore…Geta has promised me the throne besi—”

Slamming down your plate you had heard enough. It took seconds for you to reach across the table, an even shorter amount of time to wrap your fingers in her braids and bring her face down hard into the oak table until the satisfying sound of her nose breaking had every pair of eyes on you.

Your name was screeched from Claudia’s lips as she tried to pry your fingers from Jessaphina’s hair. Rage boiled within you and a sudden rush of ecstasy as Jessaphina’s screams became blubbery sobs.

It was his voice that silenced the room, demanding all attention to him. Your eyes met Geta’s and it was then and only then that hot tears welled within your own.

Without breaking his stare, you spat on Jessaphina, unfurled your fingers from her blonde locks and spun on your heel, storming out of the dining hall.

Betrayal. The one person you had put trust in, gave everything too and more— and it was gone.

You didn’t make it very far before a fuming Geta met up with you, “what in gods name are you trying to do?”

Spinning to face him, you slapped his face with tears rolling down your cheeks, “I should ask you the same question!”

Geta’s face burned with crimson as he stared down at you, “watch your tongue—”

Your hand cracks his other cheek, “how could you?!”

“Gnat,” he says through gritted teeth, “I have no idea what you are asking.”

“Jessaphina! The blonde whore with the now broken nose! She claims she’s been to your chambers!”

He laughs in annoyance, “what?”

“She knows where it is what it looks like— she knows that your curtains are drawn in darkness!”

Geta reaches for you but you swat his hand away, “of course she is lying, I’m sure she has heard that from the servants who come to clean.”

“She said she was invited!” you spat back, at him, “that she was to be your equal on the throne, that her clothing was strewn about your chambers as if she belongs there.”

His left eye twitches at the crease, “I have never seen that woman before in my life. You are it for me, mea amor—”

“Don’t!” You screech, shoving him away, “do not call me that when you’ve been fucking another!”

“I know nothing of her!” Geta yells loudly, “not my eyes, nor my hands or lips have touched anyone but you.”

You scoff then, “you never touched me either when we started out. Remember? It was only my mouth, and your cock.”

Geta sighs and hangs his head, those dark eyes pooling with tears, “my sweet girl, please.”

“Is that all I am to you? A warm mouth… even now? We play in the shadows of secrecy…all those nights swearing how I am yours… were you ever once mine, Geta?”

“Mea domina,” he whispers, pulling you to him as you cry into his chest. “I am yours and yours alone, what more proof can I offer you.” He pulls your chin up to him, wiping a line of tears from your eyes. “I swear on my crown, there hasn’t been another since you, and there won’t ever be.”

He doesn’t owe you anything. He’s an emperor, and you are nothing but a wet fuck when no one is around. After all these months you’re still his secret.

You jerk your chin away from him, your hands falling to their sides, “I’m such a fool aren’t I? For ever believing a word that comes from your mouth.”

Geta pleads your name as you pull away, leaving his heart shattering to pieces as he stands alone. In the same corridor that this all had started— it would also end.

—

Geta was a miserable man without you, he felt hollow— exactly as he did before your pretty and defiant smile came here.The daylight was easier on him, but when night fell he felt as if he was being suffocated, as if every breath was expunged from his lungs in one tight grip on his throat.

Were you hurting? Were you as bad off as he was? Geta was many things but he wasn’t a liar, he truly had never seen that woman until that very day when you smashed her face to bits into that table.

Days passed without him even catching a glimpse of you, but the night was filled with ghostly pearl whispers of your voice in his ear, invading his dreams and keeping him awake.

He assembled soldiers into the foothills to train for the impending war. Cracking a whip over their heads as they fought to the bloody death to prove themselves to him.

Every ounce of pain he felt since you left was pushed into those men, he was ruthlessly deranged and couldn’t be stopped, the spitfire temper he was known for was back with a vengeance, led by a weeping soul.

Around the fire one evening as Geta polished his sword while the few surviving men slept, the ground crunched beneath Acacius’s feet.

“Your excellency,” he greeted with a bow of his head, “I have my best guards watching Emperor Caracalla in my absence.”

“Very well,” Geta mumbled, his vacant eyes losing focus.

Acacius fiddled with the leather on his wrist, “yes, and the—erm.. sir? Your lady…would you like me to watch for her as well?” His dark eyes looked pitifully at his broken hearted Emperor.

Geta’s eyes met Acacius’ and the moon kissed the tear as it fell on his cheek, “please.”

Caracalla was full of himself. You were certain of that, and because of that reason alone— he didn’t notice that your eyes had lost their sparkle, or the way the skin beneath them seemed to darken from lack of sleep. As long as you paid attention to him he could give a shit whether you looked off or not.

You had heard from the others that Jessaphina would heal fine. And from Caracalla’s loud mouth he said that Geta had taken troops to prepare for the inevitable battle that loomed ahead.

Hearing his name burned like fire in your stomach. It had only been three days without him but you felt as if it were a lifetime. The palace was lonely without his presence. Most nights you found yourself wandering the halls like a spirit, sneaking into his study and curling up on the chaise. Replaying your nights together in your head until the sun shone through the curtains.

You missed him, and you felt sick to your stomach thinking of the pain in his face when you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. But you were also hurt, deceived by the only man you’ve ever truly cared for.

It was irrational the way you had reacted, you spent every night in Geta’s arms for months on end, how could he possibly be seeing anyone other than you? He couldn’t have. It was that simple and truly were a fool for doubting him.

More days passed and every time you heard a galloping hoof on the rocks your heart burned with it being Geta returning to you, but every time it wasn’t him.

It wasn’t until tending to Caracalla’s wardrobe one evening that a lower ranked general you’d never seen before approached you in a hushed whisper.

He was covered in sweat and smelled of the wind as if he had just rode back from far away. He bowed at the waist before grabbing your hand and thrusting a note into your palm before leaving immediately before being seen.

The parchment was covered with soil and splattered in blood, but nonetheless you knew who it had come from.

—tonight, when the moon is highest, meet me, our spot—

The corridor was ominous and pitched into darkness as you looked past the pillars into the sky. You had never been more nervous than tonight. The moon was positioned correctly as it always was in the beginning when Geta had requested you to meet, but he had yet to appear.

You remained near the opening, feeling the humid air warm your face as the cicadas sang their mating calls. The loose fabric of your stola flowed behind you in white lengths. Dutifully, patiently you waited for your Emperor’s return.

Too long it had been since you’ve held his eyes in yours, since his smell invaded your nose and filled your lungs, you couldn’t wait to throw yourself into his arms, to tell him how ridiculous you had been.

Footsteps had you turning the same time a familiar voice rang in your ears.

“There you are.”

—

“… we must move through the western front for the advantage.”

“Neigh Titus, the southern region is less barren, easier to disguise amongst the trees.”

Geta and the highest generals were sitting in the war camp pouring over maps and territories on where to strike first. A full week had passed since he’d been home, but the attention and focus he put into his men waa slowly mending himself to how he was before you.

“Emperor!” Acacius roared, slapping open the tent opening out of breath, “a word, please.”

Geta flicked his wrist to release his men. After filing out of his tent, Acacius interrupted before Geta could ask.

“Word just came from the Hill that there’s been an ambush.”

Geta’s nostrils flared and he rose from where he was sitting, the psychotic twitch in his eye stung as his breath quickened.

“We’ve been prepared for retaliation for weeks, our walls will hold until we get back— tell the men to gather their weapons, we are leaving camp immediately.”

“This is not an enemy led attack— it’s from within our own walls!”

“Wh— Acacius explain yourself!”

Acacius yelled frantically, “Staff are dead, soldiers killed by their own bloodlines— and your lady… my excellency, she’s been taken.”

🌿🌿 there will be another part bc i can’t help myselfffff i love the angst 😫

☻ taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @fallout-girl219 @hellfireadmin @all-will-be-well-love @anythinggoesemily

@eddiesguitarskills @prestinalove @palomahasenteredthechat @wiltinglovers @razzeith

@workingwndrz @probablyin-bed @songforeddiemunson @avobabe87 @creative1writings

@liminalpebble @screaming-blue-bagel @spookyquinnbie @thewondernanazombie @ghosty-boo-shh

@creepycranberry @fl444wless @aphrodites-divine-nectar @hillarymurray4 @iamchallengerred

@alyisdead

#emperor geta x reader #joseph quinn #emperor geta smut #emperor geta x you #emperor geta #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #emperor geta fanfic

335 notes · View notes

r0ugesun · 3 months

Text

Guilty as sin

“What If the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?”

warnings — nsfw, religious imagery, Catholic guilt, finger fuck!ng, blowjob, misuse of the confessional, porn with plot, slow burn ooc(?) aemond

Pairings: Priest!Aemond x Reader

Synopsis: Father aemond, a devoted Catholic priest, is steadfast in his vows until a beautiful new parishioner, you, begins visiting his confessional regularly. Each visit is filled with whispered confessions of sin, making it increasingly difficult for him to keep his promise of celibacy and his composure and commitment to his faith. As your confessions become more personal, Father Aeomond finds himself battling intense feelings of desire and guilt, questioning his faith and the very vows that define his life. he grapples with his sacred duty and the forbidden attraction that threatens to consume him.

“Father hear my prayer, witness my devotion”

In the hushed stillness of the dawn, Father Aemond knelt beneath the towering crucifix, where the desolate visage of Christ hung suspended in eternal torture. His hands, gently held an emerald rosary, pressed together in fervent prayer, he whispered supplications into the fabric of the divine. The bright, golden glow of countless candles bathed the church in a holy luminescence, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. The smoke of frankincense and myrrh swirled through the air, mingling with the first few rays of light shining through the stained glass.

It’s been years since Father Aemond was sent away to the priesthood by his mother to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave his home, but seeing his mothers furrowed brow desperate tears in her eyes at having lost his brother Aegon to Satans grasp, he hung his head low and allowed her to place her boundless hope and faith onto him he didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t want to see her pained expression of seeing another son following the same dark path.

He found succor in the Lord and he was content with placing all his sorrows onto him.

Meditation prayer and penance

that’s all he needed, nothing more nothing less, he’d place everything in gods hands and in turn the Lord provided.

“May your will be done through me your faithful servant, amen”

Father Aemond rose slowly from his knees, He brushed off his cassock, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet sanctuary.

With a deep breath, he moved towards the grand wooden doors at the entrance, his worn keys jingling softly in his hand. As he walked sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on him as he turned the heavy iron key in the lock, preparing to welcome the day's congregation.

Father Aemond stood at the front of the church, watching as the congregation filled the pews, familiar faces offering him warm smiles and nods, the small children hid behind their mothers skirts unnerved by his eyepatch and tall slender figure, he didn’t mind it too much, the congregations quiet murmures creating a gentle hum that echoed off the stone walls.

His eye swept over the crowd, offering silent prayers for each familiar face. Just as he was about to turn towards the altar and begin, the heavy wooden doors creaked open again, and a woman stepped inside. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen in his humble parish.

She was beautiful—sinfully beautiful. Her h/c hair was covered by a delicate red veil that cascaded down her back, and her eyes, there was a hint of sadness to them, they looked slightly tired and weary but it did nothing to blanket her beauty, she scanned the room before settling on him. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her presence commanding attention without a word.

Father Aemond’s heart skipped a beat, a feeling of unease mingling with an inexplicable attraction. He watched as she took a seat near the back, her gaze never leaving him. Shaking off his discomfort, he reminded himself of his duty and the sanctity of his calling.

As the service began, he couldn't help but glance in her direction, the mystery of her appearance nagging at the edges of his thoughts. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did she come?

He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the service.

Father Aemond sat in the dimly lit confessional booth. He had been here countless times, offering absolution to his parishioners, guiding them back to the path god wanted for them. Yet today, something was different.

The screen softly slid open, revealing the shadowy outline of a woman. You spoke soft and melodic.

“Bless me father for I have sinned”

Aemond’s heart quickened. He didn’t recognize the voice. It must belonged to the new parishioner, the beauty he had seen at Mass, your presence both a distraction and a source of deep unease for him.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“It’s been….years, Father,” you admit. “I have strayed far from gods light”

He could feel your gaze, even through the screen, and it unsettled him, he grasped his rosary tighter in his hand.

“Tell me what burdens your soul my child”

You hesitated, then began to speak of your sins

Your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Father I-I have sinned greatly, I’ve left my husband and my home”

Aemond felt a pang of surprise.

“Why did you leave him?”

Your voice began to shake.

“For years, I endured his anger, his cruelty…. H-his indiscretion’s…. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave or I feared I would lose my sanity.”

Aemond’s heart ached for her.

“I found comfort in the arms of another man. I’ve committed adultery…. I gave my body to him… thought it would ease my pain and loneliness, it did temporarily but now I just feel more alone than I’ve ever had.”

Aemond’s breath caught. The vivid images her words conjured plucked at his own hidden desires. Flashes of your face contorted in pleasure, your thighs trembling under his hips…. He clenched his rosary even tighter, forcing himself to remain composed.

“Adultery is a grave sin,”

he said, his voice heavy.

“But God is slow to anger and quick to forgive. True repentance can lead to forgiveness.”

“I wanted to feel loved, Father,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I want to feel held, I cannot push away these desires and it scares me.”

He could hear the sob in your voice, the shame. And yet, the way you spoke, the unintentional seductiveness in your words, made it hard for him to think clearly.

“The important thing is to seek forgiveness and to resist these temptations.”

He said trying to keep his composure

“But what if I can’t?” You asked, your voice filled with despair.

“What if my desire is too strong? What if i seek…comfort again?”

Aemond’s pulse quickened.

“You must pray for the will to resist falling into your desires, true pleasure is in Gods light, you will never be alone in his arms”

Was he saying this to you or himself?? He didn’t know anymore.

“Thank you, Father. your words comforted me”

As you left the confessional, Aemond remained, his head bowed. He exhaled a shaky breath His heart was a storm of conflicting emotions—guilt, longing, and a desperate need for penance. He whispered a prayer, not only for you but for himself. For the strength to resist, for the grace to overcome his own lust, and for the will to remain steadfast in his vows.

He looked down at his hands, the rosary he was holding was now dripping blood from his hand.

Over the next few weeks Father Aemond found himself anticipating your presence more than he cared to admit. You continued to attend mass regularly, your beauty a fresh assault on his vows. Your confessional sessions grew longer and more personal, the line between priest and penitent eroding with every shared secret. Aemond knew he was endangering his sacred duty, still he found himself in your company once again.

In the church gardens, the air was perfumed by the rich scent of roses, you often walked together after your confessions. Your conversations ranged from mundane topics to the profound, each exchange drawing you both closer.

As you walked, the setting sun cast a warm glow over everything.

"You've become such an important part of my life," you admitted, your voice vulnerable . "I feel like I can tell you anything."

Father Aemond's heart pounded in his chest. "You know I'm here for you," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and something deeper. "Always."

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your eyes searching his. "But what about you, Aemond? Who do you talk to? Who listens to your confessions?"

He hesitated, the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on him. "God always listens to my confessions, always." he replied.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to gently touch his his. "Yes but, even you should have someone listen and answer.”

Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself unable to look away from her eyes. "I… God answers me in his own way y/n” but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

You sighed and caressed his hands with your thumb, adding insult to his already aching heart.

“What a beautiful rosary” you said not wanting to press further, something he was thankful for

“Thank you it was a gift from my mother” he said, you gently touched the emerald beads making his heart flutter.

He took in your form with his good eye, you were…. Divine, if we were made in gods image then you were surely carved from his best parts, he thought.

his lips parted slightly and he felt his cheeks flush and in that moment, he knew there was no turning back. The guilt and shame surged, but so did a deep, undeniable love. Father Aemond grit his teeth, he prayed,but this time, it was not for strength to resist you, but for forgiveness.

Father Aemond sat alone in the dimly lit confessional booth, the flickering candles casting long shadows on the walls. It was late, and the rain outside had started as a gentle patter but had now grown into a relentless downpour. The usual steady stream of parishioners had come and gone, leaving him to his thoughts.

He wasn’t expecting anyone else to come tonight. The storm would keep most people indoors, and he welcomed the quiet solitude to reflect and pray. But as he sat there, he heard the heavy church door creak open. He straightened, surprised that anyone would venture out in such weather.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty church, growing louder as they approached the confessional. The door to the adjoining booth opened and closed softly. Father Aemond held his breath, recognizing the familiar presence even before you spoke.

"Aemond, it’s me," your voice trembled

"Y/n you're drenched," he said, concern lacing his tone. "Why are you out in this storm?"

"I had to see you," you replied. "I couldn't wait."

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "What is it, my child?"

There was a long pause, thunder clapping loudly and the rain pounding against the church windows. Then, your voice came, barely above a whisper.

“Father Aemond I’ve sinned greatly”

you said voice cracking “my thoughts wander at mass….I’ve been having indecent thoughts….thoughts about a person who’s shown me kindness and I can’t stop these feelings”

you recall how father Aemond would lick his pointer and middle finger before turning a page of the Bible during his sermons, making you instinctively rub your thighs together in the pews.

“I-I’ve been….relieving myself while thinking of him…these desires are consuming me”

Father Aemond's heart raced, and he felt his cock beginning to twitch. He knew what he should say, tell you to resist these carnal desires but he didn’t, he couldn’t.

“Continue” he said trying to keep his voice from shaking.

You continued, your voice breaking. "I know it's wrong but…but I-i” you tried to stop the sob that escaped you, but the shame was too much.

“You what??” he said desperately.

“Father aemond I'm in love with you”

He could feel your desperation, your vulnerability. The rain outside seemed to echo his own inner turmoil, a tempest of feelings he could no longer suppress. He tore open the small wooden panel that separated you both, revealing your tear-streaked face and thin dress clinging to your skin.

You looked up at him shocked, before you could speak he pulled you up and kissed you harshly.

In that moment, all his vows, all his promises seemed to dissolve under the intensity of your kiss. Hungry wet kisses echoed in the booth until he pulled away from you, you stood facing each other, gasping for air the dim light casting a halo around your wet figure.

"I love you too," he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've tried to fight it, but I can't."

He closed the distance between you again, and pulled your wet body flush against his, the warmth of his body against yours was a sensation he'd only dared to dream of. As he pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, he felt his cock harden, he lifted the skirt of your dress quickly and started fingering your wet folds.

“I wanted this for so long..” he said quietly.

“A-Aemond!” You cried out, this encouraged him to speed up, he rubbed fast circles around your clit, Causing your thighs to shake in pleasure.

Aemond captured your lips again, it was urgent and breathless, filled with all of the desires he tried so hard to resist. It was a surrender and a claiming all at once, he was unraveling, your melodic moans more beautiful than any hymn, the taste of rain on your skin felt like the holy water that sanctified this union.

He couldn’t take much more he needed to take you fully, he pulled his cock out from his breaches but before he would shove himself inside you he breathed out,

“Do you truly want this?….with me?”

You looked into his eye, there was so much love and desperation and you just wanted to be loved, you didn’t want to be alone anymore, even if it meant straying away from gods kingdom.

“I want this…with you and only you”

He didn’t waste anytime, he flipped you around and ripped your soaking wet dress from your body, you moaned in approval, you felt him lining his cock against your entrance, you held your breath in anticipation, shuddering when you felt his lithe hands grip your hips…. and then he was fucking you, in and out, in and out.

Both of your moans filled the air, intertwining and harmonizing like a choir, each note a blend of passion and desperation, the melody you made together resonated through the empty church.

The pleasure you felt when you felt the drag of his cock slamming in and out of you was what you could only describe as divine, you looked back behind your shoulder and moaned louder, he looked like an angel like this, you thought, his white hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead and his face held an almost pained expression like one of the saints in the stained glass windows.

He groaned “just like that, just like that take me in all the way”

He plunged himself deep inside you, relishing in the tight embrace of your pussy. With one hand, he lifted your leg, gripping your thigh as he fucked into you with increasing urgency. Your body, overwhelmed with ecstasy, couldn’t hold back any longer. You cried out his name in bliss, feeling the tension snap.

Finally, waves of pleasure crashed over you, your clit pulsing in delight as you let out a passionate moan. You writhed on his lap, riding the high of your climax, before slowly and shakily detaching yourself from his cock and sinking to your knees.

Aemond gazed down at you panting, his chest heaving with desire. He tenderly caressed your cheek with his thumb and brushed a strand of your hair from your flushed cheek, his touch loving and possessive. You were down on your hands and knees for him, not in prayer but in a fervent act of worship of a different kind, one he eagerly accepted.

You took his cock into your mouth, locking eyes with him intensely. A low groan escaped his lips as he couldn't resist gripping your hair, his desire palpable, he tried to stop his hips from bucking into your mouth but when you moaned around him he couldn’t help himself. You continued your ministrations bobbing your head up and down increasing your speed when his moans grew louder.

“Y-Y/n I’m close”

He gazed at you with fervent desire in his half lidded eye as you took him deeper, this made his cock twitch, igniting a fire within him. You looked so beautiful like this, you closed your eyes and moaned deeply, the sight was too much for him unable to contain himself any longer, he surrendered completely, he moaned out your name, pouring his hot cum into your eager mouth, which you gladly swallowed.

As both of you were panting, breaths mingling in the air, he gently pulled you into his lap, cradling you close against his chest. His touch was tender yet possessive, as he kissed your forehead softly, his hands caressing your back in a loving embrace.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice laced with concern, he held you close, your knees drawn up against him.

You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “I’m okay” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your hearts, He kissed your forehead in reply.

the storm outside seemed to grow louder, The windows rattled as though struck by an unseen hand, furious and unyielding.

Aemond pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, the enormity of what he had done crashing down upon him. The storm's fury seemed to intensify, the thunder rolling like the wrath of god himself.

He looked into your eyes, filled with love and fear, with the storm raging outside. He held you close, as if seeking solace in your presence, each flash of lightning a reminder of his failure to his sacred duties. The rain, once gentle and purifying, now felt like a torrent of divine tears, weeping for the sacred vow he had shattered.

“Forgive me, father” he pleaded in his head “For failing you, for failing y/n.”

You gently squeezed his hand, as if reading his thoughts. Neither of you could predict the future, but as the storm eased and sunlight broke through the clouds, he knew deep down that everything would be alright as long as you were together.

Thank you for reading I hope you liked it :> sorry if too ooc

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #prince aemond #hotd season 2 #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond oneshot #aemond smut #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #house targaryen #my writing

359 notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 13 days

Text

Handsome as Life and Poison

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: Retellings

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Defying your father’s sacred command, you wander to the grove where Spring and Autumn blend, only to encounter a sinfully divine figure with glowing amber eyes.

Warnings: sexual content/smut, nsfw! religious & biblical undertones & allusions, reader is overly innocent/naive, implied loss of virginity, sinner eris

Word Count: 3.5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You shouldn't be here.

You can feel it in your bones.

You've never traveled this far, never managed to make it to the border. Your father warned you about this area, where the bloom of spring meets the decay of autumn.

He says that there is evil that lurks under the canopy of fire trees, that the blood of Autumn is so cruel it's cursed their very ground. Father has warned you that if you were to come across a fall beast, you would never return. At least, not the way you once were.

You understand his concerns—to a certain extent. He's protective. He has a certain plan for your life. Safety, purity, security above all. And father has been stressed recently, twitching hands and sharp reprimands.

Your High Lord has descended into madness, moving on all fours, his paws sinking into the mud, more beast than man. He prowls in the darkness now, no better than the creatures he once cared for, and your father believes there’s safety in the small village you call home.

It’s far enough from the heart of Spring to grant a quiet, predictable life. The faces around you never change, familiar and worn like the stones that line the village paths. It's peaceful, quaint—a life promised to you forever once you marry Adramis, the neighbor’s son.

Until then, your father urges you to stay safe, to temper the curiosity he knows stirs within you, the kind that might lead you too far, too soon.

Yet, despite his warnings, you find yourself here, day after day, drawn to the very place you’ve been commanded to avoid.

It's prettier, somehow, at this time of day— in the dim dusk, when the birds are beginning to tire. The air is tinged with an unfamiliar chill, a whisper of the season’s change that beckons you closer. You can see the colors of the autumn leaves clearly, watch as they sway in an intricate dance of red, orange and gold.

The movements stir something within you—a call like the ancient siren songs your father once spoke of, drawing you into the twilight's fire embrace. You take another step further into the shifting hues of the forest.

The rustling of leaves comes to your ears—soft, hesitant, as though a beast moves swiftly through the underbrush. The sounds intensify, multiplying by the second.

Beasts, you think, multiple.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of red hair through the tangled foliage, a figure half-hidden by the encroaching shadows.

You stop, and a sickening thrill rolls through you. You should turn back. But a phantom hand seems to beckon to you, an invisible thread leading you deeper.

Then you see him.

His clothes, finer than any you’ve seen even at your High Lord’s court, cling to his tall, lean frame, the dark green fabric glinting with gold thread that catches the last remnants of the fading sun. Each detail—his long, tailored coat, the sharp lines of his collar—speaks of wealth, power, and a meticulous cruelty you’ve only heard whispers about.

Your breath hitches. You know, deep down, who he is.

He’s surrounded by beasts, ferocious creatures with eyes gleaming in the half-light, their snarls low and guttural. Their presence should terrify you, yet you can barely hear them over the thundering in your chest. You count more of them than you have fingers, but with a subtle motion of the prince's hand, they fall still. Regal, patient, they sit at his side, watching you with the same unnerving calm as their master.

He studies you.

You want to take a step forward, to speak to him, but a rustling sound breaks through the stillness behind you. You turn sharply, scanning the underbrush.

From your side, a firm hand clasps around your arm, jerking you back with startling urgency. Almost immediately, once your body has been moved, the touch leaves you.

You meet the frantic gaze of your fiancé. His eyes are wide and his chest is rising and falling with uneven breaths. He ran here, you conclude. Past the border of Spring.

He's scared. Not just for you—but of something else entirely. Adramis is afraid of your father more than he is of what lurks in these forests.

"What are you doing here?"

“I saw—” You turn quickly, pointing toward where the figure stood moments before, but the woods are empty. The fire hue of his hair, the regal presence, the hounds—all gone, swallowed by the shifting shadows of the trees.

You glance back at Adramis. He's staring at you with furrowed brows, lips pressing together as if he's unsure whether to scold or comfort, wary as if you were troubled in the mind. His eyes scan your face, searching for something. You're not sure what.

“It’s almost dark,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “We should get back.”

There’s no question in his tone. It’s not a suggestion, not really. He’s telling you—gently, but still telling you. He'd never force you, no, Adramis is sweet. Simple. But he’s a male and you are his promised bride. What good would you be if you were to get lost in the autumn woods?

Nothing at all, you suppose.

You don’t answer him. Your mind wanders to the fire-haired prince, to his amber eyes and the strange pull that brought you here.

Your silence seems to worry Adramis more. He steps closer, his hand hovering near your skin but never making contact, as if he’s afraid to touch you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

His voice is soft. Too soft, almost, to where it makes you shiver uncomfortably, like the touch of something too light, too ghostly.

You momentarily expect him to reach out, to place his delicate hand on your forehead or gently touch the flushed skin of your neck. But Adramis only hesitates, his hand hovering in the air for a moment longer before pulling back.

Too good for his nature, too holy to even touch you with a bare hand.

With a slight shake of your head, you dispel the strange sensation that lingers.

“No, I’m alright." You blink and muster a smile. "Thank you.”

He nods, though his eyes remain troubled. You follow him back toward the familiar warmth of home, casting one final, reluctant glance at the encroaching shadows of where autumn's decay kisses the air.

The leaves are aflame with fading light, but beyond them, the darkness waits—quiet, watchful, tempting.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You're grateful for the familiar routine of your father’s sleeping hours, for the certainty that he wouldn't wake for another few hours.

The sun is still waking now, too, its low, gentle light spilling into the navy sky. It is as slow and tentative as you, quiet in its bearings.

The air is cool and biting, the kind of chill that lingers in the space between night and day.

You wrap your cloak tighter against yourself. It's a thin fabric, white with green thread. It does little to ward off the morning’s bite, but you don’t mind. You welcome the cool breaths that manage to slither past the soft cloth.

The scent of the autumn forest is sharper, more vivid than the soft blooms of home, where everything is neat and ordered. It smells richer, more alive. As traitorous as it feels, you almost prefer it.

It’s only a short walk before you find yourself in the familiar patch of trees. The autumn leaves sing their song, that same siren call that led you here again.

And he’s there—alone this time. Waiting.

His amber eyes gleam and shine with a glow that you’re certain is sinful. You know, deep down, that you should leave, that holding even his gaze, with that burning stare, is treacherous. But you do not.

You're unsure of what to say, unsure if you should wait for him to speak. He pushes himself off the tree he'd rested against.

"Hello again, little lamb."

His voice drips with a smooth, hypnotic cadence. It wraps around you like an incantation, compelling and unholy.

It's strange to see him before you, to have him acknowledge you, to hear his voice directly. You glance around him almost instinctively, as if expecting his hounds to materialize from the shadows, to form a regal, beastly, floor-lain crown once more.

As if he senses your question by look alone, he lets out a small laugh.

"It's early," he says. "Even beasts must sleep at times, too."

Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upwards. He scans your face, taking another step towards you. You stand still, remain in the spot you had froze in. He begins to study you, walks around you like a shrine.

"A bit far from your home. Curiosity must be a powerful force."

He stops before you. You can smell him now. It envelops you—rich and intoxicating, a blend of autumn leaves and something darker, more primal. You clench at the sensation, a sweet tingle spreading through your body. It courses from your head to your fingertips, settling deep in your now aching core.

"My father says it's my nature."

Eris hums. The answer seems to please him. "And what else does your father say?"

You admire him for a fleeting moment. When the gentle breeze rakes its fingers through his hair, it glows like a live fire. Freckles dot his skin, spread across the pale coloring like the stars you adore in the sky. His eyes are a molten gold that match the detailing on his fine coat.

"That I shouldn't be here," you finally respond.

A serpent-like smile curls at his lips. It spreads slowly.

"And yet here you are."

You nod. The faintest shiver of fear lingers in your veins, but you're unable to tear your eyes from him. You feel an inexplicable pull, wishing for him to come closer, to feel the brush of his presence against you.

Eris takes a step forward, his hand extending to graze the edge of your cloak. The touch is feather-light, a barely-there whisper of contact that sends a jolt through you. But it's firmer than Adramis's touch. It leaves you wanting more.

"Do you know who I am?"

You nod again. "Prince," you say, almost timidly. Quiet like a prey. "Son of the High Lord."

"Eris," he corrects. "My name is Eris."

"Eris," you repeat, his name falling from your lips like a comfortable prayer. You want to say it again, to taste the sweetness it offers your senses.

"And you are?"

You pause, brows furrowing slightly as you hold his gaze. His eyes still gleam, still glow with something so deliciously sinful, but something in them coaxes an answer from you.

"Y/n."

A moment passes. Eris takes a breath.

"Why did you return, Y/n?"

The way he says your name—a silky caress, a whispered secret—makes you yearn for him to repeat it, to let it roll off his tongue again and again. You have never heard anything so beautiful, so mouth-watering. You've never felt a desire this strong.

You struggle to find words, your head shaking slightly. “I-I don’t know.”

Eris’s gaze drifts to your lips, eyes darkening with a predatory curiosity. You're acutely aware of your lip trapped between your teeth and self-consciously release it, swallowing hard.

His eyes are intense as he meets yours again, almost devouring. But not scary. Not terrifying like you'd once believed.

"Does your village bore you?"

He knows where you live. That buried sense of fear begins to flare and you blink, swallowing hard as you take his presence in once more. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything else. Slowly, the fear dissipates.

"Yes," you admit. There is a stillness in your home that bores you. It makes your bones ache with craving. "But it is all I know."

He studies you for what feels like an eternity, his gaze intense and all-consuming. His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the fabric of your cloak once more.

"You should return home, little lamb. Your father is going to worry."

Eris turns and leaves before you have a chance to respond.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The secret should make you feel dirty, feel guilty like a reckless child, but it does not.

You wake before dawn and, like clockwork, you're traveling before the first ray of morning.

It's become routine now.

You approach the familiar area, where the border of Autumn seems to hold its breath, waiting for you. And there, amid the crimson and gold of fallen leaves, lies Eris.

He’s sprawled on a blanket laid out on the ground, a feast spread before him. The array of foods is a vision plucked from your most indulgent dreams, an array of rich, and tempting dishes. Your mouth waters at the sight—at the lavish feast and the male who has provided it.

"Come," he beckons and pats the blanket beside him. "Sit."

You lower yourself, the fabric soft beneath you. The scents of the feast rise to meet you, mingling in the crisp autumn air. You turn to him, your large eyes drinking in the sight before you, the face of celestial allure: hair like a smoldering fire, eyes glowing with the golden light of autumnal sunsets. Eris’s features are etched with an ethereal grace that seems both ancient and timeless. With each passing day, you find yourself yearning to worship at his feet, to forge a devotion just for him.

“Eris?”

A melodic hum leaves his throat. “Yes, little lamb?”

“Why do you call me that? ‘Little lamb.’”

Eris's fingers graze your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. "I believe you know," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing caress.

"Why did you seek me out again?” You ask him, “Why do you wait here?"

A smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He lets his fingers trace the line of your lips, his touch light as a sigh. “I believe you know that, too.”

Eris's eyes glint with something that seems almost divine. It is unlike anything that you’ve ever known, nothing like the stories your father has told you. Your gaze drifts to the feast laid out before you. You reach for a small, perfectly ripe apple, its glossy skin catching the muted light. The fruit feels cool and smooth against your fingers.

Somehow, autumn's bounty surpasses even the lush abundance of spring.

A sense of longing stirs within you.

How naïve you had been to think that your village, your court, held all the wonders the world had to offer. You had planned to stay, to settle into a life of security and predictability, never daring to venture beyond what was known.

You turn to Eris once more. His eyes flicker, amber catching the light as he reaches out, fingers brushing against your arm. His touch is featherlight, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through you.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you confess, "I want to know a life bigger than my village."

“You wish to be free, little lamb?” He trails his hand down to where the apple rests in your grip, and with a slow motion, he gently takes it from you. "I can show you," he murmurs, turning the fruit over in his palm. His voice is like honey, rich and smooth. "You’ll know life—pleasure, want. All of it."

A tingle spreads through your body at his words, your breath shallow as you nod, leaning unconsciously into the heat of his presence.

“Yes," you breathe, the word barely a whisper. "I want to be free.”

Eris’s lips curl into a grin, a quiet satisfaction settling in his gaze. He looks pleased, eager, as if he’s waited for this moment since time itself began. He draws closer and you can feel his presence everywhere, consuming, enveloping.

His lips brush against your ear. “Then let me show you.”

The apple falls from his hand, forgotten. He inches closer, the space between you dissolving as his warmth spills over you. A hand finds the delicate line of your throat, fingers grazing against your pulse. With the lightest pressure, he lifts your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch feels like a benediction.

He’s so close now that his breath melds with yours, the air around you thick with the scent of earth and fire. The world shrinks and the only thing that exists is him—his heat, his gaze, the slow, measured closeness that steals away your reason. His lips hover just above yours, and the ache of not touching nearly brings you to begging.

The first brush of his mouth against yours is light, a whisper, a tease, and you tremble beneath it. And then he claims you, his lips pressing against yours with a slow, haunting fervor. Your body goes slack as his movements seem to weave a spell, binding you to him with every caress of his tongue, every sigh he draws from your lips.

You feel him guiding you, lowering you gently onto the blanket beneath, the world beneath you falling away. Eris hovers above you and dips his head, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your neck. His mouth sears your senses as he works his way down, the press of his touch growing heavier, more possessive with every inch.

“Such beauty,” he murmurs, “Unfolding before me like the dawn. You were meant to be here.”

His words fall like a decree, a promise, and his lips continue their journey down, parting from your skin only to explore further. His fingers find the fabric of your dress.

The air shifts around you, something soft brushing against your skin, falling away with the gentleness of leaves in autumn, leaving you bare to the elements—and to Eris. The cool air grazes your skin in places untouched by even the sun.

His calloused hands explore your bare form, one cupping your breast, fingers pressing and kneading with a practiced touch. His lips follow, settling on the other, and your hands grip the blanket beneath you— knuckles white as he demands your gaze to remain on him. His tongue circles your nipple, amber eyes locked with yours, burning, all consuming.

Eris continues his careful exploration, moving downward as his lips follow the path of his hands.

Fingers spread you apart with a confident touch.

The sensation is profound and awakening, a mingling of sacred heat and cool anticipation. The essence of your very being is laid bare before him. You feel the brush of his fingertips against the tender places, feel as his lips follow with a similar reverence, their touch becoming a worship of its own.

And then he devours you with his mouth and hands.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing core, flicking and teasing your sensitive nub. Your entire body quivers beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensations you’ve never known before—an innocent purity being slowly unraveled and transformed by his touch alone. You tangle a hand in his auburn hair as his fingers plunge deep inside you, scissoring and pumping, working you over until you’re a quivering mess of desire.

Your body responds instinctively. You’re writhing and squirming, small sounds of pleasure falling from your lips. He bathes in the moans, groans in response as you repeat his name like a prayer.

Eris sits up and soon you’re staring at his sculpted form, bare before you, ready to be worshiped, touched as he had explored you. His hardened length rests against you, blunt tip against your aching core, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer. The crown of him splits you open with a steady pressure and he fills you completely, a divine intrusion that makes you gasp with the pleasure of being so thoroughly claimed.

Eris stills, his body pressed flush against yours, your walls clenching around him as you adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Let me show you how pleasurable life can be.” Eris leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. “Just tell me you’re mine.”

You arch into him. “I’m yours,” you whisper, voice trembling with surrender. “Free me.”

And as he begins to move, begins to roll his hips against yours, you turn your head, gaze falling to the apple lying beside you, untouched yet no longer gleaming—its perfect surface now bruised, smeared with the dirt of the earth.

Father was right about one thing.

You'd come across a beast, indeed, and you could never return.

Not fully.

Not the way you once were.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

author's note: happy retelling day from ur local exmormon!! im an eve defender till i die. biblical lore goes crazyyyy

as always, thank you for reading <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos

216 notes · View notes

dark-and-kawaii · 4 months

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Pleasing Him ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✧˖°. Summary: You smiled softly and pressed your cheek into his palm, nuzzling it, a sweet little purr noise escaped you, you had been craving his touch for so long.

✧˖°. Content: NSWF - Your Mouth Wrapped Around Zevlor’s Beautiful Cock - Mention Of Creampie - On Your Knees For Him - His Hand Tangled In Your Hair - Cuddles

✧˖°. Ship: Zevlor x F!Reader/Tav

Notes: I was just really horny the other night thinking about Zevlor, thus this came to life. Please enjoy xoxo fun little twist at the end.

Inch by inch you slowly take Zevlor’s cock down your tight throat. His bulging veins grazing the top of your mouth, his pre-cum dribbling out onto your tongue as your drool spills out of the corner of your lips. Despite gagging you refused to pull back, even as the tears welled up in the corner of your eyes, even as the bile burned the back of your throat.

You wanted to impress this hellrider, wanted to show him how well you could take him, how good of a whore you could be for him and only him. It’s been so long since someone’s touched him like this, you knew this and knew he deserved the best. Plus the way he’s holding his face, attempting to hide his facial expressions from you is just so adorable.

A smirk graces your face, he can hide his face all he wishes, but he can’t hide those sweet moans and pants that slip through his lips. He can’t hide how his thighs shake, the way his tail thumps against the wall, or how his muscles tense up every time your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, flicking against the large veins there.

Slowly you pulled back, his cock slipping from your mouth with a loud pop and a string of drool connecting you to the tip, “You taste so good-“ Your tongue slowly collects the precum leaking from his tip, “-I think I might be addicted~”

Zevlor groans, his hand falling from his face to the wall, gripping at the stones there as he tries to catch his breath, “Gods- This feels-ah-“ Zevlor felt as if he could collapse, his legs felt so weak, and his cock twitches needily, the sight of your flushed cheeks and red, swollen lips making it twitch again, more precum leaking out and spilling down his shaft.

You lick your lips, collecting the delicious salty beads that had leaked out, and you gently take his cock back into your hand, giving him a few slow pumps, “Zevlor~ I think I could spend all night on my knees for you~ could suck you off everyday if I get to drink your cum like this, it's so tasty~”

You lick your lips before taking him back into your mouth, causing Zevlor to hiss at the feeling, his cock already so sensitive. He was so close to cumming, you could feel it, the way his cock would jump and twitch in your mouth. You took him down deeper, bobbing your head, moaning as you went. Your eyes closed as you focused on him.

As you start milking his beautiful cock with your mouth, you could feel every ridge of his cock massaging your throat walls. Could feel his veins twitch as they bulged, his cock twitching, ready to blow. You heard him curse before his hips began to buck involuntarily into your warm, plush mouth, “Tav- i- I can’t hol-d”

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted him to use you like the fucktoy you wished to be for him. You moaned loudly as you blinked up at him so sinfully wicked. Your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks and you pulled him out just long enough to beg him to use your mouth and fill your starved tummy with his seed, “s’please~ Commander~ need you to fill me good~.”

Zevlor couldn't help but give into his desire, it truly has been too long, he’d be a fool not to. He couldn’t deny you anymore. He needed this as much as you did…

Grabbing a handful of your hair to hold you steady, his other hand on the wall to steady himself, he rams his cock back inside, thrusting his hips forward to get the last couple inches of his cock down your tight little throat. He could see the way his cock bulged in your throat, and he couldn’t resist reaching down to place his hand against it, grunting as he felt his cock move inside your throat.

Zevlor fucks your mouth, his hips thrusting in and out, his cock being engulfed by the heat of your throat. Hells you felt so fucking good. He couldn’t get enough of it, you were perfect. You whimpered and choked on his cock, the way you could barely breathe was such a fucking turn on, though he’d never admit it.

Zevlor didn't care about anything else right now except the way your throat hugged his cock. A part of him deep down even wished that the fool named Aradin would walk in, would see him a tiefling having his way with you, see how well you suck him off. It would serve him right, the idiot.

You groaned around his cock, the feeling of him roughly hitting the back of your throat. Knocking the wind out of you with each thrust, the way his pubic hairs tickled your nose as he pushed in deep, made you clench your legs together.

You could feel your cunt throbbing, begging to be filled next, begging to taste his cum deep within your womb… The mess your juices were making on the ground was proof enough.

Zevlor never thought he’d get a chance like this, never thought you would be the one to give it to him… You were a vision of beauty, even more than he imagined. Your eyes locked on him with such devotion, your lips stretched around his thick cock, the way your cheeks flushed such a beautiful shade of red, how you whimpered, choked, and gagged on his cock was so stunning, and the tears that spilled down your face were a sight to behold.

“Ta-Tav, -“ Zevlor chokes on a moan, his hips thrusting erratically as he loses his pace, his legs shake, and his balls tighten as he nears his orgasm. It's been so long since he's had an orgasm, he's genuinely surprised he’s lasted this long. He didn't think it would be possible with a mouth like yours.

You felt him throbbing and you know what's coming. Your cunt drools with anticipation, you wanted his seed so badly, wanted to taste it, wanted to feel it in you, to feel it slosh around inside your gut.

Then you felt it. A thick glob of his cum spurted down your throat, filling you with its warmth. And you eagerly swallow the first load, the second quickly following, and then a third, fourth, and fifth. Zevlor was cumming in huge spurts, each one filling your belly, making you feel full, warm, and satisfied.

His grip tightened, his knuckles turning into a pale red as his body shakes, his tail wrapping around your neck to keep you from pulling away. His legs threatening to give as he cums, and cums, and cums, all the while you were gulping him down.

You both stayed like this, Zevlor panting heavily, his head against the stone wall, his chest heaving as he attempted to calm his breathing. And you, your own body shaking as you finished swallowing his copious amount of seed, your throat sore from how long he had been fucking it.

You didn't mind though, the look of bliss on his face was worth it.

His hand moves from your throat to caress your face, gently urging you to release his cock, “That was… thank you, Tav. I didn’t think I could feel that good again- or that you would.. be willing- or even want me to.. use you- in that manner- but, you..”

With a small pop his cock slips from your lips, you gasp as air suddenly rushes back into your lungs, making you cough, your eyes closing as you hold your chest. You heard a pained grunt coming from Zevlor, slowly he knelt down to be eye level with you and you could feel his tail brushing along your back.

Once the coughing had subsided and the tears cleared from your eyes, you looked at him… His eyes were filled with worry and full of guilt…

“Zevlor-? Zev- You-“ You smiled softly and pressed your cheek into his palm, nuzzling it, a purr escaping you, you had been craving his touch for so long, “You did nothing wrong, my sweet Zevlor, I-I wanted this. I enjoyed myself, didn’t you?.. I didn't want to stop, even when it hurt and I couldn't breathe, it just felt so good knowing I was the one giving you pleasure…”

Zevlor's brows knit, his eyes searching your own, he couldn't believe this was happening, but he wanted to, Gods did he want to believe it. He didn't want this to be a dream, didn't want this to be a hallucination brought upon him from the years of isolation he'd endured.

He wanted this to be real.

And then, Zevlor did something you hadn't expected, he pressed his lips against yours. A kiss. Zevlor kissed you... It was a small kiss, but it conveyed everything he wanted to say.

By the end of the night, you were a mess. Covered in his dried seed, your cunt gaping with his cum leaking out of it, your skin drenched in sweat… A smile spread across your face as Zevlor held your sleeping body against his on his bedroll. His heart was still racing, his tail caressing your thigh, and a smile was stuck to his face. To think he was ready to praise the absolute and turn against you…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor nation #bg3 smut #baldurs gate #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader

180 notes · View notes

jennifer-jeong · 5 months

Note

please kaeya smut fanfic female reader 🙏

U and him 7minutes in heaven 👹

I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON FJDKAL;FJDSA; THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST AND I HOPE YOU LIKE WHAT I DID WITH IT >:) I really wanted to make it detailed because I love Kaeya and I haven’t written this concept before but I’ve read so many fics like it and I adore it. It turned out much longer than I anticipated but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you all enjoy!

Smut | Kaeya Alberich x AFAB!Reader 7 Minutes in Heaven

CONTENT NSFW, 18+, smut, assigned female at birth (AFAB) reader, feminine reader implied, drinking/alcohol consumption, mutual pining, kissing, hickeys, biting, nipple play, blowjob, fingering, vaginal penetration, clit play, creampie, fluffy confession!, spending the night and cuddling hehe, college AU, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

WORD COUNT: 3797

Exam season is coming up but you and your friends thought it’d be good to unwind a bit and take a break from studying by going to a house party. You’re all mutual with the hosts, Kaeya and Diluc. You’re good friends with the two brothers and of course you’re always invited to their “little” house parties. It always turns out to be something like 100 people but their house is big enough that it holds you all comfortably really.

You and your friends pregame a bit and get dolled up to enjoy the party. When you get there, you text Kaeya but as you start typing, a familiar presence appears in front of you along with the warm smell of cologne filling your head.

“Hey! You made it,” the blue haired man chirps at you with a smile.

“Yeah, figured it’d be a good break from studying. I think we all deserve it,” you chuckle while giving Kaeya a comforting look. Letting him know that he also deserves a break from working so hard.

“I’ll drink to that. Let's get you something.” Mr. Eyepatch says as he turns to let you walk in front of him, his hand hovering over the small of your back, something you pretend to not notice. Similarly, he pretends to not see the slight flush on the tip of your ears.

You’re enjoying the bustle, music, and dancing with your friends when you catch Diluc rolling his eyes at Kaeya. You go to check out what the brothers are yapping about this time when Kaeya perks up upon seeing you.

“Hey! Perfect. Come with me,” Kaeya yells over the music as he grabs you by the wrist past Diluc who you share a concerned smile with.

“We needed one more but that dickhead didn’t wanna join,” he says while smiling and obviously meaning it in an affectionate way towards his beloved brother.

You raise an eyebrow at him until you see the small congregation of roughly a dozen people sitting in a circle spinning a bottle.

You’re tipsy but sitting next to Kaeya, unsure of what the bottle means, sobers you up a bit. Before you even get to question what the reward or punishment is for the bottle landing on you, the open top of the bottle points to you. Kaeya makes a silly shocked face at you while your face burns, he motions to tell you to spin the bottle and before you know it, it feels like the room is silent despite the blaring music and the bottle stops just left of you. Kaeya was to the left of you. You stare at it for a few seconds before a wave of emotion washes over you. Was it fear? Excitement? Dread? Lust?

You didn’t really have time to think. The group gives a collective “oooooooo” before a few of them shove you and Kaeya into a closet down the hall and lock you inside.

“7 minutes, lovebirds!” You hear before the door closes, unable to even make out who it was.

If you hadn’t sobered up enough already, you were basically stone cold sober now.

You could just barely make out Kaeya’s face in the low light peeking in through the bottom of the door. The closet just barely fit you two, it was maybe 1 m by 1 m at most. Your senses come back to you and you realize you’re smelling Kaeya’s scent again. He always smells so good, it’s a musky but sweet scent that mixes with the smell of his skin so sinfully. You hear your mixed breaths, you’re both breathing harder than usual and you swear you can hear each other's heartbeats. The closet is stuffy, the house is already hot from being jam packed with bodies and the closet having barely any airflow isn’t helping. It feels like an eternity as you take in your surroundings but it’s only been a few seconds since the door shut.

Kaeya is pressed against the wall opposite to you, trying to give you as much space as he can in the minimal space.

You blink a few times as you part your lips to speak but nothing comes out.

Kaeya breaks the silence first.

“Uhh… Heyyy…?” He says, meaning for it to be ironically flirty, but it comes out sheepishly.

You both pause for half a second before bursting out in giggles.

“I’m sorry, we really don’t have to do anything, I was just teasing,” he says confidently but you can tell he’s a bit nervous by the way he swallows hard.

“Don’t apologize,” you giggle at his mild embarrassment. “I’m at least glad it’s you in here with me,” you say as your face burns.

“Oh?” He says as his shock slowly turns into a smirk. The air suddenly felt impossibly hotter, the closet was infinitely smaller, and your senses went into overdrive.“You’re glad?”

Your eyes dart around, looking away and then back at him. “Y-you heard me,” you stutter, trying to salvage your confidence.

He takes a step forward to close the already non existent space between you two.

You hold your breath as you look slightly upwards at the taller man, caging you against the wall with his frame.

You don’t notice but his hands are shaky at his sides. He takes a leap of faith though and reaches his hand up to hook a finger under your chin, keeping you looking at him.

You hear his breathing speed up as your heart pounds in your ears. You’ve known Kaeya for a few years now and of course you’ve always had a small crush on him but you never wanted to risk losing your friendship by taking things further. Little did you know, he felt the same.

Your palms press into the narrow wall behind you as you flatten yourself against it. Kaeya leans in, his thumb sliding across your jaw, as he moves towards your right ear. Goosebumps already popping up all over your body.

“So… Do I have your permission to make you… even more glad? He speaks in a husky voice you’ve never heard before and it makes your body burn.

He finds amusement in the slight panic you have in your eyes but his mind is racing. He’s anxious, turned on, bashful, terrified, burning, and he knows that you’re both the poison and the antidote.

You lightly nod your head quickly in response, he sees it, but knows you’ve been drinking tonight.

“Needa hear you say it darling.”

“Please… Kaeya… I want this, I want you”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath.

He’s teetering on the edge of losing his self control. He grabs your face with both hands, and moves in to kiss you but the last bit of his sanity needs to ask you for consent even if you already just gave it to him.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, his vodka and cranberry juice scented breath hitting your face from how close he is.

You barely hesitate to bring your hands up to cup his face as well and slam your lips onto his. His lips are soft as they move against yours. Your mind is in overdrive, sparks flying as you realize you’re kissing Kaeya. You’d be lying if you said you never thought about doing this. But actually doing it feels absolutely amazing.

He pushes you against the wall after his initial shock of you making your move wears off. His eyes were wide open until he realized you were kissing him. Now his eyes are squeezed shut, enjoying the taste of your sweet saliva as it sends blood straight to his dick. At this point you’re already soaked. A damp patch is most definitely visible on your panties and heat is pooled at your core.

You make another bold move to lick your tongue across Kaeya’s bottom lip, asking him for access to his tongue. He happily obliges as your tongues greet each other, the sliding and contact making you both moan into each other's mouths. Your tongues dance as they circle around each other. Fuck. He was a good kisser.

Kaeya presses closer to you to deepen the kiss and he realizes he feels your breasts now pressed up to him and it feels heavenly. He loves it. It makes him reach his hands down to cup one in each hand. It makes you whimper into the kiss.

Hands find their way up your shirt, under your bra. He pulls away to help you take off your shirt as he admires your lacy bra.

“Fuck, I’ve needed y’so bad… You don’t even know.” He says, words dripping with lust.

You slip the straps of your bra off your shoulders as he kneads your tits.

“Maybe…” You start, as you reach behind to unclip your bra. He lets go for a second, allowing it to fall to the floor. He freezes momentarily as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. You slide your hands down from the top of his chest, nails lightly scratching over his shirt.

I do know…” You finish as you palm over his obvious hard on through his pants.

He looks down as he moans. His lips are immediately on yours again as he starts playing with your perky nipples. You continue to feel his length through the fabric, your cunt clenching around nothing as you feel how fucking big he is.

He starts kissing down your neck, lightly sucking as he makes his way to your chest. He slurs as he speaks. “Needed ya since I first laid eyes on you.” He takes a nipple in his mouth and swirls his tongue around, making you throw your head back with a moan. He looks up at you with his uncovered eye so he can see the pretty and lewd expression you’re making. You hold eye contact with him and you swear he’s going to be the death of you.

Soon after, you plop down onto your knees, undoing his pants as you look up at him. He groans as you finally free his cock from the confines of his pants. You pump his length a few times with your hand then you flatten your tongue on the base of the underside of his dick, dragging your tongue up the entire length. Kaeya’s hands slam against the walls to the side of him to find some sort of purchase. He groans loud as you continue to lick stripes on his already leaky cock.

You decide to tease him a bit by taking your sweet time, avoiding putting your lips around the tip on purpose. He wants to protest but it already feels so fucking good and he’s honestly already close. He knows that if he felt your throat around him right now, he’d cum. So he lets you continue your shenanigans.

“F-fuck, feels s’good princess,” he groans out. You give him a small “yeah?” while your lips are dragging along his length and the vibration shoots up his spine. He tries to calm himself down and distracts himself with holding back your hair, collecting it into a ponytail behind you.

After a minute or so of teasing the poor man, he’s gotten impatient. He pulls your hair tighter and it makes you moan and you know it’s about time.

“You look so pretty on your knees baby. Open up f’me, please…”

You grab the base with your hand and swirl your tongue around his tip, enjoying his slightly bitter but sweet precum. Kaeya exhales, taking in the change in sensation. He was holding back bucking his hips into your mouth because it felt so good. He was so fucking sensitive because of you and how much you turned him on..

You started to slowly ease him into your mouth. Pushing down, pulling up, and pushing down even further. As you finally sink down fully, deepthroating him, you keep eye contact with him. He’s a nervous but brave mess. His face is flushed and his bangs are messy and stuck to his forehead. You hold yourself there until you pull all the way back so you can breathe. Kaeya lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding but you don’t give him time to relax. You start bobbing your head on his length, your hand covering any parts of the base too difficult for you to reach with your mouth.

“A-ah! Sh-shit!” He moans as you continue your pace. It was so warm and intense for him and as much as you might’ve suspected Kaeya to be a player with dozens of bodies, you were pretty sure he wasn’t super into that, which would explain how sensitive he was with you right now. Honestly, you found it cute and hot, it turned you on knowing how good you were making him feel. Only you, no one else.

You fully deepthroat him again, and he holds you there by your hair, throwing his head back from the pleasure. When you pull off, he pulls you back even further so he can scoop you up and stand you up again. He properly takes his pants off to push your bodies towards the wall. You moan from the way he’s almost manhandling you. He grabs your right leg to hook it up, giving his hand access to your pussy. He rubs around your clit and dips down to circle your entrance before repeating the motion, earning moans from you.

“Such a good girl, making me feel s’good,” he says while kissing your neck. “Gonna make you feel good now m’kay? You deserve it… Wanna feel you cum on me baby.” After his sentence his mouth latches onto the sweet spot on your neck and he bites down as he sucks a hickey onto you. Your eyes roll back into your head as he slowly sinks two fingers into your aching cunt as he sucks on your neck.

“Mmph! K-Kaeya-... ah~!” You whimper out as he starts pumping his digits in and out of you, making a “come here” motion with his fingers.

“Mm? This is the spot right? This little spongey part?” He says as he stops pulling his fingers out to just massage the spot as you clench on him, only able to moan in response. “Ahh, I thought so” he says with a low chuckle, his eyes lidded.

Your hands tangle in Kaeya hair as you pull him to your lips, kissing him sloppily as he fingers you. His thumb now playing with your clit while two fingers toy with your insides.

Your core starts to tighten and you realize you’re close. Fuck, he knew exactly how to make you cum and somehow that was turning you on more. You pull back from the kiss to look him in the eyes.

“Kaeya… p-please… Please fuck me,” you say between breaths.

Your flustered face, your scent, his hickey on your neck, your doe eyes looking up at him, and your words send any of the blood in his brain straight to his twitching cock as his breath hitched. He pulls his fingers out of you and grabs the back of your legs to hold you up.

“As you wish princess,” he says with a smirk, clearly drunk off your body.

Your legs wrap around his torso while your arms hold his shoulders, allowing him to line himself up with your entrance. He pops his tip in before returning to holding you so he can slowly ease in.

You simultaneously groan at the feeling as he slowly pushes in. You pull yourself flush against his chest, hugging him and dragging your nails along his chiseled back. His hands are gripping your ass, holding you up but also enjoying holding the plush and spreading you apart however he likes.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls out to allow your slick to cover his length. WIthout warning he bottoms out in you from all the lubrication you were making for him. You nearly scream and his knees buckle at the sensation and idea that he’s fully sheathed inside you right now. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving indents from how hard you were gripping his back.

“F-fuck, y-you fill me up s’good,” you mewl to him.

“Ngh it’s like we were fucking made for each other, you’re a perfect fit baby.”

He starts to rock back and forth, holding you in place with his hands while he thrusts his hips back and forth. Going slow at first to give you time to adjust. But, already his veiny cock was dragging along all your sensitive spots so devilishly. You felt every inch of him stretch you out and it was so fucking filthy but in the best way possible. You bite onto his shoulder to muffle your moans and to also mark him in return.

He starts to speed up as he feels you twitch around him. “You’re taking me so well darling, you’re doing so good f’me,” he moans out to you.

“Nghh… f-uck, feels s’good,” you slur out to him, mind turning to mush.

“Hold tight pretty girl,” he says as he continues his fast pace.

You throw your head back and it thumps on the wall behind you as you let out a loud moan you barely recognized. It was genuinely reflexive from how good he was making you feel, it was natural that you were going to moan like that if he was going to stimulate you in the best ways.

Your eyes start to roll into the back of your head as he still pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping together now filling the closet from how close and deep he was fucking you.

“Atta girl… let me make you feel good” he says into the crook of your neck.

“K-Kaeya…” you stutter out, borderline delirious from the pleasure. “M’getting c-close.”

“Yeah baby? Gonna make you cum all over me?” He continues his pace as he pulls back to admire you and press a thumb to your clit. Your pretty tits are bouncing with every thrust as you arch your back. You’re looking at him but your eyes are glazed over, tongue lolled out slightly, cock drunk on the man. As he plays with your clit, your walls clench down on him hard as you approach your high. It’s driving him crazy.

“Fuckkk. Mmph- gonna make me cum ngh,” he moans out to you.

Your body is so sensitive at this point and you can’t think about anything other than how good Kaeya is fucking you right now. Your “hah’s” turn into “mmm’s” that rise in pitch as you get closer and closer. You squeeze your eyes shut and let your head fall to the side.

He can feel your twitching and the way your grip on his back almost breaks skin. He knows you’re teetering on the edge with him and so he tells you to go first. “F-fuck, cum for me princess, please.”

You clamp down fully on him as his thumb’s movements become sloppy and his thrusts become irregular. “K-Kaeya!” you nearly yell out as you cum. White hot pleasure runs through your body as he stimulates both your clit and g-spot, even your a-spot as his tip kisses your cervix over and over. The drag of his cock on your gummy walls is driving you crazy as waves rack through your body, perceiving nothing but the intense bliss.

The extra pressure of your walls on his dick, your uncontrolled moans, and just the simple fact that he’s making you cum sends him over the edge with you and he lets you know with a strained “c-cumming!”

You feel hot cum fill you as he gives a last few pumps into you, helping you both ride out your orgasms, he eventually slows as he twitches inside. He holds you close and wraps his arms around your waist as you hug his neck. Both of you finally coming down from your high, breathing hard. Your sweaty bodies skin to skin, enjoying the afterglow and each other’s company.

“Holy… shit” he says between panting as you giggle. He puts you down on your feet, still holding your waist since you were wobbly, your legs shaky. You help him lean his back against the wall, knowing he’s also probably weak in the knees after all that.

You push up against him as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. “That was pretty amazing,” you giggle before looking away. “Is this… a one time thing though?”

He reacts quickly despite his fatigue and looks you in the eyes, concern evident. “Oh my god no… well, at least I was hoping it wouldn’t be,” he responds honestly, not sure if you were hoping for the same thing.

You close your eyes and exhale, “oh thank god,” you laugh. “I really do like you, so…”

His eyes widen slightly “I like you too,” he says with a chuckle, almost not believing that he’s getting to say this to you right now.

You look into his eye(s) and smile before laying your head onto his chest.

He stays like that with you for a second in disbelief and bliss. Then he reaches for his pants to grab his phone, calling one of the mansion’s attendants to this specific closet, asking for robes.

“Would you like to…” he starts, unsure of himself, “stay the night?... My bed should fit us comfortably.”

“I’d love to, Kaeya. Thank you for asking.” You reply, feeling a tug in your chest at how sweet and bashful he was. Similarly, he feels the same tug in his chest at your saccharine words and pretty smile.

After the attendant hands the robes into the closet and you two cover up, you run to his room hand in hand, giggling as you both try to avoid any party goers, realizing that they completely forgot to get you after 7 minutes, not that either of you are complaining. He requested for your clothes to be brought up after so for now he offered you his pj’s and his bathroom in case you wanted to shower or just to clean up.

Soon after, he invited you into his bed for some cuddles. You’d probably both talk about the serious relationship stuff later but for now, you were both quiet, looking into each other's eyes, holding each other close. The fatigue from drinking and your closet escapade quickly caught up with you two as you relaxed into the plush mattress. You two drifted off into sleep, content in each other's arms and also excited for what the future would hold for you, after you help with party cleanup in the morning of course.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

#kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich smut #reader x kaeya #j's silly ramblings #j's asks

198 notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 1 year

Note

Could I request NSFW with Hades from RoR doing the deed with his fem s/o in private and trying to not get caught by the servants?

“Ah~!”

Hades chuckled in your ear as he continued to thrust slowly into you. “You have to be quiet my love.” He sinfully whispered in your ear, causing a deep moan.

The evening had been completely normal. Typical fanfare, dinner, etcetera, before Hades retired to his office for the evening to finish up some paperwork while you read in the parlor. Once it had gotten late you made way for the bedroom to retire, certain that Hades would join you shortly.

On the way, however, you were suddenly snatched up and pulled into a small secret passage down the hall. Your instincts to scream if not the hand on your mouth.

“Sssh!” Hades whispered. “You don’t want the servants to hear.”

“Hades.” You hiss once he had removed his hand from your mouth. “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t wait to have you.”

His hands moved down your body towards your hips and back. Caressing you with a clear intent of what he was planning.

“Couldn’t we just go to our bedroom?” You ask. Feeling your face heat at his touches. Remembering, still, that you were very much technically in the middle of a hallway in the castle.

Hades just grinned as he leaned down to kiss you. “What’s the fun in that?”

His lips were soft but strong. Kissing you passionately in a way that would make your legs weak, if not for being pinned against a wall. Your hands had just reached for his hair during your kissing when you heard the hurried steps of a servant rush by. “Hades! We have to stop this. Someone might—” Your protest was cut off by a moan when his hand slipped under your dress skirt and began to touch you.

“That’s the fun of it.” He insisted. “The thrill of being caught. The thrill of being seen. In any case, they’re my servants. If I wished it I could call them all here to watch as I fondle you.”

“No don’t do that!”

The god smirked. “Really? Your wet as October now that I mentioned it.” To prove his point Hades slipped two fingers inside of you with ease. His thumb brushing your clit for good measure to make sure it didn’t hurt.

You whimper at his insistent pressure. Helpless against him and this pleasure. Together for a while he knew exactly how to touch you to make you cum, or wait, or start beginning. Luckily for you it was the first one.

Cumming quickly after his fingers were inside you, your body shuttered against the god who held you close. His lips brushed against your temple before he pulled his fingers out and asked you, “could you turn around for me love?” Your orgasm idled brain didn’t seem to process, so he explained further. “It will be easier in the narrow space.”

You don’t really understand the physics, but you are too in love, too enamored, and too eager to have Hades inside you to care how it all worked out. You simply turn around and place your hands against the wall for him. “Perfection.”

There was some rustling behind you, then your skirts came up. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation. Your face hot with embarrassment, but every other part of you hot with want. His body came close behind you and he told your quietly, “try to be quiet my love.” An ask easier said than done as he slid his hard cock into you.

You can almost taste blood with how hard you were holding your lip between your teeth as he thrust into you. Not really thrust but rocked. The pace is slow and deep. Seeming to be careful not to hit your head on the stone wall in front of you. “Hades,” you whisper back in a plea, “please….”

“They’ll hear the smacking.”

A soft whimper escaped you as you remembered you were in the middle of the castle doing this, and that Hades couldn’t fuck you hard & fast like you wanted here. “Does that make you excited my love?”

“N…No….” You stammer out. One trying to collect your thoughts to speak at all, and two to speak through the jarring of your body as he suddenly thrust harder. “I’m not like that.”

“And yet here you are?” Hades reasoned. His hands gripping your hips tighter as he whispered filthy words to you. “Getting mounted in a hallway with your skirts pulled up like a common whore.”

“I-I’m not!” Another moan escaped you as a hand slipped up to touch your breast. Gods if only you could stop moaning to sound credible. “I..I’m doing this…for you.”

“For me? Perhaps. But lets not pretend you’re not enjoying this my love.”

A sharp, and loud, noise came out before you could stop it as Hades’s hand on your breast slipped up towards your neck and pulled you forward. Hands off the wall and almost upright on his cock as he held you in place. “You’re so wet. I bet I could drown if I ate your pussy right now. Don’t tell me you’re not excited about this too. The thrill of getting caught. The thrill of being seen.”

“Y-Yes!” You admit this time when he said it again. Bouncing as best you could on his cock in an effort to cum. “I love it! I love you! I’m so hot Hades, please, please, make me cum!”

His other hand on your hip slipped past your skirts to play with your clit, and it only took a matter of seconds before you came. Mouth open in a breathless scream. Your arms scratching and flailing for purchase against this tide wave of pleasure.

The god let out a low grunt in your ear as he came as well. His cock twitching inside of you. Hades then dislodge the two of you from your position, careful to make sure you could still stand. “Shall we retire to bed my love?” He asked, once you both had sufficiently straightened.

“Yes.” You agreed breathlessly.

The two of you walked out of the passageway and into the hallway. No one, as far as you knew, wiser of what had just occurred.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok scenario #record of ragnarok imagine #ror scenario #ror imagine #hades #record of ragnarok hades #hades x reader #ror hades #female reader #record of ragnarok smut #ror smut

966 notes · View notes

cryptixani · 4 months

Text

this is pure pwp and sacrilege. fem reader. minors dni.

father geto was a pious man.

he donned his cassock with a devoted pride, spent his days delivering masses that were so holy and wonderful that they filled the church every sunday. he prayed devoutfully, opened the confessional booth on a weekly basis, kept the church tidy and decorated dedicated his time to helping churchgoers, volunteered to help at charity events and visited the sick and elderly.

he was everything that a perfect priest should be, the definition of a gentle giant. people all over your fairly small and religious town had naught but praise for him, filled with wonder and swooning at his very name. his exemplary behaviour didn't help much with how handsome he was - the youngest priest the town had seen in a while, only around 27. with long dark hair that he always kept at least half up in a top-knot, some loose strands falling over his face. warm, smooth, unblemished skin. deep, intelligent violet eyes. a sturdy, tall build that emanated safety and protection, a guardian figure.

father geto wasn't just respected, he was loved. loved for his good looks, yes, but also his kindness, his generosity, his dedication to the people, his goodness, like an early saint.

...

...so then why was he so sinfully cruel when he ate out your cunt right on top of the altar table?

his big hands curled tight around the soft meat of your thighs, holding your legs apart. his collar was undone, leaving a slither of neck visible. the tall stone walls of the parish echoed the sounds of wet slurping and poorly muffled moans.

"f-fath- hnng, fathe- hahh-..."

you could barely even coordinate his name. geto peered up at you over your front, fox-like eyes gleaming with amusement. he didn't reply, his tongue already busy with your soft pussy. he alternated between clit and opening, sucking and licking, and the more juices he lapped up the more seemed to leak out of you.

the pristine white altar table cover was surely stained by now, though neither of you seemed to care. you were too deep into having your pussy ate, and geto was too focused on overstimulating you.

he was doing a good job, of course. if it weren't for his hands gripping you tight, your hips would be stuttering and squirming like possessed.

you came again with a cry, hardly quietened by your hand over your mouth, and geto couldn't help but think about how much you reminded him of a sacrificial lamb right now. restrained, quivering, helpless, laid out on an altar in front of your god.

except he, unlike the biblical god, didn't know much of mercy.

"that's it," his caramel voice was soft and low, a hint of rasp giving away his arousal, "good fuckin girl. so-" a pause to give your twitching clit another quick suck, "-so good f'me."

you didn't have much time to come down, maybe a minute or so where geto decided to kiss and lap at the warm skin of your inner thighs instead, before you knew he'd be back to the source for more. it was his forbidden fruit. or was it your forbidden fruit, and he was the snake tempting you? you weren't sure. your mind was too hazy for metaphors right now.

"had enough, lamb?" father geto cooed, and you suppressed a shudder just at the look that he gave you - a dark, smug smile and narrowed eyes. his tone was almost mocking. "poor thing."

your soft pants began to come down, and you could just about form a coherent sentence now.

"f-father-" you mewled, the almost pitiful sound echoing off the church walls, "wan' more."

geto's smile broadened. he tilted his head, and you could swear his energy shifted a bit.

"oh, more?" he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your mound. "don't worry, lamb. this is my favourite form of prayer. i won't be done anytime soon."

he delved back in. greed was a damning sin.

#geto x reader #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #getou suguru x you #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto smut #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto smut #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru smut

94 notes · View notes

maybanksbaby · 15 days

Text

pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

warning: english's not my first lenguage!; also, reader cheating, but that's all i think

a/n: this is the first writting here!! so please don't judge on it so hard hehe

⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

The tension in the air felt thicker than usual, even in the suffocating luxury of the Midsummer party. You could feel JJ’s eyes on you from across the lawn, and every time you caught his gaze, it sent a thrill through your body that you desperately tried to ignore. The white tight shirt he was wearing making him look the Kook-ish he'll never be. And, God, you couldn't help but feel the familiar heat on your stomach at the sigh.

He wasn't supossed to be here. He wasn't supossed to look that sinfully good, enough too tempt you this bad.

Kooks and Pogues shouldn't mix, that's what everyone said and knew for a fact. And tried, oh you tried, but it was so hard. Because even though you had a boyfriend on your own, being not other then 'The Kook Prince', your mind always ran back with the need of being in JJ's arms, against his so delicious lips. Feeling the natural salty scent of his skin alone made your body shiver.

Yeah, you were fucked. Literally.

Rafe had wandered off to find drinks, leaving you alone for the moment, standing next to a drinks table with other Kooks. Some assholes you only knew by name and that you couldn't care any less. Your mind wasn’t on them. It was on JJ.

You knew this was dangerous—everything about being around JJ lately felt like walking a tightrope. It wasn’t just because you were Rafe’s girlfriend; it was because of everything you and JJ had done. The things no one else knew about. The things you had promised yourself would never happen again.

But then you saw him, cutting through the crowd like he didn’t care that he was out of place, and your heart skipped a beat. Before you could think twice, you slipped away from the table, heading toward a more secluded part of the lawn, behind one of the large, decorative columns near the back.

And JJ followed.

You were barely hidden from view when he caught up to you, stepping close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His familiar scent filled your senses—salty sea air, a hint of smoke, and the underlying musk that made you weak every time.

"What are you doing here?" it's the first thing you say once you have him in front of you. In a shorter distance you now could take notice of the recent bruises starting to cicatrize on his face. Your hand thinks on it's own, tracing the purple swollen skin of his cheek, hearing the blonde softly hiss under his breathe.

He doesn't say anything though, and you choose not to ask of where it went from either. You knew how he was, if he wanted to tell you, he would. In the meantime, worrying in silence was all you could do. Or chose to.

"Occupational hazards," And you're not sure of what he's talking about until he shows you a little piece of paper previously hidden behind his sleeveless coat. Your eyebrows furrow, catching the sigh of a boyish handwritting before he pushes it back under his clothes. "It's better if you don't, to be honest".

You nodded your head slowly; you didn't care too much either.

“Thought you could sneak away from me?” JJ teased, changing the topic completly. His voice low and full of that dangerous, cocky confidence that always seemed to get under your skin.

You shot him a glare, though you couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened at his proximity. “I told you, you need to stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction. It sounded more like a plea than a demand. “Rafe is going to find us.”

JJ’s smirk grew, and he stepped closer, pressing you against the cool stone of the column. His body blocked you from view, and his breath was hot on your skin as he leaned in. “What’s the matter, Y/n?” he murmured, his hand brushing your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. “Scared someone’s gonna find out what you really want? That he finds out? That you want a Pogue more than a useless Kook”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his words and the heat of his touch. “This is reckless, JJ,” you whispered, though your hands had already betrayed you, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “You need to stop.”

“I will,” JJ said softly, his fingers trailing lightly up your side, sending electric shocks through you. “As soon as you stop wanting me to.”

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, the moonlight catching his messy blond hair, his blue eyes dark with something feral. You hated how easily he got to you, how he could unravel all your defenses with just a look. It wasn’t fair. You had Rafe. You were supposed to have Rafe. But JJ... JJ had always been the one who got under your skin, the one who knew just how to push your buttons.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers curled tighter into his shirt, pulling him closer. “We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, though your body betrayed you as you arched toward him.

JJ's grin softened, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “But you want to, i can feel it. You need it... And i promise you, that i feel the same,” he murmured, his voice low and thick, as his fingers traced a line up your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

The space between you two evaporated, and suddenly, you couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. His lips were a hair’s breadth from yours, his hand gripping your hip tightly, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you leaned in, closing the gap between you two. The kiss was desperate, intense, and fueled by all the things you couldn’t say. It was the kind of kiss that made you forget about everything else—the party, the fact that Rafe was nearby, the consequences that would come crashing down if anyone saw you.

But right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was JJ—his hands on your waist, his lips against yours, the way he made you feel alive in a way that terrified you.

“Y/n…”

The sound of your name being called from across the lawn sent a jolt of panic through you. You pushed JJ away, your heart hammering as you wiped your lips, trying to compose yourself.

“Shit,” JJ muttered, stepping back and running a hand through his hair as the familiar voice of Rafe cut through the air. You could hear him coming closer, calling your name again, oblivious to the fact that you had been moments away from making the worst mistake of your life.

“For God sake. Y/n!”

Rafe’s voice was closer now, and you could feel the weight of JJ’s gaze on you as he waited for you to make your move.

You forced yourself to breathe, quickly smoothing down your dress and stepping away from JJ. “Go,” you whispered urgently, glancing around to make sure Rafe couldn’t see him yet. “Now.”

JJ’s eyes flicked to where Rafe’s voice was coming from, and for a second, you thought he was going to say something—push his luck like he always did. But then he gave you a crooked grin, backing away into the shadows.

“See you around, princess.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Rafe appeared moments later, looking annoyed as he came up to you. His eyes scanned the area, but there was no sign of JJ. “Where the hell did you go?” he asked, his tone sharp.

You forced a smile, your heart still racing in your chest. “Just needed some air,” you lied, slipping your hand into his as casually as you could. “It’s crowded in there.”

Rafe frowned but didn’t press further, pulling you close and humming shortly. “C’mon, let’s get back before people start wondering where we went.”

You nodded, letting him lead you back to the party, your mind spinning with thoughts of JJ—the feel of his hands, his lips, the way you had almost lost control. But as Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, the reality of the situation came crashing back down on you.

You had to stop. You couldn’t keep doing this. Not with JJ. Not with Rafe so close.

But as you glanced back toward the shadows where JJ had disappeared, part of you already knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj outer banks #obx jj #jj obx #outer banks jj #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank gif #obx jj maybank #jj maybank picture #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x y/n

49 notes · View notes

cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Heyy bestie,

Just want to say your writting is amazing. I saw you have your oneshots opens; may I pls request giving aemond a blowie? Idk but seeing such a powerful man reduces to moans is just really hot to me. Sorry if you don't write nsfw !!! Feel free to ignore this if it goes against any of your rules :)))

Um yes, I am totally down for that haha and Aemond is too ;)

And what better way to celebrate 1,000 followers than by giving Aemond a blowjob?

Aemond x f!reader | shameless smut

Aemond’s eye blazed violet fire, his lustful gaze locked on your lips as you flicked your tongue out to wet them. As you so often noticed yourself doing, you had found the prince striding down the stone corridor after his daily sparring session. You had taken his hand and pulled him through the nearest door, which proved entry to no more than a small space used to store cleaning supplies.

He had allowed you to back him against a wall, trying to make as little noise as possible, your hands running along his taut body. You kissed him hard, your lips moving against his, Aemond humming softly as he returned your heated embrace. You undid the golden clasps of his leather tunic, baring the skin of his chest for your fingers to explore. In his turn, Aemond reached down to grip your backside, urging you against his hardening length.

“Y/N, this is hardly the place I wish to make love to you in.” Aemond looked around at the cramped quarters, eyeing the nearby shelving with distaste.

You glanced down, mischief in your smile, making a point of examining the evidence of Aemond’s arousal before looking back to him, eyebrow raised. “We can’t have you walking around the Red Keep like this, my prince.”

His hips bucked involuntarily into your hand as you reached forward to cup him lightly through his trousers. “I-ah-can walk close behind you as we make great haste to my chambers.”

“I have a better idea…” You gently ran the back of your fingers down his cheek before slowly lowering yourself to a kneeling position, your hands coming to grip his hips.

“Y/N…” Aemond’s voice was uncertain, though he carded his fingers through your hair, before gripping lightly.

You pulled at the trousers he wore, sliding them down until you freed his hard member, running one of your hands along the hot length of him. Aemond’s grasp on your braided hair tightened as he sucked in a sharp breath, a moan caught in his throat. You relished looking at him in this moment, drinking in each change in expression as you stroked him. Aemond’s mouth had fallen slightly open as he leaned his silver head back against the wall, his hooded eye never leaving your face. Unblinking, you leaned forward, beginning to lick and kiss at the base of his cock, coating it with your saliva.

Only when Aemond rewarded you with his first soft moan, did you take the head of his member into your warm mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His hips shook as he controlled the urge to rut into your throat. Aemond ran his free hand through his own hair, arching his back against the wall as you took him deeper into your mouth.

The salty taste of him spread over your tongue as you continued licking and sucking, focusing on taking as much of his length as you could, while your hand stroked the rest of him. Your head bobbed, lewd wet sounds filling the small space the two of you occupied, accompanied by Aemond’s low grunts and gasps of pleasure.

He took control with his fist in your hair, bringing your face closer to him, letting instinct take over as he thrust into your eager mouth. “Gods, you are sinfully divine. Look at me.” Aemond’s pupil was dilated, he bit his bottom lip after each breathy sound of rapture that escaped him.

You moaned, so aroused by the look on his face and the noises he made. The vibration of your voice caused Aemond to swear again, louder this time, pushing so far into your throat you gagged around him. He seemed to like that, repeating the movement, causing you to choke on his cock. You held your breath for as long as you could, eyes watering as Aemond pressed himself wholly into your mouth, and you did your best to continue flicking your tongue against his throbbing manhood.

“I’m close.” It was a whisper amidst the incoherent lustful sounds he was making. “Y/N, take all of me.”

He gave you free reign of your movements once more, sliding his grip to the back of your neck instead as, with vigor, you continued sucking his twitching cock, swirling your tongue around the slick head. Aemond’s legs tensed, he hissed a warning before driving himself deep into your salivating mouth once more, hot cum spilling down your throat as you eagerly swallowed his climax. Your fingers dug into the flesh at his hips, encouraging him to press further against you. “Y/N.” Your name on Aemond’s lips sounded like a prayer. “Y/N, gods you are wicked.” You ran your tongue along his softened cock, cleaning him as best you could, before standing once more, your knees aching.

Aemond took your face in his hands, looking at you with wonder before bringing his lips to yours, tasting his own release. You eagerly entwined your tongue with his, eliciting another soft sound from your lover, echoing it with a whimper of your own. Aemond pulled away slightly to place a kiss to your forehead. “Remind me to have you pull us into dusty closets more often.” He pressed another warm kiss to your aching lips, hand tracing a path down the curves of your bodice.

Aemond reached down, gathering your skirts, hitching them up until you were exposed to him. His fingers found what they sought, causing you to jump at the sudden friction. He grinned at you. “You’re so wet for me.” He teased your slippery folds, rubbing a circle against your swollen clit. “Soaked through.” Aemond released you, drawing a whine from your throat. He brought his slick fingers to his mouth, tasting your arousal with a flick of his tongue. “All of a sudden, I feel quite parched.” He touched the same finger to your lips, his eye widening slightly as you sucked the digit into your mouth obediently. “You’re so good for me, Y/N.” Aemond kissed you once again before taking your hand in his. “Let’s continue this in my room, shall we?” He checked that the hallway outside was clear before leading you eagerly into the much cooler air.

#aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond imagine #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x female reader #pro aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #prince aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n

1K notes · View notes

green-eyedfirework · 6 months

Text

“Anyone ever tell you that dragons are possessive, little thief?” Slade asks conversationally, as though he hasn’t got the human pinned under one clawed hand, towering above him with wings flared. His cave is alight with merrily dancing flames and even with one eye, Slade’s eyesight is good enough to see the way they flicker in the thief’s wide blue eyes.

“I—I wasn’t—I’m not,” the little thief stutters, breaking off with a gasp as Slade presses him flat against the stone. “I’m sorry!” comes out higher-pitched, “I—I apologize, I didn't mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to steal from a dragon?” Slade finishes helpfully. Watching the impertinent little shit sneak through his cave had been almost entertaining enough to excuse being woken from a nap. Especially his squeak when he saw Slade staring straight at him.

The little thief tried to run before Slade’s tail cut him off from the entrance and Slade’s claws trapped him in a cage.

“What were you looking for, anyway?”

“...Dragon scales,” the quiet voice admits hesitantly.

Bold little thief. Dragon scales are very valuable. Slade’s seen them used in jewelry and in metal-working and for magic. It also explains why the little thief ignored the piles of gold and jewels and finery to creep towards the dry, cracking patch of scales on Slade’s back foot.

“And you thought you could waltz right in here and take them, little thief?”

“I’m not—” the human starts before he cuts himself off. “I’m sorry. I—I really need those scales. Please.”

Slade hums consideringly. This is truly an interesting diversion—and a pretty prize.

Usually Slade’s prey doesn’t wander right into his den, but he’s not complaining.

“What’s your name, little thief?” Slade asks. Desperation is a good look on him. His dark hair is ruffled, his skin gleams in the firelight, and those blue eyes shine like sapphires.

The thief swallows before replying and Slade watches his throat bob. “Dick,” he says, “Dick Grayson.”

“And what would you do in return for my scales?” Slade asks. Dick’s expression flits to relief as he inhales sharply. Slade doesn’t let himself grin, not yet. Lull the little thief into thinking he’ll get what he wants, let him taste the fruits of his greed, and he won’t let go.

“You’ll give them to me?” the thief’s voice cracks with hope.

“I’m sure we can work out a deal,” Slade lets himself show each and every one of his fangs. The little thief shivers. “Depends on how badly you want those scales.”

“What’s the deal?” Dick asks bravely.

Slade lowers his head until he’s looking at the little thief from a distance close enough to devour him. “I’ve been looking for a bedwarmer,” Slade says, voice low and deep, “Satisfy me, little thief, and I’ll give you your scales.”

Dick’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. He stops breathing, literally, looking up at Slade like he’s expecting Slade to take him like this, and Slade allows himself the chuckle as he shifts forms. When the transformation ends, Slade’s straddling the little thief, human-sized hands keeping him pinned to the ground.

Dick takes a shaky, trembling breath. His heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s. His expression is close to relief, though still too desperate to qualify, and Slade grins. This form may be smaller but it is by no means small.

“Well?” Slade asks. It’s been a long time since he’s had some stress relief.

“Alright,” the human’s voice is hoarse, “I agree to the deal.”

“Fantastic,” Slade purrs, leaning over Dick, “Let’s get started.”

~#~

Dick has to fight to not back himself all the way until he tumbles out of the nest he’s been led to. It’s lined with soft furs and pillows, sinfully decadent, and Dick has never felt more terrified as he edges away from the dragon stalking in.

Slade, he introduced himself, after Dick was able to calm down from the near panic attack of a dragon wanting to fuck him, and even in human form the dragon is nearly twice the size of him. Silver hair, a dark eyepatch, a dark orange-and-black scaled suit that ripples above his skin.

Dick’s gaze wanders to his crotch, and he swallows thickly. The bulge is…large.

“Here, little thief.” The dragon tosses something at him and Dick nearly fumbles the catch. “Prepare yourself.”

It’s a bottle of oil. Dick stares at it, heart thundering in his ears. He can’t believe this is happening. But he needs those scales, and this is the only way.

“Or do you want me to do it for you?” Dick snaps his gaze up and Slade’s grin is wicked as he flexes a claw-tipped hand. Dick can’t entirely suppress the shudder as he sits up hastily and gets to removing his clothes. He doesn’t want those claws anywhere near him, human-sized or not.

He can still feel the crushing weight on his chest, the surging terror when he realized he was caught, he failed, the dragon had him and wasn’t going to let him go—

“A better prize than I imagined,” the dragon says, low and heated and Dick looks up from the pile of his clothes to see Slade eyeing his naked body like it’s something to be devoured. He shivers, and Slade’s gaze grows more intense.

#my snippets #sladick #dragon au #dubcon #never a good idea to steal from a dragon

59 notes · View notes

midnightlitterateur · 7 months

Text

Writhe

Pairing - Gale/ Tav Gale/reader

Warnings - Smut, soft consensual non consent, Illithid sex pollen.

Summary - When ceremorphosis rears its tentacled head Gale comes to your rescue.

You had no idea how this had happened but it had started with heat. Unbearable sticky heat that caused the skin to prickle and itch. Your head had spun and you had thought the worst. That the end had come. You stripped your sweat drenched clothes from your aching body as you stumbled your way into the cool shadows of the ruins and pressed your naked burning skin against the mossy stone, sighing with relief as the cold leached into your bare flesh.

“Tav?” Gale stood in silhouette against the entrance. He leaned against the stone panting heavily. Seemingly in the same state as you. Was this it? Was this the end for all of us?

“Gale, you should leave…I don’t feel right,” you tried to warn him but he wasn’t listening, “I’m not…I’m not dressed.” You felt so dizzy, so disoriented. Only the cold of the stones offered relief from the hellish sensations that drove you to distraction.

You heard him inhale deeply, letting out a shuddering breath as he stepped further into the ruin. He seemed to perk up a little, standing tall as he approached. “What is that smell?” He walked cautiously, sniffing the air like an animal. “Is it…you?” He took another deep pull of night air and moaned under his breath.

The Illithid tadpole in your brain began to writhe sensuously in response to Gale's presence. It seemed to be aroused by his nearness and judging by the throbbing of your sex, so were you and it only got worse the closer he came.

His hands came to a rest on your hips and you quietly gasped in surprise, “Gale? What are you doing?” your words were slurred as they left your mouth, your vision disturbed. You felt him begin to rub his stubbly cheek against the sweat slicked skin of your back like a cat. All the while he was groaning sinfully. Erotically. You shivered and tilted back your head, exposing your strained throat as your lips reached in vain for his.

“I don’t know…but I can’t stop myself,” he whispered intimately, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he gasped open mouthed against it, his teeth grazing your flesh. “I need to…I'm so sorry about this…but you smell so good.” Gale nuzzled your skin, inhaling your scent like a drug as he made his way down your back. Kissing and licking, tasting you. Letting the euphoria of your perfume completely intoxicate his senses.

His fingertips lit a fire in their wake as he caressed your sides lightly. Making you tremble and gasp in blissful anticipation. “It's alright…it’s alright,” you soothed in a hushed voice, I know.” Your head lolled and swayed as you revelled in his touch. You could feel his cock rubbing against the back of your thighs. It dripped with arousal from your smell alone and it left sticky trails of desperate need upon your clammy skin. “It’s our tadpoles…isn't it?”

“Given… the way mine is reacting…I think you may be…right,” He managed to pant out his words but was becoming increasingly incoherent. His hand slipped down over your belly to your most sensitive places. It found you hot and ready. So ready, it was dripping in tiny rivulets down your legs.

Then, you felt it. His insistent rigid cock pressing fervently at your entrance. “Gale…yes…” his name was honey on your tongue as he slid inside you and began to thrust. Punctuating every slap with a bone deep groan. The most tender and erotic touching quickly turned into debauched copulation. Loud moans and wet slaps filled the still night air. As you thoughtlessly fucked with only one goal. To come. Hard and fast.

Gale's hands covered yours, fingers intertwined as he pressed you against the wall. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, loudly inhaling your smell between savage bites and soft kisses. His hips slapping against your ass hard and fast. The both of you moaning and sobbing with loud careless abandon. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung open as the wizard melted your mind and destroyed your body.

Your tadpole emanated euphoria. Gale's little ‘friend’ felt the same way, the psychic link they shared was being passed on to their human vehicles. Enhancing every sensation, magnifying it and seemingly transmitting it between them as the little worms roiled and writhed inside their hosts respective heads.

His hands slid down your outstretched arms, one stopping to grip your ribs, the other snaking around your waist to hold you impossibly close as he slammed into your body. He growled animalistically, his fingers digging painfully into your skin as he ploughed you possessively. The feel of his cock sliding against your inner walls, hitting your sweet spot over and over was maddeningly wonderful. Your teeth were bared in an unhinged grin, your eyes rolled back beneath fluttering eyelids.

Your belly fizzed and your muscles tightened as your inevitable release approached. The tadpole began to throb inside your skull. The bodily excitement built to a terrifying crescendo, forcing out a scream, long and loud as you came hard. Contracting around Gales thrusting cock. The incredible sensation forcing him to follow you over the edge into a long drawn out orgasm that rolled on and on with yours. The relief was instant for the both of you. The painful prickly feeling stopped and you didn’t quite feel like you wanted to die anymore. You slumped against the wall in a satisfied daze, Gale's body covering yours as the both of you tried to recover from your exquisite ordeal.

“Oh Gods,” you breathed, with a little chuckle, “if that’s how we stave off ceremorphosis, then I’m all for it.” You tried to lighten the mood with a little humour as was your wont in difficult situations but as it turned out you needn’t have worried. It seemed that you and your new companion were quite similar in that regard.

The exhausted wizard was gasping for breath, his damp forehead resting against your shoulder, “I think you’ve broken me,” he groaned with a tone of amusement “but I wholeheartedly concur.”

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #my writing #smut #bg3

59 notes · View notes

jackwolfes · 1 year

Text

Jesthias [Referenced Helnik/unrequited Kazper] // Six of Crows // 2241 words // M rated @kinktober2023 Day 3: Hate Sex Bonus warnings: light daddy kink (mostly mocking)

[all kinktober fills]

The forearm pressing against his collarbone smarts, and Jesper knows it’ll probably bruise.

He breathes in and laughs about it, but it hurts, too — and he likes it. He really fucking likes it. When he grins it’s slow and filthy, but the stern glare Matthias sends him in response stays still like solid stone. The room around them is dark, lit only by the secretive glint of the lights outside. The windows up here aren’t thick enough to block out the noise, but Jesper can’t differentiate any of the roaring laughter of drunks on the street with his own rushing pulse, slamming repeatedly in the corners of his mind.

“Could’ve bought me dinner first,” he tells Matthias. Then he grins, wide enough that — hopefully — the light catches the glint of his teeth.

“Be quiet,” Matthias scolds.

Jesper thinks it’s almost funny to be scolded when he has his back up against the wall and the bulge of Matthias Helvar’s cock against his thigh. He wasn’t hard when Jesper first started needling him in the bar downstairs, but they aren’t downstairs anymore. They’re in the cramped little storeroom up here, allegedly finding something for Kaz, but neither of them are stupid enough to believe that.

So Jesper tips his chin up, back of his head hitting the wall as he feels the pinch of Matthias’ arm holding him up against it. “Whatever you want,” he whispers with a cocky smile, “daddy.”

The shudder Matthias gives him in response is full body, paired with a red flush spreading along his face, his neck, the peeking hint of chest that Jesper can see in his sinfully hot shirt. It’s buttoned high, but not high enough.

He grins, like the cheeky little bastard he is. There’s laughter following, and laughter that makes the tiny thrust of his hips up against Matthias’ thigh a lot dirtier. In response he gets the forearm against his collarbone pressing harder. Jesper wonders absently if he’s going to end up bruised. Oh, he certainly hopes so.

He wriggles a little, squirming and writhing and getting close to moaning – not because Matthias has done anything, just because he’s desperate.

“You dirty fucker,” Jesper drawls, voice slow. He very badly wants to take them back on track.

“Be quiet,” Matthias repeats again. Jesper laughs again, which leaves Matthias shoving harder again. “I said, be quiet.”

Jesper darts his eyes between icy blue eyes and a perpetual scowl, lips he wants to have kiss him hard into the wall at his back. “Make me,” he murmurs.

He knows the world sees him and thinks he’s a slut. It’s not hard to see. It’s not hard to guess, either, with his slow grins and the lazy tilt of his hips. He tips his chin up at anyone that smiles – because he’s a whore, because he's desperate, because he needs – but he doesn’t think he actually ever means anything by it. He wants a very particular person that isn’t Matthias Helvar, a person Jesper wants to pin him up against a wall and hurt him too, but he can’t have that — so he spreads his legs and welcomes Matthias in with greedy lips and wine-stained promises.

Only the Saints know what Jesper is thinking at any given time. What he knows now is that he kind of wants Matthias begging.

Matthias doesn’t beg; of course he doesn’t. He leans back, though, releasing Jesper just for a second before picking up his thin wrist in cold hands and pinning it hard to the wall beside his head. Jesper feels himself inhale sharply. Fuck.

Then he slams his lips against Jesper’s and starts to kiss him.

It’s a bit wild and full of teeth, tongue, spit and split lips — nearly, at least. Maybe Jesper is getting ahead of himself, maybe he’s hoping. All the same he bites down hard on Matthias’ bottom lip and hopes for retribution, arching his back and starting to rock his hips up into the ones pressing him to the wall. Jesper has to wonder how Matthias thinks the world sees him. Brutish, angry, bitter, cold. None of it’s right, although maybe he’s leaning into some of that now for Jesper’s sake. There’s a bitter taste at the back of his tongue at the thought. He just wants Matthias. He always wants just Matthias. A friend, although there’s animosity. A friend, all the same. He wants the man that’s clearly pining with a fierce passion for someone, too, leaving the two of them sides of the same coin. Mistaken for something they aren’t; desperate for scraps of affection; denied the people they really want.

Matthias doesn’t say who exactly it is that he’s pining after, although Jesper has his suspicions. He doesn’t pull them out, even on nights like this — which happen more and more each passing week, tensions growing between them till they snap like twigs and lead to one of them with their mouth full. It’s usually mouths, or hands, but never more. Jesper has his suspicions about why that is, too.

When Matthias pulls away — not letting go of Jesper’s wrist — they both gasp. Aware it makes him look desperate but not stopping it, Jesper tries to lean in for another kiss, but Matthias doesn’t grant it, even when Jesper grumbles. “I fucking hate you,” he whispers. Matthias’ iron glare doesn’t melt, doesn’t bend. “Come on, Helvar. Get me off or let me go.”

And he’s a fucking dick, in Jesper’s opinion, but he isn’t stupid; they’re both here for one thing. He squeezes his grip around Jesper’s wrist, fingernails digging in even though Jesper thinks he probably didn’t mean for them to. Then he takes his other hand — the one that came up to rest on Jesper’s hip, not shoving him back in the wall so much as it was just there to hold him, unfortunately — and uses it to fumble with the lace of Jesper’s trousers.

“Stop moving,” Matthias tells him. Jesper doesn’t listen.

“There’s lube in my front pocket,” he replies. “Don’t need a condom if you want to fuck me.”

Ice-cold eyes lift to look at Jesper, bitter as ever. “I won’t,” he says, voice firm and a little disappointing.

“Prude,” Jesper breathes. He kind of means it. He mostly doesn’t. “Want me to fuck you instead? Is that what it is? Is that your big dirty secret?”

He sees fire in Matthias’ eyes, dangerous depths — but every sort of fire is dangerous for a man that’s usually cold. “Ask Kaz for it if you want it so bad,” he replies.

It burns like liquid metal.

When Jesper was a teenager working with a gunsmith near his father’s farm there had been an incurable urge at the sight of molten iron, calling to him like a siren — do it, touch it, you want it — even though he knew how hot it was. He never touched it, not even by accident, but he saw the aftermath of metal burns. Years after the fact, when they were faded so smooth scars lined on dark skin of his mentor’s hands and arms, but smarting with the ache probably forever.

Matthias speaks the name of a man Jesper pretends he hasn’t fallen for and it burns just as bad; Jesper will feel it for days.

“Don’t,” he snaps, jerking away from Matthias’ touch. “Fucking don’t.”

He yanks on the grip holding his arm, hard enough to force Matthias to work at keeping him still. In his surprise at Jesper’s outburst his hands go slack, loose enough that he’s set free. On instinct Jesper shoves him, so hard that he stumbles, tripping over whatever the fuck this shitty storeroom is full of. Jesper glares at him. He can see regret in Matthias’ eyes but doesn’t bother feeling vindicated. He just feels angry. It’s hatred, except he isn’t strong enough to actually believe that it’s hatred, and just kind of feels sad about it. The one thing Jesper is sure that he does hate is the look of pity in Matthias’ eyes, so he steps into his space again, grabs the collar of his shirt, and yanks him back into a kiss.

They stumble on their way back to the wall, slamming Jesper up against it one more time. Almost all of Matthias’ weight ends up pressing into his, forcing him flat but still managing to have the space to shove a hand between them and pull Jesper’s cock out of his trousers. Jesper bites his own bottom lip, too stubborn to moan, and sinks his teeth in harder to hold it back. Bloody iron bursts on his tongue, and he’d laugh at the irony of the fact he did it to himself. It doesn’t really matter.

It hurts. He likes it. He starts to cry anyway.

Matthias works his cock faster, faster, and Jesper feels tears spring up to the corner of his eye — maybe because he’s hurting or maybe because he feels really fucking excellent. He cries because it’s good, he cries because he’s hollow, he cries because there’s something in the back of his head that won’t let him do anything else. It’s a need, and he’s never been one to control his emotions. They swallow him whole. Just once — just once — he’d like to get ahead of the curve and hurt them first. He’s tired of them hurting him. He just wants control. With Matthias, he doesn’t have control, but he never gets it. With Matthias, he gives it up – or, more accurately, forces Matthias to take it. It’s what they both need, and Jesper is more than willing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

With a fractured cry Jesper comes, hips stuttering and legs wobbling. His head drops and comes to rest on Matthias’ shoulder, which Jesper never usually does — but he can’t help himself. Matthias’ other hand has come up to rest on his hip again. As Jesper’s orgasm flickers away into fading sparks behind his eyelid he feels Matthias’ hand on him. It’s warm.

Then Jesper’s legs go out from underneath him.

If Matthias were any less startled Jesper likes to think he’d have caught him, but he doesn’t seem to have been expecting it. When Jesper’s knees wobble again he thinks for a moment it’s going to be temporary, but it isn’t. He crashes to the floor and, although Matthias’ hand does clench on his hip, it doesn’t keep him upright. With a groan, tinged in laughter, Jesper hits the ground. With his back against the wall it isn’t so bad, but it isn’t ideal. He kicks his legs out ahead of himself, dropping his head back with another thunk to hit the wall.

To his credit, Matthias doesn’t force him upright again. He extracts himself from the tangled mess of long limbs, then lowers himself to sit back down at Jesper’s side. Not once does he comment on the heavy rise and fall of Jesper’s chest. Jesper doesn’t even have it in him to say something snarky about the fact it was his fault in the first place.

“Give me a second,” he pants. Matthias tips his head, as noncommittal as he gets. The man doesn’t shrug, Jesper’s noticed.

They sit together in almost-silence, both of them breathing and saying nothing. The sounds from out the cheap window filter through, although Jesper still isn’t quite able to make them out yet. He lifts a hand and touches his fingertips to his lip, staring at it when it comes away bloody. Shit.

“It’s Nina.”

Jesper lifts his head. Matthias isn’t looking at him, just staring out at the cramped room around them. “What?”

“Nina Zenik. My big, dirty secret.” His voice is wry, and tastes like acid. Jesper blinks, looking at him with a blank sort of look as he tries to make sense of what Matthias means. He only barely remembers saying those words, but he does remember. They’d been mean. He’d meant for them to be, at least.

“I thought you were gay,” he says. Matthias finally turns his head, looking quizzically at him. Jesper shrugs. “I thought I was your secret side piece while you dealt with all of the emotional repression you have going on.”

To his surprise, he gets a laugh. “No,” he says easily. “I like women. Or — I like Nina.”

Jesper blinks, then narrows his eyes. “She’s wanted to fuck you for like, a year.”

Unsurprisingly, Matthias only scowls. “It isn’t that simple.”

“She wants to fuck you, you apparently aren’t too gay for it, and you want to fuck her back? What isn’t simple about it?”

Jesper has been pining after his best friend, sexuality unclear, for years now, but Matthias is calling this tricky? Incredulity sparks in his vision. Kaz only seems interested in money and revenge, except for the fact he leaves Jesper with just enough hope to keep wanting. But here’s Matthias, with a beautiful girl incredibly down to fuck that he just can’t get over himself enough to ask on a date. Matthias, who gives Jesper an even glare and says nothing further, which makes him scoff. He rubs a hand over his scalp, shaking his head.

“Alright,” he says. “You know where I am until you get up the balls to do something about it.”

“I have no intention of doing anything about it anytime soon, you know.”

With nothing else to do for it, Jesper only laughs. “Saints help my stamina, then.”

#there will be wesper at some point this month i swear #jesthias #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #six of crows #soc #soc fic #crooked kingdom #sab netflix #dgb does kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2023 #fun fact i wrote most of this reeeeally drunk

29 notes · View notes

villainousshakespeare · 2 years

Text

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 24

Loki/OFC Rated E: Trigger Warnings: Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved, drinking

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10 @justjoanne242 @chantsdemarins @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokiprompts @evieplease

It had taken a satisfyingly short time to convince Thor and their mother that he was not going to be delayed in returning to Midgard. Friga had wanted to summon Eir and attempt to repair the sieve that they had made his memory. Thor had babbled some nonsense about danger if he set foot in the mortal's fortress. Loki had ignored them both with ease. The threat, made with just the right amount of intensity, that he would use his own weakened powers to access hidden paths to Earth were enough to have them both agreeing to bring him there themselves by a less strenuous route.

Loki didn't understand why they didn't just have the Gatekeeper open the Bifrost to the compound where this mortal woman was at present, but Thor was rather insistent that a stealthier course was called for. This was such an aberration from his brother's normal tendency to barrel in hammer first that both Loki and Frigga were quick to acquiesce, although their mother looked a little uneasy with the method it left to them.

"You do still have the Tesseract I assume, brother?" Thor had asked.

Another wave of sensation had rocked Loki, and he had to steady himself physically to avoid falling once again.

The Tesseract. Yes, the name filled him with something that was not quite comfort, but yet still offered a sense of relief. It was as if an escape card had been slipped into his pocket. It made sense; from what he knew of the Tesseract, container of the Space Stone, it could carry someone of sufficient mental strength to command it anywhere they wanted to go. One of the primal forces of creation, nothing he knew of would be able to stop it from taking him to Earth or anywhere else.

He had it?

Loki closed his eyes and mentally reached into his pocket dimension, paying much more attention than would usually be required in order to retrieve an item tucked away. He felt the auras of his usual items: knives, quills, paper, armor, anything he might need in his roamings, and dismissed them all. There were a few things he had not remembered adding, such as a rose-colored parka, some sort of projector, and a pair of sorcerous handcuffs. He would have to explore more later to see what else he had acquired in his missing days. There! in the midst of all the objects was a gently glowing blue cube that emitted a powerful aura.

Loki had pulled it out into the night air and held it aloft. How had he come to have one of the building blocks of the universe in his possession? It was yet another mystery to be solved. Right then however, he had been too concerned with the first problem. Who was this woman, this mortal of all things, who filled him with such a sense of need that he was willing to put his health at risk in order to find her and assure himself of her safety?

"Oh Loki, the Tesseract?" Frigga sighed in a voice he had been hearing his entire life.

"Apparently," he shrugged, tossing it up and catching it just for the effect. He couldn't have them realize how off his game he truly was after all.

"Give it to me, you are in no condition to use it."

"Mother -"

"Do not try to dissemble with me! You can barely stand on your own accord, how do propose to control an artifact of such power? More like than not you would end up on some random moon if you tried on your own. If you want to go, and must go now, then you will let me provide the guidance. End of discussion."

When it came right down to it, he had not been feeling at his best, and if there was any person he trusted to turn over such a weapon to it was his mother. Reluctantly he had handed the cube to Frigga and seen her breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thor, you know where this place is where Loki's friend is being kept?" Frigga asked in a brisk tone.

"I believe so," Thor answered. "My guess is that friend Stark should have been able to keep her in his rooms, rather than seeing her put into the prison."

"His rooms?" Loki growled, not liking the sound of that one bit, even though he had no idea who the person they spoke of was.

"A very large suite, Brother," Thor hastened to assure him. "Several rooms. In any event, you need not fear. He is only a little fellow, and a mortal, though fierce in battle."

"I fear nothing," he had said automatically, still not liking the situation Thor presented.

"Alright," Frigga had cut through their discussion. "Each of you place a hand on my shoulder, like when you were children. Thor, I am going to enter your mind; visualize where this woman would be for me. As much detail as you can. Loki, no over-extending yourself, but gently reach for me. That's it. Now, brace yourselves my sons."

The teleportation had taken more out of him than Loki cared to admit. Frigga's firm arm locked with his had been all that kept him steady as the terrace around them disappeared and reconfigured itself into some sort of sitting room filled with human furniture in silvers and grey. He was grateful for her discrete support and shot her a quick look of thanks while Thor shook off the trip like a pet emerging from a lake.

Too late he had reached for the Tesseract, only to see Frigga turn her wrist and remove it to her own impenetrable storage with a smile that dared him to protest. Well, that too would be a battle for another time. He had to find this person. This doctor. His heart screamed that everything else was second no matter how much his intellect told him otherwise. It was extremely irritating.

"Where is she?" he had demanded of Thor, looking around and not seeing anyone.

"Calm down Brother," the note of ill-concealed amusement in Thor's voice rankled to no end and made him itch for his knives. "I told you the suite was large. She should be here somewhere, assuming Pierce didn't kill her."

And then a dagger had been in his hand, and a snarl escaped his lips. If anyone had laid so much as a hand on her, he would make them long for an easy death.

"Loki, control yourself," Frigga had snapped at him. "And Thor, show some respect for your brother's feelings. I am sure that this Doctor Thorpe is safe and near. Ah, I think I hear voices coming from that direction. Thor, perhaps you should lead, since you are friends with the Mortal who's home we have invaded."

Loki had showed his opinion of that plan by roughly pushing past his brother and wrenching open the door out of the room. He could hear the voices then, though not what they were saying. One was low and masculine, the other had a bell like quality that went right to his heart. It was her. He would bet what remained of his soul on it. He had to see her. Once he did, everything would be right again.

Charging down the corridor, he had come at last to another room with couches, chairs, and a low table, artwork decorating the walls. He hadn't seen any of it. There, seated on one of the couches, had been Her.

He had known the minute his eyes clapped upon her. A relatively small woman, she was dressed in a grey sweatshirt several sizes too big for her that was rumpled and unflattering. Her hair, a mess of snarled curls, was tied up on the top of her head somewhat crookedly, several large chunks falling down at random. Deep, dark smudges shadowed her eyes, speaking of sleepless nights and tearful days.

Loki had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

He had stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of her eyes. They were red and watery, but that could not disguise the sharp intelligence and, even more breathtaking, the kindness that shone forth from them. Those eyes, he had thought in a brilliantly clear moment, could take all the sorrows in all the world and make them bearable. Compassion, acceptance, and humor glinted in their bottomless depth. He wanted it, all of it, for himself.

Which made the fact that at that very moment they were shining on someone else, someone who was clasping her hand and smiling back at her, absolutely unacceptable.

An intense haze of red colored all before him. Loki did not know who she was, but he knew with a certainty beyond anything else that it was his eyes she should be staring into, his hand that belonged in hers. He would kill this worm of a Mortal for daring to touch the match to his soul. Menacingly, his grip on his knife tightened.

"If you want to keep that hand," he spoke quietly from the doorway, "I suggest you remove it from my Lady's. Now."

***

That voice, low and filled with menace, was the most wonderful sound she had ever heard.

Caroline's eyes flew from Matt's face over to the entrance. He was there. Standing in the doorway to the sitting room was the only man she would ever love. For the first time in over a week, Caroline's heart seemed to beat once more.

"Loki," she said, his name and nothing more, rising to her feet.

"In all my glory," he smiled, eyes moving over her.

Caroline felt a momentary pang of embarrassment for how she must look. Since the horrible incident she had taken the bare minimum of interest in her personal appearance, only doing enough so that her friends would stop hounding her about it. As her eyes took in Loki, however, she forgot her own state as his registered in her mind.

Loki had always been thin, although Caroline knew firsthand how much lovely muscle was hiding beneath his clothing. Now though, his cheeks were hollower and the soft green tunic he wore seemed to drape loosely on his frame. His beautiful pale skin contained even less color than before if that were possible, and his sharp eyes betrayed the slightest hint of exhaustion.

She had spent quite a bit of quality time with her alien prince; Caroline knew how carefully he guarded his appearance. If he was showing visible signs of fatigue, then he must have been in a bad way indeed. He was alive yes, but he had been hurt, grievously, and it was all her fault.

"Loki, I am so sorry," she stuttered, taking a step but not daring to approach closer. "I swear, I never meant to hurt you."

An odd look flickered across his face, and she realized that his eyes, which had become open and shining when he looked at her during their time together, were guarded once more. Of course. How could she expect anything else? She had shot him, almost killing him. Their relationship could not be the same.

"Doctor Caroline! You are here!" Thor bounded up to stand next to his brother. "You see Loki, I told you she would not be killed or incarcerated."

"I am relieved to see that you were right for once," Loki's eyes had still not left her face.

"Pierce tried, by Tony insisted on keeping me here," she said, wishing he would open his arms for her but not wanting to presume. "I guess for once the rich having undue influence worked in my favor."

"Ah, well I suppose I owe you thanks then," Loki's voice did not sound particularly friendly.

To her surprise, she found that his eyes turned away from her to gaze improbably to Matt with an open hostility.

"No, Brother, that is not friend Stark," Thor whispered loudly in Loki's ear. "I know it is difficult, as most Midgardian males look the same, particularly the smaller ones. I myself have made similar mistakes in the past."

"Matt Murdock, attorney," Matt said, extending his hand.

Thor shook Matt's hand with enthusiasm, but Loki only looked at it. Matt waited a moment, and then pulled it back with a shrug.

"I take it you are the Asgardians," he said.

"Oh, yes. Matt, this is Loki and Thor. Princes of Asgard," she didn't know what Loki's feelings were for his family at the moment, but he and Thor seemed to be forming a united front.

"Although they are not acting like it at the moment," a female voice dripping with disapproval added.

Caroline tore her eyes away from Loki with an effort to see a tall woman come up to stand beside him. To call her beautiful would be an understatement. Tall and regal with intricately styled red-gold hair, the woman personified grace. Caroline at once felt even more bedraggled in comparison.

"Forgive us, Mother," Thor lowered his head, but Loki kept his green eyes flickering between Caroline and Matt.

Mother. This was Frigga, Loki's mother and Goddess in her own right. Of all the times to be introduced to her, Caroline could not think of a worse one. Not only did she look like a street urchin, but she had committed an act of violence on the other woman's son.

"Your Majesty," she said, dipping her head since there was no way she was going to try a curtsey.

"Ah, so you are Doctor Thorpe," Frigga said, giving Caroline a quick once over that she was sure saw every inch of her.

"I am."

"My son has been anxious to see you. I am pleased to make the acquaintance of one so dear to him, although I could wish the circumstances were different."

"I'm honored."

"You are honored, she is pleased," Loki drawled, looking around the room. "Now that we are done with that, all of the rest of you to go away."

"Loki!" Frigga chastised.

"Very well," Loki said with a melodramatic sigh. "I would very much like for everyone to kindly leave Caroline and I alone. Now. Better?"

"Barely," his mother allowed. "Very well. We will wait in the next room."

Frigga turned and departed with an encouragingly smiling Thor. Matt began to follow, but stopped at the last minute, putting one hand on Caroline's shoulder and looking disconcertingly straight at her.

"You'll be okay?" he asked her.

"Far more than you will be if you keep insisting on touching what you shouldn't," Loki said dangerously.

"I'll be fine," she lied, thinking she was like to combust on the spot.

"I'll be right next door," Matt ignored him. "My hearing is excellent, so just yell if you need me. Loki, it's been educational."

With an ironic twist of his expressive lips, Murdock followed the Asgardian contingent out. Caroline noticed the way Loki's glare tracked him, and she felt a horrible surge of excitement. Surely if he was that unhappy with Matt's attention to her he couldn't have completely written her off.

The door shut, and they were alone. Caroline stared at Loki in exquisite torture as he remained silent. She had hoped and wished for nothing more than to see him again, alive and well. No matter what happened, she would be forever grateful that he had survived the blast she had shot him with. Still, it was hell to be so close to him and not touch him, not assure for herself that he was real and there and whole.

Finally, when she thought she might explode, Loki walked the few short steps and stood looming over her. One of his long, elegant fingers traced the side of her face, and Caroline let out a trembling sigh at the contact. His eyes, hooded and revealing nothing, captured hers and seemed to bore deep inside her soul, looking for something. She would have happily given him anything in that moment, if he had only named. it.

"My love," he said at last.

Just those two words, but Caroline let out a sob nonetheless, throwing herself into him and tightly wrapping her arms around him. Loki smiled, lifting her chin and claiming her mouth for a long, desperately needed kiss that nourished her more than any meal could ever do. He did not hurry, letting his hands explore her body as his tongue did the same to her mouth. It was searching, like his gave had been, giving her the chance to relearn how it felt to be in his embrace. When he finally pulled away, it was to sink down onto the sofa, bringing her down next to him. She felt at home and safe at last after the nightmare of the past days.

"So, you are Caroline," he mused, looking at her. "I am relieved to know what good taste I have."

As she stared at him in shock, Loki burst into manic laughter.

#Loki fic #fan fiction #Loki/ofc #romance #memory loss #post Avengers Assemble #Loki gets therapy #love #angst #smut in previous chapters #Thor #Frigga #Matt Murdock #snarky Loki #Loki has issues #Tesseract #reunion #the course of true love

78 notes · View notes