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fan-goddess · 9 months

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A Mutual Feeling Of Hate

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong!reader

Summary: As Aemond Targaryen rounds up the male Strongs, he realises one man is missing, and in his hunt for him, he finds you…

Warnings: Explicit talk, p in v smut, breeding kink, murder, talk of SA, oral f receiving, praise in Valyrian, riding, sadism and masochism, jealously sex, exhibitionism, marking, let me know if I’ve missed anything

Taglist: @valeskafics, @arcielee, @blue-serendipity,

Authors note: I’m not as happy as I’d like to be, but still here we go hope you guys like it. It was my first time writing on Google docs 😅

Harrenhal had never truly been your home. Throughout the years you were forced to live there, in your eyes it had always been your husbands. Although according to him and, in the more recent years to come it would soon become the home of yours and his children too..

Your husband, Geralt Strong, had been merely a second son when the two of you first married. Yet after the tragedies that struck Lord Lyonel Strong and his eldest son and heir Harwin, it soon hit you that your husband was only an accident away from being appointed the supposed honour of representing his house as its Lord. However, you were not the only one who noticed this predicament, as soon after Larys was appointed with no wife or children of his own, your husband decreed it was time for you to fulfil your wifely duties, and provide him with heirs of his own.

He’d been drunk every time that he tried to force himself onto you, but apparently he was too weak-souled to do it while sober. The man would become so incapacitated, that he’d pass out from overindulgence before he could even properly get off his breeches. For the first time in your life, you were grateful to be married to such a weak minded man.

Although, to play your role in the supposedly ever so slowly closing in win of his succession, you would force yourself to finish taking off his breaches, and stroke him till he burst in your hand, to make it seem like he’d actually completed his part. When he eventually spilled, you would always feel disgusted, wanting nothing more than to wash it all off and clean your whole body of his filth, and yet you found a strange joy in it. Thinking that whenever you were forced to lick the salty taste off of your hands, you were practically eating his children, and his legacy from your very hands. In a strange way, you found honour as you played one of the gods…

Still, when your husband was not drunk, and managed to have his way with you, you still requested moon tea. A wet nurse that you surprisingly found yourself becoming close confidants with named Alys, would somehow always come to you whenever you need it, a small vial in her hand in preparation.

However, when the banners of war were officially brought out of hiding, and calls for soldiers and blood broke out amongst the land, your husband became much too preoccupied by the impending doom of Harrenhal to bother you. You can remember clearly in your mind the day Daemon and his men came for you all. It was something everyone present would remember. Ser Simon, the man who led House Strong while Larys was in kings Landing, was not a man in your eyes that day, as he surrendered easily during the assault of Daemon's attack. It was not difficult to spot Daemon Targaryen amongst the many of his men from your window, the colouring of his hair making him stand out when his helmet was shrugged off, and the wish that your husband could’ve been more like him stood out to you whenever you saw the man. You could not help but feel envious of the usurped queen whenever you saw him standing valiantly and without fear.

That however, was why It was strange, when the prince and all of his men left all of sudden in the night. All pondered over the reason, but then came the sound of a dragon's wings, and the distinctive noise of a dragon's roar, the sound of it echoed and vibrated through the air. It was not Daemon coming back, no. It was the colour green of their banners that told you who they were, and what this meant for you. It was time for you to shed yourself of that ‘Strong’ husband of yours.

Your husband in question has pushed past you to look on in horror as the men in green and gold marched closer. And while he was gawking down below at the sight, you yourself took hold of the intricately carved dagger that was gifted to you by your mother. There was no real need for you to be quiet, as Geralt's eyes remained solely on the now revealed Targaryen below, and when you stood behind Geralt silent to also get a glimpse of the sight, you were most definitely not disappointed.

It was not hard to decipher that it was Aemond Targaryen who stood there, and demanded that a sword be given to Simon Strong. The eyepatch that hung over his disfigured left eye made it easy to realise which Targaryen stood there. He uttered something to the trembling man, but sadly you were unable to hear what it was he spoke.

You were surprised though, when Simon Strong it seemed had finally grown a backbone, as he fought the prince in what was seemingly a trial by combat. However, it seemed he grew it too early, as the sound of clashing of swords was soon over, and instead the sound of a dragon's cry echoed soon after. It wasn’t until you heard the screams till you realised that the prince had fed the mangled corpse of the man to his dragon Vhagar. He made the man, who to you was undeserving of his own blood, into something as meaningless to his dragon as a common sheep. If you weren’t occupied with standing a few paces back from Geralt ready to strike him down, you most likely would’ve gone down to the prince and given him your utter devotion and loyalty, if he didnt make you into food for his dragon too that is.

The voice of Aemond Targaryen rings again, as you yourself twirl the dagger in your hand in preparation, and it booms loud enough for all to hear throughout the castle. “Bring me the rest of the men who possess the blood of House Strong!” You cannot help but feel excited at the tone the prince holds. Madness, and a type of pure unrelenting rage. It’s not hard to tell what the intention of his demand is, even the dumbest of men would be able figure out what he wants to do.

You almost miss your opportunity as you get swept up in your own excitement. Still, you make a noise similar to a yelp in an attempt to draw Geralt's attention from the spectacle below, and when he responds just how you had planned for him to act, with his body and neck turning swiftly to you in sudden alarm, you waste no time in plunging the dagger deep into the flesh of Geralt's neck. You can feel the warm specks of his blood as it splatters onto your face as you withdraw the blade, and as he staggers towards you while clutching the profusely bleeding wound in a poor attempt to stop it, you cannot help but find yourself smiling at the utterly pathetic sight. Thanks to the one-eyed prince and his hatred, there will be no more ‘Strong’ men left to stand in your way to freedom, and no so called ‘respected’ witnesses to your crime.

There’s a small series of grunts that manage to make their way from your husband's blood gargling throat. Although, soon his stumbles become too weak, and he collapses onto the hard stone floor. His movements are weak, as he seems to use all of his energy so he could look up and stare up at you. If you were honest with yourself, the sight before you feels like the greatest honour you could ever think of, to watch the life leaving Geralt's eyes. You feel like you are playing one of the Gods, because thanks to you, they are now forever immortalised with a permanent look of confusion and betrayal.

It hits you though, a thought of realisation that makes your very spine shiver in annoyance. The thought being, that there is no doubt about it, that the prince already has a list of names of those that he needs to kill in his rampage, in order to properly eradicate the house Strong once and for all. If he didn’t… Well then, the prince is more of an idiot than you took him for. Your husband was the man set to inherit everything if and when Larys Strong is to pass. So there is no doubt in your mind that he’ll be one that the prince will wish to make sure is dead at his feet.

There is a sudden knock at the door that drives you away from your thoughts, and you just know that it is the prince's men who have come to fulfil their orders. You take a moment to prepare yourself to play the role of the already mourning wife. The tears you feel drop from your eyes are fake, and yet as you open the door a fraction, the men who look at you see no difference. They’re young, only a couple name days older than you, and you thank the gods because of it, as with their inexperience they will be unable to decipher your tricks. In their eyes, you have already seen the taking of your husband, and by the blood on your face, he was taken not so long ago with some force.

They say no real words to you, other than a small grunt you presume is a type of apology, and leave you to your supposed mourning of your husband in solitude. Though as soon as you shut the door, you grab a chair and manoeuvre it to the window to watch the show below go on.

The sight of the one eyed prince successfully slaying an entire house brings a small smile to your face. He makes the man or boy say their name, and what makes them a Strong. The first to be slaughtered was Ser Simon, and soon after it was clear to all that not even the unclear bastards, with blood muddled and unknown origin, were even safe. None were spared from the Kinslayers blade.

From the balcony soon after the full-blooded men were slaughtered, you watched the beheading of an eleven name day old child. From your understanding of Harrenhal, the only reason that boy was here was because his mother was forced upon by the wrong man, and he refused to allow her the opportunity to rid herself of the child. It’s a sad sight, even you must admit, but there is truly nothing you can do other than let the show below go on.

It’s not long until the pile of corpses stops being enlarged, as the prince's men are forced to halt in their duty in bringing the men. The sounds of bloodshed are soon broken by the many sounds of high pitched women crying for their loves and their families. When you turn your head to look back at your own husband, still laying there in his own blood and filth, you can’t help but let out a scuff of disgust and disbelief, before turning back to continue to watch the prince.

You cannot help but ponder when it’ll happen. What will happen when the prince will eventually realise that no man has come forward to be slaughtered bearing the name of your husbands. Though it appears as soon as you begin to question it, the prince questions it too. “WHERE IS THE MAN THEY CALL GERALT STRONG?” He shouts. His voice somehow managed to echo over the sounds of the crying wives and daughters that resonated from their windows.

One guard steps forward, possibly one of the two who had visited your chambers earlier, but he’s too far to tell or not. He leans to whisper something into the prince's ear, and when the guard leans away, the prince looks somewhere in your direction. You can almost swear that you lock eyes with him, though he soon quickly looks away, before whispering some words to a knight, and beginning to walk towards the part of Harrenhal you reside in.

He disappears from your line of sight, and you begin to wonder if he’ll be searching all the rooms for Geralt. Though once again, It’s not long before you hear the sound of your chamber door being opened, with a loud creak of the handle. There is a sound of footsteps, although they seem to halt quickly. If you had to guess, they must have spotted the corpse. When you turn your head slightly, your eyes once more meet the single lilac eye of the princes. Although he does not make the contact last long as he breaks it to stare at the pitiful view of Ser Geralt Strong, still laying there in the pool of his own blood.

His face gives no indication of any particular emotion other than annoyance. Though you can’t help but notice an unfamiliar glint in his eyes as he looks back at you. “I thought I had ordered my men to bring me every living male strong.” It is not a question, as there is not a single inch of confusion in his tone. This was a statement.

“I know…” It's a strange feeling that resonates within you the longer the prince looks at you. One that makes your entire body strangely burn in a pleasurable sense. Not that you’d ever know what that would even feel like… “Your men followed their orders as they were told, my prince. As he was not alive before your men rounded them all to be apart of your genocide.”

You see that glint once more in his eye. It looks almost similar to admiration?

“I presume you are Geralt Strong's lady wife. Did you truly hate the man that much for you to risk your safety to kill him?” Again, this was not a real question. This was another statement and a demand directed for you. From the look in his eye, he already knew the answer.

“You are correct.” You say no more, and you don’t even need to, as the now dried blood that is still present on your face, slightly sticky to the touch you figured, and your eyes that have managed to remain bone dry with a matching expressionless face. They seem to say more than you ever could. Plus if anything, it seems the prince is the more emotional one in the room between the two of you. His own face holds in its possession a small smile, which looks much more akin to a prideful smirk, while your own is hellbent in an attempt to stay blank.

The two of you stay silent, him standing there not taking his eye of you, while you yourself continue to sit in your chair unmoving. It was strangely peaceful, until the prince began to walk towards you and took your throat in his hand, holding it firmly to not allow you head to move, but not too hard that you couldn’t breath.

“I suppose I must thank you…” He seems to muse, taking in your face as he presents it to himself. “Although-” He cuts himself off, peering down at your stomach with an almost pondering look. “How do I not know that you are currently hiding a Strong inside of your womb from me at this very moment?”

“Because I drink moon tea of course, my prince. Why would I wish to potentially burden my future children with the tainted blood that ran through my husband's veins, when there are hundreds of men throughout the seven kingdoms who easily possess blood ten times purer than his ever did?”

“And who are these men then my lady? Could you name a few so I may have an idea of your idea of pure blood?” He’s playing with you. Testing you even. And yet you must admit that it’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in Harrenhal the entire time you’ve been held practically as a captive there.

“Well there’s your brother of course, the king of the seven kingdoms…” The trail was unintentional, but you couldn’t help but let the next words die on your tongue just so you could admire the thundering glare on the prince's face at the mention of the king. You had heard about the disputes between the two, but you had no idea that this supposed brotherly hate ran so deep between them.

“Tell me who else,” He growls. The sound of it mixed with the feeling of his hand tightening around your neck sending the pure feeling of electricity straight to your already wet core.

“Why there’s many men, my prince! It wasn't like it was hard to possess purer blood than that of a Strong! There’s Dalton Greyjoy… Cregan Stark… Joffrey Arryn… I would even count your own Uncle Daemon to be possessing purer blood than my husband. He is probably one of the few men I would allow to give me my pure children…” With each man you list, the prince's face darkens more and more. You intended to play with the prince at first by making sure to name the men who appeared to side with his half-sister in regards to the throne. Similarly to how he had been teasing you moments ago. However, it seems you played too close to the flames. As when the name of his uncle, and now the name of a man seen as a sworn enemy of the crown, is mentioned from your lips, the prince pulls your face towards his own by the grip on your neck, and claims you with a fiery kiss. The warmth of him spread throughout you, and It truly at that moment felt like you were playing with a true dragon…

“What about me, sweet girl? Am I of purer blood than that of your dead tainted husbands? Am I worthy enough to overflow your womb with my seed and show the kingdoms of how worthy I am?” His whispers make your whole body burn up, as if the blood of the dragon was running through your veins.

“I cannot say my prince… I think you’ll have to show me if you truly think you are worthy enough…” It is the feral-like sound from which the prince releases from deep within, that reminds you once more who it is who is about to claim both you and your body. A dragon. That is what stands before you, and is ready to claim you and change your life forever.

The feeling of the prince's body forcibly overpowering your own as he drags you from the chair you were previously on to the bed, brings a feeling throughout you that Geralt could never have ever achieved.

“Present yourself fully to your prince.” The words drip with lust and desire, as he does not even wait for you to properly respond. Instead, he just tears the weak material straight from your body, leaving you left in only your small clothes before him. His single eye roams over your body greedily to take all of your nude self in. However, you can see it stop at the sight of your heaving chest, your shallow breaths leaving your chest to stutter slightly.

“Gevie…” He mutters before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, no doubt forcing deep coloured marks to form soon after this is over. His mouth wanders even lower though, sucking and biting gently in his wake, before stopping at the skin of your inner thighs, biting softly at the flesh. The sensations make small whines to leave your mouth whenever his teeth seemingly went deep enough to leave indents of his teeth.

The prince does not appear to be in a hurry. As instead of acting like a true dragon would and just taking you, he just stares at the fabric concealing your dripping core from him with a hooded eye. He does not even attempt to move it, as a lone hand of his simply brushes over the fabric lightly. Your head tilts back at the pleasure, so you are unable to see him grinning proudly at the sound of your whines for him when he does this again, and again. Maybe this is your punishment for mentioning his traitorous uncle? Or maybe he is just simply teasing you again…

“Please my prince… show me how I deserve to be blessed with your seed…” You whine, the words must have driven some part of him, as the next thing you know, your smallclothes are being torn off you like the rest of your clothes, and a warm wet tongue is feasting on your cunt giving you the best pleasure you’ve felt in your whole life.

“Oh fuck!” You shout. There is no real need to be quiet, as who is there to hear you? While you yourself are moaning loud enough for the seven to hear, you almost miss the sounds of the prince's own groans, seemingly already addicted to the taste of your arousal that all but leaks from your quivering body onto his awaiting and eager tongue.

“Ao sylutegon se sȳrje … kesan brōzagon ao ñuha mērī ābra sir till se mōris…” He groans into the depth of your cunt, the vibrations adding that extra arousal needed to begin your push over the edge. The words themselves mean nothing to you, and you find that you don’t really care, as you feel the coil deep within you begin to tighten more and more. “Please my prince let me cum!” You shout, “Please my prince!” You try to stop yourself from releasing, you really do, but at the sight of the prince's head seemingly nodding in allowance, you feel yourself releasing on the prince's talented tongue harshly, leaving you breathless and lightheaded.

While you attempt to try and recover from your peak, you can still feel his tongue inside of you, the wet sounds reaching your ears. He acts as if he was trying to claim and taste the last remnants of your peak and arousal, before he no doubt soon rips another from your quivering body.

As the prince lifts his body up to take off his own clothing, you get the glimpse of his arousal covered face. In the current light, you can see his mouth and his chin shining, and it spreads an entire new feeling of arousal within you you didn’t even know was possible. It only worsens though, as you watch him collect some of your juices from his chin with his finger, before sucking on it with an appreciative sound as the taste glides over his tongue.

“Do not call me your prince, call me by my name. Call me Aemond.” He mutters, before he silences your response as he bends to your level to claim your lips with his own.

It’s the combined taste of your arousal on his lips, and the feeling of his erect cock touching the skin of your inner leg, that makes a pathetic whine leave your lips. You almost release another, when the prince, no Aemond, backs away for a moment to look at you with a hooded expression. He truly looks like a dragon about to devour you…

The prince's hands trail over your sweat layered skin with the kind savagery only seen belonging to a man in war. Because by technicality, he is. Aemond Targaryen has no idea when he will die in this Targaryen bloodshed, so he makes sure that he acts on his desires and takes all that you will give to him with great pleasure.

He pumps his cock a few times, to which you watch with eager eyes at the sight of beads of his pleasure coming from the tip of his cock. Much to your surprise and gratitude though, he inserts himself slowly inside of you, and the mixed sounds of his and yours groans of pleasure echo in the room, mixing as one.

Soon, the feeling of the prince's careful and precise thrusts whilst pleasurable, becomes not enough for you. Your legs hook around the prince's waist, and you take Aemond by surprise as you turn the two of you over and take no time in beginning to bounce harshly on his cock.

The deep groans that the prince lets out at the new position are easily one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “Qogralbar… Konir sagon ziry… sȳz līve gūrogon aōha pleasure hen aōha dārilaros…” Again, the strange words' ,most likely to be that of Valyrian, are lost on you. But the way they sound coming from his tongue specifically, spark something almost primal deep inside. The grip that Aemond has on the skin of your thighs, will no doubt leave harsh and deep coloured bruises, and yet when you feel the sparks of pain from his actions, equally arousing sparks of pleasure get sent all the way up your spine.

Your hands grasp at Aemonds skin for some kind of stability, and your nails dig into his skin so harshly as you try to ground yourself, that you can see small droplets of blood beginning to mark the surrounding flesh. The very sight of it though does not deter you, and if anything it makes you harsher in your efforts for another peak to wash over you.

Although, Aemond surprises you by gripping at your hips and beginning to harshly thrust himself upwards into your wet heat. His cock reached the rough patch deep inside of you that you never knew existed. You were so invested in this new pleasure though, that you had no idea that at this development you had begun to practically shout your pleasures loudly and clearly into the room.

As his cock head bullies that spot inside you, one of his hands reaches to take hold of your neck similarly to earlier. But the grip he holds you now is harsher and less careful, and it makes you breathless. “Oh fuck…” You murmur as your head begins to fill with a strange fuzziness sensation. You feel like you could honestly die there and then. You’ve never felt this type of pleasure before. Never with your husband, and not even with yourself whenever you tried exploring your body as a young girl. The feelings that Aemond was giving you, made the entire world numb, and your body fucking electric.

“Will you let me shoot my seed deep inside you?” Finally, he speaks some words you can understand, other than his deep groans he was serenading you with moments ago. “Will you allow me to show the seven kingdoms the woman who carries my babe in her belly?”

The whine you let out is involuntary, as well as the imagery that comes to mind of you walking eagerly with the prince, a swelling belly officially holding the babe of a man worthy of possessing his blood inside of your womb.

“Yes my prince… show me exactly how worthy you are of me…” A devious idea comes to mind, and a smirk is present on your face as you next speak. “Show me if you truly are better than my husband, the Strong…”

Aemonds face visibly darkens with anger, and the grip that he holds your skin with tightens. His thrusts are harsh as he forcibly brings you to your peak, the feeling of it all rushing through your body at speeds you had no idea was imaginable.

Even when you feel yourself try to recover, the overstimulation begins to set in as Aemond continues to thrust up into you, even as you begin to go numb all over. Still, you’re thankful at the sound of Aemonds deep growl as you feel the warmth of his cum fill you to your brim.

As you gaze down at the heaving body of Aemond, your eyes drink him all in. The blood that you had caused to be brought up from his chest, ran in small delicate trails down his skin, and it excited you all over again to see it.

A knock rings from the door, and to your surprise, Aemond merely sits up to hold you in his arms and tells the person to enter.

It is not a man who enters, but a boy who looks as if he was already scarred by the war he has joined. It is a pity to even look at, but it certainly looks up as you see the shock on the boy's face when he observes the room and spots the body of your former husband, now stiff and pale on the floor.

“What is it you need?” Aemond snaps, his tone making the boy's eyes snap to look at him, only for the boy's eyes to wander to you, and takes over you unashamedly. He is only able to see the nude form of your back, and yet your body still burns with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the situation.

“Ser Cole said that when we are sure all the male Strongs were dead, we were to await your orders my prince.”

“Now that the males are dead, I command you to tell the others to make sure that they leave no Strong alive, except this one… this one will be of great use to me…” Aemond murmurs, a single finger tracing the skin of your face to look only at him, as he gazes at you deeply.

You can hear the door shut behind you, and while the silence overcomes the room you cannot help but question Aemonds previous command. “What of the women like me?” The prince raises a single brow, as if he is confused. Yet he is Aemond Targaryen, the man who has near successfully committed a whole genocide on a single house in one day. You cannot allow him to dodge a question on the basis of fake confusion. “Women born not of house Strong, and yet sold to them to be wedded and bedded for their blood to be spread?”

“Why little one they too must die, for they have had the seed of a strong taint their womb forever more. While you on the other hand my lady, knew of the tainted blood of House Strong, and rightfully rid yourself of any opportunity to taint yourself. House Strong must die, my darling, and not only by blood, but by name as well. Surely you must understand, given out shared hatred moments ago?”

“Is my name not Strong currently, my prince?” You tease. Your face widening in a content smile as Aemond dots wet and no doubt marking kisses on the skin of your neck, high enough so your collars may not cover them, so all could see who has done this to you.

“Soon my darling… soon it shall be Targaryen. And it shall also be the name of my son who is currently sleeping in your belly…”

His hand traces your skin, and you hope he does not raise it higher in fear that he will hear the sound of your heart racing at his words. You cannot find yourself able to reply to him, as the words seem to die in your throat. Instead, you simply lay your head on his shoulder, and try to blank out the high feminine screams of your fellow women as they begin to echo on the cold castle walls. The single tear that begins to roll from your eye could easily have been from the emotional turmoil you have faced, or it could easily be sadness and regret of what you have just done. You will never know…

High Valyrian Translates Part:

• Gevie - beautiful

• Ao sylutegon se sȳrje… kesan brōzagon ao ñuha mērī ābra sir till se mōris - You taste the best… I will call you my only woman now till the end

• Qogralbar… Konir sagon ziry… sȳz līve gūrogon aōha pleasure hen aōha dārilaros - fuck… thats it… good whore take your pleasure from your prince

969 notes · View notes

lovelykhaleesiii · 10 months

Note

Bestie, can we pleaaaaaase get some cockwarming with Aegon? I feel like he would be all over that, what with all the slapping and kicking around that he gets from his family. I saw a gif set that had all the instances where people are manhandling him and I haven’t been able to get out of my head on how touch starved he would be for praise and love and proximity. I COULD FIX HIM!!

nonnie I’m going to need that gif set tattooed on my brain. he’s a feral man!!! hope you enjoy xx

Touch Starved.

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,879.

WARNINGS: slight dom!Aegon, touch-starved Aegon + fem!Reader, breeding kink, female oral receiving, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, creampie (?), cockwarming amplified!!!

A/N - I got a little carried away with this one, but I hope you enjoy xox images do not belong to me, so credit to the origins.

Being King was an honour, yet in Aegon's eyes, rather a life-long sentence. Having battled and fought his way to success, dethroning and vanquishing his elder sister and her entire bloodline, Aegon came up ontop.

When it came down to his family, the man was willing to look the Stranger dead in the eye for them, and that did not exclude you.

You scarcely saw your husband during the Dance of the Dragons [as the maesters and historians dubbed the feud]. Aegon was adamant on keeping you far from harm’s way, even if that meant to have you locked up in some desolate castle in the Vale, guards posted at your door day and night, and an escape route planned if need be. If he lost you, it would be the end for him.

“My point of living would cease to exist without you my beloved.”

Nonetheless, Aegon peservered, for the sake if his family, for the sake of you. In return for winning, he not only secured his position in the realm, or the safety and security if his family... He had long been deprived and desperate for your touch, as simple as it may sound, it was a long, hard battle to resist the urge to climb on Sunfyre's back, flying over to you, only to expose your precise whereabouts. He refused to risk it, and suffered the consequence of being starved of you.

Now the wait was over, for good riddance...

****

A fulfilling, intimate family feast was held in honour of their successes and also in memory of their losses. Everyone dined, drank, laughed and cried. As grateful as everyone was to be reunited once more, Aegon had one thing on his mind only, and he grew impatient as the minutes went by, and you stirred the same.

Excusing yourself, you gave your husband with yet another beloved peck on the cheek, one of many endless, fleeting kisses that you showered him upon your return, before lovingly whispering in his ear "Please do hurry, my King...It has been far too long, I need you."

Your hand lightly grazing over his back as you strolled behind, sharing one last glimpse at Aegon, whose hungry eyes lingered over at your faint smile drawn across your face, before disappearing behind the oak doors.

As you sped to your familiar, shared chamber, changing into your sheer, silk white nightly gown, Aegon entered right on cue. Like he always had before the war, getting used to your bedtime routine. The innocent, nostalgic moments that you had observantly noticed, warmed your heart since your return.

"There you are, my beloved-" Reaching out for his rough hand stretched outwards towards you, lifting you up effortlessly, as he pulled you in closer towards him. This close up, you realised the toll the war had taken on Aegon, the fine details of his scarred flesh of his left face, the feel of its ruggard texture on his wounded hand, saddened you immensely. Yet the tearful, tenderness of his lilac eyes, and half-hearted smile

"Oh, how I've missed you my dear. The angel of my dreams-"

Without a moment more to spare, Aegon plunged his plump lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Pushing himself deeper into yours, his grasp over your sides felt firm, yet reassuring, not wanting him to ever let you go again. Releasing from the kiss, his lips remained lightly grazing over yours, as he softly spoke.

"I dreamt of you every lonesome night, saw your beautiful face before I woke dreading the next day. Oh Gods, Y/N, I couldn't bear it any longer."

"Neither could I, my love."

Once more, the kiss resumed distracting you from Aegon's busy hands, that began to slowly undress you. As you felt your gown and under garments suddenly drop from your body, the cool chill of the night's air and Aegon's light grip, massaging at your breasts, sent goosebumps over your body. His thumb flicking at your sensitive, perked nipples, feeling a smirk spike across his face.

"Gods, how I've fucking missed this body-"

Taking a few steps back as Aegon carefully led you to the bed's edge, gently laying you down, as you repositioned yourself further up. Making enough room for Aegon to follow on top, he remained standing as he removed his shirt and undid his pants. You closely noticed the healed burn scars traveling down his left side to his ribs, and several healed stab wounds barred across his chest.

"Apologies, my dearest wife, I am not as handsome as you once remembered."

The melancholy in his low, soft-spoken voice, made it seem as though Aegon was somewhat guilty of his appearance, of his survival.

"No... You are even more exquisite, Aegon. A King who fought for his people, his family...For me."

Aegon now leaning over you, begins to suckle and peck at the soft skin of your inner thigh, making his gradual way up. Leaving a wet, moist trail as he makes his way upto your entrance, he comes to a sudden halt, as his Valyrian eyes linger over your throbbing cunt, to your face momentarily. A cocky look glimmering across his face, as he subtly raises a brow, taking a deep inhale of your scent, as his nose lingered over your cunt.

"Fuck, I can just smell you. That scent. Been missing that sweet, sweet taste in my mouth-," He deeply growls, as he his lips latch onto your folds, his tongue piercing through between, as it begins to sensually lap and encircle your insides.

Seven Hells, it felt like an eternity since you'd lived this pleasure.

Your moans began to stir as small whimpers, your back arching as your hips buck forward ever so slightly. Your palm gently pushing down on Aegon's head agains your bare cunt, as your fingers entangled and pulled at his short, platinum strands.

"Hhmm, Aeg-"

His strong, muscular arms snake around your thighs, as his hands firmly grip at your flesh, spreading them apart even more, as he pulls himself up more. In an effort, his tongue shoves in deeper into your wet folds, guzzling and licking at your dripping ooze, not allowing a single drop to fall.

"That's it, A-Aeg. Feels s-so good."

A few more rousing laps around and around your folds, your moans growing louder and more careless, Aegon frees himself, as he takes a grand, deep breath in, licking his glistening lips.

"Fuck- Only the Gods know how starved I have been for you, craving for this very moment-"

Straightening himself up on his sturdy knees, his broad, wounded chest heaving: watching Aegon towering over you in an almost threatening way, as though his warfare mentality remained unmoving since the Dance ended.

"Stay still, angel. Think you can still take me?"

One arm stretched out by your head, keeping him steadily supported, and the other reaching for his cock, cautiously pulling it out from his unbuttoned pants. It seemed that during the agonising time that had passed since, by the sheer sight of it, was enough to send you beyond the Narrow Seas. You had grown ignorant in memory of its size, its girth and its capability.

"My body will take for you, my King. I need you Aeg, I want you."

"Such a good girl. My good girl. Take me so well, and I'll reward you with a babe in your belly."

Only having prepared you a few moments ago, as Aegon crept and shoved his thick, veiny cock into your wet cunt, moaning cry bled from your mouth, as your eyes viscerally swelled with tears of joy.

"That's it Princess, just give it a few seconds-Shhh-" Now gently laid atop of you resting on his forearms, one hand gently caressed at your hair, brushing it away from your face, as the other stroked away your tear.

His warm breath, dense and heavy, as his formidable chest pushed up and heaved against your tender breasts. One hand remained tugging at your loose hair, as the other wreathed down below, firmly gripping at your waist.

Aegon's pace, once steady at first, began to hasten, growing sloppier. Breathlessly cursing incoherent words, the tight sensation of your touch-starved walls clenching over him, aching for him to bury himself deeper. The fat, blush tip pummelling at your cervix, you were certain it would bruise against the tense friction and stiff pressure.

"F-Fuck Y/N, so tight for me baby, still so tight. Need to fuck every bit of you tonight and all the nights to come, for all the lost time."

"Y-Yes, Aeg. Stay with me-"

"The realm needs a new heir, m-my love. I will fuck a babe into you tonight, make you s-so full of me, till you drip of me."

His grueling grunts and stuttering words were pure ecstasy, feeling his grip on you tighten, as his lips found their way to the sweet spot in the crook of your neck, suppling at your soft skin.

"I want to see you dripping of me till this precious belly swells with my babe. I've been keeping you waiting and alone, for far too long. Now a part of me will be inside."

"Y-Yes Aeg, yes, my King."

"F-Fuck, I'm going to cum-"

The sudden spill of his hot seed messily tainting and coating your insides, shooting against your clit was a feeling that sent you into an oblivion. Naturally, your eyes rolled back, nails clawed deep into Aegon's fleshy back as you pulled yourself up into his mass. In return, you felt the invigorating release of the built up tension from between your thighs, as your cum began to ooze, painting Aegon's cock and inner thighs, as he remained inside.

"Seven Hells, that was amazing-"

Although your memory vague, you could reminisce the fine details, when Aegon would often remove himself, to clean up the carnage made, as he warmly tended to you. Yet he remained deeply buried inside, adjusting himself and effortlessly man-handling you by his side, sprawled on the mattress, as he embraced you cosily.

"I need to feel you around me. I need you to feel me inside. Do not think to remove yourself, wife, or else... We shall sleep like this from now either till your belly swells or I die."

You did not refuse your royal husband the privilege, for the unfathomable time apart left you eager for his proximity, blessed in each other's grace and touch. Remaining true to his word, Aegon remained inside of you, whispering lustrous praises of how obedient, and extraordinary you were for taking him so well, as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Keeping you closely and tightly embraced in his strong arms, from time to time, as you rose consciousness in the late, dark hours of the night, you could feel the tension between your inner thighs, as your walls remained sorely stretched out, oozing with a familiar wetness feeling Aegon's pulsating cock inside.

Gods, the servants would have immense fun with the clean-up in the morrow. Eager to awaken to Aegon reaching yet another fulfilling climax, his body was sufficient enough to prove just how unimaginably he had truly missed your every inch. His tender, honest words, however, were just the sweet cherry on top.

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @urabloodsucker @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea

Aegon taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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dropofdrool · 10 months

Text

What the night does to the day - Alex Turner x Reader

Summary: Alex can't sleep alone during a hot summer night, so he decides to call for his baby.

Warnings: mature content (read responsibly), fem!reader, masturbation - self giving, dirty talk

Word count: 2.7 k

!! This is my first time writing not in my native language, so I hope this doesn't affect anyone's reading. Also, for this reason I didn't want to write something particularly original, just my personal version of a common fantasy that I’ve been thinking of for some time.

~☀︎︎~

The night was soft. The air exuded humidity after the heavy downpour, and the heat was stirred by warm gusts of wind, like pants after an intense sex. Alex shuffled to the sill and pulled the window open, hoping to catch one of those fleeting whiffs. The air movement was like balm on his bare, sweaty skin, but left him even hotter than before. Even the last piece of cloth that covered his body ended up on the floor. There, it wouldn't have been more useful than on his body, but at least it wouldn't have been in his way. He lay down, spread eagle, on the bed with too heavy blankets. Oh, his lovely darling, she loved to keep the duvet even in the summer. In this way, she could bask herself in the softness of the sheets, as she rolled around naked in their softness. Since she'd left, he still hadn't had the heart to change them. Those sheets smelled like her perfume, sweat, humours, natural sweetness.

He was so hot, it was unbearable. Another gust of breeze teased his legs, and he activated for a moment, hopeful, but then grunted in disappointment. He had wanted to delude himself that it was her hands touching him, delicate and relieving, but nothing. She wasn't there. For too long now.

Come on, she's been away for just three days. Just? No one had touched him for three days, and that was beginning to affect his body. She used to touch him often, and for him it had almost turned into an addiction; before he knew it, he found it impossible to live without her. Actually, he didn't ask for much: he didn't need to penetrate her every day, wet his lips with her to feel that she was really his. A kiss was enough, her hand on his shoulder or one of those powerful hugs that she used to vent her joy. I'm like a reptile, I'll die without her warmth, Alex thought dramatically. Indeed, at the moment he felt right like a lizard in the desert, slow and dehydrated; all it needed to complete the picture was a bit of sand. He ran his hand over his face, and his eyes stung with sweat. Then, he brought that hand to his lips, in a casual gesture, that however made him flinch in surprise. He was extraordinarily sensitive. A rush of pleasure shot through his body and suddenly, he was aroused. The endless immobility of the heat made everything unpredictable.

Carefully, he slid one hand down his neck, feeling it quiver. His chest, covered in light, soft hair, rose and fell now irregularly as he touched himself, curious. First his pecs, then his abs, v-line, even thighs. He marvelled at how toned he was: the training, as well as the effort on stage, had its effect on his body. Oh, I like it, he thought. But what does she think about it? Several times she’d told him how watching and touching his body sent her into ecstasy, a conflict between the desire to admire him as a painting and actually touch him, to confirm that he was a property of hers, a work of art that she alone could enjoy. Her voice was broken with sincerity as she spoke, blood rushing to her cheeks and eyes wide and bright: she seemed to be declaiming an ode in honour of a god. Her words sounded funny to him, because sometimes he forgot that he was no longer the boy with buzzed hair that girls used to look at with affection only. Now, he was a rather attractive man in the prime of his life, according to what he was told. Despite that, he needed her attentions only.

He really wanted to believe that he deserved her adoration, but he just couldn't understand how anyone could worship him with such strength and honesty. However, in those moments, he remembered how that feeling wasn't so unnatural in the end: he just had to think about how much he was capable of loving her. His muse, goddess, comfort, despair: oh, if only she loved him half as much as he loved her, what a lucky man he would be! He thought about the feeling of inhibition, helplessness in front of the glory of her person, brilliant mind, sparkling soul, radiant body and enveloping warmth and softness and wetness and moans sighs lovebites pleasure

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He needed her now. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her next to him. Over him. Under. On all fours, with her head pressed on the pillow while

You need to call her. He grunted. “Yeh can't, silly,” he said out loud, to make it clear. She's been busy today, and she'll be tomorrow too, you can't disturb her. But it was hot by her too, surely she was tossing in her sleep, tormented by the heat. Maybe she's not sleeping. Maybe she was in his same situation, craving his touch and company.

The unavoidable thought flashed through his mind. Just for a second, but it was enough to make him moan. He imagined her hands running along her body, tracing its irregularities as precious as diamonds to his eyes. Perhaps, she would have teased her nipples, erect and sensitive, sighing and then laughing at her own action. Slapped her thighs lightly, as he liked so much to do, to see them shine and move in the moonlight. Then, her slender fingers would have met the soft wetness between her legs, rubbing playfully at first, then desperately, seeking relief. He felt the familiar rush of blood boil towards his lower abdomen, discovering that he was half-hard already. Mm, that’s nice. That’s really, really… Without thinking, his hand ended up around his length and he began to slowly stroke himself. An all too loud grunt escaped his lips and he pouted, annoyed. He didn't want this for tonight, a pointless wank that’d only get his sheets dirty in vain. If that had really to be done, he didn't want to be alone through it. Before he knew it, his fingers were dialing her number and his phone was ringing. He felt the waiting with his whole body, hoping that she was awake or would become soon.

"Honey, what are you doing up this late at night?"

An audible sigh left his lips, a weight seemed to unhook from his heaving chest.

"Can’t sleep. 'M feeling a lil’ blue."

“Poor sweetheart. How so?"

“‘S too hot in here.”

“You should try and stay here! I've been laying here naked for hours, smeared on the bed. I can't even remember the last time I saw the curtains move because of the fucking wind. At least you’ve got a fan.”

The fan, right. Surely, it was holed up in some hidden corner of the house, and surely she’d taken it there, to do who knows what strange things. Where was he supposed to find the strength to get up and go look for it?

“I can barely move me limbs, I fink yeh'll find meh fused to yehr bloody duvet when yeh get back.”

She laughed. It was a breathless laugh, maybe a little tired, but honest. His heart ached with a twinge of nostalgia.

"I missed hearing yeh laugh."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes. I've been finking about yeh all night. All day, to be honest. Everyday."

Alex heard a sigh from the other end of the phone, and he was sure she’d smiled. He heard the sheets shift, as if she'd rolled over in her bed.

"What are you thinking about?"

“I’m finking about how it's been three foockin’ days since anyone’s touched meh. It ‘urts more than the heat, and the 'and I burned myself yesterday trying to grill a stupid steak.”

She laughed again. He loved making her laugh.

“Honey, do I need to remind you that you also have your little big hands to touch yourself?”

Little bastard. He loved her.

"Yeh want meh to say that mine are nothing compared to yehrs, don't yeh?"

"That’s not true. The expressions and noises that you make… they are no less luscious when we do that thing I like so much, right Alex?”

He knew exactly what she meant.

"Tell meh about it."

“Only if you make sure your little big sweet hands are on your cock while I do it, stroking it exactly the way I want.”

Well, they finally got there. Alex felt himself burning.

“Okay,” he moaned.

"Perfect." she replied. She sighed shakily, then started to speak.

“That thing I like so much, love, is when you please yourself without me doing anything. I love watching you as my mere presence turns you on, and you caress yourself and moan oh so sweetly. The first time we did that, you were so nervous. You'd stripped completely, and so had I; I sat on the bed with my legs crossed and you could see everything, my darling, you couldn't take your eyes off from between my thighs…" The first moan slipped out from his lips. Behind the black of his closed eyelids, he saw a flash of her open, wet, pink flower ready and throbbing for him; she who acted as if nothing happened, her hands tucked underneath her thighs and her adoring eyes wide open, ready to enjoy his little show.

“You said you didn't understand what I wanted you to do. I remember you looking like a lil' lost puppy, yet your cock was there, standing between us, throbbing and so hard in your hands. Your body was glowing, love. I told you to touch yourself like your sixteen self would in your childhood bedroom, when a pretty girl had fluttered beside you in the morning and that tingling sensation in your stomach just refused to go away; when the shame surrendered to the instinct, and there was only you and the desperate pursuit of pleasure in the room.”

“But back then the pretty girl was right in front of meh, almost worse off than meh. Yeh were glorious and I 'ad never touched meself for anyone, it seemed like a waste."

"You changed your mind, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. I could ‘ave come joost because of yehr gaze.”

“And I because of yours. How funny’d have it been, if we’d actually came there, just because we were staring at each other?"

“I don't know if that's the funniest or most erotic fing I've ever ‘eard. Oh…"

He’d accidentally flicked his wrist too quickly, and now he felt the relentless knot in his belly begin to tighten, a rousing pleasure crawl up his spine.

“Not so fast, baby. Breathe, slow down.”

“Are yeh with meh, honey?”

“Oh yes Alex. Yes, yes, there’s such a mess on my bed now. So empty, so cold…”

"Yeh 'ave to 'old on love, I can't stay away from yeh anymore too, but I promise that when yeh’ll come back I’ll make yeh feel so good, yeh'll wonder if these lonely moments weren't joost a bad dream.”

"You sure?" she whispered, her voice broken, this time from something different than pleasure; Alex recognized that she was holding back tears in her throat.

“Yes honey, that's a promise. Don't cry, focus on us. On yehr fingers, babeh, keep moving 'em. How many d’yeh ‘ave inside?”

She sniffed, then let out a soft moan.

"Two…"

“Good, yeh're doing so well… if I were with yeh, love, I'd take yehr little fingers in my ‘and and lick ’em clean of all yehr sweetness. God, I love yehr ‘ands so much… when I squeeze yehr wrists, I almost feel like I could break 'em, yet they ‘ave such an effect on meh, when they work so well between me legs. It may be true that I love touching meself, especially when it pleases yeh too, but without the dream of yehr touch I’d die, my darling."

“God, Alex, you have no idea how you're making me feel…”

“‘M glad. I'm so close…”

The orgasm began to blossom in Alex's lower abdomen, and his body arched. He closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his sensations. He panted heavily, revelling in the orchestra of moans and sighs of his name on the other end of the phone. He felt so empty, deprived of his other half, yet so full, knowing that despite the distance they were still with each other, in the middle of the night, coming together. He smiled. Suddenly, a thunder ripped through the silence of the sky. The pounding of a precious and unpredictable midsummer rain filled Alex' ears, in a vibrant crescendo that shook him to the core, making him tremble.

"Alex Alex Alex I'm right there, come with me..."

He ignored his wrist beginning to feel tired, stroking his cock ready to receive an orgasm. His whole body claimed it, and he desperately chased it, abandoned to passion like a seed carried by the spring wind. Suddenly, his eyes fell on her bedside pillow. He saw a detail that he hadn't noticed until then. A smudge of lipstick, top left. Surely, when it still painted its owner's lips, it must have been of a magnetic, inhibiting brilliance. Now it was faded with age, but it still stood out like a crimson flower in the snow white sheets.

That did it for Alex. He remembered how that loveprint had stained her pillow: he thought about her face pressed into it, her back arched and shining as he took her from behind, lovingly holding her hips and breasts, craving another pair of arms to be able to touch her entirely. "Harder, Alex, please don't stop..." she moaned, biting the pillow and smudging it with the lipstick that she hadn't had time to take off after their night out. Her body spoke too, claiming and urging him, writhing her oh so soft hips against his. Because of those lips on the pillow, Alex felt himself wet his own hand, a fog cloud every other thought as all the tension left his body. Sweet relief. He collapsed on the bed, managing to hear the last loud moan of his love. He waited to calm down, panting; his heartbeat didn't seem to want to slow down.

"Honey, are you there? Do you feel good? It's not time to die of a heart attack during sex yet…"

This time it was he who laughed with joy.

"I feel in heaven, love. Oh, I love yeh so much..."

His voice trembled with the intensity of his own words, as if his mouth alone couldn't express what he was feeling. His body proved it too, since it had just been blessed by the ecstasy of the senses at the mere thought of her.

"D’you remember what we did the night before yeh left?"

"Mm, I don't know, we do lots of things…"

"Tha’ lipstick yeh were wearing. It's still on the pillow."

"Oh…"

Alex smiled, knowing that she had realised.

"Yes, now I remember… you rascal, you were insatiable that night."

"Insatiable, meh? I don't remember it being meh who asked yeh to spank meh."

"Pff, you're a cowboy now, Turner, certain things shouldn't shock you anymore." she teased him in an American accent.

They stayed together for a few more minutes, without saying anything; her presence, even if just virtual, relaxed him and he didn't want to let her go. The rain dropped lazily, unhurried on the roof, in an incessant lullaby that slowly began to weigh on his satisfied eyelids. He yawned.

“Honey, I think it's time to go back to sleep. I've loved spending time with you, but tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day…”

“Mm.”

That painful twinge of nostalgia made its way back into his heart, but he chased it away. She had just shown him that she would always be there for him, even in the middle of the night: what more could he desire?

“See you tomorrow then, sunshine. I love you."

"Love yeh too, sleep well."

"You too, goodnight my love."

She cut off the call. Alex threw back his head, breathing deeply. He didn't have the strength to get up and clean the mess he’d made; that would have been next morning’s business. He took the galeotto pillow, hugged it and sank his tired yet satisfied face in it. He closed his eyes, ready to abandon himself to sweet dreams of her.

~☀︎︎~

Notes: "Galeotto" is an Italian adjective that means "love intermediary", "guilty of having made two people fall in love", just as the pillow of our lovebirds; Dante Alighieri uses it in the Divine Comedy to indicate the book that Paolo and Francesca were reading when they fell in love.

#alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #fantasies

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agendabymooner · 9 months

Text

sweet little similarities ! sebastian v. x ofc (filipino!ofc)

summary: the little kimuel vettel is becoming more like his dad sebastian as the days go on. AND the vettels go on family trips with the schumachers while everyone dote on the little man.

content warning: dad!seb and mom!ofc, seb is at his beekeeping/country living phase (not age), tooth rotting fluff, gina and ofc (barbie) being besties, brief mention of ofc (barbie) x mick schumacher relationship, the parents being matchmakers, the vettels are just amazing lol, uncle lewis in the comments, baby!vettel is sebastian coded and i love them ur honour

note: i’m back in town, now i have to pack my stuff before moving in two weeks :) enjoy xx

masterlist

liked by lance_stroll, lewishamilton, ginaschumacher

user1 POUTY BABIES 😭😭

user2 i’m scared of the day kimi becomes a driver— god knows what can happen when a vettel steps into the room

user3 a lot of kindness and feral energy for sure 🥹

barblanco no wonder why i’ve seen kimi’s pout before! it’s from seb! 🤣 liked by belongvettel

belongvettel you’ve seen it way too many times in the past eight years 😂

mickschumacher he definitely is seb 2.0 liked by belongvettel

belongvettel no doubt!

lewishamilton he might be shy but he is so much like seb because of how tight his hugs could get 😂 liked by belongvettel

belongvettel he learned from the best! ❤️

scuderiaferrari who did it better?

belongvettel definitely kimi 😂

scuderiaferrari we agree 😩

barblanco posted a story !!!

tagged ginaschumacher, mickschumacher, belongvettel

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, logansargeant

ginaschumacher omg best friend we looked so cute in that first pic 😭 liked by barblanco

barblanco i agree best friend !!!

mickschumacher ginaschumacher 😒😒😒

user1 i live to see gina and mick fighting over barbie like yes bby i love me some sibling rivalries

user2 mother bel 🥰

user3 kimi kimi kimi a man after midnight liked by barblanco

logansargeant jealous of your trip not gonna lie 😅 liked by barblanco

barblanco from one person from a hot weather area to another, i’d never recommend going to a cold weather place without any preparation 😂 me and kimi were practically wrapped around the thickest jackets ever and i thought i had to waddle around with them

alex_albon i’m not the type to be all protective but YOU gotta be careful lad 😳

user4 that’s alex warning logan about mick schumacher in case y’all looking for a context

arthurleclerc is that you teaching kimi how to snowboard?!

charles_leclerc is that you trying to “make conversations”?!

user5 i’m being promptly fed with bel, kimi and seb contents 😍✨

belongvettel some much needed vacation with you girls!! ❤️ liked by barblanco

ginaschumacher next time we’ll take kimi and leave the other two behind 🤩

barblanco ginaschumacher but that would mean that we’d have another seb in the trip 🤨

ginaschumacher no headaches though 😍 just spoiling bby kimi

tagged barblanco, ginaschumacher, mickschumacher

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, landonorris

oscarpiastri mick you’re getting TOO lucky mate

landonorris why am i seeing too much barbie and mick?? 😭

user1 bro don’t complain about it 😭 they might get scared

user2 where??? which one are the mick and barbie content?

user1 photos 6 and 8!!!

lewishamilton look at seb and kimi!!! he must be the most energetic person out of all of you 😂 liked by belongvettel

belongvettel kimi or seb? because either way they are always extremely energetic whenever they’re together 😂😂

user4 if kimi’s a mini sebastian then you must have the sweetest people loving the shit out of you 😭 i like the thought of that sm liked by belongvettel

belongvettel barbie is just as sweet too so i’m pretty much spoiled! 🥰😍

user5 barbie is the original sebastian jr. confirmed?!?!

user6 i’d say she’s half bel and half seb. she acts more like bel though!

user7 st. belinda of quezon, patron of the angels (sebastian and kimi)

bonus !!!

fun fact: kimi calls gina ‘gee’ and mick ‘kie’ (from mackie)

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wolven91 · 2 months

Text

Red Flags

It wasn’t a word, so much a general shout that came from Keith’s mouth. His intention was to distract and get attention from the burly slaver, despite a healthy sense of self preservation telling him to keep hiding.

He succeeded, the canid turned it’s head, spittle being flung from its bared teeth. The sight of its curled snout, v’s of flesh and short fur bringing forth the memories of rabid dogs and dangerous hunters.

It leapt forward at him, but when Keith turned to run, his legs moved slowly, like he was wading through a waist high bog.

He felt the claws dig into his back, slaicing him up, causing him to flinch and desperately try to arc himself to pull away.

That was when he woke up.

He didn’t sit bolt upright or break out in a sweat or wake gasping.

Instead he laid there and let out a breath he was apparently holding. He reached underneath him and found one of his headphones had stuck itself to his lower back. The man grimaced as he put it on the bed side table with the other he retrieved from his ear.

Two days ago, there had been a slaver attack.

Since then his sleep was spotty at best, interspaced with dreams. It wasn’t always about the attack itself. Sometimes he was left behind somewhere, and no matter what he was always a second late to catch up with everyone else.

Or he was being chased.

Or he was being hunted.

Keith sighed, still underneath the blanket. Anxiety dreams.

The latest dream was the most vivid. He life, or at the very least his freedom had been saved thanks to a fik. The fik had launched itself at the canid slaver that was sniffing out his hiding place. But canid verses fik in a one on one wasn’t a fair fight, so Keith had jumped up from behind a crate and shouted to get the canid’s attention.

That was all the fik needed to jump over the creature’s head wrench the wolf-like alien’s head up and back down in a horrid, wet and loud ‘snap’.

The fik, a massive brute, touched a clawed hand to her chest then had slunked away, the last thing Keith saw was the tip of her tail, but her smell; clean sawdust, lingered. The guards for the station found him only moments later. They said no fiks were on board the station and Keith ‘hysteria’ had caused him to imagine a saviour after he came upon the body.

Keith sighed again, breathing in through his nose and intending to breath out through his mouth, trying to calm himself. He wasn’t due in work, but he felt lousy due to the poor sleep he’d been having.

His eyes opened in the dark and sniffed again.

Fresh sawdust.

He glanced round the dark room. He was in secure quarters, moreso than before. A canid security team had become is honour guard and shadow. They occupied both the rooms above, below and each side of his. He was safe, no way anyone could get in without them knowing.

But the shadows made strange shapes in the gloom.

He had a pile of laundry on the back of chair, it looked like a geckin in the dark.

He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into his bed and tried to calm himself. It was ‘just’ PTSD probably he tried to explain to himself. Just a panic attack, just a friendly old panic attack. You got this, calm down.

“Calm down..” He whispered, barely audible to himself. “You’re safe. No one’s here. No one is going to hurt you…” He words were starting to toe the line of desperate in tone when the new voice spoke.

“Wouldn’t allow it… Saaah…”

Keith’s eyes shot open, but he remained perfectly still.

“Tk tk tk… Breathe?”

Keith remained still. He had no way of getting help besides screaming at the top of his voice. Would they even hear him?!

Something heavy landed on the bed. He was laying on his side, but could feel two points either side of him pulling the duvet tight. He stayed perfectly still, not daring it breathe at all.

It straddled him, it was heavy and pushed his hips down into the large mattress until two large, padded and clawed hands grasped his head to gently, but surely turn him to face upwards.

The brutish fik. Blood pounded in Keith’s ears, he couldn’t hear anything over it.

“Hai! If Hek tells you to breathe; Sah! You breathe!” She ordered, almost hissing.

It was enough to snap Keith out of it, being told what to do and his mouth opened to gulp in much needed oxygen. One breath turned into two, then three.

The fik released his face, but didn’t get off him. Keith slumped onto his back and stared up at her in the dark. The other day she had been in metal armour, studded with bolts and screws that gave her a ‘Mad Max’ vibe.

Now it was all dark bandages that left nothing to the imagination. She had held herself wit the stereotypical fik hunch, but was still tall; tall enough to go toe to toe with a canid and hold them off.

Without another word, she laid down ontop of Keith, forcing the air out of his lungs as her shoulders and head pressed him into the mattress, forcing him onto his back.

“W-what…?”

“Hai… Sleeping time. No talking.”

“You’re in my room?”

“Haai?” She drew out the word as if it was obvious.

“You’re not going to hurt me? Kidnap me?”

This got her head to raise back up, she was scowling.

“Blackened night and creeping death; no.”

“Then why?”

She sighed and tilted her head.

“Saah… You are not… Clever… Hai, very well. Yes yes.” She cleared her throat and almost began before reaching a clawed finger up towards Keith’s face. It touched his forehead and pressed forward.

He hadn’t realised he’d raised his head and shoulders off the bed, but the relentless force of the finger pushed him back down into the pillows.

“Stay.” She ordered. “Hek, that is me; yes yes?”

“You’re ‘Hek’?”

“Hai. Good boy. Hek was on station when attack, yes? Hek protect you, you protect Hek. Hek decide to watch over for time.”

“O-okay? But-” A clawed finger returned to press against his lips.

“Ah! Hek talking. Hek reward if good.”

Keith went quiet and the giant interloper continued.

“Hek see Keeeeeith… No rest. Sleep bad. Yes.” She hissed in a negative fashion. “Unacceptable. Hek decide to help.”

“H-how?”

“Hek has seen this before. Terrible fight makes ghosts… spirits that haunt mind, yes? There is cure.”

“What’s the cure?”

“This.”

“What? What’s ‘this’?”

A sigh and the heavy body that pinned Keith squeezed him.

“Two guard, even if spirits slip within, two versus one is better, yes yes? Now. Sleep.”

Keith opened his mouth to speek but the finger returned.

“Hek willing to… ah… choke? Yes, choke you out… Speak no. Ah, no speak. Yes. Sleep.”

Keith blinked and went quiet, turning the situation over in his head. This fik had broken into his home and thrown herself on top of him. Yes she’d saved him, but this was more than a few red flags, this was the whole damn parade of the red army!

That was his last thought before he opened his eyes and it was mid-morning.

He’d slept and not only that, other than being dehydrated, he felt… rested.

The fik; was nowhere to be seen. Was it a dream?

He touched his hand to the duvet, it was messy but no overt evidence. Until his leant down and sniffed it. Clean sawdust.

“You’re here… aren’t you?” He mumbled, a touch over a whisper.

“Hai.” Came a voice. He couldn’t tell where from.

“I could call out.” He mentioned, turning at looking around the room. She was tall and broad, where the hell could she hide!?

“Hai.”

The threat was left dangling there…

She was dangerous, it was stupid not to involve his guards… But… it WAS good sleep…

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

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sxtaep · 2 years

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ALL I WANT - JJK | four

it wouldn’t hurt to wake your best friend up with morning head, right? admittedly, it was the best thing he’d ever woken up to.

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — fluff, smut

word count — 4.7k

chapter warnings/tags — bestfriends2lovers!au, fuckboy!jk, textbooknerd!reader, dom!jk, sub!reader, fluffy at the beginning, explicit content, teasing, morning head, oral (m receiving), handjob, lots of spit (so much), crying, choking, dirty talk, praise, begging, rough throat fucking, manhandling, fingering, nipple play, jungkook loves boobies, more spitting, use of vulgar language, tit fucking, cumshots +more

a/n: enjoy 🫶

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Being careful not to wake the larger male up, you tried to unravel yourself from within his arms, but as it turns out, Jungkook liked to squeeze in his sleep, so it took you a while to silently escape his embrace.

You stayed sitting up next to him, legs crossed and his arms draping over your lap as you stared down at Jungkook with utmost adoration in your eyes. There was a subtle smile gracing his lips and his cheeks looked so soft, you just wanted to leave a million tiny kisses against his skin.

And his lips… Jungkook had the most kissable lips you had the honour of tasting.

Would it be bad if you wanted to kiss him right now?

Would he not like it?

With a hopeful breath, you leaned in slowly, first leaving a gentle kiss against the scar on his cheek, just to make sure he was fully asleep, and much to your advantage, he didn’t move an inch. This gave you the a-ok to lean in towards him again, your lips softly brushing over his for a brief moment before finally latching your lips against his.

One thing about Jungkook; he was an exceptional sleeper. Nothing ever rocked him conscious unless it was on his own terms; the man made his brain his bitch, not the other way around.

A big thunderstorm? He easily slept through it.

People fighting outside his apartment? Unbothered.

Taehyung sneaking a girl into their place at the asscrack of dawn to fuck? Jungkook wouldn’t even know.

As a kid, it was great, but now that he was an adult with adult responsibilities… it sucked when he missed his alarm and therefore, missed his early morning lectures.

Being here with you in your space was no exception, and the dozing man didn’t budge a muscle the moment his childhood scar was greeted with a morning kiss, something that no other chick had ever taken the time to do since, it was kind of hard to properly study his face when they were too busy bouncing on his lap…

The second he awoke from the faintest touch of your lips pressed onto his, it was safe to say Jeon was shocked. A lot of self restraint went on in his head before the man decided to not give himself away, continuing to play asleep as he allowed you to have your way with him.

No reaction.

You pulled away from his lips to study his face. His lips hadn’t budged a bit, giving you every right to assume he was fast asleep. At least now you could live without Jungkook teasing you for being all soppy and cute, kissing him whilst he was asleep.

That just made your next step ten times easier..

Oh, he knew damn well what this meant… his cock nearly twitched as he waited for you to give him what he’d been waiting for since last night;

Jungkook swore he dreamt about it.

Propping your head up onto your palms, elbowing your pillow, you brought your body closer to his. The sheets that were once shielding your bare body, were now slipping down your front, a little cleavage coming into view. That could be another thing Jungkook wakes up to.

The so-called ‘promise’ Jungkook had casted upon you was lingering in the back of your mind as you dipped your hand under the covers, fingertips tracing each and every crevice of his God-like body whilst you kept your eyes glued to his face, anticipating some kind of reaction, but it seemed like the man slept like a rock. Your left hand did the job of tracing over his v-line, teasingly slow before your palm had completely cupped over his bulge, eyes widening feeling him throb against your palm.

He definitely wasn’t asleep, unless he was having a wet dream to be that hard already.

To answer a couple of your theories, you wrapped your small hands around his pulsating cock, leaning in towards him to lick the shell of his ear. “Are you sure you’re asleep, Koo? I don’t think you are…” you whisper, just in case he was actually asleep. “So hard already, were you dreaming about me taking your cock?” your voice remained steady and soft, wrists working around him to get the blood rushing to his hardening member. Jungkook was growing bigger within your grasp, and that was your queue to take the next step.

You let go of him, leaving his cock to stand tall and hard under the sheets whilst you dove under them, slowly and carefully sliding your bare body down next to him so you could straddle his legs and come face first with his morning wood, tip flushed pink and brooding.

“I’m the ‘bestest’ friend you’ve ever had,” you say to herself, letting your tongue slip past your lips and inch it self towards his erection, starting at the base, the tip of your tongue would slide up to the head of his cock, outlining every protruding vein you could spot. Along the way, you’d leave small kisses along the base, trailing them up to leave a tender kiss to his throbbing tip and then, without giving yourself nor him the time to adjust, your plump lips were wrapping around the head of his angry-looking cock.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N…”

So much for pretending to be passed out.

Jungkook couldn’t help it, the lazy grin playing at his chapped lips once he’d been caught or the slight bucking of his hips once you’d trapped him in place with just your lips alone, feeling himself grow bigger and more rigid within the limited space of his best friend’s mouth as Jeon tightly pulled his bottom lip between his set of locked teeth, breathing ragged through his flared nose.

Your dirty little comments didn’t help his enlarging erection, and he had to hold on for dear life so that he wouldn’t bust in your warm mouth right at that second, heavy cock jerking whilst the tip of his dick remained still even as your soft fucking lips hugged around his bulging tip.

“Shit, gotta see your face—”

Jungkook eagerly pushed the covers that sat above his lower body and your head aside to properly look at just that.

You.

Your tits sure had a way of leaving him in a trance, especially now that they hovered so close to his dick, dangling right above his angry shaft as your upper body arched forward for his own satisfaction.

“Fuck, you look so goddamn pretty with my fat cock in your mouth, baby.” Jungkook extended his tatted arm to comb through your tangled hair with his fingers, jaw slack, yet tense whilst he heavily stared down at you.

“Your mouth..” Jungkook began to grind his hips into your mouth, just enough, giving you a little push as he watched how a small part of him disappeared between your stretched lips. “It’s like it was made just for you to get me off, huh? Pretty little fuckin’ thing, you’re so fucking hot— hmph..”

The soft graze on the your hair soon turned more rough, Jungkook’s palm pressed flat over the top of your head as his fingers bunched a handful of your hair into his stubborn grip, propping himself up on his elbow to watch you from a closer perspective, cockily thrusting his flexed thighs forward, basically throwing his hard dick in your face.

“You gonna suck my dick real good or what?” Jungkook licked over his lips, a sarcastic half-smile taking its shameless form, “It’s what best friends do, right? Go on, I know that little pussy’s probably wet just thinking about it..”

The bastard was taunting you.

Here you were, all good and compliant for him, and he was mocking you?

‘This is exactly what best friends do’ is what you kept telling yourself to stop overthinking, but Jungkook’s words alone hit right at your core, which you had no doubt your slick was dripping over his knees by now.

You let out a muffled groan each time he thrusted his dick into your mouth, bruising the back of your throat repeatedly as your head moved in sync to his thrusts. You whimpered around him, gradually picking up the pace at your own accord until you were choking at how thick and heavy he was. Jungkook’s dick filled your throat completely, leaving little-to-no room for you to take a breath.

But that’s how you liked it.

If it wasn’t already obvious by the low chords of his moans Jungkook was absolutely losing his sanity. How could he not when you were lewdly slurping and sucking on his poor cock like it was your final meal.

Fuck, not to mention how fuckin’ gorgeous you looked while doing it, thanks to that slightly-dazed look in your teary eyes from being freshly awake and already on the job. Jungkook thought nothing could beat him getting off to the image of you in a pair of your lame glasses, but this filthy view made him rethink everything..

Your tongue lapped at the underside of his length, lips sucking around him desperately as you stared up at him through your lashes, feigning innocence, but you were far from it. No matter how innocent you tried to look, no matter how much you batted your eyelashes at him, you were still straddling Jungkook’s legs with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, and nothing would change that.

It was quite demeaning, to say the least, but you had no intention of stopping.

Jungkook regretted not having done this— he glanced down at you between his muscular legs before throwing his head against the pillow that’d been scattered with the dark threads of his tousled bed hair, hand resuming to firmly push you all the way down his proudly-standing shaft— sooner, and he was 100% sure that you were able to read his blurry thoughts, sucking him off unbelievably fast and with want.

He was surprised he lasted this long.

Your jaw was aching and the buildup of saliva was dripping down the base of his cock, acting as the perfect lube and allowing him to slip in and out of the warmth of your mouth with ease.

The visual of Jungkook up ahead played as motivation for you, urging you to take his cock deeper down your throat, tightening around him as you stilled; pinching your eyes shut to stop your tears from running.

You were drooling all over his cock, creating a thick, slobbery puddle of spit at the base, and when you pulled out with a choked gasp, those same long, thick strings landed on your chest, painting over your soft tits. You didn’t care how messy thing were getting; all you cared about was pleasing your best friend.

“A-ahh.. baby, so good, what a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he audibly hissed through his clenched teeth, grinding his hips into your fucked out mouth whilst he held your head in place at his base, covered in a shitload amount of slobber and precum.

“Good girls like being naughty and suckin’ cock? Good to know— fuck, fuck,” Jungkook was surprised his lower lip didn’t start to bleed from how hard he’d been biting on it, jaw tense and the taut skin around his brows sticky as they knitted together to fuck sloppily into your mouth with want, ass practically pushing off the mattress to hit the back of your throat every time, not one miss.

Breathing heavily, lips swollen, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, you stared straight at him, not bothering to look down when you replaced your mouth with your hand, now pumping his cock between your fist and paying extra attention to his leaking tip.

Jungkook hated getting cut off in the middle of some good head just as much as the next guy, but he was forced to stop using you when you levelled yourself up to him, his hard cock squeezed within your fisted hand whilst the wettest, most dirtiest sounds of you pumping his soaked length quickly began to be too much. It also didn’t help that the same tits Jungkook drooled over before, were now dangling in front of his face.

Like bait.

You pressed down lightly on Jungkook’s abdomen with your free hand, using him as leverage to lean over his body so your glistening tits were thrown in his face. “Mouth made just for you..” you start to pick up the pace of your wrists, stooping your gaze down to meet his. “All yours, Koo.. Wanna be stuffed full of your cock everyday,” you mutter softly, leaning down to ghost your swollen lips over his own. “Will you do that for me?”

Jungkook flipped the script and flipped you both over just as quickly, manhandling you and forcibly pulling your hips upright to balance your ass up in the air as he supported himself on his knees behind you.

“Oh—” you assumed Jungkook was still pretty tired, so when he flipped you over onto all fours, ass up in the air, you were taken by surprise. So much for wanting to take the lead, but it was safe to say you had seen him become easily swayed by your actions enough to tease him about it later on. Unfortunately, Jungkook had just as much (if not more) to tease you about.

His needy were hands taking a moment to feel around each cheek seconds before spreading them apart to spit on your cunt that naughtily peeked from between.

“Oh yeah?” The man messily spread his saliva over your glistening lips and teased the slick between them with his middle and index finger, running them up and down the soaked cut of your pussy whilst he leaned over to where your head was pressed against the pillow, “Wanna feel me all up in your guts ‘till I come inside you?”

The inaudible gasp you let out from the exposure of your weeping cunt being spread apart to wits end and the way your body would jolt as soon as his thick strings of saliva landed harshly against your soaking heat, left you buckling before him.

“Shit, Jungkook..” your voice fell weak, strained almost, as you basked in his thick digits. With your palms propped up in front of you, you looked back at him over your shoulder, taking notice of the ragged expression on his face, and honestly, it was the hottest thing ever; watching his palm move at such a pace. From the glistening coating of arousal over his hand, it was obvious it was all your doing.

Jungkook squeezed your sex in his hand, beginning to rub you with the heel of his palm as he whispered in your ear, “Not now, though, gotta keep you wanting more.”

Your body was acting out on its own; spine arching seamlessly and ass pushing back towards him for more, practically begging him to fuck you right then and there.

Jungkook may lack important knowledge on some topics, but on ways to keep girls coming back? He knew what to do. You mentioned it yourself; you wanted to be stuffed full of his cock everyday. Jungkook would be damned if he didn’t fit a messy blowjob and fucking you dumb into his schedule for today.

Two separate things, for two separate occasions.

“Beg to get dicked down later and I’ll see if I feel like it, princess.”

“That’s not fair— hey!”

Once again, he flipped you over to lay on your back and stare right into her eyes, a hint of satisfaction dancing behind his own before diving in to eagerly kiss around the skin of your neck, collarbones, shoulders, and lastly tits, burying his face into them while his tongue lapped over your nipple, one hand grasping the other like a stress ball.

It didn’t matter if what he was doing was deemed fair or not. Being friends with you for so long meant Jungkook knew when you were pulling whines out of her ass for some attention from him.

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook pulled away to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, his hand squeezing between your bodies to speedily rub at your pussy, studying your shifting expression from his close perspective as he slipped his middle finger inside you, sliding it in and out of you for a few seconds whilst his shoulder pressed down further on your leg, gifting himself more access. He was

After pulling his teasing finger from your throbbing cunt for good, he gathered some of your trickling arousal onto his palm and raised the same hand to lather your tits with a thick layer of it, making the pair glisten even more under the sunlight that peeked through your blinds.

With one final look, Jungkook spat on your nipple for good measure and dug in, sucking and flicking the erect bud with the tip of his tongue whilst staring up at you with hooded eyes and rosy cheeks, engulfing your tit into his warm mouth as he circled your nipple with his wet tongue before softly nibbling on it.

His three fingers continued scissoring inside you as the pad of his thumb toyed with your clit, practically abusing your poor cunt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck..” you whimper, spine arching and lifting off the mattress and inevitably ushering your hips towards him. His middle finger was protruding between your soft walls, over and over again, like a never-ending cycle.

Every heavy breath you took triggered your walls to tighten around his digits, greedily pulling his middle finger further inside and if that wasn’t too much for you to handle, the added pleasure of his tongue lapping at her sensitive nipples, latching onto you with no room to escape, it was driving you crazy.

“Pretty girl, my pretty, good girl,” Jungkook’s wet lips rested agape as he ghosted his chin over your tit, mouth blowing hot air against your nipple the more he spewed out dirty praises for you to completely soak over on his working hand, “Fuck, you’re so tight ‘n wet, huh? Wettest pussy I’ve ever fucking felt— God..”

He looked down from your twisted face to your cunt that pulled in his curling fingers, tongue jabbing the side of his cheek in concentration whilst watching himself slip past your lower lips time and time again, thumb mercilessly rubbing and applying pressure over your swollen clit.

Your completely fucked out eyes settled before the man in front of you. Your sight was a little hazy, but you never missed the way he pleasured you with his blown out eyes that were partly shielded by the loose strands of his hair.

“I’ll fuck you later if you’re good, but now it’s my turn.”

The man didn’t elaborate further and detached himself from you, just for a moment, letting your leg drop to your side before he hovered his ripped body over you with both knees at your sides, intensely looking down at you whilst ‘straddling’ over you and advancing forward, smugly pumping his cock a few times above your flustered face with the remnants of your slick.

Oh, he was still getting off to a blowjob. Just…with a twist or two.

Jungkook toyed and squeezed the flesh of your tits with his rough palms for another moment before lowering himself just enough, holding his cock at the base and gently tapping at the skin of your glistening breasts, then nudging at your plush lips with the tip of his dick, as if asking for entrance but before you could grant him permission, he was already on his next move.

He guided his thick shaft between the valley of your breasts and held both your hands, urging you to grab your own breasts and tightly squeeze his cock between them, brows furrowing as he held back the impulse to groan right there and then.

With your mouth forced open, tongue hanging out like a desperate puppy and head thrown back against the pillow, you’d lap your tongue over the throbbing head of his cock, each lick lasting a little longer than the other as Jungkook drove himself between the valley of your breasts. Your hold on your tits would tighten around him, so as to not have him accidentally slip out during the last minute whilst pinching your sensitive nipples between your fingers.

“Tell me you’re still my best friend after this,” your eyes trains themselves on him, almost as if you were begging him to just say it for your own peace of mind. There was no way they could stay as ‘just best friends’, not when you wanted nothing more than for him to paint your tits white.. And maybe your face if he had good aim, but let’s be real; someone like Jungkook, there was no doubt his aim would be impeccable.

With his index finger curled under your chin, Jungkook forced his thumb inside your mouth to part your lips, and when there was enough room, he pushed the blushing head of his cock inside, tilting his head back as he began to gently drive his hips forward, his knuckles blown white from gripping the headboard so hard.

“I’m still your… fuck… goddamn best friend—!” It was safe to say Jungkook wasn’t in the clearest headspace to properly reevaluate his empty words, much more interested in how his dick went inside your mouth, rather than his conscience telling him that fucking like wild rabbits with a ‘best friend’ wasn’t normal.

You never missed the chance to bat your pretty lashes up at him, and the sight couldn’t get any better when his bulging tip would repeatedly disappear between the space of your swollen lips, leaving your mouth again with a sheer, slick coating of saliva and precum; the strings connecting your bottom lip to his angry head, like an unbreakable bond.

Whenever you got the chance, you’d land a couple kisses over his leaking tip before enveloping your bottom lip between your teeth to sport a look of innocence. Non-existent, but you knew it drove Jungkook wild.

“Need you to fuck my throat, Koo..” you whine, swallowing thickly to fill the vast emptiness in your throat. Your mouth falls open to wrap around as much of him as you could as his hips pushed towards your chest. The mess of drool seeping down your chin only seemed to multiply out of hunger, “A good best friend would never say no,” you pout, swollen bottom lip on show to further patronise the male.

It wasn’t easy to tend to yourself with both hands currently in use, which explained the constant squeezing around Jungkook’s legs in hopes it would ease the incessant throbbing at your core. It didn’t do much, but the skin on skin contact with him left you whimpering for more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby,” The way his shaft rapidly stroked itself between your breasts had him seeing stars, vision slightly uncentered but his thrusts never faltered, they never did, even if he felt like he was on the verge of collapsing because of how amazing you felt.

“Shit, ‘m gonna come soon, c’mere..”

Realizing that you also needed a way to get off, he intentionally wedged his knee between your legs so that you could get off on him, and his free hand hoisted you up just enough for your shoulders to support themselves against it, one hand sneaking around to clasp over the back of your head to lock you in place.

Jungkook began to fuck into your mouth mercilessly, grunting and cursing under his heavy breaths as he fucked your throat like you so kindly asked of him, the mattress rattling from the power in his movements.

“I’m so fuckin’ close— fuck me..!”

The sounds of you gagging around him as he drilled his dick between your lips and Jungkook’s vocalness were all you could hear. His words only seemed to encourage you; lips wrapping tightly around his cock and then allowing him to freely fuck your throat with ease. His grip on your scalp painful, but that didn’t matter.

Not to you.

All that mattered was your best friend.

Whenever Jungkook would retract his hips away from your face, he’d leave a flimsy mess of precum and saliva, which only got bigger when he’d thrust into your mouth again without giving you the chance to take a proper breath. It explained the raid of moans that were all muffled around him and even then, you kept going; lapping your tongue around every vein of his cock before drawing him towards you, feeling his dick throb incessantly and indicating he was close.

Jungkook’s firm grip on your head helped to push your lips further down the base of his length, effectively stilling once your nose hit his vline, letting your throat clench around him as he pulsated within the warmth of your mouth.

You looked up at him with heavy eyelids and cheeks hollowed around him, blinking slowly and on the verge of passing out on him.

What did it mean when the head game was so good, that even Jeon Jungkook was, at first, clueless to his own orgasm as he never once stopped drilling his body forward with earnest drive, heavy balls continuously slapping against your slobbered chin only to halt when a set amount of his cum trickled past your loose mouth, painting the lower part of your face in a film of his load.

“Fuck you look so pretty like this..”

Pleased but not fully, Jungkook pulled his still-pulsating cock from your mouth that was full of him. You let out a much needed gasp, your mouth hanging open and breathing heavily just to show him the mess he’d made inside. He jerked himself off a couple times above your crimson face whilst sporting a smug grin, head dropping forward and veiling his low groans when he stilled once again, spurts of his cum linked together in long ropes and spilling over your delicate features, mostly over your nose and cheeks.

You swallowed every drop he spilled down your throat before bringing your thumb up to your face, swiping at every last bit of white splayed over your cheeks and the tip of your nose and slipping your thumb into your mouth, sucking it clean with a very satisfactory hum.

Once Jungkook regained full control of himself or at least enough, he properly looked down at you with a lazy, worn out smile, finally easing his hold on the back of your head, “You look even prettier like this; all covered in my cum like a good girl. Fuck, you did good.”

Fatigue slowly hugged over his tired limbs and he found himself dropping his weight onto to the mattress, arms crossed behind his head as he took the time to let his chest settle after every inhale.

You always wore him out.

You felt the mattress dip beside you as you released a heavy sigh, finally being able to relax as you laid there on your back, staring up at the ceiling, but that didn’t last long. “Fuck.. I need a shower,” you groan, propping yourself up on your palms as you looked over at the very tired Jungkook beside you. To think you almost thought you were in love with him when you woke up… that was crazy. Actually, it still seemed like a possibility, but you couldn’t think straight feeling all icky and unclean.

If you went in the shower now, would he leave a note on your desk and leave again?

You didn’t want that. Even though it was his way of being considerate, it was the bare minimum.

But you shouldn’t care.

You threw the duvet over your front and forced yourself off the bed, pilling the excess around your body and leaving Jungkook on the bed completely naked with his dick out. You don’t spare him a glance, worried you may accidentally get distracted by the sight of him and if he caught you, you would never live it down.

“I’ll be in the shower,” you say dismissively, waving him off and scurrying out of your bedroom to lock yourself in the bathroom.

aiw taglist: @here4btsfics @ninablue @petalsofink @zealouslightcookiebasketball @jjksnoonamess @nadzzzblog @jossabelle88 perm taglist: @aliceaflor5-blog @kookiecrumb @jjkeverlast @prettyghost @kooliv @koobsessed @gimmethatagustd @pb-n-juju @aslias17 @ririlovesangst @kootonins @taehyungseggs

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#sxtaep #jeon jungkook #aiw #all i want #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #kpop imagines #kpop smut #jungkook fic

2K notes · View notes

rise-my-angel · 2 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

39 - Great Wolves of White Mists

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 15.9k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, smut, oral (f receiving), exhibitionism, p in v, threats of sexual violence

Notes: Lots of world building going on behind the scenes, but I assure you everything does come together logically when we're ready. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Words had continued to reach you long after you assumed much communication would have ceased to be. Yet, they still came, and you still heard whispers that disturbed you beyond what you were willing to speak so freely on. What were you to make of them on your own, let alone bring them to his attention when you were not sure? He knew it bothered you, but without any confirmation all there was to do was speculate about the unknown.

You knew little about that part of the world, though that was the case for many. Asshai was the furthest east most maesters knew anything substantial about, and it sounded like a place that draws in those looking to shed what good in them remained. Darkness and shadow binders, old powers speaking of magic that was unnatural in the world you knew. And the red woman was said to be from there, yet here she had sat atop her horse beside your father as if she had any right.

Speaking as if he was this great warrior, born amidst salt and smoke. Her fire god's chosen, and yet you only saw a man. A just man, a leader and a King, but like the husband at your side, Stannis Baratheon was still only a man. Heroes of such tales were best left in the books you had long since passed onto Shireen's dutiful imagination. In the world you knew, good men were rare to come by, and most seemed to die before they had a chance to be spun into such heroes.

Your father had a witch at her side, but no magic of any power from her would have you trade away standing with only your love and honour at Robb Stark's side.

And yet, it was that stance which your father took issue with. Demeaning you in front of your men and your King, as if a child needing scolding. Claiming you betrayed your duty at his side, when he had the audacity to bring a woman such as her to this meeting. Robb did not fight with magic tricks and dishonour, he fought the same bloody battles which his men did beacuse that was the leader which found worship from his people.

Stannis's men were loyal to him, but they worshipped the fires of a god only one woman spoke of in these lands. You felt that biting rage inside, heart beating harsh enough it hurt against your chest as your eyes sat steadfast in a glare towards him. You made your choice, and so did he. But you did not stand there and berate him for his choices, for what you heard this woman told him to do. But he thought he had the right to tell you that it was not Robb's side you belonged at.

You only belonged in one place, and it was with him. Your destiny was not your fathers choice anymore, your destiny was with the future you and Robb were fighting for together. Sacrificing the life you should be forming in your home where you both belong, to do what needed to be done.

Stannis spoke it with such an even tone, but only you knew what it spoke of. It was an irritation that you dared speak against him in front of everyone when you never dared defy his command before. “You truly think yourself so highly, that you can deny your duty as my daughter, that you can choose your destiny now?”

Your lungs struggled to breath you moved so little, but the sound did not appear all dissimilar coming from beside you. Teeth almost bared as he controlled what little he could of his possessiveness, and one you suspected Robb almost did not care to hide from your father. “She is my wife, your grace. My Queen. Which means her destiny lies with me.”

Caring not for if he tried to argue against it, he did not know. Your father married you to the North without ever even bothering to be there to hand you over himself, but now he expected you to betray the husband he chose for you? Not even in a chance of your existence, would you have gone to your father instead of Robb. There hadn't even been a thought the day you escaped.

You had a home and a family and a duty, and Robb Stark was all three within your life and heart.

The red woman however, beckoned your father to let her speak. Capturing your attention as the blood inside you felt too cold against the terrible red she represented. You would rather not have approached her, but she did not pose a threat. Not in this fashion. You suspected her danger lay in what persuasion her words held within the manipulated minds of men. Still, she made her try to entice you.

“I have seen your fate, a destiny showed to me in the flames, princess.”

Eyes flickering to Robb, he did not wish for you to approach her but as you did, sensed no physical threat towards you from the woman on her own. Only a blur in the side of your vision did a large grey figure stalk around the perimeter of where you all stood, Grey Wind prowling forward in watch and guard. A direwolf always ready to attack, just as The Young Wolf behind you now.

Your horse approached hers, and the chilling in your blood only grew and grew until sights and sounds of ice and cold flashed. She could not see them, she was only one to serve fire, but it was as if she looked to you with a knowing you did not like. Not even Robb knew of the kind of dreams you were truly having at night, but you did not want this woman pretending as if she had a clue.

Eyes so blue they shined like terrifying crystals were not haunting her dreams, only yours.

Yet she sensed something. “Do you believe in the old powers?”

Once, you would not have been sure. Memories of a flame long gone, memories of nightmares only as a child on an isolated island, you lived most a life in the world before you. Men only made of flesh and bone, and the mystery of the world long passed. But now? Now you knew for one reason or the other, you and Robb no longer could be so sure of what you once thought impossible. But none of that was what came out of your mouth.

Your own tone as even and matching as what came out of your fathers. “I’ve been told you are from Asshai, Lady Melisandre. I imagine preaching such a foreign religion to the people includes a lot of convincing people of the old powers. Most would think that isn’t an easy task, and yet here you stand so close by my fathers side.”

She was quiet as she stared at you, and you could only be confident she knew nothing of the freezing dreams of a crying infant in the night you had. There were other dreams, but that was the one you saw over and over, that was the one that left you without telling a soul. A nightmare shouldn't scare you the way that one did.

Her own intentions did not match what you and Robb came here for. Whatever she wanted, was not what you and Robb were spending years fighting for. Her tone confident as it was aggravating to listen to it's words attached. “The King has seen the truth in flames shown by that of the Lord of Light. He is his chosen, a warrior born amidst salt and smoke. The red comet signalling a rebirth of power that will lead him to his true destiny. One that I have seen you in, princess.” But it wasn't red in your dreams, not even close.

Watching her turn to Robb, you could have knocked her off her horse then and there for even thinking she had the right to try and sway him to her poison. Something about her put you on a blades edge of tensity. “The princess only has one destiny, your grace. You are not so far away from that fate.”

Something crawled under your skin, and in an instant it was as if you moved your horse without realizing it. Closer back to Robb's side in more proximity then you had even before. You wanted to be nowhere near this womans words as she spoke. But her eyes found yours, and what they spoke was something you didn't comprehend.

“Your fate does not lie here, princess. The Lord has shown me, you are destined to stand behind your father. The coming of a great war and you will only find your fate there. With your love, with the heart of your Great Wolf at your side, you will stand prosperous in such battles to come. A future written for you already, princess. Your Great Wolf to stand with you and your children together only if you accept the truth that your fate lies behind that of the Lord’s chosen.”

Life for her was found in flames, but yours was frozen in ice and snow like that of the very wolf at your side she spoke of. Seeing you in her lies was one thing, you would do much to keep Robb out of whatever her sights in red showed her, though.

Only, Robb was gone. Dead and lost in the Riverlands and the future in your womb too was just as butchered as what ended you both together. The red woman tried to manipulate you by saying your Great Wolf would stand with you, with your children, and yet you three all died in one night soaked in the others blood.

Too often you still wished you ended her that day you both stood at the top of the Wall.

There used to be a point in his life where there weren't many memories which stuck out so heavily in his mind. His life was one day to the next and never quite with any importance that should be cared about. He didn't even remember his mother, all he could ever come up with was that she had pretty yellow hair and a high, lovely voice to which she would sing to him in.

She died when he was little, he didn't even remember how he came into Tobho Mott's care, but he became his apprentice. Perhaps if he had any ambition to do something else or leave, he'd have taken a thought of how he was sold off as if a slave trade, but he didn't.

In those days, there was very little to stand out in Gendry's life. That was until one strange day when the Hand of the King came to see his master. Though, it wasn't a memory that stuck out much in the moment. No, it was the things which came after. The memory of Lord Stannis with a narrow eyed glare as he said nothing but watched him as Lord Arryn was the one asking all of the questions.

Then Lord Arryn died, and the next Hand of the King, Lord Stark came to ask the same questions only this time he had Lord Stannis's daughter working beside him instead.

He recalled you doing the same, narrow sharp eyes watching him close, but unlike your father you took the time to speak to him at the least. You had been stern and short with him, but he had the feeling now it was simply your temperament in general instead of the previous Baratheon's ire. Asking about his mother. Then you had a strange look, stepping a bit closer as you told him “Look at me,” and parting without another word. He could recall the passing thought as he returned to his work, that if he didn't know any better he'd have thought you were his twin.

That encounter was strange yet, but it wasn't until the events occurring with the red woman, did Gendry finally recall that day as you looked at him and what exactly the shock was you felt. Well, he recalled two faces he couldn't stop seeing what one was for very different reasons.

With not a clue what happened to her for years, or what became of her the moment they parted ways, all Gendry could think of in those days was how angry Arya was for what they had done. He had Beric Dondarrian agree to keep him on as one of them, only for a beautiful woman all in red come and take him away in exchange for gold. Found a purpose perhaps, and maybe just one person who he could care about, only to be sold off like a slave once more.

“You are more than they can ever be. They're just foot soldiers in the great war. You will make kings rise and fall.” Was what she said to him. Gendry had not a clue what that meant, but he didn't care. He was being sold off like cattle to a strange woman and for years, he had thought he'd never seen Arya again. Not a clue if she was safe, alive, what happened to her or where she could have gone and it still made him upset.

The first time he found someone genuine who he actually cared about. She was a huge pain in his ass, there was no doubt about it but he liked that about her. She didn't know when to not say something like a smart ass, was quick to take care of others or defend those weaker and smaller then her even against soldiers. Once Arya cared about you, she'd protect you. Except for that last time and he used to wonder if she thought he was dead like he worried she was.

But he hadn't been given that chance to think on it. He had been told his father was a King, the King. Robert Baratheon was said to be his father and as he finally was taken to Dragonstone did he see the man once more. Saw Stannis Baratheon and he realized what your look had meant.

Stannis looked unimpressed, whereas you had looked shocked. And you looked shocked, because he was right. Well, not exactly. It wasn't twins you were, but you were cousins. It all felt unusual to him, being dragged here in a cage, being brought to Stannis Baratheon who was waging wars against many, including you. He knew a bit about you without realizing much of it, you had been married to Arya's oldest brother.

Robb Stark was King in the North, but Gendry didn't feel like he belonged anywhere in these people's lives of royalty. But that was because he didn't. It was nothing more then a trick, not knowing if it was clever or cruel. The red woman knew, sensing his inexperience and played perfectly into such a tactic. Had all of the right words, knew the right way to look at him and knew how little to wear and when to take that little amount off to make him pliable enough to not have much in him to protest.

Then she tied him up. And leeched blood from his skin as the man he then knew was his uncle came in with another. He was left to suffer there as if he meant nothing and he felt as such, used and tricked and he hated that this was the only family he had properly met. If his life depended on it, Gendry couldn't say what even it was they discussed in that room. Names passed around as the leeches filled with his blood were tossed into the burning brazier.

What Arya had described of you sounded nothing like the people your father surrounded himself with, with the uncaring dismay as if he was nothing. A mix of highborn and lowborn and all the lowborn side of him did was make him someone to be tossed away. That wasn't the way Arya made you seem, and the longer he was on Dragonstone the more he felt as if you were the enemy to Stannis Baratheon as well.

Gendry couldn't understand what kind of people his true family were, or why he at all thought he would fit into it when there was nothing but darkness and fire around it. Ultimately it was Ser Davos who enlightened him on some truths he couldn't have known. Rumours of prophecies and visions and he hated all of it. He didn't care about any of it.

He had seen Beric Dondarrian come back from death and all he recalled of the man was that he sold him to these people for gold just like everyone else. Whatever this magic in his blood was meant nothing if it's only use was to make others suffer for it.

“I met her once, in King's Landing.” The two men had been leaning against his cell bars on opposite sides as they spoke quietly. “Her and Lord Stark came to see me, asking what Lord Arryn wanted to know about me. Think maybe it took her a minute, two the most to figure out we were related. Didn't realize why she looked shocked by it until now.”

Davos huffed a laugh, “I see why, put you two side by side and I'd think you were twins. And I know if she heard what her father was doing to you, she'd be furious, her and Robb Stark both. Tried convincing Stannis to make peace, do the right thing, fight by each others side but he turned their offer down and now I have no clue how he think she'll come back to him this way.”

Arya had tried to tell him coming with her to find Robb Stark, her brother, was a good idea and maybe Gendry should've believed her when he had the chance. Because the day Ser Davos came to help him escape the island he realized what the true extent of plans for him were, and he couldn't imagine Arya trying to convince him for someone anything close to whatever this was.

So he escaped to King's Landing, only to find little for him there either. Less then little and nothing but hints of a life he would never know. His purpose wasn't on Dragonstone or in King's Landing so where in seven hells could it be?

For a while, Gendry wondered if he made the wrong call trying to figure it out on his own. Most of his life the new places he found were no control of his, sold to Tobho Mott, sold to the Nights Watch, sold to Stannis Baratheon and the red woman. But it had been the first time he chose his own path and had yet to have it knock him back for it.

If you asked him now, he would be honest and say he had no clue why he reached out to you. He was alone and had no one. He couldn't stand being in Kings Landing after knowing the truth, knowing that the remaining royal family there had wanted him dead. Living in the shadow of a father he never knew and would never live anywhere near as in luxury of.

The rest of the country was poor, hungry, torn apart from years of war but Gendry had one skill that was not exclusive to one place. So he found work wherever he could, usually around port cities as if he was too paranoid to stay too long in case someone recognized who he looked like. For the first time he realized he had to forge his own path of his own accord.

Learning that you were alive, he thought maybe he was crazy, but he'd try it anyways. He had asked around where he could get work up North until he was offered a spot on a ship heading for Barrowton and it was as far as he was going to get on his own. Writing to you made him feel like an idiot. If you were dead and the rumours were all a lie, he'd be gullible. If you were alive but didn't actually care, he'd look pathetic.

But again, he had nothing else left. So he wrote to you as discreet as he could manage, and for almost two months he spent his days the exact same way. Finding himself a usual patron of one specific tavern knowing it was the only place he described. Eventually he realized what an idiot he really was, for thinking a royal would care about any of this.

Until he walked into the tavern one day, and saw you and a young boy trying to blend in as much as possible. Reuniting with Arya however, that somehow was stranger then meeting you properly that day. Though, were he honest, it may be due in part to the way Aryas older brother would watch him when they'd interact. From what you told Gendry about Robert Baratheon, Gendry had not walked into Winterfell with his fathers reputation on his side.

He hadn't told the truth, few knew. He didn't want people to know. No good ever came of questions from highborns and he certainly didn't want people looking at him as if being Robert Baratheons son meant a damn thing. The only thing he could say however, was how much he was grateful in which that you found it incredibly easy to refuse to ever divulge his secret.

More then once he'd hear Arya try to get it out of you, and she was not quiet about doing so. Gendry was just lucky Winterfell was busy enough his eavesdropping was never noticed by her.

“I swear you are the only one who would be annoyed at not having more to do.”

You wished to roll your eyes, and they looked flat enough at Arya that she got the concept without needing a follow through on the action. If Jon was keeping you out of things before, he was certainly doing it more now. It had been over a week still since that dream, and yet he seemed to be finding new ways at forcing you to not lift a finger. “Pleasure to meet you for the first time.”

It was Arya's turn to let her face fall flat, and your smirk came about easier then her one to hide. As you worked with her out there, you were at least grateful you were stronger then her, everytime she'd try and do more heavy lifting then you, you'd be able to yank it from her. As if both of you were children but vying for the place of doing more work.

Sighing out, she moved beside you, accepting that you were going to at least share the manual labour on this occasion. “Why are you asking me and not him?”

Tilting your head to the side as you glanced at her pointedly. “Beacuse you still aren't good at not knowing when to stop talking, and Jon is an expert at it.” You knew that was a point you had her on, everytime you asked Jon what he seemed to find his mind so preoccupied with the past day or so, he would give no answer and change the subject with ease.

He knew that you knew he was avoiding the answer, but you didn't know why.

Maybe it would annoy you more if you were worried it was something you couldn't trust him for, but it was certainly more he was keeping you out of the loop of something he assumed may weigh down on you. In a strange way, it almost seemed to remind you of many years ago.

Keeping you busy and distracted with different tasks in Kings Landing so you did not know what it was your father and Jon Arryn were looking into. Yet this time it was a different Jon who was doing the work elsewhere and using Arya directly to keep you distracted instead of piling more work upon your desk.

Looking over to you, Aryas eyes squinted in thought. “How about we make a trade?” Your brows raised in question, and her answer was just as unfeasible as you thought. “I'll tell you what Jon is doing, and you tell me how you and Gendry know each other.” Face falling more flat, were such a feat even possible, Arya's shoulders dropped as did her tone, only adding an annoyed bit of a whine that made you amused in your chest. “Come on, he won't tell me and neither will you. He didn't know I was in the North, you went to Barrowton to find him, clearly you both know each other for something and don't just say you met in Kings Landing. That's not a real answer.”

Shaking your head, you turned to her, arms crossing over your chest. “Gendry won't tell you?” She shook her head no, and the lack of change in your expression annoyed her on you just as it did when Gendry gave her an identical look. “Then that is the end of that. I'm not here to share other people's secrets Arya.”

“So it's a secret then?” Your look got even more narrow, and she didn't back down. “What is with you two? You're both just as stubborn as each other, no wonder you both get on.” If you weren't so good at keeping it all very stone faced, you would have laughed. So close she was sometimes, but yet not even anywhere near finding the answer on her own.

Not that the answer was something any had reason to guess out of nowhere.

The unfortunate part, was that in your steadfast nature to take care of things for Jon anyways did you come across the thing he hadn't intended for you to know. He didn't hide things from you, not that you knew but this seemed like you came across a raven scroll in the middle of something you knew nothing about. The sigil was clear, bordered with runes and black studs within the middle of it, you knew were it not in wax it would be bronze in colour.

Jon was in the middle of a correspondence with Ser Yohn Royce of the Vale.

On it's face that seemed strange but not out of the question impossible. He knew Ned Stark during his time in the Eyrie as a ward, it wasn't as if there was nothing to connect there, but still you sat there looking over words you could read and yet did not quite understand. They clearly had been going back and forth about something for a bit of time now, and seemed to be very careful in choice of words.

Nothing about the Vale stood out to you, nothing really told you why Jon had any business there considering it's lack of effort in the war. Then again, you also seemed to be the one without knowledge of the realm anymore, and so you felt uncharacteristically stupid. Insecurity told you he was keeping things from you beacuse he thought you couldn't handle it, even though you knew that voice wasn't fair it still spoke loud as you sorted through other things for him.

Eyes trailing back to that letter, speaking about things you weren't privy to nor did it seem Jon wanted you to be. You had no right to bring up questions about keeping secrets, not a single right. But you also weren't quite sure what it was you were uneasy over. Was it really that Jon was keeping a secret, or was it that you didn't seem to be anywhere near keeping up with how much was spinning in the world around you that bothered you.

Or, more realistically the more you thought on it in the quiet that afternoon, maybe it was the wonder that bothered you the most, if you were being kept so out of the loop beacuse Jon didn't think you could handle it. How much worse at standing by a Kings side have you gotten that Jon of all people didn't think you could handle something like this anymore?

With night falling over Winterfell, you were far too in your head to notice how obvious you were being, despite trying otherwise. Standing by the window in his chambers, your attention was busy trying to stitch something of his up. Back to him, your head rose just a slightly inch at the sound of the door but your heart beat irregular in your chest, so you doubled down on keeping your eyes on what as right in front of you.

If you not turning to really look at him wasn't obvious enough, Jon knew right away something was wrong considering how you didn't move to him whatsoever. It was always a routine, you went to him to help take off the heaviest of layers and Jon playfully protested that he never gets to do the same, considering you were normally dressed down by that point. But you didn't move to him or look, and it wasn't until you caught sight of him at the corner of your eye did you realize he even was that close.

Looking over what you had organized, normally a smirk falling a tinge on his lips at how diligent you went through and sorted by importance, urgency, order, everything just like your own work but just in the right way you knew Jons mind needed it to be laid out. Instead, his eyes were wide, shining bright with something soft but worried as he flickered his gaze between his desk and you.

His own voice low and rasping as he tried to settle his own unease as to not set you off the edge further, “Anything I need to know about?” Your face twisted, trying to remain neutral but it took that effort to look normal in the first place rather then such an expression being a fixed position.

Your voice murmuring quiet gave it away perfectly. “Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow.” It wasn't angry, worried, on edge. It was a soft tone, held back akin to a whisper. A tone Jon knew too well, was when you were trying to hide something insecure. Something upset inside your mind. Since finding each other again, Jon was all too knowledgeable about when you tried to hide yourself like that from him.

His head rose, tilting as if to implore you to look over at him but you were stubborn he knew, and you were not willing to look in case he was disappointed in you. The thought made your hands work faster, coming close to pricking the skin and your jaw tensing trying to keep the choking feeling from rising in your throat. The gentle voice calling your name only making that choking feeling skip past your mouth and burrow itself right into the back of your eyes in a sting.

Head barley turning to the side to show you were listening but his warmth enveloped your back before you could sense where he was. For once, you fought between tensing and relaxing into him, as he leaned over your shoulder, resting the side of his head against yours as his hands ran down your upper arms gently. “Can you put that down for me?”

Your eyes flickering up to the night outside before sitting the leather and stitching on the open window sill. Another sign to easy for him to spot, you didn't go to gently find something of his hand or person to wrap around your front, didn't move to take advantage of how close he was to hold him. You knew he knew and he knew it too. You weren't very good at hiding this, never with him.

What were you to say? Bring up that he was keeping a secret, that would be the most hypocritical thing you would ever say or do in your life. Instead your eyes kept firm on the outside. The sky was clear, black with just a crescent moon adorning it. You could feel him leaning more to look over your shoulder, one hand leaving your arm to wrap around your stomach. Pulling you back into his chest more and still you didn't gently grasp his hand or wrist.

Jon of course, found the most blunt approach. “If you don't want to tell me what's wrong, at least tell me what I can do to make it better.” Gods, you hated how hard he made things. You wanted him to not care and this silence could continue beacuse he didn't notice. Sometimes being in love with such an attentive man was inconvenient to your insecurities.

Mumbling out, “Everything is fine.” You both knew Jon didn't believe that. Your hands itched to grab him, reach back and seek Jons touch out somewhere but your mind was too much a coward.

“You're not. I know when somethings upsetting you.” The words didn't find themselves though, you didn't want it to start a problem. You didn't want to pester him, interrogate him. You didn't want to act as if you were entitled to everything just beacuse he was kind enough to take pity and marry you. Only before you could get a lie from your lips, Jon found the roots of it himself rather quickly. “I'm not trying to keep secrets from you.”

If you could shrug in his hold you would have, eyes drifting more to the side attempting to feel anything but the uncomfortable you did. “It's alright. I understand you don't want me getting in the way.” Jon lowly said your name almost in scolding but you persisted. “I just don't know what I have to do to try and prove you I can do otherwise.”

Jon let the hand not across your stomach move up, turning your head slightly to the side so he could see you a bit better, his voice deep and something hurt behind it in cracks. “Why would you think that?”

You wanted to walk away from this conversation, you didn't want to stand here and feel so pathetic in front of him. Trying to swallow the feeling back down, it was as if the need to let tears form came out of nowhere. “Everything that's happened, you can't have me screwing things up..”

Jon felt both stiff yet ready to fall apart behind you, his voice barley a murmur as he let his thumb run gently over your cheek. “Darling,” You shook your head but Jon only pulled you in tighter to his hold. “I don't know where you're getting this from, but that's not what this is, not even close.”

You couldn't really tell, but Jon certainly was realizing that something in you was blowing this way out of proportion.

Running a thumb from what he could of your scar over your dress, Jon rasped low behind you once more, almost in your ear. “All your life you run around trying to do everything for everyone, but now it can be different. Those men out there,” Head somewhat nodding to the open window before you, “They're the ones who called me King in the North. They look to me to lead them. But you're my Queen.”

In honest, your heart skipped a beat. You really hadn't ever head Jon say it so blatantly. It was like that with Robb, you both referring to each other as such as a way to get used to it alone and it almost turned into using it as endearments alone with one another. But you hadn't truly heard such a sentence so blunt from Jon before.

“I didn't want to marry you so you could do my job for me. I wanted to marry you, make you my wife, not because I wanted a Queen, but beacuse you're the only girl I've ever wanted. I don't care what other people think a King and Queen should be like. This is my kingdom to protect, but you're my wife. Which means it's also my duty to take care of you, not add to your stress more.” Only slightly, did your hands just barley lift up. Finding the bravery to move to him.

Not anything much, not even pushing the sleeve of his forearm up to feel his pulse. Just lightly sitting atop the material as you indescribably leaned back into him, Jon pulling you closer with every shift you didn't realize you made. Part of you wanted to deflect, wanted to obsess, but what came out of your mouth was the most honest of what rawness lay behind you. What Maege was trying to tell you not to do.

Softly, you spoke with a bit less weight in your throat. “No one actually believed Margaery Tyrell loved my Uncle Renly, no one believed when she went on to say she loved Joffery. Everyone knows she's faking. Doing what she has to, beacuse she wants to be the Queen. So everyone believes the lie that she's this innocent maiden falling for Kings and doing her duty. Everyone knows it's all an act to be Queen.” It was hard to focus on not looking at him, but the frown twisting into Jons face was deep.

The last thing he wanted, was for you to worry about what the North thinks of you. The last thing his people thought, was that you only did things to be Queen. He knows you and Robb loved each other beacuse anytime those years are brought up everyone is honest about how much you two were in love.

Jon also knew, everyone from one end of the North to the other was well aware of how deeply Jon felt for you. He didn't hide it for a second, he didn't want too. His came back to life beacuse of you, and not once did he hide the fact that it was you he laid his affections onto. Jon didn't have to lie anymore beacuse the threats lording over him didn't matter in this new life. Everyone knew, everyone talked about how much Jon had staked his claim.

But you continued despite the loud yelling in his head. “I grew up on Dragonstone, spent years in Kings Landing. I'm practically a foreigner compared to these people, and marrying the second King in the North looks as if I seduced my way back in.”

You could feel that tear in your heart and you hated that you didn't know why things felt so messy in your mind, or why the entrancing rasp of Jons deep voice lulled you back to something grounding as if he had bewitched you. “If you recall, I'm the one who tore all your clothes off that night, not the other way around.” Slowly, a fluster grew in your mind and radiated through an embarrassed look you tried to hide, but it only made Jon grin.

The small huffing breath was as much of a laugh as Jon was going to get, but his grip was softening a slight bit around you, easing up as you relaxed a bit in his touch. More life finding your voice then one at all. “I care about these people, I don't want them thinking I'm not doing everything I can to protect them.”

Thumb running back and forth still, not moving from your scar over the fabric as if he could rub a hole into it feel it with his bare touch. “Maybe I should call our men into court, let them know I can't seem to get my wife to stop trying to do everything and anything every moment of the day. Ask them how to force you to relax.”

Muttering quiet, you weren't judgmental but an honesty that simply was as sounding. “Jon, I'm fairly certain you've given Arya more responsibilities then you've given me since she's been back.”

Dropping down to someone rather monotone, Jon was so calm saying it you could almost forget what it took for her to even get back to him, like no time had passed. “That's beacuse if I don't give Arya something to do, she'll start chewing on the furniture trying to figure it out herself.” That got a real laugh, a light breathy one that lit you heart up a bit, and had Jons explode within the confines of his scarred chest. Moving close to somewhat nuzzle against the side of your head Jon debated turning you in his arms entirely. “After everything done, trying to burn it all to nothing...we still have a lot of work to do on top of that to make sure we're ready for winter. Gives her a chance to feel a bit more at home after all these years. Helping to fix it. But winter is coming, and that's how you're helping me. On the only fight that matters. That's where I need you.”

Nodding firmly, your fingers pushed his sleeves up just enough to run along his wrist, pulse always strong ever since it flushed back to life that night. Jon pressed a gentle kiss just under your ear in response, letting his lips linger as you muttered, “I don't know why I've been like this. As if the past week I feel one extreme to another, and no reason to explain why.”

If Jon had his own answer, it seemed he kept it to himself in the notable silence. Lips gently trailing down your neck, eyes fluttering just as a shiver ran down your spine in tandem. Both of Jons hands moving to smooth up and down the fabric at your hip to your waist. Kiss increasing in need, leaving small bites as he would lick and kiss the skin to soothe it. His facial hair scratching it's way raw that called to you for more, the feeling. Barley muttering in between presses of his lips along your now slowly marking up neck, “I don't need a reason to take care of you.” Moving up to rasp in your ear, you bit your lip at the sensation across your skin. “Will you let me take care of you? Right now?”

Eyes flickering up to the clear sky and with a nod of your head, Jon exhaled in relief. Hands at your sides now sliding across, undoing the belt and clasps at your abdomen keeping your dress all together, moving your hands away from his if you tried to help. You both hadn't commented, that you seemed to have more and more dresses added to your closet. Light and ornate designs that only someone who knows you as Jon does, could tell a seamstress to make.

They were all light in tones, or just the right greys and blacks that it was as if they were made to match certain looks on Jon himself. They also, you knew both of you weren't saying, were incredibly easy to undo. Laughably simple to pull off, and not much room underneath for layers. A silky, short shift if nothing at all but covering between your legs.

As soon as the dress came loose at the front, Jon pulled all of it off from his place behind you, letting it toss to the side without much care as to where it landed. Only, Jon wasted no time pushing the thin straps of your shift down your arms. Letting it drop right to the ground and shoved the last fabric covering you down just as quick. Leaving you bare, your own breathing making your chest heave in a lit spark of nerves.

Not for a second it seemed, did Jon care at all that he was stripping you bare in front of his open window. He didn't even move you from it, just let his hands wander until they reached your breasts. Both hands rough as they grasped a handful, groping roughly before Jons fingers slipped to run over the small buds on your breasts until they were firm for him to twist and tug as each cry from you made him all the harder.

Still, Jon didn't move you into the privacy of his own room. He didn't care. If anything, he almost seemed to step ever so subtly forward. As if he wanted you to be set on display for the gods watching from above. His teeth rougher as he marked your neck up. His breathing hot and heavy in you neck and you leaned back into his touch with meek cries of need. “Jon-”

One hand slipping down to your hip, that time it was a push forward no doubt. Your front pressed against the stone of his window, slipping to sit just low enough his fingertips only just stretched across your mound. The hand on your breast sliding up, tenderly running along your neck and turning you to the side enough he could see you even if you couldn't see him.

Voice rough as he didn't move to touch you any further, but kept you bare between him and the window, the beg in your mind that no one but the gods could see you. “Someone has been spying on us.” Your breath hitched, but not in a pleasant way.

You knew this time, there was no underlying meaning or intent in his words. This time he meant it.

“Someone has been giving information about what we're doing, where we are. And whoever these people are, are why the Brotherhood found you. They had spies looking for you.” Your hands reached up more, grasping tighter against his forearm as if needing to steady yourself but Jon ran his thumb along your cheek and jaw soothingly, voice lower then before. “I didn't tell you, beacuse if it weren't true I didn't want you to worry beacuse I was paranoid. But I'm not being paranoid.”

Inhaling deeply, you tried to steady your heart. Relax into his touch. Focus on his voice and maybe it would ease the feeling in you that screamed. Voice hardly there, but Jon always heard you. “Why would anyone care what we're doing in the North?”

Lips gently found your neck, pushing your hair out of his way and his hand slid to your collarbones and lower neck, as if to keep you steady against him in your unease. Murmuring in your ear, “Letting me call you a Snow, didn't stop you from being Stannis Baratheons daughter. And being a bastard doesn't mean my father wasn't Eddard Stark..”

What else needed to be said, really? A dangerous couple to the eyes of an enemy it seemed. Snow in name, Stark and Baratheon in blood and in control of the largest portion of land in Westeros, best suited for surviving winter. That, and no doubt, whispers that the King in the North had managed to ally himself with wildlings would certainly not be unsubstantial of a threat.

But Jon was still attached to your neck, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted you to be distracted or couldn't stop himself anyways. Now having switched to soft, soothing kisses against the bites and marks he was just gifting to you. A cool sheen of air left chilling on your skin everytime he moved along, from how much he purposely soothed the wounds he felt desperate to create.

Hand low on your body, his grip seemed to grow harsher, like he was torn on what to do all over again yet he put himself into this situation. You however, had no control of informing him of it, all you could do, was try and lean into his kiss along your neck, hand reaching back to grasp the back of his neck as your own nails dug into the skin in need. Slipping without thought, Jon let his hand now properly press against your mound, teasing the want to slip down and feel you entirely.

Stuttering breaths through your words you managed to force out a question. “Is- is that what Ser Royce was writing to you about?” A hum in Jons throat almost showed he was hardly listening beyond surface level hearing. “I read the raven, I wasn't trying to pry I didn't realize he was writing to you in private-”

Surprising you, Jon moved to cover your mouth with his hand, sliding his lips up to your ear with a roughness in his voice that shook you from the chills it left. “Remember when I told you not to mention your father when I had you in my bed?” Nodding yes slowly, Jon bit at your ear and tugged you back into him, not bothering to hide that time you could feel how hard he was. “I don't think I like hearing you talk about any man when I have you like this..”

Finding your eyes as you tried to look back, a more narrow look that spoke far too many jesting volumes then Jon wanted, he pulled back a bit. Eyes darker and darker as he tilted his head at you, narrowed brows. “Don't.”

Jon knew you far too well, instead of giving you the slightest chance of gaining an upper teasing hand, Jon finally slid his hand down between your legs. A growl in his chest right away realizing how wet you were and how long he hadn't been feeling it. Narrowing his expression more, he almost looked disapproving if you couldn't have felt his covered cock twitch against the plush of your ass.

Running his fingers along, he never truly committed to a touch, just fleeting brushes until your head spun and legs shook. Core burning in desire but Jon wouldn't let your mouth free now, not risking hearing you take your chance to rile him up more, so you stood, and endured and wished you could beg him for more.

Watching over your shoulder now, Jon muttered rough as he kept his eyes trailed with greed down your body. “Gods, you're beautiful..” An embarrassed whine flushed in your chest and tried to get smothered before Jon heard it, but he felt it. A far more chaste kiss then you could handle was pressed to your cheek as he finally gave you something. Sliding two fingers inside you, slow and steady but sinking right down to the knuckle as you gasped into his palm.

Never picking any pace up, just slowly letting his fingers glide in and out of you, no doubt soaking his hand every time as you felt yourself grow wetter around him. Leaning more against you each time, Jon rumbled deep in his chest as he looked down between your legs just as you wanted to hide against him at the sight and sound.

Muttering quietly, and nowhere near as rough as you expected, “I'm going to give you three. I know you can handle that, but I want you to shake your head no if you can't handle anymore. If you can't handle four.”

Eyes sealing shut for a moment, your core twisted and burned both at the twisting desire in you but at the overwhelming thought. How Jon wanted you to give him permission to ruin you further then he already has many times over. You nodded, but he called your name gently to look at him. Nodding slowly for yes, it was his turn to let a more shaking breath out as he looked at you.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, sliding his two fingers out of you first. “Sit down on the bed for me.”

Sometimes, you felt as if it should be shameful the way you never questioned him, never disobeyed any gentle command or order. As if you didn't want anything he did to you, to only be a suggestion. You'd let him do anything, and you wanted him to do everything he wanted.

Peeling enough layers off as you gently sat at the edge of the bed, your eyes instantly scoured his chest finding the very scars you never could stop seeing everytime you looked at him. A reminder of how you two were even able to be here, be together. Pants the only thing he kept on, Jon gently knelt down in front of you. Palms gently running along your thighs before letting one hand reach up to cup the back of your neck, and the other at your waist. Pulling you down to his lips into a kiss, your own hands cupping his cheeks.

A single bite to your bottom lip, and you granted him access. His tongue sliding into your mouth to freely taste yours, brush against your own and overwhelm you as he leaned up more to crowd you without actually letting you lay against the furs. It wasn't greedy or even overwhelming. But slow and careful, wanting to explore you as much as he coaxed you to explore his mouth right back until a high pitched whine sat in your throat from how long he kept you against his lips. Still, Jon refused to pull away. You knew, Jon wanted you to have that dizzy feeling when he kept you like this for so long.

Your arms wrapped more around his neck and shoulders, grasping along his back as he held your waist with more firm of a grip. Keeping you steady but unable to move against his own strength, you cried into his kiss but he smoothed his hand along your hair.

As if to keep you nice and calm as he refused you the air he seemed to find only in your kiss.

Ever so slowly, Jon moved from your waist. Running down along to your stomach where he ran his thumb over your scar as much as he could and then finally down again more. Spreading your knees apart better for him, Jon first trailed your own wetness up along to your clit. Jumping into his touch, he still didn't let you leave his kiss. Your nails scratching into his back by now, but it was as if that only spurred him on more.

It was cruel, how much Jon wanted you to rely on him for even just air to breathe.

Your core twisted right away, a burning coil that begged to burn bright until it took you over and nothing was left. Tight, tough circles against you and only when Jon would rub you a tad more raw did he go back to gather more. Tensing and tensing, you begged into his lips and finally did he pull away.

His timing even more cruel, leaving your lips right as your orgasm snapped inside of you. Gasping for air just as a plead of his name left you, saliva still trailed between your lips as Jon kept his grip at the back of your neck so that you couldn't lean away from him. Not even coming down, Jon slid his two thick fingers right back inside you as if that's where they belonged.

A rasp against your lips, feeling his brush against yours as he spoke. “It's alright, let me take care of you.” Nodding as you found his eyes, the grey wide and blown out against his pupils with lips still parted slightly as he looked at you. Smoothly he slide his fingers deep inside of you, pulling close to almost leaving you empty before just as slow, gliding right back.

Building it right back up, more and more you wanted to tell him to give you something else, but not once did you take away how much you trusted his touch without any doubt. Nails digging into his shoulders, gasps finally breached your lips and the moment you felt unable to contain your needing cries did Jon slide a third inside of you.

Eyes watching you with every sharp detail, your hips moved against him as your mouth parted in a gasp in between pain and pleasure. Right at that middle point you could handle. Asking low, but his eyes somehow were bright, something soft and genuine without that greed or lust taking over. Something more of affection as Jon pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and rasped, “Can I give you a fourth?”

You paused in your need trying to clear the fog in your head long enough to form words. Trying to speak through what felt like pants for air, your forehead pressed against his. “Anything you want, I promise. Do whatever you want to me..”

Jons own eyes closed. An exhale wavering as he still slid three fingers against your slick walls, right against something so sensitive it kept your nails digging into his shoulders. Another kiss to your lips, then to your cheek Jon whispered tenderly, “Don't give me permission like this..there's a lot I want to do to you, things I shouldn't..”

Shaking your head, your cries fighting with your words, trying to almost sob out the words against wanting to beg his name. “Anything, Jon..anything you want..” What was almost worse, was that Jon knew you meant it. It's why over a week ago, you gave Jon full permission to fuck you even as you passed out. Letting him do whatever he wanted, fill you as much as he wanted.

Judging by how utterly coated the inside of your thighs were by morning, you suspected Jon had taken you many more times then he was willing to admit. It was why knew he could convince you on that night with- his own thoughts interrupted at the feeling of your gentle touch. Moving to run your hands along his facial hair, Jon finally moved. Sliding a fourth finger inside and you cried out loudly.

There was the pain, the burning at the stretch as he sunk deep but your eyes sealed shut didn't mean you pulled away. Instead arching into him, hiding in his neck with his name a mantra on your lips. Jons fingers filing you slowly and as deep as he could manage, drenching his hand and the fur below with each glide and your teeth trying to keep calm with bites into his neck as if you had nothing else.

Whispering into your hair though, Jon told you the truth. “I want a daughter.” Tied between the cry as he brushed against your sensitive walls, tightening in your core at the feeling but a lightness in your heart there wasn't an insincere shred in Jons intention. His voice, was more solid and gentle as it had been since he walked into his chambers. Running his hand down your hair once more, “Anything I want, that's what you said. I told you I'd give you a son, and I will, but I want a daughter too.”

There was nothing on earth that would make you refuse that for him. Not now. Nodding your head yes, you leaned up to meet his lips. Nothing but a gentle press before he leaned over you, your back pressed into the fur as he kissed down your body. The cry as he pulled his fingers out replaced in an instant as he pulled your hips up to meet his mouth.

A grunt left his chest as his eyes closed. Tongue flat against you, soaking everything already there before adjusting his grip, keeping you slightly above the fur better for his own taste. What of your upper back still lay against the bed, your arms stretched out above you. Grasping tightly at the fur, as you felt powerless to resist how he moved you. Soaking you as much as you soaked his mouth, Jon drank and drank this time no shame in how greedy he wanted to be about it.

A cry leaving your lips, skin flushed with sweat and eyes wanting to water you were crawling towards your end once more, his tongue warm as everything else about him was and you let a choking sob leave you just as Jon groaned. You soaked his tongue even further, and tugging you more into his mouth you were sure Jon might just keep you this way all night if he could.

White hot and burning, you whimpered his name and swimming deep in your bloodstream was our orgasm as he licked deep inside, to flat along your core and up to nibble at your clit. Back arching you cried as it flashed in your body and overtook your muscles, the pleasure burning through you like a fever and Jon didn't let go.

Didn't ease up, just kept going and going. One more came, then another, Jon never leaving your cunt once for air, his mouth desperate to stay attached and drink from your oasis with fervour. Hands moving from your hips up, one pushed down on your lower stomach right against your scar as the other pushed up your torso and grasped at your breast, needing the softness while you held with weakness onto his wrist and arched again into him.

Muttering with no breathe left, “Jon, I can't, it's..please..I want you inside me..you-” Cutting yourself off first, you flew too close to the sun as your orgasm teased you on his tongue. His tough pressing down on your scar more as if prompting you.

When you hesitated, Jon barley pulled from your cunt to mutter against you. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

It felt embarrassing to ask for, but you had no control over saying it. “Please, please fill me..you promised to give me a- please..”

Only, Jon pulled you down to one more orgasm, your cry loud and back arching as Jon licked along your walls and up to your clit and everything in between he tasted, like a heaven. Jon muttered words against you, something short and by the grip on your hips, incredibly possessive, but against your cunt it was inaudible to any ears but him.

Forcing himself up, Jon captured your lips with his. Sloppy and messy he made you taste what turned him into a possessed man to taste any time he thought of it. Hands gripping your hips Jon pressed you into the bed unable to move as he hovered above you.

He still had one thing left on, that his cock was utterly throbbing behind. Pulling back, the saliva snapping as you both watched one another wide eyed and gasping. Kneeling up, Jon watched you lean against your palms to follow. Neither one blinking as he pulled everything left off of him with ease, cock thick and desperate to cum as it was between his legs.

You weren't even sure what was thicker. Four of his own fingers, or his red, leaking cock all on it's own. Too bad for Jon, you were taught to be quick by himself and sometimes you were sneakier then him.

Moving enough down the bed without giving up the leverage you sat slightly up against, before he could tell what you were doing, you leaned forward. Taking his cock into your mouth, and having the shameless audacity to moan as he deepened inside your throat.

Hand grasping the back of your hair, Jon swore as his teeth grit together in a hiss. Eyes slamming closed, but his lungs stopped working at how swift you were to let him more into your mouth. Licking what you could reach and only pulling back what you could from your angle, sucking with your own need as you did so.

Head dropping, Jon panted above you, chest heaving as he barley found the strength to watch. “Fuck..darling..fuck-” Growling deep, you felt his hand tighten. Instinctively, Jon felt you take as much as you could, and forced you there. Held you right against the coarse wild hair around his cock, not letting you up as you soaked around him. That time, Jon struggled to let you pull away, wanting to see you but he knew he'd spill down your throat the moment he did. Your mouth was too much to handle, Jon would fuck your small throat until your voice was ruined the next day if you'd let him. He'd do nearly anything to you by this point if it came up.

Were Jon not hurling closer and closer to cumming down your throat, he may have found it in him to feel ashamed at just what he was willing to do to you in this new life. How much of a perverse animal he wanted to treat you as despite knowing it was all tied deeply with how obsessed with you he felt, obsessed with loving you felt.

Jon pitied any version of his life that was once possible to not have you in.

Throbbing in your mouth, you moaned as much as your heart raced at him being so deep but before even Jon realized, he hissed dark in nothing but swears and your name slurred in as he held your hair tightly. Spilling down your throat, you swallowed everything despite how much his warm, thick seed had you muffled gags trying to take it all.

Keeping his cock in your mouth until he felt the last of his seed spill in and without wasting another moment, Jon pulled you off of him. Akin to anger on his face, Jon moved to hover over your body proper. Hands shoving your knees apart so you spread wide for him.

For a moment, Jon only eyed your soaking cunt, his chest heaving at the sight. Crawling above your body, Jon grasped your hands, pressing them flat beside either side of your head as he intertwined your fingers with his. Grey barley visible against the black in his eyes, and his hair still up meant you couldn't hide anywhere from the way he stared down at you. A whisper as if he couldn't speak much more, “Wrap your legs around me.”

Nodding, Jon waited rather patiently until he could feel your ankles hook around one another keeping you to him as he kept you pressed against the furs. One slow push, and he sunk deep without any resistance. Your name falling from his lips, and honestly, as much as your mind was a haze only feeling and seeing Jon, he was the same.

Were he not the man he was in this life, it would have been embarrassing how quickly he once more spilled inside of you. But you were so soaking wet around him, so tight but so smooth as your cunt was designed by the gods for his cock. Filling you, Jon didn't lose a bit of it, and slowly begun to slide in and out of you. Muscles shaking before his orgasm even stopped, he still begun to drag his cock along your walls.

Your hands held his tightly, head thrown back into the furs as you cried out. “Oh fuck, I love you,”

Jons head tilted, eyes pleading with you but he kissed you as gentle as his cock slid almost out of you before he gave up and fucked right back before getting two thirds of the way out. Nodding against you, you tried to keep up but Jon had you at his mercy, and you knew you needed to let him do it. His voice clear as he kissed you, then your cheek and murmured against it. “You have no idea how much I love you..no idea..” Clenching around his cock, Jon picked up his pace.

The slap of his skin against yours begun to fill your ears and you cried out one more, and Jon let it make him pound into you faster just to hear it all louder. Refusing to ease the pace as the slapping was so steady it would've been heard by anyone outside his still open window.

Everyone outside of it would hear how Jon takes you, and how long it went on for. Which was more then you imagined, or guessed. Once more, Jon knew he came shamelessly quick the second he felt your orgasm surround him. Soaking him, and almost begging to pull his cock inside of you deeper, Jon filled you as much as you came around him. Meeting ends for one another but Jon didn't stop. Just fucked and fucked, pounded roughly inside of you where no second wasn't air consisting of a crackling fire, your gasps and begs of Jons name, growling from none other then himself and the cruel, fast, slap of Jons hips against yours as he fucked you.

It didn't matter how often he spilled inside of you. But in that room, you didn't know that.

Walking through Winter Town with little guard wasn't quite the option most were happy with, but you knew the more with you the more attention it would draw in the first place. Which was why you were the one sent. Ser Davos walked beside you as the crowds in the streets were more full even in the snow then you'd ever seen it, you only wish you could enjoy it. “I mean no offence, but if he's trying to be discreet, seems odd to not send someone with a low profile instead of me and you, your grace.”

A ways off, you could see Ghost trailing about the streets. Not unusual, not now, to see the King in the Norths direwolf wandering about the castle and it's town but what wasn't normal, was Ghost following you from street to street as you made your way. Keeping an eye on you was one thing, but in a strange manner it felt as if he was purposely following you without commands to do so.

A long time it had been since you were around this part of the town. Like many buildings, nothing of it stuck out in particular but any who was aware of it's inner contents would know it by sight even in the dark. Your voice fell quiet, answering Davos's original point. “He knows it will draw attention all the same, the point wasn't to be discreet. It was to not cause a stir more then he has too. I walk in here, and there are very few who would make that assumption, all things considered. But, If Jon goes himself-”

Davos finished the thought for you, coming to an understanding light on his voice. “All anyone's going to talk about is what the King in the North does and goes in his spare time.”

You nodded once, and as the sounds increased the closer you both got, the more obvious that became to him. How much it would stand out indeed, to see Jon, their honourable King, for any reason walking into a brothel. It wasn't a large building by any means, small and limited with what was right out there as most activities likely done in rooms alone, not so much out in the open here.

Curious greetings of “Your Grace” came from the girls still out and about, but you had only one you were here to find. Whatever other eyes just might be in here, couldn't be what you cared about at that moment. That was a worry later. Up by what seemed to be a display like that of a tavern, behind the small counter was a face that went from the normal bright and sweetness most girls would give to any clientele, to something a bit more serious, if not nervous.

Light brown hair in natural curls were pulled mostly behind her and she, even in the cold, was dressed far more warm and covered up then the others. She seemed, to be the one who wander ins and new comers would speak too, in charge in some manner, but she didn't strike you as the kind to find a life on her choice to wrangle whores in their employ.

Approaching, your face changed little in the stiffness given, not much given away in expression or posture, as Ser Davos looked rather unaffected. Which wasn't much of a surprise, the kind of people and life he once used to associate with, this was likely nothing. In her, there was a roughness as if putting on such a pleasant tone wasn't her norm anymore. “My Queen, what a lovely surprise, is there something we can do for you?”

Ser Davos to your left was glancing around the room with his own watchful eyes, allowing you to turn yours to speak softly in the lack of eyes on you other then curiosity. “I've been told you have a girl in your..” Searching for a moment in your head of the appropriate word. “..employ, which has matters she would like to bring to my attention.”

That time, she was the one to look at the other girls in the room before leaning forward a bit across the wooden counter. “I do, my Queen..me...” Your lack of shifting expression seemed to put her a bit more on edge, but you knew here of all places was not where the mask should slip. Asking for her name, indeed she was the one. “Daisy.”

Turning to Ser Davos, he raised an eyebrow and your eyes narrowed in thought almost as a silent discussion. The man thinking to himself, sometimes it was amusing, how little you and Stannis realized that you conveyed the same things in the exact same silent manner. “We don't mean to interrupt your business, if there's somewhere the Queen can sit and talk that isn't preoccupied.”

You almost turned your head slowly to give him the briefest of jesting glances in your eye, but instead the unsure ones on Daisy in front of you kept your focus. She nodded quickly, “Of course, if you would follow me,” Not leaving to any of the other rooms proper, Daisy led you down the hall.

A stretch of rooms that only working girls ever would go into, kitchens, up keeps, things of the sort that men in need of a quick tangle did not care to walk passed. At the end there was a small turn in the hall to a room on the end, one clearly used for any non working girls, which was taken up by an array of things well lived in.

There wasn't much in it, no windows of course, but a small fire lit with a few candles around to keep it from being too grim. Pulling a chair out, she walked to one edge of the room to a cabinet, once more a voice of high politeness flowing from it. “Is there anything I can get you, my Queen?”

Slowly, you pulled off the white fur around you, draping it gently along the edge of the chair as you looked around the room, still not much of a change in expression. “No need to go out of your way.”

You knew she was on edge, but trying to tell her to settle wouldn't help. Taking a seat near a small table, you asked Ser Davos to give you the room. You could sense her anxiety from here. The girl was nervous and she had good reason to be.

What she was risking by doing this.

It was that morning hours earlier as some of the pieces came together. Ser Yohn Royce had been the one to reach out to Jon all of his own accord first. Trying to be diplomatic in how he expressed things, but Jon had picked up on it quickly, the feeling like there were things not being said in the raven scroll. So back and forth they had gone for a bit, trying to find the root of what Ser Royce wanted to say without risking too much and spelling it out in black and white.

There was something he thought Jon should know. Arya questioned it as the small group of you stood in Maester Wolkan's study, most around the desk looking at the records of every raven passing through these walls was kept. You were alone by the window, arm crossed over your stomach to prop your elbow up as your nails dug into your lip. Pacing back and forth in thought trying to put the same connections together Jon was.

“Why reach out to you now? Why not earlier, they didn't do anything during the war why would they want to help us now?”

Jons hands perched on the desks, tensing and retensing as he tried not to glance up at your silence in concern, keeping focus on what was right in front of him here. “Ser Royce isn't Lord of the Vale. If he's going against their wishes then he has to be careful. More obvious he makes it that he's reaching out to me, the more danger it might put him in.”

Arya's face twisting, not trusting quite yet. “But why now? The Vale refused to help Robb during the war, why does he care about us now?”

Your own expression grimaced, glancing over to the group with a quieter tone then the rest of them debated in, but Jons eyes trailed up to you instantly, catching the rest of their focuses. “It isn't their fault. They were kept in the Vale from day one, they weren't allowed to leave.” Arya asking why and you widened your eyes for only a moment as you considered how to phrase it without sounding too judgmental. “Robin was too young then to make any decisions, meaning Lysa was doing it for him. Not exactly what I could consider a..fair choice of a ruler, Lysa.” Glancing to Arya with a tilt of your head, “She was your aunt, but she was a far bit more then what some might call a touchy woman.”

None in the room, the two wolves, nor Maester Wolkan, Ser Davos knew what you were talking about. Not quite as directly, but Theon certainly did. He knew as well as you what the story was Catelyn had reunited with Robb telling of her sister. He, did not quite hold back the same way your low tones were. “Woman was out of her mind.” Head turning, Theons name scolding from you quick and short but he didn't give up his position. “What, you want me to tell them all about what Lady Catelyn told us? All that weird stuff?”

If you weren't so deep in puzzled thoughts, you might have laughed in a sheer awkwardness. No, no you did not want to hear any of that retold. You had seen some of that yourself when you both lived in Kings Landing. Horrible thought as it was, but at least she wasn't there anymore to still force Robin Arryn into all that strange nonsense. He'd be a teenager now, and the disgust was not quite hidden on your expression.

Many of you had bits of a story that came together to start forming an image that none knew what was supposed to look like. Some names Jon had, and two of which were to be watched carefully but it was a third, that he needed you to be the one to go speak to her.

“She's the only one Ser Royce said is willing to help. Knows who the others are.” There was too much at stake the rest of the North was risking, Jon did not have the time to dedicate to painstakingly root out who was watching and why. Whatever ploys were being set in his home, he wasn't tolerating. Not now.

Not with him. After what he did. Because as soon as Wolkan said who it was Lysa had been married to just before she died, you knew right away it was his eyes watching you and Jon.

You just did not have the information to understand why yet.

The air outside was crisp as it was cold as you stepped into the streets, and it felt a relief stinging across your face to feel it. Having asked him to give some privacy, both Ser Davos approached you as did the now quiet and much closer waiting Ghost. The direwolf finding your side much closer, a rumble in him when your gloved hand ran along the fur by his ears before the three of you made your leave. Speaking quietly, you didn't bother tip toeing around the subject. “I'm sending her to your Keep in Cape Wrath.”

Glancing in question, Ser Davos sounded a bit taken back. “Your grace?”

Eyes trailed firmly on the snow your feet would walk across to get back to Winterfell, your tone as flat but heavy in something disguised away from disturbed as possible. “I'm presuming her previous profession won't be an issue for Marya, considering the company her husband keeps. She can be a maid, work in the kitchens, something safe, something out of sight. But I can't have her here, and I cannot just send her anywhere. I need to send her someplace she will be safe. Somewhere Petyr Baelish has no allies.”

Walking in quiet, Ser Davos found no protest in him. “What did she tell you?”

Late into the night, it was odd, discussing it for the first time with someone who knew exactly what it was like. Jon would try and explain it as best he could, but there was nothing comprehensive about how it felt to walk within Ghosts mind as if they both existed together, both walked together. Sitting by the fire, Jon and Arya found solace in their new found strangeness not being only them.

“I thought I was dreaming of Nymeria at first, but then I kept dreaming, and it felt like I was controlling it but I didn't understand why it felt so real.” Her eyes staring off into the fire, the quiet between them needed no further explanation. “Then one day, I was walking the streets, and I found myself..I knew then I wasn't dreaming.”

Still hard for Jon to believe that Arya had been all the way in Bravvos. Even harder to believe what she was there doing, the things she learned. Then again, he knew he had seven open scars littered about his torso that also was hard to believe. “That's how you were able to see, you used a cat?” Arya nodded, and Jon almost smiled at his impress. It was incredibly clever, really.

He hadn't brought it up to her much, or anyone but it slipped out with a surprising ease. “When I died, I was in Ghosts mind.” Arya's eyes bright, yet trying to hold back the wavering in them at the image she thankfully never saw. “I was in his mind the whole time until I came back.”

Your name slipped from Arya's mouth, “How do you know she brought you back? If you were in Ghosts mind, maybe you were always going to come back.” Jon knew she didn't mean it in offence, but it was hard for any to grasp. The way you and him came back to the world of the living.

Eyes flickering to the flames head, Jon could recall it vividly. “I felt it. I know it was her. I came back and she was all that mattered, almost as if I'd be lost again if I didn't see her..and now..now more then ever I know it was her.” Arya asking quietly after a beat of silence if he was sure, but Jons jaw clenched as he nodded once knowing it wasn't that which she was asking about.

“And she doesn't know?” Again, Jon only had one response, but that time it was a shake of his head in a no. “Why not tell her?”

That however, was something he knew he couldn't properly explain, not to Arya, not to you even, it was simply something dark trapped in Jons head that he needed to figure out on his own. But right now wasn't the time, not with what had to be done, the next few weeks. Voice rasping out roughly, “It's not that simple for her. If I tell her before she's ready..”

He knows he'd feel as if he'd be pressuring you. And Jon didn't want to do that, but eventually you both were going to have to add this to the list of things needed to be dealt with. But not yet, there was no need to rush into this. The North didn't have much time, but it had enough for this.

Even after Arya left to sleep, Jon stayed there for a while. Eyes on the fire. Connecting everything else in his mind, finding the conclusion before even standing up to make his way to his chambers. It all connected, except for the why. He knew the who, what, when and how. But the why? He still hadn't the last piece.

Creeping slowly into his chambers, it almost was enough to freeze him on the spot. It always was when he'd have the chance to see it. Laid out gently on top of the furs of his bed, it seemed you tried to stay awake long enough for him but fell asleep before being able to climb into the bed proper. Now, you laid out, comfortable and more peaceful then any given hour of the waking day.

The only time anymore, you looked truly innocent and all Jon could do was feel his muscles tensing up as he tried to move around the room quietly. If he looked back on himself ten years ago, this wouldn't be an image he'd even dream of on his worst nights. Yet you lay here in his bed, as his wife, and even worse for him now, Jon knowing he had the freedom of your permission, to act on just how hard your innocent, slumbering body made him. Without having the guilt of needing to wake you up for him.

Making his way around to the front of his bed, the shame of what an animal he had become, as he was undoing the laces on his shirt. Only, he could feel the cold air of the room on his torso. It shouldn't have been any colder then normal, fire blazing, the windows firmly shut only it was cold in the room, yet it was freezing. And something rang inside Jons mind instantly, the last time such cold surrounded somewhere you were like this. That was, until his eyes turned white.

White flew everywhere. It covered the ground, the air, it flew along you hair, skin anything exposed in such bitter cold that held no escape. But that wasn't it's only form. Standing tall next to you, almost in such a place, he stood in it's full true capability of height taller then you. Fur white enough that it seemed as if the snow storming around didn't effect it.

Red eyes keener then yours and could cut through what you could not, whatever begged Ghost to stand here was not just the direwolf you knew in waking life. Eyes intense as he was quiet, but you could not discern it here, not in this place. Too well you knew what having Ghost at your side felt like, but this was not that feeling.

But you both were here anyways, and despite the sights ahead only storm, it was further you walked. Silhouette's followed like none which stood on the icy earth. Which was which there was no way to know, but a man and a woman shadowed against the cliffs around you in shapes almost like ice dancing in a dark sky reflection.

Taller then the man, hair flowing as if on fire but in a place you knew it could not survive. Moving along the two figures with a strange grace the man could not. Yet in place of walking, was an embrace, something close and almost akin to loving should it not be a freezing image swept away in the winds as your eyes squinted to look at it.

Stopping in your steps, Ghost turned to look at you. Once more eyes intense and speaking emotions as if a thousand more words were in his mind then only a direwolf knew. Urging you to follow him, stay forward, to not let yourself wander away or behind. Not in this place.

Lips and skin turning the slightest shade of blue, you did not know how it worked. Why you could walk here and survive when none else has known too. Ghost was of the north, it made sense, but you? The Sight should not give you new skin to endure the freezing cold. No normal man could, and having visions forced upon your eyes and dreams did not make you anything special. Not even death.

Did the cold lands of winter go on forever? Was the comments of exile at the end of the world so drastically wrong about the Wall? None truly knew how far it went and no one had ever gone this far and lived to return with it's details. So why did your feet walk through the snow now?

Bumping into Ghost he had turned so swiftly in the whiteness around that you hadn't seen until your hands braced against this thick fur. Still on four feet, he looked to the distance and a low growl vibrated through him all the way into your hands and veins throughout. Keeping you behind him almost but whatever caught his attention you could not see. “Ghost..” Your voice was barley a mumble in the freezing.

The direwolf did not turn to your voice, but you felt not his paws or claws, but a hand rough yet gentle dance as a phantom along you hair by the side of your head. Nothing but the wind and yet the wind formed only in such a moment into hands to comfort before shattering again. The hand of yours still braced against Ghosts fur, tightening in your grip as he growled deeper and the more he stared but it was so bright yet too dark to see what he did. The sky could have been any colour, all there was above you was more storm.

Only the sound other then wind and Ghost was a single caw of a bird. Your eyes flying to a high cliff and somehow against the snow and ice sat a crow, no bigger then any other but he was there. Staring down at you both without another sound but watching. You couldn't see any of it's details but something about the bird felt strange. As if this bird flew when it shouldn't be able to move on it's own otherwise, a raven sat beside him, feathers even from here looking as if they were drenched in blood.

Again as if only for you two down below, the wind picked up and once more the image of a man and other world like woman painted along the cliff side, stretching first from where you and Ghost stood. The crow cawed once more and that time Ghost turned as well. His red eyes seeking the image and up at the crow before it's growl simmered to something less offensive.

You and Ghost looked upon the strangeness of the way the ice in the wind danced here, until part of it flew down and around to brush against your wrist, tracing like fingertips down to wrap around your hand as if it tried to form one. Once more scattering into nothing when you tried to return the empty gesture. Ghost watching you as you stared down to the gone sight, and your grip on his fur loosened slightly. Something less tense in your shoulders as he shifted do sit somewhat but closer against your shaking side.

By the time either of you looked back, the crow was gone. But you were not alone, as Ghost sensed it the same time you felt it. This time, across your shoulder as a real hand. Ornate metal across the leather glove and Ghost turned to bite and snarl at it's owner before lunging to stand in front of you.

Shoving the figure back a step, and your heart raced in such a painful manner you could suddenly feel the wind dancing around your hand and wrist. The hold this time tight even though nothing existed to return, but your focus was barley there. It was on who Ghost stood in between to keep you from. One eye blue in a way that looked like a sinister lie while the other was gashed, blood dried as it was carved like a knife deep where the other eye should have been.

Whatever you had done to the stranger, in this world, those marks stayed and you knew his intentions would do more then scare you in just a dream. Voice smooth but skin crawling as he spoke over the windy storms and the growling of Ghost. “You Great Wolf will not always be at your side, girl. One night, you will find me once more.” Ghost stepped forward as he took one back. Eyes kept on your shaking form trying to remain impassive despite the fear in your eyes. “If the old man will not help you, then you won't be able to control it. And you won't know how to escape once this one is not here to protect you.”

Was your tongue cut out? You found no ability to speak, but the wind around your hand and wrist tightened to the point it almost hurt. Ghost in front of you, was ready to attack at any second he felt the stranger goes too far, but the stranger had a voice he enjoyed to speak.

“Perhaps we will find out if I can put a bastard in you, in here of such a place before your Great Wolf gets there first. Man of honour like him won't have much use for a whore with another mans bastard inside her.”

Not even Ghost could go for him quicker then he was no longer in your sights. There one, gone the next but you felt a breathe along the back of your neck that was not the same grabbing your hand. The strangers voice scratched in a paralyzing way only like one other had made you feel. Whispering as if to keep it a secret in his taunting. “Come find me, girl.”

But his voice shattered once more, and the winds clear only enough for the black skies with shimmering green to emerge where you once couldn't see then. Ghost's teeth pulling you into his great stature with a possessiveness just as the wind wrapped around your waist and kept you against it's non existent form just as much.

The shadows of you and Ghost did not reflect either of you again, just an image of two beings against the cliffs of a frozen land no one had known to survive before. But the wind tightened around you more and more and Ghost no longer stood at your side. Only just as your mouth opened to shakily call for the direwolf, a human voice rasped deep against you.

Above the silhouette's, you saw the crow back. Staring down at you again. But before it could caw out whatever it wanted to say, what you realized in an instant the second time, was Jons deep rasp calling your name much more close and gently, when your eyes opened.

Gasping for air, Jon kept you close. A hand running along your hair, the other steady at your waist as he murmured into your hair, pulling you into him. “Breathe for me..” Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders tightly, both refusing to let the other go.

Jon and you both, were utterly freezing beyond any cold currently flowing through Winterfell.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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percervall · 1 year

Text

and he looks up grinning like a devil

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader Words: 3457 Warnings: Smut, use of academics as dirty talk (it'll make sense), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), guided masturbation/thigh riding, talk of kinks, multiple orgasms (f), protected sex (p in v) A/N: @kostasstsimikass got me hooked on Drive To Survive at the end of last year and now I'm obsessed with a certain Australian F1 driver. And apparently, when I told her (and I quote): "There. Is. No. Filth. Filthy. Enough. To. Do. Him. Justice.", my brain took that as a challenge. Enjoy the 3k in filth about this man, I need a nap (and maybe a snack) 🙈

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You first met Daniel while visiting the RedBull racing headquarters. You were working on getting your masters in engineering and your University had set up a tag along to see the theory in practice. While not necessarily being a thrill seeker, you had a fascination with fast cars —something you probably inherited from your grandfather. As you admired the race cars, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. It wasn’t uncommon, you were the only woman in your year, but this felt different somehow. As you turned your face, you made eye contact with the person who’d been looking at you. You had not been expecting the pair of gorgeous brown eyes, twinkling with mischief or the smile that accompanied it to belong to a stunning man with curls that constantly fell onto his forehead. He looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. His smile widened and you couldn’t help but smile back before turning your attention back to the engineer who was telling you all about his work. Later, when you had returned to the conference room for lunch, the team principal introduced your class to the drivers. When the same man walked in, introducing himself as Daniel Ricciardo, you realised why he had looked familiar. As he talked to your classmates and answered their questions, your eyes met once more, and your stomach flipped. Something about the way his lips quirked up with a smile as he looked at you told you he’d be trouble –the best kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.

It would be years before you could test that hypothesis. You had since graduated with honours and had started working for McLaren. You had worked your way up to become an Engine Systems Engineer. It hadn’t been easy to get there and being one of the few women in this field did not come with perks. If anything, it came with a side of misogyny that often left you wondering whether it was worth it.

You were chewing on the back of your pen as you went over the data from the latest system checks to see what needed to change before the first test races when you felt someone looking at you.

“Yes I know what I’m doing, no I won’t make you a sandwich,” you said, without looking up from your work. The chuckle you got as a reply made you turn around.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Daniel said, that same grin on his face. You felt absolutely mortified to have spoken to him like that.

“I-.. Oh god… I didn’t mean-..” you stumbled over your words as you tried to apologise.

“No worries, you can buy me a beer later to make up for it,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. You felt your cheeks heat up as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

One beer quickly turned into several, and while neither of you were drunk, you were definitely a little tipsy. Over the course of the evening, you and Daniel had moved closer and closer together as you talked, his knee now firmly pressed against your thigh. It sent a jolt of something down your spine every time he brushed against you, your whole body heating up.

Daniel was an animated storyteller; his face open and oh so expressive as he waved his hands around while he talked. They would sometimes come to rest on your arm or give your knee a quick squeeze, and somewhere between the second and third beer you had begun to wonder what else he could do with those hands.

Apparently you also wore your heart on your sleeve as Daniel leaned in closer, hand sliding up your thigh, so you could hear him over the noise.

“Wanna get out of here?” The unspoken promise was evident in the way his eyes twinkled. You nodded, gulping down the last of your beer before sliding out of the booth after him. The cold February air hit you in the face and made you sober up. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Here,” Daniel murmured, putting his coat around your shoulders. You quickly slid your arms in and mumbled a thanks. You were half wondering whether he would be this gentle if you were alone in a hotel room halfway across the world, whether finding out was worth the risk, whether you should go home instead of going with him. The tension was palpable and your body had a mind of its own. The light, teasing touches had left you desperate for more. In the time it took you to weigh the possible consequences of what felt like a reckless decision, he had hailed a cab. Daniel looked at you as he gave the cabbie the address of his apartment and smiled this slow, filthy grin that lit a fuse low in your stomach when you didn’t give yours. His hand came to rest on your knee, wandering up and down your thigh before he settled his hand at the top of your thigh, fingers curled around the inside. He was so close to where you needed him most and yet so far. The weight of it burnt through the material of your trousers and you felt a jolt of want shoot down your spine everytime the tattoo on the back of his hand caught the light of a street lamp. Although people always assumed you’d be more into the studious, educated (although you hated that term, because it was just as hollow as those who claimed to be educated) people, you’d always had a thing for tattoos. You were curious if he had any more hidden underneath his clothing.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of a luxury apartment building, pulling you from your thoughts. Daniel removed his hand to pay and you already mourned the loss as you got out after him. He took your hand and you followed him inside, riding the lift to the top floor. Neither of you said a word, but he kept looking at you, drinking you in. Normally it would’ve made you nervous if someone watched you with such focus, but right now you felt drunk on his attention. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and your breath caught in your throat. The lift stopped and the opening of the doors broke the spell he had on you. Daniel unlocked the door to his penthouse suite and let you in first before locking the door behind him. You awkwardly waited for him, resting half against the wall behind you as he hung up the coat you had borrowed. Daniel walked over to you, leaning a hand against the wall next to your head and he moved his face closer.

“Tell me I am misjudging this, tell me stop and I will,” he murmured in your ear. His voice had dropped an octave and it made your eyes flutter closed as you clenched around nothing.

“I want this,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look up at him. He let out a tortured noise and crashed his lips against yours. You sighed when his tongue licked against your lips, opening them slightly to grant him access. Daniel rested a hand against your cheek, long fingers curling around your neck as he tilted your face to change the angle. You wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers running through his hair. Daniel pulled you flush against him and you moaned when you felt him against your stomach. He chuckled darkly and moved the two of you backwards into his bedroom. He broke the kiss to pull off his hoodie before his hands were back on your sides, sliding your thin knit jumper out of the waistband of your trousers. You were quick to pull it up over your head, and dropped it somewhere on the floor. Daniel let out a strained fuck as he took in your lilac tulle bra embroidered with tiny yellow flowers. As far as bras went, it did nothing to hide your hardening nipples; the fabric was so sheer, you might as well have worn nothing. He dragged a thumb over your nipple through the fabric, making you gasp.

“Please tell me these come with matching panties,” Daniel groaned as he lowered his face, kissing his way down from your neck to your chest. You moaned, tangling your hand in his hair as he closed his mouth over the other nipple.

“Only one way to find out,” you managed to get out. Daniel let out a noise that reminded you of an animal and made quick work of unbuttoning your trousers. You kicked off your heels and let him pull the fabric down your legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around your ankles. His large hand came to rest on the curve of your hip, a finger sliding under the elastic of the matching thong.

“I had a feeling you weren’t as innocent as you want everyone to think you are,” he whispered as he walked you backwards until the backs of your knees hit his mattress. You allowed yourself to fall down, leaning back on your elbows.

“In my line of work having a hunch doesn’t cut it. You better test that theory, Daniel,” you replied. He laughed, pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing the taut muscles of his torso and a tattoo that ran just under his collar bone and onto his shoulder. You bit your lip as you watched him unbutton his jeans, taking in the smattering of tattoos across his arms. Daniel shoved his jeans down, revealing the artwork on his thigh. His head snapped up when he heard you moan. The grin he gave you when he saw you clenching your thighs shut was so filthy it made you blush.

“First piece of evidence to support my theory: innocent girls don’t have a thigh kink,” he commented. You dragged your eyes away from his thigh and up to his face.

“Correction, a thigh tattoo kink. Details matter, Daniel,” you replied with a smirk of your own, hand wandering down to your throbbing clit. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, as he watched you rub slow circles through your underwear.

“Ever gotten yourself off using only someone’s thigh, sweetheart?” he asked, the underlying question not lost on you.

“Can’t say I have. Are you offering?”

Daniel took hold of your ankle and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed. You raised yourself up on your knees, and wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips connected with yours once more as he flipped you in such a way you ended up in his lap with him now sitting on the mattress. His hands came to rest on your hips as he broke the kiss.

“I’ve got two available, take your pick sweetheart.”

Resting your hands on his shoulders for balance, you sat down on his tattooed thigh, gasping as your clit made contact with him. You bit your lip as you slowly began to drag your pussy over his thigh.

“Fuck,” you heard him whisper, eyes glued to where your bodies met. You were so wet already, the material of your thong sticking to you. Daniel lifted you up, making you whine in protest. He smirked, tugging your thong to the side before pulling you back down onto him.

“Wanna feel just how wet you are for me, sweetheart,” he said, giving your hip a squeeze. You moaned as he dragged you across his thigh, his quad muscles pressed against your already swollen bud. You felt your wetness coat his skin, making it easier for him to guide you. It’s sinful, it shouldn’t feel this good, you thought as pressure started to build low in your stomach.

“Think you can cum like this? Using my body to get what you want –what you need?”

You couldn’t answer him, too busy chasing your orgasm. He flexed the muscles in his thigh, giving you the pressure you desperately needed against your clit.

“So close.. Dan-.. Please… Please…” you whispered.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“Please can I cum? Need to-… Daniel… Please..” You heard him chuckle, tightening his hand around your hip.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you? You gonna make a mess on my thigh? Cum for me, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, pressing kisses down your neck. Your orgasm wrecked through you; eyes screwed shut and head thrown back, muscles trembling as his name left your mouth like a broken prayer.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, drowning out the sweet nothings Daniel whispered in your ear. Swallowing hard, you slowly regained your senses and realised there was nothing sweet about the things he was whispering –they were absolutely filthy promises; how he would love to bury his face between your legs, couldn’t wait to taste you, how he couldn’t wait to leave you absolutely ruined. It pulled a strangled moan from you as your pussy throbbed at the images he painted for you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, can’t wait to see you cum with my cock burried inside of you.” Daniel brushed your hair out of your eyes, pulling your face down for another kiss that left you breathless. He rested a hand against your back, between your shoulder blades, and another under your bum as he stood and quickly turned around before laying you back down on his bed. You reached behind you and unclasped your bra as he pulled your underwear down.

“Jesus, what a sight you are,” he murmured as he covered your body with his. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling his erection pressed against your sensitive core.

“That was one…” he whispered, moving down to lay on his stomach. The implication of his comment made your stomach flip and your pussy throb. His hands gripped your thighs and held them open for him.

“Been dying to get a taste of you,” he said before dragging his tongue through your folds. Daniel hummed appreciatively, making your hips buck which in turn made him chuckle. He entered you with his tongue, his nose brushing against your clit and stubble scraping against the skin of your thighs.

“Fuck!” you shouted, bucking your hips once more. Daniel held you down with both hands as he fucked you with his tongue. Everytime he dipped in and out of you, his nose would brush against your clit. You buried a hand in his hair, holding his face against your cunt as you desperately chased your second orgasm.

“Yes.. Daniel.. Yes, oh God…” you moaned. You arched your back, tilting your pelvis and tugging on his curls which made him moan against your pussy. The added vibrations had you keening as your second orgasm tore through you, leaving you a whimpering mess. You looked at him through half-closed eyes. His lips and chin were glistening with your arousal, the sight utterly debauched but so hot at the same time.

“And that makes two,” he said with a grin.

At some point after the fifth one you had stopped counting how many orgasms he had pulled from you with his mouth and fingers. The sheets clung to your skin and you felt your last orgasm drip out of you. You were so sensitive, didn’t think you could take any more, and yet…

“Daniel,” you whined, winding your hips against nothing.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Please…” you whispered. Daniel chuckled, watching you squeezing your thighs shut in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

“Gotta use your words sweetheart.” You felt your cheeks heat up at his words. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Need you, need your cock… Please, Daniel… Need you to fuck me… Please…” you whimpered, body writhing on the bed with sheer want. He gave you another grin, that slow one that was nothing more than a wordless promise that he’s about to comply with your request but you would be left absolutely ruined by the end of it.

He pushed his briefs down, cock slapping against his stomach. You moaned at the sight of him; he was much bigger than you had dared to imagine. Daniel crawled onto the bed, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

“More evidence to support my theory.. Innocent girls don’t beg to be fucked, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his cock through your folds. You shamelessly ground against him, a whispered plea the only thing leaving your mouth. Daniel sat back, dropping your legs, and reached over to the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him roll it down his hard length, a tiny voice in your head questioning how he could even make this look sensual.

“Still want this?” he asked, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, making you whimper.

“Yes.. Yes, Daniel, yes, please… God, please…” If your brain could form a coherent thought, you’d be embarrassed by how needy you sounded, at how he had reduced you to a begging mess of a woman. Daniel chuckled, which turned into a groan as he slowly pushed into you. You gasped as he entered you, the stretch burning in the most delicious way imaginable.

“Oh baby, you were made to take this cock,” he murmured, resting one of your legs over his shoulder as he leant forward. The change in angle had you screaming out his name. Daniel held one of your legs down against your body, essentially folding you in half, while the other hand rested on the inside of your other thigh, fingers digging into your skin.

“You gonna be a good girl and take this cock, let me fuck you?”

“Yes, please Daniel... N-Need you to move.. I’ll be good, please..”

His lips pulled up in a sly grin and he snapped his hips against you once, making you gasp. There was nothing you could do but just take what he gave you. He gritted his teeth and set a pace that left you whimpering. The angle allowed him to enter you so deep you saw stars. It left you breathless, the only sounds audible your panting and his grunts as he did as you asked and fucked you. Your fingers grabbed hold of the sheets, needing something to tether you to reality as he used your body to chase his release. Yes, he was giving you what you had asked –begged for, but it was as much about his pleasure as yours.

Daniel kept an unrelenting pace and hit a spot over and over again deep inside you that had you crying out.

“Right there, Dan-.. Right-.. Fuck…” You could feel your orgasm building, a tiny fire being lit in the pit of your stomach that threatened to consume you like a wildfire. Daniel kept hitting the same spot, seemingly hell bent on ruining you for anyone else. You were panting, the muscles in your thighs and stomach began to tense and tremble as you clenched around his cock. The thread that had kept you tethered to reality snapped and your orgasm finally dragged you under. Your back arched off the bed as you screamed his name.

“Shit baby, that’s it..” you heard him say as his hips stuttered and he came with a groan. Your ears were ringing, your heart hammering against your ribs, and for a moment you forgot where you were.

The feeling of something gently brushing against your overstimulated core had you whimpering. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking as you tried to regain focus.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Daniel said gently as he threw the flannel in the direction of his ensuite. You swallowed hard, your throat feeling raw. Every single part of your body felt heavy and every time you tried to move your legs, the muscles trembled. Daniel laid down next to you, pulling you against his chest. His hand rubbed soothing circles over your shoulder as he pressed gentle kisses against your forehead and hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore,” you answered as you swallowed again, your pussy throbbing at the memories, “and so tired.” Both of you were quiet for a moment, cuddling in the middle of his bed.

“So when will I know whether my hypothesis is proven?” Daniel murmured into your hair, making you laugh.

“Give me three to five business days to review the data and I’ll let you know,” you mumbled, snuggling further into him.

“Works for me sweetheart. Shall I run you a bath?”

“Later. Just wanna snuggle and nap a little,” you mumbled, words slurred with exhaustion. You felt him smile as he rested his head on top of yours and fell asleep to the sound of him whispering sweet nothings into your hair.

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