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sehya · 2 months

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✧˖°. ࣪𖤐 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠

✉ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜱʜɪᴛᴛʏ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴜʟʟᴇᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ, ᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ. ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏ, ɪ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ ᴘᴀʟᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ ɪɴ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ.

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝑩𝒂𝒋𝒊 𝑲𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆, 𝑹𝒚𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒋𝒊 𝑲𝒆𝒏, 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒓𝒐, 𝑴𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒚𝒂 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊 × 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

ᥫ᭡...𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 (𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲)

Mikey has never been into such store before so the moment you asked him if you could check out the store for a second, his entire face lights up with obvious joy and excitement. He didn't need to answer you verbally because he was already dragging you towards the store. Because of his energy as well as his unmistakably striking features, you guys became the center of attention for a bit. Meanwhile, Mikey who was used to such attention ignored everyone else, asking you excitedly where you want to look first. He followed you around and hangs at your side as he picks out sets of lingerie. Yes, he picks for you. Given the fact that he looks extremely cute and adorable being so excited, you weren't in the mood to burst his bubble (and you would never) so you let him pick for you. The blonde was happily raising a set of lingerie that you would never have choose for yourself; but in face of his vigor and cute, wide grin, you decided to humor him and go along with his wants as you tried the sets he picked out for you....and guess what? They turned out incredibly gorgeous on your body. You could already feel Mikey's dark eyes rakes over your body, studying you with noticeable adoration and anticipation as he admires the fiery red fabric that hugs your body perfectly. For him, the red color fits you so perfectly. He'll pout if you insist on trying another, fist clenched tightly inside his pockets because he could feel the strong urge to hold and touch you. He'll buy you how many sets you want but first, how about going closer to him so he could further appreciate how good you look in the set he specifically chose for you?

─────── · ·✧˖°. ࣪𖤐

ᥫ᭡...𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞

As soon as you mentioned that you wanted to browse in that store, Baji starts to flushed, the burning pink on his face intensifies with each additional second he remained in the store. The pink dusting his face is transitioning to scarlet especially when you hold up a piece of undergarment into his face, asking what his thoughts are and excitedly asking for his opinion. Baji felt like he's feeling a bit dizzy. He glanced at the piece you're holding and quickly averted his eyes and forced himself to give his opinion through short words. Then you decided to drag him into the fitting room with sets of lingerie on your arms, pulling the curtains close and trying different sets. Despite the fact that his face was burning with scarlet, his eyes found itself focused solely on you as you modeled lingerie sets of sheer fabrics and lace in an array of vibrant colors, each more exquisite and flattering on your body. Each comment Baji made was full of praised, but the moment his eyes saw you in a black satin set that has golden lace, he became speechless and decided that's the one - he'll buy you that himself. You better get dressed because he's gonna sacrifice his allowance just so he could admire them in private, specifically in the comfort of your shared bedroom.

─────── · ·✧˖°. ࣪𖤐

ᥫ᭡...𝐊𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐣𝐢 (𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧)

Growing up in a brothel, Draken wasn't at all flustered when you drag him to shop for lingerie sets. In fact, he was even looking forward in joining you. He commented seriously whenever you held up a certain set, his words full of seriousness as he muttered how it would complimented into your body. When you asked him to pink out one for you, he was already handing you a set which caught his eyes moments prior before ushering you to try it with his big goofy grin. The sheer bright pink fabric of the underwear Draken specifically chose for you caresses your contours while his ravenous gaze sweeps over all of your favorite body parts. He didn't forget to utter compliment about how good it looks on you, his eyes wandering around your body with obvious want as he continue giving you endless praise mixed with ambiguous meaning, implying how he couldn't wait to enjoy not just the new lingerie set, but also what lies underneath...The meaning he implied was very clear that you ended up paying for the set with a heavy blush on your face, meanwhile Draken was smiling so innocently at your side while eyeing you smugly as he traced your steps while leaving the store.

─────── · ·✧˖°. ࣪𖤐

ᥫ᭡...𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

Mitsuya was slightly surprised when you asked him. He's a designer, for god's sake. Why not just let him design a few for you instead? Of course he didn't say that, and thankfully he didn't because watching how you excitedly guide him towards the store made Mitsuya smile and gaze at you in adoration. He could make you a few sets but that was for later. Now, the designer was busy helping you pick lingerie sets that would fit you perfectly. Mitsuya is obviously the best person to take shopping for any kind of clothes. Even though the designer often scoffed the prices, lightly saying he could create better pieces instead, he has the most amazing talent in picking out clothes the look extremely spectacular on you. The two of you was discussing how a set would look good on you to the point you two sounded like you're discussing how the world was created. Mitsuya suggested a hue of orange that nearly borderlines to scarlet, and you were asking how a lilac colored lingerie would be good too. In that end, Mitsuya and you browse the whole store looking for those specific colors. The attendants in the store were intrigued by the both of you as they assisted you in finding the color and types of lingerie that Mitsuya and you was looking for. When you guys finally found it, Mitsuya's eyes was twinkling as he let you pull him into the dressing room. He helped you in wearing it, clipping the brassiere and praising how stunning it looks on you. When you wore the lilac colored lingerie, Mitsuya realized you were right. His hands hover over your body, adoring in their hesitation to touch, smiling as he mutters how you look perfect in this set, in his color that matches his eyes that's softly admiring you.

✧˖°. ࣪𖤐 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫

✉ Hope you enjoy it :)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #mikey x reader #baji x reader #draken x reader #mitsuya x reader #fluff #sano manjiro #baji keisuke #ryuguji ken #mitsuya takashi #tokyo rev x reader #xfem!reader

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ladythornofrivia · 19 days

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Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Two)

word count:

author’s note: writing more chapters of a sad dragon family series. I’ll be on a Norwegian cruise line for Italy and Greece for 2 weeks. I’m gonna be seasick, I already know it. So I’ll be writing this series before I leave. Please enjoy and have a good day.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

The preparations for the celebration of King Viserys has reached closer whilst you accompanied Alicent into the corridor, corridor after corridor of a long tour within the Red Keep. Servants bowed as you all passed. Cold bows and cold eyes lingered, despite their bare minimums of smiling graciously at your direction, as Alicent presented the halls with lavish decor. However, mostly it was green and gold. But others blended it with black and red.

As always, you’re marveled by the exquisite lace and embroidered patterns and a clear structure of its final design of artwork is invigorating. The stitching is what you’re most impressed of.

As all Targaryens and Hightowers strolling, Alicent parted ways with her children, unbeknownst to you, the one-eyed prince had his hands behind his back, violet shade of eye looming over your new gown designed by the seamstress, all soft-shaded periwinkle, strapped with gold embroidery and green and red, streaks of iridescent shun upon sunlight, your manes healthy and glowing, maintained through and through.

You knew he was watching. With his precious one violet eye gleaming at the back of your head, your body shivered in an alien sensation. As for Aemond, a dragon’s hunger is anything but stable or sane. A dragon’s hunger is like a breath of wild fire casted to the torch of the wondrous nature and life itself. The fire eats and leaves the bones of ash, dwindling in midair.

Aegon I altered the history and thus, House Targaryen must stand with unity and strength and blood.

Still parted aways after an idle chat, for Alicent to task with decorations, as her children were long gone, back into your large chambers, you were unpacking your materials for the completion on a quilt, a quilt with colorful dragons and mermaids and ships, various shades of sews and needles unpacked, as the back of your neck tingled with goosebumps as you felt a hot breath stroking.

Before you turned around, large and slender hands travelled over your clothed waist, nearly close to your chest above. A writhe of hot tingle rushing in your coils and chest. A quiet breath strained, lax down to a low hiss, a hiss nearly tickling your skin. No servants were around, no Alicent or Gwayne.

Aemond, a one-eyed prince has lurked and captured you. A princess sent by a Maiden herself. The fiery dragon must seize the princess.

You thought he has gone back to training yard with Ser Criston, as Alicent mentioned once at the entryway within a prolonged conversation.

“Aemond—”

His face inched close to yours, his supple and pretty lips touched your cheeks, trailed down to your jawline, whilst his left hand grasp your face to stay still. The pool between your legs gradually strengthened its warmth and slick, easily for the prince to prance and insert into your tight hole. Under the layers of silk dress, Aemond bunched the layered fabrics to your waist.

You never had a noble taken an interest in you. The only that interests them is the brightness of your teal eyes.

A mesmerizing glow of your hues has yanked his curiosities. His mother never mentioned him about you—not even once in a dubious talk.

Better late than never.

With his hand, fingers strapped, and his trimmed nails clutched the fabric of your corset, the laces loosener it in smooth motion, loosening around your frame, breasts ached as his hand—his cold hand—brushed and pinched your nipple while his other hand found his way your thigh, grasped as Aemond’s tongue flicked and his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your clit.

A moan escaped, your mouth shielded, you face drowned in flush, as Aemond’s heart leapt in satisfaction. Humming, he stood up and inserted his fingers into your cunt, thrusting the fingers in with doubled speed as your moans grew louder, but restrained the pleasure into your chest, holding it. The walls in the Red Keep are dire; servants and nobles and guards walked passed and patrolled through wall and doors. Even the highest nobles strolled by.

“Fuck,” is all he said, as if it was a prayer. “Your cunt might be as Holy as the Maiden herself.”

His lips sucked your swollen tit.

“My prince,” you cried softly. “Please. The guards, my brother and sister will see us.”

“I do not care of their pious thoughts.”

“I’m your aunt, my pri—”

“Don’t fight it, my sweet,” he said, giving a sensual flick on his warm tongue to your swollen flesh, “I might give you a reason to have bruise on you, ones that they’ll never find on your skin.” His hands grasped your waist, trailing with soft strokes. “You’re humiliated. Maybe there’s more than meets the eye.”

Based on his words, you never thought you found it attractive, considering the soft spoken voice, hoarse with arousal.

“Don’t fight it. If you fight against this, this subtle encounter between us, you’ll never forgive yourself,” he whispered, his wet lips brushed yours. “If you have been, you would shoved me away. Would you like that, princess? Shoving me away?”

His voice ragged dampened your cunt and clit twitched at his sound.

“Seems you enjoy it. You’re a good princess. But alas,” he pulled himself afar, the warmth on your body began to turn a chill.

“I shall see you at the feast. Enjoy your stay.” His neck went for a stiff bow, but his eye glued with plea for your consideration of his statement, whether you accept his offer or not, and departed your apartment—a once organized structure is now filled with clutter and oozing sex and the arousal groans you shared has imprinted in your head, you find yourself still with embarrassment.

In a way, a blessing in disguise when no one, not even Gwayne, saw or heard your affairs with a young dragon prince.

You have seen the arrival of Rhaenyra and Daemon and the children, you had a short introduction to all Black faction.

The dinner celebration for Viserys’s nameday celebration has been all but cumbersome. You felt a subtle hostility, but to due your presence, it has lessened but somewhat guarding up—all due to pettiness.

As you, making a progression with your father, it was all but cold distance even you and Otto were near. Not once he looked at you with adoration like he shared his adoration with Princess Helaena, showing her teal beetle. The Green children are all strained; Aegon had his fair share of capable stupidity to throw down a nasty comment of his cousins and nephews.

Daeron was disappointed with Aegon’s perversions, but Daeron veered at you with a kind smile and made a polite conversation with you. Once again, Otto did not acknowledged of your accomplishments. You felt sick in the stomach, and it’s not your bright gold and yellow dress you have finished making. Tears behind your eyes was arising, and your throat budged with hot and parched sting.

Aemond clenched his fist, for his anger was directed at his grandsire for not noticing you. That damnable old fool—if only Otto sees how your talents. When Viserys disregarded Aemond, even his siblings, he wanted nothing more than to see him dead. But alas, with your existence, it’s almost as if Viserys’s existence just naturally died out.

You pardoned yourself, and Alicent thereby dismissed you, you bowed and left to your chambers, spent the rest of the night weeping, thinking what have you done wrong.

As you exited, the tensed feeling withdrew, and Otto was happy again. And so, without a doubt, Aemond gave a good jab on Otto, which caused a disastrous supper for everyone. The music stopped. As for Aegon and Daemon, they found it amusing while Alicent ordered the guards to escort Aemond way back to his chambers.

For Aegon, this was a win for him. He’s not in trouble for once.

~~~

In dreams, you have never seen your mother, what she appears like or what she sounds like or how her personality was. The only thing that is closest to being a mother to you is the wetnurse or the servants or the Septa who provided you with assistance on your daily appearances and wisdom. Whenever a servant brushes your hair, you often think of what it feels like to have a mother brushing your manes with care and doting manner, a soft voice to soothe your aching heart, where doubts and fears would go away.

In times of sleep, you often thinking of ending your life, just to see your biological mother on the other side. Or perhaps more than just seeing your mother. There are times where you hated your life, and you want nothing more but to end it.

People have often told stories of your mother, though it felt it was a grave mistake. Some say she fled away to Free Cities, some said she ended her life from the highest tower of Oldtown and fell down to the sea. There are rumors where Otto took you because you’re adopted, or perhaps he had a secret, illicit affairs.

The cold feeling rushed in you as your eyes pricked with tears. With somebody telling you stories of your late mother, it brought no peace. Only the enigma of your shadowed doubts and an endurance of chaotic insanity, to question whether your life is real, if you’re real in this world with purpose.

The servants have been kind to you more than the nobles, the more everyone pointed out your flaws and the insignificance of your existence, you lead to believe that you’ll never be loved.

And cried once more. Each night, your tears flooded in pillows and blanket, as you embraced the closest object, pretended that it’s your late mother. An endless of an anguish thought has been a hazard.

Only the echoes of the walls could hear you and the pillows has stained, under your hug squeezed the material as hard, wishing for the pain to go away.

In his awake, he’s a perfect prince, but in his dreams, he’s a beast.

A beast kept within a shell of a noble man.

He has dreamt of your teal eyes basking in his dark dreamland, your voice, how it was yearning so much more. A dark dreamland filled with scornful memories of his nephews and Aegon, and the pink dread. He had kill all of them in his dreams, even the fat pig.

With a scolding from his mother, he couldn’t care less. He wanted your presence to be acknowledged by your father, but how can Otto be so cynically dimwitted and more offensively calculating against you?

When the servants spoke over how you’re not related to Alicent, chances are why Otto was pretending that your presence is nothing more than a useless and meaningless substance of meaning to exist.

Others said that they haven’t seen you gone out from your apartments—and that was recent.

Aemond visited you, presented you with a gift, but the word from you not leaving the apartments has concerned. Thus his mind came up an idea.

You have several servants entering the room with stack of your favorite meals and drink—including lemon cakes and Dornish wine.

One knows someone’s best interest. Whoever did it, your heart is elated. As soon as Aemond came in, you hadn’t known whether he knew something that you don’t. Somehow, his intimidating presence softens your heart, prickled in relief.

For some reason, when Alicent paid you a visit, although shortened, she was concerned of your health, you hadn’t formed a proper conversation; Alicent hasted when the Council has called for her summon, but gave her regards.

Aemond accompanied you for a while in your apartments, and chat whatever discussion came up. Each minute and each hour, the two of you became close, became so close that you or him hadn’t open your hearts, despite what he did to you days ago. With your cunt coiled at his face, his voice and neck, his waist, you find yourself crossing your legs, aroused and squirming beside him. You wondered and imagined of Aemond’s tongue guiding and gliding your soaked cunt. At this moment, you wanted tackle him and suffocate him with your legs wrapped around him, taking in of your nectar.

“I’m glad you are doing well, princess,” Aemond said to you. “For I have been concerned of your well-being. A delicate flower such as you does not deserve the cruelty of my grandsire or anyone in the matter of your visit.”

“He’s always been difficult,” you explained. “No matter how much I’ve improved with my skill, he’ll never sees as his or my sister’s equal.”

“In ways my mother and grandsire are more intolerable. Though I respect my mother, I find myself with bore with my grandsire has to say. If anything, I’m glad your presence has casted a light into the dread.”

In Aemond’s case, however, found you as exquisite as gentle as the blooming flower. His one took a longer glimpse at you and notice the difference—how your eyes glinted in glee while your cheeks adorned with youthful flush and enamored smile. Oh so pure and harmless. He hasn’t seen his mother and his siblings. As for Otto, he hasn’t spoke to him since supper at Viserys’s nameday after sending a jab across the face—out of character for a self-assured prince.

Oh, to ruin you.

“Thank you for the meal, Prince Aemond. You don’t know how much I’m relieved to say this,” you said as you finished the embroidery on your unfinished dress you sewn.

Aemond found your gowns just as otherworldly as you.

Consequences won’t matter; Viserys nor anyone else in the room care for his presence. Perhaps it is a blessing, perhaps it is for the best for you to be settled here in King’s Landing, as long you’re in content, nothing else matters, but if harm does come, he shall smite the immoral act. Aemond is no perfect, but with you, he’d be at his best behavior.

“Then I shall relieve you,” he proclaimed.

You find yourself halted at his declaration and glimpsed at his resolved expression.

Something has stirred in your heart that you wanted more than the civil interactions, wanted more than having someone to converse with you.

Tossing and turning onto your bed was all but a doozy. Dizzy from pivoting and switching positions, you had enough. Dreams had come again. This time it’s Aemond calling out to you, feasting on your wet folds and pumping his lithe and graceful rugged fingers in you. Ever since the day before Viserys’s nameday, with Aemond’s thirst, your legs ached.

For a Hightower, it’s a sin to self-pleasure one’s body—a selfish immoral act.

Somehow you found it odd. If a man does self-pleasure, no court would turn the eye, but a woman does self-pleasure with hasting fingers and naughtiness is considered dire.

Faith of the Seven had their own laws, but you knew that men and women had their fair share of illest secrets. Lucky for you, Alicent and everyone in the Red Keep does not know your impure thoughts. The room became hot, then cold, then all at once, the breath in your lips became ragged and desperate. You wanted someone to hold you, treasure you, seduce with sweet nothings and sweet promises with adore.

For your years of not having a partner, you have begun to fear of not having pleasure. In the heating moment, you thought of what’s like losing your maidenhood to someone with a big cock.

You wanted a cock.

His cock.

Oh, a dragon prince. If Aemond hears your thoughts, you’d run away and never to return Westeros and give yourself a new name and fashion.

Damn the consequences and the punishments from the Lord Hand and the Queen themselves! Damn the Faith of the Seven and their laws!

With your fingers circling your clit, no climax arrived. Thus, you casted your blankets aside with a huff, setting out to see him.

Trudging through the dark halls, the guards were nowhere to be found, assuming the guards went elsewhere. As you made your way to the doors, you approached and entered the chambers where you have found Aemond on his bedside.

Your breath held back, taking in at the sight of Aemond. With his porcelain skin and his long silver-blond hair, it gleamed under moonlight, appearing paler compared to daylight. His eye had an old scar, and his eyepatch was placed elsewhere.

Watching his body rising and falling within breath, you approached him and kissed his back, planted your light kisses, feeling the smooth surface of his skin.

Aemond awoke and turned, found you kissing his back.

“My lady,” he whispered, one eye widened, as you stare at his sapphire. It was beautiful like him.

You placed your finger on his lips.

“Have you come to made a decision?” he asked.

Your lashes fluttered under his gaze. “What do you think, my prince?”

Then your lips collided with his. Aemond was taken aback of your sudden act. Eventually, his consciousness fell; with his lips shared an illicit chaste kiss, his hands uncloaked you, and roamed on your womanly body, caressing you, until you began to undo his trousers, his cock hardened.

“This won’t take long,” you promised, slowly pinning him down onto the pillows, unstrapped yourself naked and sat in between his legs. You didn’t expect for his cock to harden.

Your eyes darted to his, awaiting. And thus, you yanked his trousers downward, unveiling his hardened cock. You eyes widened at the sheer size. Your maidenhood hasn’t been taken yet. Your future prospects of marriage hasn’t arrived, but it feels as the more you wait, the more your chances of marriage dimmed. With your body descended, the maidenhood had met his engorged tip.

Aemond lay still, watching you. His sapphire eye gleamed at its victory.

Your voice moaned aloud; your maidenhood slammed down, his engorged cock tightened on your damped walls. Gradually, the pace on your hips sped. You have never felt anything as good. Prayers in the sept are insatiably helpful compare to the prince’s cock.

You have never felt so alive.

Aemond knew you’re a virgin; your hips bounced all thanks to the guidance of his hands.

He pleasured a woman in the brothel in the Street of Silk at the age of three-and-ten. As a young boy, he regretted making a decision by making himself a fool to go along with Aegon and his shenanigans. He was expecting Viserys to guide him gently into the world, but the Driftmark incident has left Aemond concluded that Viserys, his father, did not spare a single kindness or thought and only spared it Rhaenyra and her sons.

All hope was lost until he saw you—a radiant maiden.

You reached your high, as Aemond clutched your hips, spurring down the hot semen bursting the inner walls—a divine conclusion.

Gasping for air, your legs stood achingly, leaving white traces of his semen dripping down on his balls and thighs. When Aemond tried to assisted you, but instead his face met your open legs and slammed your went against his chiseled face and nose.

Fuck my maidenhood, you thought, desperate, as your hips gyrated, feeling his warm tongue and the sharp line of his nose encouraged your arousing sense to further the climax, as your right hand found its way at the back of Aemond’s hair.

Aemond find himself humming against the warmth of your cunt, mingling with his semen. It was a divination, nothing like the brothel. If only his virginity had taken by you instead of a woman who hasn’t live up to her beauty and standards of gentile and grace. Streets of Flea Bottom aren’t to be trusted. His lips kissed your inner thighs, gliding his tongue, and pumped it in between your walls.

Groaning, almost feral-like, your hips paced, your tits bouncing as your walls grew hot again.

“Relieve me,” you said to the prince, hoarse. A soft squeak caught into his ears.

I shall relieve you, my sweet. Just as I promised, he thought.

Your hips gyrated harder, until the spurring had come close; hot liquid squirted on his face as Aemond’s tongue lapped on your cunt faster than last. Your head threw back with his languid strokes on his warm tongue.

Gods it was a miracle.

He has taken your maidenhead.

“Good boy,” you cooed, your breath rasped, your hand still placed on the back of his long silver-blond hair, gyrating your tired hips against his face.

Both you and Aemond found yourselves in elation.

“Good boy.”

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its-pip-art · 4 months

Text

Chokehold

Astarion x Tav (f)

Warnings: NSFW 18+, minors DNI, smut, blood, p in v sex, fingering, blood drinking, slight praise kink, slight pain/injury kink, porn with no plot

Summary: Astarion gets a little bit TOO into Abdirak's demonstration of torture on Tav in the Shattered Sanctum. Has to immediately steal her away and sort himself out

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes: I was going to write a whole fic about Astarion and my Tav, Antillia and this was one of the plot points, but I woke up this morning and wanted to write it. So if I ever get around to writing the fic I'll re-write this scene and add more delicious, angsty, lovey stuff into it - this is just bare-bones shit. Plus lack of character description in this makes me shake because I wanted to keep it as vague as possible so it's easier to project yourself/Tav into it.

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Astarion throbbed against the leather of his trousers, the once gentle want for her now burgeoning desperation. It was becoming painful. Each strike committed against her made him pulse with desire. His eyes followed the pretty rivulets of blood that escaped her broken skin. “Keep going.” He urged, doing everything he could not to moan her name.

Tav braced against the final strike and she could do nothing but yelp and tremble in the wake of it. She drew in ragged breaths in an attempt to calm herself.

“You have earned her love, sweet thing. Loviatar is so very impressed.”

Astarion watched Tav dangerously as she composed herself and thanked the man with an earnest smile (oddly misplaced, he thought, given the circumstances). The first moment after they stepped out of the room Astarion seized Tav’s wrist and dragged her off to the side. “We have to go.” He hissed.

Tav stared at him bewildered and with growing worry that her odd encounter with Abdirak had inadvertently caused trouble somewhere else in the sanctum, “is something wrong?” She could feel him shaking against her. She held his gaze, the brilliant red giving way to black, his pupils were so dilated…

Astarion held her arms, mostly to steady himself but it was all undone when the cool wet of her blood finally deigned to touch him. His eyes flickered shut from the exquisite sensation, and when they opened they were dark. The light started to disappear between the two of them as the distance closed. His body tipped towards her. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Tav lit red with the abruptness of proximity and his command. “Right now?” She asked in a hoarse whisper, but a wry smile broke through at the vulgar thrill of it. “The torture stuff got you going, didn’t it?” She felt fervour lighting within her when Astarion smiled at her, that dazzling smile.

“Immensely so.” Astarion whispered. He felt a little bit of comfort from the way she flushed, knowing that he was soon to get what he craved. He shot a glance over his shoulder, both Karlach and Shadowheart hadn’t gone with them into the priest's room, and for that, he was eternally thankful. He straightened up, clutched Tav’s wrist and began the search for a secluded room - a secret place for him to indulge wholly in his biting desire. He led Tav quietly and quickly through meandering passageways, leaving behind the thrum of the main hall until the sound became just a hum, and then, nothing.

Tav gazed around the silent room that was lit only by a few candles and she leaned against one of the sarcophagus’s, which eased the strain on her back greatly but did nothing to aid her mounting hunger. She watched Astarion pull various crates and large objects in front of the door to block it. “Is that necessary?” She was joking, and only a little concerned. But before she could utter another word he was between her legs grasping her throat, and the wind was well and truly knocked out of her.

Astarion’s expert fingers began to release the leather straps and laces that kept him from her deliciously soft skin. He eased the thick shirt off and his eyes danced over the crest of her shoulders, where he could see the beginnings of her wounds. “Show me.”

Tav’s skin stung with goosebumps at the demand and she turned her back on Astarion, her stomach twisting with pleasure at the gasp that came from him. She flinched at the coolness of his touch, one hand resting on her waist and the other carefully tracing the fresh lines in her back. “Ah-!” She gasped when the hot flat of his tongue dragged along her upper back. She felt a thump between her legs immediately and she braced herself against the hard stone tomb.

Astarion sighed with the instant gratification of her blood flooding his tastebuds - the most beguiling and richest of wines, and as always, utterly dizzying. He nudged his hips against her and his determined cock pressured his leathers once more. He tightened his grip on Tav’s waist, eliciting a strangled whine. Silently he guided her to face him, beguiled by the way she gazed at him…breathlessly wanton. “Darling…” he said so softly as his raptured gaze devoured her heaving chest, his fingers carefully tracing down her clavicle where old marks healed from their last tryst covered her supple breasts. He bent to kiss them, admiring how pillowy they were and how they juxtaposed his hardness so wonderfully.

Tav watched Astarion kiss and kneed at her, her brows knitted in a deep but pleasured frown as his teeth plucked at her stiff nipple. She raked her fingers through his wicked curls and guided his lips to hers, finally tasting him. The advance quickly deepened and she could feel his teeth teasing at her bottom lip, the weight and heat of his body pressed against her. A rough hand pulled her flush against him she could finally feel his tortured cock press against her stomach. As if he heard her plea she was lifted and perched atop the sarcophagus and his rigidness lined up perfectly with her wetness. She reached quickly into his trousers and gripped him, laughing into his kiss at the reaction. “Astarion…” She pressed her forehead against his as she began to work her hand up and down his shaft.

Astarion managed to steal a glance at her as she sighed out his name, the dim candlelight danced in her eyes and her skin was pricked with sweat already. He pulled quickly at her trousers and threw them behind him and he pushed her forcefully onto her back and he fucked his fingers into her, devouring her expression as she convulsed beneath him. “You are soaking, love.” He nipped mischievously at her jawline and slapped away her searching hand. “Not yet.” He warned.

Tav threw her head back and her back involuntarily arched as Astarion continued to viciously pump his fingers into her. She wanted to take control somehow. She considered her next move carefully, which was extremely difficult to do in her current situation, she could quite easily carry on as she was - he was excellent with his hands. But she wanted to be filled.

Once again she lulled Astarion’s lips to hers and held him in a kiss as she reached across herself to drench her fingers in her blood. She broke the kiss and slipped her fingers into his mouth and he groaned, clamping his lips around them and sucking. Tav felt her legs begin to shake from the sensation of her quickly building orgasm but she disrupted his rhythm and it receded. She took the chance to untangle herself and spin beneath him so that her bare arse pressed against his pulsating cock, she pushed back further and grinned when he moaned - an aching moan. “You said you wanted to fuck me,” she glowered over her shoulder at him, “so fuck me.”

Astarion could have finished there and then at the sight of her eclipsed by shadow - his shadow. His hunger for her grew, but not only that, the pleasure in denying light any access to her - he was greedy for all of the spaces it had touched in the past. He wanted the sun to envy him, to resent his sinful kisses, his decadent touches and his maddening caresses.

He pushed his fingers back inside of Tav briefly and used the wetness to lubricate himself with a few languid pumps. His rapacious hands rocked her onto him, setting a brutal pace. His scarlet eyes burned into her back at the redness of her skin, he felt no shame for the ecstasy her pain had brought him. For a moment the only sound other than their laboured breathing was the slapping of his hips against the meat of her arse, and if he wasn’t so offended by her silence he would have enjoyed watching her ripple in the wake of his thrusts. But Tav had a habit of being a nearly silent lover, mostly due to fear of being overheard - which did not line up with Astarion's depraved need to hear her scream his name. He took a fistful of her hair, wrapped his other hand beneath her torso and pulled her up so his lips could meet her ear. “We have a rare opportunity, love, you can howl and you won’t be heard.” He wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but he wanted her to sing, needed her to sing.

Tav shuddered against him as his nimble fingers closed around her throat. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and as Astarion had confirmed before, he was able to hear it. The first rumbles of vocal pleasure began to thrill out of her, slightly performative to begin with, but even those made Astarion rut harder against her, prompting a genuine and searing wail of pleasure. She was released back onto resting on her elbows, allowing her to drive some of the motion against him - the response of which made her keen loudly.

“That’s it,” Astarion growled in praise as he marauded every depth of her. “Good girl.” He sharply inhaled as Tav pounded back at him. He hunched over her, desperate to be as close to her as possible. He pushed his fingers into her mouth and when they were sufficiently sodden he took them to her folds and began to circle her throbbing clit. The reaction to which was a delicious buck of her hips that all but destroyed her grasp on control - he now had it back.

Tav grasped desperately for anything to hold onto to centre herself as Astarion mercilessly fucked her. Her skin was white hot and her vision was clouding. “A-Astarion-…” She managed shakily.

“Yes, love?”

Tav could feel the spread of heat in her stomach, the rope pulled taught. “I’m going to…” She couldn’t manage the last part, her lungs needed air and she was becoming delirious.

“What, darling? You’re going to what?” Astarion relished the way she writhed and reared against him, his fingers worked more ferociously now - agitating her further.

“Cum.” Tav choked out, “I’m going to cum.” She was burning up, searing. She could feel Astarion's hot breath on the back of her neck, his teeth seeking a spot to sink into her. And instantly it all fell apart, the rope snapped the moment he bit into her. “Gods, Astarion!” She cried and mumbled and mewled as her body succumbed to rhapsody.

Astarion drank from her blissfully, her clenching and undulating coupled with the exquisiteness of her blood tipped him over the edge and he emptied himself into her, his pace eventually slowing to a tired stop. He kissed the tip of her ear and nipped the lobe. “You’re a dream.” He sighed into her hair.

Tav laughed. “So are you.”

#astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion romance #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

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thepaperpanda · 6 months

Text

Welcome back home || Lucifer x f!reader

Summary: You find yourself eagerly awaiting Lucifer's arrival back home

Warnings: praise kink, rough sex

Word count: 750

Authors: Bear

A/N: I'm so happy to partake in this exhilarating Kinktober '23 Collaboration. My prompts were: praise kink & rough sex

Masterlist

"Welcome back home," you say, your voice breathless with excitement as you catch sight of Lucifer. He's beaming, swiftly kicking the door shut before pulling you close and claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. Your anticipation for Lucifer's return is palpable, as you detest the solitude that accompanied his business absences. You crave his presence and the excitement it brings, making the moments apart feel like an eternity of isolation.

"You look absolutely stunning, Y/N," he whispers, his lips trailing down the side of your neck. "Exquisite. It fits you perfectly, doesn't it?"

You're adorned in the lingerie he thoughtfully sent you, and nothing else. It's a delicate ensemble of strappy lace that barely qualifies as panties, a matching bra, and a short silk robe. Even when he's away from Devildom, he still loves to spoil you. You pull back just enough to give him a little twirl, and his dark eyes devour every inch of your body with hungry desire.

He licks his lips sensually, wrapping his arms around you once more, his hands eagerly squeezing your enticing curves. Your entire being feels ablaze with desire. "Did you do as I asked?"

"Yes," you reply, your voice a sultry whisper.

"Really? For three whole weeks?" He teases, sliding a leg between yours, allowing you to rock your hips against his thigh. The heat between your bodies intensifies, and you can't help but fear you might leave a telltale wet spot on his impeccably fitted uniform pants. "You didn't make yourself cum?"

"I promise," you swear, trying to contain your excitement.

"That's my obedient girl," he grumbles. "Just give me a few minutes."

Lucifer's shower seems to be over in a flash, yet the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity for you. The anticipation hang heavy in the air, making your heart race.

As soon as you hear the water cease, a surge of desire compells you to action. Your hand find its way between your thighs, fingers delicately tracing the path along your slick, heated pussy. You gasp. "Lucifer..."

The panties he had sent are far from ordinary; they are crotchless, leaving your pussy exposed and framed by their sensual lace. Every movement seems calculated to draw attention to the treasure concealed within, and you can't help but feel the excitement building inside you. The knowledge that he will soon walk through that door, catching you in this passionate act, send a shiver of excitement coursing through your body. With bated breath, you continue to explore your own desires, slowly succumbing to the intoxicating sensations that radiated from your wet, warm core.

And then, like a perfectly orchestrated moment, he appears, his intense black eyes immediately locking onto the very place where you were pleasuring yourself with a deliberate and sensual rhythm. He didn't bother with a towel, standing there completely naked, his dick rock hard, already leaking precum from the slit on his tip.

It's clear that he had missed you just as intensely as you had yearned for him. The electric chemistry in the room crackles, a magnetic pull drawing you both together.

“That’s my girl,“ he says, in a sinful low rasp. "Good, little girl."

He gently caresses himself, his own touches sending shivers down his spine. Slowly, he ascends the bed, his desire evident in every calculated move. Hooking his strong arms under your knees, he skillfully spreads your legs, granting him an unobstructed view of your eager pussy, clenching aroung nothing. The head of his throbbing cock brushes against your longing entrance, and an involuntary, passionate groan escapes your lips. “Is this what you want?” he asks, eyes dark as he looks down at you.

“Please,” you gasp. “Please, I was so good!”

“I know you were, princess,” he soothes, and fucks into you with one smooth thrust.

In the throes of passion, you can't help but moan, your body arching upward in anticipation. Your desire brings you to the brink, and you tremble with the intensity of it all. "Please," you gasp.

Lucifer engages in an unrelenting, rhythmic motion, his hips swaying back and forth with precision as he fully penetrates you. A series of subdued grunts escape his lips as he revels in the incredible sensation of your wetness enveloping around his throbbing cock.

"Oh, Lucifer!" You moan, yor head rolling back to the mattress.

“You can come, sweetheart,” he says, and you’re clenching around his dick, seeing white sparks of unbearable pleasure even before he says, “You earned it, my good, little pet.”

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amoxxii · 24 days

Text

"Pernicious Present" Pt.1

Feyd Rautha x Suk Doctor! Reader

Summary: The greatest gift from Emperor Shaddam to House Harkonnen is a ticking time bomb wrapped neatly in a ribbon. Warning: Death, Blood, Torture part 2 (I've never read Dune. This is written based purely on the movie and a quick search.) "What a dull knife," you comment. Feyd has just slashed through his servants moments ago. "Since when did I allow you to speak?" The Na-Baron growls as he sharply turns to face your display of intrusive thoughts. It would be a death wish to anger him right after he had exhibited his rage. But to you, it is just another move in your scheme.

You know that Feyd doesn't have the power to kill you, not yet. All the tears you had wept and sweat you had shed through the Suk School were not wasted. The position: Baron Vladimir Harkonnen's personal Suk Doctor is what keeps your head on your shoulders. Reminiscing, the road to this status has been nothing like a flowery path. The school was hellish, and the exam was arduous, but nothing came close to gaining the Baron's trust.

Since you were sent to Giedi Prime as a gift from the Imperial, Baron Harkonnen had suspected you greatly. His Highness has started to view you in a better light when you dedicated yourself to cease the epidemic in Geidi Prime. There was a terrible spread of the black plague, stemming from rotten corpses to grass to trees to livestock. All had come to a stop because of your findings. Burning the dead with flame has been a custom ever since. It was clear that you possessed the qualities of intelligence, diligence, and efficiency. But what remained in the dark was your trustworthiness. So, he put you to the test by making you screen his food to detect any trace of malice, hoping your true nature would be revealed. The first few feasts were fine, intended to lower your guard. He then made Feyd bring out Safran Şerbeti. The cordial was undoubtedly spiked with venom as instructed by the Baron. The Baron suggested that you could waive the inspection of the gift brought by his nephew, as he wished to avoid straining the connection by revealing any distrust. But just from the sniff, you could tell that the drink was laced. You whispered to the Baron, 'Please do not take this drink, my lord.' Lord Harkonnen chuckled loudly. He beamed, 'Are you suspecting my heir? You must be out of your mind.' The Na-Baron added, 'Is this one of your dog's little tricks, uncle?' Feyd quirked to the Baron. 'Do you want to savor my uncle's exquisite food that much?' Feyd mocked with a baby voice. 'Don't touch that goblet, I beg of you,' you pleaded, ignoring Feyd's scoffing. The Baron shrugged you off, stretching his hand to fetch the golden liquid. You frantically snatched the chalice. 'Ha! Even your tail is wagging! This dog really wants to have a taste!' Feyd rubbed the salt to your wound. 'You left me no choice, my lord,' you surrendered. 'I will prove it to you that the lovely nephew of yours meant to take your life.' You drowned the whole goblet in one go. Consciousness left your body as the grail rolled on the floor. The world of black and white turned to a muddy grey. The Baron clapped, impressed by your devotion. You cleared all the rightful skepticism by putting your life before his and saving him. Once the Baron's trust was secured, your plan began.

#dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #dune fanfiction #dune x reader #dune x you

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bittersweet-folder · 2 months

Text

Lipstick stains for his pretty face ♡ (part 1?)

Pairing: Wen Junhui × fem reader (honestly this can be counted as a Wen Junhui × gender neutral reader too but there's a mention that reader is wearing a dress which some may not prefer but still letting y'all know)

Warning: nothing much just lots of kissing and little bit suggestive at the end.

I did proofread twice but if there's any grammatical errors lemme know!

Genre: fluff, a little suggestive at the end. | Song rec: Bambi by Baekhyun . | MASTERLIST

Word count: 798 | Let me know if y'all want a part 2🎀.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The date went well.

Jun unlocked the entrance door of the apartment you both shared.

"You go in first, madam" he said. A smirk laced on his lips afterwards. He couldn't take eyes off of you tonight. You looked exquisite clad in that black silky dress with that light makeup painted on your face. But now you also had his leather jacket on your shoulder. As soon as you entered the apartment which you both shared, he followed after you and locked the door. That followed his much awaited, impatient confession with him pinning you against the wall. Your eyes meet his.

"Can I kiss you? Please. You looked so gorgeous tonight, sweetheart" he had that sense of urgency laced in his voice while saying that.

"Yes. Of course" You smiled.

His hand touched and caressed your cheek making its way on the nape of your neck. Slowly, he closed the gap between your lips and his. His other arm went around your waist, closing the distance between your bodies. With your hands around his shoulders, your fingers find their way running through his hair. His lips were soft. He could slightly taste your lipstick. It was a pretty dark berry red shade which adorned your lips tonight. Your lips were moving in a perfect rhythm with his lips. You both were lost in the bliss of it as if it was not enough and you both craved more. The jacket dropped on the floor which made you both pull away from the kiss.

"Umm I think we should take this to the bedroom?" he asked.

You noticed the lipstick stain on his lips. Color smudging over his lip line a little bit. That's when something popped up in your head.

"Jun is it okay… if you take me to the bedroom and we do something I saw on YouTube a few days back" you hesitated at first but then said everything in one breath.

He let out a chuckle. "Of course we can my lady"

You let out a yelp in surprise when he lifted you up, proceeding towards the bedroom.

He made you straddle on his lap.

"So what is it?"

"Basically…" you kept your purse aside and searched up the video and showed it to him "this.. was what I was talking about.. can i do it? Pretty please Junhii" you said dragging on the last syllable.

"That's something new not gonna lie but yeah of course baby you can do that" his hands pulled you closer by your waist.

"Okay!" you grinned and took your lipstick out of your purse. After applying a fair amount of lipstick on your lips you kept your lipstick on the side. At first, he felt your soft, supple lips pressed on the corner of his lips, then it found its place on his cheek. Too many for the cheek because they look so plumped and adorable when he smiles. Then another one on the nose which made him giggle. Slowly you moved a bit below, now pressing kisses on his neck. Then you stopped to take a look at his face, which was now littered with plenty of red lip stains with a smirk laced on his lips.

"You look soo adorable" you said squealing.

"You've got lipstick on your nose" Jun smiled.

"You've got lip prints all over your pretty face" and then added "made by me" you said feeling content with the deed you did.

"So my face is pretty with the lip print or it's prettier without the lip print?"

You groaned "yahhh you're pretty either way!!"

"And you're my pretty," he moved dangerously close to your left ear and said in a lower voice "pretty girl" he said while moving one of his hands on your back, fiddling with the zipper of your dress. It felt warm yet ticklish when he whispered in your left ear and then you let out a breathy sigh.

"But wait-" You pulled away and then continued "we need to take a picture and then remove this off of your face I don't want you to have any kinda skin infection now" you said.

"Alright then! we're taking this to the shower baby!" Jun said as he lifted you up and walked towards the bathroom. "I hope you won't mind getting a little more wet than usual honey" he said, yet again, in a lower, deeper voice.

"I- I would honestly love it- a lot.." you stuttered. Your cheeks started burning up.

"Cat got your tongue now" Jun said, placing you on the countertop beside the sink, hands still placed on your waist now slowly moving to your lower back, massaging that area lightly.

It's gonna be a long night.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

A/n: hello everyone, it's been a while since I posted anything let alone write something. I just didn't wanted to force myself to write something. A lot has be going on and I gotta study too because my exams are coming up.

Thank you for your support🎀✨❤

Also I ain't tagging anyone here. This was literally a part of the performance unit imagine I was writing but then I thought of writing it as a separate fic. Next part would ofc be a smut fic☺🫣🫶 lemme know if y'all wanna be in the tag list for that.

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #wen junhui #moon junhui #junhui fluff #jun fluff #jun smut #junhui x reader #junhui smut #svt #svt performance unit

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feralbutfluffy · 6 months

Text

Give a Man a Mask

The man who caught Aziraphale’s eye was lounging rather indecorously on one of the many benches lining the walls of the ballroom. He (because despite every inch of them being covered, Aziraphale was sure it was a he) wore a well-tailored black velvet suit jacket that fit snuggly over a black waistcoat intricately embroidered with gunmetal filigree. Underneath the waistcoat, Aziraphale could just make out a black shirt and a flash of burgundy lace at the man’s throat. Black leather gloves laced up around his wrists, and matching knee-high boots fit snuggly over the man's fitted black trousers.

Aziraphale sighed with envy. He could never pull off something like that.

Of course - he told himself - it wasn’t the man necessarily that had caught his eye. It was the clothing; he had always noticed and admired fine clothing, and his outfit really was exquisitely made.

Besides, it was hard not to notice someone who had dressed in such stark contrast to the rest of the guests. It seemed everyone else was dressed to excess, resplendent in feathers and lace, gemstones and pearls. This man’s costume, by contrast, was downright modern; minimal but striking, yet still in keeping with Carnivale. The handstitched leather Plague Doctor mask beneath a black tricorn hat completed the look. It should have looked offputting, really...

It did not.

The man looked less like a man, Aziraphale thought, and more like a long black shadow curving against the wall. Aziraphale popped a fritelle into his mouth and chewed it slowly before swallowing.

If he was honest with himself (which he would prefer not to be, all things considered) he knew what had really attracted his attention; there was something about him - the lazy confidence evident in the way he was sitting, or the dark clothing perhaps - that made him think of Crowley. He hadn’t seen the demon in a few years, and although he was absolutely loathe to admit it even within the privacy of his own mind, he did rather miss him.

Well. He missed him and worried about him in equal parts. Handing over the thermos of Holy Water a few years before had certainly ramped up his anxiety.

He was extremely glad of his full-face volto mask as he watched the figure out of the corner of his eye. He popped another fritelle into his mouth under the mask, chewed, and swallowed with a little groan of pleasure. They really were delicious.

The Plague Doctor swiveled to face him as if he had heard him, and although there was no possible way the stranger could have heard anything of the sort from across the crowded ballroom, Aziraphale blushed ferociously. The heat of it was almost unbearable behind his full-face mask.

He turned his body away from the man, staring down at the sweet delights laid out on the banquet table, and tried very hard to ignore what felt like a heated stare. He gazed down at the galani, his mouth suddenly dry.

Although he was almost expecting it, the dark presence at his elbow a moment later made him start.

“Buonasera, come sta?” said the Plague Doctor in perfect Italian, tipping his hat in a quick formal bow.

Aziraphale had been right about it being a man.

He jerked back at the greeting, startled by the man’s sudden proximity, and scrambled for a reply.

“Oh! Buonasera!” Aziraphale could think of nothing else to say. He cringed behind his mask and wondered if he could miracle his way out of a conversation that was embarrassing before it had even begun.

The Plague Doctor was wearing a zendale beneath his tricorn, and the silk hood concealed every part of his head not covered by mask or hat. He tilted his head, looking like a curious raven, and rested both his gloved hands on top of a cane Aziraphale hadn’t noticed before. His tight grip - Aziraphale could see his knuckles straining against the leather of his gloves - obscured most of what looked like a beautifully carved gunmetal handle.

He looked up. The large eyesockets of the mask were filled with dark glass lenses, revealing absolutely nothing. Aziraphale smoothed down his more traditional costume. The cream and white concoction with gold embroidery and an abundance of lace ruffles had rather delighted him when he’d stepped out this morning, but it felt quite indulgent next to this austere creature.

“I trust you are enjoying yourself?” said the Plague Doctor in an extremely thick Italian accent, leaning forward on his cane so that the beak of his mask almost punctured his bubble of personal space.

“Oh yes, very much so!” Aziraphale nodded, wondering what had drawn this man to his side and how he could possibly reverse it. For all that he had been intrigued before, he hadn’t intended to actually engage the stranger in conversation. There was something extremely unsettling about him up close. Perhaps it was the costume, or the way he was standing; it was patient, watchful, almost… predatory.

Aziraphale shuddered, and the Plague Doctor’s head tilted the other way, making it clear he had noticed.

“Va bene, Signore?” Are you well?

Aziraphale nodded quickly. “Oh yes… Sto bene!” I am well. There was a brief pause while he summoned up formal Italian and hurriedly added a thank you. “La ringrazio!”

The Plague Doctor nodded. “How did you come to be here?” The words came low and slow, and Aziraphale felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his skin prickling with awareness.

He had always had a bit of a weakness for the Italian accent.

“It was suggested to me by the concierge at my hotel,” he smiled, even though the man couldn’t see it. “He thought I might enjoy it, and he was right! I am enjoying it tremendously! The food alone...!" He made an appreciative noise. "How did you…? Are you local to the area?”

A slight tilt of the head as if the Plague Doctor were considering his question. It was surprising how demonstrative he was able to be without a single facial expression.

“Not exactly,” he said, and Aziraphale thought he could hear a smile in his voice, “Although for tonight... Certo. If you like.”

The man swept into a much deeper, more theatrical bow than before. The black feather in his hat almost grazed Aziraphale’s chest. “This is my palazzo - my festa - and I am your host for the evening. You are…” he said, and straightened, holding out his hand. When Aziraphale hesitated, the man crooked his fingers impatiently and for some reason Aziraphale obeyed, quickly placing his white silk-gloved hand in the man’s leather-clad grip.

“... You are extremely welcome here,” the man finished, bringing Aziraphale's knuckles to his mask.

It didn’t seem to matter that there were no lips there to brush against his hand; Aziraphale felt it as if the man had kissed his knuckles open-mouthed. A dart of something hot and unutterable shot through him, flared up and burnt out, thankfully vanishing before Aziraphale had time to recognise it and panic.

“Yes. Well. Thank you. La ringrazio,” he said, feeling flustered.

“No need for such formality, Signore,” the Plague Doctor said warmly, tugging his hand without warning to bring them shoulder to shoulder. He tucked Aziraphale’s arm into the crook of his elbow and patted his hand as if to reassure him that it was alright.

Aziraphale thought that it was probably not alright.

Surely it was not alright to walk arm in arm with a total stranger? Surely there was something morally grey about taking a turn with a mortal Italian dandy who apparently owned a palazzo and, by extension, the many sweet treats Aziraphale had been helping himself to throughout the evening?

If nothing else, surely he should feel some guilt or shame about enjoying the closeness of a stranger who reminded him so much of Crowley?

#good omens fic #good omens fanfic #ineffable idiots #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #mutual pining #they're morons your honour #happy halloween #good omens fanfiction #good omens oneshot #through the ages #aziracrow #not halloween but close enough #oiche samhain #because I'm struggling #Aziraphale in Venice #why not #ineffable #good omens

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theseimmortalcoils · 9 months

Text

Delicate black lace thigh high boots. Source unknown.

#gothic style #black & white photography #gothic elegance #black lace boots #deliate lace boots #thigh high boots #thigh boots #very long boots #exquisite things

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

Note

Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw.

Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way.

more from the vampire!au

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me vampire au #obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #barbatos smut #obey me barbatos x mc #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x you #barbatos x you #obey me fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

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levilxvr · 5 months

Text

good morning its 2:30 am and im thinking about levi fingering you while you’re out for dinner with the other cadets🤗

cw: nsfw 18+

you’re at a hotel having dinner with levi and the rest, seated around a long table catching up over the exquisite food prepared by colt and his team of chefs. You’re chatting with mikasa, laughing at connie and jean as they bicker and throw food at each other. Jean dumps a blob of cake icing onto connie’s steak and seconds later the peas on his plate go straight into jean’s wine.

While hange is getting them to shut up because everyone is staring at them, you feel a cold hand slip under the hem of your black dress, knuckles stroking the soft, sensitive skin of your thigh. You whip your head around and see levi staring at you with a lustful gaze and a knowing smirk. The chaos around you drowns out as he leans in and presses a light kiss to your earlobe. “shh, don’t say a word.”

You’re squirming in your seat as his hand travels higher, slender fingers feeling around as they push the delicate lace of your panties aside and brush against your folds. You’re trying to ignore him and answer when sasha offers you another baked potato. Under the table, you try and fail to cross your legs, levi’s strong hand pushing your thighs apart as he continues teasing you. His fingers are on your clit now, rubbing circles over the small bud as you feel your core begin to heat up.

“So, how are things going with levi lately? I heard next week is your one year anniversary, Congrats!” Mikasa swirls her wine and gives you a small smile.

“We should have another celebration for that,” hange adds.

“It- yeah it’s been alright,” you start, breath hitching when he applies more pressure, roughly toying with your already swollen clit as his other hand stabs a roasted carrot with his fork. You shot him a glare and he simply smiles. Idiot.

“Do you guys have any plans for next week?” eren asks.

“go on, tell him about our little getaway.” levi gives them a pleasant, innocent little smile, taking another bite of carrot. The little shit was good at acting- who’s to know his other hand was buried in your underwear, drenched in your slick?

You begin filling them in on the details of your 3 day vacation next week in one of marley’s most popular cities, but it gets harder to ignore the burning pleasure accumulating between your legs when he slips not one but two fingers into your tight cunt at once. He’s curling them against your sweet spot, feeling your walls clench and unclench around him.

“we’re uh- we booked a slot at the hotel infinity pool too,” Your legs were trembling under the table and you could feel the heat rising up your cheeks.

“you ok? you look kinda flustered.” armin’s voice is laced with concern and he has a frown on his face. You force a smile and fiddle with the edge of the silken tablecloth.

“no, no its fine I think it’s just the wine, you know,” holy shit. You’re so close you can barely focus anymore. Fortunately connie knocks his glass over and makes everyone divert their attention to him, so you can let out the small, shaky moan that’s been at the tip of your tongue since he started with this little game. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as you finally cum, riding his fingers as discreetly as possible as your legs shake from the orgasm. You could feel the warm, slippery liquid begin to drip out of your hole, pooling between your thighs. You’re praying that it’s not too much and you can get away with it when you stand up later.

levi kisses your cheek and you can feel him smile against your skin. “good girl, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me when we get back to our room later. Promise.”

#levi ackerman smut #levi x reader smut #levi smut #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #hehe i like this #levi x fem!reader

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misafiryanki · 6 months

Text

Dirty pictures - Tomura Shigaraki x f!Reader

Word count: 813 Plot: You and Tomura engage in some provocative messaging while he's in a meeting with the rest of the League of Villains. You tease him with enticing lingerie picture Warnings: sexting, handjob, masturbation A/N: I appreciate the opportunity to participate in this fantastic writing experience. It's been quite some time since I last wrote anything. Wishing everyone a joyful and sizzling Kinktober! Masterlist can be found here My prompt was: lingerie

What are you wearing?

Not a minute passes before he senses the vibration against Tomura's palm, eliciting a fond eye-roll at the response.

If I spill the details, you'll go wild during the meeting, Shiggy

Shigaraki begrudgingly finds himself at yet another League of Villains meeting, an event he is growing increasingly weary of attending. After all, he is the one in charge, the undeniable leader of the operation. He views the rest of the members as his "puppets," and he hopes that they can handle some planning and decision-making without his constant presence. But, as usual, his expectations are dashed.

The frustration bubbles within him as he contemplates the necessity of his presence in these gatherings. It seems too much to ask for the League to function autonomously, and Shigaraki can't help but think that this is just another instance of life's cruel irony.

It's a risky proposition, a genuinely terrible one, but he's already in the process of unbuttoning his pants under the table. After all, nobody can see him from his concealed vantage point, and nobody requires his attention at this moment as the rest of the League immersed themselves in a fiery conversation.

I’m already jerking off

Shigaraki despises the stark coldness of the text, yearning to utter these words aloud, longing to dial your number right there and then. He could do it by sneaking into the bathroom, but he's already here, immersed in this moment.

Then a picture arrives, and Tomura has to stifle a groan as his hand encircles his rigid arousal. You're adorned in a black garter belt, stockings, and lingerie. The choice of lingerie is understated, exquisite, and tasteful – perfectly in line with your fiery personality. It exudes elegance and sensuality, alluring without being ostentatious.

Are you touchin' yourself right now, babe?

I’m so wet for you, Tomura ♥

Show me, now

He can't help but appreciate the meticulously crafted design, those delicate black straps connecting the lacy knee-high stockings to the fabric of the garter belt cinched around your waist. He maintains a steady, deliberate rhythm, avoiding any haste that might lead to a premature climax. He's torn; part of him wants to save this arousal for you, to build it up until he can release it all over you – your chest, your mouth. But he's also eager to tease himself, yearning for the sight of you equally aroused so that when he does finally unleash, you'll both be consumed by desire.

His gaze drifts upward to your breasts, tantalizingly displayed in the image. They're barely concealed beneath a gossamer layer of lace, the faintest hint of a pink nipple just barely visible. Aroused tension coils in the pit of his stomach.

Another picture arrives, this one zoomed in on your body, your hand nestled between your thighs. There's no bra or panties this time, just that tantalizing strip of lace and nylon, and it has him tilting his head back against the chair with a grunt. Glistening wetness gleams on your fingers, forming sultry strands from your core to your knuckles. He moistens his lips with the tip of his tongue, his gaze fixated on the image.

Little does he know, Toga glances up at him from time to time, her eyebrow cocked slightly as she senses that something is rather off with her boss.

You look so fuckin' hot baby, can’t wait to fuck that pussy

He quickens the pace of his strokes, just a tad faster. Tomura's yearning to lose himself between your thighs, to savor every drop of your arousal with his eager tongue. And he will, no doubt, he just needs to exercise a bit more patience. It seems you share the same insatiable desire because a text arrives at lightning speed:

I need you; when will the meeting be over?

Not for another hour. How many times do you think you can cum before then?

How many times do you want me to?

He grins mischievously, gives his cockhead a gentle twist, slowing himself down. His breaths come a little too ragged, and waves of delicious pleasure lap at his abdomen. Eventually, he comes to a halt, tucking his throbbing length back into his dark pants. He shifts in his seat, allowing the friction of his boxers to provide a slight but welcome sensation until he can feel your lips around him once more.

No less than four, I want you all sloppy

He shakes his head, a warm smile gracing his lips, as another picture arrives. Your hardened nipples are on full display, one hand firmly squeezing one of them.

For the remainder of the meeting with the League of Villains, he repeatedly revisits the messaging app, allowing it to fuel his desire for you, for your enticing body. Especially when you concluded the conversation with:

Yes, Shigaraki Tomura, I'm all fucking yours, Master

#kinktobercollab‘23 #kinktober 2023 #bnha smut #mha smut #tomura shigaraki #minors dni #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader smut #shigaraki tomura #x reader smut

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xythlia · 6 months

Text

11:17 PM

𓏲 ࣪₊sfw fluff, alcohol consumption, semi public make out, everything mentioned is based loosely on the carnegie museum of art in pittsburgh since it's the one I've been to the most

› for my lovely io @elusivemoon <3

"Look at this, they have the Panorama films on display," you said, grabbing his hand to drag Satoru over to the display.

He'd purchased tickets to the museum of arts twenty one and over night, an evening of art and wine as a surprise for you after spending too long away from you, all the demands of being the strongest tugging him out of your reach.

The gallery was hushed despite the crowd, at most gentle murmurs would roll through the mingling people taking in the displays and special exhibitions. He knew you loved this sort of thing, and while he wasn't particularly well versed in art it was more about seeing your eyes light up and hearing your commentary on the pieces around you.

You looked ethereal in the low lighting, a glass of white wine in one hand and his clasped in the other, your eyes eagerly taking in every detail of the gallery. It was especially cute how alcohol tended to make you far more easily excitable, making an easy grin sweep across his lips as he took you in.

"Hm, I thought you'd be more into the physical medium stuff," he said, taking a sip of his own glass. The dryness of the wine did little to detract from the sheer sweetness of your eyes.

"Well I love it all, but the film displays are always exciting. Once they had one that flickered stars in the pitch black with this droning synth, it was beautiful and so disorienting." You spoke in a whispered smile.

Beautiful and disorienting, he knew something about that. The thought made him squeeze your hand involuntarily, thumb caressing the back of it.

You both continued on the pre-set trail of displays, most of the museum was off limits since it was technically after hours. Over the rim of his glass he spotted the sign for the hall of statues, notably closed as well it's lights dimmed and a lone security guard wandering down the marbled hall.

Lacing his fingers tighter with yours he gently guided you to turn around, softly hushing your protests until he drew your attention to the sign.

"Wanna see the statues?" He leaned to brush his lips against your cheek, making you giggle softly.

"I was pretty sure you knew how to read 'Toru," you teased, gesturing with your glass to the small closed sign off to the side of the hallway entrance.

"Hmm must be the wine," he said softly, lightly pulling you along despite your hushed protests.

"There's a guard we're not getting in there," you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

In a second his long legged stride sped up, pulling you along clumsily as he ducked around the corner and into a semi dark room full of grand white statues, the matte marble still managing to glow despite the lack of direct illumination.

Your protests trailed off into silence. It really was exquisite, furtively admiring the lovingly carved pieces in silence. It felt like you two were the only people in the world at that moment, the thrill of a stolen secret joining the wine to create a soft warmth in your chest.

"They're all so..." you trailed off, too engrossed in the rows of lifelike depictions.

"Beautiful," he stated, pulling you to face him, nearly flush against him.

The world felt frozen, like a film reel stopped on one frame stretching out eternally. His eyes, those overwhelming blues, locked with your own as his hand came up to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushed so gingerly against your lips you could almost say you were imagining it.

With a fumbling hand you tenderly gripped the side of his jacket, meeting him as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss that tasted of white wine and sparkling joy. His hand slid around your back, upwards to cup the base of your head as you leaned back, the kiss devolving into something more desperate edged with longing.

In that room, surrounded by the blank eyes of dozens of figures frozen in their own eternity, it was as though you'd both slipped through some secret, hidden seam to a place of hushed reverence wrapped in adoration. A place for only the two of you.

His tongue ran across your own like he was a cartographer mapping a brand new region, and the slight scrape of his nails against your scalp made you shiver despite the warmth of the museum. Just as you were running your hand up beneath his shirt, feeling the firm planes of muscle that the spell was broken, like a shattered mirror.

"Hey! Sections closed," a gruff, aged voice called from the front of the room.

Guiltily you jerked back from him, your ears burning and your lips feeling ever so slightly swollen as your grip on your glass nearly faltered, almost sending it hurtling towards the shiny tiled floor.

"Sorry, we got a little off track," Satoru said, smiling as he took your hand again to lead you both back towards the main display area.

The guard, an older man whose eyes held no annoyance smiled back, shaking his head. "Better make your way back to the main floor, they're about finished up for the night."

You both thanked him, though you did duck your head shyly as you passed the embarrassment of being caught like two naughty kids still lingered over you. In a blur your glasses were returned to the table, warm good nights were uttered by staff as Satoru pushed the heavy glass and metal doors open, letting a burst of frigid night air roll over you.

As it settled in your lungs you tipped your head back and laughed, a full rich sound that glittered in the near empty street.

Bathed in the warm glow of street lights he couldn't help but laugh with you, ignoring the bite of winter against his cheeks, hoping against all hope that he could make you even half as joyful for as long as you'd let him.

#satoru gojo x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru x reader #jjk x you

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Note

Can you do one where reader goes shopping with Rhys and he just spoils the hell out of reader? Like every time their gaze lingers for a second too long on a item he just buys it.

I would totally take his ass to a bookstore a load up on all of the books lol

Retail Therapy

Rhysand x reader

A/n: I too would take his ass to a bookstore and get everything I see. I literally dream about Rhys being my sugar daddy he would be the best at spoiling anyone. Sorry this is a short one

Warnings: a lil suggestive

Rhys had decided to pamper you today. The day started with a very pleasurable morning in bed. Then a full breakfast that and insisted you sit in his lap while he fed you.

After breakfast he had some work to do. “Relax, read for a while and then I’ll be back darling.” He said, kissing your forehead and heading for his office.

Only a half hour later Rhys was back and ushering you out the door towards town. “Rhysie, what are we doing in town?” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “Today is all about you my darling. Anything you want it’s yours.”

You squeal, hugging him tight. Rhys chuckles at how cute your reaction is. “Where would you like to go first?” Looking around the section of shops you spot a bookstore. You pull Rhys by the hand into the store.

Going up and down the aisles Rhys stares at you with a stupid lovesick smile, his violet eyes sparkling at your joy. You pick books up off the shelves until you and Rhys can’t hold anymore and go check out. The cashier bags them up for you and Rhys tells her to charge his account.

He holds all your bags for you as you race from store to store. From clothing, cosmetics, and little trinkets Rhys said yes to it all. You even got a little surprise for him later tonight.

Once you had done all the shopping you could, Rhys took you to your favorite cafe. You got an iced cinnamon vanilla latte to go so you could enjoy it on your walk home. You and Rhys walk arm in arm, you look up at him sipping on your drink.

Breaking out into a wide smile you lean your head against his shoulder. He pulls you in as close as he can with all the bags on his arms, dropping his head on yours.

When you got home Rhys had more work to do leaving you to unpack all your new purchases. You organized your new books on the shelves in your room. Then your new cosmetics and skincare. And finally, you hung up your new clothes stashing Rhys’ little surprise away for later.

Hours later Rhys calls you down for dinner. The twins weren't around and neither was your family. “Where is everyone?” Rhys sets the plates down on the table, his arms snaking around you from behind.

“I was a little selfish and told everyone that we were having an us night.” Turning in his grasp your hands play with the hair on the back of his head. “Aww my big Illyrian baby. So clingy today.” Pulling Rhys’ face down to yours so you can give his lips little pecks.

Just like breakfast, he pulls you to sit in his lap and once again insists on feeding you the meal he worked so hard. When you were done Rhys stood with you in his arms.

Back in your room, you shimmy out of Rhys’ hold. “Sit on the bed and close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.” Rhys strides over to the large bed, sitting and dramatically covering his eyes with his hands.

Hurrying into your closet you pull out the black see-through, lace lingerie set you bought today. Quickly changing into the set you stick your head out of the closet, catching Rhys peaking between his fingers.

“Hey! No peaking.” He laughs and closes his fingers. You strut out, stopping between his spread thighs. You pull his hands away from his face. “Open,” you whisper. Rhys’ eyes go wide at the sinful sight. His eyes becoming more black than violet.

“Do you like it?” His breath catches in his throat. “You look exquisite darling.” Rhys’ tongue darts across his lower lip, hands moving to hold your hips.

Straddling him you push Rhys’ chest so he lays flat on the bed. As you hover over him you trace the swirling tattoos on his exposed golden chest. “Will you take it off for me baby?” making your voice small and giving him a fake pout.

An excited growl escapes Rhys’ mouth as he gives you a feline grin. “Of course darling.” He flips you over and begins kissing down your body.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand imagine #rhysand x you #rhysand fluff

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purriteen · 2 months

Text

Ad victor spolia, chapter five

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years), somnophilia

author’s note: it's been like a month but have this double release I'm feeling generous (crappy proofreading/editing, be warned)

word count: 3,476

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Your head is throbbing from the hangover. You only vaguely recognise the room you're in, with the large Palladian windows and exquisite furniture you're pretty sure it's the master bedroom, and the arm that drapes over your torso as you realise your back is pressed against a warm, distinctly male body.

You're startled at first, and when you turn around to find that it's Coriolanus, in a pair of pyjama pants and a loose sleeping shirt, you hardly feel any better about the situation. It takes you a minute to register that he's awake, blush spreading on your cheeks like wildfire when his eyes meet yours.

You feel so exposed like this, groggy and hungover, in the now wrinkled black slip dress that offers you little coverage. You can't even remember taking your ballgown off in the first place.

"Silia? You're finally awake. I was worried about you, after what happened last night," He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Without all that product in it, his curls have returned. He must've had time to shower sometime between your blackout and now.

Your brows furrow, anxiety building in your chest at his words. "What do you mean, after what happened last night..?" You inquire, although you're not sure you want to know. The whole scenario looks so incredibly wrong. But you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt - how likely is it really that anything would've happened?

Even if it weren't so immoral and disgusting, your brother being intimate with anyone is just unthinkable to you. At most, he'd probably have attended one of those decadent gentlemen's clubs, if he didn't have so much to lose, being the President and all.

The thought appalls you - but it's not just the idea of him partaking in exploiting the less fortunate women in the Capitol, there's something more to it that you can't quite put your finger on. You push it aside for now; you have bigger, more urgent problems to deal with.

He appears deep in thought for a second, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly. "Coryo? What happened last night?" You repeat, this time with more urgency in your voice. You shift into a sitting position, your thoughts running wild with ideas of whatever awful thing could have landed you here, making it impossible for you to stay in that half-asleep state.

He finally looks up at you, stretching out one of his hands to stroke your cheekbone. There's something about the look on his face that makes him seem pained, wounded.

"You got.. very intoxicated. One of my men found you in the corridor just outside the ballroom, with a low-ranking gamemaker. They caught him red-handed, trying to.. to take advantage of you."

His words start to sink in, and a wave of nausea washes over you at the thought.

Someone had tried to force themselves onto you.

Someone who was likely a friend or at least a colleague of Remus. Who'd possibly even worked with your brother at one point, when he was a gamemaker intern.

"I'm so sorry, Hersilia, I shouldn't have let you get so drunk in the first place, I had your glass checked for any trace of drugs, of being laced with anything, but the lab couldn't find anything. I should've kept a closer eye on you, protected you from anyone who might even think of laying a hand on you.." His voice trembles, and you're surprised to see your brother so raw, so different from his usually so very controlled self. You hardly even recognise him, but you can't help but think that you should be used to it by now.

You find yourself in a tight embrace, feeling both unsettled by his strong arms wrapping around you like a vice, a snake, yet somehow safer. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to speak.

"Did.. did he do anything?" You try not to let your fright show, but your voice comes out a hoarse whisper. He finally lets go, and shoots you a concerned, puzzled look. He takes a deep breath before talking again. "How much do you actually remember of what happened? You were barely conscious when they brought me to you."

You try and think it over. But the last thing you remember is sneaking off to the powder room to gossip with an old classmate of yours. Idesta Harrington. She'd been a childhood friend, although you hadn't stayed in touch since you seemed to run in different circles once you'd gone off to the Academy.

Although a lot had changed, she was one of the few whom Coriolanus did not deem 'beneath the Snow name' or otherwise not suitable to be around you. You knew he'd been in the same grade as her older brother, nicknamed Pup, too. You couldn't for the life of you remember anything distinct about him.

"Everything after I went to the ladies room with Dessie is just.. gone. Blank. Don't remember any of it," You try to speak, but this time a sob gets caught in your throat, the shame and shock you felt threatening to spill over.

Coriolanus takes note of this. He's relieved, but not particularly surprised that you believe him. It very well could have happened anyways - with how wasted and vulnerable you'd been. He'd have to figure out how to deal with the imaginary attacker later.

Perhaps he'd have to choose from one of the actual gamemakers to banish to the districts, or he could take one of the few Capitol-born traitors currently awaiting punishment. He'd have to probe doctor Gaul for which member of the team she'd be least upset about losing.

Whatever he needed to do to show you that he would always be the one to keep you safe, to reinforce what he already knew but had yet to get through your disgracefully thick skull. Truthfully, Coriolanus didn't know why he was so protective over you sometimes.

"You were discovered before he could do anything to really hurt you. I would've never forgiven myself if.." He trails off, letting you believe he struggled to even say it aloud. It worked as intended, and you practically throw yourself into his arms, gripping his shoulder tight.

"It's not your fault, Coryo," You insist, sobs wracking through you as you hold onto him.

He didn't necessarily enjoy seeing you so frightened, so distressed, but he felt powerful like this. You had never once made him feel unsure or lesser than in the way Lucy Gray did. You were so much easier, safer to love. He relished the feeling.

"I know, dove. But I was so worried," He sighs, petting your hair as your head rests on his shoulder, burrowing into his pale neck. You allow the almost overwhelming, but familiar scent of roses that followed him around to comfort you somewhat.

"I didn't want you to sleep alone, I'm sorry, I just couldn't let you out of my sight. My conscience wouldn't let me," He kisses the top of your head, and you nod in understanding.

You don't question even for a second that what he's saying is the truth. You hadn't seen him so distressed ever. Even when he sat you down and explained that he had enlisted all those years ago, or the prospect of selling the penthouse, he had been more so embarrassed and shut-off than distressed, like he was now.

You find yourself thinking that maybe you'd misjudged him. Maybe, he was just as damaged and conflicted as you, rather than evil through and through. Torn between his protective, caring instincts and the ruthlessness his career of choice demanded. You try to scour your emotions, looking for anything that stood out or suggested otherwise, but you find nothing tangible.

Something about the situation still feels wrong, though. You just can't figure out what. You chalk it down to the shock of finding out about the danger you'd been rescued from last night. Everything he'd said made perfect sense in your head - he'd even respected you enough to leave your clothes on, instead of giving you the bath you truthfully needed by now. And why would he lie about such an awful thing? He wouldn’t go that far.

As he cradled your trembling form in his arms, you knew that this, this was the Coriolanus you cherished and loved. The one who made you feel so safe and doted on and adored, even in the darkest of times. For the first time in many years he felt like the Coryo you remembered from your childhood again.

A couple weeks had passed since then. The two of you had grown closer, largely thanks to Coriolanus' unwillingness to let you leave his side. You couldn't blame him for that, though - he seemed perhaps even more traumatised by what happened that night than yourself. You couldn't bear the thought of worrying him even more, and since you didn't have much to do anyways, you complied. You figured the paranoia would fade sooner or later.

But he'd taken it a step further by insisting on assigning you security detail for whenever he wasn't around as well, even inside the house. You'd grown quite fond of the first one he assigned, Salomon, though you just called him Sal for short. He was around your brother’s age, short but stocky, with buzzed chestnut brown hair that appeared reddish in the sunlight. You knew because he'd always follow you around on the sunny afternoons you spent tending to the part of the garden Coriolanus had allowed you to make your own. You'd enjoyed listening to his anecdotes from 'back home', which in his case was district four. It was so unlike your life in the Capitol.

But one day, Salomon was gone, just as you'd started to really warm up to him. In his place was a tall, broad-shouldered man who appeared to be in his thirties, but his face was rough, hardened and his storm grey eyes, devoid of any pop of colour, looked as if he himself might as well have witnessed the chain of disastrous events that had led to North America becoming Panem. A cold, cut-throat military man. He was a man of few words, watching over you like a hawk and bringing an uncomfortable, prickly tension with his presence into your everyday life.

You attempted to bring it up with your brother over dinner. He'd coolly explained that it was for your own safety - Salomon had only been a placeholder until he had found someone better suited to keep you safe, someone he could fully entrust with your safety. Still, you'd pleaded your case of how you missed the company Sal provided, and Coriolanus promised you that he would find more time for you outside of work to make up for it personally.

He didn't seem to grasp the concept of you desiring a social life outside of him, which was beyond concerning, but for now you figured that was the best you would achieve. After months of feeling so confused and nothing short of isolated, you were much too exhausted to risk going back to that by confronting him.

Although the both of you had warmed up to each other more as of late, he was still rigid in his decisions - Coriolanus always needed to have the last word. You tried to accept him as he was, and you even felt as though he might be letting up on his sometimes overly controlling tendencies on his own. Just a little bit, enough to give you a spark of hope.

However private Centho, as you'd come to find out he was called, even after a week, still brought malaise to your life every time you had to be alone with him. You couldn't bear it. Finally, you'd come to an agreement with your brother - inside the safety of the presidential palace, you would be allowed privacy. No more security detail. You figured the storm had blown over by now and that was that.

Yet, now that he could no longer station someone outside your bedroom door at night, the deal came with the condition that you would instead sleep in his every night. He had arranged for the staff to bring you a spare bed that was placed a couple feet away from his own. But somehow you always woke up to find yourself snuggled up to him every morning, without fail.

At first you told yourself it was just the winter chill. His bedroom was large and airy with massive windows, so you figured that made the most sense. But the snow had started to melt away bit by bit already, and regardless, you were provided with infinite warm pyjama sets and bedding. That was no excuse.

Perhaps it was the size and roughness of the mattress. It was of the highest quality you'd find in a folding bed, but it didn't compare to the comfort offered by the plush, extravagant bed you'd grown accustomed to. You wondered if you were starting to become spoiled.

The whole situation reminded you of a book you'd read when you were little, one of the many that you had been forced to burn in the fireplace to keep warm during the dark days. It was about a princess who'd been tested to see if she was noble enough to marry a lonely foreign prince, using a single pea that was placed under tens of mattresses stacked on top of each other. If she was worthy, she'd feel the pea when she laid down through all of those layers.

You'd imagined that one day, when your family was by some miracle no longer dirt poor, you might get to marry a 'prince' too. Of course, there was no such thing as royalty in Panem. That belonged in the old world. Here, you didn't need a title to be important - you needed money and influence.

Finally, you'd had to come to the conclusion that in truth, it was his warmth, his embrace that you were after. He was often too busy for you in the daytime, and although you enjoyed getting to spend more time with Eugenie again, you wanted him. It was his company you were after.

You'd missed out on so much when you were little - first, he was always studying, and then after he'd graduated the academy, he was all about both studying and building his career. You wanted to finally get a chance to bond with him, properly this time. The real him.

But once he brings you to the cell your supposed attacker is being held in, you begin to feel that perhaps, he's just as unpleasant if not more beneath the surface.

You vaguely recognise the man, although you can't quite put your finger on it.

Then it hits you like a bucket of ice falling over your head. Romulus. Romulus Dolittle, the youngest son of your former neighbours. He'd been your first friend, you first crush, your first and only kiss. Even if it had just been a quick peck.

Despite the glass wall separating you from the gaunt, bludgeoned prisoner you once called your friend, you can tell he knows exactly who you are, too.

"This, is Romulus Dolittle. You might remember him from the Corso, before his family moved away. Regardless," Coriolanus is clear-spoken and seems entirely unfazed at the sight of the bloody pulp right before your eyes, as if this was a daily occurrence for him.

You can feel bile rising in your throat at the thought that it very well could be - is your brother the one who did this to him? Had he personally made the poor man's life a living hell on the daily?

"You don't expect me to believe that he attacked me, do you?" You interrupt before you can even consider your words. Coriolanus' jaw ticks as he turns to look at you, and you feel as if you want to crawl out of your own skin.

He puts on a cold, thin-lipped smile. When he speaks again it's in an overly calm, smooth tone, as if explaining a complicated subject to a small, petulant child.

"If you had let me finish, you'd know that he is not here under suspicion of attacking you. He was involved in a rebel conspiracy." He explains, the disdain in his voice as he utters those last two words barely concealed.

Your fingernails dig into the skin of your palms as you resist the urge to claw your brother's eyes out. The hint of a self-satisfied smirk in his eyes tells you he knows just as well that the bloody pulp of a man was innocent.

"Why are you showing me this?" You manage to keep a steady tone, feigning nonchalance as best as possible. And although he plays along, you can tell Coriolanus is not buying it. He turns away from you again, facing the glass barrier separating you from the supposed traitor once more.

"Because, Hersilia. You must understand, that even those you trust the most, even your oldest friends, will betray you and everything that the Capitol stands for, if they believe it is in their best interest." He begins, and the urge to tear the flesh off of his smug face returns for a brief moment.

Then you watch as two peacekeepers enter the cell, dragging Romulus out in chains.

"Tomorrow, after he has been cleaned up, the very first public execution in the history of the Capitol will take place."

The whole encounter left you in a state of shock. Once you'd returned to the manor and finally calmed down a bit, your brother had played the recording of Romulus' confessing to the crime, although you could tell by how hoarse his voice that he'd been screaming before. It was likely brought on by torture at the hands of the peacekeepers guarding him.

You could tell Coriolanus was trying to twist the situation in his favour, as he always did. But this was all too much. You felt as if he was taking you on a sick rollercoaster that would only lead you into your impending death.

You knew you couldn't go on like this. You had to do something about it. But how?

Meanwhile, Coriolanus could feel you slipping away from him. He must've taken it too far, and above anything too soon, with showing you Romulus' fate. He thought he could take advantage of your inevitable breakdown to reinforce his status as being the one to comfort you and care for you no matter what, but it seemed that this time, he couldn't.

He did everything he could, against your will he held you as you cried until your eyes dried up, allowed you to wander about the house more freely, he had even given you permission to go into town without him again so long as you brought someone with you. And Centho was finally off your back no matter the unease he felt at being unable to watch over you through that man's observations.

He'd instead opted to give you a diary of sorts to write your thoughts down in, an elegant black leather book with a silver padlock and your name engraved in cursive. Hersilia Honoria Snow. He figured that if you were going to insist on shutting yourself off from him, you might instead turn to something else, and he would much rather see to it that he was in control of that variable rather than give you true freedom.

But, you refused to write anything, and the spare key he had neglected to tell you about only provided him with two hundred blank pages worth of insight.

You had stopped making small talk with him almost entirely. All you did was ask too many questions about Romulus, asking to see Tigris, trying to convince him to let you spend time with Persephone and Remus again. He had to remind you that Remus and his family was only spared from execution because of the scandal their deaths would otherwise cause, and that quickly shut you up. Coriolanus doubted the man would be keen on spending time with someone who falsely accused his little brother and got him killed regardless.

He on the other hand was pleased to have smashed two birds with one stone. No more cannibal friends, no more sleeping on your own and leaving him in the dark. But he needed you to trust him again. Everything had been going so well until now.

So he gave in. You would finally get to see your dear cousin again and get some well needed answers.

Well, you wouldn't get any of those, but you didn't need to know that. Yet.

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