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joelsgreys · 1 year

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Just Friends (Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags 🏷 18+ only, minors dni. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be.

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration.

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men.

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date.

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time.

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña.

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb.

Of course he knew Valeria.

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different.

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you.

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things.

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home.

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you.

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse.

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.”

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again.

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed.

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him.

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole.

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you.

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him.

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.”

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile.

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good.

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch.

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier.

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin.

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him.

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide.

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor.

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him.

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen.

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself.

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true.

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge.

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely.

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you.

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come.

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release.

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely.

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants.

“J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder.

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—”

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you.

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow?

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña angst #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier peña smut #narcos smut #javier pena smut

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gumiluver · 3 months

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TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS! ~ JUJUTSU KAISEN

synopsis: what happens when two pretty best friends get you in their grasp?

cover pic credit: k1tty_4ndy on pinterest |border credit: @/cafekitsune

lovers <3: gojo satoru x afab!reader x geto suguru

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!)

cw: nsfw, pwp, fingering, oral (f. receiving), manhandling, threesome (mfm), dirty talk (suguru’s a slut with his words), squirting, pet names

an: hope y’all enjoy! I’m considering making this a series with different jjk!best friend pairings!…lmk if you guys would be interested in smthn like that <3

“Ohh, do that again—she likes that,” Suguru groans, enchanted by the way your pretty eyes cross in a haze of lust-filled bliss. He’s got you in between his legs, a fistful of your hair in his grasp, making you angle your head up towards him so he can gaze upon your innocent face and watch it slowly morph into the fucked out cumslut he knows his good girl is.

“Hah, ‘course she does,” Gojo snickers, reveling at how your sweet pussy drips oh so deliciously for him.

“It’s ‘cause of me isn’t it, princess? You like when your ‘toru touches you right…” he trails off, creating an even deeper ache in your already pulsing cunt. He slowly weaves his index and middle finger through your folds to find your dripping core and finishes off his remark with a thrust of his fingers,”…here.”

“Ngghhh—fuuuck!!” you cry, overtaken by the intrusion of Satoru’s fingers that were, yet again, making their way into your gummy walls. His fingers move with purpose and certainty, hooking them toward your plush womb with the sole intention of abusing that spongy spot that makes you weep for him.

You felt like you were suffocating. Geto’s firm grip on your hair and neck leaves you squirming in his hold, but he’s quick to put you back in your place, “be good for us sweetheart, I’d hate to have to punish you so soon,” he chides, secretly hoping that you’d start to lose your rationality and step out of line. The shiver that rides along your spine doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru, and he takes pride in knowing how his words sway you towards submission.

It seems like Satoru was able to read his best friend's intentions and wanted nothing more than to aid him in your descent, noting how Suguru’s clenched jaw and bulging arm veins hold him hostage from his true desires. He could see the sheer restraint that his best friend was holding onto, and Gojo would be lying if he said he wasn’t holding himself back as well.

Because fuck—look at ya.

Your head was thrown back, sheer ecstasy written on your face as Satoru quickened his pace, effectively fingering you into an early orgasm that had you squirting all over the two. The moans and cries you let out have both men grunting like animals, humping up into the air to gain some sort of friction on their sensitive cocks. Your hips sway in tandem with Satoru’s fingers, making both men become hypnotized by the very essence of your being. Both men drooling like fucking dogs, waiting to sink their teeth into you, waiting for your beck n’ call. The glistening sheen that radiates from your body resembles an innocent-like aura, just begging to be corrupted—and corrupt they shall.

Satoru’s already conjured up his own sick and twisted plans, wanting to get you an all fours to fuck you from behind while watching his pretty best friend fuck his lover's mouth.

And of course, Suguru had his own salacious desires, aching to see you split on top of his dick as he watches his pretty best friend jerk off at the sight of him fucking you.

And you? Well, you’d be happy if either of them would hurry up and fuck you already—the endless teasing starting to weave between the lines of pleasure and pain. Satoru continues to overstimulate your poor cunt and Suguru’s grip on you makes you yearn for something harder—something rougher.

Satoru’s ability of forethought seemed to have played in your favor as well, seeing as he can’t help but gaze at your sweet cunt that’s just begging to be filled. You can see his cock strain against his boxer briefs, an occasional twitch or two catching your attention and making you drool—wanting to taste his heavy tip.

Your gaze is hyper-fixated on Satoru’s cock now, your body moving forward—like a magnet being drawn to its force. But before you could even reach him, you feel yourself get pulled back into Suguru’s chest, “Ah—ah—ah, where do you think you’re going, pretty girl? Did you forget about me?”

You look up towards Suguru again, puppy dog eyes on full display to convey your innocence, “n-no!! I’d never forget you Sugu~” you cry, reaching up to place a warm hand on his cheek. You look over to Satoru who’s watching the two of you intently and beckon him over, wanting to please both your lovers equally, “Just wanna feel you—both of you.”

And who were they to deny their precious baby? The one and only person that could make them drop to their knees and beg for just a simple taste of you. The single most important person in the world to them. And most importantly, the only person that they are willing to share and love, together.

“Mmmm—fuckin’ love hearin’ you cry for us, such a desperate little thing. Isn’t that right, Satoru?” Suguru says, a cocky smirk adorning his face as he sees your blush darken over your cheeks. He squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, loving the way your plump limps perk together for him to kiss and suck on.

“Mhm~, poor baby’s just drippin’ for us,” Satoru responds, lowering his head down towards your cunt. Before you can protest, before you can even beg for their cocks, Suguru covers your mouth and pins your body on top of his. His forearm holding you down as Satoru spreads your thighs open again but this time, to suckle at your pink bud, and the whimper that you let out is like fucking music to their ears.

“I know you want our cocks sweetheart, but we gotta prep you more. Just relax, let us make you feel good,” Suguru charms, lulling you into a state of naivety to get you to blindly trust them. With the multiple orgasms that Satoru has been pulling from you coupled with Suguru’s debauched speech, you were more than ready to take both of them at this point.

But this? This was pure greed, from both men.

Suguru, wanting to see just how much you can handle before you’re a fucked out crying mess, begging to be stuffed with their cocks. And Satoru, reveling in your taste and secretly hoping to get you to squirt on his face.

Both men had their filthy little plans of watching you come undone, and both were intrigued by what the other’s plans were to get you to come undone.

And you? Well, all you could do was take it. Take the pleasurable torment. Take what they give you and then some.

After all, who knows what these two pretty best friends have in store for you in the long run?

an: what did you guys think?? I love hearing your feedback and what you enjoyed!! Should I make this a series? <33

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

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strawberryfairi · 4 months

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Apartment 519... | Neighbor! Choso Kamo X Fem Reader

A short sexy thirst💦 (Let me know if y'all want this to be a longer fic/full story)

Part 2

You moan loudly, throwing your head back as your back arches off the plush bed.

Your sweetheart of a neighbor Choso from apartment 519, the one you swore on everything was the most innocent guy you've ever come across, has you hitting your fourth orgasm of the night from just his tongue and fingers.

"Wait...w-wait!" You pant, gripping at his dark black hair, completely down and messy from your little hands running through it, cumming so hard all over his skillful tongue. He let's out a deep breathy moan, continuing to quickly flutter the tip of his tongue over your now overstimulated clit, his fingers continuing to curl deep inside your tight walls.

For a moment you wonder how you even got here in this position. Then you remember your horrific breakup with your cheating boyfriend, finding out in the most embarrassing way. But Choso happened to be there, just off work and heading up to his apartment across from yours, and came to your aid.

His concern was heartwarming, so kind and completely selfless. He'd let you vent and cry, patting your back and giving you encouragement for as long as you needed. You felt so comfortable around him you had no issue inviting him to your place.

The craziest part is that the two of you barely even spoke that much, only a few short conversations about how y'all are doing and telling each other to have a good day. Other than that you never saw a reason to converse any further, seeing as you had a boyfriend at the time. At least you were faithful and considerate.

Yet here you are now, aching for him to finally strip fully naked the way he has you and sink himself inside you as deep as he can.

And he does...

A gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezed shut and your brows furrowed deeply as your nails dig into his biceps. The feeling of being stretched out to the max has you seeing galaxies. You're so wet, the sounds of your pussy squelching along his length making the two of you feel nearly intoxicated.

"That idiot doesn't deserve you, baby. He can't handle this pussy anyways. So fuckin' creamy..." He coos into your ear, taking your legs and placing them over his shoulders, folding your body in half.

"Chosooo! Oh fuck!" You cry out shakily. The way he talks to you turns you on such a shameful amount. Your ex couldn't even begin to compare. He never would'a spent so much time eating you out and fingering you, not really the type to linger on foreplay. But Choso, he takes his time, basking in your reactions from your shaky legs to the way you unintentionally yank and pull on his hair.

"If you were mine", He says lowly, pulling out just to the tip, "I'd make you feel good like this every night." He finishes, diving back inside you till his hips met your soft skin. All you could do was whimper, feeling his strokes becoming harder, and faster.

"I'm gonna cuuum!" You whine loudly, tears starting to build up around the corners of your eyes.

"Already baby?" He tilts his head to the side, his tone all teasing and slightly playful as he keeps pounding into you.

"Right there! Right there, uuuugh!" You scream, walls fluttering around his glorious length.

"Such a good girl. You're perfect, baby." He purrs, crashing his lips against yours for a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulls away, looking your right in the eyes, his gaze on fire with lust.

"Keep cumming for me like that."

↳A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Wheeeeew chile it’s hot in here😮‍💨

#choso #choso kamo #jjk x black reader #jjk fanfic #jjk choso #choso jjk #fem reader #black fem reader #black female writer #choso is so damn fine ugh!#choso x reader #choso smut #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo smut

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torntoblivion · 11 months

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clothed s3x with xiao

cws: nsfw (mdni), afab!gn!reader, dry humping, virgin!xiao, cowgirl position,

in his centuries of lifetime, xiao had never experienced romantic love, let alone being intimate with someone. he's still fairly new to relationships, he really wants to try everything with you, he really does but sometimes he gets overwhelmed by being touched so intimately.

you know that none of it is about you and understand him so you allow xiao to control the pace, establishing a safeword first and foremost, letting him lead the whole thing. of course, xiao is incredibly mindful of your boundaries, he always asks for your consent for almost everything.

however xiao's desperate to get his hands on you, he desires you so much and to make you feel good but he's still not ready to be one with you.

you found a solution for that though.

"f-feels good!"

xiao's high pitched whines filled the room, lucky for you two, you have no neighbours so xiao can freely let out those cute sounds. you continue to grind your hips on the bulge formed in his underwear, feeling his cock twitch under the layer of his damp boxers.

he tosses his head back to the pillows when you grind down particularly hard, his hands tightly gripping the sheets below him. you slowly guide his hands to your waist, giving him full control to make him more comfortable.

xiao grips your waist, tightly but still somehow gently, moving you up and down on his erection. he can feel the folds of your drenched cunt through the thin material of your underwear, feel you clenching around nothing, just the thought of you bouncing on his cock like this without clothes on is enough to have his eyes rolling back to his head.

you lean down, making sure to press your chest to his, to cup his burning cheeks to make him look at you. xiao never slows down as you kiss his nose and whisper

"i want you to look at me when you cum, can you do that for me?"

the way you said those sinful words in such a soft voice is incredibly erotic. xiao nods quickly and finally meets your loving gaze, nobody had evet looked at him like you do. looked at him with such happiness, lust and love.

it takes so much effort for xiao to keep looking at you, actively making an effort to prevent closing his eyes in pleasure or look away from embarassment. you continue riding his clothed cock with his aid, your back arches when his tip nudges your enlarged clit as you let out a quite loud moan.

"r-right there, xiao! 'm so close!"

your sweet voice has his blood rushing to his cock, feeling a pang in his groin. suddenly xiao's grip on your waist tighten, now strong enough to leave bruises which he'll most likely feel guilty over, he completely takes control of your moves as he angles his hips a little to directly bump his tip to your clit.

it takes a few more grinds for xiao to finally reach his peak, moaning your name as he presses you hard on his twitching length, a wet patch forming on the fabric.

the hard press of his tip to your clit triggers your own orgasm, gushing into your underwear and mixing your essence with xiao's. xiao allows you to use his spent body to ride out your high, quietly whining due to the overstimulation on his sensitive cock.

you're quick to tend to xiao, pressing soft kisses all over his face as you gently carress his hair, helping him calm down. he pulls you on top of him, arms wrapped around you as you continue combing his silky locks with your fingers.

you can change later, now all he wants is to hold you like this in silence.

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bau-drabbles · 8 months

Note

other anon but pls more in depth drabble about thigh riding! i don’t mind either sub or dom but a longer version of both is chefs kiss

a/n: ah thank you sm lovie 🤭🤍 i did dom spence, i write these all at 12am so i know it's rushed and ooc 😭‼️

mdni! 18+

this man can probably come alone from how you feel around his thigh. he flexes it for you, the tense muscle providing extra friction for you to grind upon. his back is leaned against the couch, his hazel eyes sparkling with desire and amusement at how needy you were. truthfully it stroked his huge ego and made him want to split you open just as you deserved. his head was leaned back as he hummed an approval of how well you were doing, it was everything in him not to ravish you here and right now

"aww look at you, angel. all soaked f'me aren't you?" he chuckles darkly, his fingers trailing down your stomach to the space between your legs. such a pretty sight when he sees your walls clenching around his thigh and he can't help but smirk, looking back at your eyes again. his curls have fallen across his forehead, his pupils blown with pure lust and adoration

"is this all for me?" he hums, his hands coming down to press your hips tighter around his thigh again as he aides you in the back and forth motion. your grinding is getting sloppy, his trousers were soaked with your juices but he doesn't care. he's like an animal, chasing after the high he's so desperately wants to give you

his middle and index fingers trail between your legs, separating your walls to see how your swollen clit and he breaths a little deeper in satisfaction. his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, feeling the familiar twitch in his boxers. his erection was straining against your other leg but he laid no mind. his fingers thrust softly but firmly inside your eager cunt, taking them all the way to his knuckle while he watches with amusement. you can feel his thumb rub against your clit at the same time and it makes you pause slightly, whimpering his name for more. your thighs buck around his hand, hoping to stir him on for more

but reid has other plans, of course he does

"did i give you permission to stop?" he demands, a light but firm slap landing on your ass while his brows furrow. you shake your head no, your body shaking slightly as your hips stutter to resume grinding against his thigh again. he nods briefly, the hint of his smirk reappearing back on his lips

"you look so pretty for me, love. so eager, desperate for me to stretch you open, hm?" he laughs teasingly which only adds on to your whimpering. and when he's decided you've endured enough, he takes control again.

he can feel a small ache as he keeps his thigh tense for you but he daren't move, not when you're teetering on the edge of pleasure. he watches every facial feature of yours contort with pleasure and it only adds onto his need. he watches with a smirk as you all but fall apart in his arms, body shaking and legs trembling while you collapse onto him again, his open arms catching you like he always does. you take a breath in before your back meets the bed, his lips kissing you with fervor and intensity while they trail down your body and right between your legs where he looks excitedly from you and then to your wet cunt. he presses open mouthed kisses across your thigh before flicking the tip of his tongue against the bundle of nerves, causing you to whimper his name

"such a good little girl, i'll give you your reward baby"

#asks #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

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justblades · 1 year

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⌕ BUSINESS PARTNERS WITH BENEFITS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : sampo koski x afab! reader WC : 1.3k

⟢ WARNINGS : MDNI. public teasing, oral (male receiving), throat f, finger f.

everyone gets to witness sampo's absurdity. from his ludicrous backhanded methods whether to be of aid or to fool— that's how they perceive sampo koski. little do they know, among the many 'partnerships' he formed to which he singlehandedly decides, he actually has a business partner, a mutual connection. almost anyone who comes across him etch on their minds he's either to be trusted or disregarded. the two sides tiptoeing upon the boundaries every single time.

it's not just that. he oftentimes gets sidetracked whenever the dyad is commencing a dangerous operation. be it gathering intel from the enemies hideout, he'd still have the time to gawk over your body like he was to descend into insanity if he wasn't given a chance to douse the flames of his lustful tendencies.

and that's how you ended up in this bizarre situation. sampo laps your sprawled out mounds, gloved hands fiddling with your hardened nipples. you bite your lip in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to slip out, as comical sampo appears from his choice of words and personality— he still manages to pleasure you in all kinds of ways, all for the sake of quenching his thirst for intimacies.

your breath hitches, and as bad as it can get, a soldier whips his head to the source of the weak noises, following his intuition. you knew full well being in cramped up spaces with sampo can be a handful to manage, among the many times you reminded him to focus on your jobs, he shrugs it off and proudly proclaims he'll still get it done in spite of you doing it in the middle of an operation.

and he always does. sampo may be deceving at times but his words never fall on his back. sampo's lush green eyes fixate on your expressions, finding enjoyment at how your eyes squint from the jolts of pleasure he sends into your system. he inches forward your face, tip of your noses just a hair's breadth away. "i can't get enough of this."

your eyebrows furrow in exchange, "i thought it'd be just this?" you ask, irritation seethes through your teeth. "when have we ever been caught whenever we do it? come on, we've been partners for years already. is sampo koski really that much of a doubtful figure?" his usual cocky, teasing tone laces his words, beaming you a sheepish smile right after.

in a sense, he's right. and that's exactly how you fall prey on his words. lastly, it's not bad, it is always a great past time when the intel hasn't been leaked yet to the other side. that was exactly it - you two have been business partners with benefits since long ago, making it a hobby to do the deed regardless of time and place, all for the sake of fun, cooperation, and lastly, money.

you slowly rid yourself of clothes, being careful not to draw much attention. meanwhile the bi-haired male basks in his momentary victory, reveling in the moment he won over your rationality.

sampo glides his gloved hand to your inner thighs, a sinister smirk plastered on his lips— with no hesitation lingering in his mind, he rubs viscules on your slit with his thumb finger swiftly, finding your region at such a fast rate, taking into account that he can't see nothing but pitch black darkness and the way you look underneath him.

he has your body memorized as if it was the back of his hand, one of the many things he's skilled at, although it's uncertain whether he should be proud of that. the corners of his lips tug further upwards as soon as he feels the liquids come in contact with his skin, dampening his onyx gloves.

with a rapid thrust, he pumps his digits in and out of your hole. you melt into pleasures, mind starting to be clouded with nothing but sampo's shit eating grins. perhaps you were more sensitive to his touches today since the teasing was too prolonged, and of course, it was intentional, all planned out by the master in control.

his bashful smile never ceases, a rapid rush of determination gushes through his veins. "if only you weren't appealing and so good at this, i would've gone for your neck a long time ago." fortunately, your words were muddled with the soldiers' fancy stories that they were unable to hear your threats.

sampo, as if it was engraved in his soul, replies with the same attitude as usual. "why thank you for the compliment." you scoff, but the huff of breath you heaved immediately got followed by a soft mewl, the navy haired curls his fingers inside your walls as he could feel you squeezing him tight.

"ahh, i wish i were inside you right now." he muses and proceeds to rest his head on the soft beds of your chest. a crease forms between your brows for the nth time, not until he had something up his sleeve once again. it only made sense when a surprising warm feeling slicks on your skin, in stark contrast to the chilling temperature deep inside this spacious building.

a realization dawns on your perturbed mind, maybe it would be easier if you part your lips open and let the breathing noises erupt, rather than trying to hold them back which could lead to your cover being blown. and finally, "dismissed." the soldiers say and leave the room in unison, and you could feel the heavy weight on your chest instantly dissipate into the air.

the two of you scoot out of the small cabinet and immediately locked the metal doors. "i've been in the receiving end for way too long." your eyes spark with hopes of revenge for sampo teasing you like that to which he promptly notices. "no, i—" you push him on the tabletop and hold him down with a hand on his sculpted pecs. as your other free hand travel down to his bulge, you were caught in surprise once you felt a particular spot wet.

you've known him for too long, the same goes for his clothing. if it got this damp despite the thick pants he's wearing, it is no doubt: he came from teasing you alone. you click your tongue in annoyance but proceed to kneel in front of him anyway, still set out on making him whimper and plead for mercy.

if anything, it's better he already came, this way, you could make use of his heightened sensitivity to your advantage. his cock grows hard again and you coil your hands around its body. it throbs from the slightest, feather touches - and you did not dawdle any further. enveloping the margins of your lips from the head of his dick, you try your best to provide more space.

skillfully brushing your sultry tongue from his cock's small folds, sampo throws his head back in pleasure. "h-hey, i'm still sensitive, i just came—" you gobble all his length, proceeding to bob your head up and down, building momentum while finding the right timing to quicken the pace as well.

he whimpers as he feels the crown of his dick hit the farthest back of your throat, "e-eno—" you fiddle with his ballsacks as well, gripping on them tightly, playing around to see what kind of play sampo would like today. with no forewarnings, strings of milky white liquids sprawl into your mouth, a hint of sourness and sweetness breaks through your tastebuds.

as a perfect business partner you were, you gulp all of it down, your mouth perfectly clean of any evidences from sampo's satisfaction. you watch on sampo's lifeless body, appearing like the soul was sucked out of him. fatigue gnaws at his bones meanwhile you chortle - one that was of a mocking tone. "a well deserved defeat."

my masterlist !

#sampo x reader #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader smut #sampo koski smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader smut

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honey-on-your-tongue · 1 year

Note

hey girl how you doing?? 💅🏽

can we have some dilf jake content and fem! navi! reader?? them having a free night bcuz Moat is taking care of their son/daughter ( u decide ) and Jake finally being able to fuck reader like they’re young again? 😩

Like I imagine him wanting reader to ride his face, bending her over a table and smacking that ass

and pls satisfy my breeding kink 😭😭🙏🏽😩🙏🏽

Hi babyyy!! i'm doing good and I hope you're doing amazing!!

AAAAA i loveeee this idea bc OMGGGGG it makes me so wettttt 🤭🤭🤭

And as for the breeding kink we're twinsiessss!!!!! it kills meeee when jake fills her up omggggg

I don't think I'm gonna make it through this one without my vibrator 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

And Jake just has to take advantage. It's been years since the two of you have been alone in the house, having a peaceful night, without the kids.

He loves his kids, of course he does. But, goddamn, does he miss fucking you dumb, making you scream and cry out his name. And he can't do that when the kids are home.

And now—now's the perfect time. Left with auntie Mo'at, the kids aren't around to interrupt. And Jake's got you all to himself.

He starts out slow, pressing gentle little kisses to your mouth, to the side of your neck, as he murmurs, “Y'know what you haven't done in a long time?”

Your arms are around his neck, your heart racing out of your chest, and you breathlessly ask, “What?”

“Ridden my face, baby,” he replies, chuckling lowly when you blush and bury your nose into his neck, flustered.

“Jake,” you say, shy, and it only makes his cock harder.

“Come on, babe. The kids aren't home. Why not?”

As you look into his eyes, you can see the lust in them, the hunger—that ravaging sight he used to have when you two first met, when you got married. Fuck, you've missed it.

“Really?” you ask, excited, and he smirks.

He lowers himself to the ground, dragging you with him, and he pulls you on top of him so you straddle his hips as he lies back. He undoes your loincloth with ease, his eyes shining as he tosses it aside. Then, he grabs your hips and pulls you higher up his torso, to his face until your thighs are on either side of his head.

He pulls your pussy down to his face, inhaling your scent, just having missed this. He grunts against you and you gasp softly.

Jake's tongue slips up your folds, licking the wetness that begins to gather there, and then he slides his tongue into you, and you gasp softly, trying to pull away from Jake's face.

“Mm-mm,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Baby, when I said you should ride my face, I meant it. I don't want you hovering. I want you to sit.”

He pulls your hips down, burying his nose against your clit, his tongue slipping into your entrance, and you whine softly. “Fuck,” you moan.

Jake's hands knead into the flesh of your thighs, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at your taste. He cannot understand how he's held back from doing this for years. It's been so long...how has he not starved without your pussy on his mouth?

You start grinding your hips down on Jake's face, your clit throbbing against his nose. You whine softly, the pleasure sending sparks up your body, making your legs jerk with every swipe of his tongue.

“I missed this,” you admit, eyes fluttering shut, throwing your head back as one of your hands rises to your chest. You pinch your nipple between your fingers, twisting it and gasping at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure.

Jake attempts to agree, but he can't talk when his mouth's full of your cunt, so he ends up babbling against you, sending vibrations through your core, and you mewl.

Your arousal is spilling out of you, coating Jake's nose, his tongue, his chin, his cheeks, and your thighs. You can feel it, warm and slippery, as it aids you with grinding your hips on Jake's face.

And Jake drinks it all up, letting it satiate his need for you. Although he knows he'll never get enough of you, one of the things that leave him satisfied is tasting you, having his tongue deep in your pussy, feeling you clench around it.

He drags his canines over your folds and you gasp, the pleasure spiking, the sensations gathering in a tight coil low in your stomach.

“Jake,” you mewl, mind lost to the pleasure, pussy rubbing over his face, thighs quaking. “Y-you are gonna fuck me, right?”

He chuckles against you, wanting to point out that he would never miss the opportunity to fuck you like he used to before the kids. But, again, he's still eating you out, and he won't stop just to reply.

He is devouring you, his mouth sucking your pussy as if it's the last meal he'll ever have. His nose presses against your clit, rubbing it just the right way with every movement you make on his face, his tongue caresses your gummy walls, savoring your arousal.

Jake's cock is hard, straining against his loincloth and staining the fabric with his salty precum. He starts bucking his hips up, desperate for any sort of friction, and he can't wait to fuck you.

But he will. He's gonna make you come first. All over his face, just like he likes it.

Jake nibbles at your folds, kisses your cunt, groans against you, and you're slowly losing it.

The pleasure is thick in you, an entity in your womb that savagely claws at your insides, begging to be released.

“Jake!” you warn, body shaking as your orgasm peeks closer. “Jake, please!”

And then Jake bites you, his teeth slightly digging into your skin, making you squeal and writhe as your orgasm reaches you. It makes your body tremble from head to toe, your entire being quivering as your orgasm rattles you.

You ride your pleasure out on Jake's face, moaning and gasping, until the fire lessens, leaving you a boneless, satisfied mess.

Jake licks you, making you gasp from overstimulation, and then he helps you off his face.

He licks his lips, a huge grin drawn on his mouth, as he rises.

You're collapsed on the ground beside him, lying on your back, your chest heaving up and down with each heavy breath. Jake crawls on top of you, kissing your mouth, your neck, before he pulls you to sit up.

“'f course I'm gonna fuck you, girl,” he says, helping you to your feet. “'m gonna fuck you real nice.”

He moves you across the room, making you walk backwards as he leads you to the table. He kisses your lips, nibbling them softly, and you gasp gently when the table hits your lower back.

Jake turns you around and pushes you down into the table, bending you over so that your pussy is on display for his hungry eyes to see.

And your ass. Fuck, he loves your ass. He places one of his hands on your asscheek, his fingers splaying over the flesh before he squeezes it. You sigh, content, and then he removes his hand. You're about to complain at the loss when his palm meets your ass in a hard spank, making you gasp.

Jake watches the way your ass jiggles at the slap, and he does it again, admiring you. You press your chest against the table, hands gripping onto the opposite edge.

Jake kicks your legs open and then spanks you again. You squeal, delighted, and Jake chuckles. “Yeah, you missed that, hm? Missed me being mean to your pretty ass?”

You whine softly, wiggling your hips at him, begging, “Fuck me, Jake. Please.”

Jake removes his loincloth before he grabs the base of his long, hardened cock. He slaps the thick head on your folds and you gasp, back arching as much as it can, a wordless plead for him.

And then Jake thrusts into you, filling your sopping pussy in one go, groaning when his hips meet yours.

You whimper as he pounds you, your body dragging across the table top every time he drives into you.

Jake holds onto your hips, watching the way your ass bounces on his thighs with his thrusts, and he can't help but spank you again, making you mewl.

“You fuckin' missed this, didn't you?” he chuckles. “You missed me dickin' you down from behind, having your pretty cunt stretched out for me.”

“Yes,” you reply, nodding. “I've needed it s'bad.”

Jake hisses as you clench around him, his cock bruising your cervix, dragging against your g-spot and making you tremble.

“'m gonna fill you with my cum, girl,” he tells you. “Gonna give you 'nother baby. You want that? Hm? Wanna be full of my baby again?”

You gasp, “Yes! Fuck, yes! I want another one! Please!”

Jake can already envision you, your stomach round with his child, your breasts large and swollen, your gentle demeanor, your being exhausted from the pregnancy. It gives him the chance to pamper you, to keep you at home, lying in bed while he takes care of you. He loves taking care of you, loves seeing his baby kicking inside you.

“I'll give you another one,” he promises, his ears folding back with the pleasure. “I'll give you another baby, girl.”

He reaches over his shoulder for his queue and connects it to yours. This makes you whine, body shaking, as you feel his pleasure. In return, Jake shudders when he senses how close you are.

“Come for me, darlin',” he says. “Come on my cock f'r me, yeah?”

You mewl, trying to respond, but the pleasure is too intense. Your body is quaking, the pleasure overcoming you as you feel your orgasm creep closer.

And then you come, body writhing, as you cry out, “Jake! Jake! Fuck, Jake!”

Jake feels your orgasm wash over you, feels how you fall limp, and it leads him to his own orgasm. He comes inside you, grunting as he spills his load into you, painting your insides white, ensuring to keep his cock in you in hopes that he'll get you pregnant.

Then, he leans down, his chest pressing against your back, and he kisses your shoulder. “We should have Mo'at keep the kids overnight more often, huh?”

-----

Blog masterlist

#avatar jake sully #avatar smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully #jake sully smut #reader insert #jake sully fluff #inbox open #inbox requests #<3 #ask me anything

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ystrike1 · 1 month

Text

The Tale of Oshin - By Arhat (7.5/10)

A dragon-blessed queen with two powerful, handsome husbands? It sounds too good to be true, because it is. The King who loves her is a brand new ruler who used to be a barbarian, so he is surrounded by enemies. Her dragon husband is even worse. His godly powers are questionable at best. The magic eyes he gave her as a wedding gift don't even work that well. How will Oshin cope with power, with her meek personality, and two deeply flawed lovers?

Oshin is kind of dumb and pretty. Her mother was the same way. Both of them attracted countless men with their naive sweetness and beauty.

Oshin is a terrible Queen. It really shows. She doesn't command respect. She doesn't even punish people who do disrespect her, because she wants the palace to be peaceful.

Her first husband, King Naskaya, is always away at war too. The King is also close to a female aide named Suren, who is a genius strategist.

Oshin never speaks out against Suren...even though she currently has way too much sway in the palace.

Naskaya the former barbarian, who now has to step up and be a King, is madly in love with Oshin. This is very bad. He indulges her. He never forces her to learn. Oshin thinks she's an idiot, because she cannot follow along at war meetings...but that's because Naskaya refuses to teach her. He wants his wife safe, happy, and pretty. I'm not saying Naskaya is a bad person. It's very sweet that he cares deeply for Oshin, and her health and happiness....but he is a new King in a volatile land that doesn't fully accept him.

Oshin has no children yet.

Oshin gets captured by the Dragon...or the salamander. Oshin nursed a little salamander back to health...and it turns out that the little creature was her stalker.

I'm going to be clear here. Dragon is a very boring character who exists to make Naskaya jealous. I do not see his appeal, BUT he does give Oshin her powers.

The Dragon's Eye is a great blessing. Having Dragon Eyes can allow you to.

- read minds.

- see hundreds of miles away.

- see glimpses of the future.

It's an extremely OP power to have....if you're smart. Oshin isn't smart. She is am uneducated and spoiled wife with no confidence. Also, using the eyes too much makes you sick....so Naskaya doesn't let her use them much. Even when she wants to...

Naskaya is a big scary barbarian. He does allow Oshin to take the Dragon as her second husband, but he does it to protect her. He knows more people will bother his wife now that she has special powers. Only the Dragon can be trusted to be her bodyguard, basically.

He's way crueler when Oshin isn't around.

When she reads his mind briefly she sees that.

- Naskaya lusts after her to a scary degree.

- He's willing to kill his own family and friends to keep her as his wife.

The truth is to terrifying Oshin, who believed that Naskaya stayed with her out of obligation after he rose to power. He became King after their marriage, but she lived in fear of being tossed aside...because he was away so often.

It's hard for her to accept the truth.

Oshin has no children....because Naskaya doesn't want her to get pregnant. His mother suffered horribly over the course of multiple pregnancies. If Naskaya wasn't a King it's likely that he would have kept his marriage childless. He finds pregnancy as a whole disgusting and he doesn’t want to put Oshin at risk....even though she actually wants a child with him very much.

Suren knows Naskaya is a little crazy. She plans to take revenge on him.

Naskaya killed her true love while he was busy trying to become King.

So she wants his new country to fail.

The rage of a woman is just like that. A slow poison. She is a formidable enemy.

The Dragon doesn't even appear for ten chapters its hilarious. Also most of the time when Husband #2 is on screen Naskaya is jealous in the corner. The Dragon did stalk Oshin as a salamander, but he's not very intimidating.

It's neat that Oshin has to grow up and demand her Queenly rights. It's neat that Naskaya is overly doting to the point of insanity but the Dragon is reaaaallllyyy boring and the art isn't great.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome game #otome #The Tale of Oshin

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vympirestake · 9 months

Text

— No Better Sight

— bo sinclair x afab!reader, 🔞,mostly just smut without plot, fluff, lowkey bodyworship, slight aftercare

— gentle degradation, unprotected, not proofread

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Bo Sinclair had never had much of an eye for beauty. Instead, he found his own art in the oil covered grime of his mechanics shop. He had little care for the appearance of anything in the rundown town he called home.

Though, at the sight before him, Bo figured it didn't take an artist to know he was the luckiest man in the world. The last golden hues of sunset crept through the decrepit curtains of his room; indescribably illuminating your figure bouncing on his near aching cock.

"Look at you go, darlin'," Bo drawls against your bruised lips. His eyes drag down your body, feasting on every curve and crevice he knows all too well. He catches your lips once more only to slip his thumb into your all too eager mouth when he pulls away. Groaning at the feel of you suck around him. "Just my sweet little slut, aren't cha' honey," His voice dropped for a moment, dripping nothing but lust and love. He allowed you to continue sucking his thumb before slowly removing it once again.

Your moans were like music to his ears and, though he loved hearing them, Bo enjoys feeling them even more. So, despite the desperation of the moment, the man before—and below—you pulled you down into a gentle kiss. His thumb gliding down the curves of your jaw, cuping his hand at your chin to keep you steady. Keep you exactly where he wanted you.

You whined at the loss for only a moment before Bo began gently circling your clit. The shock of almost painful pleasure, courtesy of Bo insisting on eating you like a man starved earlier, making you cry out and your hips stutter in their movements. Moans and chants of Bo's name flowed from your lips, trying desperately to regain your rhythm.

A groan sounds from Bo at the sight, his free hand flying to your hip to aid your desperate grind. His other only continuing its assault on your clit.

"That feel good, doll," he asks.

"Yes! Yes, please, feels so good," you move your hands to find purchase on his shoulders.

"Oh," he tilts his head to get a better look of where you connect, "I bet it does from how you're clampin' down on my cock like that." Your desperate bouncing now became a frantic grind again Bo's hand. Begging for just a little bit more friction to finally push you over that edge. Seeing how close that sweet release was to overtaking you, Bo slowed to a torturous pace.

Feeling his hands come to hold your hips almost still, you let out a pained sob into Bo's shoulder. "No—please, Bo. Please keep going." You tried to bounce again but the grip Bo held on your hips was too tight. Your hands slide to his chest, nails digging into the tanned flesh. "I'll—I'll do anything just please, keep going." Bo hadn't allowed you another moment to ask before he flipped your positions.

Bo released his grip on your hips for only a moment to settle your thighs comfortably on his scarred forearms. As he reaches to grasp your waist he growls out, "arch your back for me, honey. You know how I like it."

You comply with his command, arching your back just a little, feeling how his cock shift to his new spots inside you. The feeling making your hips now shift and buck in anticipation.

"Bo, baby, please," he shifts his weight down closer to you, "need you s'bad. Please, need your cock," you shift to steady yourself on your arms, leaning into him. At that, Bo gives a sharp, gentle thrust. Enough to have your eyes rolling and head leaning back. He chases your neck, lips kissing and sucking on the column of your throat whole building his pace.

The angle now allows you to feel him hitting deep into your soaked cunt. The sound of wet skin slapping reverberates around the room and though the sun no longer shines through the blinds, Bo can't look away. He pulls himself from your neck, watching your lips part to allow a symphony of moans to escape.

"Open your eyes, doll. I want you to look at me when you cum." You do as he says, catching his lust-blown eyes as he, again, brings a hand to toy with your clit. A sharp cry of his name slips from you while your body arches up towards his own. Arms flying around his neck to find something to hold onto.

"'m close, Bo! Please don't stop, need t' cum," you cry out. Bo quickens his pace, his fingers rubbing circles into your clit. He can't focus on anything other than the need to feel you clench around his length.

He leans his head around to hover his lips just over yours. In a low tones he drawls out, "do it, cum for me. I want you to, baby, my good girl." He stutters out more but you don't notice. The tension in your core finally giving way to an explosive climax. Your hands scramble, nails clawing at Bo's back and bicep while you float from your high.

The feeling of you clenching down on him has Bo releasing with a low growl. The sensation of him filling only aids you, nearly sending your overestimated body into a second climax. Bo's arms slowly give way, releasing your legs to the bed and gently bringing himself to somewhat lay on your heaving chest. For a time, you breathe together. Caressing the parts of the other you can reach and slowly coming back to each other.

Bo is the first to move, shifting his weight to instead lay beside you. Pulling your limp body into his arms, tucking your head gently into his chest while he slowly smoothes you hair. In your tired haze, you bring a leg to rest over his own.

"So good, honey, always such a good girl f'me." Bo brings his head to rest in your hair, placing a gentle kiss while soaking in your scent. Chuckling at the slight 'mhm' he receives in response.

He'll run a bath in the morning, but for now Bo settles in next to you. Content letting everything but you drift away, forgotten.

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#bo sinclair #house of wax #x reader #mine #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair smut #bo sinclair x reader smut #house of wax 2005 #horror #slashers #slasher #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #afab reader #spicy

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etherealsworldvision · 2 months

Text

Singles Love Reading

Before I begin the reading I’d like to take a moment to talk about “Care for Gaza” a non-profit charity aid on Twitter (now known as X) who are helping families in need. If you have the funds here are their PayPal and GoFundMe.

🚨 P.S.A 🚨 : I do not give personal readings!

Note : I’m going to give you a heads up…this ended up being a LOVE reading and not a SINGLES reading lol. I guess we are not feeling the romance tonight lol. Okay look — I DID ask for romance stuff and this is what I got so I hope you enjoy it still.

[ general message: saw 222 as I was making the layout so this number might be significant. I believe the numerology meaning is: balance, harmony, spiritual alignment. You can condense it to 6 which would mean: domestic happiness, harmony, and stability. Rain. Autumn/Winter season. Airplanes. 123 ]

Pile 1

[ channeled message: “because I’m tired of being the only one playing by the rules, the world is unfair […] maybe it’s okay if it’s unfair in our favor for once” – Craig from Killing It. ‘Called it love but it was lust’, ‘It wasn’t love like I had hoped’. ‘maybe another time,’ ‘love is a complexity’. ‘If love can fade so can pain’. ‘Let your cup overflow with the love you deserve’.

Additional Confirmation: Seashells. Becoming a Sea Jelly. Prickly. Becoming a Porcupine. Sea and the Earth. Poetry. Disturbance. ]

Cards: 7 of wands (Reverse); Hierophant (Reverse); 9 of Wands. Snail; White Dress; Queen of Hearts; 8 of Hearts.

First thing’s first…this is a complex reading. This is going to be a different type of love reading. I’m sorry if you’re looking for a ‘who is coming in’ but if you still want to stay then please do. This reading does have romantic undertones but it will dives into love.

When I started this reading: I felt like I needed to protect myself — bolt all the doors, close all the windows, triple check the dozens of cameras around the house, and secure myself by hiding under the bed with a blanket wrapped around me.

There’s this profound grief/sadness/yearning/loneliness all meshed together in a box. I think this is your energy because I’m not getting another person. I could be wrong though. But the overall energy feels like the saying “the world/love hasn’t been too kind to you.”

I’m not going to sit here and tell you how to feel. Your feelings are 100% valid because for some reason people probably told you how to feel which made things worse. Honestly all I can give is a virtual hug.

Honestly maybe you’ll find love in this reading [not romantic wise! I meant like a little bit of softness for your day. Idk maybe I’m rambling]. It just feels like you need a blanket and a warm cup of your favorite drink. Some of you might like apple cider with extra cinnamon. Maybe a nice cup of coffee or (ginger) tea with some sugar. Or it’s not physical warmth you’re after but, just this once, inner warmth.

This emptiness you have isn’t something to be taking lightly, that is for sure. It should be held with recognition and upmost delicacy. You aren’t difficult to be loved.

Some of you know this while others may find difficult: you are deserving of love. Some of you are probably groaning and rolling your eyes. I wanted to say it again just in case. I’m also sending you lots of love and support.

You know what, why should I stop there? You’re deserving of people putting effort into you, of understanding, of consistency, of acceptance, of things to be taken at a slower pace. You deserve a love that is supposed to feel like your favorite drink or food. I think, most importantly, you deserve the recognition.

If you can find a healthy outlet please do. I know this reading is probably chaotic but I think it’s supposed to validate how you feel. There was another that came in but it was a bit of blur so I think that’s a sign to leave this reading as is. I’m rooting for you pile 1 and sending many hugs with a lot of love! 💕

Pile 2

[ Channeled Messages: ‘We never realize how frozen we are until someone melts our ice’ ; ‘We know what we are, but not what we may be’ ; ‘Don’t waste a second of your time convincing other people your worth’.

Additional Messages: 111, Broseph (Character from Stoked), Bravery, Strength, Talk, Valentines Day, Take a Break, Focusing on Materialism, Beach Vibes; H2O; Putting in the Work, Babes by Hockey Dad, Safe and Sound by Mr. Floyd Larry, Fire Placements, Sagittarius]

Cards: 9 of Wands; 8 of Cups (Rx); The Chariot. Transformation (Yumiko Kurahashi); The Soul (Emily Dickinson. Jack of Clubs; 8 of Clubs; 7 of Clubs

Pile 2’s, I have to tell you something: I restarted the reading. I reshuffled all the cards and took a ‘day off’ cause my tummy hurts :( and I wanted a break. I don’t know why I had to mention that but…hey, maybe you need a break for the ache?

On with the reading! For those of you who did or are taking a break from love, you’re taking the cool ~ approach. Now this isn’t a mind game approach. I genuinely feel like it’s because you ‘moved on’ from love. You’re just tired of the same ol’ people coming into your life and making you stressed.

I get the feeling you’re taking the ‘Broseph’ (Character from Stoked) approach. If you know him, you know that he’s very chill and laidback. He lets the waves come to him and living life in a relaxing fun way. This could be the way you’re viewing love now.

For some of you I heard “love/dating pool is shit, I’m going to do what I want’, which CONGRATS! You live your life, I’m very proud of you. You may also be taking a funny approach to your love life. I just get the vibe that: ‘love isn’t so serious anymore so might as well make the best of it by taking it lightly’.

Despite these approaches you’re also more selective and will put a boundary up. Again congrats to you! You’re at the point of, again, enjoying your life. I’m also getting a sense you’re putting more emphasis in your friendships. This is going to be a little deep.

For some of you, you may find the love you were missing within yourself through friendships/community. As in, the romantic love you thought would ‘fill’ the hole is not it. It was actually platonic/communal love that you craved. For other’s the love for yourself due to, soul searching’, basically rediscovering yourself.

Overall this is mainly due to people, mostly romantic, not being compatible with you. Like I have a feeling — during the summer time there will be in-depth soul searching. No, it’s not the ‘hippie’ type thing! Unless it could be we never know lol, it’s actually more of transformation of the old you. You’re entering a new part in your life.

Okay this is specific. I don’t know what Valentine’s Day did for you all but for some reason I think their gift to you made you realize ‘yeah…I’m breaking up with you’. Now this isn’t to scare anyone! This is like a 0.1% of you. I just feel like this could be how 0.1% of you will ‘entire’ this transformation.

To recap; despite the way you were treated and the people who were in your life. You’re now rediscovering yourself, your worth, questioning and finding the love you needed. You’re still open to love (in general) but more selective with the people. You’re now or will be letting love find you. Again you’re taking the Broseph approach lol. Have fun and good luck, I’m very proud of my pile 2’s :) 💕.

Pile 3

[ Channeled Messages: ‘If soulmates do exist they’re not found. They are made. People meet, they get a good feeling, and they work on building a relationship’ ; Release your mind, don’t become the hurt that they hurt you’ ; ‘Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And it's there. And you can see it, you know what it is. It's a wave. And then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while. You know it's one conception of death for Buddhists: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be.’

Additional Messages: 222, 232, 234, Cat, Curiosity, Watch Your Mouth by The Backseat Lovers; Cold Hands; Burning Candle, Wedding Fantasies, Prayer Beads; Traditions; Selenite; Blue Calcite; Rivers and Roads by the Head and the Hearts; ‘Might Have Been The One Vibe’, The Good Place. ]

Cards: Page of Swords; Empress (Rx); Tower. Ace of Diamonds; 10 of Spades; Ace of Clubs. White Dress; Devotion.

Pile 3, I want to say I’m so sorry for what you went through. There’s a sense of heartache and devastation that recently happened. I heard you might have gotten a call or this sudden new broke your heart. A part of you may felt drawn to pile 1 so if you did then please check that out.

My cat also wants to say hello. She’s actually hanging out with your cards. A message popped up in my head: you are protected. I also want to add that your pile is a long read.

For a lot of you I feel that this is devastating. You may have spent all this time nourishing, putting the effort, and pouring your love into something that wasn’t ’worth it at the end’.

For some, not all, I don’t like to bring this up and be this type of reader…but the news may have been about cheating. As for the others the relationship could have ended because of a huge dealbreaker; like traveling or different values. There could have even been a conversation about money that led to an argument.

Either way, there was a sudden break(up) and now there is grief. I’m not getting so much as to how to help. I think this reading is more about acknowledging your grief and a reminder that you will find like minded people.

Another thing; you may feel anger as well. It’s like a simmered anger. It’s there but simmering…it’s hot yet it constantly murmurs. It feels as if it could be towards everyone. For some it may even be towards the world. But for all it feels as if this anger is directed to yourself.

Okay there’s a big select of you that might have been in a long term relationship. I’ve been tiptoeing around this but it feels like you were so close and then this happened, and now what the fuck, right? Basically the rug was ripped from under you. It just feels like sudden devastation.

I’m not going to feed into your anger and your grief. I am certainly not going to bypass this either by singing Kumbaya and lighting up an incense.

Instead, let’s acknowledge this. You may be feeling angry, scared, all of the grieving symptoms. That is okay! This is going to be hard to hear but grief doesn’t fade. It stays, it lingers, it’s there. The only thing we can do is feel it but do our best to not let grief consume us. We just have to take it day by day in little doses.

This may even be a reminder to pour in that love into yourself. No this isn’t some “self love heals all” type of thing. I believe [the right and healthy] community/friendships can help you out here, but let’s not forget to pour into ourselves too. This can be by creating a safe space for yourself. It could be doing things you always wanted to do. It can be gifting yourself something or simply journaling and crying it out with ice cream.

I also want to say the love you poured into that relationship is no waste. It’s proof that you are worthy of love, that you are capable of love. You are a reminder that the love you pour is out there. You have so much love to give and now it is time to give that love to yourself. It is also a reminder that this love can also be poured into you by your friends and community.

Another reminder, because it seems to be prominent, anger is a reminder of your boundaries. Anger reminds us what we fight for, what we need to feel protected. Anger is a boogieman to society, which can become it if not handled in a healthy way. However, Anger can be justice if you learn to dig deep at the root. This is all I have for you today. I wish you the best 💕

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sachiko1309 · 2 months

Text

The Kings plaything - Part 2/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been imprisoned, Thranduil wants to take care of his wife, but gets interrupted by their escape. After deciding to come to their aid at the reclaiming of Erebor, he finally gets to have his wife, more than once...

Word count: 11965

Warnings: smut, rough, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, oral both receiving, gem play, dirty talk, slight BDSM, slight battle descriptions, Minors DNI this contains adult content!

Part 1:

“You know what I was thinking about?” My husband asked, still holding me tightly to his chest in the bathtub. It was a big bathtub, embedded in the ground, big enough for me not to fully reach the ground, or touch the edges, when I was in the middle.

Letting my head roll back on his shoulders, I opened my body further to his touches. “That you are incredible greedy and cant let go of your wife?” I teased, watching his hands roam over my body. He chuckled at my words, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “Something of that sort, yes.” He answered, his voice nearly drowned out from my moan. “But it does not seem to be a complaint of yours.”

“The day I complain about your touches, is the day I have reached insanity.” I simply stated, pressing my back against his body. “Promising words to hear from your mouth, little petal.” He murmured into my ear. I turned around, straddling him. His eyes twitched, when my core touched his hard member, the light in his blue orbs turning lustful. “What is it, that crossed your mind, herven?”

“Remember what the dwarf said?” He asked, a sly smirk on his lips.

“He said a lot.” I simply stated, raising an eyebrow at my husbands antics. The smirk on his lips just grew bolder, reaching his eyes. “That he did… But I was referring to the idea he gave me.” Thranduil whispered lowly, still not clarifying what he meant.

“An idea of what sorts?” I pressed on. Thranduil just lifting me up, until I sat on the stone edge of the tub. Luckily the floor was warm, heated through a complicated system of hot water running below.

I looked at my husband confused, who stood in the water, covered up to his chest. His hair neatly pinned to his head with needles and rods, he looked at me. Lifting himself out of the water, he walked through the room towards his little secret wardrobe where he kept his most worn jewels. I watched as the water ran down his body in little droplets, the sun reflecting in everyone of them, giving my husband an even more ethereal look. He turned around holding something in his hands.

Letting himself sink into the water, he walked up to me, putting something on my stomach. I gasped in shock, realizing what it was. It was one of his bigger white gemstones that he usually wore on a clasp. He must have taken it off and now it was roughly the size of two or three curled fingers. “You are mad!” I breathed out, watching the grin form on my husbands face in shock.

“Maybe.” He admitted. “Lean back, meleth.” Softly pushing me back down, his eyes raking over my body. Shaking my head, I sunk back. If my husband had set his mind upon something, there was almost nothing that could force him away from his path. And only seconds later, I could feel the cold stone press against my folds and making its way into my body. It was a weird but fulfilling feeling, and I let out a soft gasp.

“Spread your legs.” Thranduil softly ordered, his fingers ghosting over my body. I did what he wanted, now laying fully open for him to see. Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched him. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered, touching every inch of my body. “So, so beautiful…” Then his gaze wandered to my face. “I will have someone make more gemstones for you to wear.”

“I already have so many.” I argued, but he shook his head. “I am not talking about those, little petal.” A sly smirk sunk on his features, the arrogance in his eyes nearly swallowing me whole.

A sudden knock on the door made his head snap around. Heaving himself out of the water, he wrapped a cloak around him, answering the door, without opening it too far. “What?” His sharp tone made even me flinch and I felt sorry for whatever soldier had to endure his wrath now…

“I am so sorry, my king. But… But the dwarves. They have escaped.” Came the silent voice from Feren and I rose to my feet as well. The stone sitting inside me, now weighing down, threatening to fall out of me. I clenched my walls, slowly walking towards my cloak to get dressed as well. After I was dressed decent enough, I joined my husband at the door, then pressing out to take a seat in one of the chairs to find some sort of relief. Sitting down however was another story, because the new position caused the stone to massage my walls again.

Just fast enough to suppress a moan, I listened in on Feren explaining what had happened. The longer he talked, the more the expression on my husband changed from annoyed to amused, until he even wore a small grin on his lips. “That filthy little hobbit…” He murmured, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I just tilted my head. “Seems like they are very persistent in getting back that mountain. We might as well grand them some aid.”

Thranduil sighed deeply at my words: “We shall see if they manage to get to the mountain and then we shall decide whether to come to their aid or not.” I didn’t complain about his statement, knowing that this was the closest I would get him right now to grand anything. Feren looked at me with a smirk, silently shaking his head. I just winked at him, knowing full well that he was mostly amused by the way I simply held Thranduil in check.

***

It did indeed not take long until we received word of the dwarves reclaiming Erebor, unleashing the fire of Smaug upon the small village of Laketown. That’s when I raced to my husband, finding him already discussing details with Feren. “Herven…” I breathed out, sucking in the air into my lungs from my long race. “The dwarves… Laketown… It got destroyed. We must help.” Thranduil quickly rushed towards me, taking the scroll out of my hand and steadying my body. “Careful, meleth. Please sit down. We are already discussing how to help them.”

I gladly took the chair and water that I was brought, then taking a look on the map and all the little figures standing in to represent war strategics. It did indeed not take us long to figure out what to do, most of the work already having been done by my husband and Feren before I even reached them.

And when Thranduil gave the orders to his people to get ready, I also rushed towards our chambers, packing my armor and spare clothes as well as my weapons. “Ithil, what are you doing?” The voice of my husband interrupted me in my doings and I turned around, two daggers in my hand. “I am getting ready to accompany you.” A soft smile spread across his lips. “No you don’t. You have to stay here and rule the kingdom while I am gone.”

I shook my head. “You know that’s not happening. Through good and bad. Remember?” Turning, I kept on packing my things, until his warm arms wrapped around me, holding my hands in place. “I will not let any harm come to you.” But I interrupted him: “You said yourself it would be easy to reclaim those jewels. What are you fearing that you are not telling me, herven?”

“Nothing my dear. I just want to spare you from the sights of a battle field.” He argued back, loosening his grip around me. I turned in his arms. “I have had a life before you. I have seen battle. Let me ride with you. We both know that I am a good fighter. Not as great as you, but I can take on your son with ease.”

He smiled at those words, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more for me to convince him. “It is true that you can stand against my son, but still…”

“No buts, herven. I will accompany you and that’s my last word.”

Sighing deeply, he shook his head, letting go of me. “As you wish, meleth. Just promise me to stay at my side and be careful.” I kissed him on his chest, not reaching much higher with him standing at full height of nearly 7ft. “I always am. We don’t want you to succumb back to your cold self, do we?” He raised an eyebrow, bending down to me: “A kiss to the chest is all I get after letting you accompany me into battle? I think I deserve way more than that.”

Seeing the jest in his eyes, instead of giving him a real kiss, I sunk to my knees. “I think you do. How about you make me show you how good I am at following your orders?” Looking at him through my lashes, I started to softly palm his cock through the fabric, feeling him already growing hard under my touch. Thranduils smile grew wicked, but he kept his composure: “Would this have been your last resort if I had not agreed to you riding with me?” I tilted my head, slowly opening the strings of his pants. “Maybe. Who knows…?”

“Open your mouth!” He growled and I did what I was told. He easily held my head while he pushed his member down my throat, beginning to fuck my mouth in a slow teasing pace. His thrusts were controlled but hard, making me gag, but I managed to suppress the urge to vomit. “By Valar… You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock, pin iell. Taking your kings cock so obediently down your throat.” I let out a strangled moan and clutched the hand that held my head.

“You like this, do you?” He teased, shoving my head down on his cock until my nose was pushed against his pelvis. “Sucking on my cock like the greedy little whore you are, serving me as the good girl I trained you to be. I should really take you in front of others more often. It seems to make you even more obedient than I thought it would.” Ripping my head back, he allowed me to breathe, the sudden overflow of air making my head spin and I had to close my eyes to regain some control.

“Look at me!” A sharp pain shot through my cheek and I opened my eyes again. Instantly my body screamed for more, the pleasure of the pain immediately shooting down to my core. I closed my eyes again, not before winking at him. I felt his hand land on my cheek again, forcing a mewled sound to leave my mouth. “Don’t tell me you like this…” He muttered in shock, the grasp in my hair softening a bit. I looked away in shame. “I do… More than I should…”

“Fuck…” He growled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know… I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think of me badly. What you give me is already enough, I didn’t want to sound greedy and demanding…” Whispering, I looked to the floor, not finding the strength to stand under his gaze. His demeanor completely shifted after my confession, a soft stroke to my cheek making me look up to him, nearly being kicked out of reality by the love and passion in his blue hues. “You never have to feel guilty about asking me for something, you hear my meleth? I wish to fulfill any desire of you, please don’t deny me that honor.” His smile grew cocky with his next words: “Besides, I love my wife to be greedy and insatiable. It brings great pleasure to me, knowing that you love to be taken and used…”

I just stared at him, my mind reeling over the things I wanted to say, but I was incapable of wording my thoughts. Thranduil just cocked his head, the grip on my head growing stronger again. “Tell me, little starlight. Do you want me to be rougher with you. Use you even more to my pleasure?”

“Yes…” I whimpered silently, not bringing the strength to speak up. He tapped my lips with his thumb. “Yes what?”

“Yes, my king. I want you to use me. To be your little whore. That you take me at your will, please, herven. Have me.” I begged, my eyes conveying the desperate need I felt pooling between my legs. He hesitated for a moment, but then he used his forefinger and thumb to squeeze my mouth open, thrusting back down my throat without a warning.

A moan escaped me, as he picked up fucking my mouth to his pleasure. This time he was rougher, holding my head in place with one hand, while the other wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Drool started to drip down my chin and I tried to breath through my nose. His cock kept thrusting deep into my throat, causing me to gag, but he didn’t care. “Just like that. Be my little slut.” He praised me, his head rolling back on his shoulders.

I hummed with pleasure at his words, feeling the wetness pool between my legs, surely making a mess inside my pants. Thranduils movements were methodical and strong, barely giving me any room to relax or breathe, but it felt way to good for me to complain. The feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue the salty taste of his precum showing his pleasure. I felt like I was in heaven. But it was over way to quickly. Pulling me back from his cock, he pulled me to my feet handling me through the room and bending me over a shelf that was at my hips height.

Pushing me down on the wooden surface, he arched my back, forcing me to turn my head and look at him. “If you keep that work up, I wont be able to please you, bereth.”

“Yes please…” I whimpered, getting up on my toes to give him a better angle to thrust into my pussy. “Take me, please, just take me. I need you herven.” He didn’t need to be told twice, without a warning, he forced my knees apart and thrusted into me. I cried out in shock and pleasure as my walls were stretched so unexpectedly, but Thranduil didn’t react. Forcefully he pushed my hips into the position he wanted me to be in and held me down.

“If you are begging me to take you, you better live with the consequences.” He growled into my ear, setting a reckless pace. “You will take what I give you, like the good little whore you are. And you don’t come until I allow you to, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I whimpered, trying to flee his hard grip, but there was nowhere to go but just take it. Tears started to form in my eyes once more, running down my cheeks. But Thranduil didn’t even think about giving me any mercy. “You brought this upon yourself. Now be a good girl and let me use you. You know your safe words, use them if you want out, but don’t think your crying will make me feel sorry.” He hissed close to my ear, giving my hair a harsh tug, so that I had to arch my back even further.

The new angle allowed him to fuck me deeper and much more intimately than before, making me see stars in seconds. His grip tightened around my hip, once he felt myself spasm around his cock, keeping me on my toes, while his hand in my hair kept my upper body pressed against his chest. The position was anything but comfortable and yet it gave me a kind of relief that I had never experienced before.

“Im mel cin.” He whispered into my ear. “More than anything in the world, you hear me?” I whimpered as a response, pressing myself even closer to him. His utter dominance leaving me breathless and overwhelmed and I hadn’t even realized how fucked out my body already was. But Thranduil just kept talking in the sweetest voice to me, while he literally took advantage of my body and his strength compared to mine. “You are the best thing that happened to me in my life. And I will never let any harm come to you. I have promised to protect and love you with all my heart and lightening shall strike me if I ever deviate from that path. Nothing shall ever come between us, my little starlight.”

I couldn’t help the emotional wave that his words triggered, beginning to cry uncontrollably in his arms, as my body continued to react to his touch. The cliff between emotional relieve and physical desire completely throwing me of my course. My legs began to give in, as my whole body started to shake and spasm, walls flickering around his cock uncontrollably. “Thranduil… Please…” I pressed out, incapable of formulating a straight sentence, as my orgasm approached me in big steps.

To my luck, he understood what I wanted from him, loosening the grip on my hair. Slowly he let me sink down onto the shelf, stroking my back with soft little touches. “Go on, meleth. Come for me. Let me feel that pussy grip my cock while you scream my name.” As soon as the words left his mouth, I broke. My orgasm shook me to the core, his name ringing through the room in a mixture of scream and moan. I tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing besides the wood I was pressed upon and his hand gently drawing shapes on my back.

Thranduil didn’t even seem like he had enough, he kept thrusting into me at the same pace as before, still holding me down with one hand. Now his free hand wandered to my throat, playing with it. “Open up for me.” He growled silently and I could hear the strain in his voice indicating that he did indeed hold back for me. Opening my lips, I let him force down his long digits into my throat, so far that it made me involuntarily gag. His fingers were long enough to cut the airflow to my lungs, leaving me breathless once again, as the tingly feeling in my core rose again.

At varying intervals, he took his fingers out of my throat and shoved them back down again, controlling the way I breathed and how much air I was allowed. My vision grew blurry and I started to perceive everything else more intensely and if he knew it, he let go of my hips, hugging it and pressing two fingers on my clit. He turned my head with his fingers in my mouth, forcing me to look at him, as he began to teasingly paint little circles on my most sensitive spot, grinning down at me like a predator. I began to spasm around his cock once again.

“Fuck… How I love this…” He murmured, his jaw clenching in determination. “The way your body reacts to me… How it twitched underneath me, no chance to avoid me. It makes me hard just thinking about that, but feeling it… That is so much better. And those very little moments are everything to me. Give me the uttermost satisfaction that I own you and all I have to do to have this pleasure is give one single command and you will kneel in front of me, ready to take what I give you.” He was visibly affected by his actions, sweat dripping from his forehead. His breathing was shallow and I wondered for a short moment, how he was still able to keep his pace and speak to me that powerfully.

I whimpered against his fingers in my mouth, bucking against his hips. “Take it easy, myril. I will guide you.” He whispered and I did. Letting go completely, I only focused on the feelings he made me feel. That hot ache in my stomach slowly spread through my body, taking hold of every string of my being. I clenched around his member, the air deprivation leaving its traces, causing him to momentarily lose the rhythm of his fingers.

Although his movements had lost their methodical rhythm, he was still able to hit my sweet spot and in conjunction with his fingers, that drove me further up the cliff to my orgasm. When he pulled back his fingers once more, I begged: “Please… Thranduil… I need to come. Please. I cant hold it anymore. Please let me come.” Without answering, he slowly pushed his fingers back down my throat, not letting his gaze slip away from my eyes. I was caught by his blue hues, pulled into his soul as he spoke to me with the softest of voices I had ever heard: “Now, meleth. Come now. One last time.”

I closed my eyes, letting the orgasm wash over my body. Whimpering and twitching I came undone again. I was completely drained, mentally as well as physically. Collapsing down onto the shelf, I wasn’t able to hold me up again, only his arm around my waist keeping me in place. With the last mental capacity, I felt him twitch inside of me, pouring his seed deep into my pussy, while he leaned over me, smothering my back and neck with gently little kisses. “Thank you, meleth. You did so well. Took me so so good.” He whispered into my ear, before he carefully pulled out and let me sink to the ground.

Then he picked me up, holding me close to his chest, while he walked towards the bathroom. “Lets get you cleaned up and relaxed one last time, before we leave for battle.”

I sat in front of Thranduil, securely wrapped inside his cloak on his elk Moose. We were riding through the ruins of Dale. The golden armor of the elven soldiers shining in the bright winter sun. Suddenly there was movement in one block, a slight rift being made for a darkhaired well looking man to step through. He eyed the elves around him carefully, making his way through the soldiers. Stopping in front of him, he looked at my husband: “My lord Thranduil. We did not look to see you here.”

“I heard you needed aid.” Thranduil said, pointing towards the wagon with food behind him. Quickly the hungry and traumatized faces around us lit up, making a ring around the food to get their fair share. I couldn’t help but feel horrible to see so many people in need, only able to imagine the horrors they must have faced. I jumped down from Moose, instantly regretting it, as the cold made its way through my thick robes. Climbing on the wagon myself, I started to give out food, much to the surprise of my people and Thranduils amusement.

“You have saved us. I do not know how to thank you.” I heard the dark haired man say. But my husband, the stiff man he was around others dismissed his gratitude rather quickly: “Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine. There are stones in that mountain that have been stolen from me.” With a nod of his head, he ordered his army to march towards the mountain, riding Moose with his people.

The other man ran behind my husband, calling out for him: “Wait. Please wait!” Thranduil did indeed stop, turning his head ever so slightly towards the human next to him. “You would go to war over a handful of gems?”

Without looking at him, Thranduil answered: “The heirlooms of my people are not likely forsaken.”

“We are allies in this.” The man pleaded, rougher this time. “My people also have a claim over the riches of this mountain. Let me speak with Thorin.” That made Thranduils head turn and even though I was not able to see his face, I knew the questioning look on his face far to well. “You would try to reason with the dwarf?”

“To avoid war? Yes.” Came the simple answer.

***

Some time later, I found myself in Thranduils tent, desperately wrapping his cloak around my shoulders to find at least some warmth against the cold air. Usually elves weren’t as affected by the cold than humans were, so my husband quickly gave me his robes when he saw me freezing. But I was an exception to that. My long life in Rivendell making me rather fragile against the cold. “Meleth.” Thranduil pleaded. “You should have stayed home.”

“And let you ride to war alone? Nonsense. I will grow accustom to this weather. I am an elf after all. This should not bother me to that extent it does.” I argued back, earning a low huff from my husband. Our discussion was quickly interrupted, before he could retort anything. Gandalf and the human man that I learned to be Bard stepping inside the tent.

“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming. The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You are all in mortal danger!” Gandalf thundered through the tent, making me, Bard and even Thranduil flinch at his words. Bard stepped forward. “What are you talking about?”

“I can see you know nothing of wizards.” My husband rose from his seat. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm.” He handed a goblet of wine to Bard and then to me, before he poured himself one as well. “But sometimes, a storm is just a storm.” He said, looking Gandalf straight into the eyes.

“Not this time.” The old wizard held against. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

“You should listen to him.” I threw in, watching my husband over the edge of my goblet. He sighed, walking closer to me. Bard suddenly snapped his head around, looking at me, as if he was only now realizing, I was in the tent as well. “And who are you?” He asked, a curious look on his face. “Clearly no elf. You are far to small. But you are not one of my people. I know them all by name.” I chuckled as his words, striking aside the high collar of my husbands cloak that hid my ears.

“I am an elf.” I answered holding out my hand. “Elanore. Thranduils wife.” Bard stared at me with wide eyes, bowing his head rather than taking my hand. “Your majesty. I am sorry. I did not know…” I interrupted him. “Fear not, my friend. How could you? I have never been to your lands, nor have you been to mine.” Taking my hand, Bard offered me a smile, that was soon disrupted, by Thranduil grabbing me and simply pulling me into his arms. “Why show his hand now?” My husband asked, turning back to Gandalf, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and arrogance.

“Because we forced him. We forced him, when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” Gandalf said, walking out of the tent, expecting us to follow him. “Azog the defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control over the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies. Its strategic position.” We were now standing on a small platform, watching over the mountain. A harsh wind howling through the ruins around us. “This is the gateway of reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again… Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire. Even Gondor itself will fall.”

My face contorted in fear, thinking of Elrond and Arwen and all the other elves I once called my people. My husband was a bit better in keeping his face in check, but I knew from the look in his eyes that he was also very fearful of what was about to become. “This orc armies you are speaking off, Mithrandir. Where are they?” Gandalf just sighed deeply, his eyes giving answer enough.

***

“Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I am trying to do?” Gandalf and Thranduil where discussing for a while now and I had retreated to the fire of the tent, not really wanting to take part in it.

“I am thinking you are trying to save your dwarves friends. And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not persuade me from my course. You started this Mithrandir; you will forgive me if I finish it.” Then he walked out of the tent. “Are the archers in position?”

“Yes, my lord.” An elven commander stepped in front of my husband, who stood there rigid as ever. “Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it.” The Commander left in a hurry, Thranduil mumbling to himself: “The dwarves are out of time.”

“Herven!” I intervened. “You can not just kill them!” Rising from my seat next to the fire, I stepped towards him, but he was unmoving: “I can and I will. They have been offered help and a treaty. And still. They fled our borders, spat on my late wife, and insulted you in front of all my people. I will not have them disregard my warnings and not pay the prize for it.”

“You heard what Gandalf said! War is coming. We should stand together. Fight the army of orcs and then we can discuss the matter of those stones.” I pleaded, but to no avail. Thranduil simply scoffing, before he wanted to speak again.

But a little hobbit racing into the tent, interrupted him: “If you think, the dwarves will surrender, they wont. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

Gandalfs eyes lit up: “Bilbo Baggins.”

But my husband just threw a look at the hobbit that would have scared the fiercest of men. “If I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” Taking a seat, he signaled me to come over, propping me up on his lap. I watched, as Bilbo looked to the floor in a mixture of sheepish naivety and regret. “Yes…” He gritted out. “Sorry about that.” Bard and Gandalf wore a smile on their lips, and I could help myself but giggle.

“I came to give you this.” Bilbo said, stepping forward and opening up a leather package. Inside of it there was a stone of the size of a fist, sparkling and glowing by itself. Thranduil rose from his seat again, holding me close to him, as he inspected the offer in front of him. “The heart of the mountain. The kings jewel.”

Bard stepped next to him. “And worth a kings ransom. How is this yours to give?” He asked looking at Bilbo, who just shrugged as if it was not a big deal. “I took it as the 14th share of my treasure.”

“Why would you do this?” Bard pressed further. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I am not doing it for you.” Bilbo shook his head. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pig headed and difficult. Suspicious and secretive with the worse manners you can possible imagine, but they are also brave, and kind and loyal to a fault. I have grown very fond of them and I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you what you are owed. There would be no need for war.”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, a silent agreement being formed between the two men.

***

The next morning, I found myself on a horse, clothed in armor. My sword and bow weighing heavily on my body, as I stood besides Thranduil. Suddenly another army appeared behind us. Orders being yelled in Khuzdul. Thranduil quickly turned Moose around riding through the path that was created by his soldiers. I followed him as fast as I could. “Ribo i thangail!” He yelled, ordering them to form a second shield wall towards the back.

Immediately the army moved in their positions in unison, shielding itself against the outside. I was now next to my husband, facing the dwarf that came riding towards us on his war pig. “Ai, Thorin. Ironfoot has come.” He yelled out, waving his hammer above his head. “Good morning. How are we all?” The dwarf asked, stopping a bit away from us on the slope of the hill on top of a big stone. “I have a proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider, just vanishing? All of you! Right now!”

“Stand fast!” Bard ordered his people that were standing between the elven lines.

“Come now, lord Dean.” Gandalf began, walking towards the dwarven Lord.

“Gandalf the grey…” He was greeted. “Tell this rubble to leave, or I will water the ground with their blood.” Gandalf did not stray from his path, angrily hitting his walking stick on the ground. “There is no need for war between dwarfs, men and elves. Aliened orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any elf.” Dean answered. “Certainly not before that faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he choses to stand between me and my kin, I will split his pretty head open. See if he is still smirking then!” Turning around his pig, he rode back to his army and I couldn’t help myself but laugh. “You have to leave it to them. Their insults are quite the charmer.”

Thranduil just rolled his eyes, but I could see his lips twitch a bit. “Let them advance. See how far they get.” In the distance Dean turned on his pig: “You think I would give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy eared princess? I have heard how you prefer to fuck your wife rather than help my kin. You hear that, lads? We are on! Lets give these bastards a good hammering!” His army yelling war cries in Khuzul over the distance.

Thranduil signaled his army to march, riding towards Bard: “Stand your men down, I will deal with Ironfoot and his rubble.” Before us the dwarven army split a horde of goats riding to the front. “Prepare your bows!” Thranduil yelled, the elves drawing their weapons in unison. I as well aimed for the dwarves, even though I did not really want to fight them. But the goats came rushing towards us with full speed. “Shoot!” Came the order from my husband, and I let the first arrow fly through the air, followed by the many others of my people.

Dean yelled something in Khuzul and several rotating arrows made their way, slicing ours in the air and forcing us back when the hit the ground. “How do you like that, you old twidledy whirlies?”

And then the war began. The army sorted itself new, building a shield front behind which I steered my horse around, looking out for a better angle to shoot. But all of the sudden, the floor began to rumble in the distance. Everyone stopped their fights, turning to look at the hill. And what I saw made my blood freeze on the spot. Wereworms I thought to myself. Watching in fear as the big long tentacles burst through the grounds.

The orc horn ringing from the Ravenhill was signaling the arrival of Azog the defiler. “Come forth, my armies!” Azog yelled in the black speech. His words alone sending shivers down my spine. The dwarves immediately turned their back on us, facing the new enemy with great fierceness. I looked at my husband, who just staired at the hill in disbelief and I knew he was not able to give orders. “Pada godref! Dag i glam!” I yelled, riding with the dwarves as well. The elven army immediately started to move, racing after the dwarfs and the battle of the five armies began.

***

At the side of Thranduil we searched through the Ravenhill, turning every body to see, if it was Legolas. Suddenly he came walking around a corner, stopping when he saw us. But I couldn’t help myself. Racing towards him, I pulled the taller elf into a hug, forcing him to bend down to accommodate my arms. “Legolas!” I yelled out. “I was worried sick. I thought… I thought you were dead…” Crying into his shoulder I held him closely not wanting to let go of him. He patted my back awkwardly. “Its alright, naneth. I am alive. There is nothing you need to worry about.”

“Nothing I need to worry about?” I let go of him, smacking him across the head. “You left to accompany the dwarves. No letter, no warning nothing. And the next thing I hear is you scouting out Dol Guldur with Tauriel and fighting here against Borg. There is quite a lot I had to worry about! Speaking of Tauriel. Where even is she?”

That made Legolas look to the side and I feared the worse. “She is out on the platform.” Was all he said, before he walked passed me, slowing in front of his father. “I cannot go back. At least not for a while.” Thranduils shoulders tensed, the blue eyes filling with worry and regret: “Where will you go?”

Legolas stopped and turned back to look at us: “I do not know.”

“Go north. Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father Arathorn was a good man, his son might grow to be a great one.” My husband turned, reaching out for my hand, pulling me to his side as comfort. Legolas smiled sadly while looking at us, before he averted his gaze: “What is his name?”

“He is known in the wild as strider. His true name, you must discover for yourself.” Watching as Legolas walked away, I nudged my husband, who immediately got the hint. “Legolas, you mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.” Stiffly bowing towards his son, he nearly missed the outreached hand of Legolas. I shoved my husband closer, making the two man shake hands, before Thranduil pulled his son in for a hug. “Come back to us when you are ready.” He whispered and I could hear the pain in his voice.

“I will. But not in the near future. Tauriel… I… I need distance.” Legolas answered, before he let go of his father, looking me in the eyes. “Thank you, naneth. Take care of him.”

“I will.” Was all I could press out, before the tears overtook my body, springing from my eyes in silent pain. Thranduil bowed his head, his eyes also filled with tears, but he held them back, hiding his face in my hair, hugging me closely. We cherished each others comfort for a while, before my hearing picked up the faint sobs of a female.

“Tauriel.” I murmured, stepping out of my husbands arms and following the noises. Thranduil was hot on my heels and soon we stumbled upon Tauriel, sitting besides one of the dwarves that were captured by us some time ago. “I want to burry him.” She said, her voice laced with pain and anger.

“Yes.” Thranduil answered her request, lowering his head.

“If this is love, I do not want it.” Tauriel whispered, looking up at my husband with the uttermost pain in her eyes. “Take it from me. Please. Why does it hurt so much?”

Approaching her slowly, Thranduil bowed his head, his voice a soft tenor, trying his best to soothe her pain: “Because it was real.”

That made her head rise again, her expression changing from painful to confusion, to realization and back to pain again. She bent down, pressing her lips on the dead dwarf, before a sad smile crossed her face, sniffling away the tears. Not really knowing what to do, I stayed in the background, watching as my husband knelt down beside her, offering to carry the dwarf down himself.

Weeks later, after the ranks of dwarfs, elves and humans slowly started to find back into their normal life’s, a letter from Elrond reached me and Thranduil. His daughters 2743th birthday was coming up. Lord Elrond had invited us to not only celebrate his daughter but also the reclaiming of Erebor. He even invited those of the fellowship, that survived the battle.

It was the first blossom of spring breaking over Rivendell, so I gladly took the opportunity to dress down on the layers of fabrics I had to wear over the course of winter. Much to the joy of my husband as it seems, because he had a special dress made for me. Another see-through silken dress, this time with a dark green touch to it. For the human and dwarven eye, it might seem modest, but I knew that elven eyes would be very aware of the transparent fabric. It had a deep plunge neckline as always only held in place by a corset, the skirt fanning out in many single trains overlapping to keep me covered but to allow easy access.

Knowing full well that my husband not only picked this dress with a purpose for his own pleasure, but to also show off what he possessed, I wore the dress with pride. It was a silently accepted fact, that neither him nor I were exactly private about our relationship and the course it had taken. Nobody talked about it, but everyone gossiped.

When it was time for the feast to start, Thranduil guided me down the paths of Rivendell. We had arrived the day prior to get accustomed to the new realm and that I could get ready in peace for the great day. I hated being stressed, especially when it came to taking care of my looks. Lord Elrond and his daughter were already to be found at the great clearing where the feast was to be held, and I stepped out of my husbands arm, to greet them.

Hugging both of them, I linked my arm under Arwen to take her on a walk, wanting to catch up on that whole Aragorn thing that was going on in her life. “Soooo, tell me. What's it with Arathorns son that has your father write me letter after letter?”

“My father writes you letters over something this unimportant?” She gasped and I shrugged. “I am his cousin and married to the elven king. It was probably his last resort to ask me out of all.”

“Oh yeah, with your reputation no doubt.” Nudging me slightly, she giggled at her words. Scoffing with a fake hurt expression on my face, I clasped a hand in front of my chest. “My reputation? I sure hope it is only the best.”

“Absolutely. There is only good word about the kings whore that spreads the realms.” Arwen kept on teasing and I stayed in my fake offended persona, calling out for my husband who was only at the end of the long table: “Herven?” He instantly snapped his head around, giving me a soft smile: “Yes, my starlight?”

“Have you heard that I am apparently called the kings whore in these lands?” Letting my eyes convey the jest I put up, he caught it fairly quickly, puffing his chest a bit. “No, I have not. Show me those wicked, that dare to speak ill of my wife. I will have Feren see to them as soon as he is back.”

Seeing all the other elves stare at us in a mixture of disbelieve and slight fear, I had to fight hard to suppress my laugh. I knew that not many believed the king to be a jester himself, so I could only imagine the worry that must run through their veins, seeing him so openly speak a threat. But seeing that Lord Elrond scowled at me, I decided to reveal my bluff, giggling like a child. “I love you, herven. For what you are and thrive to be.” Thranduil knew I was trying to ease the tension, but of course he had to set another stone to the grave: “Your love only fuels my need to protect you from all harm. For as I have promised to cherish and take care of you for all eternity.”

His confession of love, made my giggle subside into a soft smile and I couldn’t help but stand in utter awe of him so openly speak about it. He wasn’t a man to show his emotions that openly through words, but it seemed that the interaction with Tauriel after seeing her in absolute grief over Kili must have made him realize that his previous action had cause much harm to many. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see all of the surrounding servants and early guests stare at us, some even talking behind their hands. But my absolute focus laid upon my husband.

It wasn’t until now, that I realized he had come closer, drawing me in by my hips. “You are the best thing in my life, bereth. Never forget that. I don’t care what others might say, to me, you are the queen I worship.” That’s when he simply bend down, letting his hands rest on my lower back and waist, to kiss me. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it also was far away from a chastise peck on the lips. Only Lord Elrond clearing his throat got us to part again, a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. But Thranduil just proudly wrapped his arm around me.

***

The afternoon changed into the evening and after dinner was served, Lord Elronds servant had the clearing freed from the tables to enable dancing and simple talks and walks through the realm. I found myself wrapped into my husbands arms once again, relishing in his warmth as the spring wind seemed to have dropped a bit in temperature. “Are you cold, meleth?” He asked me, cuddling his head into my neck giving me hot little bites along my collarbone.

Turning in his arms, I took his face into my hands. “Not when you are with me, herven.” I gave him a peck to the lips, which made him smile softly. He tasted like elven wine. Heavy with sweet berries, a flowery note to it. But my body shivering with another breeze, made him sigh. “Feren.” He called out. “Could you please bring my cloak for my wife to warm up?”

“Of course, my king.” Feren answered in his usual soft tone. Moments later he came back with the heavy silver cloak, holding it out for me to slip into, but Thranduil had other plans. Taking it from his servant, he wrapped it around his shoulder and then pulled my back against his chest, closing his arms and the cloak around us. “That’s much better.” He whispered into my ear and I could feel him press me against his crotch.

He was hard, pressing his cock against my lower back. “Are you perhaps drunk, herven?” I asked, letting my hips innocently stroke over his hard member, when I leaned forward, freeing my hand under his cloak to reach for my goblet of wine. Thranduil growled silently behind me, the grip on my hips growing harder. “Of course not. My senses are very clear, meleth.”

“Is that so?” I teased, guiding one hand of his up to my chest underneath his cloak. Still watching the other elves dance freely, I slowly emptied my goblet, letting my husband grope me underneath our cover. The longer I took, the bolder he got, letting his fingers wander underneath my dress and between my legs. “You are not wearing anything else.” He silently stated, one finger pushing itself between my folds. I just emptied my goblet in one last gulp, stepping out of his hold and turning around. “Dance with me, herven.”

I could see his jaw tighten, as he took a deep breath taking a moment to take of his cloak and handing it to Feren. My eyes quickly snapped down to his crotch, seeing that he had sorted himself out, but for anyone looking longer than just a brief wandering gaze would see, that his manhood wasn’t that subtly longing for me.

He was quick to close the distance between us, holding me close to his body when he led us over the dance floor. “You are playing a dangerous game, ithil.” He threatened close to my ear, gently biting my ear lobe. I suppressed a moan, but my voice betrayed my played confidence: “I do? How would you come to that conclusion?”

“The way your eyes are literally undressing me, that ass pressed against me and maybe even the wetness I have already felt between your legs.” Thranduil whispered, forcing his knee between my legs. The music has switched from an uplifting song to a more sensual, intimate one, probably played to coax more couples onto the dance floor. But when my eyes met Arwen who was standing besides Lindir, giving me a thumbs up, I knew she had watched me and Thranduil.

Knowing full well, that she was testing my self-control with this song, I decided to give in to her challenge, letting myself fall even more into the arms of Thranduil. He didn’t seem to have noticed Arwen being responsible for my change in demeanor, but based on his hands wandering from the modest position on my shoulder blade down to my hips, I knew he had gotten my subtle hint to make this dance much spicier.

He not only guided me over the dance floor, but also made our bodies connect in the most sensual way possible, sparking my longing for him more and more. His eyes were trained on my face, eyes cockily challenging my control. A soft sigh left my lips, as he once again whirled me around, letting my core slide down his thigh, when he turned me outwards. “Please.” Was all I said once we were close again and he immediately stopped the dance, literally dragging me from the dance floor. Passing Feren, he grabbed his cloak from his servant. “I will take a hold of that for a while.” Then he just yanked me along, not caring about the many irritated looks we collected on our way out.

We made it down several paths, until we found ourselves beneath the festivities and on the edge of a small collection of trees. Thranduil let go of me, caging me in between a tree and his chest. “I need you.” His voice was coarse, just slightly above a snarl. His demeanor was harsh, the king in him breaking through. “I need you to obey me, meleth. Need you to be my little girl.”

I sank on my knees before him, nestling with his belt. “Let me take care of you.” I whispered, while I pushed down his pants and underwear. His cock was hard and dripping with precum. I wasted no time, taking him into my mouth. And as soon as he sank down my warm throat Thranduils head fell back. Steadying himself on the tree behind me, he loomed over me. A total mess; hair disarranged, eyes closed, lips hanging open.

Slowly I began to move my head up and down, as I watched him through my eyelashes. I wanted him to become agitated. Teasing him with my tongue dancing around his tip. His head fell back, an animalistic moan on his lips. He grabbed me by my hair, immobilizing my head and pulling back. With a sweet pop his member plopped out of my mouth. “Meleth… Please. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” I asked innocently.

“Like a vixen. I can barely control myself. And if you keep looking at me like that, I will lose it completely.”

“Then don’t. Take me. Control me. Make me yours. I am willing to give you everything I have.” The way he clenched his jaw, desperately holding on to the last bit of control he had over his mind, made me feel things I never imagined to feel. My whole body felt like it was set on fire, slowly burning its way to my middle, soaking me with my arousal.

Another growl ripped through his chest as he pushed his cock down my throat. I gagged as he forced himself down. Quickly I relaxed my throat. Drool started to drip down my chin, mixing with tears running from my eyes. Again and again, I choked on his size, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him taking me as he liked it, as he needed me.

“Your mouth feels so good, my little starlight.” He moaned. I hummed with pleasure. His movements were strong, leaving me little room to breathe, but the heavenly feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue suppressed everything.

“Oh god, Elanore…” His grip on my hair grew stronger and I could feel him twitch in my mouth. I let my tongue dance around his shaft and tip, sucking in my cheeks to create more friction. I wanted to taste him, feel his hot seeds trickle down my throat.

His thrusts became irregular and he sucked in a sharp breath. I could see him holding back, waiting for my consent, which I eagerly gave him by nodding as much as he would let me. Again, I felt his member twitch rhythmically as he painted my throat with his seed. I swallowed all of it, without letting my eyes go of his, devotedly licking his member clean.

“Fuck…” He breathed out, carefully pulling me back by my hair. I just smiled at him, seductively wiping my lips with my thumb. “I love the way you get, when you are a little drunk.” I confessed, snuggling into his hand, that was still holding my head. He raised an eyebrow: “What do you mean?” Shrugging I got up from my knees. “You become much needier, openly showing how much you want me.”

“Do I not show my desire enough?” He asked, while putting his pants back on and I could see the tease in his eyes.

“You do.” I scoffed. “I just like both sides on you. The controlled and calculating and the soft and longing one. It just depends on the mood I am in.”

“And what mood are you in right now?” Studying my face intently, he grinned down on me. Winking at him, I stepped under his arm, bringing some distance between us. “One I want to be conquered in.” He got the hint, putting his cloak on the floor, spreading it out for me. Then he prowled around it, fixating me with his eyes. “I will see to ease your desire then.” Without giving any hint beforehand, he pounced at me, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye.

With an ease, I wasn’t prepared for, he simply hoisted me over his shoulder, giving my ass a slap, before he carried me back to his cloak. Handling me roughly to be positioned beneath him. Then he started to slowly open the buttons of my corset one by one, kissing the skin he freed with every hook that came undone.

“I need you, herven.” I mewled, desperately wriggling underneath him, but he just ignored my pleads, keeping his slow pace of undressing me. Once he had opened my corset, he put it aside, to then mind meltingly slow push down each sleeve of my dress, until I could slip out. Now my upper body was freed for him and his lips immediately sank down on one nipple, sucking on it until it grew hard in his mouth. I moaned at the little relief it brought me, desperate for more. Playing with my other nipple with his fingers, he teased me, until I was sure to lose my mind. “Herven…” I pleaded, but he just rose from my chest. “Yes, my little starlight?”

“More.” I whimpered. “I need more.” But he just shook his head. “No, we will take it slow today. I want to savor you.” Kneeling back on his ankles, he started to undress himself, taking his time, while he watched me wriggle on the ground. Only when he had taken off all of his clothes, did he lean over me again. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, wrapping my legs around his hips, I pulled him in. “Stop playing with me and fuck me already.” But he was unmoving like a mountain.

“Beg.” Was all he said, the smile still plastered over his features. My eyes widened in shock. He wouldn’t dare to make me beg for him to fuck me, while we were in the open like this. Any moment someone could stumble upon us, but it seemed like Thranduil did not care one bit: “Beg, or I am stopping it right now.” He repeated, the tone in his voice now sharper, smile changing from cocky to arrogant. I shook my head, feeling the blush creep over my chest and cheeks. “Don’t make me do this…” I whispered.

“Do what?” He asked innocently.

“Herven, please… they are able to hear us.” Still whispering.

“They will hear whole other things coming out of that pretty mouth of yours once I am starting to have my fun with you. So go on, be a good girl and beg your king to fuck you properly.”

The sheer confidence he had, saying those filthy things, made my head reel in desire for him, but I decided to lean a bit further in his game. “Make me.” Those two words were his nemesis and I knew it. I knew that the moment I spoke those words would be the moment he would lose it. And I was right. The smile vanished from his lips in a split second.

Grabbing me under my right knee he flipped me over, pressing me down with as much force as he could muster to not hurt me. Now I had him where I wanted him to be, pushed into the ruthless commanding side of him. My core was throbbing in willing anticipation, sleek being spread all over my thighs. Forcefully, Thranduil pressed my legs apart, kneeling between them. One hand wrapped in my hair, turning my head to the side, while the other held his weight not to crush me. “You wanna play this game? You want me to stop being nice and treat you like a slut?” His voice was raspy, audibly running on the last string holding him together.

“Yes, please.” I moaned, spreading my legs even further and raising my ass up in the air. He let out a rough chuckle, seeing me melt in his hands like butter. “Look at that. All it took was a little force and you are behaving like a bitch in heat. Tell me meleth, do you think you deserve to be fucked like a good girl?” I tried to nod, earning a slight tug on my hair. “Words, little girl.”

“Please.” Was all I could whine, desperately trying to get some release.

“Again.” He rasped.

“Please, Herven. Fuck me. I need you, please.” I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded.

“Finally.” He whispered. “You are begging. Sometimes I wonder if you are putting up this act just to rile me up further. Be honest, is that true, bereth?”

“Hmm.” I hummed, not really caring about his words.

A deep sight came rumbling from his chest. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He asked, pressing a wet kiss on my shoulder. “The hold you have on me is bordering on insanity. I should be the responsible one, taking care of you. And yet here I am, pinning you down on the forest floor, desperately fighting to keep control over myself.” After a short pause he gained his stance back. “And I am the only one who gets to have you. This is all mine. My good little girl.” By the end his voice once again turned into a deep growl, fed by the jealousy of other men looking at me.

Stroking his cock through my folds, he teased me again. Forcing me to be this whining mess underneath him. Lining himself up with my entrance he slowly pushed into me, careful not to hurt me, since he didn’t prepare me before. But I was so riled up by him, that he had nearly no resistance gliding into me. When he bottomed me out, he let out a low groan.

Then he finally started to move. Rolling his hips forward and pressing me down even further. I let out a delighted hum, closing my eyes and gripping the cloak underneath my head harder. “Fuck…” He hissed above me, intertwining one hand again with my hair, while the other stayed pressed against the floor. “Look at me, bereth nin. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” Following his command, I opened my eyes. Getting locked up in his deep blue eyes, now nearly blown black from lust.

Slowly he picked up the speed, not letting go of me. He was now hitting my sweet spot deep inside me at a steady rhythmical pace, that I let out another suppressed moan. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you. Show me how good I make you feel.” Once again, his whole demeanor shifted. Had he been rough and commanding just a second ago, he was now as soft and loving as he could be. Letting go of my hair, he started to caress and stroke my body with feather light brushes. Just ever so slightly that it had me yearning for more.

The way his movements, his thrusts and touches played with my body was pure bliss. I was riding on a hot wave of love and lust toward my abyss. “Oh please…” A loud moan forced itself past my lips, much to the pleasure of Thranduil. He liked, when I was severely reacting to him, always making sure to pull as much pleasure out of me as my body could handle.

He started humming, bending down to kiss me. His lips were hot and hard against mine, still showing that he was indeed holding back for me. Giving me this lovely start. But underneath his well-kept attitude I could feel the need to possess me starting to boil. Him openly holding himself back, to fully commit to my pleasure, send so much love and lust through my body.

The knot in my stomach started to grow immeasurably. This mixed with Thranduil treating my so softly, pushed my emotionally agitated self over the edge. With tears running down my cheeks, I called out for him, now finally not caring about who might be able to hear us. He answered my call with letting go of my head. Only to then bury me underneath him, while pressing down my hands with his bigger ones. “Its alright, starlight. I am right here. You can let go.” He whispered against my ear. “You are doing so good. Such a good little girl. Taking me so well, so obedient. Go on. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock, I know you want to.”

A loud cry on my lips, I came hard. The wall of my orgasm hitting me with pure force. Dragging me over the cliff without any resistance. I was now in a free fall of blissfulness. Slipping in and out of reality, only being grounded by Thranduils low, raspy voice praising me. Bucking against his body I shakily came back to senses, to then get my breath knocked out of my lungs by his hungry kiss. He slowed his movements, letting me regain my stance, giving me a chance of further consent or to stop him from moving on. That’s what has struck me deeply about him from the beginning. No matter what, he was always focused on me giving my consent, to never step over any barrier I had.

“You can let go, herven. Its okey. You wont break me.” I said, my voice still shaky from my orgasm. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, he asked: “Are you sure about that? You don’t have to...” I interrupted him, before he could get caught up in his thoughts too much: “Yes, I am sure. I can feel how you want to go rough with me. Take me. Make me feel good. Make me yours.”

Instantly changing his demeanor, he pushed himself up, effectively pulling me to my knees as well. Then he leaned over me, pressing my face into towards the ground. “I want to hear you. Don’t you dare hold back, understood?” His voice didn’t let any room for discussion, so I obediently answered: “Yes, my king.”

“Good girl.” He rasped, wrapping my hair around his hand to get a better hold of me. Then he picked up a ruthless pace, forcing me to help steady myself with my arms spread out on the floor.

His fast pace had me forget any dignity that might have been left inside my body. Hitting my sweet spot with every thrust, now stretching me deeper than before, had me yelping and moaning out in pure pleasure. The lush sounds he was drawing from my body, mixed with my heavy breathing and his low groans. I could feel my juices from my previous orgasm running down my thigh, getting smeared around with every of his moves.

This right now was far away from the soft, sweet way he had thrusted into me before. He was now railing me without mercy, using me to his full pleasure. But that’s exactly how I wanted him to treat me. As an answer to his behavior, I twitched around his cock, implying my next upcoming orgasm. He pulled me up by my hair to his chest. “You ask before you come, you hear me?” He growled into my ear. Voice strained in sharp control over his inner needs.

“Yes.” I whimpered, not thinking about the consequences of not addressing him with his title.

“Yes what?” He snarled, shoving me down. A sharp slap on my left butt cheek, had me yelp out in pain, but that only seemed to spur him on further. “Answer me!” Another slap followed onto the right side of by behind.

“Yes, my king.” I cried out, again tears pricking in my eyes.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Don’t you dare forget my title, whore.”

“I am sorry, my king. Please…” I begged, squeezing him with my throbbing pussy, not daring to speak the words to beg for another orgasm.

“As you should be. Does a good girl disobey her king?” He pressed on further.

“No, my king. Please. I am close… I cant…” My cries were getting more and more desperate. I couldn’t hold back for much longer, silently praying he would release me. But it was Thranduil we were speaking about. The king of sass and teasing.

“Then what makes you think you get to have another orgasm? Havent I already given you enough? And yet here you are, begging to give you a second one.” I could hear the pure pride of having me at his mercy. It was what got him off the best.

“Please, herven. I cant… I am too close. Let me come, please my king.” I squealed, holding myself together by nothing more than a thread and pure willpower. Luckily, he knew how close I was, because he pulled me up against his chest again. Wrapping his warm arms around my body. “Come, pin iell. Let go for me.”

And that I did. Relaxing into his hold, I let the second wave hit me with all the force and turbulences it brought with it. Far away I could hear myself, moan or much more cry out his name, clawing my fingers to his arms, to gain at least some stability. Only a few moments later, I could feel his cock twitch against the shuddering walls of my core. Spilling his hot seed deep inside of me.

With a deep growl, Thranduil sunk onto the ground, burying me underneath him. I could feel him pressing me down, but luckily, he had enough senses left to support his weight to not crush me. We stayed like this for a few minutes. Dwelling in the existence of one another, before he slowly pulled out. I hissed at this movement, because it now made me painfully aware of the roughness, he had fucked me with. Great, now I wouldn’t be able to walk properly for a few hours if not days…

Carefully he helped me back into my dress, cleaning me as good as he could with a hanker chief, before he took care of himself. When we were dressed again, I tried to sort my hair, him immediately helping to redo my braids. After he had deemed me presentable again, he wrapped his cloak around me, protecting me from the cold that had only now hit my senses again. Slowly we walked back to the festivities, me trying my best to get my stability back and him making sure I would make it back in one piece.

When we had reached the clearing again, I could feel several eyes rake over us, inspecting our appearance in great detail. Lord Elrond stood there, only a few steps away from us. And the look on his face spoke more than I wanted it to be. Scolding both of us with his eyes, he didn’t even walk over to us, when he spoke. It would have been pointless anyways, as it seemed, everyone knew what had happened.

“I know you both are very… indulging in each other. But was there really no other way as to do it in public? This close? Everyone was able to hear her.” Lord Elrond, breathed out, the anger visible on his features. I was averting my gaze, not having the strength to stand up against him. My husband however stepped forward, shielding me with his body. “Oh, did we get heard? What a shame. My apologies.” He said, a fake gasp to his words and I knew that he was wearing the most sarcastic smile on his lips.

Lord Elrond just stuttered, not even caring to address Thranduil by his title anymore: “Thranduil… By Valar I swear…” But he didn’t get any further, my husband interrupting him once again: “There is nothing to worry about anymore. I doubt my wife would be able to handle a second round.” And with that being said, he pulled me over the clearing and towards a small table at the side. Everyone was staring at us and I should have felt embarrassed, but the simple way my husband had turned the accusation around, making it seem as if it was the most normal thing to happen, made me feel way better. And in a way, a great wave of pride washed over me, knowing that Thranduil had just made everyone question their sanity.

#fem reader #smut #slight battle describtions #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil smut #lotr #the hobbit

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crushedgraham · 3 months

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18+ request: in modern/au, fem!reader and Alcina are married and she's a college professor and she's on a zoom call and reader tries to break her composure, like eating her out underneath her desk?

thank you!!!

Getting that A

Pairings: Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Summary: Alcina seems stressed, so much paperwork and now a lecture over zoom? It only seems right as her wife to try and lighten her load - on your knees.

Warnings: Roleplaying, a little degradation, exhibitionism, Modern AU

There are very few people who would willingly listen to two hours worth of art history, but when the lessons were taught by your goddess of a wife? Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe it was the way the vocabulary rolled off her silver tongue or perhaps the designer glasses that sat perched perfectly on the ridge of her angular nose. You couldn’t care for the reason, all you knew was that you were married to the sexiest professor in all of Romania (possibly the world) and she was missing from her rightful spot between your thighs.

Your knuckles knocked quickly against the deep mahogany wood of Alcina’s office door, followed by a distant “Come in.”

Pushing open the heavy door, your eyes immediately fixate on Alcina’s powerful figure sitting behind her desk. You shoo the lustful thoughts away as you note the stacks of paper scattered across the desk along with a pale finger rubbing at her brow bone - a habit you’ve come to know when your wife is particularly stressed.

“Draga? Is everything alright?” You’re snapped out of your own little world by weary blue eyes searching yours.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I brought your lunch up since you skipped breakfast.”

She resumes her incessant scribbling as you gently rearrange a few papers to make room for the tray. “How sweet of you, my love. Thank you.”

Though she made no move to react any further, her eyes remained glued to the documents. Taking this as a challenge, you saunter around the desk until you're by your wife’s side. Your hands glide along the neatly rolled sleeves that cling just enough to her forearms, up to her tense shoulders where your fingers press into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Alcina’s reaction is immediate, her hand stilling, her long eyelashes fluttering shut and the sinfully low groan that rumbles deep from within her chest.

“You’ve been working so hard, take a break, baby.” Your breath tickles the shell of her ear and you punctuate the end of your sentence with a nip at her earlobe.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, I have a zoom lesson in five minutes.” Her tone is threatening but all it does is make you want her more.

Alcina was a very experimental woman and that extended into your sex life. There was a particular kink that you knew she had that had been untouched for quite some time. This was quite a fitting situation to strike at it.

“I’m sure I could help you de-stress and listen to the lecture at the same time, professor.”

Her eyes meet yours, silently asking if this is what she thought it was, all you offer is a cheeky grin as you kneel like a saint at the feet of their goddess - you were always ready to worship your lady.

“Let me help you, professor, please?”

The space underneath her desk is slightly larger than an average sized desk because Alcina was anything but average. From this angle, she got a wonderful view of your cleavage that your tight dress top did little to conceal. She might not outwardly express it but the dilation of her pupils was all the encouragement you needed to nuzzle your cheek against the cold metal of her belt buckle - your hands groping and squeezing the strong muscle of her thighs.

Alcina tuts at your neediness, “Such a slut. Well go on, prove yourself useful and I just might let you pass.” She goes back to work, now clicking away at her computer to get the zoom meeting ready.

You unbuckle her belt with vigor, dropping it on the floor with a soft thud when it makes contact with the plush rug that aids your exposed knees that will surely bruise after this. The button on her suit pants is stubborn and takes a bit of cautioned yanking that earns you a glare but you undo it nonetheless. You tug the pants down just below her knee caps, revealing her lacy black underwear. Alcina spares you one last glance before clicking the “start meeting” button, students knowing your wifes strict rule of punctuality, begin flooding into the meeting.

The heady smell of her arousal mixed with the accents of her perfume and cigarettes mix to create an aphrodisiac that only you would ever witness. Shuffling forward, you press your tongue flat against the wet patch that stains the center of her underwear. The faint taste adds to the burning heat between your own thighs. Hungry for more, you yank the delicate lace to the side - a moan nearly slipping out from your lips as the sight of Alcina’s puffy, wet pussy is on full display for you.

Her voice, deepened by her lust, begins the lecture but it sounds worlds away to you. Your wife is notorious for her powerful voice, which is just as commanding and boisterous in bed. And as much as you’d love to make her scream your name - you didn’t want the undeserving students in the call to witness what solely belongs to you. To avoid this, you begin by slowly cleaning the insides of her thighs where her slick has collected. Your tongue trails up the sides of her cunt, narrowly missing her soaked folds. Alcina glares down at you over the rim of her half-moon glasses, her nostrils flaring from the teasing that she couldn’t stop you from carrying out.

But for both your sanities, you finally relent. Pressing your tongue against her swollen clit draws a shaky exhale through her nose and a feather light whimper from yourself. Your tongue stays there, drawing little circles before dipping down to taste her straight from the source. Above you, Alcina digs her manicured nails into the top of her desk in an effort to keep her tone even. Yet when you stuff your tongue inside her, her composure quickly begins to crack. Her velvety walls clench against your slick muscle as you work it in and out of her needy slit, her body twitching as the tip of your tongue presses against the spongey little spot inside her that you know all too well.

Alcina quickly asks a question, allowing one of her students to answer, giving her a brief moment to focus on your motions. Her hand sneaks down to thread between your locks, her grip is tight and the sharp points of her nails scrape against your scalp ever so slightly. The added pressure to your head pushes your face further into her pussy, your nose now rubbing just right against her clit. The new friction against her clit mixed with the scandalous situation sends her to the brink of cumming embarrassingly fast. A large black pump gets thrown over your shoulder, the heel digging into your shoulder blade. The burn from both the heel and her nails along with your own arousal that drips from underneath your skirt encourages you to ignore the aching in your jaw and fuck your wifes dripping cunt faster.

“I apologize but a family emergency has c-come up. I will pick up from where we ended next week.” Her rushed excuse doesn’t register in your head but the obscenely loud moan after she ends the meeting does.

You get one last thrust in before her walls start twitching, constricting your tongue - forcing you to helplessly take the coating and gushing of cum. It clings to your tongue as you pull it out from her pulsing cunt, taking a long pause to enjoy the taste as it slides down your throat when you swallow.

“So professor, how was that? Surely A plus worthy.” You question smugly.

Alcina rests her head back against the leather headrest of her plush office chair, her eyes shut as she basks in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“Perhaps a B minus at best.”

An offended and quite appalled gasp rips from your drenched lips as you stare incredulously at her. She opens one eye to look down at you, her face completely neutral before she cracks a grin, little giggles tumbling out before they turn into full laughs.

“Joking, darling! I can’t help myself when you react so adorably.” She rolls her chair back to give you enough space to lift you up into her lap. You refuse to look at her, your bottom lip pushed out in a pout and your arms crossed securely over your chest.

“Oh? Is my little dove upset with me? What a shame, I only give rewards to those who don’t pout and ignore their amazing wives.” Alcina noses along the curve of your neck, red lips passing the color of her expensive lipstick onto your skin. Her fingers deftly reach under your skirt to trace your cunt through your thoroughly soaked panties.

“I- I want a-an A..!” You whine out.

Watching Alcina unravel so beautifully nearly brought you to your own orgasm, untouched. Still, you were turned on and your sensitivity was cranked all the way up. A throaty chuckle reverberates against your skin.

“And you got your A, Dragul meu.” She rises to press her lips against yours in a slow kiss, she invades your mouth, moaning into the kiss at the taste of herself. Though the moment is broken when the sound of the front door opening followed by the loud bickering of your three daughters echoes into the large office. You drop your head onto Alcina’s chest with a groan.

“I didn’t even get to cum…”

“We both need a shower, perhaps I could give you your reward there.”

That was all you needed before you were booking it to your bathroom connected to your bedroom. Alcina shaking her head in amusement at your antics while redressing.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village

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darthgloris · 3 months

Text

2AM THOUGHTS #9: backshots with husband!Vader

It was no secret that Darth Vader had a strong personality. It was reflected in everything, from the way he walked with confidence to his assertive demeanour, which was not aided by his intimidating posture, his towering height and his breastplate that accentuated his broad shoulders and ample chest. And as the packaging advertises, when it comes to his husbandly duties he's nothing short of a menace.

He is possessive, and he is dominant, and he takes you with this raw, animalistic lust that is unmatched in anything else he does.

You knew that he loved and appreciated you greatly, even if he expressed it in his own way, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't like how rough he was with you. He'd have you sobbing and screaming his name so loud that it'd travel through the walls and reach the ears of whoever was nearby, showing them who you belonged to. He loved to fuck you from behind, that was when he was the most rough.

"Vader..." you howled, fingers gripping at the white sheets stained with your drool. The sound of his skin banging roughly with yours had him pawing at the meat of your ass as growls and groans of pleasure rumbled from his throat.

His thrusts made your eyes roll to the back of your head, mewls and whines falling from your lips with strings and blobs of saliva. He tangled his fingers in your curls and gripped at the roots of your hair, pressing your face into the mattress and tilting his hips to pound into you impossibly deeper and harder. The new angle made you almost scream and you clawed at the sheets, just like you did on his back when he'd fuck you face to face.

"You wanna wake up the whole ship?" He growled, leaning forward to clamp his hand over your mouth, muffling your cries. "Yeah? You want everyone to hear who fucks you this good?"

He pulled out to slap his cock on your folds, rubbing the tip up and down your wet slit. You whimpered at the teasing, which turned into a loud moan when he intruded your entrance once again with a sharp thrust. He started grunting and growling, his noises synchronized with your own as the surface of his thighs slapped against your ass.

His breath began shuddering, indicating his impending orgasm. His pace doubled in speed, now moaning and groaning as he chased his high. He pressed your face into the pillow and pinned your arm behind your back to get better leverage and jackhammered into you, his hips now curling forward as he hissed in pleasure. He threw his head back and let out a loud groan as he shot his thick spurts of cum into you, crumbling on top of you while weakly rutting into you in an attempt to push his cum deeper into you.

His weight on your back managed to push you over the edge, flooding around his cock. A soft moan fell from his lips as he felt your cum and he pressed a small kiss to your shoulder in appreciation and sighed, trying to catch his breath. "You did so good, took my cock so good..."

#star wars #anakin skywalker #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #darth vader x reader #darth vader smut #darth vader #anakin skywalker smut

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 11 months

Text

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 4: Love

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Here be the fourth chapter of the rework - you’ll all recognise this one! There’s some minor changes made to flow on with the previous stuff, but beyond that, it’s the OG third chap. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs, my slap daddy lobster Ange, for reading through this chapter for me and making sure I’m not uploading total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

Daemon supposes it is true what they say about Targaryens—that they are proud and violent and easy to incite to desire and madness. He lives up to the name, he supposes.

Now that his want has come to light, he cannot erase you from his mind. He withdraws to his chambers for the next few days, making his presence around the Keep as scarce as he can so that he might avoid you. The prospect of looking at you—your wide-eyed innocence, trusting open expression, still his littlest girl beneath all that ripening—and recalling the depths of his degeneracy each time he meets your eye seems an insurmountable task.

But a new issue arises. He finds he quite literally cannot rid the image of you from his musings, the enemy that is his own thoughts discovering some new wretched path to you in all he does to seek distraction. His books remind him of your love for old Valyrian histories and poetry, of sitting with him, a great tome spread out further than your little arms could extend and reciting the letters in a halting tongue. Training with the sword strikes memories of how you’d fiddle with the pommel of Dark Sister whenever you stood by him, alerting him to your presence far easier than his own eyes ever could. Attempting to govern a bout of cyvasse is utterly dull with only himself as an opponent, and—blast it all—prompts reminiscence of how you’d choose to sleep soundly in his lap as a tot, wet smacking mouth darkening the front of his doublet as he’d match minds against Viserys with only one hand free, the other keeping you chained to slumber with gentle pats to the bottom.

Resistance is fruitless. And so, he gives into the desire. For the first time in years, he unfastens his breeches and takes his cock out with the intention of spending in his own hand.

How mightily I have fallen, he thinks drolly, spitting in his palm, grasping his shaft and allowing his imagination to conjure the likeness of sweet eyes and full mouth and shapely breasts, a precious little gift just waiting for the right recipient to unwrap and play. He thinks of your soft little hands and soft little voice, how darling you would look with those same hands on his cock and your stare wide and trusting, whispering his name in naïve question as he coaxes you to his completion, gifting you a pretty pearl necklace for a pretty little girl—

“Fuck!” he moans, seed splattering over his fist.

It stains his breeches and drips over his boots, inspiring sudden gladness that he hadn’t thought to revisit Sirille’s whore or seek out another of his old haunts, for not bending some meaningless fuck over and exerting his lusts on a cunt worth mere coppers in coin. The speed of his release would have been thoroughly humiliating. Wiping his hand distastefully upon his shirt, he wonders at how best to resolve his growing problem.

It is a problem. How you have unmanned him! How insipid it is to long for a girl of seventeen as though he is some pockmarked, upstart lad of lesser standing! If he were dull-witted, his ire at himself might very well drive him to rail at you for the manner in which you’ve ensorcelled him. But doing so will not aid his particular malady.

The brothel…Perhaps the answer lies in the past. The instant he thinks it, he wishes he hadn’t.

No. He shouldn’t ruin you. He will not ruin you. Besides, you had been deterred rather than encouraged by even his lightest provocations, his half-hearted flirtation failing utterly. In the face of his veiled innuendos and covetous stares, you had retreated into yourself, pulling away and levelling him with that soft, reproaching little mouse-glare of yours. Any other maiden and he would double down, pursue until he had overrun them and given them little choice but to lift their skirts and let him steal away their virtue. Yet, this brings him distinct discomfort. He cannot abide the notion of despoiling you so ignobly.

Daemon wonders at the hesitation, for it had brought him little pain to do the same to his eldest niece. He considers that because it had always been his intention to shore up his own succession—by either wedding Rhaenyra or destroying her reputation, getting her out of his way—the thought of doing the same to you had never crossed his mind.

Hm. What can he do, then? Wait for this—this feeling—to pass? He is the blood of the dragon, true; and, like the flame from which those winged beasts were born, he burns hot and bright and stinging—until the flame flickers away, doused by the merest brush of air or touch of water. In moments of want, it becomes a need, something he would kill and die to possess, and then another obsession takes hold. Men of passion—men like him—are so rarely faithful to their fancies.

Alas, you are no ordinary woman; it stands to reason that his lust is no ordinary yearning. You are everything he has ever envisioned in an ideal bride. The right bloodline. The right family name. The right temperament. These things alone…

It does not even take into consideration the simplest fact—that, though time and circumstance has changed so much, there is nothing that can destroy his deepest affection for you, his sweet little niece.

No closer to devising his way forward, Daemon does what he can to evade encountering you. It is hardly an effort, for you seem to perpetually cycle between the same activities and yet, simultaneously, are nowhere to be found. He shuns the obvious places—the library, your Hightower siblings’ rooms, Rhaenyra’s solar, the courtyard, the garden—and even deigns to add the training yard and the kitchen to the list. Luckily, he seems to have either frightened you off or had simply chanced upon a rare occurrence in which you were discoverable.

After four more mornings, he is unsurprised to see you absent once more from your father's table to break your fast. You have missed the previous occasions, too. A sennight and a day had been more than enough time for him to decide that he detested these mealtimes. Quite obviously an attempt on his brother's part to foster unity between the squabbling factions in his family, he is usually faced with the choice of either indulging in the bickering of the children or pretending he gives a fuck about anything the Hightower woman has to say. Not that Her Grace has been particularly interested in engaging him in conversation. Instead, she carefully plays the part of ignorance, watching him from directly across the table with her beady little eyes each time he so much as moves. Loathsome bitch. She must have a magical cunt for Viserys to have managed to pump four of those wretched spawn into her.

This is why he is startled when Rhaenyra and Laenor enter with their two boys, followed swiftly by you and that idiot Cole. You have an air of irritation about you, as though you had been interrupted at your leisures when your elder sister had come to collect you for the first proper meal you would see in days.

The sight of Rhaenyra—as lovely a sight as it is—sends a weak thud of hurt through his chest. But it is the sight of you that inspires a far greater reaction.

You are no less striking in the morning light that streams in from the open balcony. Garbed in a short-sleeved gown of powdered blue and wild hair pulled back in a simple braid, the adjustments only serve to emphasise the parts of you that had changed in the ten years since he had last seen you. Half-convinced that his first meeting with you was an inexplicable fever-dream sent by the gods to taunt him, he is once more besieged by the sight of your rose-bloom lips, your bare throat—why the fuck do you not wear jewels to cover up all that exposed flesh, the sight is positively lewd—and charming little tits peaked in maiden's flirtation. The dress does little to hide your endowments from his rapacious gaze, for all its modest bodice and looser fit.

He does his best not to let his turmoil play out on his face as you move further into the room. Laenor drops into the empty seat beside him, narrowing his eyes in a manner that suggests he’s noticed where Daemon’s attention has been focused. The lad’s fair to suspect him—his exploits in the Stepstones hadn’t been limited to warfare, after all.

“Father, Daemon,” Rhaenyra greets, settling herself down next to her husband.

He finds the noted absence of greeting to the Hightower woman wildly entertaining. While it is not lost on her, the Queen has deigned to overlook the arrival of her once-best friend. Instead, she turns to survey her ailing King in an affectation of care. He decides it is only polite to return his eldest niece’s salutation. Rhaenyra smiles in response to his well-wishes, an acknowledgement of his words and nothing more.

"Good morrow, daughter!” Viserys says to his eldest, looking fondly down the table as his grandsons are settled in at their seats. His gaze moves to you. “Ah, child! We haven't seen you in an age!"

He has brightened in excitement at his first glance of you, and you smile sweetly at him as you pass by to press a kiss of greeting to your father's balding head.

"My apologies, Papa," you say to Viserys warmly. “I have been ever so preoccupied with my studies, you see. I did not wish to fall behind.”

“Studies, my girl? I had rather thought you were avoiding Lord Denys again!”

He has to grit his teeth at the mention of that idiot. What in the Seven hells is Viserys thinking, allowing a lackwit like the Rose of Highgarden anywhere near you? To think that he’d be willing to ship you off to so ordinary an existence as the Lady Tyrell. The blood of the Freehold, forced to mingle with farming stock. What dishonour!

At the mention of the lord, your earnest little stare transforms into a myriad of quick-vanishing demonstrations of your distaste for the man. Daemon is savagely glad to see it.

“That, too.” You beam when your father laughs. It is a most pleasing expression on your features, a guise that erases the lingering pensiveness clinging to you like a second skin—one that you should always bear.

Would that he could replace the gloom that reclaims you so soon after.

“Darling.”

Alicent frowns at him from her position at his brother’s side. She appears to have caught him looking, not that he cares overmuch for her judgement. It intrigues him that she appears to be addressing you. He had thought the family quite divided by old and new—and as Aemma’s last living child, that places you firmly in the former category.

She smiles up at you, gesturing you toward her. “Come sit by me.”

Clearly, his assumption is incorrect. You happily proceed around your father to sit in the empty seat beside the Queen, placing you next to the youngest one, Daeron. He can only remember the name due to its similarity to his own. You grin fondly down at the boy, and it is easy to imagine you doing the same one day with his own son. You ruffle his hair when he makes an exclamation of your name, disregarding the snide glances offered to you by the older two. Ah, that is more like it.

“What are you working on currently, sister?” Rhaenyra interrupts his musings from next to Laenor, wordlessly reminding young Lucerys to pause his chatter while eating.

His mouth upturns when he sees you brighten, stopping in the middle of selecting fruits and cheese and pastries to pile on your plate. The shame feels like a distant memory as he watches you, dish aloft in your hand while you enthusiastically turn to engage with your older sister.

“I have been consulting with Ser Lysan on writing a compendium of the Dothraki language,” you say excitedly.

Who the fuck is ‘Ser Lysan’? And what in the Seven hells is she doing learning Dothraki? Daemon’s brow raises sceptically as he mulls over the fact that you—a sweet little untouched princess—appear to have dealings with horse-fucking, barbarous brutes in the East.

“There is some debate as to how we will proceed,” you add, carefully side-eyeing the oldest of the Hightower boys as he snickers at your pronouncement, “as our letters do not correspond correctly with the phonetics of their speech. We will have to either take creative liberties or devise additional symbols to signify these sounds.”

Perhaps he has woefully underestimated you. You seem to possess an intellect that may well be formidable—at least when it comes to your philosophies and languages. A fascinating paradox of a girl, he thinks, to be so clever and unknowing all at once. For all your book learning, there is much about the world you lack understanding of. It is tempting to remedy this in the most depraved manner possible.

Not here. Not now.

“That sounds… interesting.”

Rhaenyra sounds anything but interested. Does anyone take interest in your pursuits? Anyone at all? Looking around the table at the uncertain faces of those you call family, it appears not. No wonder you seem so alone.

“Dothraki, of all the languages to learn?” he asks. “An interesting pursuit for a princess.”

You make direct eye contact with him, arranging your features into a facade of polite courtesy; it is closed off, withdrawn, and you return your plate to its place upon the table.

“I am learning, yes.” You absent-mindedly reach across the little one beside you to remove a silver-handled knife from the second-eldest boy—Aemon, is it not?—and place it out of his reach. It is a good call; he had been poking the surface before him with the tip, gouging small divots into the wood. You disregard his protestations, continuing your line of thought. “I would not claim to be proficient, however. It is a complex language, and I have not studied it for long enough to consider myself fluent.”

“It is a savage language.” The eldest of the Queen’s sons has an expression fixed in what Daemon can only assume is meant to be a look of disdain. As ugly as the boy is, the effect is rather lost on present company. “No wife of mine will occupy herself with such things.”

This one too? Unbelievable. It would make more sense to betroth you to your brother than to the Lord of Highgarden. If only the brother in question wasn’t so… pathetic. Pathetic now—but when he becomes a man, a true peril to any chance she may have at happiness.

He swallows back bile at the thought. However would you survive being bound to a sneering wretch who sought to stifle any joy you might experience, and all for the sake of control? It is too harsh a fate for someone so pure.

You frown softly, shoulders squaring off in your disapproval. “Just because their culture is different, Aegon”—ah, yes! No wonder he was such a disappointment with a name such as the Conqueror’s to try and fail to live up to—“does not mean they are savages.”

His nose flares with the necessity of suppressing his own amusement. Such guilelessness; such gullibility! You really are too sweet.

“They fuck their horses, don’t they?” Aegon asks disparagingly, echoing exactly what he had been thinking only moments prior.

The younger boy titters beside him. You open your mouth to respond, brow wrinkled in affront, when the Queen cuts across you.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” she says sharply, and the boy abruptly withdraws, tucking his head down and quietly resuming his meal with a muttered apology.

As a lull falls across the remaining occupants of the room, all that can be heard is the scraping of utensils over dishware and the hissing remonstrations of the Queen to her eldest, whispered reminders of how princes ought to treat those they are courting. Given that the recipient is three places down from her—and you are, in fact, between them—her words are neither quiet nor tactful. Your head bows, lower lip quivering only once, pretending not to hear as you pick apart the remnants of food on your plate.

“An intellectual, my daughter is.” Viserys breaks the stillness with forced joviality, engaging him in conversation once more.

He had paid little attention to the spat—no doubt avoiding his fatherly responsibilities as he has done since time immemorial, long since used to ignoring the conflict that sparks beneath his very nose. Daemon is simultaneously fond and contemptuous of his brother, the years having done little to change the spinelessness so central to his personality as man and monarch both.

“Always learning something new,” the man says merrily, “always needing books and tutors to satisfy that mind of hers. She would be a maester of the Citadel, methinks, had she been born a man.”

She would be Prince of Dragonstone if she had been born a man, Daemon snorts to himself, and I’d not need be sitting here with the Hightower bitch and her offspring.

“Papa!” A pretty flush reddens your exposed ears and the apples of your cheeks.

He trails the path of the blush as it spreads to your chest, most assuredly travelling down to kiss the shy swell of your breasts under that damned raised neckline. He has never hated an item of clothing quite so much as he does your gown.

“That Ser Lysan Marios of hers,” the King explains. “A man from the Free Cities, do you know? She was ever so delighted when I solicited his services.”

A tutor, then. But what is his place in your life? This is what Daemon wishes to know.

“He is a respectable gentleman,” Rhaenyra says, no doubt having witnessed his perplexity. “Though it’s quite amusing, really; for an old man like him, he is rather adept at making his way about the Keep unnoticed. You’d think someone with such poorly knees would be easier to find.”

He hadn’t truly believed your tutor to harbour untoward feelings for you, but relief suffuses him, nonetheless. An elderly man with weak joints could hardly muster the energy nor stamina to seduce his young charge—especially a burgeoning little nymphet like you, so reserved and restrained, desperate for release from the bonds of propriety. His gut tightens at the image he has conjured.

“We always leave a note, ’Nyra,” you say, your posy-petal lips frowning.

“And by the time I send someone to find you, you have moved off elsewhere.”

You hum an agreement, picking still at the remainder of your meal. Daemon spies the Hightower woman’s pointed glare over you, the quailing of the eldest boy. The lad clears his throat and turns to you.

“Sister. Would”—he pauses to clear his throat again—“would you… care to take a turn around the garden with me? At, er—the hour of the boar?”

How the fuck has he managed to make it worse?

Daemon almost preferred his snobbish spite over this pitiful attempt at flattery. If he’d been uncertain as to the boy’s success at winning you over, he’s not anymore. There’s scarce to be any maiden who would accept such a snivelling offer.

You appear rather baffled. “Oh. I appreciate the offer, Aegon… but I am afraid I have plans then.” A polite smile of contrition curves your lips.

Your brother does not like this. With a barely restrained sneer, he begins to respond. “But—”

“—I am intending to visit Athfiezar,” you cut across, placid as ever. “You are welcome to accompany me there, if you wish?”

The boy blanches. “No!” He says, shaking his head.

You make a soft noise of acknowledgement, allowing your focus to drift to the small one immediately beside you. And, with that, the conversation ceases entirely.

Rhaenyra was right in asserting her inability to pronounce the name of your feral mount. The guttural inflections in your honey-sweet voice speak to something wild and untamed, a spark of the magic that had brought his line to life so long ago.

“Interesting name.” Daemon is unable to help himself. You blink disconcertedly at him as he speaks. It is the second time in as many occurrences that he has seen your countenance alight with startlement at his address. A nervous little morsel, you are. “A Dothraki word, is it?”

He can only assume this. Based on his few dealings with the horde of savages during his time in Essos, the word sounds similar to the harsh utterings of the khalasar.

“Yes,” you say, a pleased look crossing your visage. “It means ‘love’.”

What a name for such a monstrous creature. A little girl christening her first barn cat, all soft skin and sweet smile and doe-eyed delight. You squint at Rhaenyra when she chuckles softly. It seems he isn’t the only one to have such a thought.

You turn back to him. “He does not take well to others, I fear.”

That is an understatement. From all his existing knowledge of the wild leviathan, from his experiences with the beast growing up, from tales he had gleaned from around the capital, from accounts of old acquaintances and the from gossip of his family, your dragon—the fucking Cannibal, and isn’t that a story he’d like to hear—was an utter lunatic, as unhinged and vicious as he always was. Except, it seems, with you.

“A right bastard, too,” Laenor murmurs under his breath, just within Daemon’s earshot. “Do you know how many Keepers we’ve had to replace since that thing came to King’s Landing?”

He can imagine. Dragon, livestock and human alike, the dragon had little care for what it slayed, seemingly fulfilling itself on the blood-and-gore high of butchery. The thought of laying eyes upon such a creature thrills him to the bone.

You levy him with an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly. “Would you like”—you hesitate—“would you like to meet him, Uncle?”

Only a fool could refuse a proposition like that. Not in the least because of the Cannibal—well, so few would ever have the opportunity to come close to the beast and live to tell the tale. Through you, it may well be possible that he would get that chance.

But, moreover, how can he say no to your timid, earnest entreaty, the proverbial hand of offering held out and just waiting for yet another rejection? Hope draws your brows in a pleading arch, lips wet and parted, and it calls to mind the face of a much younger you, far freer in begging for his attention. Who could possibly deny you?

His mouth settles the matter before his mind has decided.

“I’d be glad to,” he says, warmed by the sunny beam that stretches across your face, bringing bright light to your eyes and a merry flush to your skin.

It occurs to him then that he has just invited himself to an entire span of unaccompanied time alone with you. You—the object of his waking reveries, his darkest deliberations, his filthiest wants.

Perhaps this will be what finally drives him mad.

The wheelhouse ride is a revelation—and not quite for the reason he expected.

You are surprisingly easy to converse with; high praise, coming from him. He is not one to enjoy casual discussion, finding most people utterly insipid, especially those of suitable station. Princes and lords and magisters are always far too concerned with crowing of their riches to be of much interest—and the women are hardly worth engaging with unless it is to persuade them to drop their smallclothes and let him bend them over in some abandoned hall.

It might just be his fixation upon you that makes you so fascinating. He cares not for the reason. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the rarity of the moment, listening to you talk about the weather, the food, the changes made to the city since his departure.

“We have been getting an increase in grain from the Reach, I believe, in return for silks and spices from Driftmark,” you say, filling the transport with the dulcet tones of your pretty little voice.

He wonders at how you have come to know this information.

“Papa allows me to be his cupbearer during Small Council sometimes.” Pride overtakes your expression. “I am not present often, but it is nice when he asks.”

It is expected of Rhaenyra as the heir to attend in her youth, but no such presumption falls upon you. How interesting that Viserys has chosen to allow his second daughter to be involved in the running of the Realm, small a part as that may be! Daemon had not thought his brother observant of you in any capacity whatsoever. In this, he’s happy to be wrong.

When you arrive at the Dragonpit, your faithful guard-dog Cole is waiting for you, having ridden ahead to secure the location for his young charge. Daemon rolls his eyes as the knight offers you his arm, assisting you down the steps and to the ground. You gratefully thank the Kingsguard—he has to clench his jaw tightly to resist saying something snide at the look of slavish devotion on the whoreson’s face—and take out leather gloves of deep black, a stark contrast to the blood red of your riding habit. You wear the Targaryen colours exceedingly well.

“Now, Uncle,” you say seriously, turning to him. “I do not usually meet Athfiezar at the Pit, so it is imperative that you do as I say.”

It makes sense that the dragon seeks refuge outside of the Dragonpit. The beast did not seem one to willingly enshrine itself in chains. His brow quirks in entertainment at your command, a war general in the shape of a little girl with a woman’s body, but tips his head regardless.

“Of course.” He has no wish to die for the sake of pride.

The Dragonkeepers have already begun to shift nervously in the open, unprotected space. What follows illuminates him as to why. He is startled when you stop in the middle of putting your gloves on to place your fingers at your mouth and release a loud whistle. The sound echoes toward the cavernous entrance of the building before you and sets off a cacophony of ringing screeches and roars from within. He cringes as the blast of noise assaults his ears and wonders what in the hells you were intending by doing such a thing.

Suddenly, a low rumble resonates through the air. He casts around for the origin of the din, seeing nothing cresting the horizon. Out of nowhere, there is an unearthly shriek. A hulking black shape tumbles from the cover of cloud, rapidly gaining size as it approaches.

The Dragonkeepers bark panicked orders to each other, rushing to clear the space before his little niece. “Inkot selās! Inkot selās!” Move back! Move back!

Daemon wonders through a wave of sheer panic if he ought to follow the Keepers’ example and dive for shelter, dragging you with him. The dragon isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It is now close enough for him to make out the grim scores of scars marking its head, the eerie verdigris orbs glowing ominously within its immense skull, the sheer musculature forming one of the largest specimens of Old Valyria alive today. The dragon is quite dissimilar to the other Targaryen specimens, he notes, stouter and stockier and yet more serpentine than the winged creatures the Conqueror had brought to Westeros some hundred years before. He wonders if it is true that this one is from a different lineage entirely. He had never gotten close enough to survey it before now.

The great lumbering thing alights upon the dome of the Dragonpit, crawling with surprising agility to the edge of the structure and peering down. It sends a clatter of rubble spilling from the sides of the great dome as it crackles under the weight of it. At the sight of the Keepers huddled behind dragonglass shields, curled to the ground in vain protection of themselves, the Cannibal opens its mouth and screams. It is a haunting, hair-raising resonation that sends chills down his spine and near freezes the blood in his veins.

“Athfiezar!”

His gaze, having been transfixed upon the most terrifying entity he had witnessed in years, shifts to you. You have stepped forward, seemingly without a care, arm outstretched and calling happily up to the reptilian brute. He is about to pull you back toward him when he observes what might be the most deranged, impossible scenario imaginable.

The dragon stops.

It stops.

“Kesīr māzīs, Athfiezar!” you call again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. Come here!

Emitting a deep keening, its eyes split to you, pausing its rampage as it takes in the sight of you below. Daemon huffs an exhilarated laugh as the winged serpent cocks its head, pauses, and then begins scaling its way down the stone formation. It is heedless of the damage it is doing to the establishment as it tears its way through rock like parchment, wiggling down to touch down upon the ground before the mouth of the Pit. The beast is surprisingly light upon its feet for its sheer size, second only to the great she-dragon, Vhagar.

He can only watch on in amazement as you stride forward to meet your mount. The famed Cannibal bends its massive frame down so that you may lay your hand upon its snout and coo something tender and indeterminable from a distance away. The wyrm growls softly, slowly pressing itself against you as you talk. The Dragonkeepers have not yet moved from their protective stances, spaced out around the yard and cowering behind obsidian safeguards.

What the fuck.

And then, you are walking back toward him, an air of contentment unlike any he had witnessed about you emanating from your person and echoed in the radiant joy upon your visage. With your giant beast as a formidable backdrop, you look every inch a Targaryen conqueror. It is a most unexpected evolution in the child that had preferred to entertain herself by reading than by journeying to the Pit to see Syrax or Caraxes. The sight makes him breathless.

You are glorious.

“Kepus,” you say, reaching out to him. He is somewhat amazed to see you are the same person, the same girl with the same charming eyes and delicate features and alluring form, that you have not somehow metamorphosed into a goddess from ancient Valyria. “Would you like to meet him?”

His answer is immediate, wordless. When he grasps onto your hand, he notes that your grip is much firmer, more solid and more real than it had been the week before. You are in your element here, at peace within yourself and with the dragon feared by the entire world. You pull him gently with you towards the creature, unfaltering even in the wake of the chitters and low hisses it emits when it observes a newcomer heading its way.

“He will not hurt you,” you say kindly. “You are with me.”

The affirmation warms him. When you are a small distance away, you release his hand, stepping in front of him to murmur softly to your mount once more.

“Ñuha kepa bisy issa, ñuhus taobus,” you call mellifluously, once more extending your palms to stroke along the dragon’s head. It nudges you lightly, and you laugh in response. “Ziry ōdrikō daor.” This is my uncle, my boy. Do not hurt him.

There is an absurdity in hearing you kindly entreat this monstrosity as though it were a prize hound, born and bred to spend its days on the lap of a noblewoman at high tea. What’s more is that the wyrm appears to enjoy it, nuzzling into your touch like a kitten.

Athfiezar growls in warning as Daemon approaches, soothed only by the quiet humming you are making and the light affirmations of peace you are whispering. Shifting its weight around, it grumbles in irritated obeisance as it allows him near. When he is close enough to hear the beat of its heart, feel the waft of its breath on his skin, smell the typical scent of dragon stink upon the air, he stops and takes in the view.

From this angle, he cannot see the beast’s hind legs, so vast is the length of its anatomy. The dragon’s powerful front legs and sinuous snake-like neck occupies his vision, the head bowed low to the ground in cooperation with its mistress’s will. Its sable scales ripple like onyx in the sun, flashing shades of coal and silver and gold as the light dapples upon their surfaces. The creature is maimed in several places, no doubt from its long history of aggression against its own kind, but the old injuries serve to heighten its aura of petrifaction.

It is a horrifying representative of its kind. It is everything he had ever adored stories about as a child. And it is yours.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You glance back at him, mouth quirking gently at the expression of wonderment on his face.

You lightly entwine your fingers with his. When his eyes snap to yours, you tug him forward easily, placing his hand upon the Cannibal’s snout with your small hand laid on his own. He laughs quietly at the sensation of dragon-scale under his palm, a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief and sheer childish awe colouring his tone. For a man to lay his hand upon the Cannibal and live… It is the stuff of dreams.

“Raqnon jorrāeltas—hegnīr ūī zijot irughin. You stare wistfully at your mount. He needed love—so I gave it to him.

Though it is a relief to hear his ancestral tongue spill from your lips once more, a reminder that the years had not washed away all that is familiar, Daemon wonders if there is more to this unlikely pair than anyone had assumed. Both isolated, both starved for affection, both cleaving to each other for warmth and surety. The notion makes him unhappy.

My poor, lonely little girl… You never need be lonely again now that he had returned.

He looks back up at the beast, Athfiezar the Cannibal, this wretched saviour of desolate maidens and broken dreams. The creature snorts, a puff of smoke jettisoning out of its nostrils in a sneeze. He jumps out of the way, startled. You giggle, laying your head fondly against its snout.

“Kara iksā,” he says. You are magnificent.

You smile as you look up at your dragon, your hand lightly caressing its colossal jaw—but Daemon’s eyes remain firmly affixed on you.

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105935892

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