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#or do you just have an escapism fantasy /silly

loonylupinblack3 · 1 month

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Aftermath

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of Lando's race win

Warning: SMUT! breast play, oral (f!receiving) unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it silly)

Word Count: 1.6k

Lando was fucking horny.

You could tell from the way he stared at you across the room, eyes darkening with every sway of your hips to the music. It was his night, the party after his first ever win, yet that couldn’t stop you from teasing him slightly. His hands clenched into fists, stopping himself from stalking over to you and dragging you into the club’s bathroom where he’d finally have his way with you.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, so you continued dancing, begging your fantasy to become a reality. Lando, unfortunately, had more self control than you bargained for, or he didn’t want to fuck you in the dirty bathroom, because he spent the rest of the night away from you, as far as humanly possible, though his eyes never left you for a second.

As soon as you entered the cab his mouth was on yours, lips pressing unforgivingly against you, moving with a fevered rush only a night of built up tension could create. You had to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth, sending a nervous glance at the cab driver. Lando, noticing your hesitance, sent the driver the dirtiest glare known to man, like it was his fault he was there.

So he pulled away from you again, sitting stiffly as possible, hands once again fisted, jaw clenched and eyes fixed ahead. He stayed like that for the rest of the ride, refusing to even acknowledge you until the cab stopped. At his apartment, you noted, but didn’t say anything as Lando grabbed your arm and practically dragged you into the building and in the elevator.

The doors hadn't even finished closing before he was upon you again, hands on your hips, your neck, your ass, anywhere and everywhere he could as he kissed you. He didn’t even break the kiss as the elevators opened, just took you, stumbling to his door and scavenging his pockets for his keys, his kisses becoming sloppy and distracted.

When he managed to open the door he removed his lips from yours, taking your hand and leading you to his room. Neither of you spoke, the tension between you too palpable. Entering the room, Lando let go of your hand and looked at you.

“Get on the bed.”

You swallowed thickly in anticipation, doing as he said. You sat with your back facing the wall, staring at Lando in all his glory as he took his shirt off, showing off those abs he worked so hard for. Your mouth watered slightly, and Lando picked up on your awed state.

“See something you like?”

You couldn't help but smirk slightly, the playful demeanour Lando always seems to bring with him falling over the two of you.

Lando returned your grin, crawling onto the bed until he was hovering over you, his curls drooping forward. You lifted your hands and cupped his face, bringing him down to your own, kissing him softly.

This kiss was calmer, gentler, Lando’s fever seeming to have lessened now that he had you on his bed, at his mercy. He was still insatiable, his tongue exploring your mouth with a keenness akin to a starving man who just found a feast, but he was softer. More tender, like he was desperate for this, but he also wanted it to last.

With one hand supporting his weight his other hand started tugging your dress off, and you broke the kiss to pull it all the way off before returning to Lando’s lips. His hands trailed your body eagerly, groaning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. His lips left your mouth to pay attention to your tits instead, pressing open mouthed kisses to your breasts before taking your nipple into his mouth.

You let out a breathy moan as he sucked and nibbled on it, squirming beneath him. He laid on top of you, putting his full weight on you so you couldn’t escape and so he could use his other hand to play with your other breast, twisting your nipple between his fingers, walking the thin line between pain and pleasure with expertise.

“Lando,” you whined, clenching your thighs together.

At the sound of your whine his impatience was activated again and he left your breasts, travelling to your stomach, leaving kisses down there as he trailed all the way to your panties, eyes flicking up to you with a devious grin.

You let out a gasp as he pulled your panties down by his teeth, dragging them along your legs and only using his hands when they were at your ankles to get them fully off and discard them somewhere in the room.

He crawled back up, pressing kisses to your legs, your thighs, your inner thighs, before hovering over your core, his warm breath on your cunt sending pleasing shivers up your spine.

You squirmed and he put one of his hands on your lower stomach, keeping you there. He took his time with you, giving a long, languid stroke of his tongue over your cunt making you gasp out in surprise.

He kept his hand firmly on your stomach as he started lapping your cunt, your wetness spreading across his face, on his chin. You moaned, hands gripping the sheets as his tongue played with your pussy, flicking your clit every now and then and making your eyes roll back.

When you felt one of his fingers enter your cunt you moaned, hands moving to grip his curls instead of the sheets. He started an abusing rhythm, pumping his finger in and out fast and hard. The pleasure made your thighs clench, closing around Lando’s head. He groaned at the feeling and added a second finger, stretching you out as he sucked your pussy.

“Fuck, Lando!” You cried, writhing underneath his hand. He kept a heavy palm on you, keeping you where you were regardless of your floundering.

He ate you out with more vigour, his fingers constantly thrusting, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It was when he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside you that you fell, letting out a string of moans and curses as you did so.

You pulled Lando’s hair, pushing your cunt further onto his face and grinding against it as you rode out your high, Lando still pumping his fingers into you. It was only when your thighs stopped shaking, loosening around his head, that he took his fingers out of your pussy, making eye contact with you as he placed them in his mouth and sucked.

Your gaze clouded with lust at the sight and you bit your lip subconsciously. Lando’s gaze darkened and he moved forward till he was the one biting your lip, catching you in a bruising kiss. You could taste yourself on him and let out a breathy sigh, letting his lips abuse yours as his hands roamed your body.

He started unbuckling his belt, still kissing you albeit a little more sloppily. He only pulled away to take his pants and boxers off completely, then he was back on you, kissing your neck with fevor as he aligned his tip with your entrance.

He pushed in, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the feeling. Lando groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him, pressing his head into the crook of your neck. He went in slowly, not stopping until he was fully in, pausing for a moment to let you get used to him inside you.

You draped your arms around his neck and gave him a little squeeze, signalling you were ready. He started out slow, moving in and out of you at a languid pace, feeling the tightness of your walls.

“Fuck,” Lando cursed, panting slightly. “You’re so fucking tight for me Love.”

You let out a moan, tightening your arms around his neck, tangling your hands into his curls. Lando started going faster, unable to help himself, even knowing you were already sensitive after one orgasm. He was thrusting in and out of you, voicing his pleasure, cursing and praying your name over and over again.

Everything was so much. The pleasure was wracking through your body, you felt like you were flying, Lando slamming into you. You whined, squirming away from Lando, only for him to grab your hips and pull you back down.

“Oh Y/n, sorry baby, you’re not leaving just yet,” he murmured in your ear, pounding into you. He groaned as you whined, clenching around him, pulling on his hair.

You arched your back, eyes rolling back as he started slamming into that one spot over and over again, hitting the spongy spot with lethal precision. You were screaming his name, sobbing into the skin of his neck, hands clawing at his back as you were overwhelmed with the orgasm rolling over you.

The feeling of your walls clenching around him pushed Lando over the edge, and with a groan he came in you, pumping you full of his white cum. He continued to fuck you as he came, his thrusts turning sloppy and uneven, his pants and groans filling the room.

He stayed in that position, hovering over you, the both of you catching your breath. When he finally pulled out you frowned at the emptiness that filled you, only for the frown to melt into a content smile as Lando laid down beside you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest.

He peppered lazy kisses along the side of your neck, marking you with purple hickeys, sucking and biting at his leisure.

You fell asleep with the feeling of Lando’s lips on your skin.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris imagine #smut #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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coco-loco-nut · 1 month

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I Hate It Here

Pairing: Max x Sister Reader

Summary: Max takes a stand for his sister

TW: jos verstappen, mentioned abuse, depression, mentions of death, mentions of an affair

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

With Max gone, you were the one subject to the wrath of Jos Verstappen, especially when you stopped karting after a couple years. So while your brother was off winning grand prix after grand prix, you were continually reminded that you aren’t good enough, that you were the dud of a child.

“Maxie, tell me a story,” you call your older brother in tears one night, you don’t blame him for the fact that you are a failure. You love your older brother more than anything.

With a heavy sigh, Max dives into a made up story, like he was a poet trapped inside the body of a race car driver, except he is an awful storyteller. He does but doesn’t want to know the BS your lame excuse for a father told you.

Max is your best, and only friend, your consolation prize for surviving this far. You stopped really leaving home years ago, only leaving to go to the grocery store. Even to your job, you were just another remote employee.

Max only ever wants the best for his sister, you haven’t seen Victoria since you were so young that you don’t really even know if she actually exists, so he is all you have. Victoria doesn’t really remember you either, seeing as how you were the child of an affair. Max always tries to bring you to races as a lucky charm, but your response is always the same ‘i don’t believe in good luck, maybe next time’. It’s like you are scared to leave home, safer in the comfort of the walls you’ve only ever known.

You pull out your headphones and listen to music, tuning out the world. You hate it here, you hate your father, but you only know of one way to escape. You close your eyes and go to the little paradise in your mind. You read about something similar when you were a kid from a book Max you. It sits on your nightstand, the spine worn and frayed from years of use.

That’s similar to how Max finds you when he arrives a couple weeks later. By now he is used to finding you in that state, you spend most of your free time in your own mind.

“Y/n? Where do you go? In your mind,” Max asks, laying beside you in your bed.

“A little garden, you need a key to get in though,” you say, a little dazed.

“And how would one get a key?” He asks further, trying to keep you engaged.

“There is only one, mine,” you reply, moving to grab your headphones again. Max quickly, but gently takes them.

“Charles was asking about you. He wanted to know how you were, since he hasn’t seen you since I joined F3,” Max continues, you just look at him, an oddity in your dark room.

“Charles?” You ask and Max nods.

“My friend, you thought he had a silly accent, and thought he was cute,” Max elaborates, searching your face to see a look of recognition. You just shrug.

“We used to play games, travel back in time to different decades. You loved the 1800s,” Max says, not ready to give up.

“I was a debutante,” you whisper causing Max to smile brightly. You just shake your head, you read once that nostalgia is a minds trick. “I bet I hated it, it is always freezing in the palace,” you say, unknowingly giving Max a glimpse into the secret escapes in your mind. In your fantasies you travel everywhere even to space. Secretly you love it, but you are more than content to stay at home, even if you hate it here.

“Come to the FIA Prize Giving with me, pretend it’s one of your fantasies,” Max says, you nod your head, already away in another world where only the gentle survive.

“Max? Am I going to die?” You ask out of the blue, well out of the blue for Max. He doesn’t know how to respond before you turn back into yourself. He stands up, watching you for a minute. You stayed out of your depression a minute longer than usual, a small win for him.

“Leave your poor sister alone,” Jos says, Max just glares at him. Jos is the man who made you like this and Max will never forgive himself for it.

“Y/n is coming with me to Monaco, for good. Since you don’t care about her, I will take care of her,” Max says, prepared to stand his ground.

“Whatever, if you want to tolerate her worthlessness, that’s up to you,” Jos waves his hand, one less failure in his home.

“Don’t call her that,” Max grits his teeth. He was going to wait a couple days, but perhaps it’s necessary to expedite it here.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s your problem now,” Jos walks away. Max returns to your bedroom, getting a suitcase from your closet. Only the essentials for now, the rest can be picked up tomorrow. He packs up as much as he can in an hour before somehow convincing you to go with him to his hotel. You just stare out the window of the car as he drives, clearly uncomfortable. Max gives you the bedroom and takes the pull out couch. He immediately dials Charles.

“Max? What happened?” Charles can hear the exhaustion in Max’s voice.

“I’m bringing Y/n back to Monaco with me, she’s basically being left to rot by Jos. She’s lonely and bitter, but swears she’s fine. Y/n gets lost in her mind on purpose, there’s this fantasy land that she saves the good parts -her romanticism- in her mind. I’m losing her,” Max chokes back a sob.

“Max, what do you mean, losing her?” Charles asks, more alert.

“She doesn’t eat, she’s depressed beyond imagination, doesn’t leave the house, spends the time she isn’t working remotely in her mind. This house, our father, makes her feel worthless. If I didn’t come tonight, she might’ve died. Charles, she asked me if she was going to die,” Max has your image ingrained in his memory, a little too thin and pale.

“I just texted Maman, she will come over and visit her for a little every day, make sure she eats,” Charles says, holding back his own tears. He remembers you fondly as the little girl with pig tails, always excited to spend time with her big brother.

You struggle with the move to Monaco, one you didn’t get a say in it, likely because you spend most of the year in your mind. You have come to grow more comfortable with the woman who visits you and uses food from your brother’s fridge to feed you.

“Y/n? Feel like talking today?” she gently asks, setting the food in front of you, like she does every day. You look up, and Pascale nearly cries, seeing you start to breaks through. Your blue eyes pierce hers.

“Tell me something awful, like you are a poet trapped in the body of a finance guy,”

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc

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honeykaes · 2 years

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—𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 (𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐚 + 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐮)

✦ feat. ayato, heizou, tighnari, alhaitham, cyno, kaveh

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, masturbation, fantasies, cunnilingus (ayato), consensual somnophilia (ayato), edging (ayato), fingering (ayato), scent kink (heizou), cum-flation (tighnari), creampies, cockwarming (alhaitham), riding (alhaitham), pussyjob (cyno), blowjob (kaveh), exhibitionism (kaveh), unedited

When Thoma brings up No Nut November to Ayato as a passing gag that occurs in Mondstadt, a smirk crept up to the lord’s face with your image in mind. He loves to tease you relentlessly, so why not use this in his favor? When he tells you that he’s going to participate, you tried holding back your laughter knowing how his hands seemingly like to wander between your thighs at night.

As night struck the first night of November, your hands ball into fits, gripping tightly onto the sheets as you slowly woke up feeling your core throb in pleasure. As you lifted the sheets, Ayato's eyes flickered to yours—the corner of his lips—curved up as his tongue lapped up your sensitive clit. Your tired form shifted, feeling his lips circle your clit with slow movements, before letting his tongue rapidly flick on the nub causing your back to arch.

But just as you felt your stomach churning, and a rush of overwhelming pleasure, Ayato leaned away, instead spitting on your sobbing clit. He leaned his cheek against his palm, fingers slowly plunging inside of you as he leaned into your ear.

He’s going to lose No Nut November, that wasn’t his goal anyway. He just wants to hear you beg for this throbbing cock to bury itself deep inside of you—all while claiming you were the reason his mental fortitude for this month was depleted.

Heizou was fairly familiar with the premise of No Nut November, he just wasn’t al that interested in it, to begin with. So, when he agrees to a bet with you—only a sigh can escape his lips frustrated at himself for indulging you.

His eyes glare down, watching as his cock twitches and begs for attention as he sits on your shared bed. You were off buying groceries anyway, you’d never know if he decided to rub one off when you were away, right?

Heizou laid down, soon turning on the other side where your pillow resided. He pressed his face against the plush material, taking a deep breath of the sweet scent wafting through the shifts as his hand snaked down grabbing hold of his shaft.

His finger roughly squeezed down against a thick vein, living pleasure to shiver throughout his body. As he began tugging on his cock, stroking it as precum steadily dripped down from his flushed tip and onto the rest of his length—his thoughts drifted down to you. He buried his teeth into his bottom lip, imagining grabbing hold of the soft globes of your ass, watching his cock rapidly thrust into your cunt without a care in the world. He wished instead of connecting his parted lips onto your pillow, it was instead on your neck making various marks on it.

As his hips bucked—grunting loudly—ropes of cum shot out and onto the once clean sheets, some of it even gliding down his pale lower stomach. Heizou narrowed his eyes sighing, lifting a palm up on his sweaty head. He’d have to clean the comforter and sheets now, of course, you’d know what he did…He just should come clean at this point.

Tighnari doesn’t need to be bothered with No Nut November. He claims to not have carnal, and raging desires for sex as others do, so it would be silly to participate when you approach him about it. That statement held some truth…before he met you of course.

He wouldn’t humor you because little do you know he is in his office, hiding the various moans that threatened to escape his lips all with the thought of you. He would lose day one since you plagued him with so many fantasies he’s often too embarrassed to mention or say.

Wrapping part of his scarf over his mouth, his hand would wrapping jerk his hard cock—hips thrusting at a rapid rate already. His hand, stained in white from the previous indulgence shined in the light as his thighs became tense feeling his lower stomach tighten. God, he wishes he could see his cum leaking out of your fucked out form, tears in your eyes from how dumb he made you on his cock.

How much cum could your gorgeous cunt take, watching as your lower stomach stuck out more than usual from all of his hot cum filling you up so well? As he grunted again, climaxing in his hand again, Tighnari let out a whine ears flopping down as he finally removed the scarf from his mouth.

Yeah, there was no way Tighnari will allow himself to explain just how irresistible you are in words, his pride just wouldn’t allow it.

Alhaitham wouldn’t care about No Nut November as well, but, he makes it a point to show you to never make bets with him unless you can guarantee your victory.

And that’s why your legs are spread out him, his thick cock stretching your walls out with a dull burn, pulsating and nestled deep inside of you. You whine, trying to shift your hips, feeling your slick drip down to Alhaitham’s muscled thighs as he simply clicked his tongue. Rolling his eyes from his book, his fingers grazed down, pitching your clit as you yelped—leaning close into your ear.

He tried to tell you his willpower is unmatched, but he’ll think about thrusting if you decide to apologize by giving him a challenge. Hearing your quivering lips tell him off once more, Alhaitham would only grunt grabbing onto your hips and pulling you off of his cock, only to plunge you right back down. Your loud moans are enough to curve the corners of Alhaitham’s lips watching your ass gyrate, trying to get him to actually thrust inside of you.

He can tell how badly you want to cum on his cock, from how tightly your squeezing him. In his head, he admits it’s getting more difficult not to lay you out and use you like a sextoy—but he still needed to check you for challenging him. Smacking you down once more and hearing your heavy pants, Alhaitham’s hand grabbed onto your chest leaning in once more, giving you a new offer.

Admit you were wrong and he’ll gladly give you the treat he knows you want, his thick cum staining inside you.

Cyno is someone who doesn’t care about No Nut November and no shame or teasing from you will get him to care about it either. Why would he ever want to stop himself from cumming inside of you? He was a man, addicted, and no amount of debating would change that.

The night you even bring it up to him, you’ll find yourself under Cyno almost 10 minutes afterwards. His hands tugged onto your pants swiftly revealing your underwear to his gaze. To make a point of his desire for you, his hands would easily tear through the filmy fabric to reveal your folds sooner to him.

Shuffling his own pants down, the brown tip of his cock slowly swiped along your slit, watching your slick slowly gather and lap onto your folds. His gaze is softer watch your body trembled in pleasure grinding the tip of his cock against your needy clit, watching your essence soon drool out of you.

See, this is all the proof you need that you would miss him too if he participated in No Nut November. With one deep thrust, Cyno completely sheathed himself inside of you as your gasped—arms reaching out wide to hold him closer, whispering just how much your body is responding to his thrust.

See, you're squeezing his cock with such eagerness as if you were trying to milk him dry? Your back arched when his thrust hit that spongy part inside of you causing you to see stares, just what would you be doing if he wasn’t here to give the attention it deserves?

Even as your cum, legs pulling him to get even deeper inside of you, all he could do was slightly roll his eyes before his pace went faster to fulfill his own high. You were just as insatiable as he was.

Now all of the Sumeru men on this list, Kaveh would actually be interested in trying. He could only grin, imagining himself winning against your little bet. Months go by so fast, especially when he’s working! It would be so easy, so he thought. Yet, a week in, he felt like he was losing his mind. He wanted to pull his hair, plagued by so many things he wanted to do to you. It didn’t help, his roommate, Alhaitham, was getting on his last nerves adding to this stress. Kaveh was in desperate need of release. How could people survive a month of this??

He leaned his back against the sofa, lips quivering feeling his cock twitching to life underneath the layers of clothes he wore. As you walked in, about to suggest heading out to the city together, you were shocked when Kaveh shot up from the couch and grabbed onto you—gasping as you felt a poke coming from his crotch.

Just a week in, Kaveh begs you to release him from the deal, shouting you win repeatedly. You could only laugh seeing Kaveh’s whiney expression before his eyes narrowed, watching you slowly dip your hand down underneath his pants. Kaveh gently pushed you off, sitting on the couch and revealing his cock to you—two words escaping his lips: “Suck. Now”.

His body trembled in ecstasy, feeling your lips kiss along the base of his cock before finally taking it all inside of your mouth. Your hands grabbed onto the length you couldn’t fit into your mouth, squeezing and cracking it as you bobbed your head up and down. Kaveh, grabbing onto his lips, eyes wandering towards the kitchen he knew his roommate was rescinding in. The fear of being caught only added to his rush of pleasure, as his other hand push down your head further against his cock.

You tried adjusting, feeling Kaveh begin to buck and hit the back of your throat with every thrust as your hands grabbed onto his thighs, rubbing your thighs together to soothe the throb from your core. With a choked moan, Kaveh’s cock spasmed inside your mouth—ropes of his salty cum gracing your mouth, swallowing every drop. Kaveh flashed you a lazy smile, patting your head as he fixed his bottom half up.

Whatever punishment you’ll give him, would be nothing compared to the pain he had to deal with prior.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #heizou x reader #heizou smut #tighnari x reader #tighnari smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #cyno x reader #cyno smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut

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spider-stark · 1 year

Text

HANDS

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Peter is completely oblivious to just how horny you get while watching him work.

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

Without a doubt, Peter was the smartest person you had ever met. Yet, somehow, he managed to simultaneously be the stupidest.

Prepping for college already kept both of you beyond busy, and the fact that all of his free time was spent clad in spandex swinging around New York didn’t leave the two of you with much time to spend together. Despite this, you two worked hard to make time for each other, with most of your hang-outs consisted of sitting in his room doing totally separate tasks, happy to just be in each other's presence.

Usually this didn’t bother you. Sure, a part of you missed doing all the normal couple things—like cute little dates or surprise movie nights, but the two of you were just too busy. So you savored the time spent in his company, enjoying stolen glances at one another and silly off-hand comments as the two of you tried to focus on your own work.

But tonight was different.

You had already finished all the work you needed to get done for the week and got a head start on next week's tasks, leaving you absolutely bored out of your mind. At first you managed to distract yourself, trying not to disturb Peter’s focus as he attempted to repair his web-shooters. You flipped through his comics, toyed with his camera, and even decided to fold the laundry he had carelessly left in the basket. After practically cleaning his room top-to-bottom, you were left sprawled out on his mattress, left with nothing else to do except sit around and watch him work.

It was interesting to watch Peter tinker with things, especially when they were related to his secret identity, and so you were content to watch him. For a while, at least. As you watched him you slowly noticed your boredom turning into something…else.

Peter’s hands were one of your favorite things about him—something he teased you relentlessly for—and they were on full display right now. You watched as his slender fingers moved along the web-shooters, muttering something under his breath about how he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. If you were less distracted you might have offered to help him, just to give yourself something to do, but you were too lost in your own dirty thoughts to acknowledge his words.

He palmed at his desk, blindly reaching for a screwdriver. Your eyes drifted from his fingers to the top of his hand, watching as his blue veins protruded as he gripped the tool. A low groan escaped his lips, the sound only aiding in the fantasies beginning to swirl in your head, your jaw falling open just a bit. He was still struggling to fix whatever was wrong with them (you had long forgotten what the problem was at this point) and you barely noticed as he let the web-shooter fall roughly against his desk, leaning back in the chair and tangling his fingers in his hair.

Normally you would notice that he was getting frustrated, but you didn’t. You were absolutely gone at this point, thinking of how it felt to have his fingers tangled in your hair. The way it felt when he was feeling particularly cruel—just barely letting his fingertips trace against your skin, the sensation always leaving you desperate for more. He knew what it did to you, those featherlight touches as he moved along your hips, venturing dangerously close to your inner thigh. He liked the noises you’d make, the way you’d start to whimper as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth against your flesh.

It was cruel enough that Peter loved to tease you so much, but it was even crueler that he was capable of doing it without even trying.

Here he was doing absolutely nothing and yet you could practically feel his skin against yours; the warmth of his palms against your waist or the feel of his nails digging into the thick flesh of your thighs. If your fantasies were real then you would’ve already been begging by now, practically on the verge of tears asking him to put his fingers inside of you.

The thought was enough to make you snap yourself out of your daydream, squeezing your legs together as you realized just how desperate you actually were for him. He was still leaning back in his chair, completely and totally unaware that his totally innocent actions had left you absolutely soaked. He didn’t pay any mind when you stood up from his bed, eyes still glued to his web-shooters as he racked his brain for better ways to fix them. It wasn’t until you were standing directly in front of him that he finally glanced up at you.

“You ok?” Concern was the first thing to flash across his features, always worried about you. But as you crawled into his lap, effectively straddling him in the chair, his concern faded to confusion. “Uh-whatcha doin?”

You rolled your eyes, realizing just how clueless your precious boyfriend was. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Trying to get me to take a break?” Pete guessed, smiling when you nodded in response. “I guess I can spare a few minutes,” he teased, hands finally moving to rest on your hips, “wanna go get something to eat?”

You wondered how it was possible for someone to be so dumb, especially when said person had literal super-senses. In an effort to make your intentions even more clear, you leaned into his body and lightly rolled your hips against his, the tiny bit of friction eliciting a low noise from your lips.

That little moan seemed to be enough to at least kick his Spidey-senses into gear, his gaze darkening as he finally smelled the arousal building between your legs. You dragged your hips against his again, feeling the now growing bulge in his jeans. About time, you thought to yourself.

Peter didn’t waste any time upon realizing what you were actually after. He quickly lifted you as he stood from the chair, moving so he could lay you back down on his bed. “Fuck, why go out-” he sunk to his knees, caging his head between your legs, his fingers already toying with the waistband of your pajama shorts, “when I’ve got something to eat right here.”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh at the comment, though once he got your shorts off that laughter quickly faded into different sounds.

Oblivious as he may be, Peter Parker knows how to make a girl moan.

a/n - i had posted this on my other blog, but tumblr has decided to show my posts to absolutely no one and refuses to answer my emails asking for support so... new blog i guess? if you wanna read previous imagines for Peter that I've written check out spidey-stark, but I'll be posting on here from now on!

#peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #peter parker headcanons #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter x reader #andrew!peter fanfiction #peter parker smut #andrew!peter smut #tasm smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman imagine #spiderman smut #spiderman fanfiction #tasm fanfiction #tasm fic #spiderman fic #mcu imagine

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bucknastysbabe · 1 month

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//age gap, grooming, manipulation, no one is properly nice, Criston being crazy, Targtower!reader, canon era, anxiety and panic attacks, sibling strife, Alicent is tired, isolation, angst, sad ending, innocence/corruption kink, slight religious kink, v!fingering, oral, frottage, pnv!sex, lots of tears, I was emo okay and no I did not rush the ending no I did not-

WC: 9.5k (idk what happened oops)

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell

Being Alicent’s second daughter, the third of Viserys, your political pawn status was minimal in youth. You minded your own and listened, a constant shadow behind your mother. The queen was your idol— she was strong, devout, and loved deeply. It was your siblings who were willful, dragon blood coursing through their veins that made her fraught.

Somehow it felt you didn’t get any dragon blood. Your egg had refused to hatch, your eyes an ugly dark purple. The worst was that you had red hair. The hair of the Hightowers. You'd been born too late and too plain it seemed. The feeling of being strange led to shyness plaguing you. Hence why you’d clung to your mother’s skirts, she made you feel safe and beloved. Any closeness with your siblings dissolved as time wore on. Alicent apparently didn't mind, even if her child was manufacturing her own isolation.

Aemond devoted himself to scholarly learning, training in the yard, and flying on Vhagar. Helaena seemed to rather keep to herself, stitching beautiful works and catching her lovely insects. Aegon— he embraced hedonism and you’d leave it at that. You had been close with Daeron when he was a babe, loving on your little brother. Then Alicent sent him to Oldtown.

Ser Criston and your mother seemed to be the only presence you were around most of your childhood. You loved the white knight dearly, he’d bring you little gifts and swing you around as Alicent prattled on about something. He was so handsome and chivalrous, always a kind word upon his lips. Just the thought of the oath-sworn knight made you grow flushed and giddy.

You’d hide behind Ser Criston's white cloak when your father occasionally took interest. Viserys seemed annoyed at your shy demeanor, asking Criston to bring you to him. It was dreadful, he was decaying and his rotten smile was frightful. You would weep and shake, turning toward your mother or Criston. Looking for an escape.

The king would frown. He sniffed, “Here Cole, take the girl, Hightower as they come hm?”

Criston’s jaw clenched before he sighed, “Come on princess, we have appointments to keep.” You had grabbed his hand and left— ignoring Viserys' muttering. It brought a feeling of uselessness to your young heart. At least Daeron was bettering himself in Oldtown. The Kingsguard scoffed, “I wouldn’t appreciate sitting in his lap either. He will always have eyes for your half-sister, do remember that. Your mother has your interests in mind.”

“I understand, Ser Criston."

When Alicent was sleeping or tending to the matters of the realm, you oft sat with Ser Criston as he guarded the queen. He would tell you about his youth in the Dornish Marches, harrowing tales of battle and blood. One time as a child you grew so frightened you hopped in his arms. He laughed and petted your hair, “You’re alright, no vulture kings shall get you. Not with me here.” His smile was bright, and his brown eyes lit with humor.

You hid a picture you’d drawn of you all grown up, a beautiful maiden holding hands with Ser Criston. A dragon would be there too. Fantasies plagued your innocent mind, courtly love between a princess and her loyal white knight. Nothing like the isolation and tension that brought strife to your family. Everything was perfect and happy. Everyone loved each other. Stupid, stupid, silly you.

As you matured into the early stages of womanhood, your shyness and frayed nerves did not abate. In fact, fits of crying and shaking began to afflict you. Tourneys, balls, and weddings made your stomach turn and hands grow clammy. The Maester had given a tincture for fits and fears such as these, citing a ‘hysterical disposition.' The tincture was diluted milk of the poppy.

You were half-dazed and daft but no longer weeping through an entire feast. Small victories.

At three-and-ten you visited Dragonstone, bonding with the gorgeous Silverwing. As you flew around the island, tears streamed down your face. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. When you landed, your white knight and mother clapped, proud of their favorite princess. Even Aemond gave a word of applause. Rhaenyra watched with a strange look, further back. You refused to acknowledge her, you had heard all you needed to know about your elder sister.

Later, Aegon had japed with a sloshing goblet, “Ah, I was beginning to think you were a bastard dear sister. Maybe a lord will take an interest now.” Ser Criston had cuffed the lad on the ear at that, Aegon squeaking an apology.

The knight consoled you afterward, gloved hand tilting your chin up. His dark orbs bore into your own, his thumb swiping your tears. He stated intently, “Never, never for a second think you are not true-born. My princess, you are just beginning to blossom, you’re Targaryen as they come. I will defend that claim until my death.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tears welling up as you hugged the older man, thanking Ser Criston for his kindness. He was stiff at first, then gloved hands came to rest at your shoulders. He called you blossom after that, the pet name never failed to make your cheeks flush. Alicent took great pleasure that you had kept to their sides instead of wandering off to find whatever to abate the stress of being Royal. She would sniff occasionally, "Do remember what white signals, virtue."

Ser Criston named you the Queen of Love and Beauty at six and ten, a tourney Otto and Alicent schemed for you to get a suitor. Although the suitors were cracked in the helm and knocked on their ass. Criston was rather vicious this tourney, winning the melee and joust. You chose not to dwell on the blood splattered on his shiny armor, for it caused wicked thoughts. He grinned with red lips, offering the crown.

Aegon rolled his eyes, quipping something foul as he guzzled his wine. Viserys had apparently glared at the knight, mouth twisting. You smiled and blushed, feeling like a silly child again. The handsome marcher was consuming you more and more. Eyes that saw you wholly, his little blossom.

Later in the evening, many lords or heirs were at the feast for your sake. They did not seem interested, casting wary looks. You decided it was partly your nerves and shy nature, the glaring knight at arm's length was no benefit. You made one connection that night with a son of the Arbor, a sweet-faced Redwyne lad. His name was Meryn, that was the extent you knew. Grandsire seemed to be pleased with your choice. Criston's dark eyes lingered in your mind. Meryn had dark green eyes and straw-blonde hair. He would be alright if you had to, Meryn was courteous. You swallowed down bile at the thought of living so far away.

You’d become so struck with Cole you had begun to lie awake at night, purposely ignoring the desire that coursed through blue veins. He had said that a true, chaste maiden did not give in to carnal pleasures. Your mother said that self-pleasure was sinful and wicked. You'd read the Seven-Pointed Star, the Stranger would fondly take fornicators down to the seven hells.

You agreed, feeling sinful if your womanhood ever throbbed. Innocence remained a quality of yours, Viserys liked to call you his Septa daughter to Daemon. You’d rather be a Septa than a whore. Aegon had doomed himself already. You hated when he spoke so vulgar at the table, you had to look away in disgust.

Aegon crushed your entire world, in fact. The pair of you had ridden to the Dragonpit to ride Sunfyre and Silverwing. You rode in silence, Ser Arryk and Erryk behind on guard. The stilted awkward air between Aegon and you seemed to thicken as the Dragonpit loomed closer. Your elder brother blurted “Are you still infatuated with that preening peacock Cole?”

You stiffened and stared, aghast, mouth agape.

Aegon’s full lips smirked. He laughed “Oh, you still are. I forget you follow him and mother around the keep like a shadow. You’re six and ten, you don’t want to fuck a lordling? Or are you saving it for Ser Cole?”

“Stop it, he’s kind and a good knight. You should respect our Kingsguard, he keeps mother safe.”

Hot tears began springing at your eyes as Aegon laughed harder, that horrid shrieking giggle. One of the Cargyll’s snorted. Aegon always made you feel so silly and childish. You sniffed angrily “What are you getting at Aegon?”

“Sorry sister, sorry, it’s just- hah! It’s just your white knight’s cloak has been likely been dirtied since I was born. You do know the rumor don’t you?”

Your heart began to patter uncomfortably against your chest. Ser Erryk always carried your medicine— you did not wish to take it as you were trying to fly. Aegon leered with a grin. He spoke in a low murmur, “He hates our dear half-sister so, we know that. Rumor has it Cole sullied his oath as he took her maidenhead. She spurned him later. Then your ‘white knight’ beat Laenor’s fop lover’s face in wrath at her wedding.”

Your legs and hands began to grow numb from sheer panic. You cried, “No, you are lying! Why would you say such dreadful things?” Shakes began, as tears leaked down your red cheeks. The prince noticed your state and sighed, “No one knows if he truly did. 'Tis not strange he became mother’s sworn sword after one night hm?”

Your vision swam. No, no, no— you couldn’t believe that. Ser Erryk rode up next to you, beckoning you to open your mouth. He yanked you onto his horse, chiding Aegon, “Shut your mouth about that, you know how she gets. I have to return all the way to the keep!”

The prince shrugged, offering a weak apology, face a rude smirk.

Ser Erryk sighed, “He’s a prick. Talk to your mother about Ser Criston. Back to the keep we go, just relax.” You felt like your chest had compressed into a tiny box, shaking and panting. It couldn’t be true. You would speak to your mother immediately. The tincture began to soften your muscles, eyes lolling as you slumped onto the Cargyll twin. Erryk murmured, “Can’t wait for this shite show with the marcher.”

You were still in a hazy lull, the movement of the horse and Ser Erryk’s familiar lilt leaving you in a poppy-laden stupor. He’d ridden into the courtyard, carrying your limp frame into the castle, barking at a squire to take his horse. You mumbled, “Mother, need her.”

“I know, princess.”

Ser Criston’s voice made your poppy laden eyes flick upwards. The knight demanded, “What the hell is this? Did you dose her with the entire phial? Where’s Prince Aegon? Give her to me.”

Ser Erryk bit back, “She asked for the Queen, Ser Criston. Not you.”

You nodded softly, Ser Criston’s brows pinching together, his lips thinning in anger. He snapped, “I’ll take her to the Queen, give me the princess. Seems you can’t follow the maester’s directions, Ser Erryk.”

“No. Trust me when I say this Cole, Aegon brought this on. He was telling your ‘blossom’ all about,” the man whispered something to the marcher. Criston’s face paled, a stricken look over his features.

The door opened without further protest, Ser Erryk laying you upon the plush settee, curtly nodding. He exchanged words with the Queen. Criston remained outside the door, dark gaze peering from afar. Your mother’s wide eyes and familiar green dress hovered in your vision. She stroked your hair and sighed, “Dear girl, what did Aegon say?”

Your sluggish hand gripped her own, glazed eyes meeting brown. You whimpered “Tell me he was lying. Just tell me Aegon was lying about him.”

Alicent’s lips pursed, turning to gaze at the lingering Cole. She ordered, “Ser Criston, please shut the door.” Even through the medicinal haze, the man looked downright fearful. The door shut with a soft click. Your mother’s attention was back on you, kissing your forehead.

“About who? Take your time.”

You moaned in anguish, “Ser Criston. He broke his oath to be with her?,” you sobbed, “He lies, he can’t, mother please!”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the door once more. She bundled your frame into her arms, lifting your limp body up. Her soothing voice murmured, “Ser Criston is a good man. He loves us dearly. He is sworn and would die for us, my dear.”

You wept, “Tell me the truth.”

“He had a moment of weakness. Ser Criston was merely a few years older than I and Rhaenyra. She manipulated his good heart and bewitched him. That is all. He did not break his oath.”

You stared at your mother, unsure if she was lying while the pristine image of Criston darkened. Was it hurt? Jealousy? Childish affection gone wrong? There was nothing to do but softly weep in your mother’s arms before sleep took you. Supper was provided when you awoke, only Alicent caring for you.

She never lied to you before. Your mother cherished you too much to lie.

Right?

You faced Ser Criston again. The ache in your chest throbbed— but you would give him grace. He was devoted and good to you. His worried look made the apprehension die down. The knight grabbed your shoulders, eyes piercing as he frantically spoke, “Blossom, my princess, please. I have been distraught for days. What can I do?”

You stared at him, mind conjuring a response, feeling like a bratty child overreacting. His leather gloves squeezed again to draw your attention. It took everything in your weak heart not to babble and weep. This man was sworn to chastity and the Faith, yet you craved him like nothing else.

“Aegon just shocked me. This is a lot to process. I-I didn’t know anything about that, oh, ordeal.”

He seemed to sag, guilt wracking his handsome features. Ser Criston pulled your small form inward, chin atop your head. He murmured, “It is a stain that shall never be washed. Your mother saved me. I grew stronger from the failure. It pains me more now that you have learned the truth after so long. I should have let you know.”

You nodded against the steel plate of his chest, resigned.

You let him hold you— unsure of your intense feelings. The Red Keep was a web spun of lies. Even Ser Criston was caught in the horrid trap. You would remain to trust him, his affair with Rhaenyra was before you were even a thought. Still, your gut churned with uncertainty.

Criston murmured, "I shall never fail you again, sweet blossom."

You had distanced yourself from Ser Cole, protecting your own heart selfishly. He was upset and had been striving to gain your once devoted affection. It wasn’t hard to avoid him as war came in on Dragonback. They plotted and planned, too busy for Helaena to mourn. Aegon was raging at all times. You remained in your rooms, nervously awaiting Syrax or Caraxes to show on the horizon. Dracarys. Dracarys, the voices sang in your head.

They were always in the Council Chambers.

You’d been in your room, feeling madness creep at the edges of your mind. Shadows in the corners, fire on the horizon. A knight stood guard outside day and night, sometimes your mother would come sup with you. All she could do was tiredly ramble and apologize. You held her softly one night as she cried, how alone and useless she felt. You could empathize with that. At least in your room, you were safe from those fits. Sometimes.

Then your grandfather left. Criston was now Lord Commander and Hand of the King. A small ceremony was held in the throne room, Aegon strutting around like a peacock. You knew he was as scared as the rest of the Keep. Alicent sighed to you, “My darling, stay strong, you must.”

The man you had grown up with, the fancy of your girlhood, looked frightening with his chain of gold hands, lips curled up in pleasure. His eyes flicked toward you, entrancing. The newly appointed hand smiled with pride. You looked down and away, shaking hands clasped together. There was no reason for tears about this. Yet, the titles muddled and twisted your preferred concept of the loyal white knight.

War had truly begun with armies on the move around the realm. Criston, Aegon, and Aemond set off to Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest.

After the incident at Rook’s Rest, Criston returned colder, Aemond with the crown, and Aegon charred half to death. The now powerful marcher was paired with his protege, they could conquer and perhaps win this war. You were frightfully alone again, Alicent moved into Aegon’s chambers. Nothing new you supposed, yet your heart hurt.

About a week after the return, you were summoned to the Hand’s Tower. Criston sat at the desk, war plans drawn up. His hair was shorn, a beard grown in. The soft part of you ached at his bruised and nicked face. You awkwardly curtsied and murmured, “Lord Hand.”

“Don’t call me that, Ser Criston is fine,” he said, a hint of aggravation to his hoarse voice.

“Sorry, Ser Criston,” you apologized. He seemed like a different person sitting where your grandsire once sat. He beckoned you over, closer and closer until you were at the edge of the desk. He looked tired, sad, and beleaguered by his position. You murmured, “You requested me Ser?”

He sighed, leaning back in the supple leather chair. Criston’s eyes were achingly wet as he stated, “Do you still despise me so? All I think about is you, your safety, and how I can keep my blossom alive and well. After Rook's Rest, I began to remember my priorities."

You whimpered softly, the months of being alone and overlooked had taken their toll. You missed him dearly. Taking a few sighs, mouth quivering, you whispered. Whispered only so you may not sob. Your dress was bunched up by your distraught hands. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for being weak.

"I have been so…isolated. I don’t leave my room and all I can do is stare at the window and...and and hope I don’t!”

You clamped your jaw shut as your voice grew higher with emotions. Hot tears ran down your cheeks now— brought on by the outburst. Criston made a soft noise, pleading, “Blossom, come here. To me. You know how I hate to see your tears.”

It embarrassed you how fast you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shiny armor. The man cooed, cradling your frame and nuzzling your hair. His hands gripped into your curled legs— you didn’t care. It felt so good to be with him.

“There we are, poor princess, why are you crying blossom?”

His dark brows were pinched in concern, gaze quizzical in nature. You refrained from staring at his lips. One of his warm hands pressed into your back, rubbing up and down. You focused on that, tucking your face against the warm crook of his neck.

“Take your time princess, I’ve got you. Too sweet for this dreadful world.”

Ser Criston’s soothing words and hands, his gentle tone could almost lull you to sleep. It felt like an hour had passed, soaking in the moment. You blinked a bit, feeling syrupy sweet in his arms. He asked “Blossom, are you feeling better?” A soft little jerk of your head was the response before you pulled back to look at him.

“I feel better, thank you Ser Criston. I grow fearful,” you frowned at your words, “More fearful than usual.”

He cocked his head, seeming to mull over the words. The man sighed, “I haven’t done a good job of prioritizing your protection. These are arduous times.” Criston thumbed your cheek, sliding down to tilt your chin up. He murmured, “Tell me the truth. I feel a piece of me has returned. You cannot spurn me again, I need you my blossom, more than anything to keep going.”

His agonized eyes and the tiniest little warble at the end of his sentence melted your fears. This was Ser Criston— he’d done right by you, only second to your mother. Even then, he knew you in a way others didn’t. Something behind the mad little princess who cried at feasts. Criston saw qualities none seemed to perceive.

Making eye contact you admitted, “I missed you too. I- I had a hard time coming to terms. I was sickened with envy, picturing that…my sister, having Ser Cole’s heart,” you placed a hand over the white cloak on his shoulder, “I know it was a mistake now. I grew up thinking you were, Gods, the knight out of tales. Gallant and true. It was swept out from under me and I behaved as a child. You're only human.”

Criston’s jaw gritted, frustration crossing his features. He hissed, “If I could take my honor back from that viper I would. But I chose to be fooled, a young idiot. I know what it feels like to be truly loved now. Unconditionally.”

He licked his lips, “Knowing that I hurt you, hurt me. I prayed and prayed. I don’t know if I can be that knight for you, my dear blossom. But I can be the knight that gives his life for you, his heart and soul. You were merely hurt, I can understand why. But the Seven answered my prayers," he beamed, "You’re still here, with me. As it should be.”

Unconditional. He wasn’t wrong. You’d love Criston even if his cloak was stained black. He loved you. Only you. Prayed for you. Your heart swelled, pumping with excitement. At least that's what it seemed he said.

“Oh, Ser Criston, I, I love you.”

His face morphed into a pleasant look, eyes alight with happiness. You moved to straddle him, pressing yourself closer, your cheek pressed to Criston’s dark stubbled one. The knight rumbled, “I love you, innocent love for my little bud, now a blossoming young woman. You’re mine, to cherish and to love. Understand that. Just us.”

He squeezed your waist as you sighed, “Yes, yes Ser Cole, I am yours.”

“My perfect little Princess, the Gods are smiling upon us.”

You nodded along, smiling helplessly, more tears welling as your lips pecked his cheek. Criston turned his head to gently capture your lips, a chaste little peck. You shivered in his embrace, smiling as your noses nuzzled. He was chivalrous was he not?

Soon after you had spoken your feelings for Ser Criston, he wanted you moved into the Hand’s quarters. Said it was safer and you wouldn’t have to stare at the dreaded horizon that brought many a nightmare and fumbling for your tinctures.

It was done quickly, your garments and belongings now intertwined into the man’s quarters. He had the Lord Commander’s room too and pledged to sleep there for your comfort and honor. The knight was sweet and kind, letting you sit upon his lap as he wrote letters, amended decrees, and even kept you there when Aemond arrived to discuss battle.

Your brother looked shocked at your presence, a thin brow arching. He huffed, “Sister, I believe it would be best if you left us to the battle plans.” You nodded, the ingrained behaviors to follow orders hadn’t dissipated. Criston held you tight on his lap, remarking “She’s family. You think your sister to be a turn cloak?”

Aemond grimaced and sat down, his hair swinging as he glared. The crown of the Conqueror laid upon his brow. The crown that belonged to ailing Aegon. Criston poured some wine and handed it to the stiffened Prince Regent, opening the discussion.

You merely sat back and listened, your knight occasionally asking for your opinion. “I don’t know why you would not seek the high ground there,” you offered while pointing to the Westermen’s location. Jason Lannister would be slaughtered. You read up on historical battles now and then.

Aemond’s scoff and Criston’s noise of contemplation shut you up. You knew you were here to please your knight. Make him feel comfortable and less alone. You padded off toward the bed as they talked into the night, ignoring Aemond’s sharp questioning.

A kiss on your lips awoke you, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. The marcher seemed irritated and sleepy, now clad in a white shirt and thin breeches. He sat upon the downy bed to pet your hair, muttering, “Ignore your brother. He thinks he is the king right now, is all. But the hand pulls the strings.”

You shrugged, “He sees me as a distraction I suppose.”

Criston nodded, dark eyes rolling as he gruffed, “You are my motivation, blossom. He will learn to embrace your presence. Now, I have had a long day. I wish to hold you,” his face grew soft, “Is that okay with you dearest? Say no and I shall leave.”

Scooting over you pulled back the warm blankets, Criston crawling in with a sigh. You cuddled into his frame, the marcher flipping you around so he could press the length of his body to your own. He sighed in your ear, “Much better. Soft and sweet. Thank you for trusting me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, humming in contentment, tanned arm wrapped around your stomach.

The voices of the past screamed at you. So be it.

Criston now laid by your side every night, gentle and kind. He'd awaken you with a kiss and that saccharine smile. You fell deeper and deeper in love. His touches grew more frequent, keeping you by his side around the keep. Any snide comment was met with an equally acrid reply.

You'd been invited to sit in at council meets. Your mother seemed surprised, rushing to you, hands clamping down on your arms. She whispered, "What are you doing here? You should not listen to this, it shall give you a fit." You indicated the satchel at your hip and replied, "Ser Criston said I could come along, since I am able of mind and body I should have a say. He has stuck up for a Princess when everyone else has discarded me."

You did not mean to come off as harsh. Ser Criston's affections had bolstered you as of late. The dowager queen's eyebrows raised as her lips turned into a pursed frown. Alicent bit out, "Are you his kept woman now? I raised you better than this." Your mother drew closer to hiss, “Ser Cole loves you. Ser Cole is overstepping his boundaries as the Lord Commander. Lord Hand Criston sees you as his pretty little pet. Do take heed, princess.”

You frowned, chest tight with hurt, childishly scoffing, “Ser Criston cares for me. You’d rather sit and plot than visit your daughter? I’d like to visit Helaena with you, mayhaps Aegon. Don’t lecture me, your grace.”

Aemond called the council, breaking up the heated moment between you and the green queen. You took a seat to the side, watching and listening raptly. Alicent’s eyes flickered between you and Ser Criston, displeasure upon her pursed lips. He eyed her back, furrowing his brows. They had known each other so long the pair could speak without saying a word. Aemond and Lord Lannister prattled on. Worry began to pool in your belly, a shaky hand shifting to the pouch on your waist for comfort.

You could glean the wracked state of the Realm from the terse meeting. Daemon was at Harrenhal and men were gathering. The Hightower host led by a relative and Daeron approached from the south. Cregan Stark’s winter wolves were coming with a cold vengeance and desire to die in glory, grizzled grey beards that they were. You swallowed, mind a bit scattered pulling the pieces together. A crazed Greyjoy was on the loose and the Triarch had been called in. All-out war.

The meeting was adjourned. Aemond would leave soon for Harrenhal. Criston would join him later, much to your fear. Your white knight immediately came to your side, holding your elbow tenderly, “I must have…some words…with her grace. I’ll see you back in the tower?” You nodded, eyes panning toward Aemond getting an earful from your mother. Nerves began to prick— you kissed Ser Cole’s cheek and nodded. He smiled softly, gloved hand caressing your cheek as he murmured, “Sweet girl, relax, it will be fine.”

You may have dropped some of the diluted milk into your wine, hands shaky. You were going mad waiting, waiting, waiting. Mind-spinning rationalizations appeared to ease the rising panic. Your mother had no say anymore, it was Aemond and Criston in charge. If Aegon wasn’t bedridden he likely would not care. Ser Criston would not leave you, he loved you, yes.

The door swung open, clattering against some furniture, startling you upon the settee. Criston was pissed, anyone could see as much as the vetted knight masked his emotions. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched and his teeth audibly ground. He stopped in his tracks, running a hand through shorn hair. You warbled “Criston?”

His furrowed brow and wide eyes turned to you, sighing and stalking forward. The knight dropped to his knees, hands cradling your cheeks. Criston fumed, urgency to his tone, "You’re mine. You shall do as you please. I shall do as I please. I have the right, I'll leave my position as Kingsguard if the oaths are displeasing, you understand sweet girl? I need you to understand you’re my Princess.”

You held his gauntlets to nod, eyes wide upon his visage.

“Say it for me. Say it so I know it to be true. Now.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears. He was in quite the mood. Criston's dark eyes were wet, and desperation laced his roughed voice. Your hands curled around that cold chain of hands, lips frantically moving, “I am yours. Your princess. Nothing shall change that. I swear it on the Seven. I swear it on my heart.”

“I godsdamn love you blossom,” he growled, taking your lips roughly. Criston pressed himself into you, dominating the kiss. His hands moved down to your rear, jerking your hips flush to his own. You cried out, the dark-haired man swallowing the noise, tongue lapping against yours. His lips were insistent, and needy, leaving you breathless. You'd never felt Ser Criston so rough with you, it was intoxicating.

Shivering at his gruff words, you could not help from sliding your arms around his plated neck to moan. Criston pulled back, murmuring, “No one shall keep you from me, I’ll fucking kill them. I may do as I please now.” His lips trailed down your cheek, jaw, to your neck. All you could do was whine as he sucked and nipped little marks, big hands massaging the flesh of your ass. He nosed further down to your décolletage; greedy hands pausing at the neckline.

Lust-blown eyes met your own. You nodded, panting, “Please. Please. Take me as you wish.” His eyes scrunched shut, mouth swollen and wet as those covetous hands of his jerked your dress down, carelessly tearing the silky fabric. You yelped, never having been exposed like this, nerves sparking like wildfire. Criston’s lashes fluttered as he groaned throatily.

“Oh- fucking seven hells, precious girl,” he almost whined, nuzzling into your breasts. You seized up, unused to the carnal touches. Criston yanked off his black gloves to grab handfuls of the tender flesh, still on his knees for you. That seemed to abate the ever-looming presence of your neuroticism. He was submitting, lavishing lush kisses on your fiery skin.

You tightened your legs around his armored waist and cried out when calloused thumbs began to tenderly circle around your budded nipples. He watched your face, lips curled and eyes ever hungry. Criston murmured, “Sweetling, so responsive. Never had your pretty teats touched. Good, good, only me.”

You nodded in haphazard jerks, Criston pulling at one nipple and playing around with your other breast, big hand massaging. His kissing grew closer to the darker skin, lips closing around the bud. You mewled and squirmed, head thrown back to moan. He hummed around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak. Criston grew rougher, nipping before pulling off with a lurid pop.

The knight growled, moving onto your other breast. A shiver wracked your frame, your swollen peaks exposed to the chilly air felt like a white-hot line of arousal bolting down between your legs— throbbing and uncomfortably slick. You babbled, “Ser, Criston, Criston, wha-what?”

He chucked darkly, suckling a mark on your sternum. Criston hummed “You like that? Little princess needy for her knight?”

“Love, oh, love it, thank you,” you simpered.

He rasped, nose nuzzling into yours, “Of course…I take care of my blossom don’t I? Sweeter than sin.” His hands placed themselves atop your smaller ones, brown eyes begging. Criston breathed "Blossom- wanna feel you, help me out of this dreadful cage?" Once again mute- you began to unbuckle straps and buttons, exposing more and more skin.

"So good to me. Divine, ah, don't know how I was blessed with an angel."

You helped him out of the chest plate, leaving Criston to undo his white and gray gambeson. You were carefully putting the pieces on his armor stand, the man humming your name. Looking back, Criston smiled softly, his scarred and tanned torso exposed. He beckoned you over, cocking his head in surprise when you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing, your grace?” Criston's lips curled up in amusement, dark orbs searching your serious expression.

Holding those inky eyes, you helped his boots and thick socks off. Criston threw his padded tunic to the side, cheeks growing flushed. He softly murmured, “Answer me, a Princess should not be on her knees like this.” His hand cupped your cheek, a smirk mirroring your own. You quipped, “Is it bad to be on my knees for you? I am merely serving an important man to the realm.”

You watched his face darken, eyes catching a glint to them. He swallowed, hand on your face tightening. Criston rasped “Is that it? Just merely service? Dirtying your knees like a woman of the night. Does my blossom want to be bad? Behave wanton and licentious so? Forget your maiden's day vow, hm?"

His words made your face grow warm. It was as if he was speaking your fantasies aloud. For once to not be the strange princess— nervous, wrong shade of hair, and overtly pious. No, you wanted to let go. No more being held back by others and your own swirling fears. Ser Cole soothed those aches. You wanted the keep to whisper more about how the littlest one was openly Ser Cole’s pretty blossom, driven from her mother’s teat at last.

“I- I want to make you feel good,” you murmured with blotchy cheeks. It was not necessarily a lie, but if you began to ramble about the lustful feelings you feared you may not stop or disgust the man. That simply couldn’t happen. Not after how far you have come with him.

“You lie to me blossom,” he teased, “I know exactly what you want. What you crave. To think the old king thought you to be a Septa. C’mere then, no more games”

You watched him unlace his light breeches, exposing his dark curls and full prick. A moan slipped from your lips at the sight, lust pounding your body in waves. The knight's cock was heavy and flush, the dark tip weeping. You squeezed your thighs in excitement, licking your lips. Criston’s tan hand jerked at the taught flesh, rumbling, “Needy little blossom.” It was almost funny how he stated it like a simple fact, yet you were on the edge of combustion.

“Y-yes! Please, want it so, want to be your bad girl, the bad princess…please,” you grew shy again after blurting out, “I- in m-my mouth Ser.”

Criston’s expression changed from playful to predatory, dark eyes narrowing a bit. He rasped, “Mhm, filthy little thing. I shouldn’t encourage this behavior. Especially as your protector.” As you shuffled forward to grab the thick flesh he stopped your hand, his amusement facing heady desire. You sulked, “Wanna learn so I can please you Ser.”

Ser Cole seemed content, enough to lean back on one arm, eyes roving to your tits and wide eyes. His other hand stroked himself one more time before shoving two fingers to your lips. You opened dutifully for the intrusion, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Criston’s princess was a dream, a godsdamn dream. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on her tongue, watching her shiver and whine. He soothed, “Settle now, I’ll teach you how. But I need my sweet girl to settle down. Focus on my fingers. Nothing else.” She nodded, wet lashes upon her cheeks now. Her hands were neatly placed in her lap.

He took the still moment to reflect, idly rubbing his cock. She was well trained. Helaena was the same in her mannerisms unless she grew distracted. Before Criston even remotely began to have romantic feelings, his blossom had always held him ensnared. She was horribly timid and clutched to Alicent’s skirts, then began to seek him for comfort. The white knight earned her trust with a trinket he bought in town. A small Yitish jade dragon— to place upon her bedside table. She still had it there, pristine and well-kept.

Criston was not sure when his protective nature slid into desire. It began with jealousy, perhaps around her name-day celebration and resulting tourney. Alicent and Otto were looking for a mate. Something twisted deep within his chest. Criston did not want the sweet thing to leave the castle. Get wedded and bedded by some callous lord or idiot heir.

Her smile after he routed the competition brought great happiness to his heart. That twisted thing in his chest swelled with a possessive pride that soared past his normal feelings for Alicent's children. He hated the feast. The princess was shyly speaking to a young Redwyne lad. The Arbor was too far away for his liking. Yet nothing panned out. He couldn't beat a boy for being kind.

Criston strapped his back bloody and raw for a fortnight as penitance. He could not imagine being a snake slithering around waiting for her. He already knew she held affection for him. Thus prayer would work, and he would be a good, pious protector. Alicent made a small comment and he withdrew from being too close. Those woes seemed to be gone by the time she turned eight and ten— leading to now.

The sweet, blossomed woman was dozing around his fingers now. Criston purred, "Such a good princess, just likes to be bad. That's okay, you deserve it, so kind for helping me out." She softly whimpered and drooled as he pressed upon her tongue.

"Gorgeous, being good for me."

She whined in response, pretty lashes fluttering. Criston almost lost her affection once. That dreadful day with Aegon and Ser Arryk telling him to stand down. He could have wrung his neck. But fear overcame the anger. The knight knew she mustn't gain access to that horrid secret. Criston prayed and prayed and prayed, mutilated, and prayed that Alicent would keep the truth hidden. Something in the uncomfortable hairshirt worked, his blossom forgave him, and the Gods had granted him a boon. Certainly, she was meant to be his then?

Criston blinked out of his reverie, asking gently "Blossom, are you with me?"

She looked like she was under her poppy tinctures. He smiled a bit, the princess blissed out from Criston alone. Eventually, she nodded, trying to speak around his digits. He sighed, "I think I've changed my mind, why don't you come sit in my lap? Must be chilly down there."

The blossom whined when Criston pulled his fingers out, mumbling, "Yes Ser, yes, whatever you need." She clambered onto foal-like legs, Criston guiding her to the plush leather chair. The man easily pulled her frame atop him. He hissed lowly as her ass pressed against his aching cock. Fighting the feeling, he nuzzled into reddish waves, lips quirked up. The knight whispered "You've always been such a pious one. Did you ever touch yourself?"

She shook her head slowly, body melting into Criston's. Her hands wrapped around his bigger wrists. The princess whimpered, "No, never, I would not dare. It is sinful," she paused for a long time, "Right?" Cole chuckled, one hand of his rubbing soothing circles onto her side. He teased "We're together now, I prayed for it, the Seven smile upon us. How can it be sinful if you're touching yourself for me? The Seven-Pointed Star says you may indulge with a paired soul."

He grabbed her chin to emphasize his point, her innocent eyes making his cock hurt "I would say we are paired souls. Do you agree?"

"You know it to be true, you always have," she stated.

"Good. I'll touch you instead, so you may remember this and feel better when I am away."

He bunched her woolen dress, exposing her plush thighs and untainted maidenhead. Criston inhaled sharply, fingers digging into the wrinkled cloth. He could see her slick and aroused, flesh darkened with need. The man gritted his jaw in restraint, he would treat the sweet girl like the delicate blossom she was. Her eyes were still upon him, dark and wet, skin flushed. Ser Cole could feel the tacky way his cock was plastering itself to her ass with his prick leaking the way it was.

"Does it please you?" came her tiny warble.

Criston groaned, "Yes, yes, more than anything yes...Hold your dress up now. I...need to take care of you sweet blossom. My needs can wait." She sniffled and clung to her raised layers of dress, head shyly tucked away as she panted. The Hand gripped the giving flesh of her thigh, coaxing her to open wider with a gentle coo. The redhead shivered in response, breasts bouncing as her breath hitched.

"Have you been this wet for me before?"

"Mhmmm," she whined, hiding her embarrassed look.

"Need you to watch blossom, or you won't know how," he stated. He could feel her gaze watch as Criston's spit-slick fingers cautiously slid across her opening. She mewled in response, gasping, "Ser!" He hushed and laid tiny lush kisses, easing her heightening fears. "Slow and gentle, breathe for your knight," came his rasp.

"Ser, Cris- oh heavens, oh what is that? S-so good!"

He laughed, "A special place the mother gave you, the maiden bestowed for naughty princesses like you to rut on and make a mess. You're making quite a mess, all wet and needy." She moved back against his swollen prick, Criston's eyes fluttering. His princess babbled, "'S for you, m'not, not, naugh-ty." He assured her she wasn't, now narrating his way down to her entrance.

"Your sweet pearl is fun to play with, but most green boys don't know how to work a woman's body. I'll let you take your own pleasure too."

The tips of his fingers slid into her wet warmth, tight and silky smooth. They both gasped into the room's silence, Criston groaning in contentment. He slid further in, minding her reactions. Maiden above she was tight. She planted her feet on the leather chair, her dress falling back. Criston was taken aback as she breathed, "Want to touch you, not this silly dress."

"Seven Hells, you'll send me to an early grave..."

Her hands held onto his forearms as Criston began to delve into her cunt, easing her in with rhythmic slides. She was growing restless, cute tits bouncing with every heave of breath. He would surprise her with the sweet spot. The marcher curled his fingers upwards, dragging against the soft ridged area.

He smirked as her chest hitched once more, a small confused noise leaving petal lips. Criston playfully crooked his fingers back and forth as watched her whine and squirm raptly. The man whispered against her ear, “Feel the heel of my palm? Go on, use your hips.”

Criston’s smirk broke into a smile as she rode his hand and fingers, shyly at first. The princess’ hips twitched tentatively, her slick cunt moving against Criston with ease. He nuzzled her neck, pressing more little kisses as she sped up, fingers digging into his arms. The knight found himself mumbling between kisses, “Good…so good..thassit’.”

His blossom was rutting hard now, huffing between her broken noises. Cole could feel her tighten around him, even one of her pretty tits under his hand was budded and tight. His dark gaze noticed her thighs were quivering as she grew frantic with pleasure, crying Criston’s name. It made his heart swell. Yet the deep-seated craving wasn't met by the hand of the king.

“Mine. Say you're mine. Before you come. Now.”

Her hips stuttered and ground down hard, the princess throwing her head back onto Criston's shoulder as she cried, "I am yours, only yours, forever yours Ser Cole! Hnghhh- oh my gods! Please!" She looked up toward him, begging softly, riding his hand, her ass rubbing Criston's prick to near completion. He demanded her release, gasping as the innocent m thing squealed and gushed all over his hand, grabbing onto him for dear life.

She sobbed in pleasure, sending a gut punch to Criston's own throbbing balls. He gripped down on her with his free hands, squeezing her soft hips as he rutted with heavy grunts, blinking and gasping for breath as he emptied all over her clothed backside. Criston moaned her name, pressing his sweating forehead to her shoulder, inhaling their mixed scent. He rasped, "Lovely blossom, just lovely, I'm so proud of you my love."

She stared with swollen eyes, the prettiest smile upon her lips as she said, "I love you Criston."

He would take that memory to battle with him. Else the man feared he'd pick her up and abscond. He was too deep, had too many scores to settle, dying with a name worth living for. Yet. Yet, she was always there, waiting for him. Ser Criston shut his ever-spinning mind down for the evening.

Criston was leaving for the Riverlands in the morn. He'd kept you by his side for the last week or so. It did not matter where— the throne room, the barracks, his tower, even the council again. People stared and remained silent. Alicent had refused to speak to either of you and Aemond looked at you like a common whore. It did not matter when you had your love.

Ser Cole was insatiable in the bedroom since he brought you to a peak with his fingers. He'd taught you how to suck him, rub him, how to get off on his thighs or tight stomach. Every night you'd lain in a mess of sweat, tears, and come. Nothing was finer than taking a sensual bath afterward, soaping each other up between slow kisses. You were in love, truly, but at such an awful time. You prayed the gods would give him back to you. You feared what would come of you when he left. The thought of death was too much.

Your white knight was in a forlorn mood tonight, holding you tightly. You rubbed his thigh and consoled Criston, "I have a dragon you know. I shall be fine." He grimaced and rolled over to face you, handsome face twisted with emotions. The marcher asked, "I hope you think me to be good and kind even after this all. Don't let me die in vain."

"Don't talk like that," you chastised, frowning.

He grumbled further, sinking into his foul mindset, barbs upon his tongue. A tense argument broke out between you two. Criston ended it by shoving himself atop you and bursting into tears. He gritted, "I am, fucking hell, reconsidering everything now. I must go on. I must face my reality, we both should. But it...hurts! It fucking hurts! You have to grow up now! I've left you in your pretty gilded cage for too long!"

You blinked in shock, his tears hitting your face. Criston seemed to deflate, apologizing and weeping, "M'just scared, I can't leave you alone, I can't. You're all I need. Oh gods forgive me." This was the side of the marcher you knew few had seen. Vulnerable, real, human. Criston huffed into your neck, his hands digging into your waist.

“You’re not wrong-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Whether you did or not, ‘tis true Criston. We must face our fates whether that be now or later. I must prepare my own dragon to defend the city. You must go lead our troops. I can’t sit and weep the rest of my life.”

He gazed with wet eyes, red rimmed and dark lashes clumped. You caressed your knight’s cheek, murmuring, “I want you to have me before you leave. The gods never promise anything.”

A soft noise fell from his swollen lips, Criston readjusting himself between your lax thighs. You thought idly about giving him your tincture with the way the man was shaking. He rasped, “They don’t, not the Stranger. I want to make this…good.” Criston’s lips trembled as he pressed them tenderly to your own, balancing himself on an elbow. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, opening up.

The kiss spoke of the utter fear in the air. Long drags of tongue and sucking of lips, no urgency in the sacred moment. You arched into him, suckling gently on the tip of Criston’s hot tongue. He groaned, hips twitching against yours as he tilted his face some, lips dancing yet insistent. You grabbed some of his dark hair, crying out when he nipped your lip. The man ate up your noises, hands greedily roving your body.

“I love you,” he spoke, voice wobbly.

His lips moved down your jaw and neck, sucking at that sensitive place below your ear.

Criston’s cock had grown flush and heavy between your legs, twitching with need. Your own desire began to drip with slick and pounded with blood flow. You rocked against him with a whine, Criston’s eyes flicked to you with a sly smile as he ground back. You threw your head back in pleasure as he massaged and lapped at your tits, sucking at your tits with desperate noises.

Once again you yanked at his hair and Criston moaned, pausing to take your lips again. He murmured, urgency to his voice, “I’m going to stretch you out blossom, as best as I can, wan’ you to feel good. Feel so good.” The urge to cry bubbled up but you nodded along anyways, spreading your legs like the good princess. His good princess.

Criston hitched one of your thighs up around his waist, the other he held out. The man inhaled at your tender mound, eyes black as the coal on his sigil. You shivered involuntarily at the feeling of those sculpted lips sealing around your pearl, sucking ever so softly. One of your hands slapped down on the bed as you whimpered, thighs tightening. His calloused fingers swiped at your slick cunt, diving in two off the get.

It wasn’t painful— you’d gotten quite used to two fingers from your lover. But he pumped a couple of times before stretching his fingers outwards. That was a new feeling, a bothered whine elicited from the sensation. Criston flicked his tongue a couple of times and that was forgotten as hot licks of pleasure bundled up in your belly.

His ring finger slid in, a new feeling, a bit of a pinch. Criston rambled, “Breathe love, breathe, doing so good for me. The most obedient princess, wanton for her night. I wish you could see how much of a mess you’re already making.” He smiled at your keen of arousal and embarrassment, three fingers stretching your tight walls. He dove back down to flick, suck, lick at your pearl— relentlessly so.

Your hand not trying to rip the bed gripped his short hair, thighs clamping down now. He was abusing your other gifted place, curling his fingers as if to bring your release forward. Wet noises of his hungry mouth and ravenous fingers filled the room. He grunted, hips jerking to a standstill when you whimpered, “So close, closeclose, I love you, oh stars Criston.”

He didn’t cease his movements as you felt goosebumps arise across your hot skin, sweat beginning to bead up as pleasure rose and rose. Your lower stomach was a tight cord, ready to come undone, winding tighter and tighter. All you could do was mewl and squirm, enslaved to his ministrations. You gaped, breath going staccato, whining through your nose.

The coil snapped.

You fell apart in a flurry of shaking limbs, mouth wide open yet not a peep coming out. It was intense and fiery, the flames of carnal delights searing you. Criston moaned softly, “Ah- gorgeous blossom, made a mess all over.” He licked his swollen lips and wet chin, cock beaded and bobbing between trim thighs. You watched in a haze, feelings the subtle burn from his beard brushing your delicate skin. It felt delightful to you— the dull throb.

“Want you, please, want your,” you paused, “Want us to be truly together.”

Criston nodded, hand on his prick, precariously sliding atop your limp form. He slicked up the head of his already weeping member with your own essence, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Criston nuzzled against your face, promising to make you feel good. He seemed to grow more emotional, taking his time with sliding the blunt head around your entrance.

Carefully holding wide shoulders you tried to relax your nervous body, going limp when his cock breached your tight cunt. Criston shivered, pushing forward a bit more, gasping out. “Princess, are you okay? Hm?” Worried brown eyes flitted around as he met your eyes. You nodded in a slow jerk, it was uncomfortable but more foreign than anything. The man pushed in further, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

There it was, a pinch inside. Your chest went a little tight, nails digging into his shoulders. Criston’s mouth opened but you surged forward to kiss him, thighs and heels urging the man on. You’d never wanted anything else but this, right now. He moaned deep and long, holding himself from going too far. Inch by inch he settled, the pair of you panting into eachother’s mouth. A pregnant pause settled over your connected forms, his eyes upon yours. Brown and plum.

You didn’t have to say it again— it was felt.

Criston gingerly pulled out on a soft whine, pushing himself back into your cunt. Then again. Over and over until he built up a pace, mouth hanging open as he groaned helplessly. The friction was delicious, the pain blending away to fall into deep pleasure. Your nails clawed at his back some, keening your lovers name as he began to fuck you in earnest.

You felt so fucking full and satisfied, Criston’s gorgeous moans urging you to fuck back onto his fat prick. Useless babbles left your lips, “Full, oh, oh you feel s’good.” Criston whined wetly against your neck, feverishly kissing and sucking as he grabbed your hips to get a better angle. His beard rubbed your neck and collarbones raw— another reminder of his love. The marcher’s chest heaved as his hips and balls hit your skin, leaving nothing back as he gave in.

“Godsdammit, hah, sweet blossom, taking your knight so well. Made for me, swear- swear it.”

“All for you.”

He bit down on your neck, thrusting at a breakneck pace. The dark haired knight couldn’t quit from rambling or moaning, eyes scrunched shut as your tight pussy milked him. You squirmed under his heavier body, Criston’s chest hair rubbing against the delicate skin of your breasts, your nipples aching from the friction. Your nails drew deeper scores into his back. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Once again you were at the precipice.

Why did this feel like the last?

Criston whined as his hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside. His tactful thrusts were mismatched and sloppy, the firmness of his voice chipped away to quavering emotional whimpering. You tightened further, your cunt spasming in waves as you felt the familiar throes burn deep inside. So good it hurt. The pair of you came undone together, sounding like a pair of young lovers squealing and crying. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides, another shiver crossing your frame.

Would it be so bad if his seed took?

Criston fell down to his side, cock slipping out in a mess of spend and blood. He grabbed onto you tightly, tears slipping down your cheek. Your own tears mingled with his, you absently petting dark hair. He laughed blithely, “I shall bear your wounds proudly, hmph.” You pointed out your neck, agreeing to do the same in case you were needed.

“I’ll pray for you my love.”

“And I you.”

Many winters and summers later, barflies would say you could catch glimpses of a ragged white knight asking where his blossom was, down on some road south of the Gods Eye. The ghost would never know she perished in dragonflame, best that he didn’t, if anyone even knew what the apparition was talking about.

#ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #kingmaker era #heed the tags #targaryen!reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction

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travellingarmy · 11 months

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✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

Lilia Vanrouge

Warning(s): NSFW. Minors do not interact. Yandere themes. Implied pseudo-incest.

Just a short drabble.

⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰

"Shh.."

A soft chuckle emits somewhere in the unlit room.. Not that you'd know whether or not the room was truly lit or not when your eyes have been blindfolded. He shushes you in hopes that you'll let your guard down. However..

"Khehee. My little fae, why do you seem so scared?" Though he does not outright say it, Lilia enjoys watching how much your body trembles just by hearing his voice. He knows that he was the one to teach you to fear things, but he never anticipated that one day you'd turn his lessons against him. After taking care after you for so many years and this is the result.. He could only sigh if it weren't for the fact that he quite enjoyed being a sadist. And he has to admit, he must have gone wrong somewhere so he is partially at fault.

A wide grin that only a madman such as he could perfect smeared on his face. The sound of chains dragging on the floor sounded in your ears when you shuffle your legs close to you. You bit your lips, refusing to talk to him for as long as you could.

This only spurs him to crouch down to level your eyes and carress your cheek. His hand is slender and cold but that wasn't the reason you shuddered. What made you shiver was the thought of someone who you confide all your problems with and trusted deeply, especially when it came to protecting you, showing their monster and unwanted sinful desires towards you. "Hm~ What's this? Why is my little fae refusing my touch?" He pouts when you turn your head away from his hand.

"Are you perhaps being shy?" He chuckles and shakes his head when he falls trap to his own fantasies. "What a silly little thing."

Having enough of doing all the talking, he decides that it was about time for you to sing him praises. Chains rattle again, this time not because of you but because of him. He grabs your ankles and pulled your entire body close to him.

His cold leather gloves made you gasp which only fueled him on. "Fufufu. I knew I'd like you better this way," he comments, now towering over your form. You try not to cry as he leaves wet kisses on your inner thighs. It felt disgusting and O' how you wished your body didn't betray you at this moment, biting your bottom lip to keep all the noises he so desperately wants to hear from escaping.

He chuckles at your pathetic tries of fighting against the idea of giving up and submitting to him. If he had known years ago that you were going to become like this, maybe he should've discarded the notion of teaching you all those things that he would later have to pay a heavy price of not loving you the way he wants to and greatly resenting it. "Hn..!" Oh? Your legs trembled as he gives a kiss to your clothed sex. You could not see the sadistic smile that stretches his face that shows his fangs.

It was at this moment that he decides to skip all that long foreplay and teasing you. Another time, maybe, but not right now.

He slips off your underwear, feeling a wave of excitement surge through him. Lilia admits, he hasn't always thought of you this way so something must be wrong with him.. "You've put me under your spell, little fae.." His voice sounds deeper; serious.

"So it's time for you to understand the consequences of casting a spell on me."

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

#yandere lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge headcanons #twisted wonderland lilia #yandere lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader smut #lilia vanrouge #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x yuu #twst x reader #twst smut #lilia vanrouge imagines #lilia vanrouge smut #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twisted wonderland smut

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suzannahnatters · 1 year

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PSA: Sieges Are Awesome

so I just watched ANOTHER TV show where the characters could have simply barricaded themselves inside a VERY cosy and defensible fortress instead of heading outside to get killed/maimed/captured by the baddies

I call this Television Abhors a Siege and it is EVERYWHERE and I hate it

I HATE IT

yes, I know the writers look at each other and say, well, if our characters retreat to their stronghold then how will we fulfill our Swords Go Clang quotient for this episode?

this is only because the writers lack both imagination and education

you see, I've been reading medieval military history in exhaustive detail now for 8 years and SIEGES ARE AWESOME, both tactically and dramatically!

tactically, sieges make sense, because there is no way to thwart an enemy and buy time like HIDING SAFELY BEHIND A STONE WALL. the only time you would not do this is when a) you have a realistic chance of pulling off a surprise attack (the TV characters are never smart enough to do this) AND b) there is no realistic hope of circumstances altering to favour you in the near future (the TV characters never consider this either).

also historically speaking, whenever people looked at each other and said "this siege has no realistic hope of success" they did not march out to throw themselves on the enemy's swords: they negotiated and usually with great success (the TV characters never consider this either). but let's say you're in one of the VAST MAJORITY of situations where a siege DOES make sense and only the most unhinged mental gymnastics would justify leaving your fortifications to fight (see: the majority of TV shows and movies that deal with this scenario)? does this mean that your characters must sit inside their walls twiddling their thumbs?

pfft don't be silly

sieges are totally dramatic!

it's not about LEAVING your fortifications to fight, it's about USING your fortifications to fight.

your baddies could try everything to get in and there might be fighting over a gate, a breach, or a tunnel/mine?

your characters might sally out under cover of night to destroy the enemy or their weapons?

one of your characters might escape the fortress in a desperate journey to find help?

your characters might turn out to have a traitor or saboteur in the group?

there might be injured people who need urgent attention, or supply shortages?

a FRICKING METEOR might fall out of the sky onto the heads of your enemies, sending them running and allowing you the opportunity to regain the initiative? (and if you think this couldn't possibly have happened, something very close to this literally happened at Antioch in 1098 during the First Crusade)

anyway this is just to say that I am begging you all to reconsider the dramatic potential of the noble siege. for one thing, it makes the characters look like total imbeciles if you ignore it. and for another, sieges are AWESOME. eta: I learned all this doing the study for WATCHERS OF OUTREMER, my historical fantasy epic of the medieval crusader states! Book 4, A CONSPIRACY OF PROPHETS, puts my own magical spin on the 1098 siege of Antioch ;)

#writing #writing tip #writers of tumblr #writing fight scenes #military tactics #writing battles #medieval #medieval history #middle ages #historical fiction #history

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

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in if you need to be mean, would the reader ever try to escape? and if she did, how would konig react? thinking about like, she planned for a few months how would she escape him, and she feels very conflicted bc she loves him, but she wants freedom and thats the only thing konig would never give her. so when hes away she takes the car and just goes. i dont know where, but shes so desperate te be free again to do whatever she likes without him hovering and always by her side trying to control what she does! would he feel sad? would he be devastated? would he go after her? i know that theres like a 1% chance of it happening but im so curious about how he would react and how it would change their relationship.

anyway, love your fanfics gremlin you're a genius!!! 🫶

Konig made everything in his power to prevent her from escaping without locking her up and breaking her legs, but it doesn't mean he won't do it.

He refuses to let her study German because he moved her to this foreign country without her knowing the language, and he specifically chose a distant tiny town in the middle of the Austrian woods, where not a lot of people know English and therefore, it would be hard for her to communicate. She doesn't have his car keys or a driver's license, he didn't leave her a lot of cash, so she forced to use his cards with updates of withdrawal and spending sent to his account, and she also just has a dependant visa that wouldn't allow her to do independent anyway. Her only way would be speaking to the police and hoping that they would start the investigation. It would be really hard because, well, Austria doesn't really care about immigrant's problems unless it's an international scandal, and Konig would know anyway - because he has cameras in the house, which he doesn't even hide, and if the investigation would die down, or his girl wouldn't go to the police, he wouldn't really break the contract and run to her immediately. He has quite a few friends around, especially if Krueger or Klaus are around and not on deployment with him, so he could ask them to go and visit his...wife. She is scared and a bit hysterical because of the foreign country, so she can tell weird things about kidnapping and escaping, they shouldn't listen to her! Konig won't be so nice when he returns. He really wanted to play this fantasy of having cute little housewife, nice house and a girl that is absolutely in love with him. He knows that you like him, at least, that you didn't want to escape, you're just silly! He infantilised you before, mostly because of the age difference, but it would be even harsher now. You are not allowed to leave the house, he often simply locks you in the bedroom so you won't have anything to do besides waiting for him to return with groceries and fuck you into the mattress. He didn't want to break you leg, but if you keep resisting, he might kinda push you a bit further. He would assign you a no-nonsense older caretaker so you would have company and help while your leg is broken! She also thinks that you have some sort of weird mental illness that made you paranoid and afraid of your husband, so you can't even get help from her. You can forget about going out while he is on deployment either. And he is very reluctant to let you out, even with him, the first few months after your attempted escape. The world is too dangerous for you anyway,

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig

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rachalixie · 6 months

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eight days of christmas carols - day 6

felix - underneath the tree

a/n: felix is your long distance boyfriend who you've never met in person before. gn!reader.

waking up alone on christmas day was something you never thought you’d experience. waking up to no texts or silly voice messages from felix was even stranger, though. you don’t think a single day had passed since you met him where you didn’t wake up to something. he made up for the fact that you both lived halfway across the world with dedicated attentiveness that he never strayed from, and while it wasn’t something you thought he was obligated to do, it did send a pang of sadness through you when his name didn’t appear along with several texts from your family and friends.

your morning routine doesn’t stray too far from every other day, a pot of coffee brewing and staining the air with its nutty smell as you brush your teeth dazedly.

the thought of a beautiful boy with an even more beautiful heart that you’ve never had the privilege to touch is always on your mind, even more so on a day like today that is meant to spent with ones you love.

a knock at your door brings you out of your monotony with a fierce demand for attention. you hadn’t expected anyone today, you had resigned to spending the entire day alone. you open the door with a sigh on your lips, straightening down your christmas themed pajamas with one hand, but you froze when you saw what was on the other side of the door.

it was a man with soft blonde hair, splattered freckles adorning his cheeks and a shy smile spreading across his lips. there was a bag looped over his shoulder and a tiredness in his eyes that could only have come from hours of travel. despite never having seen him in person, you knew this man.

it was felix.

“i thought i’d surprise you,” he says, a heartbreakingly familiar deep voice escaping from his cupid’s bow shaped lips. “merry christmas?”

“you’re here, where you should be,” you press your hands against his cheeks, your eyes roaming over his face to make sure that he was real. to make sure that the features you had memorized into your head from grainy pixels were just the same in real life. “it just wasn’t the same, being alone on christmas day.”

he leans in, guiding your hands with him as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. they’re soft, just as soft as they were in your dreams where you’d play fantasies of what it would be like when you finally got to hold him in your arms. you didn’t believe in perfect first kisses, but if anyone was going to make you question what you thought you knew, it was this absolutely angelic man in front of you.

“i brought you a present -“ he cuts himself off, pulling away from you to put his bag down. you stop him before he unzips it, smiling at the way his ears have tinted red - he’s nervous.

“you’re all that i need underneath the tree,” you meet his eyes, trying to pour the boiling emotions within you into him. “everything else can wait, just let me hold you for a minute.”

he wraps you in his arms, his smell engulfing you along with them. at once, all the tension you’d felt in your body released and you all but melt into him, quicker than the snow melting in the winter sun outside.

—

carols masterlist

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #skz fluff #felix imagines #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix x y/n #stray kids x reader

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dyketubbo · 5 months

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forgive me if i lose tubbo character analysis points (rolls eyes heavily) over this or something but i honestly dont think the date was very ooc or that the frubbo romance is going to be played as something that makes qtubbo better. obviously qtubbo gained a lot of trust issues and lost a lot of hope in others + started to strongly believe that love only hurts after purgatory and the funeral. and hes an extremely defeatist guy at heart

but he also makes exceptions because no matter how much he tries to disconnect himself he still cares so so much about others. he has such a weird fucked up view of love and justifies seeing sunny as an exception by saying they wont hurt each other because their love is unconditional and yet he also claims empanada isnt safe when bagi is around because the eye workers will use that connection to their advantage And Yet he constantly looks after and takes care of sunny anyways. even though hes already mourning her before theyve even died. even though by his own logic it may be safer for sunny to not be with him

and like.. he says dont get attached empathy makes you weak but he tries to ruin fit & pacs date so they dont abandon him. he still jokes around with them and has happy moments with them bc ultimately theyre his friends and even if they dont Really understand what hes going through or what would help him they want to be there for him and make him happy and they Do make him happy. bc qtubbo doesnt spend all of his time with his friends whining and groaning about how theyre going to leave him some day and despite being suicidal and defeatist and at times a fucking jerk that isnt his whole personality

depressed people Have happy days. they have ups and peaks in their life and yeah actually many of them do manage to have nice relationships and theres a lot of depressed people out there who are fully capable of just. not being complete downers to be around all the time (cough a lot of comedians have depression cough). if anything i would argue it isnt just in character but realistic for qtubbo to be able to just. have a normal date where hes a bit of a loser and manages to get through an actual confession

and its not like hes going all in oh we're dating and we're going to get married now bc he doesnt even consider themselves boyfriends and he turns down sunny claiming fred as another parent. he just had a happy day and it boosted his mood a little. i dont think fred is really on his list of trusted people and in fact i feel like him just being very silly and awkward during the date is a Part of him not fully trusting fred or wanting to be super serious around/with her. i think to qtubbo fred symbolizes sure some pain from the whole funeral situation but also still a lot of happier simpler times and ultimately a time where tubbo was happier and openly hopeful

if anything, tubbos relationship with fred is another form of escapism for him. of course it isnt going to make him better. he literally brought fred to him and sunnys island where they plan to live far away from everyone to avoid their problems. its all a fantasy for him, and one that he isnt even allowing himself to fully jump into but will joke about and dance around the subject of nonetheless

#'the gay sex will make him better' 'the gay sex will make him worse' the gay sex is just another way for him to avoid his problems #ultimately the hope is still there in qtubbo. hes buried it down deep but its in there #let him have some joyous whimsy. the boy is barely serious about his own issues of course hes going to spend the date-#-making stupid minecraft pick up lines and being extremely awkward. what did you expect from him be fr #mask mews #should i count this as an analysis proper. i guesss #amaryllis analyzes #tubbo #fred qsmp #frubbo #qsmp #anyways qtubbo is bpd realness #having an fp doesnt solve all of your problems being in a relationship doesnt solve all of your problems #if anything the tunnel vision from having one is likely to make you ignore all your issues #bc you feel happy so you stop caring about working on yourself #if you even cared in the first place

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jellyluvr · 1 year

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Fantasies within tapes 2

- Peter maximoff x fem reader ⋆ ˚

So sorry for the wait!! I know some people probably want the part two so here it is.

Also, do you guys want long fics or short fics? Medium? Lmk ♡

Warnings: heavy smut?, peter being silly, oral sex, and fem reader!

Summary: the video was stuck on your mind and you couldn't help but want to watch it again..

It had been a few days since the porn incident. I mean, it wasn't like you had only been thinking of it... but you have. It had been all you could think of. Why did Peter even watch porn? Why did he have such a weird porno...?

So yes, you did go back down into his basement for a look-see. Peter wouldn't know.. he was upstairs, probably eating cheetos and coke.

You took each step down the stairs carefully. You were afraid you'd get caught.. that same anxious feeling filling your stomach. It felt like you could throw it up. But, you continued down the stairs until you saw the obnoxious colors of his room.

Muttering something to yourself, you sat back down on the carpeted floor just where you had been last time. "Oh fuck.." you mumbled. This isn't the best idea. Maybe you should just look for a magazine..? This was all so frustrating and scary. You wanted to see the tape again. It was practically the only source of dirty things you had. Plus, you didn't like the magazines. Grainy sex tapes were an upgrade.. but definitely not the best.

Scooting up on the carpet, your bare thighs rubbing against it, you grabbed the box full of the tapes.

And sure enough the neon yellow tape was in the corner. Just how you had left it. You put your hand in the box and grabbed it, pausing while you stared for a moment.

Maybe you shouldn't do this. Maybe this is a horrible idea, and Peter's gonna figure out you were looking at his porn.

But, you pushed the thoughts away and huffed as you put the tape in the cassette deck. Cussing to yourself you pressed play.

You felt your mind roam of the possibilities. What if he catches you? What if he gets really mad? What if..?

But, the screen flashed to same scene as last time. The woman gripped the sheets in fists, her body moving with the man's. He pounded into her, her moans quite loud.

You couldn't help but feel heat rise to your face while you watched. You liked it. You liked watching this girl get her guts rearranged. You were a virgin, a very horny one. A very bold one, too. Your thighs pushed together, the heat overwhelming your cunt.

You let out a soft moan while you watched this poor girl get ravaged in the white silk bed. You almost felt desensitized...

"I didn't know you liked porn too?" A familiar voice said, not far behind you. Your head darted into the direction, and sure enough, it was peter. He had a huge grin while he continued to eat his bag of cheetos, his fingertips getting coated in the orange goodness.

You didn't know what to do. He had caught you.. and you were just sitting there, flustered as ever.

"Don't ah.. worry 'bout it." He said while his eyes went down to his bag while he looked for a cheeto. He seemed so nonchalant. So calm..

"I'm uhm.." Your mouth was a little open while the girl kept moaning in the background. You just stared for a while. You didn't know what to say. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

"Yknow, that's pretty bad. You shouldn't be doing things without permission. And you had to have snooped to find that. Reallllll bad..." he chuckled, huffs of air escaping his mouth while he looked at you. You were bright red. You didn't know what to even think. Was he mad? What was he gonna do? Should you say something..?

But, those thoughts slipped away while your cunt reminded you of the unbearable heat is was trapped in. You were drenched in your arousal. You could feel it, and you knew exactly what it was. The wonderful, powerful ache above your wet folds.

"Mmm.." You sighed, trying to cope with the neediness of your pussy. You didn't even realize that peter was still there. Before you even knew it, the cheeto bag was gone, and he was a bit closer behind you.

"What was that?" His head turned slightly while he licked his fingers, cleaning them of the orange gunk. He still had that slight smirk. That know-it-all type one.

"Nothin'." You responded quickly. Maybe he was angry? You couldn't tell. You were too enveloped in your aches that you didn't even register the bulge in his pants. The very obvious bulge.

Then, the moans and slosh sounds in the background stopped. Peter had disappeared for a second, but in the blink of an eye, he was back in the same spot. The room was filled with silence and very thick sexual tension.

"What were you doin'? Yknow, the porn n all.." He chuckled a bit but he was completely serious.

"Uhm..." You began to talk, but you didn't know what you say, really. You were too afraid peter would be angry. But now, as your eyes shifted down, peters bulge was very obvious in his stupid, kind of cute leather pants.

Peter noticed how your eyes shifted, and his smirk grew a little before in the blink of an eye. You were on the bed. And before you could even do anything, peters hand slipped down your shorts, into your panties, and right above your slick heat.

You whimpered at the sudden touch, but you didn't try to move away. Peter looked up at you, realizing how wet you were from seeing that video.

"Oh- wow.. you really liked that.." he snickered, a few huffs of air coming from his nose.

You were just on the bed, your legs open and peters hand in between them. You didn't even know how to process what was happening.. your best friend was touching you? You just couldn't register it, and again, peter quickly threw your shorts off, leaving you in your drenched panties.

"Ooo momma.." he looked down at your panties and the undeniable heat coming from them. Why did he have to make this so embarrassing.. so awkward...

"Uhm.. Peter could you -" his head was in between your thighs instantly. Your panties were somewhere in the room and you gasped at the sudden pressure there.

Peter made a soft hum noise while his tongue slipped through your wet folds and lapped at your clit. He looked up at you, his eyes full of lust.

"Mm~!" You squeaked, squirming a bit. He was going too quick. Your body didn't know what to do, so you grabbed onto his silver straight hair and held onto it for whatever closure that didn't exist.

You moaned more as peter continued to move his tongue in such ways, but he lowered his head, his big nose pushing against your clit and his tongue licking at your wet entrance.

He slurped and sucked on your cunt while you whined. "Ooh- fuck!" Your body shook with the pleasure that followed, your eyes rolling back into your head. Peter moved his tongue up and down on your entrance while he shook his head, his nose overstimulating you.

"Peter!" You squeaked, your breathing picking up. You squeezed your fists into his hair while he moved, and finally, you came. All over his mouth and tongue. Your hips buckled and pushed into his face a last time before he removed his head from your thighs.

"You look so pretty like that.." he purred, his hand moving up to wipe his mouth.

You shook with the coldness hitting your hot, sticky mess between your thighs. And your legs went open, your head resting against the mattress while you looked up at the orange arch over peters bed. Your breath quivered while you shut your eyes.

"Don't snoop next time, princess." Peter got up from the bed before kissing your inner thigh and leaving swiftly.

Peter definitely wasn't mad.

───────────────────────────────

Sorry for the shortness again!! :(

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bit-dodgy-innit · 1 year

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Something In You Lit Up Heaven In Me

READ PART ONE

Pairing: Apollo (who happens to look exactly like Orestes in Agora) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.5k

TW/CW: Oral (m and f receiving), gods don't have refractory periods because I said so, petnames, a bit of innonence!kink and some praise!kink for that matter, P in V, a smidge of overstimulation, creampie, humiliation (but it's not our reader).

A/N: OH MY GAAAAASH THANK YOU ALL FOR THE OUTPOURING OF SUPPORT ON THIS SILLY LIL FANTASY OF MINE! I know have a couple more ideas/installments for this little AU! And hope you all enjoy!!!

Quick vocab word that'll be helpful: Archiereus = high/head priest

The rest of the day following your covert meeting with Apollo passed in a blur. Your mother claimed that you no longer needed to bother with your daily chores, but you insisted on doing them anyway. It wasn’t fair to Caris and besides, the routine was anchoring. It was one small shred of normalcy that you’d been able to maintain since Apollo upended your world. Even so, your mind was elsewhere as you washed the linens and swept the house, drifting through the evening mechanically.

Falling asleep was impossible. Your gaze was glued to the moon as it rose steadily in the sky, Selene’s radiance never wavering as she drove her chariot across its inky canvas.

At first, you dismissed them as a mere cluster of fireflies…until they made an uncannily neat and tidy line leading away from your window. You giggled, quietly so as not to wake Caris, and tiptoed out of your modest home. The insects led you through your village, past the temple, into the forest once more.

Apollo waited for you in another small, tucked away clearing. Despite it being the dead of night, the god’s gleeful grin illuminated the little corner of the forest. As enchanting as the fireflies were, they were no longer necessary when the god of light was present. Your feet carried you on your own accord and launched you into Apollo’s arms.

Now that it was only you and your lover, hidden away from prying eyes and scheming minds, you completely surrendered your desire. Apollo made you feel liberated, wild, when you made love.

“Want you to take me in your mouth,” he exhaled as you rolled around on the lush, soft grass, tangled within each other. Even though it wasn’t your first time seeing his member, you were unable to stifle your gasp when he shed his chiton.

“Yes,” you replied at once. Then, “but I’ve never–”

“Shhh–I’ll teach you,” he assured you, sprawling back on the ground.

You crawled closer to him. He disarmed you with his trademark grin, and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes instantly put you at ease. Apollo may have been an Olympian, but he was still a man. He took pleasure in the same way you mere mortals did.

Your gaze met his expectantly, eager for his instruction.

“We’ll start simply. How about you give the tip a kiss?”

You did as he said. His reaction was immediate, a pleased groan escaped his lips.

“Just like that, sunshine,” he spurred you on, “now see if you can take more in your mouth.”

A memory surfaced in your mind – Caris, sharing what she did to please a man in this matter. You recalled her advice to wrap your lips around his teeth as you sank down, and to use your hand to stroke any part of him you couldn’t fit into your mouth. It turned out, you were initially too keen, sputtering and having to pull off of Apollo after your gag reflex was triggered.

He cupped your face with one strong, sure hand, his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “Oh darling, there’s no need to rush.”

Like before, there wasn’t a trace of disappointment or derision on the god’s face. He traced his finger down your jaw, slipping in between your lips. You sucked on the digit instinctively, looking up at him with what you hoped were doe eyes, and Apollo moaned. “Mmm, I knew you'd turn out to be a little minx.”

You pulled off of the god’s finger to try again. It occurred to you that it would be difficult, if not unpleasant, to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth dry, so instead of trying to swallow down Apollo’s flushed cock immediately, you licked the circumference of his girth to wet him. The deity seemed to very much enjoy that, the action eliciting another deep groan.

“Oh Tiii-Titans, you’re like a little naughty kitten for me,” he cooed. “Don’t stop.”

Once he was properly slicked, you eased back down again. This time you opened your jaw wider, and though you only could take about half of him in, you wasted no time covering the remainder with your hand. It took a moment to teach them to work in tandem, yet you strove to sync the two movements. Your jaw began to ache slightly, the god’s mortal form was certainly not lacking, but you powered through. You wanted to be good for him, being good made you feel good, because you knew afterwards, Apollo would make you feel incredible.

Your lover never ceased his encouragement, his hand resting atop your head to guide you ever so slightly. A light tug on your hair made you pause, allowing him to ask, “Kitten, might I lead the way from here?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Apollo’s inquisitive, umber eyes narrowed at you, “Don’t refer to me so.” One look at your petrified face and he instantly amended, “There’s no need. I want you to use my name.”

Your face split into a wide, pleased grin. “Alright, my–Apollo.”

“My Apollo, I like that,” he grinned, then stood. “C’mere kitten.”

You rose onto your knees to level yourself with Apollo’s unflagging erection. He fed his cock back between your lips and instructed “You needn’t do a thing. Just pretend as if you’re yawning, it’ll help you take more.”

You wanted to nod in assent, but thought better of it given your full mouth. His fingers threaded into your hair, gently but firmly, holding you in place before he began to move his hips. Implementing his suggestion, you were shocked to discover how much more of his thick shaft penetrated your mouth. Apollo gave a few introductory thrusts, then began pistoning into you steadily.

Your first instinct was to shut your eyes, but you coaxed them back open to observe your lover’s face. His jaw was tipped up, his brows knit together, his lips parted. To see a god this vulnerable was a privilege even the highest priests and most devoted acolytes would never receive in their lifetimes, a privilege whose magnitude that was not lost on you.

On your knees for Apollo, you felt…safe. And not merely because that was the “natural” thing to do - to kneel for one’s god. Strangely, it wasn’t about that. The deity made you feel cared for, that you could set your burdens, however petty and innocuous they may be, down. He would shoulder them for a while, so that you could discover parts of yourself that you didn’t know existed.

Apollo pulled you closer to him, your nose now pressed against the taut skin of his belly as he used your mouth. It made breathing a bit harder, but the god’s rhythm began to falter soon after.

“Ohhhh sunshine I’m gonna—try to swallow it down if you can.”

You hummed your assent around Apollo’s cock, inadvertently sending him over the edge. He shoved his shaft nearly down your throat as his release dropped down it, all but singing your praise the entire time.

“Good girl kitten,” he painted the back of your esophagus with his seed, “taking it so well for me. You were so good for me.”

At last he extracted his spent member from your overstretched mouth. The entirety of your chin was covered in drool from your coupling, and you barely had a moment to wipe it away before Apollo’s lips were on yours. He plundered your mouth with his tongue as if he was to lick the combined taste of his cum and your spit from it. The thought sent a hot thrill down your spine.

“You did so well for me, darling.” He murmured once more after you’d broken apart. Apollo made quick work of your chiton, “Now what does my very good girl want?”

“I…” your lover had begun to trail his lips down the soft skin of your neck. It made it impossible to think, let alone speak. “I want you…inside.”

“Of course,” he agreed from where he was now dotting kisses across your collarbone.

Apollo continued his descent down your bare skin, kissing the tops of your breasts before pulling each nipple into his hot, sure mouth for a hearty suck. It felt so good that you changed your mind on how you wanted Apollo to ravish you, yet the sight of him sinking between your legs was too enticing to resist. He used the tip of his nose to part the seam of your sex before changing course and licking a long stripe between your folds.

“Mmmm, just as sweet as I recall,” he husked. Your reply came in a strangled mewl.

He chuckled darkly. "I know darling, but I must ready you.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Apollo slide his index finger through your wetness and into your heat. Relief flooded you – no longer were you clenching around nothing. Apollo resumed kissing your neck as he tucked a second digit in along with the first. You met his movements eagerly, vaguely aware of how swiftly you’d shed the trope of the blushing virgin. Before, the god’s ministrations had felt like too much, now they were not enough. You needed the god’s hardness inside of you now.

Despite being reduced to pitiful whines and whimpers, Apollo understood you.

“You want your god’s big cock, don’t you?”

You practically sobbed in agreement. But although the deity was a generous lover, he had a wicked streak. One that Apollo decided to unleash when he demanded right as he finally applied pressure to your bed, “Words, kitten.”

“Yuh-YES!” you cried. It felt heavenly, but it wasn’t enough to bring you to climax. You legitimately feared you may go mad from the anticipation.

“Good girl,” He parted your legs wider and locked them around his ample hips. He paused briefly to marvel, “what an offering you make for me.”

Apollo proceeded to slap the head of his arousal on your clit, then at last he entered you in one smooth of his hips. The feeling of becoming one wrung another cry from you, while a deep, satisfied rumble sounded from Apollo’s chest.

There wasn’t much talking after that. It was unnecessary. The god’s gaze locked onto your as he plowed you, first holding firmling onto your sides to steady you, then they crawled back up to breasts to pluck at your nipples. You were definitely going to go mad between the acute, concentrated ecstasy he was drawing from your pebbled peaks along with the astounding stretch and burn of his cock plowing into your channel. All the while, the swirling brown of Apollo’s eyes bore into yours, gauging your pleasure - how he could heighten it, how he could surprise you, how you would bit down on bottom lip whenever he changed angle slightly.

The last observation spurred an idea from the god. He bent over you further, catching your wrists in his hands and pinning you to the ground beneath you. The shift allowed him to hammer a special, previously unknown spot within you, and for your vision to go a burning, blinding white.

“AH! Ohhhh…Apo-Apollo,” you keened.

“That’s it, c’mon sunshine,” he urged you, now slamming his pelvis into yours, “Say my name. Scream it so that my kin can hear it on Olympius, and I’ll let you come.”

“Apollo!” You were not one to disobey your god, “Oh stars above, Apollo! Holy Her–APOLLO!! ”

Your orgasm exploded seemingly from the spot your lover’s cock was not battering outwards. You convulsed as the pleasure rushed from your core throughout your spasming frame to the very tips of fingers and toes. There was no way to ride it, let alone fight it, the ecstasy Apollo elicited from you demanded nothing less than complete surrender.

At last, the euphoria in your body began to subside. You desperately gasped down more oxygen, yet, Apollo’s hard, thick member was still thrusting into you relentlessly. Next thing you knew, the deity had collected you into his arms and lifted you to sit on his lap.

You winced at the deeper penetration and your growing sensitivity, but he whispered into your ear, “I know kitten, but I need a little more and Titans, you feel so damn amazing.”

You pressed a kiss into his temple, now damp with sweat, and like before, surrendered your body to your god. He moved your hips for you, essentially fucking yourself on his cock, meeting each and every downstroke with an untiring vigor only an Olympian could possess.

Suddenly, his hold around your torso tightened, and you felt his manhood pulse within you. A deep growl reverberated from his as his seed flooded your channel. Your head was spinning, so much so that you barely realized you two fell back on the grass again.

Apollo rolled so you were beneath him once more and eased himself out of you.

“Now, that is a sight,” he moaned as he watched his release drip out of your entrance.

“Is it?” you panted.

“Mmm indeed,” he promised, gingerly probing your puffy pussy to collect his spend. This time, he brought it to his own mouth, “Hellfire, we make quite the concoction.”

“I…” you eyes were fluttering closed, “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

The god pulled you close once more. “I am beyond delighted. You were magnificent, my little kitten.”

***

You didn’t remember returning home, but your mother’s voice barking your name to wake was unmistakable. It wasn’t until she jarred you into consciousness that you realized you were back in your own bed, and thankfully, clothed.

“You were due at the temple a quarter of an hour ago!”

Grogginess prevented you from sniping back at her that your tardiness wouldn’t anger the god, since Apollo was the very reason for it. Instead, you held your tongue, and lethargically, but as quickly as you could, you rinsed your face and dressed. Your mother shooed you off to the temple with a small cloth holding berries and cheese in tow.

You trudged up the hill to the temple, you’d never liked going there to begin with, but now that your presence was compulsory, it maddened you. The more time you spent with Apollo, the more you despised the structure meant to venerate him and the men who inhabited it claiming to act in his name. The god himself and his priests seemed to be two disparate parties.

Distressed shouts and —was that bleating?— jolted you from your thoughts. You ran the rest of the way to the temple’s entrance. Something was wrong.

Breathlessly, you arrived at the temple’s sanctum to find the priests and acolytes in a frantic scrum and…a goat.

You caught the eye of one of the younger priests. “Don’t we usually sacrifice ravens to Apollo?”

The priest, Karolos, you believed his name was, gulped. “Th-that…that is the Archiereus.”

Now it was your turn to gulp. Your eyes widened, then darted up to the large statue of Apollo that looked over the chaos.

“I need privacy,” you told Karolos lowly, “somewhere I can be alone.”

His brows furrowed, only for realization to dawn on his features a moment later. “Are you going to…?”

“I’m going to try.”

“Come with me.”

As he led you through the madness, you pressed further. “What exactly happened?”

“We all woke up from a terrible, seemingly shared, nightmare. The god appeared to us and we could see ourselves being roasted alive as the temple burned,” the priest began, “and the goat—I mean, the Archiereus, was in his chambers…eating his own bed linens when we rose this morn.”

“Gods,” you groaned.

“We’re very sorry.”

Your gaze shot to the ground at the mention of your violating confirmation as Apollo’s latest lover.

“Truly,” he averred, “I knew it was wrong but they didn’t listen—“

“Stop,” you had no interest in reliving that terrifying day. “But thank you. Truly.”

Karolos sent you a small grin and then opened the door to what seemed to be the head priest’s chambers, half-eaten bed linens and all. The room was imposing, large, and most importantly, tucked into a corner toward the back of the temple complex.

The bedchamber seemed even more intimidating when you were left alone within it. You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to summon Apollo, or if you even could. Therefore, you defaulted to the simplest of methods. You looked up, yet closed your eyes, and called out this name.

“Sunshine.”

His voice was close. Very close, since not a second later you were pulled back into the deity’s arms. You startled, a very undignified and unappealing yelp escaping you.

You pivoted in Apollo’s embrace to face him. “You enjoy frightening me, don’t you?”

“I enjoy arousing you in any and all forms,” he countered wryly.

“You must change him back.”

Apollo’s face fell infinitesimally before resuming its usual brightness. “Of course. As soon as you admit how comical it is.”

You huffed. “Apollo.”

He shrugged as if the power wasn’t solely and completely in his hands.

“What’s this about a shared nightmare?”

“I promised you not to harm them,” the god responded, frustration creeping into his tone, “but these provincial dolts needed to be taught a lesson. They cannot flout me, and by extension you, in such a brazen manner.”

Arguing was pointless, you knew this. Because Apollo was right. As much as you felt as the reluctant center of the issue here, it actually came down to the priests and their respect, and therefore fear, for their patron god.

“While the goat is very comical, I have to say, I think a slug would’ve been more fitting,” you offered with a small smile.

Apollo laughed, his expression beaming once again, and captured your lips.

When you breathlessly broke apart, you inquired, “Does this mean I no longer need to come here everyday?”

“Darling, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”

“I suppose so, but if you wanted me to, I would.”

“Always so willing to please,” Apollo groaned in satisfaction, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

Before you could counter that you didn’t he nudged his groin into your hip to give you one. You nearly jumped at the feel of his arousal pressing through two flimsy layers of your clothing.

The god continued, “However, I believe there are better uses for your time too.”

“Thank you, my–my Apollo.”

“Oh you truly want me to take you on that bumpkin Archiereus’s bed, don’t you?”

The god began backing you toward the bed in question, though you managed to slip out of his grasp just in time.

“Apollo!”

Another peal of laughter from the god. “My desire for you has no bounds.”

“As does mine,” you offered, “I swear it. However, I have to go back and live amongst these people, and I’d prefer to be able to look some of my neighbors in the eye.”

The god studied you, as if the fact you went back and lived among other people had only just occurred to him when you spoke it. However, maddeningly all he said was, “I see.”

You fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. “I very much enjoyed our time together last night though. I cannot remember if I told you.”

He grinned. You would never tire of it. “Good, then I shall see you tonight?”

“Yes. Please.” your answer came without hesitation.

“I’ll send you a route again,” he vowed, stealing one last impassioned kiss from your lips.

“I shall count the moments,” you whispered.

“Go,” he urged you softly. “I’ve taken care of the Archiereus.”

A commotion sounded from what you thought was the temple’s sanctum. It startled you, and when you turned back to your lover, he’d disappeared.

Karolos was not waiting at the door when you emerged from the high priest’s chambers, much to your relief. So you hurried to where the shouts were emanating from.

The Archiereus had been changed back alright. He lay in the sanctum stark naked and humiliated, barking for a cloth to cover his modesty when you arrived on the scene. Yet he cowed immediately at the sight of you and in a truly baffling role reversal, kneeled at your feet.

“Please, we never meant to harm you, nor anger the mighty Apollo,” he all but blubbered. It was arresting, and honestly, you thought you might have preferred his haughty countenance more. “Your claim was a bold one, we simply sought to substantiate it, however if I could take it back, I would. I beseech you for forgiveness.”

You didn’t wish to forgive him, however you didn’t wish to condemn the groveling cleric either. The happy medium it seemed was to respond, “The god is appeased. I will no longer be present for your daily rituals.”

With that, you turned and left the oppressive structure, unsure whether to stifle or welcome the exhilarating sense of authority following through you. It was truly the first time in your life you’d ever felt powerful.

A/N: Ehhh...we like? Seriously, y'all give me the motivation pound out more of this! I already have an idea of another god I want to bring into the mix 😜

Taglist:

@whatthefishh , @thhriller , @simpforbritgents , @oof-its-roobi @pakhiya @fandxmslxt69 @twwcs, @damnzelsoul @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dameronscopilot @sharin4readers @ireallymadeamoonknightblog

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x y/n #apollo #oscar isaac greek god au #oscar isaac thirst hours

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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look, I know polls are silly and fun and so I want you to understand writing this rant is silly and fun for me but EMON? Emon is the Critical Role Entry for Most Place of All Time? I must call bullshit. And so:

Friends, fellow critters, and people who have me blocked but hate read my blog each morning over breakfast: Emon is not even the Most Place on the Material Plane. It is not even the Most Place in Tal'Dorei. Hell, it's not even the Most Place on the fucking Bladeshimmer Shoreline, which includes a destroyed city now overtaken by bandits, and a cave system that hosts both a rift to the Far Realm and a different rock than residuum that can make a different magical drug than suude. Emon is if you took the aggressively mid vibes of Washington, DC and transplanted them to the inconvenient location and city of refuge for flaky people who avoid gluten for non-medical reasons of Los Angeles. The second Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III invents the motorcar that sumbitch is going to have traffic bad enough to summon Tharizdun. Also there's a literal pit of fire that's been burning for 30 years that both hasn't been adequately addressed but also doesn't really seem that interesting. Like oh a bunch of dragons destroyed your city? Big deal. Draconia got so fucked up it doesn't exist anymore, and at least Westruun has some fucking charm. At least Pike and Grog actually lived there, whereas Vox Machina got a house in Emon and proceeded to spend their time literally anywhere else.

Here is a brief list of places on the planet of Exandria in the Material Plane - not even across Critical Role's main campaigns/EXU, which includes such non-Exandrian places as "living city of people who mind-melded and escaped to the Astral Sea during a century-plus-long war of the gods"; "Ligament Manor"; "Ryn's groovy pied-a-feu, man I wonder what made the scorch marks on that furniture, anyway", and "THE MOON THAT IS ACTUALLY AN PRISON FOR A THING THAT EATS GODS AND IS POSSIBLY HATCHING" - that are more of a place than Emon:

Jrusar: 5 spires no waiting, sweet cable car system, city almost entirely destabilized by goo creatures as part of an overly complicated plot to blow up the aforementioned moon

Bassuras: (literally "garbagetown") Run by Mad Max gangs and everyone is cool with it; regular sandstorms; one of those gangs apparently sits atop a hive mind and NO ONE has examined this (except for them)?)

Whitestone: has a tree planted by one god over a buried temple to another god that was corrupted in the name of a third, shittier god; overrun by zombies but it's fine now; streetlights and two bears that are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want.

Yios: The canal system of Venice meets the colleges per capita of Boston meets the orcs from your fantasies, also there's some kind of kitchen-based organized crime ring so intricate it could be its own campaign (so, also like Boston).

Vasselheim: literally no one understands what the fuck its government system is. Old as balls. Temples everywhere! Temples full of trees. Temples full of blood! Temples full of an old guy who will kick your ass. A sphinx that regulates the monster hunter mini-game. Presumably the giant titan full of the ancient cannibal dwarf city is like, still there, as a new fixture, since I don't see how they're moving that.

The arctic: where teleportation doesn't work, there's a river of lava in the middle of the snow, ancient ruins full of snow globes full of actual people, and the Chaos Bisexual Emerald - and that's just a smattering of what Eiselcross has to offer.

Since this is about space and not time we can toss Aeor and Avalir too, since they once were places, and while we're at it whatever the fuck is going on with the Shattered Teeth and its permanent fog cloud and fish dream cult and capitalist shipwrecked merchants.

And, of course, any arbitrary square millimeter of Wildemount, frankly, has more Mostness than the entirety of Emon could muster under absolutely ideal conditions. But for the sake of one place per region, let's hand it to Rosohna (city of eternal night for practical purposes, built over the Evil God Headquarters); Uthodurn (underground! Giant goats! Elves and dwarves, living together, mass hysteria!); Hupperdook (steampunk gnome party city); Nicodranas (Fjord, Jester, Veth, Marion, and Yussa literally all live there at once; plumbing used to be courtesy of an imprisoned marid...but watch out); and Blightshore (Blightshore).

In conclusion: Emon is boring, nominating it was a mistake, there are literally sealed gods in other parts of the world and also way better taverns, good night, and what the fuck.

#critical role #long post

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azgfggf · 1 month

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For a while I’ve been trying to articulate why XWP means so much to me, and I think I’ve figured it out. It seems to come from a bizzaro world where everything is just. Equal. It feels like a real feminist show because the women are so respected.

I realized this when watching episode 6 (or seven maybe?) there was a scene where Xena was imprisoned, feet chained to the floor and hands to the ceiling. A group of men came in with the express purpose to harm, and in a moment of clarity I realized that I didn’t fear for Xena in the way I did for every other female in fantasy. Fantasy (as a male dominated genre) is full of sexual violence towards women, often used as story beats or just shock. It permeates women’s real lives and bleeds into what they read for escapist fantasy. For a long time I’ve felt as if nowhere is truly safe, because most fantasy media eventually has a scene or two where a woman is violated, or a costume that’s glorified lingerie, and I have to remind myself that this genre was never made with women in mind. But that scene ended with Xena beating the shit out of them, because they tried to beat her. Not assault or grab, just punches and kicks, like men would fight in fantasy. And she fucking won because she’s Xena and she’s awesome.

Again, in many episodes men want her. But they’re never violent towards her. In the show she is treated like a man would be treated in any fantasy setting. With respect. That’s true escapism for me, some world where that kind of violence either doesn’t exist or isnt prevalent. A world so easy to make, and yet so often thrown aside because of “historical accuracy”. In fiction. The specifically not historically accurate genre where you can pull anything out of your ass and people just kinda have to vibe with that.

I’ve also mentioned this before, but it’s so rare in fantasy for women to be…carefree I guess? Most of them are jaded from past violence, or future survivors, or meek healers, or old wise women. None of which are very allowed to be silly like their male counterparts. They’re always serious, always the voice of reason. Always so reigned in from what male characters are allowed to be. Xena has a dark past, but she’s still kind. The story is still light. Women are allowed to be happy without being victimized.

XWP is fantasy first and foremost, and it works wonders. There are POC everywhere, and nobody calls attention to it because, well, that’s just how it is in Xena-land. There’s no sexual violence toward any strong women, because, well, that’s just how it is in Xena-land. People fight on bamboo poles and race chariots in rivers and the steaks only go up to “Ooooo she has to marry the big bad” which never goes anywhere because we all know Xena is gonna stop them.

Xena Warrior Princess is always gonna be my favorite fantasy show, because it’s fantasy that’s finally geared towards women. A fantasy where women are safe, are capable, are treated in the same regard as men with no quippy girl-power one-liners because nobody needs to quip about the status quo. In a genre where women are so often demeaned and violated for minor story beats or shock value, seeing a work that actually feeds into a more female fantasy is what I’m obsessed with. It’s wonderful to see a magical world where women don’t have to live in fear. Or they do, like because cyclops’s n shit but everybody else does that too.

PS: this mostly applies to modern fantasy. Tolkien and Lewis were two authors I grew up on who I largely blame for my fantasy obsession today.

#xena warrior princess #xena and gabrielle #xenaverse #Never seen Hercules. but I really hope it’s at least the same caliber as this.#posts made wayyyy too late yall I am in my feelings.#xwp #Lucy Lawless??? more like Lucy FLAWLESS

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