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Winter's King 11
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: friday, my day, am i right?
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there? 
“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.” 
“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.” 
You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you. 
“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate. 
You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.” 
“You are not in Debray now,” he muses. 
You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him. 
“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance. 
“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.” 
“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--” 
“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.” 
You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.” 
You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone. 
“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.” 
You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment. 
“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...” 
“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?” 
You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath. 
“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.” 
“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating. 
He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain. 
“We may begin simple,” he intones. 
So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response. 
“You have a question?” He prompts. 
“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines. 
“I can tell,” he says brightly. 
You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks. 
“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles. 
He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait. 
“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.” 
“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter. 
“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides. 
“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.” 
He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.” 
You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do? 
⚔
“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.” 
“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.  
“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.” 
You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair. 
“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--” 
“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.” 
“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.” 
“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.” 
You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?” 
You twist around to look at the door, then to him. 
“I will go wherever you command, your highness.” 
“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?” 
There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you. 
“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.” 
He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.” 
“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?” 
Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away. 
“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you. 
He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh. 
“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.” 
You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.” 
He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed. 
“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.” 
You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away. 
“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table. 
Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales. 
He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow. 
“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.” 
You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall. 
Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife. 
He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts. 
He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool. 
He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream. 
“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.” 
You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months. 
“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.” 
He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side. 
“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.” 
You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there. 
He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs. 
Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand. 
“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you. 
“A game, your highness?” You babble. 
He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.” 
Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king. 
“Your highness,” you utter. 
“It’s my command,” he says, “run.” 
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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 11 hours
Text
Vices and Virtues
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Kinktober prompt: Threesome
Relationship: Crowley/Castiel x Reader
Content: 18+ only; threesome, unprotected sex, throat fucking, p in v, creampie, degradation, double penetration, oral (f and m receiving)
Summary: After a drunken ramble, an Angel of the Lord, and the King of Hell, both take on your challenge. Turns out, Angels can be just as depraved as demons.
A/N: to make Kinktober a little more exciting, i wanted to go with a pairing that doesn’t happen too often! if you have requests for other characters, let me know!
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Angels and demons have been polar opposites for millennia. Before you’d gotten into hunting, discovering what lurks in the dark, you had a basic idea of ‘good’ and ‘evil’. After some time you realized that, surprisingly, angels are dicks. It was something Dean professed every now and again.
Over time, while getting to know both an angel and a demon, it opened your eyes to a morally gray truth. Demons can sometimes have their reasons for raising Hell, sometimes even literally. Angels, despite their reputation in modern religion, weren’t always good.
Both angels and demons have both proven themselves at breaking their stereotypes. Demons weren’t always headstrong about painful torture, and angels cared too little about being ‘perfectly innocent”.
That realization hit you even harder now that you lay sprawled on the bed, with two pairs of eyes staring you down.
You were fully clothed, but with the way these two looked at you, you may as well have been stark naked. Crowley had been utterly silent, shifting glances between you and the angel. Contemplating.
Castiel, who had before been so awkward before, held an air of confidence, looking at you intently and giving a dark nod to Crowley. You sat up fully, crossing your legs as you looked between the two men, though that was a loose term.
“So,” you started, “what’s up?”
Your tone was level, but it didn’t dismiss the blush spread on your face, or the way your hair on your arms stood on end. You’d known precisely how you’d gotten into this situation, and it was all because of a stupid question a few weeks ago.
It was a simple evening for everyone to relax. You, the Winchesters, Crowley, Castiel, and Rowena had been drinking since you’d all gotten home from a long hunt. More like mission, really, but you were all home safe, and one piece. Some parts of that night had become fuzzy, but you couldn’t forget what you’d said to Castiel and Crowley when the others had left, or simply passed out.
“You think angels and demons have ever
 heh
 done it? Like, together?” Your words slurred together in a drunken stupor.
Castiel had given you a thoughtful look, but stared at the ceiling as he gave an answer.
“It would be possible, though it’s rather confusing. I can’t imagine an angel and demon taking one another into
 the bedroom.”
Crowley piped up, “It’s only because our feathery friends think they’re above that. Total prudes, if you ask me.”
“Good thing no one asked you,” Castiel quipped, sipping his drink.
You’d all laughed it off, thinking that was the only time you would talk about it. After all, it was just a hypothetical joke, a drunken ramble.
You’d been wrong about that. It seemed that Crowley and Cas remembered every word and flirty smile you gave them that night. Crowley took a step toward you with his hands tucked behind his back, a smug smile spread across his face.
“I’m sure you recall what you’d said to us back then, about angels and demons, and their time in the bedroom.”
Shit.
You froze, eyes wide up at him while he continued.
“It got me thinking,” Crowley nodded to Castiel, “that it could be more authentic if you had the real experience.”
You reeled over his words, the pit of your stomach grew heavy as you realized just what he meant. Castiel followed Crowley’s lead and stepped toward you, his face still as stone.
“Cas?” you asked, “Are you okay with this?”
He nodded solemnly, “I didn’t know how to
 navigate the situation. I was given some help.”
You cocked your head to the side, looking between the two in confusion. Crowley smiled, nodding to the angel.
“I may have given Feathers a little something to, well, help us in this. Our sweet Castiel was feeling shy, so I decided to lend him a hand.”
Castiel rubbed his nose quickly, and it clicked. Crowley must have given him some sort of aphrodisiac for tonight. Castiel shifted on his feet, glancing down to his crotch, assessing when something would kick in.
“Come here, sweetness,” commanded the King of Hell, ushering you over with beckoning fingers. You did as you were told, striding over to the demon.
Crowley cupped your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your cheekbone. His eyes raked over your face, hovering on your lips before he leaned in, planting a soft kiss. You hummed into him, letting out a high moan into his mouth when you felt another warm body from behind.
A set of hands gripped your hips and drew them back, brushing fully against a newly hard Castiel. He ground into you gently as Crowley moved his lips fluidly with your own. A breath caught in your throat when Castiel’s lips found your neck, trained on the soft spot below your ear.
He sucked at your throat, adding a painful pressure that sent heat straight to your core. The marks you would have later would have a complicated explanation, for certain.
You whined softly into Crowley’s mouth, bringing out a deep hum from him. The demon’s hands finally moved down your body, taking their time over your shoulders, down to your chest, and to your waist. He kneaded softly at the supple flesh of your middle. Your head was spinning from the rush, unsure as to which man you should give your attention.
Sometimes, Castiel’s ability to read minds was irritating, but it was your saving grace tonight. His voice creeped over your hot skin as a low growl.
“You’re nervous,” he whispered. “You can’t decide what to do, correct? All I ask is that you breathe. Relax. Let us take care of the rest.”
You let out a bated breath, melting into the two men that kept you from falling apart at their voices. Castiel’s hands wandered to your front and moved upwards to your chest, gently palming your breasts through your shirt. You mewled softly when his fingers brushed over your nipples; he toyed with the hardened buds, rolling them between his fingers.
Crowley slipped under your shirt, pushing it upwards to your collarbone, exposing your aching breasts to the cold air of the room. He dipped his head to your chest, taking claim of a nipple from Castiel, swirling a warm tongue around it. You arched your chest into his touch, stomach tightening with each movement.
There was an air of urgency around you. You needed more, the glorious torture sent you in a tizzy, desperate for attention to your aching sex. Each part of you throbbed in unison, a soft cry for their touch.
“Someone’s growing impatient,” Castiel murmured against your skin. Crowley chuckled in reply before breaking away from you. He stared at you mischievously, snapping his fingers.
In the blink of an eye, your clothes vanished, as did Castiel and Crowley’s. Two thick cocks landed against your body, eager and throbbing with each grind into your nude form. Castiel eased his length against the middle of your ass, pumping himself on you. Crowley ground into you from the front, his heavy length pressed into your stomach.
Every part of you ached in need. To be touched. To be ravaged. To be fully used.
Crowley brought a hand to your neck, pressing firmly on either side to give you that crazed pleasure from lack of air. He urgently crashed his lips to yours as you struggled to breathe. His hand released you from its grip; the blood rushing back in had you panting, a sloppy smile on your face as you ogled the demon.
It was Castiel’s hands that were more greedy, to your surprise. He took his time groping your ass, your hips, your breasts.
“Seems that our angel appreciates your looks just as much as I do,” Crowley purred against your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You shivered at the air that blew across your skin, bucking your hips into Castiel’s length.
Crowley pulled you with him as he neared the bed, Castiel wasn’t far behind, pumping his cock with a fervent hand.
You sat on the edge of the bed. Crowley gently kissed your jaw, reaching your ear.
“Lay down, darling.”
Crawling to the top of the bed, you laid your head against the pillows. Castiel stood to your right, now making his way toward you. The bed dipped as both men came to your side, splitting up and moving to each end of your body.
Crowley trailed his tongue along your thigh, nipping your skin along the way. You reached upward to Cas, carding your fingers into his hair before tugging him down to you, pressing your lips to his.
As if it were lock and key, Castiel quickly took you over, kissing you with unmatched passion. His hands found your chest as they’d done before, twisting your nipple to bring out another high-pitched whine into his mouth.
Your legs were being urged apart, spread completely before Crowley, who awed at the sight of your wet slit, pulsing with each heartbeat and inviting entry. He dipped lower, nestling comfortably between your legs. His tongue jutted out and licked a wide stripe through your folds. Your hips bucked onto his tongue as it passed over your clit.
Castiel pulled away, “Does this feel good?”
The angel, as always, cared about you deeply. Your pleasure was his responsibility tonight, and he wanted to make sure he and Crowley were delivering the best service to you.
You nodded, gasping when Crowley wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the swollen bud while his tongue flicked across the bundle of nerves. You needed more. To touch them.
Until now, you’d been so quickly overcome with pleasure you’d lost all sense to return the favor. You reached toward Cas blindly, finding his cock and wrapping your hand firmly around the shaft. He grunted as you pumped him with a tight grip, brushing your thumb over the head of his cock, now slick with precum.
You twisted your top half to face him, gripping the back of Castiel’s thigh and pulling him closer. His cock prodded your cheek before your tongue guided him into your mouth, swirling around the tip. He shuddered, bucking his hips eagerly into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head on his length, pushing yourself lower and lower until the head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat.
“Fuck,” Castiel cursed, paired with a low moan He stared in amazement as you worked on him, the way your lips looked better wrapped around him. An image he knew would never leave his mind.
Crowley drew your attention back to him, pressing a finger to your slick entrance, dipping in with ease. He curled the digit to brush your g-spot, sending a wave of heat across your skin. You moved your hips on his finger, whining around Castiel’s cock in your effort to get more pressure.
“Not a good
 angle,” Castiel said gruffly. He pulled himself from your mouth, a string of spit showing you just how sloppy you’d gotten. Crowley broke his mouth away from your pussy, his fingers still pumping into you as Castiel took hold of your shoulders.
The angel tugged you sideways and backwards. Your head hung off the side of the bed, directly in front of Castiel’s thighs. His cock thumped against your jaw, a silent command to open your mouth. You slacked your jaw to allow him in, sucking him greedily.
He cradled your head in his hands, thrusting his hips into your mouth, the head of his cock hit the back of your throat with more ease this time. From this angle, he could fully use your throat, warm and tight.
“Good,” cooed the angel, shoving himself further into your mouth, “Good girl, open up.”
Your mouth had never felt more full, now being stuffed by Castiel’s dick. Tears stung in your eyes, falling past your cheeks and into your hair. You gagged on his length, barely finding a second to breathe. Cas stilled and pulled out of your mouth, patting your cheek lightly.
“Take a breath,” he instructed.
It was hard to do so when there was a demon’s fingers buried in your cunt. You cried out when Crowley’s pace quickened, with the tension in your abdomen you could hardly breathe at all.
Crowley shifted himself into his knees, leaning over to watch your expression as he pounded his fingers against your walls. You gaped up at him, straining your neck to watch his smile grow as an orgasm took you over wholly. Blinding white light clouded your vision as you clenched around his fingers.
Between your soft whimpers, Crowley praised you, “That’s a good girl. You look so beautiful like this.”
You relished in the praise, eagerly opening your mouth for Castiel once again. He pushed himself past your lips, striking the back of your mouth and easing into you slowly, filling your throat. He thrusted slowly at first, but quickly lost himself in the tightness of your throat, his hips hurting harshly into your mouth. You gagged loudly around him, but it went ignored. Castiel kept his relentless pace, glancing to Crowley and giving him a nod.
As he fucked your throat, Crowley positioned himself at your soaked folds, pressing the thick tip of his cock against your swollen clit. You cry out around Cas’s cock, drowned out by a harsh gag when he shoved himself in fully. He eased out of you as Crowley eased himself in, their movements in tandem with one another.
Hissing through gritted teeth, Crowley stretched you inch by inch, snapping his hips into yours as he bottomed out. You’d never though someone could be filled so easily, to feel like both ends of your body would be split right down the middle.
Crowley moved slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Castiel let up his movements, staring longingly at your pussy, now wrapped nicely around the demon’s cock. If there was a good word for how he felt, it would be jealousy.
The angel grew frustrated, a new wave of sadistic pleasure taking him over.
He smacked your cheek, “I’m not done.”
You opened your mouth dutifully, moaning around his cock. He kept his pace slow this time, giving your throat some well-needed relief. You wound your tongue around the head when he pulled from you, sucking harshly around his tip, bringing out a soft whimper. His hips sputtered slightly before he quickly pulled back, breathing heavily.
“Careful, Castiel,” Crowley teased, pulling you down onto his cock. “Keep going like that, you’ll disappoint our little toy, here.”
Castiel glared at the demon. His chest heaved with his heavy breaths, trying to recollect himself before going further. He lifted your shoulders and adjusted you back onto the bed. Crowley kept himself buried deep in your stretched pussy, jutting his hips to strike deeper and crash against your cervix.
There was no way you could disappointed this night. Not with the way your body was being taken advantage of, in the best way imaginable. You clenched down onto Crowley’s length, making him groan at the tightness of your walls. They fluttered around him as another climax crept up. With a few quick thrusts, the demon had you falling apart on his cock.
He laughed softly, “Slutty little thing, getting spit roasted like that. Two cocks using you until you’re all filled up.”
Crowley kept your gaze as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust. The noises coming from your pussy were wet, sloppy, and utterly divine. It was just what Crowley needed to hear, to know he was doing his job right.
A pair of lips found yours once again, moving smoothly against you as you shuddered around Crowley again. The shockwaves of your orgasm were hardly over before Crowley pulled his length out of your sweet cunt, stretched and aching to be filled again.
“Let’s have you on your knees, kitten,” Crowley directed, lifting you up to a sitting position. His gaze softened as he looked you over. Castiel gave you a concerned look.
“Is this still okay for you?” the angel asked, eyes keening for your answer.
You nodded quickly, looking between the two men, “Of course. It’s wonderful. I was wondering if
 well
” you trailed off.
Crowley lifted your chin to look at him, “Use your words, princess.”
Biting your lips, you thought about how to phrase the words. You looked sheepishly between them, “I was wondering if you could take turns. From behind, I mean.”
A darkness pooled in his eyes at the thought. To use you so freely was a blessing he’d realized he went so long without. After this, he hoped you’d remember who you belonged to this night, whose names you would be screaming.
Crowley backed up, allowing you room to position yourself. You crept toward the edge of the bed, ass up in the air, your sore pussy in full view for them. They both approached you, gazing at the lewd sight before them. You pathetically ground your hips into nothing, your hole and clit being neglected as they took their time.
“Tell me, sweetheart, who’s this?” Crowley asked lowly. A cock sat at your entrance, teasing your hole before easing inside, stretching you out slowly. You were fucked slowly, letting your body adjust and asses the feeling. Hips snapped into yours, the cock crashing against your cervix. These movements felt different from before. The length still filled you, but not as it had done with Crowley.
“Cas
 Castiel,” you whimpered.
“Smart girl,” Castiel said from behind. He rolled his hips into you, sending his cock deep into your pussy. A familiar wetness leaked from you down to your clit, completely soaked in your slick. Castiel eased himself into you until he reached the hilt of his length, stilling inside of you, processing the way your walls wrapped around him, slick and hot.
Ready to be used.
His hips crashed into you without warning. You bit into the sheets as you cried through gritted teeth. Castiel fucked you mercilessly, his balls smacking against your clit and sending shocks of pleasure to your heat, wrapping ever tighter around the angel’s cock. He grunted in response, landing a blow to your ass. A wide pink handprint now decorated your skin, followed by a series of other blows to deepen the rosy color.
Crowley tapped Castiel on the shoulder. You overheard him talking to the angel between your cries of ecstasy.
“Fill that cunt to the brim, Castiel. Use that hole properly.”
On command, Castiel’s thrusts became harsher, more frantic. His thick cock stretched your walls with each movement as he slammed himself into your cervix. Your stomach tightened as you came around him, letting out a loud cry of his name into the sheets.
Quickly undone, Castiel felt a rush over him when you said his name. His thrusts faltered again, cock twitching as he spilled his load into you. He pushed deeper as he finished, fucking his cum deeper inside of your cunt.
Crowley smiled at this, smirking to the angel. “Bred like the perfect little bitch. Good work, Castiel.”
Sweat pooled at Castiel’s brow, streaking down his face as he composed himself, regaining his breath. He looked to Crowley with a drained look before pulling from you. You whined as he left you empty.
Castiel resigned to the bed, flopping back to lay by your side. He shifted to brace himself on his arm, stroking a hand through your hair. Little praises flowed from him while Crowley lined himself with your entrance.
“You’re doing so wonderfully, sweetheart.”
You gave him a lazy smile, exhausted from the toll he’d taken on you. Your attention snapped back when you felt the head of Crowley’s cock press at your pussy, coated with what of Castiel’s cum had dripped out of you. He gripped the base of his cock and eased into you as he’d done before, filling you up deeper from this angle.
After a moment he was fully settled in, feeling your warmth around his length. Crowley groaned lowly as he began to thrusts, achingly slow at first.
Hardly done, and you were sore, to say the least. The internal battle of your soreness, versus the sweet sensation of a cock filling you, could never be won. You pushed your hips onto his length, smacking softly against his hips. In reply, Crowley harshly gripped your hips and began to pick up his pace.
Each moan was a symphony, a song of whines and groans that could only be one thing.
Pure, frenzied pleasure.
You arched your back when Castiel’s hands roamed over your perk nipples, fondling each breast as best he could given the angle. You hoisted yourself up on your elbows to grant him permission to go further. His calloused hands ran across your chest to your face, cupping it gently while he watched your expression contort with each deep thrust.
Castiel smiled warmly as you cried out Crowley’s name, unable to move from the grip the angel had on you. His eyes were glued to yours. He wouldn’t dare miss a second of this.
After he’d felt you before, Crowley was just as easily spellbound by the way you took him. Each thrust pulled him further to the edge of his own orgasm, but he was intent on drawing another one from you before he did so.
“Who does this belong to?” Crowley’s voice was soft as the finest silk.
At this point, each sensation rolling through you left you gasping, all rationale had left you completely.
You dumbly whimpered out a reply, “You
 both of you.”
Crowley snapped his hips into yours, setting his cock impossibly deep inside your pussy. His pace was, arguably, more intense than Castiel’s, ravaging you whole as you shuddered around him. Your climax tore through you like lightning - your vision blurred, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
“Smart girl. You’ll get your reward very soon,” Crowley said sweetly.
Your clenched down onto him, smiling to yourself when you felt the King’s cock twitch inside of you. Crowley breathed haggardly but remained intent on his brutal pace, stretching every warm inch of your cunt to fit his cock perfectly.
Castiel’s lips caught your own, swallowing the sweet sounds you made when Crowley’s thrusts began to grow sloppy. Crowley slammed himself into you once, twice, three times until his own orgasm hit him. He slowed his movements as his own released spilled inside of you, coating your tight cunt in his cum - a reward for your obedience.
He pulled from you slowly, his drained cock hanging heavily at your ass. Warmth flooded over you as cum leaked from your pussy, staining the sheets beneath you. You lowered yourself to sit on your knees. What all had been resting inside of your sex was still flowing out of you - it was it’s own reward for being of service to these two men, after all.
Castiel presented a newly-summoned washcloth, warm and damp to the touch. He left it up to you to clean yourself before snapping his fingers, cleaning himself entirely.
“Oh, please, Cas. Where are your manners?” Crowley said, snapping.
In an instant you were fully clean and dry, melting into the mattress with a sigh. Crowley’s clothes had come back, as did Castiel’s a moment later. The two men sat your side, looking over you with pure endearment.
“I certainly hope that that was okay,” whispered Crowley, carding his fingers through your hair. You nodded, groggily shifting yourself to sit up with them. Each movement reminded you of how sore you’d be tomorrow. Regardless, it was an unforgettable experience you’d think about for a very, very long time.
With another snap of his fingers, Crowley handed you a set of thick, cozy pajamas, paired with fuzzy socks. You smiled at him, thankful that he valued your comfort.
“Are you sore at all?” Castiel piped up.
You nodded, “It’s okay, though. I like it.”
Castiel’s brows furrowed, “Humans are strange
 some of you like being in pain. It is a foreign concept.”
“We could make it not-so-foreign, if you’d like,” Crowley retorted. Castiel simply rolled his eyes instead of the signature glare. You shuffled into your pajamas and sat back on the bed.
Neither the angel nor the demon left your side, instead leaning back into the bed with you.
“Staying?” you asked, “I was going to put on a movie.”
Castiel powered on the TV, “Take your pick.”
#please#id take both#happily
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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 12 hours
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I NEVER NOTICED THAT. I'M BLIND AND STUPID
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Same chair, same destiny ?
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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 12 hours
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Hey pookie, how are you! I was wondering if you could do a romantic spn pref for sam, dean, castiel, crowley, and gabe? The plot would be that they're on a hunt with the reader and they have to infiltrait a strip club. The reader is female so she poses as a striper (she wears a white angle outfit). At one she pulls she pulls one of the guys into a private room to talk about the plan, but they see a camera in the room so the reader gives the guy a lap dance while explaining the plan as to not get caught. There is alot of sexual tension, and the guys have a crush on the reader. At this point they're only friends though. Thanks girl!
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Private. (SPN Pref!) ❀
a/n: i devoured this prompt. i am in heat. i hope you like this pookie!!!
warnings: SUGGESTIVE!!! read at your own risk, strip club, stripper!reader, lap dances, grinding, no actual smut but nsfw xx
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Dean:
dean didn’t imagine this being his wednesday night.
his eyes watched you on the stage, walking around and pretending to be busy. the dainty Angel costume you were wearing hugged you in all the right places - just enough for him to imagine more.
in his distraction, he dosent realize you’re trying to get his attention.
he was suddenly pulled into one of the back, private rooms. he looked over and met your pretty eyes. he smiled.
“dean, i got info.” you smiled, closing and locking the door behind you both.
he was going to respond but his eyes caught something else. a camera. it seemed like you noticed too because you sighed.
dena watched you pull the chair to where the camera faced.
“sit.” you said in a seductive voice.
it’s just for the bit.’ dean reminded himself. he shakily sat down.
you walked toward him, back facing the camera. his eyes widened and face blushed as you started to give him a lap dance.
he was stiff as a board, too nervous to move.
“at least pretend you like it. we have to sell it so we don’t get caught.” you whisper in his ear, pressing kisses to his jawline.
shivers went down his spine and he nodded, grabbing onto your hips.
he stared into your eyes as you spoke, only being able to focus on the feeling of your hips on his, moving and grinding against him. his jaw clenched and he bit his lip, rubbing your hips with his thumbs.
you spoke about the case but he could barley hear you.
eventually you stopped, smiling at him.
“pay up, lover.” you grinned playfully.
he tried to hide his boner, giving you a forced smile as you walked away. his breath heavy and cheeks beet red.
—
Sam:
sam was nose deep in one of his papers of his research he scraped together. his cheeks were red, trying not to look up at you.
not because he didn’t want to - no. he wanted to. more than anything. but if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away.
despite his efforts, when he felt a hand on his shoulder he had to look up. it was you.
the white angel outfit you were wearing caught his attention. it was tight and revealing, something he wasn’t used to seeing you in.
“come with me.” you lean down and whisper to him. he just nodded, following you.
he then found himself sitting on a chair in one of the back rooms.
“there’s cameras. i have to play my part sammy.” you said to him, and he nodded
“anything you want.”
he blushed again as you started to give him a lap dance. his eyes widened.
you spoke softly about the case, but he could only focus on your body and how it moved atop of his own.
he pretended he was listening, but he was struggling. only feeling the fogginess of his mind and the weight of your body on his lap.
it was over much too soon for his liking
you got off of him and smiled.
“maybe we do this more often.” you said with a smirk.
—
Castiel:
poor boy
remember when he first went to the strip club
that’s him but x10 when he sees you
he’d never seen you in such clothing. not that he was complaining at all. if anything, he was ecstatic about it.
when you met his eyes from across the room, he got up and walked toward you immediately. you didn’t even have to ask (😍)
he followed you into the back rooms.
“cas. i gotta give you a lap dance.”
“what?”
“i’ve gotta play my part. is this okay?”
“
yes?”
castiel didn’t know what a lap dance was.
so when you started to actually do it
wowowowowow
he was gobsmacked.
his hands rested on your waist and he let you do whatever you had to do.
he bit back moans as he was so sensitive
but he listened intently to what you had to say about the case. his hips moved slightly with your body and his face was bright red.
he focused on your words but his eyes drank in how you moved against him and how his hands squeezed your hips
he could feel his dick throbbing against his jeans but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it
you got off of him eventually and he stayed sitting.
“c’mon. we gotta go.” you grinned and walked out before him. he was left with shaking hands and a red face.
—
Crowley:
he watched all of the people at the club with wandering eyes, stopping when he saw you
your outfit fit you perfectly and hugged you in all the right places
crowleys eyes wandered down your body as you came closer to him.
“come.” you said softly, leading him to the private rooms. he smirked.
“now, i didn’t know you wanted this, y/n.”
you just smirk and sit him down in the chair.
you start the lap dance, bringing your mouth close to his ear and whispering the plan to him, grinding your hips against his.
his hands ran over your body and hips, feeling the curves of your body and the softness of your skin
he was grinning, listening to the plan while also enjoying the thrusts and movements of your body
he wanted you to continue for hours. days. forever
but when you got off of him, he had to refrain from pulling you back onto his lap.
—
Gabe:
his eyes were on you from the start
he watched you with a passion, drinking in your appearance and how your white costume looked on your body.
the body he’d dreamed about seeing for months
that’s why he follows you into the back room without question
that’s also why he has to bite back moans when you start grinding against his lap, dancing
he watches with wide eyes, trying to listen to your words but drowning them out as he squirmed against your body weight
he gripped your hips and waist just a little bit too hard
he nodded along to the plan he wasn’t following, just watching your hips and body against his own
he let a groan slip from his lips at one point
his hips moving in rut him with your own
literally driving him insane.
but he’s not complaining
#im dying#yes#just yes
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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 12 hours
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"Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out." Surprise me!
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"Is that so?" You teased back, leaning just to the edge of the Devil's Trap that Crowley was currently stuck inside. "See- I just think you're trying to cut a deal with me. Lure me in with your smirks and your fancy business suit."
Crowley arched a brow, watching you calculatingly and making sure to not betray a single thought going through that mind of his.
"And besides," you playfully picked at your nails before flashing the King of Hell a very suggestive flash of teeth and tongue. "You wish I'd let you kiss me. Sorry, darling, but I'm not sure you'd survive this ride."
"See, this is why you're my favourite, darling," Crowley replied, stepping as close as the trap would allow. "You know how to play."
You whipped around, pulling the chair further away from the trap so you could settle into it and put your feet up on the table alongside it, continuing your very important job of babysitting. Crowley was a slippery little fucker. If you weren't here, it definitely wouldn't be long before he found a way out.
"Tease," Crowley shot with no venom.
"Mm, you know it, handsome," you winked back, settling in for a long night.
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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 12 hours
Text
Holy shit, I loveee thiss
↬ hellish elysian
Elysian - relating to or characteristic of heaven or paradise.
Pairing: Crowley x afab!Reader Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking / breath play, impact play, hair pulling, degradation, mention of blood kink
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The original objective of this entire situation had been manipulation. But, at this point, it was impossible to tell who was manipulating whom – or if that was at all part of the dynamic anymore.
Post-human blood debacle, Crowley felt more vulnerable than he had in a few hundred years. Being around demons too often felt risky, lest they sniff out his vulnerability & use it to their advantage. But he craved touch, affection, and closeness – which made him feel like a whiny child, but he couldn't get rid of the craving without satiating it. The best option, in this “between a rock and a hard place” scenario, was none other than one of the people who had a hand in attempting to make him human.
You.
You clearly knew of his involvement in the third trial, and you were a human. Even though you were a hunter – a damn good one, at that – you were still just a human, so he viewed you as less of a threat than any demons he could use for sex.
Or, at least, that's how he justified it. The truth was that Crowley had wanted to fuck you since the day he met you – first just to piss off Moose and Squirrel, then simply because something about you made his trousers tighter.
On your end, the rationale wasn't too different from Crowley's. Given the endless flirtatious comments the King of Hell threw your way, you often contemplated whether you could use sex as a bargaining chip with him. Sure, he was undeniably hot, and something about that gravely accented voice made you flush. But it didn't seem to be a card you truly wanted to play – until you basically got a late night “booty call” text from an unmistakable 666 phone number.
You got some juicy intel out of it, and a couple of ancient relics, both of which helped on the next couple of hunts. The next time, you got a very old, very powerful protection amulet. The third time
 well, you came so hard you passed out, so you just called that transaction square. The fourth time was just a lavish dinner, a horse-drawn carriage ride around Paris at night, and a stay in a hotel that was so over-the-top fancy you could scarcely believe your eyes.
You lost track after that, but eventually
 there were no transactions, no trades. Just mind-blowing, spine-melting, moral-disintegrating sex.
Crowley still bought you dresses with four-figure price tags to wear to swanky restaurants, followed by stays in five star hotels or rented million-dollar homes, fucking the brains out of one another on every surface. But somewhere along the way, any attempts at personal gain via manipulation were lost, and the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.
Which is what brought you to your current position – naked on silk sheets, barely clinging to consciousness as the King of Hell made you cum on his tongue for the umpteenth time that evening.
Crowley spoke, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. It sounded like he was far away as you gasped for air, eyes closed as you came down from your high.
“You look so pretty like this, pet,” he purred, absentmindedly kissing your inner thighs – each peck of his lips making you twitch. “Fucked within an inch of your life by none other than moi. Oh, I love to see it.”
Agonizingly slow, Crowley made his way up your body, leaving nips and kisses in his wake. Thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, throat, jaw – and, finally, your lips. As he situated himself between your legs, the familiar feeling of his rock hard cock grinding against your soaked pussy invaded your senses, causing you to sigh into the kiss. He continued to glide his shaft through your folds, teasing you until you began to whine.
“Something you want, darling?” Crowley asked lightheartedly, grinding harder against you. When you merely whined and hooked your legs around him, trying to pull him closer, he let out a condescending tsk tsk tsk. “You know what to say to get exactly what you want.”
However, his smirk faded when you rolled your eyes.
“I am not saying that.”
“You will if you want me to finish the job.”
That only made you smile, because god, it was always so fun to call his bluffs.
You shrugged, moving to leave the bed, “Meh, the job is finished enough, I'd say. We can go ahead and call it a day.”
Lightning fast, Crowley let out a quiet growl, grabbed you by the jaw, turned your head to face him, agitation written all over his face. You merely smiled – which only irked him more.
“Fine. You don't have to call me ‘my king.’ Just
 just get back over here,” Crowley demanded, his voice becoming marginally more desperate at the end. You complied, falling into his arms on the bed, and he wasted no time in capturing you in a searing kiss.
One of his hands drifted lower to pump himself a few times, before snarling, “Cocky little bitch, aren’t you?” Before you could retort, he plunged into you in one swift thrust.
A loud, debauched moan escaped you, and you mindlessly raked your nails down Crowley’s back, earning a hiss from him – but you knew him well enough by now to know that he liked it.
The demon set a merciless pace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, beard scratching the sensitive flesh there.
“Hit me.”
The words fell from your lips before you’d even fully thought them through, but Crowley was never one to hesitate. Almost instantly, you felt his palm collide with your cheek – somehow with the perfect amount of pain to make it absurdly pleasurable.
You toppled over an edge you didn’t even realize you’d been approaching, coming undone beneath him with a scream. Vaguely, you heard Crowley hum in amusement. Before you’d fully regained your senses, he was flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, using his grip on you as leverage to resume harshly fucking you. He seemed to be aware that you were practically mindless at this point, as he manhandled you however he pleased.
As a cacophony of wet, lewd sounds and moans filled the room, you momentarily had enough mental clarity to recall why the nature of this arrangement was so hot: it’s wrong. It’s so goddamn wrong – for a skilled hunter to be knocking boots with the literal King of Hell. But fuck, does it feel so right when he’s inside of you – hitting your sweet spot with brutal, precise thrusts, pulling your hair harshly to force you upright and into a messy kiss.
When the kiss broke, you let your head fall back onto Crowley’s shoulder, and his heavy breathing hit your ear as he wrapped a strong hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount. You clenched around him, and he groaned – low and deep.
“Such a filthy whore you are, darling,” Crowley stated, that damned gravelly, accented voice causing you to clench around him again. Keeping one hand around your throat, the other drifted from your hip to your clit, rubbing steady circles over it. “Mm, you love it when I talk to you, don't you? Whether it’s praise or degradation – as long as I’m talking, it gets you moaning and gripping my cock like a bitch in heat. You’re positively vile, pet. And I love it.”
There were tears streaming down your face from listening to him, and from him toying with your overstimulated clit, and the sight brought a dark chuckle from deep within Crowley’s chest.
“My little succubus,” he mused, then abruptly slapped you again before returning that hand to your throat to give it a firm squeeze.
It was all too much. You came again with a strangled cry of his name. Ever the egomaniac, hearing you finish with his name on your lips was almost always his ending point as well, and Crowley bit down harshly onto your shoulder as he finished inside of you.
The pair of you fell to your sides on the bed, spooning with his cock still inside of you. Crowley draped his arm around your waist, then kissed the bite mark he left on your shoulder. When you turned your head slightly to speak to him, your breath was stolen from your lungs when you noticed the crimson blood on his lips. He opened his mouth to apologize for having bitten you so hard, but then he noticed the way your jaw hung slack, your breathing grew heavier, and your pupils darkened to the point that your irises were fully eclipsed. And he smirked.
“A blood kink, love? Always full of surprises, aren’t we?”
“Go to sleep, Crowley.”
“Another time then,” he replied, not missing the way you smiled as you turned away from him.
#not a lot of people seem to be writing for him#thank youu#i love him
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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 16 hours
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Aww, mouse đŸ«  I love it
But also... Fuck 😬 won't even ask who's in the room with her
Winter's King 10
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: have a wondeful thursday.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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Queen Jazlene slumps against her chair. She’s barely awake as her eyes glaze over. Despite your deflections at serving her, she’d drunk herself to excess, swiping away goblets that weren't hers. Her constant imbibition has not been missed by her husband. Slanted looks and gristly whispers did little to deter her, your own gentle girding only fuelling her irritation. 
The king stands, stepping forward to overshadow his slouching queen. He raises a hand to the remaining crowd; the clumsy and drunken dancers, the chittering ladies, and the boasting lords. They turn their attention to him and hush. 
“So I must retire for the night, I bid you all a hearty rest,” he pronounces, “and may tomorrow see a brighter sun shine upon us all.” 
A hurrah is sent up in return and the king waits until the large hall falls back into its previous din. He turns slowly, his head down, and flares his nostrils at his queen. His golden eyes skim up and down the table. 
“Come,” he takes her hand, “let us get you abed.” 
Jazlene yawns and hiccups. She does not resist as he tugs her to her feet, though she teeters once upright. He swiftly hooks his arm around her, keeping her away from the view of the hall. He huffs heavily and ushers her around the bench. 
“Maid,” he demands over his shoulder. 
You follow as he carries on, finding a door behind the high table. The dimness of the corridor fogs around his figure as Jazlene’s slippers begin to drag. She babbles and gurgles. 
“I warned you not to drink so much,” he mutters, “why can you not obey? Why can you not just do what is best for you?” 
You tread behind them silently. The king falters and grunts, scooping up his wife before she can slip further down his arm. As he lifts her, her head lolls back over his thick bicep. He growls and presses onward. 
As he reaches her chamber door, you come around to open it for him. He doesn’t say a word as he enters and you wait near the entrance as he lays Jazlene down on the bed. She is very silent and still, only the subtle rise and fall of her chest suggesting a glimmer of life. 
You peer around as the king looms over her, his hand on the post of the bed as he simmers at her. His other arm bends as he rubs the bridge of his nose. You go to the vanity and take the now cool basin of water. You reach into your apron pocket as you hug the large bowl and cross to the bed. 
You pull out a cloth as you sit on the edge of the mattress and balance the bowl against your bent leg. You wet the fabric and lean over the queen to wipe her face. The kohl around her eyes has begun to smear and a sheen of sweat layers over her rich skin. You sense the king watching your deliberate tending. 
“You are good to her,” he remarks. 
“She will not feel well in the morning,” you say, “I will make sure she has water to drink and a warm compress when she wakes, your highness.” 
He’s quiet as he considers your words, “you will stay with her?” 
You wring out the cloth and fold it over the edge of the basin before moving it back to the vanity. You face the king and clasp your hands over your apron, “she cannot be alone when she has drunk so much. Once...” you shake your head and let the statement taper out, “your highness, she will need me.” 
“Hmm,” he pulls his hand off the post, pacing around the end of the bed and turn towards you, “once what?” 
“Nothing, your highness. It was only a memory I had. It doesn’t matter now.” 
“I would like to hear it,” he insists. 
You swallow down the dryness in your throat, “your highness, well, her mother, the duchess, she is the same about wine. Once she drank overly much that she did not wake when her stomach revolted. If we’d not been there to watch over her, she might have choked on it.” 
“Ah, yes,” he stops, just a step away, “that would be unfortunate. I will thank you then for keeping a close eye on my lady wife.” 
“As is my duty, your highness.” 
His eyes blaze down at you and he shifts on his feet, “but will you sleep?” 
“Me? I rest in the cart--” 
“We will not leave on the morrow, I have business yet in the capital,” he explains, “when the lady is awake, you will make certain she is conscious, then you will go and seek rest of your own.” 
“Your highness, how generous, but she would need to break her fast, and dress anew, perhaps bathe--” 
“There are other maids in this castle. I am commanding you to retire for the day. You will need strength for our pending departure,” he bids, “to serve your queen upon the road.” 
You bow your head, apologetic, “your highness, I did not mean to argue. Certainly, I will do as you say. Thank you for minding me.” 
He inches forward and your shoulders slant as you shrink for his closeness. You see his thick fingers twiddle at his side and his hot breath blasts over you like a brazier. He cautiously bends his arm and touches the front of your apron. You quiver as you watch his calloused hand climb up the stained fabric. He pauses and shudders, pinching the loose thread poking out from the belt. He pulls it loose and rolls it between his fingertips. 
“You will have new clothes,” he backs away, feeling the thread, twisting it, “you are a queen’s maid now. Not some castle sweep.” 
You squeeze your hands tighter as you stare at his tunic, “yes, your highness. Thank you anon.” 
He turns on his sole reluctantly and looks upon the bed. You follow his gaze to his subdued wife. He hangs his head and puts his back to you before he pivots toward the door. He stalks toward it and pulls it open with enough strength to make the hinges whine. 
“Good night, little maid,” he drawls just before the door snaps shut in his stead. 
You raise your eyes completely and stare at the heavy wooden slats of the door. Your chest is knotted so tight you can hardly breathe. The king’s displeasure lingers even his absence. Is he unhappy with his inebriate wife or is it you? You quickly dismiss the latter. You don’t matter so much. No, his marriage is not an easy one thus far. 
⚔
You only know Queen Jazlene is awake as she spits bile onto the floor. Her head hangs over the side of the bed as she wretches and spews, coughing and gagging until she goes limp and groans. The acidic smell permeates the chamber and you come forward to clean it away with a cloth. 
Once you’ve sopped up the mess, you leave her to dispose of the smelly rags and return with a cool, fresh basin and a new cloth. You help her onto her back, propping her against the pillows and clean her face anew. She moans as she keeps her eyes closed, a ripple in her forehead. 
“Too bright,” she mutters. 
“I will draw the curtains, your highness,” you assure her as you rescind the cloth and rise to do so. 
She winces as you pull the heavy drapes together and groans, “my husband... did he not see back to my chamber?” 
“He carried you here, your highness,” you explain, “you were not feeling well.” 
“Mm, I still do not,” she decries. 
“Shall I call for a bath?” You suggest. 
“Do what you will but be quiet,” she hisses as she shades her eyes beneath her long fingers. 
She gurgles as she sinks down and rolls upon her side. She curls up and you stare at her back. You go to the door and ease it open. You emerge and pass between the guards without. You are no more than a draught to them. As you approach the stairs, your name is called from ahead. You peer down the next corridor. 
“Eh, there you are,” Bryce approaches. You can tell by the shine in his hair that he has bathed, “and what mission has you so intent?” 
“I am to fetch lemon water for the queen. She has a sour stomach,” you say and turn back to the steps.  
The soldier descends apace with you and chortles, “as she would. She can drain an ewer like no other I’ve seen.” 
“Mm,” you hum grimly. 
“Ah, pardon, I do not mean to be cruel,” he says, “it is only... often we reap what we sow, yes?” 
“I suppose,” you allow. 
“Speaking of, mouse, it is your turn to reap,” he spins and stretches his arm across your path, “king’s orders.” 
You shake your head in confusion. 
“The queen--” 
“I will send another for her lemon water. But our dear liege and lord has bid that you rest your head. And I do concur. You are only mortal, little mouse.” 
“But I must--” 
“Obey your king,” he insists and rescinds his arm, crossing it with his other across his chest. “I’ve been given leave to treat you as prisoner if ye resist but I do not wish to go so far.” 
You frown. You recall the night before. The king’s orders are not forgotten but you thought perhaps they mightn’t be standing. You bow your head and press your palm to your stomach, another memory flitting through your mind. The king’s hand brushing along the belt of your apron. 
“I’ve acquired you a fine chamber,” Bryce says. “Gods, how could one ever be so glum about a bed of their own?” 
“Sir, I am not unhappy,” you counter. “I am...” you lift your head, “tired.” 
“Oh, how the fates align,” he quips, “come then. There is a bath and new dress too. I was too kind to mention it but you were starting to smell a bit too close to Daisy.” 
You can’t but laugh and snort, “hey!” 
“May as well take benefit in staying still,” he says, “now, let us hurry before the water is cold.” 
You acquiesce and follow him away from the kitchen. You hope Jazlene is not discontent with your straying. You walk along several corridors and up to the second floor again. You do not expect to stop at one of thick doors meant for nobility. 
“In here,” Bryce takes out an iron key and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and steps back. “I will come in an hour to look in on you but I trust by then you will be abed.” 
“Yes, sir, thank you,” you affirm. 
“Be certain to have some of the food,” he orders you, “much better than the goat meat I’ve been chewing on.” 
You thank him one last time and enter on your own. He closes the door behind you and you hear the lock twist. The loud grind of cogs does not unsettle you. It’s rare you ever have a moment of solace, though often you feel alone. 
You look around the chamber. It is much too grand for you. There is a wide bed at one end with a long canopy. The window lets in a warm breeze as the steam coiling from the large tub dampens the air. The furniture here is just as fine as that in the queen’s rooms. 
You meander around and stop before the covered tray on the round table. You lift the lid and reveal an assortment of fruit and cooked oats drizzled with honey. Your stomach roars and clenches painfully. Without a thought, you sit on the stool to gulp the porridge from the brim. You empty near half the bowl before you stop to catch your breath. 
You pluck at the citrus and devour the fruit with delighted purrs. When you have glutted your hunger to the point of discomfort, you lick your lips and rise. You near the tub as untie your apron. Your body aches for the heat of the water. 
You leave the layers of your filthy garments on the floor and step into the depths. You sigh as you lower yourself in. Relief seeps through your flesh and enshrines you. You lay back for a time and bask in the calm. Before the water can cool, you sit up to scrub yourself clean. 
When you finish, you climb out and pull on the shift folded on the top of the stack; a dress, and apron, stockings, and even shoes. There is no cap. You fish around your disposed clothing and retrieve your own. You soak it in the bathwater, wringing it out until it’s not so browned. 
A knock comes at the door. You sit on the edge of the mattress and call to the visitor, “hello?” 
“Eh, it’s me,” Bryce’s salty timbre comes through the wood, “you sleep now, mouse.” 
“Yes, sir.” 
He taps the door and you hear his footsteps fade away. You recline across the bed and stare up at the canopy. You close your eyes but your stomach is uneasy. You don’t know why. The bed is too soft, the linens too fluffy. 
You puff and sit up. You get to your feet and circle around the bed to the short bench across the foot of it. You tuck yourself onto the barely cushioned wood and bend your legs to fit. You fold and arm under your head. Much better. 
It isn’t very long before you succumb to your fatigue. You don’t realise how tired you truly are until you’re buried in sleep. Heavy and dark, almost suffocating. 
Behind your eyelids, you see streaks of colour, curling and rolling into visions. Shadowy forests and endless roads, the clop of horse hooves, the rattle of axles, and the crunch of boots in the dirt. The preening whine of the Queen as she splashes wine across your face. You gasp through the acrid sprinkle and fall backwards into air.  
You land on a heap of hay. You’re back in Debray, in the barn where you would flit away with Merinda to eat or even steal a nap. She would watch at the window and you would doze or nibble. You look over but do not see her. Instead, another stands at the opening.  
The king’s silver white hair hangs in waves down his muscled back. He wears only breeches as he stares off into the distance. The window greys with a storm beyond, pulsing from shades of dove feather to harrowing black. He faces you and his golden eyes glow like a wolf’s. 
You sit up and whimper. He prowls closer and closer, thunder crashing as a great gust blows through the barn. Then all at once, the tempest subsides and the wooden walls turn to stone. You’re trapped beneath something unbreakable, like iron, wrists bound. You look at your arms, pinned by large hands. You look above you and find yourself straddled beneath the king. 
He leans in, closer and closer, his fiery breath razing over you. 
“Little maid...” 
His growl snakes around your neck and you wake with a start. The bench teeters as you sit up, your hand gripping your forehead. You blink and look around, clearing the haze from your sleepy eyes. 
Just as in your dream, you are not alone. 
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This is so painful I love it đŸ„ș💕
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Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
Angst
Your hands tremble as you sit on the toilet, the pregnancy test resting on the edge of the sink. The seconds felt like hours as you checked the timer on your phone, anxiously waiting for the result. Thirty seconds left. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.
The alarm on your phone went off, and with shaky hands, you picked up the test and flipped it over. The two little lines were unmistakable. You were pregnant. It was the third test you had taken, and the outcome remained the same. You were going to have a baby. You began to sob into your hands, overwhelmed by the weight of the situation.
Having a baby and raising a child in your line of work seemed impossible. It would require you to retire, to give up the life you had always known. Your mind raced, realizing you would need to tell Ghost.
But you couldn't bring yourself to do it just yet. You had asked him countless times to retire, to settle down, to start a family together. But he clung to the military life, holding onto it tighter than he would ever hold onto you.
The thought of having a family and settling down somewhere safe was something you had always yearned for, but you couldn't do it without him. You couldn't imagine having an absent husband or father, always fearing if he would make it home or not.
You knew Ghost's attachment to the military life ran deep. For the last three years, you had tried to reason with him, to convince him to retire. You had asked countless times, sat him down and begged him to hear you out, but he always refused. Each time, it was the same answer – he wasn't ready to retire.
His attachment to the military life was unwavering, and it felt as if he had never truly considered your feelings. It was always about him and what he wanted. You were both in your mid-thirties, and you couldn't keep waiting for him to come around. You needed more than the life you were leading, a family to call your own.
With resolve, you wrapped the pregnancy tests in layers of toilet paper and buried them deep in the trash can. Leaving the bathroom, you sat on your bed, checking the time. Ghost was likely finishing up his work out in the gym, he would be back soon.
You contemplated what you were going to say, knowing that you needed to have a serious conversation with him. It was either he retires with you, or you retire alone and move on with your life.
You had reached your limit, and you couldn't keep sacrificing your own dreams and desires for his career. As you heard the door open, you looked up, seeing Ghost walk into your shared room. He sighed and lay down next to you in bed, unaware of the life-altering decision you were on the verge of making.
You felt a sense of frustration building up in you. You had been wanting this for years, and every time you brought it up, it felt like hitting a brick wall. As you sat there, the look on your face showed the hopelessness you were feeling. He knew what you were about to say, Ghost could see it in your eyes, and he was exhausted.
His patience wore thin, and he snapped, his voice raised and sharp. "Damn it y/n, not this again! How many times do I have to tell you, the answer is no!" he snapped, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not ready to retire, and I've explained this to you countless times."
His outburst was jarring, and you weren't used to seeing Ghost like this. He had always been the calm and collected one, but now he was angry and frustrated. His voice carried the weight of his decision.
"Simon. I want a family, a home. I need something more than this. I've been asking you for years, and I thought maybe—" he cut you off, his voice raising.
"You thought maybe what? That this time I'd change my mind? After everything we've been through?"
His frustration became evident. His normally stoic expression twisted into one of anger and exasperation. He'd had enough of the repeated requests and the agony of constantly having to deny them.
"I just thought—"
"Well, don't! I don't want to retire, and that's final.”
"But I thought we could finally start a family and—"
"No! I've told you, I'm not ready for that, and I don't want to talk about it anymore. I've got a job to do, and I'm going to do it."
You were about to speak again, he cut you off with a yell, "Enough! I've had enough of this conversation. When I come back from my next mission in two days, I want you to stop bringing this up. This is the last time we're going to have this conversation."
He turned away from you and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there tears streaming down your face. Your heart ached, and you knew that this was a battle you were never going to win.
Ghost was determined to keep living the life he had chosen, and you were left with the painful realization that the future you had always dreamed of with him was never going to come.
As soon as Ghost left on his mission, you knew you had to tell Price about your pregnancy and your decision to retire. Price offered his congratulations, assuming that Ghost would retire too. However, you explained the situation, revealing that Ghost didn't know about your pregnancy, and you didn't want Price to be the one to tell him.
Price took a deep breath, his brow furrowing as he processed the information. "Why didn't you tell him you were pregnant? I'm sure he would have retired if he knew," concern evident in his voice. You looked from Price down to your hands, your expression heavy with emotions.
"I wanted him to retire for me," you admitted, your voice soft and filled with vulnerability. "I wanted to be enough for him to want to leave all of this behind."
Price nodded and got up from his chair, walking over to you and bringing you into a comforting hug. Your arms wrapped around him, and as the tears began to flow, you found solace in his support.
"I promise I'll keep your secret. I won't tell him," Price assured you as he held you close. You sniffled against his chest and managed to choke out a heartfelt thank you.
The rest of the day was spent packing your belongings. You didn't have much to take with you, mainly cargo pants, plain t-shirts, and a few off-duty clothes. You were planning to donate most of them.
The only sentimental items you packed were your favorite mug and a few personal belongings. You left behind everything that had to do with Ghost in a small box, including photos, his old dog tags, plushies, and matching bracelets. The box sat on the small dining room table with a note on top of it.
In the note, you explained that it was indeed the last time you guys would ever have that conversation. He was either going to retire or you were going to leave. His decision was final and so was yours, you couldn't wait any longer.
You told him that you were starting the life you had always begged him for, and you asked him not to go looking for you. He could live the life he desired, and you would live yours.
As you left the base for the last time and headed to the airport, your heart was a mix of anticipation and nostalgia. You were on a flight back to your home country of Iceland, ready to embark on a new chapter of your life.
You had settled into a cute apartment in Reykjavik, a temporary residence while you figured out where your forever home would be. The view from your apartment window showcased the picturesque landscape.
Your hand gently rested on your stomach. The thought of holding your bundle of joy in your arms brought a radiant smile to your face. It was a promise of a future filled with love and happiness, something you had yearned for for so long.
As you gazed out the window towards the setting sun, the horizon bathed in the soft hues of twilight, you felt a profound sense of contentment and hope. You were finally on the path to having the life you had always dreamt of.
Ghost arrived back on the military base, his fatigue weighing heavily on him after the long and grueling mission. As he made his way down the familiar corridor towards your shared room, a sense of guilt gnawed at his conscience. He loved you, there was no doubt about that, and now the argument he had with you was finally catching up to him.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been too harsh on you. Your desire to settle down and start a family was something that should have brought joy to both of your lives, but he had been stubborn, refusing to hear you out. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had kept you waiting for three long years.
He cursed under his breath, berating himself for being such a terrible boyfriend to you. You had never asked for much, always there for him when he needed you, and he couldn't even hear you out about something that meant the world to you.
Ghost decided that it was time to right his wrongs, to sit down and have a serious conversation with you about retiring. You had sacrificed so much for him during your time together, and now it was his turn to make a sacrifice for you.
As he unlocked the door to your shared room and walked in, ready to call out to you, he was met with a chilling sight. The room was dark and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to its usual warmth and coziness.
Ghost's heart sank, and he slowly moved through the room, calling your name. He went into the bathroom, but you weren't there. He stepped back into the main area and noticed the box on the dining table.
Slowly, he picked up the note, and his eyes moved slowly over the words, each line delivering a devastating blow to his heart. It was your handwriting, and the words were filled with finality.
With a heavy heart, he slumped into a chair, reading the note a second and third time. He didn't want to believe the words he was reading, but the truth was inescapable. Regret washed over him like a tidal wave, and his heart ached as he realized the gravity of his mistakes.
He hadn't taken you seriously, and now he had lost the love of his life because of his stubbornness and blindness to your needs. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sat in the darkness of the room that once represented your shared life, reflecting on the choices he could have made differently. If only he had realized sooner.
6 years later...
After a tip from Laswell, Ghost had spent six long years searching the streets of Iceland, ignoring your plea for him not to look for you. He was determined to speak with you, to make things right, even though he knew it was a long shot. He had realized too late the mistakes he had made, and now he was left with a deep regret that gnawed at his soul.
As he wandered the streets, it was as if he was retracing his own regrets, his footsteps echoing the path he should have taken years ago. And then, one fateful day, as he strolled down a street next to a park, his heart dropped.
His eyes found you, disbelief washing over him as he watched a man lean down and kiss your cheek. Your laughter rang in his ears, and his gaze fell on the toddler hugging your leg. A stroller stood nearby, a baby no more than a year old wrapped in a blanket.
Ghost took a step back, disbelief battling within him. But he immediately stopped when he saw you laugh and draw the man in for a kiss. That's when he saw it – the glimmering diamond ring on your finger.
His eyes shifted to the boy who ran out from behind a bush. The child had dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, a stark contrast to the toddler and the man with black hair and blue eyes.
His world came crashing down as he realized the truth. You had been pregnant when you left him, and that was his son. The pieces finally fell into place, and his past words haunted him.
All the times he had ignored your pleas, all the times he had put his career before you, played in his mind over and over again. He watched you and the family you had built without him, the family you had always begged him for.
In that moment, he couldn't help but envision a different life. He could have been the one standing beside you, laughing as you played with your kids. It was a life he could have had, a life he had always wanted, but his attachment to the military had led him away from it.
Ghost took a step back and, with one last look at the son he never knew, and at you, your wide smile etching a permanent place in his memory, he turned away and began to walk away.
You deserved this happiness, the family you had always yearned for, even if it wasn't with him. He knew he could only blame himself for the way things had ended. If only he had acted differently, if only he had put your feelings first, things might have been different.
After that day, he stopped coming to Iceland, letting you have the peaceful life you had always wanted, while he returned to the life that had torn you apart.
He could only blame himself, and he would carry the weight of that regret for as long as he lived, knowing that he had let a life with you slip through his fingers.
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may i ask stalker!simon taking advantage of his sweetheart with a gun? 👀
Stalker!Simon, hmmmmm :)
Surprise Visit
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Pairing: Stalker!Ghost x reader
Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, stalking, gun, obsession, rough oral sex, blowjob, face fucking, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k
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You’ve walked this path multiple times, every night and every morning, over and over again. You knew this path like the palm of your hand, having taken it all your life. Granted, you had changed street from time to time for a change of normalcy, but it was always the same block or side of the city you took to get to and fro work and home. You were comfortable with your little life, slightly bored by how inactive you were, but you wouldn’t trade it for any kind of trouble.
So it was a surprise - was it truly? You’d grown so comfortable that you stopped keeping your guard up - when you were toughly pushed into your apartment the moment your locked clicked open. You tumbled in, eyes widened and ready to scream out for help, when the man covered your mouth, pressing his weight on yours. You shook, fearfully breathing through your nose as the door closed behind you, your only escape blocked by a heavy mass over you, hand clamped around your cheeks and holding you down. 
You hear him shush you, a deep, baritone voice that cooed at your teary eyes, his small praises at your frightful expression. His words dripped with adoration, a sickly and dark affection that made your skin crawl. You should have looked before opening your door. You should have been more caution in a world where both men and women prowled to attack one another, those disgusting and desperate ones that would do anything to get a taste. If he wanted money, you’d give it all to him, you valued your life more than—
“Stay quiet for me, love, ” he rasped, his hot breath hitting your ear, feeling your side before he slipped a hand under his jacket, “Behave, yeah?”
He pulled a gun, the dreadful click of the safety acting as a warning to you, a deterrent to stop you from acting out —from misbehaving. He cocked his gun rather than repeating his words and you nodded hastily, or as best as you could with his bruising grip on your face. He turned you around and peered down at you from his crooked nose, his dark chocolate eyes seemed almost black, a devouring pit that drew your eyes to his. Gun pointed at your head, he motioned you to your knees, kneeling between his spread legs, running his other hand through your mess of locks. 
“Good girl, ” he groaned, pulling you to face his growing bulge, his cock tenting the seams of his pants. He ground against your lips, rutting your face with low huffs and pants, hissing when your nose nudged it, “Pull my cock out.”
You swallowed down your hesitance when you caught the red gleam in his eyes, shaky hands palming his jeans for the zipper, pulling his pants down his hips and watched the wet patch growing on his grey briefs. He grunted at your slow pace, impatiently pressing the muzzle to your temple and only loosening his hold on your hair when he cock bounced out, the heaviness of it making his length hang between his thighs. 
“Suck.”
Having no choice, you licked your dried lips to ease your anxiety, wrapping them around his leaky tip and running your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty tang of his pre. Your stomach rolled in disgust, the threat of food and stomach acid running up your throat screaming louder in your mind. Willing yourself to finish this quickly, hoping he’d leave after you gave
 gave him a blowjob, you sunk further down his length. Staring up at his masked face, locked between his legs with his skull-painted mask and dangerous eyes.
He was thick and veiny, the burn of it’s throb churning your stomach as you took in more and more until you almost choked. He huffed at your inability to take more than half of him, narrowing his eyes at the tears running down your cheeks when he abruptly thrust down your throat, head thrown back at your choke, throat swallowing around his twitching head. 
“Fuck, ” a low moan slipped from his tongue, his hips moving back and forth, taking in your desperate cries and gagging while he took from you, “Always knew you had a hot mouth. Bloody tight.”
You could hardly breathe with the rough drive of his hips, ramming his cock so deeply that you could taste him on the back of your throat and in your guts. You could fight and struggle, but wouldn’t be able to stop him, to escape his treatment or run away when he had a hard grip on your head, a gun in his hand and blocked the door. All you could do was cry and take it, appease him in hopes that he wouldn’t kill you if he was satisfied.
And it seemed he was, taking such a liking to your tear-streaked face, swollen lips wrapped around the girth of his cock and nose buried in his messy bush while he took and took, bartering your throat until it’d bruised. He came down your throats with a few more thrusts, staring you down his nose while he slipped as deep as he could. You choked on his heady cum, roped spurting from the tip and filled your stomach with an uncomfortable amount, it was hot and bitter, and there were so, so much that it spilled from your lips, dripping down your chin and staining jeans. 
You gasped when he pulled out, somewhat happy that you had swallowed his cum. You cough and sputtered, folded at his feet as you sobbed, babbling pleas to be let off now that you’d fulfilled his sick fantasy. He only crouched down, running his hands through your hair like he wanted to comfort you, tenderly petting you for the favour you did.
“You did good, love, ” he praised, a chuckle rumbling off his shoulder, proud and gleeful. He even put his gun away, “This stays between us, understood? You can keep our little secret, yeah, sweetheart?”
“Y-yes, ” you rasped, signing your soul away to the devil in a balaclava.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce
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For fuck's sake, she's so childish 🙄🙄
Winter's King 9
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: I can't explain why but damn I'm so tiredddd.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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As you approach the capital, you can’t help but poke your head up to admire the domes of the great castle and the high towers. The gates stand open as the party advances, in wait of their new liege and lord. You shield your eyes against the sun as you gaze at the silhouette of the mighty architecture. 
“May as well get a good gander,” Bryce says, “doubt the kitchens are any more glorious than the ones you know.” 
“Mm,” you retract your gaze and sigh, “suppose. But they will still be new to me.” 
“Not all that is new is wondrous,” he girds. “For as much as I’ve seen in this world, it is the familiar that keeps me sane.” 
You nod and let the cart rock you. Ahead of you, the horses tread over rocks and dirt, wagons bounce and creak, and some servants walk afoot to ease the cramps in their legs. You lean lazily on a chest and fold your hands in your lap. It will at least be nice to stay beneath a proper roof again. 
The streets of the city are crowded with faces. They do not holler for you but you can hear the raucous uproar ahead as the king and queen ride between the citizens. There are even more black and grey soldiers stationed along the roads, awaiting your arrival. 
As you wind up to the royal castle, the noise grows tantamount. At the walls of the grand structure, clusters of people threaten to crush the party between their writhing bodies. It takes some time after the king’s entrance for the luggage to make way into the courtyard. 
The carts depart around the back of the castle as the horses make way for the stables. You climb out as Bryce lurks around, dismounting Daisy with a grunt as he rubs his lower back. You glance over at him as the other servants quickly fall into work. 
“Maid,” he calls to you before you can follow suit, “no doubt the queen will need to wash away the road before she faces the hordes.” 
He beckons you forth with his gauntlet and you diligently near him. He hands off Daisy to a castle servant and carries on inside. You scurry beside him as he stops and gauges his surroundings. He is not versed with the corridors but he presses on unimpeded. 
You turn back a few times before you reach the great hall. It is crowded and chaotic. The soldier strides through without pause. You nearly grab onto him just to keep from being lost in the stirring of soldiers and servants, and the tittering lords and ladies in their colourful garb. 
Up the stairs and a few questions grunted to his comrades, Bryce takes you down to a set of chambers with yet another soldier before it. You’re let inside without question. You find Queen Jazlene before a steaming basin as another servant cleans her face. 
The queen scrunches up her nose and swats the lady servant, the maid still in the former king’s colours; burnt autumn orange and goldenrod yellow. 
“Watch my eyes, you moron,” Jazlene chides and jabs her nail into the maid’s ribs. 
“My lady, I didn’t mean--” 
“I am a queen, not a lady,” Jazlene hisses, “be gone before I have your teeth knocked out of that stupid mouth of yours.” 
The other maid wrings the cloth and steps back on her heel, chewing on an apology before she spins to flee. As she nears the door, she notices you and gives a panicked look. You reach to take the cloth from her before you go to the queen. 
“Your highness,” you greet her and dip the cloth back in the steaming water. “Would you like me to put ribbons in your hair?” 
“Mm, I suppose,” she tilts her face up and closes her eyes, “once the dirt is gone. By gods, I hate traveling.” 
You gently wipe along her hairline and trace the outline of her face. You delicately but intently clean away the errant dust and streaks. You drape the cloth over the brim of the basin and turn to the table. 
“And would you like your lips painted?” You intone. “Your highness, I do think your natural tones are beautiful.” 
As you peek back at her, her eyes open and she stares at you. Her nostrils compress as she inhales. She puts her head straight and looks at her reflection. 
“Do you think so?” She touches her cheeks. 
“Yes, I do, if you line your eyes, they might appear bigger but they are so lovely and dark already,” you compliment. 
She hums and tilts her head, turning her attention back on you, “it’s you.” 
You lower your head, “your highness?” 
“You’re always flitting around like some bird,” she sniffs, “suppose you are not so... agitating as the other. Yes, ribbons and some kohl. Then I will have one of the former queen’s gowns. They have delivered her wardrobe to me.” 
“Yes, your highness,” you say and go to work. 
You settle into your usual lull. The queen sips from her goblet as you twine ribbons with her curls, a halo around the crown of her head as coiling strands hang down to her back. She looks even more immaculate than you’ve seen her before. 
She calls for a dress and you bring her several options from those strewn across the large bed. She chooses the lavender and you help her into the light silk. You relace it to account for her lither figure, the former queen having some extra years in her hips. 
When she is dressed, she twirls before the mirror. She stops and sets her chin straight and glares at herself. She arches a brow coyly. 
“I cannot wait to see Lady Florence,” she scoffs, “she will choke when she realises I am her queen.” 
You linger by the wall, blending into the tapestry as she sighs and eyes the glass affectionately. She primps herself and spins again. 
“Well then, I must be overdue,” she goes to the door, “I must go to the king and show him I can be his queen.” 
You open the door for her and follow her out. The soldiers outside glance at her but do not move or speak. Bryce comes up beside you as you trail after Jazlene. She struts to the end of the corridor and is stopped by another guard at another door. 
“Do not think to stop me,” she spits, “I am the queen,” she flicks her fingers in his direction, “don’t be absurd.” 
The man lets her through as she tugs on the latch and his dull eyes stare past her. She hardly has the effect she thinks. People do not admire her so much as they tolerate her. 
She sweeps into the chamber as you wait outside. Bryce lets out a gritty breath and taps his fingers on his sword pommel. He chews more of the sweet leaves he loves so much. Jazlene emerges with a doe-like look. 
“Where is the king?” She exclaims. 
“He has gone to address the people,” the guard picks at his teeth. “He tired of waiting--” 
“Do not tell me about the king,” Jazlene snaps on the soldier, “ugh, let us find my husband. How can he think to face my people without me at his side?” 
She storms onward and you can only follow. She will no doubt need wine sooner than later, though you wish she might take more water or milk instead. Bryce keeps your pace slowed as he makes little haste. 
As she descends the steps, you can hear the king’s voice. The crowd is hushed, almost hypnotised as he speaks from atop a chair. Somehow, he is both overwhelming and unassuming. Jazlene shows as she sees him. The crowd does not move out of her way as they are rapt in his words. 
“...do not come as conquerer, but as liberator,” he declares, “I am not here to suppress but to unite. Our kingdoms, forged together as one, can attain glory. Peace. Joy. Our people needn’t suffer the droughts or frost rot without relief. By coming together, we will join summer and winter in harmony,” the king holds his sword, the tip on the armrest of the wooden chair, “to you lords who stayed loyal to Waleran, I do not seek retribution. You only did your duty and served the king you put an oath to. You had no part in his violations upon myself. I am aware you could not rein in your greedy master. You will keep what is yours, as by rights, but you will swear fealty to the new crown.” 
King Geralt looks around the hall, “I have spoken to the farmers and the peasants, I have seen the beauty of your lands. I wish not to ravage it but to build it. You will not have only from me writs and declarations, you will have fields sown, you will have harvests reaped, you will have coin in flow, and you will have full bellies.” 
He raises his great sword over his head. The large weapon could be held only by two-hands in anothers grasp but he lifts it effortlessly. 
“I saw how your king tucked tail when he saw me on the field. After you good lords followed him to battle and sacrificed your men and your blood. He could not stand and fight, but many of you did, many of you not here today. I will not let their souls be spent in vain,” he pauses and his golden eyes rove around the room. He points his sword suddenly towards you but not quite, at Jazlene, “I have taken a summer wife.” He curls his fingers to gesture her to him. People swivel to see her and clear the path to the king, “a winter’s king must have a summer’s queen, if our kingdoms our to rise anew.” 
Jazlene sways before she gets her footing. She moves forward, chin high as she lets a grin break out over her face. She looks this way and that, gloating as she goes to her husband. He steps down as she approaches and he takes her hand. He helps her up on the chair herself and she seems almost confused by the act. 
“Queen Jazlene of Debray,” King Geralt proclaims, “she will return with me to the Hinterlands to see that order is kept across our realm and perhaps, the next time I look upon you all, I will have an heir to present to you. A young prince to lead us into the sun ahead.” 
He raises Jazlene’s hand as she fawns. The crowd breaks out in racket, voices swelling to the rooves as you’re jostled against Bryce. The lords and ladies, servants and soldiers, throw up fists and hoot and holler. 
The king brings his sword up again, silence falling at the gleam of its silver blade, “but first, a feast!” 
The fervour is even louder as the hall explodes in glee. You hear it ripple out the doors into the crowd without and like an ocean, the tides carry through the courtyard and front gates, streaming into the city. Peace has come and old grudges cannot take the shine from the gift of a king’s mercy. 
⚔
“Your highness, we heard of what happened on Stag’s River,” an earl, you think he said his name was Kelvan, “it was a brave stand. Admirable, even standing upon the other ridge.” 
“You were there?” King Geralt muses, “mm, how fortunate our paths did not cross.” 
“Indeed, your highness,” the earl agrees, “I must admit, I dreaded it.” 
“But here we are, alive, together, as allies. It is all I ever wanted.” 
“And we knew it. We knew it, my liege, for when you let our men march back at all, we saw your grace,” Kelvan smiles. 
“Yes, but I have only ever admired your lands, never had I wanted to ruin them,” the king assures as he looks over at his wife. 
“He is a brave and good king,” Queen Jazlene praises as she puts her hand over the king’s. 
Lord Kelvan’s lips ripple, “mm, yes, I have not seen your father yet. If I shan’t happen upon the Duke, you will send my regards.” 
There’s an edge that makes you uneasy. You see how Jazlene bobs her head, “so I shall.” 
She doesn’t seem to notice the tick of resent in the earl’s cheek. How odd it is that they are so fond of the invader and yet their own kith and kin, they cannot help but revile. You’ve heard the whispers swirling already. It was not King Geralt who betrayed these people but this snakish woman and her blood. 
“Wine, girl, now,” Jazlene snaps as the early departs back to his seat. 
You stand against the wall, just behind the bench she shares with the king. You come forward with the jug reserved only for her, nearing between the shoulders of the royal couple. Before you can put the spout to brim, King Geralt’s hand catches the swollen belly of the ewer. 
“Perhaps you might have some more lamb before you indulge further, wife,” he girds. 
“It is a feast,” she slurs, “I am only celebrating. With you,” she touches his sleeve, “my king.” 
“I see that,” his voice is low but firm, “yet you are a queen and your subjects are watching.” 
“I can stomach my wine,” she sneers. 
He huffs and wraps his hand around the bottom of the handle, just below your grip. He wiggles it away from you and sets it on the other side of his plate. Jazlene lets out a childish gasp. 
“It is just wine,” she snivels. 
King Geralt runs his fingers along his collar, “we are having a good night,” he says as he peers out on the crowd, “please, let us not make a scene.” 
“I am not making a scene. I am the queen and I want more wine,” she insists. 
He faces forward completely. You stay as you are, trapped in their indecision. He blocks the jug with his elbow and she claps her hands on her lap and kicks her feet.  
“Perhaps you should have some of that wine,” she mutters, “it might make you kinder.” 
The king doesn’t reply and instead greets another lord; one who introduces himself as the Count of Bress. As they speak, Jazlene leans back on the bench and tugs your skirt. You look down at her. 
“Find more wine,” she growls, “and don’t be obvious about it.” 
“Your highness, but the king--” 
“I am your master, not him,” she snarls and nudges you harshly, “be away before I lose my patience.” 
You dip your head and notice how the king’s head turns towards his wife. You don’t look back as you critter off quickly into the shadows. You might be better to take your time and tell her you could not abscond any more wine. If you wait long enough, it might even slip her mind, as so often her desires fade into the next. 
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ENDGAME STEVE: Clean-shaven + long hair.
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Cherry 🍒
S7 Negan x Virgin Female Reader
Summary: You sneak into Negan’s bed in the middle of the night and seduce him into ‘popping your cherry.’
Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is mid 40's), unprotected sex, Negan taking your virginity & being sweet with you, mentions of family death, bleeding during sex, oral (both receiving), sitting on Negan’s face, breeding
Note: this is pure filth. If you’re uncomfortable with extreme age-gaps, please don’t read.
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You shivered as your bare feet quietly shuffled down the cold hallway, stopping right outside the leader's bedroom door. The sounds of Negan's light snoring filtered through the cracks as you softly pushed the door open, pleased to find it unlocked. You tiptoed your way over to the empty side of his bed before sliding underneath his soft white sheets and inhaling the unique scent of him - leather and fresh linen.
You've always felt comfortable with him. Negan welcomed you to the sanctuary with open arms about a year ago when you were seventeen, after your father passed away. His men found you walking along the road one day and brought you back to Negan, who immediately took you under his wing and made you feel safe for the first time since your father died.
You're not like his wives. More like the daughter he never had and he's made that boundary crystal clear on more than one occasion. You've made several subtle advances towards Negan in the past.. All of which he has politely rejected by changing the subject or blatantly ignoring you.
Still, this doesn't stop you from quietly moaning his name when you touch yourself at night.
"Negan.." You whispered cautiously as you snuggled into the sheets. This wasn't the first time you crawled into his bed at night, feeding him lies about nightmares you never even had. However, this time.. you were determined to get what you wanted.
During your recent previous attempts, you'd remain on your side of the bed and Negan wouldn't even know you were there usually until the next morning - lecturing you when you woke up about how sneaking into his bed is inappropriate. You hated when he used that word. Like a strict school teacher.
A few moments of silence passed until you boldly shuffled closer to him, wrapping your hand around his arm and snuggling your face into his bicep. You breathed in the intoxicating aroma of his soft skin as your legs delicately pressed into his underneath the blanket.
"The hell are you doin' y/n?" He asked, his sleepy voice deeper and raspier than usual and it made your heart flutter.
"Can't sleep."
"I think we both know you're lyin', doll. You know you can't stay in here. We've had this discussion. It's ina-"
"Yeah yeah I know. Inappropriate, geez." You interrupted him, rolling your eyes in the dark.
"Exactly, so why are you in my bed?"
"My.. dreams. They keep waking me up."
"Nightmares again?" He asked, using a softer tone this time.
"No.. no nightmares this time. Just.. dreams."
Negan shifted uncomfortably next to you, scooting up a little in the bed and wrapping his arm around you in the process. "What kinda dreams, doll?"
You snuggled into the nook of his armpit, getting practically drunk off his manly smell as your hand carelessly glided over his shirtless, hairy torso until settling on his lower abdomen.
Without missing a beat, Negan placed his hand over yours, moving it higher on his torso. "Y/n.." He said like a warning, sternness dripping from his tone.
You ignored him, refocusing your attention back to his previous question. "I dunno.. they're just.. like.. sexual dreams, and then I wake up and I'm all frustrated because I don't know what I'm doing-"
"Stop." He sighed with frustration, running a hand down his face. "Fucking christ, y/n. You cannot say shit like that in front of me."
"Why not? It's not like you're my daddy or anything." You teased him, sliding your hand to his lower stomach once again. You almost whimpered when your fingertips brushed over the soft curls peaking out of the waistband of his boxers and your stomach fluttered when he didn't stop you this time.
He let out a long sigh, glancing down to your hand that teased the sensitive skin under his waistband. "Baby...fuck. We can't." He said almost painfully.
"Okay.. I get it." You said defeatedly, removing your hand and shifting to turn over before he stopped you, pulling you back in.
He sighed, like he was about to regret asking you this. "What happens.. in your dreams?"
With the moonlight beaming through the window, you managed to catch a glimpse of the lust that flickered in his gaze before his hazel eyes dropped to your lips.
"You treat me different.. like.. one of your wives."
"Yeah? And how's that, baby?" He asked curiously as his lips hovered next to yours.
"You.. kiss them." You stated hesitantly, hoping it was dark enough in the room that he couldn't see your cheeks burning red.
"Oh? Are you jealous, doll?"
"...a little." You admitted, making him chuckle.
He tilted your chin up, lightly gripping your jawline as his eyes dropped to your lips. He stared at them as if he was contemplating if he should give you what you want.
"One kiss, y/n." He said, closing the gap between you and pressing his soft lips to yours. You whimpered into his mouth, earning a slight smirk from him as he pushed his talented tongue past your lips. You couldn't believe you were finally tasting him and you savored every second of it.
He kissed you until your lips were sore, tangling his fingers through your hair and groaning every now and then, making your panties soaked.
You slid your leg over his until his muscular thigh was pressed right up against your aching center and you couldn't help but grind against it, desperate for some friction.
"Y/n." He warned, knowing what you were doing beneath the covers.
"Please, Negan."
His solid erection pressed into your stomach each time you moved your body against his and you imagined the way it would feel inside of you.
“Please what?” He said in between kisses, allowing you to use his thigh to get yourself off.
“Please let me come."
"I'm not touching you, y/n. But I can't stop you from coming."
And that was all the permission you needed to grind against him harder and bring yourself to an orgasm just from humping his thigh.
You buried your face against his neck and rode out your high, whining and whimpering as you soaked through your panties. "Oh my god, oh my god, Negannnn."
"Satisfied now, doll?" He chuckled.
"No.. I need this." You said, pressing your palm against the hard bulge in his boxers. "Please."
"You don't know what you're asking for, sweetheart."
"I do, Negan. I know exactly what I want.. And I've wanted you for so long." You kissed his neck as you rubbed his cock through the material. "I see the way you look at me. I know you want me too."
He sighed, accepting that you were right. "Maybe. But we can't always get what we want, doll."
You grinned, taking that as a challenge as you slid lower beneath the blanket, kissing his chest. "Why not?"
"Baby.."
"If you tell me to stop, I'll stop." You said, wanting to earn his consent before climbing over his legs and settling in between them. He sighed again, turning all the way over on his back to allow you better access.
You licked a line from the bottom of the trail of hair that led up to his belly button, earning a moan from him as he slightly lifted his hips in response. "Baby, you don't have to-"
"You said you wouldn't touch me, but you didn't say I couldn't touch you." You explained, pulling his boxers down slowly. You watched closely as his cock sprung free, and your mouth practically watered at the sight of it. You wondered how you'd fit it in your mouth, much less your pussy.
"It's so.. big.." You said, wrapping your hand around it. Your mouth fell slightly open at the velvety feeling of it as you stroked it up and down in your palm.
Negan was propped up on his elbows as he watched you through heavy, lust-filled eyelids. For once, he was speechless, waiting for your next move.
You lowered your head, taking the tip of him into your mouth and wrapping your lips around it softly. You sucked on just the tip as you looked up at him through your brows and watched his head fall back while the prominent vein in his neck bulged against his skin. Lowering yourself deeper, he let out a long groan when he felt himself in the back of your throat.
"Fuuuuuck, baby. Feels so fuckin' good."
You bobbed your head up and down on him until your jaw ached, wanting to make him proud. Finally, he pulled your head off of his length, and you watched as the precum leaked from his red, swollen tip. His breaths were heavy as he looked down at you. "Fuck, that's enough. You're gonna make me come, sweetheart.
"I want to taste you, Negan.. please?" You begged, looking up at him innocently.
"Yeah? You want me to come in your mouth?"
You nodded as wrapped your lips around his thick length again, tasting the bead of salty precum. You moaned at the new taste, sucking firmly over and over until you felt more of his warm liquid spurt out, coating the back of your throat. You moaned around him again, not taking your mouth off of his cock until you swallowed every drop.
Sweat ran down the side of his face and his chest rose and fell heavily as he watched you. "Goddamn. What happened to my sweet, innocent girl, huh? When did you learn to suck cock like that?"
"Just now. That was my first time." You shrugged, shuffling up his body until your legs straddled his waist and you pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor and exposing your perky, bare breasts to him.
You pinched your own nipples teasingly as you bit you lip and stared down at him.
"Fuck, you are so beautiful.” He said, watching you play with your nipples.
"You don't wanna touch?" You pouted, sticking out your bottom lip.
"Of course I wanna fuckin' touch you, y/n. You have no idea. I wanna touch every inch of you." He sighed, leaning up on his elbows again until his face was inches away from your chest. "But, I can't."
"Then don't use your hands.. lick me instead." You insisted.
He looked up at you through his brows before his gaze returned to your breasts. You leaned forward, brushing your nipple against his beard until it hardened even more. When it brushed his lips, he instantly took it into his mouth and groaned, sucking it gently. After a few moments, he switched to the other one, flicking his tongue against it. Your head fell back while your fingers intertwined in his slick, black hair.
"Negannn." You breathed out, and he finally pulled away.
"Take those panties off and sit on my fucking face. Now." He demanded, laying flat on his back.
You eagerly obeyed him, quickly removing your panties and climbing over his face before lowering yourself down slowly. You hovered over him lightly, not wanting to press all the way down until his hands roughly pulled you closer.
"I said, sit." He said before burying his face in your cunt. The tip of his nose pressed against your clit as his tongue devoured your dripping hole and he moaned with approval.
You lifted slightly, being too sensitive too his touch, but he leaned forward, taking your clit between his lips and sucking. You cried out as your orgasm instantly rushed through you and you soaked his face. You came hard and fast, but he didn't mind as he moaned loudly, lapping up your juices. You tried to climb off of him, but he held you in place, still licking you like his life depended on it.
"Negan.." You blushed.
"Hm?"
"That's enough." You giggled.
"I'll never get enough of this sweet pussy, doll. You wanted me, now you've fuckin' got me."
His words made the butterflies somersault in your chest. You hoped he meant it. You hoped he loved you the way you loved him.
"Lay down for me." He said, finally letting you climb off of him.
You did as he said, getting comfortable on your back as he crawled over you and settled between your legs. Looking down, you noticed he was rock hard again and he rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly in between your wet folds.
"Negan.. I need to tell you something."
"Hm? What is it, doll?" He asked, leaning over you and holding himself up with his palms on either side of your head on the mattress.
"I-I've never done this before."
He smirked, looking into your eyes. "I know."
"What do you mean you know?"
"I hear everything in this place, y/n. I've heard you talking about me to your friends." He pressed his lips to yours before looking at you again. "I've heard you moaning my name at night in your bed while you touch that pretty pussy. I know everything about you, doll. I pay attention, even when you think I'm not."
You blushed at his words as you stared up at him speechless, making his smile widen. "So adorable when you're embarrassed."
He kissed you again, so hard that it took your breath away and in that moment, you knew you were head over heels in love with this man. You just wondered if he felt the same.
“What else happens in your dreams, baby? Do you let me fuck this little pussy?” He whispered in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine.
“Y-yes.” You managed to choke out, making him chuckle.
He leaned back up, placing one of your legs over his shoulder as the other fell open for him.
“You ready for me to break you in, sweetheart? Pop that sweet little cherry?”
"Fuck, yes. Please." You whined, scooting closer to him until the tip of his cock brushed against your sex.
Negan chuckled lowly, pressing the head of his cock right against your hole. He watched you intensely as he pushed just the tip in, stopping before he went any further.
“You good, baby?” He asked, making sure you were good to continue. Once you nodded, he slid slightly deeper, feeling resistance before pushing through with a force.
You cried out at the sudden ripping sensation, making him stop again.
“No.. keep going.” You urged him, already aching from how he was stretching you, but you needed him to fill you completely. So he did, pushing himself all the way in with one swift thrust.
Your mouth fell open silently as he pressed against your cervix and let out a growl.
He fell over you again, kissing your lips as he thrusted into you at a steady pace. “You did it, baby.” He praised you softly. “I am so fuckin proud of you.”
He moved slowly, making you deliberately feel every inch of him. He repeated this motion until your face was on fire and your lower abdomen tingled.
"Fuck, y/n. You are so fucking tight." He said through gritted teeth, looking down between the two of you as he leaned back up on his knees.
"Oh fuuck, look. at. that, doll."
You leaned up on your elbows, looking down and widening your eyes when Negan pulled out of you, revealing his blood covered cock.
His thumb reached down to swipe a trail of your blood off his dick before bringing it to this mouth. You watched him enamored as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the taste of you and he moaned with satisfaction. You blushed hard at the sight of Negan tasting your blood.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Negan.” You answered without question, following it with a moan as he pushed back into you without warning.
“That’s right, doll. This pussy? Is mine now. Understood?”
“Y-yes sir.” You cried, as he pumped into you faster.
"Ow. Ow, fuck. It hurts."
“I know baby. I know. You want me to stop?”
“No.” You said quickly. “Please don’t stop. I want it harder.”
He smiled down at you proudly as his hips bucked into you harder and your eyes clenched shut as your fingers gripped the sheets.
Looking down between the two of you again, he groaned at the sight of your blood completely coating his cock and leaking out of you with each thrust.
You whined and whimpered, desperately wanting to come again. He grinned knowingly, pressing his thumb to your clit and making your body shutter. "You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?"
You nodded as tears flooded your eyes and his finger started working over your clit more intensely.
"Yes, yes. Please make me come."
He fucked you fast and rubbed your clit in perfect circles, watching you come undone around him. Once your walls were done convulsing around him, he fell over you again, kissing your neck and groaning in your ear. "That's it. That's my good girl."
Wet noises filled the air as he fucked you unforgivably hard. "You gonna let me cum in this pussy, baby?" He asked, biting your earlobe.
You couldn't speak, so you nodded as your vision went cloudy and his thrusts became more erratic until he stopped suddenly, pushing himself balls deep inside of you as his dick pumped you full of cum and he growled in your ear.
"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, baby." His thrusts started again, soft and light this time as he pushed his seed deeper inside of you. He kissed your jawline, then your lips, before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.
"Y/n... I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. And goddamn I love this pussy."
#holy fucking shit#yes#just
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I’ve never seen someone write a Negan fic that included some Simon haha.
Idk why but Simon just- big psycho hottie energy, and I’d love a fic w some sort of Simon involvement. Even if Simon was just watching reader w Negan or degrading reader or something idk.
You know what I mean. Anywho! Enjoy my depraved thoughts haha
Hello my lovely. This one was fun. :)
Two in One
Negan x Reader x Simon (threesome)
Warnings: 18+, all smut no plot, threesome, simon and negan being extremely dominant and degrading with you, spitting, choking, double penetration, unprotected sex, anal, slight daddy kink, cum play
Note: I wrote this super quick so I'm sorry if it's not the greatest. It's just pure filth honestly.
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"Oh fuuuck!" You cry out as Negan pounds into you from behind.
You barely even notice the knock on Negan's bedroom door before Negan calls out annoyed. "Yeah?!"
"Got a situation, boss." Simon says, opening the door and walking in before looking up and stopping at the sight of you bent over taking Negan's cock.
Negan continues thrusting into you as he looks to Simon. "Seriously man? Little fuckin' busy here." He says unsteadily.
"I see that." Simon's eyebrows raise as he studies you. You stare back at him, resting the side of your reddened face on the bed as Negan rails you relentlessly.
You whimper with your eyes locked on Simon, deliberately putting on a show for him. The idea of someone watching you has always turned you on, and you secretly hope Negan let's him stay.
As if reading your mind, Negan motions with his gloved hand for Simon to come closer to the bed. "What's the situation?" He asks out of breath before sliding his hand across your ass and squeezing firmly.
Simon glances to you hesitantly before speaking, letting Negan know what's going on inside the walls of the sanctuary. But you're too focused on what's going on inside the walls of your cunt to notice what they're yapping about. Frustrated with their endless conversation, you slam your ass into Negan's hips repeatedly, meeting his hard thrusts as you moan loud and purposely.
"Goddamn it." Negan grunts, cutting Simon off mid sentence before pulling you up by your hair until your back is pressed against his chest. Your head leans back on his shoulder as your eyes connect with Simon's. "Can't even fuckin' hear him over all the goddamn noise you're making, sweetheart. Does daddy make you feel that good or do you just like an audience?" His hand reaches up to wrap around your throat as his dick glides in and out of you at a steady pace.
"Both" Your whine out, struggling against the restriction of his hand around your neck.
Simon's eyes roam down your naked torso, stopping at the intersection of your pussy and Negan's dick pumping inside you. The fact that Negan is openly fucking you in front of Simon makes you even hotter and can't deny.. you love being watched.
Negan chuckles before biting his bottom lip and looking at Simon, who's zoned out watching your tits bounce with each thrust.
"Simon, you heard her. My girl wants an audience. Get on the bed and watch how fuckin' good I make her pussy feel." Negan demands, sliding completely out of you before pushing on your back and shoving you down back in your original position. You fall over, catching yourself on your forearms as you settle on your knees and Simon is already in the bed in front of you with his back leaned against the headboard as he stretches his legs out on either side of you, settling in comfortably.
You can't help but notice the large bulge behind his boxers as he proudly flaunts it in your face. If you leaned down further, you could easily suck him off but you wait patiently for Negan's permission.
The bed dips behind you as Negan climbs in on his knees, immediately burying his face in your dripping cunt and eating you like his life depends on it.
You make an o-shape with your mouth at the sudden sensation of Negan's tongue entering you from behind as you lock eyes with Simon.
"One rule." Negan says into your pussy, speaking to you and Simon. "No kissing."
That's all the permission Simon needs before letting his cock spring free from the slit in his boxers and shoving your head down on his cock. "Ahh, fuck." He moans, gripping your hair tightly in his palm.
"She can take it deeper than that. And she likes it fuckin' rough." Negan tells Simon as he finally comes up for air and lines himself up at your entrance, your juices glistening in his stubbly beard.
"Good." Simon answers him before returning his gaze to your mouth wrapped around him. "Cause we are going to ruin you, sweetheart." Without warning, he shoves your head completely down his length and you immediately gag around him but he doesn't let you come up. Instead, he holds your head down until tears fill your eyes and you desperately struggle to breath. Your palms push desperately against his thighs as you fight to come up.
"Don't you dare pass out on us." Simon says, finally letting you come up for air for a moment before repeating the process. You're even more out of breath this time and can feel yourself growing weaker. "Pathetic little slut." He chuckles.
Just when you feel like you might actually pass out, Negan shoves himself deep inside of you, hitting your cervix. Simon finally lets you come up for air and you inhale a deep breath, followed by an embarrassing moan.
"Breathe, baby." Negan says from behind you. "You tell daddy the safe word if it's too much. Understood?"
"Yes sir." You whimper as Negan cock fills your hole and your head drops down. Without missing a beat, Negan reaches forward to wrap his fingers around your hair as he pulls your head up like a puppet. "Let him see your face when I fuck you, baby. Show him how good daddy makes you feel."
Negan pounds into you unforgivably, hitting a spot deeper than you ever thought possible as animalistic sounds flow from his mouth. Seems like you're not the only one who likes extra company in the bedroom.
You moan with him, not taking your eyes off Simon's until your gaze flashes to his mouth, daring him to kiss you. You know it's against Negan's rule, which only makes you want it more. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you boldly lean forward, attempting to press your lips to Simon's but he quickly grabs your throat, stopping you before you reach them.
"Oh you better be fuckin' jokin'." Negan says, his voice dripping with anger as he pulls out of you and roughly flips your body over. You look up at him with innocent eyes as you lay on your back between Simon's legs.
"S-sorry daddy."
"That was a big fuckin' mistake. You know I simply can't let that slide, right?" He asks, leaning over and squeezing his hand around your throat.
"C'mon man." Simon interrupts. "She can't help it.. she's just a desperate little whore. Aren't you sweetheart?" He asks, looking down at you. "You wanna fuckin' taste me? Open up." Simon squeezes your jaw before open before spitting directly into your mouth.
Negan's eyes glaze over with lust and pure darkness, scarier than anything you've seen before. "I think she fuckin' likes it." Negan says, squeezing your throat tighter and leaning directly over you, letting his own saliva drip into your mouth. You moan as your swallow the mix of their spit and they both grin down at you proudly. "Didn't realize what a total slut my wife was.. think you need to be punished." Negan's eyes dart back and forth between yours as he hovers above you. "I am going to fucking break you, sweetheart." He grins devilishly before letting go of your throat and pushing three of his fingers inside of you without giving you time to adjust. You cry out as his digits rip through you before he inserts another.
"Negan... it hurts." You whimper truthfully, but the pain turns you on even more and Negan knows it.
He chuckles as he pushes his hand into you, groaning at how wide he's stretching you. While Negan fists your pussy relentlessly as Simon positions himself on his knees beside you, shoving his cock in your mouth as he roughly turns your head to the side. "Gonna put these holes to use, babygirl." He grunts, filling the back of your throat as you whimper around him and struggle to breathe.
Tears flow from your eyes when Negan's hand pulls out of you and he grabs your throat, pulling you to your knees in front of them. Both men's cocks stand proud and leaking precum right in your face and you practically moan at the sight of them.
Simon's hand grips the back of your hair, angling your head back as you look up at them. Negan wipes the mascara running down your face with his thumb as he smirks. "So pretty like this.. On your knees and ready for us."
You look up at Negan innocently before turning your attention to Simon as he chimes in. "Open that pretty little mouth, sweetheart." He guides his length towards your mouth again and you open, taking him down your throat. Before you can adjust to the size of him again, Negan's thumb hooks on the inside of your cheek, widening your mouth as he shoves his own dick inside. You open wide, allowing them to use your mouth as they sloppily thrust and groan, letting their cocks rub against each other inside your warm, wet mouth.
You moan at the taste of their salty precum dripping down your throat as you reach your hand between your legs and attempt to rub at your clit but Negan stops you, grabbing your wrist and tossing you on your back.
"Wanna watch you ride his cock, baby. Put on a fucking show for me. Make daddy proud." Negan says before kissing your lips and lightly gripping your throat. "But remember who you fucking belong to."
"Y-yes sir."
Simon lays next to you, urging you to climb on top and straddle him and you let him guide you, hovering yourself over his cock while Negan relaxes his back against the headboard, eager to watch you put on a show for him.
You lock eyes with Negan as you slowly slide down on Simon's cock, making a groan fall from Simon's mouth. "Such a tight little cunt."
Negan watches you with glazed eyes as you bounce up and down on Simon. Your eyes drop to his lap, watching his hand stroke his painfully hard cock. "That's it baby. Take his fuckin' cock, you slut." Negan says through his teeth, leaning his head back against the headboard. "That's my dirty little girl."
"Negan.. I want you too."
"Yeah? Beg for my cock baby."
"Please daddy. Please, please. I need you." You whimper.
"Such a desperate whore. One dick isn't enough for you sweetheart?" Simon chuckles underneath you, tightly gripping your hips as you ride him.
Negan moves from his spot to settle in behind you, sliding his tip through your slippery folds before he sinks inside of you. You cry at the ripping sensation in your cunt as your walls are stretched to the limit with both of them inside of you. "Ohh my god. Fuck.. it hurts."
"Feels pretty good if you ask me." Simon says, thrusting up into you.
"Always about you, selfish little girl. I told you.. we are going to use you. You're nothing but a fucking hole to us, doll." Negan says, pulling you against his chest by your throat. You lean your back against his chest as your head rests against his shoulder. You can't deny that his cruel words sting, but the thought of them using you to get off lights a fire inside of you and you completely succumb to them in that moment, willing to let them have their way with you however they please.
Negan's head falls back at the intense pleasure as his cock slides against Simon's inside you. The veins in Simon's neck protrude as you stare down at him. Between Simon's hand squeezing your neck and Negan's animalistic noises filling the air, you feel your walls tighten as your orgasm approaches quickly. "Fuck.. I'm gonna.."
Before you can come, Negan's hand yanks your hair, making your head fall back and a loud moan escape your throat. Negan pulls out of you and you whine from the loss. "Negan.. please.."
"Only way you're allowed to cum is with my dick in your ass. You ready for me baby?"
Your eyes widen as you hesitantly shake your head no. "I - I don't think -"
"Of course you don't, sweetheart." Simon interjects while chuckling from underneath you. "Dumb little slut."
Negan smirks, releasing his grip on your hair and guiding the tip of his cock to your tighter hole, rubbing it teasingly in circles. "You like being treated like a whore, baby? Getting goddamn humiliated?"
When you don't answer, Simon grips your throat again, making you look at him. "He asked you a question, sweetheart."
Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod your head embarrassed.
"Good." Negan says from behind you. "Then I won't feel bad when I do this..." And that's all the warning he gives before spreading your cheeks apart and ramming his cock balls deep inside your ass.
You practically scream as he rips you apart. It hurts.. and the your safe word lingers on your tongue but you bite it back, not wanting them to stop.
Negan pumps into you without giving you time to adjust and you bite down on your lip so hard that you eventually taste blood. Tears pour out of your eyes as both men use your holes to feel good. They moan loudly as you sob, starting to feel your orgasm return.
"Oh my goddddd. Fuuuuuuck." You come embarrassingly hard from the pain and pleasure and their own orgasms come close.
"You want me to fill this ass up with my cum sweetheart?" Negan asks, gritting his teeth.
You nod, still riding out your orgasm as Simon lets out a groan from below you, slowing down his thrusts. The moan that escapes his throat tells you that he's about to come and Negan pulls you off of him quickly, not wanting Simon to come inside you. He lays back on the bed and brings you with him, so that you're in reverse cowgirl position on top of him with his dick still impaling your ass. It's painfully uncomfortable, but turns you on more than you thought possible. You ride Negan's cock as you watch the come shoot from Simon's tip, licking your lips at the sight.
"What are you fucking looking at? Clean me up." Simon says, nodding his head towards the ropes of white cum spread across his stomach as he rises to his knees on the bed in front of you.
You lick a line from his pubes to the top of his stomach as you moan at the salty taste of him. "Maybe you are a good girl after all." He says proudly, looking down at you.
Negan slams your hips down on him, halting suddenly to fill you up. He groans loudly when he shoots inside of you. "Godddddamn, Fuck. Fuck."
You fall to the bed, completely spent and out of breath.
"Well that was fun." Simon says, resting his hands on his hips and looking to Negan. "Same time tomorrow, boss?"
"...Don't fucking push it."
#👀😌
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A Fuzzy Friend
Simon x Fem! Doctor! Reader
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1.3k
“It can’t be that different.”
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He had that look on his face.
It was a mischievous look that held amused undertones. His eyebrows were slightly narrowed, and he had that shit-eating grin on his face. It wasn’t a look that he expressed often, but it was one that you knew good and well. 
When he walked into the infirmary with “the look”, you know that he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do.
He had walked in around mid-afternoon. It had been a fairly slow day. The weather was nice, and the sun was shining, although it didn’t do much to offer comfort to the crisp winter air.  In your experience, better weather meant less people screwing up and around and getting hurt. Your day had been uneventful, and it was your mistake to take that for granted. 
Afficher davantage
#awwww#đŸ„șđŸ„ș#animal love Simon#thats a first#and i love it
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Fem!Reader
Price saves you from some creeps
Simon's version
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thinking about Price taking you on a drive after he picks you up from some shady bar to keep your mind off the creeps.
when you called him in a panic, uncontrollable sobs and hiccups escaping you while you tried to explain what happened, he felt his blood boil with pure rage.
"I'm on my way, sweetheart." he said to you and he was there in about 10 minutes, then found your shaking figure hiding in the bathroom.
"Shh, baby. It's ok. You're safe now. I'm here." he coos softly in your ear while holding your trembling body in his arms.
he calls the lads to get in there and teach them a lesson while he takes care of you.
he'd be more than happy to do it himself, knocking their asses off for daring to touch his princess.
but he needs to take care of you. you're his priority. he has to take you away from there asap.
"Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" he asks, "I-I'm f-fine... I got in here to hide as quickly as I could." you respond through sobs and gasps for air.
"Good girl." he praises and kisses your forehead before placing a hand on your back to guide you to his car.
he takes you to your favorite places after roaming around the city for a while, "I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry about it one bit." he promises, his hand gently caressing your thigh, his touch warm and comforting.
he tells you funny stories and sings along to some old tunes and plays your favorite songs to distract you.
and when that gorgeous smile of yours finally returns, painting your beautiful face, he smiles proudly and reaches over to gently trace his fingers along your chin and jawbone, cooing softly "There's my girl!"
#đŸ„ș
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Chris Evans for CBeebies | Bedtime Story | Goodnight, Goodnight 
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I have nothing to justify this. I'm using this as my phonescreen so I made 2 versions for phones. The colours might be a bit of, cause I made it a long time ago (wasn't sure if should post it but screw it 🙃)
#đŸ€Łlove it
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