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moremaybank · 1 year

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DANGEROUS GAMES — j.m

pairing jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader

summary jj refuses to take the bait when you give him a tempting offer. you both agree on a compromise, but you're left pleasantly surprised with how things turn out.

warnings 18+, mutual masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, oral/face-fucking (m. receiving), cum-swallowing, smidge of a daddy kink, jj and reader's filthy ass mouths, i think that's it but let me know

author's note making my comeback ??? also testing if i wanna go back to regular-sized text.

jj masterlist

“J,” you sulk, rolling your eyes as you follow him inside the chateau. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s not that deep.”

JJ scoffs. “It’s not right.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Why not? Because of John B? JJ, you’re a grown-ass man.”

JJ pauses, turning back around to face you with a large sigh. “I’m not the guy who fucks his best friend’s little sister behind his back. John B is my brother. I’m not gonna do that to him.”

“Really? He’s your brother?” You ask. You approach him slowly, almost chest to chest, as you look up into his captivating blue eyes. You test the waters by bracing your hands on his firm shoulders, refusing to tear your gaze from his. “So that means you think of me as your sister?”

JJ gulps, and he knows you can see through the façade he’s putting up. You’re the furthest thing from a sister to him. He’s always thought of you as forbidden fruit. Something he’s wanted for so long but knows he can never have a taste of. The thought is burned into his brain, and it taunts him daily.

Your constant teasing doesn’t seem to help matters much, either. Sauntering around in your towel after a shower with water droplets littered across your damp skin, the outline of your curves still managing to show through the thick cotton fabric. Or when you’re in the hot tub together, your head thrown back with your eyes shut as you let the water relax your muscles. The thought of your tiny little swimsuit being the only thing stopping him from seeing you bare isn’t lost on him. It never is. But JJ takes advantage of the opportunity to ogle at you in these moments, having vowed long ago that he would take whatever he could get where you were concerned.

You’re a menace, through and through, and he damn well knows it.

“Give in, J.” Your hands slide downward, and your palms brush against his clothed chest. Your lips near his, threatening to brush against them as you spoke. “Give in to me.”

JJ feels weak. He feels like he’s about to snap, if he’s honest. Your lips are so close that all he has to do is lean in, and he’ll feel them glide against his like silk. Your scent overtakes him, a mixture of your perfume and the salt from the ocean. Heat ignites inside his chest from your touch, and his heart rate picks up. You’re close. Really close.

Too close.

“We can’t, Y/N. I can’t,” he whispers, gently removing your hands from him and putting some space between the two of you. “I can’t touch you. If I did…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I’d ever be able to stop.”

You inhale deeply, chewing on his words. A light bulb goes off in your head, and a devious look graces your features. You step closer to him, levelling his gaze from a safe distance. “Fine. If you won’t fuck me, then I want something else.”

JJ cocks a brow. “And what exactly do you want?”

“I wanna watch you cum,” you shrug, as if to say that your request is entirely reasonable and not one-hundred percent unorthodox (at least, between the two of you).

“I’m sorry, what?”

“If getting to watch you cum is the closest I’ll ever get to having you for real, then I’ll take it. I wanna know exactly what it looks like when you fall apart. I wanna hear the desperation in your voice as you work for it, and I wanna know how you sound when you finally let yourself have it. Let me watch you, J. I’ll let you watch me too.”

On the one hand, your point is strong, and it gets him thinking; this might be JJ’s only chance to feast his eyes on your body, bare for his viewing pleasure as you come undone without him having to lay a single finger on you. At least a fraction of his long-standing questions and fantasies would be put to rest if he said yes. But on the other hand, what if it was too much? What if you were more magnificent than he’d ever fathomed and was left yearning for more? What if he fucked up and gave in? He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to look John B in the eye.

“I don’t know. This is a dangerous game that we’re playing,” JJ speaks.

“Live a little,” you whisper.

JJ clenches his jaw, stepping closer to you. His hand creeps its way around your neck, asserting his dominance and holding you in place as he stares down at you. “If I agree to this, it’s just a one-time exception. No one finds out. You forget about me, and I forget about you. Got it?”

You nod in response, his demanding tone sending a thrill up your spine.

JJ’s hand squeezes your throat slightly, “I need to hear you say it.”

“I got it, J.”

“Good,” he speaks, releasing you from his grip. “Strip and get on your ass on the couch.”

You obey his command, already beginning to pull your shirt off as you approach the couch in the living area. You unbutton your shorts, shoving them down your legs and leaving them on the floor. You sit on the couch, your back leaning against the armrest while your legs fall open. Your eyes catch JJ’s blue ones, and you notice them trail over every square inch of you. Goosebumps form on your skin under his intense stare as he walks over to you.

“Shit,” he breathes, mirroring you as he sits across from you on the couch. “Look at how fucking perfect you are.” JJ’s gaze follows the expanse of your neck and clavicle, moving downward to drink in the sight of your tits sitting pretty in front of him. Your nipples are perked up, begging for attention that JJ is dying to give them. He can almost feel your buds between his lips and on the tip of his tongue, and he wonders what your reaction would be if he nibbled at them.

He salivates as he moves on to your torso, and not long after that, he lets gaze eyes feast on your swollen clit and slick core. Your legs subconsciously widen, and the stretch opens you up to him, giving him a better view of your arousal. He leans forward and spits onto your cunt, unable to hold himself back from doing so. Your stomach flips at the action, and your heart rate picks up as you watch his saliva dribble down your folds.

“Goddamn. Play with that pretty pussy for me, baby,” JJ says, moving to undo his shorts and remove his briefs. He finally lets his cock spring free, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. It’s so pretty, standing tall and hard as a rock with a bead of pre-cum seeping out. You can practically taste him, and knowing that you never will stings.

You nod in response to his command, and your middle and ring fingers spread his saliva over your entire core. Your fingertips glide over your clit, and you hum softly before slowly slipping your fingers inside. They knead against your walls every time you sink them in, and you let your head fall back in delight as you finally get a taste of the pleasure you’ve been dying for. “Shit.”

JJ joins you immediately, spitting onto his palm and gripping his cock. He’s sure to stroke himself in time with the pace you’re fucking yourself, imagining himself in your place. Things between you two have just begun, yet he’s already about to fold and pound you deep into your mattress. But he can’t give in to you so quickly, not when he knows you’ll hold it over him until the end of time. So he tries the best he can to gather his self-restraint.

Unfortunately for JJ, you don’t make it very easy. “Do you like this, J? Watching me fuck my fingers and getting off on it?”

JJ grits his teeth, “Fuck. Yeah, baby. I love it. Fuck yourself harder for me.”

“Like this?” You ask, thrusting your fingers roughly. You let out a pleasant gasp when the heel of your palm smacks against your sensitive clit. It sends electricity reeling through you, and you let out a loud cry.

“Oh, fuck. That feels— Fuck.”

JJ fucks his hand harder, his free hand gripping the couch cushion tightly as he bucks his hips to meet his fist. Your mewls and whimpers push him further toward snapping, and stuffing you full of his cock over and over is all he can think about. “That’s it. Show me what makes you cum, princess. Show daddy what makes you scream.”

You do as you’re told, putting all your weight on the armrest behind you and spreading your legs wider for him. The fingers of your free hand find your clit, massaging it roughly enough to make your toes curl instantly.

“Fuck, I wish your cock was inside me. Wanna make a mess all over you,” you whine, getting close.

It feels like a game, the both of you taunting each other and seeing how far you can go before the other caves because they’re so unbearably desperate. The tension in the room is thicker beyond imagination.

“J,” you breathe, “I’m all spread out for you. Paint my pussy with your cum, baby. Wanna put my panties on and walk around covered in you all day long.”

JJ nearly chokes when he hears your goading words. He knows what you’re trying to do, and god help him, but it’s damn well working. He knows you can sense his resolve withering away the more you beg for him.

His heated gaze locks on the way you’re hooking your fingers to hit your sweet spot, and the quivers of your body send lightning bolts straight to his cock. You're panting his name and so whiny as you chase your high that JJ can’t take it anymore. He decides he needs to be responsible for your sweet cries of pleasure. He needs to be the one to make your legs shake and your cunt sore from his thick cock stretching you out. To fuck you into a babbling, sobbing mess.

“I’m so fucking close, shit. Wish you could fucking ruin me,” you plead with a cry.

“Fucking hell,” JJ grunts. He shoots up from his seat, swiftly towering over you and yanking your hand away from your pussy.

“What the hell are you—” you begin, but you’re interrupted when JJ tears your hand away from your pussy and flips you onto your hands and knees. “JJ!”

A harsh smack lands on your ass. “Shut up. You’re gonna take this cock the way you were begging to.” His fingers circle the back of your neck, pressing you against the mattress and arching your back for him. His cock slams into you without notice, and you let out a strangled yelp. His pelvis smacks against your ass harshly as he pounds into you, and the constant collision of your flesh stings slightly, but it puts you further under JJ’s spell. His actions are deliciously rough as he punishes you for every single time you’ve ever dangled yourself in front of him like a treat.

“You’re so fucking big, J. Too big,” you sob, tears leaking down your face. You could feel him bruising your cervix and molding you to his cock — though he doesn’t need to work too hard to reach his goal because you already take him so perfectly. “S-so deep.” Your hand reaches backward, but JJ is quick to smack it away.

“No. You wanted me to ruin you, and that’s exactly what I’ll do to you. I’m gonna wreck you to the point where you won’t be able to get off without thinking of me. And then the minute you finally cum, you’ll realize you can never have me again. And that, pretty girl, will be your downfall.” JJ’s hands move to your hips, forming a solid grip as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts.

“J, please. I can’t— Oh my god.” JJ’s balls smack against your clit with each sharp jut of his hips, and the contact against your tender bundle of nerves weakens your knees.

“C’mon, baby. This is what you wanted, right? Wanted me to split you open with my cock and destroy your pussy from the inside out? Don’t run from me. Fucking take it like a good girl.”

“Gonna c-cum, J. Fuck,” you hiccup, feeling the coil in you approaching the breaking point. Your body tenses, and you let out a strangled cry as your orgasm crashes through your body. You go limp, and JJ continues fucking you into oblivion as you give up the last ounce of energy you have. He smacks your ass again, letting out a string of curse words as he tries to reach his own high. You feel his cock twitch, and you know he’s close, but he pulls out of you abruptly.

“Wanna cum down your throat,” he rasps, flipping you onto your back again. He stuffs his cock into your mouth, both of his hands cradling your face and keeping you still so he can fuck your mouth. Your tongue slathers against the vein on the underside of his cock, and you feel his hips stutter. He holds your face flesh against his pelvis as he shoves his cock to the back of your throat. “Shit. Fuckfuckfuck.”

The hot ropes of cum shoot out from JJ’s cock, and the mouthwatering saltiness of him coats your tongue and throat. He feels you swallow around him, and his hands release your face. He lets out the tiniest whimper, sending a swarm of butterflies to your sore cunt. You lap at his dick, cleaning him up before sucking to the tip and releasing him with a pop. Your tongue darts out, licking your lips clean.

“I always knew you’d taste good, daddy.”

His eyes darken with lust once more. “Don’t go there, princess.”

A devilish smirk spreads across your face. “Why not? I got you to fold once, didn’t I?”

And it was at that exact moment that JJ knew…he was fucked.

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e1e4n0r5 · 9 months

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Twisted Love

Summary: You always expected to marry your twin brother, Daeron. However, when this does not come to be, you find comfort with your siblings. As only Targaryens could.

TW: Targ!cest, canon-typical incest, canon-typical age of consent (I did age up a little but the first s*xual encounters begin at 16), kind-of-I guess-sort-of grooming (Targs gonna Targ!), explicit s*xual content, oral s*x (m receiving, f receiving), p in v, anál play, group s*x

Notes:

I did change ages a little in this, just to make it somewhat less seedy.

Aegon is NOT a r*pist (honestly, why would the showrunners put that in if they wanted the audience to sympathise with him??)

Given that this will basically be PWP, there’s no Dance

Few uses of Y/N, only when needed

I haven’t written in ages, so this is probably 💩

This is FILTH. Pure filth. Heed the warnings up top. What’s listed there is what you will find. This is filthy, sordid, devious SMÚT.

You weren't meant for Aemond. As Daeron’s twin, the entire realm had expected news of your betrothal for years. Growing up, you were never far from your twin brother. Wherever one of you went, the other was never far behind. He would walk with you through the gardens; you would read with him in the library. You would watch him train with your brothers and cousins – or rather, listen to his protests about training – whilst you sat on a balcony above, your embroidery on your lap. You would both insist on taking your history and Valyrian lessons together, not wishing to be apart even for those few hours.

You pictured your wedding, together. You would sketch your wedding dress, and Daeron would practice draping your family’s cloak over your shoulders. You would have practiced your vows together, if only either of you had known the words. You both thought of your future children, agreeing upon names for your future sons and daughters. You both liked the names Maelon for a boy and Daela for a girl, and both hated Jaehna and Raenor. You both wanted them to have the traditional Targaryen colouring – white hair, violet eyes – but did agree that perhaps one or two with the Hightower colouring could be nice as well.

This lasted until you were twelve, then Daeron was sent to Oldtown. You begged and pleaded for him not to go, but your mother and grandsire ignored your pleas. After that, you asked to go with him. After all, you could not be apart. This, also, was refused. You would stay in Kings Landing and become a shining example of a Targaryen princess, and your brother would go to Oldtown to receive an extensive education.

Watching Daeron sail away was the most painful moment of your life. You cried, and screamed, and wailed at the top of your lungs. Fuck dignity and decorum; you felt like your very heart was being ripped right out of your chest. It was unbearable. Your mother ordered Aemond to take you back to your room, humiliated at the scene you were causing. That was when it started.

You and Aemond had certainly been close before Daeron left, there was no denying that, but the whole castle knew who your favourite brother was. However, with your twin gone, Aemond seized the opportunity to take the place of your closest sibling. Just two years older than you, you started spending more time with your one-eyed brother. He trained every day, unlike Daeron who practically had to be dragged to the training yard by his ear, so you got a lot more embroidering done. He came to the library with you, content to sit in silence whilst you both read. You would make recommendations to one another, expanding both your knowledge bases. You became more versed in politics and military history; Aemond expanded his horizons with languages, histories of the Westerosi kingdoms, and even the occasional fictional piece.

Aemond corrupted you. There is no other way to describe the changes that occurred in you after Daeron was sent away. Aemond was the antithesis to Daeron, everyone knew that. Daeron was sweet, soft; a kind-hearted and devoted brother. Aemond was not exactly unkind, but it was inevitable that his darkness would eventually spill over onto you. It was so subtle, you didn't even notice. Not until your sixteenth year.

Aegon and Helaena were married, their twin children a few months old. You had been in your rooms, reading later than you normally would, but the book had sustained your interest strongly enough to carry on into the night. At one point, you heard angry voices in the corridor outside your rooms. Your brothers: Aegon and Aemond. You couldn't clearly hear what they were saying, so you put your book down and headed over to your door, opening it just enough to look outside.

Your brothers were just a few feet from your door, arguing in hushed tones.

“How could you do this, Aegon?” Aemond snarled. “To disrespect not only your wife and sister, but our whole family too! Those filthy whores from the Street of Silk-”

“Aem, for fuck sake!” Aegon slurred, clearly drunk and swaying where he stood. “I just needed some relief. Helaena has the babies and is never in the fucking mood, so I just went to the Street-”

Aemond catches your eye from your hiding place behind your door. He cuts Aegon off, his eye darkening as a devious plan formed in his mind. “There is another option available to you, Aegon.”

“What? Mother threatened to cut off my cock if I did it with another maid-”

“Not a maid, you fool. Have you forgotten; we do have another sister.” With that, Aemond looked you in the eye. “What do you think, hāedar (little sister)? Would you help our dear Aegon with his problem?”

The eldest brother looked over his shoulder, pausing when he saw you. He looked back at Aemond. “You don't mean-?”

“What say you, brother? Surely your maiden little sister is more enticing than a common street whore?”

Aegon looked back at you, smiling as he looked you up and down. “Well, I suppose we are Targaryens, after all,” he smirked.

Suddenly it all made sense to you. The lingering kisses on your cheeks and foreheads; holding you close if you reclined on a chaise; admiring how you looked when you tried on new dresses, Aegon jokingly suggesting the necklines be a little lower; scaring off any men who tried to dance with you at balls; kissing your neck when they held you close… Despite your mother’s insistence on keeping you away from your ancestors’ ‘queer customs’, sometimes Targaryens just needed to love another the most.

You smiled at both your brothers, cracking open your door a little wider.

That night you learnt about the pleasures hands and mouths can provide, learning all your brothers had to teach you. How to move your mouth up and down a cock, how to touch a man's balls, how to use your hands to stimulate the parts your mouth couldn't take, how to swallow their offerings. You started on your knees between Aegon's legs as he lay back on your bed. Aemond took charge and instructed you how to please a man's cock, at some points holding your hair and slowly moving your head up and down for you to understand the desired depth and pacing. Aegon sat helpless on the bed, leaning back on his hands with his head thrown back, lost in the pleasure of having his youngest sister’s mouth. At one point he asked Aemond where he should finish; Aemond told him they would be gentle with you on your first try. You didn’t understand what that meant until Aemond pulled your head off Aegon’s cock just as he cried out and spurted all over his stomach. Still holding your hair, Aemond guided your head towards the white sticky fluid.

“Try it,” he ordered. “Next time you’ll swallow.”

You tentatively licked up some of Aegon’s fluids, holding it on your tongue for a second before swallowing. It didn’t necessarily taste bad; it was the texture that threw you off. Aemond kept hold of your hair until you had cleaned all of Aegon’s stomach. ‘Can’t leave any evidence,’ Aemond explained. After all, you were an unwed maiden. The castle would be rife with rumours if your handmaids discovered a man’s seed on your sheets.

When you were finished with Aegon, you expected both brothers to leave. They did not.

Aemond turned you to him, still on your knees, and began opening his leather breeches. “Show me what you’ve learnt, sister,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. So, you did. You used your hands and mouth just as they had showed you with Aegon. Your jaw soon began to ache, unused to these movements. Aemond was longer and thicker than Aegon (who wasn’t exactly small), requiring your hands to help work him faster when your jaw was threatening to give out. Aemond hit the back of your throat more than Aegon did, and he held your head still as you coughed.

“Take it, take it,” he grunted, as he began moving your head back and forth. “Oh, sӯz riña, sӯz riña (good girl),” he panted, thrusting faster into your mouth, until he climaxed with a loud groan. He held your head to his pelvis, ignoring your coughs as he flooded your mouth. “Swallow it, hāedar (little sister),” he ordered, “Or else you won’t get your pleasure from us this night.” You had obeyed as best as you could, still coughing in between swallows. When Aemond was satisfied you’d done as you were told, he pulled out of your mouth, a thick trail of saliva and semen lingering on his cock. “Lie back on the bed.”

You had done so, and he had promptly bestowed on you the most exquisite pleasure imaginable with just his mouth. He pulled your thighs over his shoulders, holding your hips against his face. Aegon had gotten his second wind, pulling your nightgown over your head and laving attention on your breasts. You didn't know they could be so sensitive, pushing your chest into Aegon’s mouth and hands as you fisted his hair. You moaned and mewled almost continuously as your brothers pleasured you, writhing atop your sheets.

Aegon eventually pulled away and moved up to your face. Taking hold of your chin, he pressed his lips to yours. It was your first kiss. You sighed against his mouth, his lips soft against yours. His thumb stroked your cheek as his other hand stroked over your hair tenderly.

Aemond looked up from between your legs when your sounds became muffled. “Aegon!” he protested.

“I'm sorry, brother,” he apologised with a smirk. “You were right; our little sister is just too enticing.”’ He smiled down at you, “I've wanted to kiss you for so long.”

Aemond was not happy at all with the situation, but returned to his work between your legs. He licked and sucked at your pussy, whilst Aegon kissed you deeply and ran his hands all over your breasts. Everything soon overwhelmed you, and you climaxed loudly into your eldest brother’s mouth, your thighs gripping Aemond’s head.

Throughout the night, the three of you pleasured each other a dozen times over, not stopping until you were all on the verge of exhaustion. Your brothers helped you put your nightgown back on, then put you to bed, slipping out of your rooms in the early hours, undetected by anyone.

No-one was any the wiser about what the three of you had done. However, you insisted that you had to tell Helaena. The elder sister would no doubt be thinking her brother-husband was out walking the Street of Silk, instead of spending his nights with his other sister. To a Targaryen, it was the better option.

And Helaena had been grateful. She had indeed been thinking that Aegon was out in the city, spending each night in a different brothel, sleeping with all manner of whores; it was a relief to know it was their younger sister on her knees for him. And Aemond too. And, after a few more months, Helaena herself joined in. Her months postpartum had been rough on the Princess, leaving her with no desire for intimacy – the very situation which had led Aegon to contemplate whoring as a solution – but when her desires had returned, the first thing she wanted to do was thank her sister for attending to their brother whilst she could not.

Over the next two years, the four of you engaged in your illicit activities in the dead of night, using hidden passages between your rooms to conduct your affairs. You and Aegon; you and Aemond; Aemond with Helaena; you and Helaena; even Aegon and Aemond at times. The only rule you all had was that you were not to be penetrated. You were still unwed, and you all wanted your maidenhead to remain intact. After all, Daeron would be your husband. And although he could not be with you all for your delectable and sordid acts, you still felt like he was owed something as your husband.

But it was not to be.

It all came to a head on your eighteenth name day. Your mother had been telling you for months that Daeron, your beloved twin brother, was finally going to be returning from Oldtown, and a betrothal would be officially announced. You were elated at the return of your brother; you and he had not seen each other for six years. What if he had changed in the years? What if he felt you had changed? What if he disapproved of your relations with your other siblings? You had a profound love for Daeron – you grew inside your mother together, you were born only minutes apart – but you would not let him dictate private matters between you and your other siblings. He would join in on those matters, preferably, but who knew what kind of man he had grown into, separated from his Targaryen family and surrounded by books for so many years? But none of that mattered, your brother was returning.

Except he didn't.

The tourney for your name day was well underway, the midday meal had been eaten, and there was still no sign of Daeron.

“His ship must be delayed a little,” your grandsire Otto theorised from his seat behind you. “He’ll be with us soon, Princess.”

“Yes,” you agreed absently, “delayed.” Your disappointment was plain for all to see.

It wasn't until the tourney was over, the winner bestowed a great gift by yourself, that your mother told you there was a large storm over Oldtown, halting any ships from departing until it passed. She had also forbade Daeron from flying on dragonback, not wanting him to get caught in the same storm.

You felt your heart break. You and your twin would not be together on your name day. Yet another occasion you were kept apart.

Aegon and Aemond kept you company in your rooms that night. Helaena was too tired after the tourney and chose to retire to bed, so your brothers spent the evening on their knees, comforting you over your twin’s absence. Aemond at your front, Aegon at your rear. The eldest sibling was more than happy to settle himself between your cheeks for hours at a time, never seeming to get bored of your back passage. You never let him or Aemond enter you properly, only with fingers, tongues, or toys; you wanted Daeron to be there for that.

They slipped out of your rooms just before daybreak, allowing your maids to wake you in the morning. After you dressed and broke your morning fast with your brothers – Helaena was allowed to take breakfast in bed, as a married woman – Ser Criston Cole came by and told you your mother and grandsire wished to speak to you. Certain it was about Daeron and your impending betrothal, you almost skipped after the knight.

You arrived in your mother’s quarters, observing her standing by a window. She was picking at her hands, as she always did. Your grandsire stood tall a few feet from her. Although he carried himself with more confidence, there was an odd air about the both of them.

“Y/N,” your mother greeted, somewhat stiffly. “How are you, daughter?”

You hesitated. This would not be good news. “I’m well, thank you, mother. Ser Criston said you wished to speak to me?”

She nodded, her eyes flitting between you and Otto. “We didn’t want to tell you yesterday,” she admitted nervously.

Otto twirled a scrolled-up letter in his hand. “It’s from your mother’s cousin, Lord Ormund Hightower. He has asked that Daeron stay in Oldtown a while longer. He’s most pleased with Daeron’s service and is reluctant to replace him.”

You felt your blood begin to boil. “So, my twin brother and I are kept apart for even longer, because my mother’s cousin can’t be bothered to find a new boy to carry his cup?” you demanded, unable to hide your anger. You refused to accept it. You had been apart from Daeron for far too long. To have a reunion with him be cancelled so suddenly and with such a piss-poor explanation, was unacceptable to you. “And you chose to hide this from me?”

“Don’t take that tone, young lady,” your grandsire scolded. “A lord’s cupbearer is a good position for Daeron.”

“He belongs here! With me! With us,” you protested. “Have you no desire to have all your children together, mother?”

You watched your mother pick at her fingers. “It’s not that, Y/N-”

“Then what is it? Daeron should have returned by now. We were supposed to be betrothed years ago! Helaena married Aegon at five-and-ten; I am now eight-and-ten and there’s only ever been whispers of a betrothal for me. People will talk, mother; they will say I’m undesirable or unwanted, by my own family!” You wept. You wept hard, all your emotions pouring out. “Why can’t Daeron come home and be my husband?”

Otto and Alicent both looked uncomfortable. “It was never promised that you and Daeron would marry,” he explained. “Alliances may be required; that is why you are not betrothed.”

“And that is why Daeron is not here,” you accused. “It’s not some stupid lord wanting to keep his cupbearer; you don’t want Daeron and I to have the chance to marry, in case you need to sell me to the highest bidder.”

“Go on with your day, Y/N,” Otto ordered firmly, dismissing you and ending the conversation.

You had returned to your rooms and wept. After a while, Aemond, Aegon, and Helaena had all crept into your rooms via a secret passage from Aemond’s own room. They held you whilst you cried, comforting you as best they could. Then you had an idea. A wicked idea, one that could threaten to break apart your family or have you disowned.

You looked at Aemond.

“Marry me. Now. In the manner of our house. Our mother and grandsire wish to keep me unmarried, in case they need to strike an alliance. I won’t allow it; I will not be sold off into some strange family with people I don’t know and who don’t love me! I will marry, now, and I will marry only a Targaryen,” you insisted. “You can marry me now, Aemond, or Aegon can take me as a second wife.”

Aemond needed no convincing; it was exactly what he’d always wanted. He had loathed your loyalty to Daeron, having wanted you for years. Your two handmaids were called into your rooms, to serve as witnesses (they were too shocked to protest, merely standing in front of the locked doors as silent and still as statues) whilst Aegon performed the rites. Although you didn’t have the traditional Valyrian wedding robes, you followed the traditional ceremony in every other way. You exchanged vows and blood, anointing each other’s foreheads with your bleeding thumbs, and kissing passionately at the end. You swore your handmaids to secrecy until the next morning when you would announce to the whole kingdom that you were wed, and dismissed them, so that you may start your wedding night.

Aegon went to your drinks table and began pouring all four of you wine. By the time he had finished and turned around, you were moaning with Helaena kneeling between your legs as Aemond unlaced your dress from behind.

“Don’t waste any time, subyss (siblings),” he laughed. He set the tray down and picked up two cups. He handed one to Aemond and took a sip of his. He fisted Helaena’s hair gently, pulling her away from your pussy. Tilting her head back, he trickled the wine from his mouth to hers. She moaned softly and swallowed obediently. Aegon tapped her bottom lip, and she extended her tongue. He spat a small glob of saliva on her tongue, then nudged her back to your pussy. “Get our little sister nice and wet for her new husband, ābrazȳrys (wife).” Helaena went straight back into your pussy, spreading your lips wide and sucking on your clit. Your legs shook and Aemond held you upright, now naked behind you.

Aegon moved forward to give you wine as he had done to Helaena, but Aemond stopped him. “I’ll feed my wife for the first time, brother,” he protested, holding the cup to your mouth. Aegon smirked and held his hands up in mock-surrender, running his free hand over your breasts. He tweaked your nipples exactly as you liked; just a little too hard, just enough to cause some discomfort. You drank from Aemond’s cup, swallowing until he took the cup away, almost empty. You gasped suddenly.

Aegon looked down. “Helaena! You know the rules, no fingers!” he snapped, pulling his sister-wife backwards gently until her hand fell away from your pussy. “Her cunt’s for Aemond, you should have asked.”

“I’m sorry, Aemond,” she pouted. “I just wanted to start preparing her.”

Aemond shakes his head. “Ask first next time, sister. As Aegon said, her cunt is mine now.” It made you throb how he was speaking about you. He kisses your cheek, “Get on the bed, dōna (sweet).”

With slightly wobbly legs, you hurried over to the bed, reclining back. You waited. Aemond walked over to Helaena, still on her knees, and lifted her finger to his mouth. He sucked deeply, savouring your taste. He nudged her onto her feet, leading both her and Aegon to where you lay on the bed.

“Help me, mandia (older sister),” Aemond smiled at Helaena, slipping a finger inside you. She smiled back, slipping in one of her own fingers back inside her little sister’s cunt. Aemond looked to Aegon. “Lēkia (older brother), you too.”

You moaned loudly on top of the sheets, feeling a third finger enter you. All three felt different inside you, moving at different angles, varying depths, contrasting speeds. You forgot about everything outside of the room, closing your eyes and basking in the sensations provided by the fingers. One was slow and gentle, exploring you sweetly; Helaena. Another moved a little deeper and more firmly; Aemond. And the final finger moved in and out of you at speed, curling at just the right angle; Aegon.

The three older siblings all looked down at your cunt together, watching in amazement how well you took three fingers for your first time. It was a glorious sight. Aemond leant down and dripped some spit onto your hole, Helaena followed by example, and Aegon finished with a grin. The noise your now slippery cunt was making was enough to have you blushing harder than you ever had before.

“Finish for us, wife,” Aemond commanded. “Show us how obedient you can be.”

Aemond and Aegon took an ankle each and spread your legs, leaving you helpless beneath them. You looked up at all of them, overcome with pleasure and submission. The three-headed dragon standing over you smiled down at you, waiting patiently for you to reach your peak. You did with a loud cry, making Helaena shoot her hand forward and stick the fingers of her free hand in your mouth.

“Quiet, sister,” she whispered. “You may be married in this room, but you are still unwed to the rest of the Keep.”

You nodded dumbly, closing your mouth around her fingers. As she always did when she had her fingers in your mouth, she moved them in and out shallowly, shivering at the feeling of your tongue tickling her digits.

“It’s time, wife,” Aemond announced, and Helaena and Aegon withdrew from your cunt. You moaned at the loss, but quickly settled as you watched Aemond stroke his cock between your legs.

Your sister climbed up onto the bed next to you. “Finally, Y/N, you won’t be a maiden any longer, sister,” Helaena whispered with excitement. “We can spend our days all together now, there’ll be no more hiding,” she smiled, so happy there would be no more need for secrecy. Well, not complete secrecy. You smiled around her fingers, even as you choked with tears in your eyes.

“Hel, let up, she’s choking,” Aegon chided, pulling his sister-wife’s fingers out your mouth. You coughed a little but kept smiling at Helaena regardless. “If you really want her mouth, give her your tits. You both love that.”

“Oh yes,” she said absently, removing her own garments. She soon settled back next to you, pressing her breast to your mouth. You latched on quickly, humming happily as your sister’s creamy milk started to let down in your mouth.

Aemond moved your knees forward to your chest. “Hold your legs, wife,” he commanded, sliding the tip of his cock through your soaking folds. You moaned around Helaena’s breast, holding yourself open for your husband.

He slid in slowly, groaning low at how deliciously tight you were. He’d never sampled a cunt like it, squeezing his every inch. You sighed softly, feeling fuller than you ever thought possible. Aemond slid slowly in and out, feeding you a little more of his cock every time he slid back in. Before long, he hit an end inside you and you whimpered, gripping your thighs.

“Here, Y/N,” Aegon leant down and rubbed your clit slowly, helping you relax into Aemond’s thrusts. Such a kind big brother.

Helaena took her breast out of your mouth after a few minutes, laying down beside you. She spread herself in front of Aegon, who happily gave her his cock. As you and Helaena lay on the bed, side by side, your husbands pounded into both of you. Your hands closest to each other reached over and rubbed each other’s clits. It was wonderfully deviant.

“Mayhaps we both conceive children tonight, hāedar,” Helaena smiled sweetly at you. You smiled widely back at her, leaning in and kissing her deeply. All four of you moaned loudly and climaxed simultaneously.

That night was long, exquisite, and sordid. You could finally be fucked, properly and thoroughly by your brothers and sister, there was no need for anyone to hold back. Helaena even ran back to her and Aegon’s rooms at one point, retrieving a thick leather phallus secured to a harness and bending you over the bed. She explained dreamily whilst thrusting into you that she had had it made a year or so before, just waiting for the day she could use it on you. After you had squirted release over the both of you, she had thrown you onto the bed, put the harness on you, and ridden you wildly. Aegon even fitted himself into her ass from behind. You blissfully watched your sister ride you, whilst getting fucked in the ass by your brother, until Aemond gripped your hair and thrust his cock into your mouth.

Aegon and Helaena removed themselves from your room at dawn – you were all so exhausted, you must all have passed out at some point – and you and Aemond curled up together in bed, secure in each other’s arms. Your maids had tentatively knocked you awake, not knowing what they would encounter. Seeing you and Aemond in bed together could not have been too surprising; they witnessed your wedding, after all. You told them to bring you and your husband breakfast in bed. Given that you were now married, you were also entitled to that luxury. They did so apprehensively, but obeyed.

Word had obviously gotten back to your mother that you had not dressed for breakfast, so she knocked on your door a short while later. “Y/N? Are you well? Your maids told me that you are breaking fast in here?”

You and Aemond smirked at each other on the bed. You’d put your robes on, but had chosen to eat your bread and fruits atop your ruffled bed sheets. “Come in, mother.”

Alicent entered, looking around the room for you. When she saw you, she froze. You could see her heart stop beating. “Y/N, what—what is the meaning of this!”

You smiled back at her. “Well, seeing as Daeron won’t be returning to Kings Landing any time soon, I took it upon myself to find my own husband.”

“Husband?” she gasped.

“Indeed, mother,” Aemond nodded after sipping his tea. “Y/N and I wed last night, in the Valyrian tradition,” there was still evidence of the blood on both your foreheads, “with our brother and sister, and Y/N’s two maids, as witnesses.”

You smiled back at the Queen. “Wedded and bedded, mother.”

“Bed…” Alicent looked faint, your maids pulling a chair over quickly. She plopped down onto the seat, no grace in the movement, staring back at you both. “How could you do this, Y/N! We told you why you had not been betrothed yet!”

“I know, and I refused to be sold off to a stranger. I have taken Aemond as my husband, and I am his wife. The union was witnessed and has been consummated. It’s done, mother.”

Otto had been livid, a hair’s breadth away from disowning you and dissolving the union. But when Aemond had moved his hand to his sword, a clear warning not to insult or threaten his wife, the Hand of the King relented. It was announced to the castle at evening meal, with the formal ceremony for the Faith of the Seven held the next morn.

And sure enough, three moons later, you and Helaena were both with child.

So this will definitely end up a series 🤣 Let me know your thoughts!

Chapter 2

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #twisted love

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

Text

Robin isn’t sure why Steve is so pissy about Eddie and Nancy hanging out and trading curly hair tips.

Every time he hears about it he complains, “I’m Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. Why aren’t they asking me for advice?”

And Robin always asks, “Are you sure you’re over Nancy?” And Steve always insists he is. It makes no sense really, but Steve’s a horrible liar so Robin believes him. But she needs to see Steve’s reaction in the flesh to make sure he’s not just in denial.

So Robin comes up with the devious plan of inviting Eddie and Nancy to come into work after they try something new with their hair - leaving out the part that Steve will also be there. And, of course, she doesn’t let Steve know they’re stopping by.

But when the plan happens, it backfires slightly because holy shit Nancy’s hair after being finger curled is really really pretty and maybe Robin forgets to even take a glance in Steve’s direction. Also, maybe she gets super super tongue tied around Nancy and almost vows to never see her again because that was insanely embarrassing. But as the pair is leaving, Nancy shoots her a wink and says something about how she and Eddie will come back again.

During Robin’s very brief mental breakdown because Nancy Wheeler will be the death of her, she takes a glance at Steve. And he’s red. He looks utterly gutted in a mix of frustration and awe, and Robin’s stomach twists. She asks him the same question again about his feelings for Nancy, and this time Steve angrily insists that’s not it. So Robin lets it go.

Maybe next time she’ll remember to watch for the reaction.

But then the next time happens and Nancy’s hair is straightened, and Robin about loses her shit because that’s not what she expected but also she looks hot. Then, Nancy puts her hand on Robin’s hand and she kind of blacks out for a few minutes until they leave. Shit. Nancy Wheeler just has some type of effect on her.

Once again, Steve is bright red, but maybe looking a little happier than usual. So this time, Robin doesn’t ask about the whole Nancy thing. She’ll pay attention next time.

She doesn’t pay attention next time… or the time after that… or the time after that… but it’s Nancy! And Robin is convinced she has some type of powers or something. Maybe Robin’s just too gay for this mission.

But every time Robin catches Steve’s reaction after the pair leave, he looks happier and happier. Soon enough, she sees him start to look out the windows, anticipating Eddie and Nancy’s arrival, and every time they don’t show up he deflates a bit.

Robin nearly confronts him about it, but she doesn’t know what to say. Clearly, he looks forward to seeing Nancy, but he’s happy to see her even when he doesn’t talk to her? She’s doesn’t know what to believe.

Then, she gets another idea for a devious plan. She’ll get Eddie to come in by himself one time to see how disappointed Steve is when Nancy isn’t there. Then she can confront him after with no distractions. It’s a perfect plan.

So she calls Eddie and tells him to come in tomorrow. She doesn’t even get to the part where she explains why he should come in before he’s excitedly agreeing and hanging up. Strange. But Eddie has always been strange, so Robin doesn’t think much of it.

The next day, Robin is buzzing with anticipation to the point that Steve asks her several times, “What’s going on? Would you stop looking at me like that?” as Robin tries and fails to not ramble and smile about her plan. Today is the day she’ll find out what Steve’s feelings are about Nancy.

She looks out the window and spots Eddie and feels herself deflate when Nancy doesn’t also step out of the car. But that’s part of the plan. To see if Steve feels the same way that Robin does when Nancy doesn’t show up.

…to see if Steve feels the same way…

Holy shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Robin likes Nancy. Like full on crush and looking forward to seeing her type of liking her. Of course, Robin has acknowledged that Nancy is beautiful - gorgeous really. And yes, she malfunctions around her like Robin does around all perfect women. But a crush?? That means full on feelings and pining.

The front door bell rings as Eddie comes through. Right, the plan. Now is not time to get distracted by Nancy when she isn’t even there. So Robin watches Steve who has the widest grin that makes him look… ridiculous really. It’s not the practiced smirk he gives all the ladies he’s trying and failing to flirt with. It’s actual pure joy.

“Is Nancy with you?” Steve asks Eddie. Robin’s heart drops. Shit. This is not fun. The moment she’s been waiting for has arrived.

“No, it’s just me today,” Eddie replies, smile faltering a bit… that’s strange why would he-

“Is that so?” Steve replies with a smirk, leaning over the counter to invade Eddie’s space. Okay what’s happening? Steve leans over and lightly tugs at one of Eddie’s ringlets. “I think I like it this way.”

A slight blush appears on Eddie’s cheeks as he replies, “I didn’t do anything to it today.”

“I know,” Steve replies with a wink and continues playing with the strand. For some reason Steve is in his element as he plays into the role of King Steve - the biggest flirt Robin has ever seen.

“Maybe you should help me out with it sometime, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington,” Eddie replies with a shit eating grin, eyes flicking down to Steve’s lips. And then Steve turns that familiar shade of red, fucking blushing because of Eddie Munson. That’s when it clicks.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Steve likes Eddie. He was jealous because Nancy was hanging out with Eddie. Oh it all makes sense now, and Robin feels like a total dumbass. So much so that she walks up to Steve and smacks him on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” Steve asks, breaking out of his Eddie trance.

Robin jabs a finger into his chest, “You never told me you liked Eddie! And here I was thinking you still liked Nancy of all people when you could’ve just told me!”

Steve’s eyes go wide and the blush on his face deepens. Oh shit. Eddie. Yeah. Steve still fires back, “I thought you knew and that’s why you stopped asking me the Nancy questions!”

“No, dingus! And here I was thinking I was going to have to keep my crush on Nancy a secret forever!” Robin rambles out the confession before she realizes what she’s done. She slaps a hand over her mouth.

Steve stares at her, jaw dropped but a smile on his face. She can practically see the I knew it look in Steve’s eyes.

“Thank, Christ. Nancy has been convinced our little scheme hasn’t been working,” Eddie says sounding relieved.

“Scheme?” Steve asks him.

“We’d do our hair, come here, and try to impress the hell out of you two,” Eddie replies, and leans over the counter. “Did it work?” He flirts easily.

Steve blushes and looks away. Gross. Gross. Gross. “Take it to the backroom you two,” Robin says not wanting to witness what she’s sure is going to be a painfully awkward and intense flirt session.

Eddie smiles maniacally and hops over the counter, grabbing Steve’s hand and tugging him to the back room. Steve’s throws his head back with a loud laugh as Eddie dramatically opens the door for him.

Robin will feel excited for them later, but for now she’s going to have a freak out. She likes Nancy. And Nancy likes her??? Holy shit. Okay okay. Everything is okay. This is all okay. She’ll just think about this… later. Way later. Put it off for a while. Maybe avoid Nancy for an eternity.

Robin puts her head in her hands. How is she ever going to function around her - or in general - when she knows that Nancy likes her. Oh gosh.

The bell above the door rings. Robin’s head snaps up. Oh fuck. Nancy walks in, hair no different than normal yet absolutely perfect. Robin freezes.

“Hey, I saw that Eddie’s car was parked out here, so I thought I’d stop by,” Nancy says. Robin doesn’t reply just stares. Nancy smiles softly but her eyebrows slightly furrow. “Where is he?”

“In the back room with Steve,” Robin answers automatically.

Nancy’s smile grows. “He finally made a move, huh?” Robin nods in response, not trusting her voice again. Nancy sighs, “He’s going to kill me if I don’t as well.”

Robin freezes. Holy shit. Holy shit. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

“You okay?” Nancy asks, concern written all over her face.

“You’re Nancy Wheeler,” Robin states.

“Yes, and you’re Robin Buckley,” Nancy replies with a small smile.

“Exactly! And you, Nancy Wheeler, like me, Robin Buckley?”

“Yes,” Nancy says with a slightly bigger smile.

Robin’s jaw drops. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” Nancy replies with a laugh.

“Holy shit!” Robin repeats with a huge smile. She rushes back to the back room and pounds on the door. “Okay you two, it’s mine and Nancy’s turn in the back room!” Robin turns to find Nancy laugh as she easily slides over the Family Video counter.

Steve opens the door, vest slightly askew and hair completely messed up. Eddie comes out in the same condition, a big grin accentuated by swollen red lips.

“I like the new hairdo,” Nancy teases Eddie who hugs her tightly and whispers something in her ear that has her laughing.

Steve pats Robin’s shoulder and says, “Nancy is a great kisser. Almost as great as Eddie.”

Robin shoves him exclaiming, “Don’t ruin this for me, dingus!”

Steve laughs, squeezes her arm, then whispers, “I’m really happy for you, Robin.”

Robin rolls her eyes but pulls Steve into a hug. “You too, Steve.”

Steve breaks the hug to push her towards where Nancy is waiting in the backroom. “Have fun!” Eddie yells as Steve closes the door.

Robin flushes red and turns to Nancy.

“Hi,” Nancy says softly and walks up to Robin.

“Hi,” Robin replies trying to suppress her huge grin as Nancy cups her cheek.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Robin nods. “Yes, please.”

Nancy kisses her gently and pulls away. “You okay?” She asks again.

“Hell yeah,” Robin replies swooping forward for another kiss. Nancy giggles against her lips and kisses her back.

Robin needs to think of devious plans more often.

#steddie #ronance #steddie ficlet #ronance ficlet #robin buckley #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #fruity four #the fruity four #stranger things #I was shooting for a steddie ficlet #but ronance just kind of… happened #but I love them

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lesinquietes · 5 months

Text

Imagine being a hero working with the HPSC and being assigned to target Dabi, but then hero society goes down the drain and you’re captured by the PLF 💀

Tw; burning, death (minor), noncon (implied), sex slavery

You slowly become his arch nemesis (after endeavour ofc you can’t compete with familial hatred), showing up at damn near every large event he’s involved in, making sure he feels the weight of your presence. And he does. You can tell by the way his lips twitch into a devious smirk as he engages his quirk and tries to fry you. Your persistence frustrates him; you just don’t give up. Bonus points if you have an ice quirk because we all know what that’ll do to his poor, traumatized brain.

But then, when the Paranormal Liberation Front turns the land into a dystopian paradise, you fall as their prisoner. You fight as hard as you can. You think it’s over when you lose consciousness. Unfortunately, you wake up on a makeshift stage, instead, with others of your ilk, bound and vulnerable. There’s a sea of villains spectating around you, jeering, booing, and cackling at your state. It’s then that you realize you’re either going to be killed or auctioned off.

When Dabi steps forward, cracking his knuckles and grinning at you with steam billowing from his sickly grafts, you know you’re fucked. You witness a different side of his persona. It’s darker — eviler, perhaps. The way his eyes trace up and down your form unnerves you. There’s something haunting about his gaze, and you only find out what it is when he takes your chin in his warm hand and forces you to stare at him. The noise in the room rests as everyone observes what the tyrannical Todoroki plans to do with you. Only you register the lust in his azure irises.

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, you bitch.”

And for a second, you think it’s bloodlust; you think he’s going to fucking kill you. You think, in this room full of rancid spectators — in this lineup of other heroes who are slated to be auctioned off or executed — he’s going to make an example of you. You flinch when he ignites his blue flames and incinerates everyone. You bite your tongue to stay yourself from screaming as the heat licks your flesh, causing a thick sweat to coat your skin. You taste blood. Suddenly, all your comrades are dead, and you’re the only one left. Opening your eyes and coming into your new reality takes several moments.

Dabi doesn’t cremate you alive; he spares you. And he makes sure you understand your new purpose.

He declares, to the witnesses, that you are to be his concubine. He encourages them to find their own nemeses and repeat the process, as there’s no greater joy than breaking your enemy in all possible ways. You feel yourself shrink as he speaks, your heart plummeting from towering heights with his cryptic ideologies.

When he’s done, and the space is filled with roaring and cheering, he twists his head to drink in your figure once more. You’re covered in bruises, scratches, and gashes. Your clothes are ripped and you look like a fucking mess. Not to him, though; not when he’s been dying to get his scarred hands on your perfect body, all for the purpose of absolutely soiling you. To think, he actually wanted you dead at one point, when this type of revenge is far more satisfying.

“You’re gonna regret being an annoyance these last few months.” He promises you, tone saccharine to match the grin on his sparse lips. “Can’t wait to make you feel every grain of fucking stress you caused me.”

He could have lied to you, and that would have been enough to strike a fear of God through you. He could have deceived you and the audience about his reason for claiming you; after all, he would be praised for doing away with one of your kind. But as he takes you away from your dead, incinerated comrades, the scent of death sticking to you like cigarette smoke, you come to understand that he doesn’t make false vows; he does precisely as he says he’s going to do, re: getting revenge on his dad.

He keeps you locked in his private room, away from everyone else. He secures a new quirk-canceling collar around your neck and leashes you to the bed. Your wrists are pinned behind you and your curious eyes are concealed to disorient you. Of course, after rendering you useless, the next thing he does is incinerate your clothes. When you scream at the sensation of fire scorching your skin, living in horror for only a split second as your garments turn to ash, he cackles. He rationalizes that sex slaves don’t need garments, and that if he’s feeling kind, he might use his quirk to keep you warm. You’ll have to beg, though.

Fat chance, you think. Begging is weakness. Begging is forfeiting your status as a hero. Begging is fucking pathetic. You may have been defeated, but you resolve that he won’t vanquish your spirit. Much to your chagrin, that’s Dabi’s entire mission. He wants to break you. He wants to crumple you into something shapeable, so he can comfort your essence into what he wants it to be. The problem with Todorokis is that cruelty seems to come naturally to the most powerful of them. The moment you started causing him grief is the moment to knew he wanted to dominate you.

He snatches you by the hair and reels you in. Then, his face is mere centimetres from yours. The subtle scent of rotting, burning flesh is putrid. The only thing that stops you from gagging is the cologne he uses — that makes him smell like a dewy forest. He grins, steam wafting from his mouth, as though he’s going to explode into flames at any second.

“Should I start with branding you, or teaching your body who it belongs to?” He asks rhetorically, both of you knowing damn well he won’t give you a say in the matter.

#minors dni #tw noncon #I might write more of this bc it’s delicious but it won’t be a fic ✨#but the idea of Dabi getting the upper hand is 💯#yandere dabi x reader #yandere touya x reader #yandere touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi smut #afab reader

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aevallare · 4 months

Text

vow

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: ascended astarion/f!tav

word count: 5220

warnings: menstruation kink, throne sex, oral sex, obsession, jealousy, kidnapping, power dynamics, dubious consent, light bondage, inappropriate use of mage hand

preview:

Astarion asks, “Won’t I hurt you?”

His voice. She hadn’t forgotten, really, but melancholy floods her nonetheless. “I don’t know. But I had to make him think that.”

“Devious.” He claps in a mockery of applause. “You’ve made me look a downright fool, darling. Imagine my disappointment when I showed up to that godsforsaken pity party Withers threw and you weren’t even there.”

“I was busy.” She has to keep her answers short. If she gives him an opening, she’ll be lost forever. It’s that simple.

enjoy!!

-------

Auri’s cycle has always been a fickle thing. It’s stabilized some in the months following their defeat of the Elder Brain and as her stress and anxiety have leveled out, but her cycle is still far from predictable.

The twisting pains in her stomach are far from the worst they’ve ever been, but they’re uncomfortable nonetheless, and when she wakes to them and a sealed letter in her pack, she knows today will be strange.

Auri recognizes the author of the letter instantly, though. She’d know Withers’ hand anywhere. Her lips part as she reads.

It’s an invitation. Withers has invited everyone who liberated Baldur’s Gate and, apparently, a few others besides. He’s arranged for Karlach and Wyll to come up out of Avernus and transport for Halsin and Shadowheart from their respective homes. Lae’zel, too, will be in attendance, and Gale is on holiday anyway.

And Astarion, of course, though Withers leaves his name for last. Auri imagines that he’d rankled at the slight of not being asked to host.

When her stomach twists, it isn’t just menstrual pains. She tries not to think about Astarion if she can help it, though it’s much harder when her troupe is in Baldur’s Gate and the Szarr-turned-Ancunín estate looms over her at every turn.

The invitation’s for tomorrow, and Deadwinter is one of the biggest performances of the year. No one would ask any questions if she begged off for the night, but–

“Auri, can I get your help out here?” Amar calls, and Auri blinks.

She stares for a moment longer at the invitation, and then she says, “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

Auri throws the invitation into the fireplace. The flames lick away at it until Auri could almost forget she ever received it in the first place.

She steps towards Amar’s voice, and as she walks, the burden bears down on her.

When she’d helped Astarion ascend, it had seemed like the right choice for a multitude of reasons.

It would make him stronger, for one, in the fight against the Elder Brain. The odds were already so stacked against them; it made sense to make him the Vampire Ascendant.

He would never fear anything again. That mattered to Auri, and it mattered a lot. She’d known it would change him. She’d known it would ruin whatever love they had. She simply wanted him to feel safe.

And before every other consideration, it was what he wanted. If there was anything that she’d tried to impress on him in the weeks leading up to that moment, it was that what he wanted was important.

But she hadn’t understood. Neither had he. The Astarion she was in love with wouldn’t have wanted to become what he is now, a caricature of a vampire.

Auri doesn’t think that’s what he would have wanted, at least, but it’s been more than a year since she’s spoken to him. It’s been more than a year since she was in Baldur’s Gate at all.

She exhales. They’re here for three days. If Withers somehow comes knocking when she doesn’t attend the party, she’ll say she never saw the invitation at all.

Auri always feels silly at the Deadwinter performance. The outfits show far too much skin for what the weather should allow, but the venue is always artificially warm, so she can’t complain.

She just can’t leave the tent without nearly freezing to death. Auri pulls at the skirt, thankful that she’s at least allowed a semblance of short leggings underneath. If Amar’s to be believed, the outfit is supposed to evoke the idea of a snowflake, though her hair seems at odds with the concept.

Before she steps out on stage to take her usual place at Amar’s side, she exhales.

The others are all together by now. Karlach and Wyll have stepped out of the hells. Gale and Lae’zel have teleported in. Shadowheart and Halsin have no doubt arrived. Did Astarion arrive as a bat? They’ve surely realized that she isn’t coming.

It doesn’t matter. There’s a show to put on.

The smile Auri wears is radiant. It would glint off snow if the tent allowed it entry. When she steps into the light, the crowd is raucous.

They know her, of course. How couldn’t they? She’s the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. There’s a statue of her in the middle of the city.

Auri waves, smile never faltering, and Amar, voice magnified by a spell, says, “And you all know Aurora, I’d imagine! After all, without her, this crowd would look much different!”

He lets out a bellowing guffaw that almost turns the smile on Auri’s face real. Amar’s good at his job. He loves it and it shows.

When he gestures for Auri to take her lyre in hand, she does. This is like breathing. Her head tilts to the side and again, she exhales. Her fingers brush against the strings lightly, and she manages to play precisely one note before she sees the mist.

The lyre falls to the ground. In any other situation, she’d wince at dropping it, but there’s no time.

“You need to get out of here,” she says to Amar. “You need to get everyone out of here.”

But that’s futile. How wouldn’t it be?

Astarion’s the Vampire Ascendant, after all.

When Astarion manifests before her, all air leaves the room. He’s as stunning as ever with his marble skin and ruby eyes, perfectly manicured hair and nails.

And he doesn’t slaughter everyone in attendance, which is thoughtful of him.

Amar hasn’t moved from her side. He knows exactly who Astarion is, and he’s unwilling to leave Auri alone.

“Go,” Auri repeats. “He won’t hurt me.”

Amar swallows hard behind her. Auri herself doesn’t know if she believes that’s true. Regardless, he finally leaves, and the spectators continue filing out as Astarion asks, “Won’t I hurt you?”

His voice. She hadn’t forgotten, really, but melancholy floods her nonetheless. “I don’t know. But I had to make him think that.”

“I was busy.” She has to keep her answers short. If she gives him an opening, she’ll be lost forever. It’s that simple.

Astarion sets his mouth in a line. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Deadwinter is our biggest performance of the year.”

He casts a sarcastic glance around the now-empty room. “You wouldn’t know it from the crowd.”

Auri scowls. “Yes. I wonder why.”

“Embarrassing, really, this turnout.” Astarion sighs, shaking his head. “You’d think more people would have shown up for the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

“You know I never wanted that title.”

“I personally always thought that Consort of the Vampire Ascendant was much more prestigious, but what do I know?”

Auri has a million things to say to that, chief amongst them that she misses him more than words can say, but instead she stays quiet.

When she doesn’t rise to the passive aggression, Astarion exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “Well, in any event, your evening seems to have been freed up.”

Auri’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Relax,” Astarion says, every inch of him a predator, and Auri’s always felt like prey. “I have nothing but the best intentions.”

Anxiety bubbles in her throat, but it’s not like it matters. When he steps forward and his mist swallows her, she can only be thankful that he hadn’t leveled the troupe entirely.

It’s fast, traveling this way. Auri expects to arrive at the party, where she’ll have to field a hundred questions about why she hadn’t come in the first place and why Astarion had fetched her.

But it isn't the party at all. When her eyes open, she’s standing in the halls of Cazador Szarr.

Or they used to be his halls. They’re Astarion’s, now, Auri supposes, and the decor’s changed drastically.

Auri’s breath catches. There’s finery as far as the eye can see, yes, but more than that, this isn’t the lair of a singularly self-obsessed vampire.

It’s the colors. There’s Astarion’s red and black, yes, and the Ancunín crest is present everywhere, but there’s another color threaded through the hall.

There are accents of seafoam everywhere.

Auri’s lips part. He’s laced his lair with her. It wouldn’t matter where he looked. Astarion’s designed this room so that her favorite color is intertwined with his.

“This–” Auri swallows and steels herself. “What trick is this?”

“Trick?” Astarion asks, unimpressed.

It has to be a trick. It must be.

But it’s not. The seafoam alone could have been a trick, but there’s something else.

Auri walks down the hall with Astarion as her shadow. The room is conspicuously empty; it takes an army of servants to run this estate, no doubt, but Astarion has clearly arranged for them to be nowhere near here.

And at the end of the hall, there are two thrones.

One, clearly, is his. It’s better-worn, and every throw and cushion is in his colors. The other looks almost untouched.

When they met, Auri had been wearing seafoam and gold. The throne that isn’t Astarion’s looks like a concentrated vial of ocean and sunshine. It would be altogether out of place but for the way the same blue-green color weaves through the rest of the decor.

“I have made reminders of you to never forget how the thing I crave more than anything else walked away.” Astarion stands next to her as if he’s considering the throne himself. “And then you step into my city bleeding freely and expect to simply avoid me by not attending a function I only deemed worth my time because you would be there.”

“You could not smell my cycle from here–”

“I could smell you from the moment you set foot in Baldur’s Gate. I could certainly smell you this morning when you woke.”

Auri blushes despite herself. “That’s none of your business. You have your pick of meals these days anyway. I have no doubt about that.”

Her pulse pounds in her throat. Astarion can probably see it.

“If I have my pick,” he drawls, circling behind her, “Then surely it won’t be a problem if I choose you to feast on.”

Still, his voice holds this much power over her. When Astarion speaks, Auri bites her lip. He continues, “I have craved you every moment since we parted ways. No taste has compared, and believe me when I say that I’ve searched.”

Auri doesn't know if they're talking about sex or blood. She doesn't think it matters. Still, she doesn't speak. Astarion says, “Don't you find it funny how your traveling band of misfits never meets trouble on the road? Do you think that that’s a coincidence?”

Auri swallows hard. “What are you saying?”

His voice is at her ear. “I became this for you, little love. I kill and I maim and I slaughter, and I do it all for you.”

Astarion’s right, in his way, though Auri doesn’t want to admit it. He’d made it clear that he wanted to ascend to protect himself and her, too.

“Then stop all of it for me,” she says.

He chuckles, smirking. “It doesn’t work that way, darling. We made me into this. You’re the one who decided that she didn’t like the result." He pauses. "What say you that we make a deal?” Astarion asks. His hand is cool on her cheek and Auri leans into his touch reflexively. “Whether you admit it or not, you’ve missed me. I’ve been honest about how I’ve hungered for you.”

And he’s right, of course. Here, alone with him, the year without him falls away and Auri is as weak as she ever was.

“What do you propose?” she asks. His touch is feather-light along her collarbone.

Auri tries to steel herself, but it's futile. He's already won and he knows it.

“You're attached to your pathetic excuse for freedom, I know.” His fingers inch closer to her breast. “But let's put your willpower to the test.”

This is a mistake. She knows it.

Astarion is in front of her again. His hand switches course and finds purchase on her chin, tilting her head to the side to expose Auri's neck.

“For every climax that I bring you to, you give me a month.”

His words snap Auri from her lust-drunk haze. “A month? What do you mean a month?”

“I mean a month.” The hand that had exposed her neck falls between her legs, palming her clit through her leggings. Auri exhales a shuddering gasp as he continues, “For each time you come, you'll spend a month on the throne that I've built for you. My bed will be yours. This estate will be yours. And for that month, you'll be mine properly.”

This is a mistake. She’d known it already, and the fact becomes clearer by the moment.

“I stay mortal,” she says, her voice trembling. Astarion applies pressure again between her legs, and Auri whimpers.

When her hips buck into his hand, a wicked smile spreads across Astarion’s face. “Why you're so attached to your mortality is beyond my comprehension, but yes. If that's what it takes for you to agree, then mortal is what you'll remain.”

His words are annoyed but his tone is far from it.

“You won't touch Amar. You'll leave the circus alone.”

Her resolve was never going to last. She'd given in before they'd even begun.

Astarion rolls his eyes and his hand leaves the spot between her legs. Auri gasps with loss, but it doesn't last long. He scoops her into his arms and turns, depositing her onto the throne next to his.

Her throne.

“I would make you royalty, and your concern is with that ragtag group of nobodies.”

Just as she's adjusted to sit properly, Astarion falls to one knee, pulling her legs forward so that he's between them.

“They aren't nobodies–” Auri protests, but it's futile. This was over long ago.

His knife sits at the hem of her leggings. “If they aren't nobodies, then why did you spend the entire time that that pretty little fire dancer was between your legs wishing it was my mouth on your cunt instead?”

A blush burns through her as hot as the lust she can't deny in her core. “That's not true–”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side. “Then tell me to stop.”

The fling with Evana had been short-lived and mediocre. This will no doubt be anything but.

When Auri doesn't protest, Astarion pushes her skirt upward and runs his knife down the seam of her leggings with ease.

“Do you accept my terms, then? Or are we going to let all this blood go to waste?”

Need throbs in Auri's stomach.

“You won't touch them,” she repeats.

Astarion stares at her with twisted devotion.

“For you, my treasure, anything.”

She can regret this tomorrow. For now, she fists a hand in his immaculately coiffed hair to help his mouth find the place it belongs.

The first swipe of his tongue is like coming home. Astarion licks her clean without shame, and Auri doesn't know how she ever thought she could replace him with another. When the flat of his tongue presses against her entrance, she squirms impatiently. Astarion looks up at her, left hand gripping her thigh–

And with his right hand, he snaps.

His eyes dance with dark delight, and something spectral pulls at her fingers.

A mage hand.

“What–” she starts, but that’s all that she manages before the apparition gathers both her wrists in its grasp and pins them behind her.

His mouth pulls away to answer her unasked question. Auri's hips try to follow, but Astarion only smirks.

“It's your throne, darling, but I'm the one who built it.”

Blood adorns his face. He seems entirely uninterested in wiping himself clean. His tongue runs along his lips, and he sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

The Vampire Ascendant kneels before her, but it's a mockery of control that the position gives her.

“You'll get what you seek, and you'll get it many times over. In fact, I plan to give it to you as many times as there are months in the year.”

Twelve times– there's not a universe where she can orgasm twelve times–

She doesn't get to finish the thought. Astarion's mouth continues what it started, and Auri can do nothing but fall prey to his expertise.

There's no learning curve for him. He knew her body perfectly before he ascended and she became the Hero of Baldur's Gate, and he hasn’t forgotten in the year that they’ve spent apart. Astarion nips at the soft flesh of her inner thigh and all Auri can do is cry out, the pain intermingling with pleasure.

When he devours her, Auri can’t remember why she ever let him leave. She can’t remember why she left him.

Since she was named the big damn hero, everything has been an exercise in trying to be good. It’s exactly like it was before the tadpole but with the pressure of everyone’s expectations piled on top.

When Astarion’s lips pull at her clit, two fingers slip inside her.

Hasn’t she earned it? Hasn’t she earned this instance of selfishness, of desire?

The mage hand is unrelenting. She wants to thrash; she wants to ride his fingers, wants to fuck herself on them to orgasm. The pace he builds instead is infuriatingly slow, the suction torturous. When his fingers curl to press at the spot that only he has ever been able to hit perfectly, she gasps out, “Please–”

His mouth leaves her clit with a pop that Auri will never forget for as long as she lives. “What’s the rush, darling? We’ve got, well, as much time as I decide we have.” When he pushes the third finger inside of her, Auri’s eyes roll back into her head. His smirk is infuriating, but all it accomplishes is making Auri even slicker. Astarion continues, “On the other hand, there’s no reason not to start all of this with a bang.”

His thumb presses into her clit, and just when Auri thinks that release is imminent, he replaces his thumb again with his mouth.

Auri shatters.

Still, the mage hand doesn’t release her. When she tries to free her hands, its grip tightens if anything. Her wrists will be purple with bruises tomorrow, but Auri doesn’t care. Her hips cant upward into Astarion’s face, but he’s gracious toward her climax. As he works her through it, his mouth slows, careful not to overstimulate her as he goes.

She’s still in love with him. He’s not the same man that he was, but as the lightning bolt of an orgasm rips through her body, it’s the only thought in her mind.

When she comes back down, he’s staring at her as if she’s some marvel of the universe.

“A month, then, that you’re mine.”

He withdraws from her cunt, and Auri exhales at the loss. Astarion never stops watching her as he stands, the mage hand dissipating. He licks at each of the fingers that were inside of her in turn.

“I’ll claim this month, I think,” he says, almost absently.

Auri’s still breathless. “This month?”

He raises an eyebrow as if she’s asked a stupid question. He should look disheveled, untethered in some way, but he doesn’t.

He just looks hungry.

“What better way to ring in every new year than by tasting your blood and cum?”

And Auri can’t really argue with that, especially not when desire makes her face flush again. She deflects instead.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to make good on those twelve climaxes?”

Auri recognizes that the challenge is a mistake the moment that the words leave her lips.

Astarion's grin is devilish. “I was erring on the side of hyperbole when I implied twelve.”

There's blood underneath her. It stains the pillows and throws that he's taken care to decorate the throne with.

Astarion's always been fast, but now, he's supernaturally so. When Auri blinks, he's on top of her.

“How many can you handle, I wonder? How many times will your body let me unravel it?”

A lifetime ago, when they were both other people, Auri was gentle with him.

But that was a lifetime ago.

She fists her hands in the front of his shirt and pulls him to her. Her teeth clatter into his fangs when she kisses him. Auri’s never had the grace that he does.

“Let's find out,” she hisses into his mouth.

When he grins, it’s bloody. “How shall I give you my cock, then, sweet treat?”

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters as long as it’s him.

“The Vampire Ascendant, asking my opinion–”

Auri gets the feeling that he might be annoyed were he not drunk on the vitality he’s just lapped from between her legs. Instead, he says, “A privilege, to be sure,” and when Auri throws her head back and laughs, it’s real. Astarion blinks at her, almost surprised, but it lasts only a moment. He exhales, nodding at the shirt she’s somehow still wearing as he begins to unlace his breeches. “Off.”

She complies gladly, slipping out of what little clothing remains on her body and expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t. Auri swallows hard as Astarion’s cock slips free, but he makes no motion to further undress.

Instead, he once more lifts her into his arms effortlessly, taking the seat she’d occupied just before. He’s flush with the back of the throne, and Auri’s exposed entirely on his lap.

And again, any illusion of power that Auri had slips away. She has a knee on either side of his hips, and she grasps for equal ground when she says, “You always did like me on top,” but she’s already panting. “My cycle is going to ruin your lovely outfit.”

His cock teases her entrance. Auri’s mouth is dry.

“What better fitting metaphor for the way I’m about to ruin you?” he asks.

Fine things tainted by taboo. They’re the same that way. They always have been.

When he sheathes himself inside her, Auri thinks she might black out. Her head lolls backward as she takes him, and to any god that might be listening, she whispers, “Fuck.”

His hands are on her waist as he guides her downward, soaked as she is with blood and cum, and Auri moans as he fills her. He thrusts up into her once, softly, and one of his hands drifts to her breast. His nail flits along her nipple, a tease of a thing, and Auri’s hips roll instinctively.

Astarion exhales through his nose, his eyes half-lidded. For all his posturing, he wants her as badly as Auri wants him. She raises her hips to take him again, to fuck him until she can’t breathe, but even as she rides, he sets the pace. The hand on her waist helps her up and down as his cock turns slick with her, and with the other, he kneads the soft flesh of her breast.

When she tries to lean back and take him as deeply as her body will allow, the hand on her waist stops her.

“What–” she starts, dizzy with lust. His cock throbs inside her. When she tries to move, again, he stops her. “Let me–”

“How many were there?” he asks, voice cold.

“What?”

Obsession wars with lust in Astarion’s eyes.

“Who else tasted you, fucked you, loved you while I pined after you?”

“Are you seriously asking this right now?”

Astarion grips her face with the hand that had been preoccupied with her breast. “Yes.”

Auri’s racing heart stems from fear, adrenaline, and the cock still buried inside her.

“There were only two. You know about Evana.”

“And the other?”

Auri barely remembers the other one. She was blackout drunk in a bar in some backwater dive, looking for any way to bury the fact that she’d let Astarion slip out of her grasp.

“I don’t even know his name.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow as if he doesn’t believe her. She’d be happy to play his cock sleeve another day, but this wasn’t the deal they struck.

“Read my thoughts if you think I’m lying,” she challenges, but the intrusion of his mind into hers never comes. The intrusion between her legs, though, fucks upward, and Auri cries out.

“Did they fuck you as well as I do, darling?”

He knows the answer. Auri knows that he does. He just wants to hear her say it.

“No one fucks me like you do,” she says, and at last (at last) he gives her what she wants. Her body’s so sensitive; Astarion thrusts into her hard enough that it almost hurts, but it doesn’t matter. Every move he makes electrifies her, and again, her own pleasure’s outside her control. She’d meant to ride him, an at least symbolic display of power, but he’s stolen it from her.

And she’d let him do it forever.

The realization coincides with the hand on her waist drifting down her body. Auri doesn’t notice. She’s too busy losing herself in the heat that’s building in the pit of her stomach.

When his fingers find her clit, Auri falls forward at the stimulation, catching herself on the back of the throne. Her face is nearly touching his, and the movement has the side effect of grinding her clit into his hand.

“You’ll come for me, won’t you?” he asks, voice low.

He doesn’t have to ask. She would anyway. But when he speaks, it pushes her over the edge. Pleasure rips through her body for a second time, and Auri isn’t sure, but she thinks she actually screams. She collapses into his chest, every muscle in her body contracting as he thrusts slowly into her twice more before coming to a stop.

“A second month, then.”

He sounds so self-satisfied, as if he isn’t waiting to spend himself inside her, too.

She loves him.

Gods, but she loves him, still.

Auri can’t give him what he wants. But maybe she can meet him halfway. Her mind’s not working. She’s been fucked so thoroughly that she barely knows up from down, but she can’t afford that.

When he slides out from inside her, Auri’s confused. Surely he’s not done after all his talk of ‘an orgasm for every month of the year.’

“Since you like deals,” Auri says, undercut by the fact that she can’t catch her breath, “I have a proposition for you.”

Astarion’s tongue runs along his teeth and he raises an eyebrow.

“I won’t give up my life with the troupe, but–”

Astarion clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Disappointing, but unsurprising,” he says, and without a modicum of decorum, he turns her so that her back is flush with his chest. Auri rests comfortably in his lap, and momentarily, she thinks that this is surprisingly tender.

His hand spreads her legs.

“If you’re going to offer me some sort of consolation prize, I’d like you to see just how lovely you look with my cock stuffed inside you while you try to negotiate.”

How is it possible for her to still crave him after she’s come in his mouth and on his cock? It looks obscene between her legs, rubbing up against her clit, covered in her blood and cum both.

“Just think about how much easier it would be to keep an eye on me if you were here,” Astarion says, a hand under each of her thighs. His mouth is at her ear; he’s closer to coming apart than he wants her to think. His voice is ragged with it. Auri reaches a hand behind her to catch in his hair.

“Why can’t I have both?”

He answers by sinking himself inside her. Auri watches as his cock disappears into her, and again, there’s that inimitable feeling of fullness. This position–

She’ll never last.

“I’ll give you everything.” Astarion’s cock slams into the spot that makes her vision go white. “Gold, jewels, instruments you’ve never even heard of.” Auri can’t think. She can’t breathe. He’s the only thing there is and the only thing that matters.

Except that’s not true, no matter how much she wishes that it were.

“Three months. I’ll give you three months a year, whichever ones you want.”

Astarion nips at her neck, just enough to draw blood. “You’re going to give me that anyway, precious thing. Those were the terms.”

She’s going to break. She’s going to cry. He thrusts into her mercilessly, and the pleasure is relentless. Again, his hand finds her clit, and Auri briefly thinks that this might actually kill her.

“Three months,” she repeats, though not without scraping her nails against the back of his head.

“I think not.”

Auri cries out but steels herself. Ecstasy is just within reach, but Astarion’s close, too. She can feel it in the way his fingers dig into the flesh of her thigh. “Six, then.”

“Twelve, then, if you’re going to be stubborn.” A veritable growl bubbles from his throat, his thrusts lose their rhythm, and his fingers on his clit lose their discipline as finally, finally his unaffected veneer slips.

“Six,” Auri gasps. “Six months each year, but you can come to me and feed as often as you like.”

It’s the first time that Auri feels the balance of power shift in her favor.

“Come for me, you confounding thing,” he says, and he isn’t asking this time. The pressure on her clit is rough and she spirals into a third climax. Astarion chases her into it as her muscles spasm around his cock and in the same moment, his fangs pierce her skin.

She writhes, coming around him as he spends himself inside her. Her own blood trickles down her neck, but she has no doubt that he won’t let it go to waste. His cock pulses as he rides out his own end, and Auri doesn’t think she has ever been this deliciously full.

“Six months I'll be with you, but year round I'll be yours to feast on.” Auri’s vision swims as she speaks, the cumulative effect of three orgasms and Astarion feeding. When he finally pulls his mouth from her flesh, he’s silent.

He’s still hard inside her. When he shifts to a more comfortable sitting position, Auri’s eyes flutter shut.

“I’m not convinced,” Astarion says, and Auri bites the inside of her cheek. “But perhaps you could try to sway me in the bedroom, instead.”

He kisses the wounds he’s just inflicted on her throat. Auri smiles.

She’ll get her way. She always does. And she loves him.

Maybe that’s enough.

“You don’t want to make an appearance at the party?” Auri asks.

Astarion smirks. “I’ll drop you off there naked after I’ve had my way with you if you’re still being stubborn about letting me give you the life you deserve.”

Auri snorts. No matter what path her life takes, it always seems to lead her back to Astarion.

Auri likes Deadwinter.

thanks for reading love u bye

#astarion x tav #astarion #tavstarion #tav x astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 smut #astarion ancunin #astarion smut

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wisteria-blooms · 8 months

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (1/?) pilot

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

A/N: Pilot chapter of the Charlie Weasley version of 'long hair & tattoos.' Hastily edited before work so I'll fix things up as I go. I hope you'll like it!

CHAPTER 1: When Lucius threatens to bring Goyle over with the intent of courtship, you fight back. Malfoys never lose, right? 1.9k words

CHAPTER 1: 23, STILL CRAZY

Before you knew it, September had fallen over the Malfoy Manor.

Now, what did a September dinner look like at the Malfoy Manor?

It looked like a long dining table engulfed by the even larger room it presided in. It looked like a warm and gorgeous chandelier, embedded with thousands of crystals, that hung overtop the middle of the table. It looked like the rattling of leaves, threatening to redden and the brown, outside in the rolling gardens. It looked like the velvet sun seeping into the windows, casting frightening shadows on the patriarch’s face.

With every second that ticked by, you felt the last of summer slip through your hands. In a few weeks, it would get darker earlier and earlier until you were dining with your family in darkness.

“Genevieve’s wedding really was beautiful,” your mother, Narcissa, remarked for the third time today. And the tenth time this week. But who was counting?

You nodded blithely. Of course, it was beautiful. Anything Malfoy money touched, despite how little thought or meaning was put it in, was stained beautiful. Truly, it was something, watching your eldest cousin, Genevieve, marry on the cliffs overlooking the French Riviera. She wore the most gorgeous dress, and her hair was done to perfection, not a strand out of place.

You were happy for her but you had to wonder: wasn’t your own happiness what mattered the most? When Genevieve was holding Maximillian’s hand, saying vows that were too pure and sweet to come out of her mouth, you were sat alone watching. Your eyes would drift everywhere. First, at Draco, beside you, who had brought Astoria. You watched your two littlest cousins, Charlotte and Clara, holding each other and tearing up at Genevieve’s vows. Then, to your cousin, Claude. Claude was Genevieve’s older brother and was clasping his girlfriend’s hand that was perched on his lap. She was probably a soon-to-be-fiancée after this event. Genevieve’s picturesque romance sparked a fever in everyone, including yourself.

And you trudged on alone the rest of the night, nursing your champagne, embraced by only the sweet sea air.

Everything was perfect from start to end. They had perfect weather (cloudless blue skies and sunshine), the perfect people in attendance, the perfect vows, and the perfect dinner, the perfect wine, and—

As much as you hated to admit it, it was bitter to be alone.

Really freaking bitter.

“You should consider a location for your own wedding, (Y/N),” Narcissa, always the optimist, continued. “These venues book up quite fast. Susan’s daughter has been on the waitlist for her choice venue for a year now.”

“The booking isn’t the hard part,” Draco, your little brother by two years, added. “The hardest part is (Y/N) finding a man that can actually tolerate her.”

“That’s true,” you said in agreement, much to Draco’s chagrin. “I don’t think any man is suitable for my standards.”

“Maybe the men aren’t the problem,” Lucius, your father, said through gritted teeth. You had probably evoked some bad memories of you abandoning the gentlemen he’d tried introducing you to at the country club.

“That’s just it, they are the problem,” you shot back. “Money or status doesn’t better a person make.”

“You won’t be holding onto that belief when you inevitably end up alone,” Lucius stated.

“Father, I may have a solution to (Y/N)’s predicament,” Draco piped up. A devious smile spread across his face. “Dear sister, you remember my friend, Goyle, don’t you?”

All that came to mind when you heard Gregory “Goyle” was a sweaty and stout boy with a forehead bigger than the rest of his face. The size of his noggin clearly housed nothing because the thoughts that came out his mouth were puzzling. And any chance of Goyle nurturing his intelligence or academic pursuits was shot down whenever a pretty girl walked by. At least he had quidditch to fall back on. He was definitely a decent beater by strength, rivalling your best friends, Fred and George Weasley. They often complained to you about his dirty tricks on the field.

“I wish I didn’t,” you lamented.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “His father and I are acquaintances,” he mused. “He would be a decent choice of a partner.”

Goyle? That was the best your family could come up with for you? How low could they go now?

But still, you looked at your father in bewilderment. “You’re not serious, are you?” When Lucius didn’t answer, you continued. “Kiss any chance of intelligent children in your bloodline goodbye,” you quipped, swirling your wine glass around. “Wasn’t like Draco was going to propagate that trait anyway.”

“I would do a better job than you!” Draco retorted, slamming his own glass down. You smiled a bit; you’d broken him with that remark. “If I recall correctly, dear sister, there were some classes you didn’t fare well in, leading to mother and father having to visit the Headmaster personally.”

You flushed red. It was true, everything he said. It wasn’t your fault that it was just one class you couldn’t do well in, no matter how hard you tried.

“Well, if you spent more time reading than sucking off Pansy’s face in the library, maybe you would’ve graduated with distinction, too.”

“At least someone wanted to date me. Or were you snogging both of the Weasleys when I wasn’t looking?”

“That is enough!” Lucius bellowed. He was loud enough to shut both of you up. “(Y/N), this is despicable conversation and I will not have this at my dinner table.” Of course, this was all your fault. And likely, your father’s head was imploding at the thought of you having relations with a Weasley. Any Weasley.

“Yeah, (Y/N),” Draco whispered. “Don’t be indecent at the table.”

“Shut up,” you whispered back, taking a slow sip of wine to regain composure.

“I will personally extend a dinner invitation to Gregory and his family. We will dine here in a fortnight,” Lucius announced.

“What?” you blurted out. You thought this whole thing was a stupid joke. “For what purposes will you have him here, father?”

“I reckon it’s long overdue that the Malfoys officially make allies with the Goyle family,” Lucius stated. “And I’ve been left with no choice.” He was referring to all the times you’d rejected his friends’ sons.

The look on his face was stern. And for once, you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“If even Genevieve can find a partner to spend her life with, then so can you,” Narcissa cajoled. You would’ve laughed at her veiled insult towards your cousin, but the situation was too dire for humour.

Your father couldn’t possibly want you to romance Goyle. You were envious of Genevieve’s fairytale wedding, but you didn’t want that if Goyle was your betrothed.

You felt acid at the back of your throat. You clenched your jaw. Anger was burned your face, anyone who couldn’t see it would be a fool.

“I won’t have it, father,” you stated coolly. You weren’t going to let Lucius, who never lost at anything, win this one. “If the purpose of the dinner is for me to entertain Goyle.”

The tension in the room was palpable; the atmosphere had taken a complete nosedive. Narcissa and Draco remained completely silent.

“You don’t get to choose everything you want to do in your life, (Y/N),” Lucius gritted through his teeth. “You’ve made a fool of me a million times over because I let you do what you wanted.”

You slumped back in your chair and huffed. Whatever your father wanted, he got. But what if there was a way to circumvent that? The wheels in your head began turning. What if it was improper to have Goyle here in the first place because—

“I’m not sure how my boyfriend would feel about that, honestly,” you said, swirling your wine nonchalantly like you hadn’t told the biggest lie in the world.

And with that, three heads swung around and fixated on you.

“What did you say?” Narcissa asked, her curiosity visible on her face. “I’m not sure I heard correctly.”

“That I have a boyfriend and I’m not sure how he’d feel if he found out my father was trying to set me up with another man,” you responded.

“That’s impossible,” Draco stated. “You just said there was no man suitable for your standards.”

“In general, yes, of course,” you said. “But he’s different.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Draco asked, trying to get you to perjure yourself.

“Why wouldn’t he have come to the wedding?” Narcissa asked. You were lucky that her sudden interest superseded any of Draco’s questions.

“I wasn’t sure how well-received he’d be around such uptight people like Uncle Theo and the rest of our family,” you said. “And he’d would’ve drawn all the attention off Genevieve, which would’ve been disastrous given her constant need for it. Maybe you could meet him in a more intimate setting, like at this dinner father is suggesting we have.”

Lucius’s lip quirked. “And to what—”

“Advantage you’ll have? If you’re looking to better our family name, I assure you he will do a much better job than the Goyles ever could.”

You were so cool despite your frantically-beating heart that you were impressed with yourself. Who knew that deep-down, you could be a stone-cold Malfoy, too? Fred and George surely wouldn’t be impressed with that revelation.

“Fine,” Lucius finally ceded. “Invite him over in a fortnight. But I must warn you, (Y/N), if you do anything to embarrass the family name…”

“I understand, father,” you responded with your hands in the air. You knew the lecture by heart. “I’ll renounce the trust put in my name, and allow Draco inherit it instead.”

“And we’ll invite the Goyles over with the intention of courtship.”

Lucius thought you’d be upset about that, that it was a good enough threat to put you in line. But you didn’t care. You had the wealth of your own savings and the knowledge that Draco would always be your family’s favourite child. If your parents had it their way, Draco would inherit everything and he wouldn’t have to split it with their failure of a daughter. He was brilliant and golden; you were the runt. Empty threats like that meant nothing to you.

“You’re a liar,” whispered Draco from beside you.

“I would never,” you shot back. “Just wait and see.”

“Oh, I’m just aching in anticipation,” he said. “To see how badly you’ll embarrass yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, and adjusted your posture on your seat as the main course, salmon and asparagus, was served by Dobby.

When dinner concluded, you ran up the stairs without a look back. When you were certain you were alone and that every single sound-proofing charm was cast on your room, you frantically opened your drawer. You pulled out a directory and slammed through the pages. Names of old classmates and acquaintances whipped past your vision, but no one seemed to fit what you were looking for: a fake boyfriend to get your parents to sod off for the rest of your life.

You were going to wage another Wizarding War if you asked your male friends who were dating or engaged to other women. And any of the boys you danced off at the country club certainly weren’t going to be on your side.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, slamming the directory shut.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back again the bed. You would figure this out tomorrow, if Fred and George could carve out some time for you.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

<< CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley fic #bill weasley x reader

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ki-yomii · 5 months

Text

b.d.e | ksj

➥ pairing | kim seokjin x f!reader

➥ word count | ~800

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, orgasm control/edging, pet names, mild praise kink, wet & messy, oral (f receiving), prep, big dick Jin

➥ summary | don't you know he'll never fit if he doesn't prep you first?

➥ notes | gotta feed my lovely cinnabon wife @supertuna-sideblog 😘

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

“Shh, that’s it - just like that, baby. You’re doing so well.”

Whining low and wounded, the sound scraped up from the depths of your raw throat, you thought - not for the first time, and certainly not for the last - how unreasonable Kim Seokjin could be.

After almost a year of (secret) dating, his ability to worm his way under your skin only flourished, and he used it to his full advantage much to your detriment.

Case in point: what initially started out as a necessity quickly became a fun little indulgence for him, and a zero-sum game for you.

Winning, losing; every time he got you on your back, you were both victor and victim.

Not only had it taken him months to put his hands anywhere below the waist.

You were half convinced he never would have taken it any further had you not pushed, pressed, prodded until he quite literally snapped one day, bent you over a counter, and fucked you so hard you limped for days afterward.

It wasn’t necessarily his fault - you said you could handle it… which was, in fact, a bald-faced lie.

His cock was thick and long and stuffed you to the brim until tears clung to your lashes. The stretch stung, settling behind your navel like a lead ball.

And even though you dripped onto the tile, it wasn't smooth. But you were so satisfied, your walls quivering and clamping down on his shaft with every jerky thrust of his hips, that you didn’t care.

In the aftermath, you loved how rough he’d been - even if your new best friend was the ice pack from your freezer - whereas Seokjin vowed to prep you thoroughly before his dick got anywhere near your nethers from then on.

He didn’t want to ruin his precious baby, after all.

At least, not in the way you begged him too.

No, the devious bastard came up with a solution all on his own. Instead of outright wrecking you on his cock until you were sore and bruised, cum dumb, and cock drunk, he preferred the more discreet, insidious path.

He wound you up: softened your resolve with butterfly kisses peppered from the apples of your cheeks to the curve of your belly, and teasing caresses of his fingers over the peak of your nipple, the back of your thigh, the dip of your belly button.

Then, when you least expected it, he’d swoop in; spread your sticky folds open with his thumbs, and wrap those pretty lips around your clit while his tongue traced your entrance, lapping at the honey of your cunt with a low hum of approval.

Meanwhile, you’d writhe, whine, wrap your hands around his broad shoulders, and claw for freedom.

He brings you right to the edge, your trembling thighs clamping down on his ears, and then he pulls away, strings of your arousal clinging to the swollen, red plush of his mouth, the flicker of his pink tongue as he licks himself clean with a smirk.

“Jin!”

Your chest flutters with every harried breath, heat pooling deep behind your navel; pulsing in time with your heartbeat. Your pussy clenches, twitches as the cool air brushes over your abused folds as your orgasm is snatched from you.

Again.

“Please - please, no more.”

Your skin feels tight, and itchy like a bad sunburn. Your hands flutter about the sheets, unsure where to settle as lighting crackles down your spine.

"Give me your cock, or let me cum."

“I can’t do that, baby. Not yet.”

“No, you can!”

A low hum rumbles from his chest, and his eyes - twin pools of heated black - dart from the tremble of your chin to the throb of your poor clit.

“No. We’ve gotta make sure your pretty little pussy can take me, yeah? You’re still too tight.”

Tears bead at the corners of your lash line, and you say, “No, ‘m not. You’ve done enough prep, I promise. It’s - it’s too much. Please just fuck me now.”

“Oh, baby,” Seokjin breathes, reaching down to smear your slick over your tender clit with the ball of his thumb, groaning when you hiccup as the little bundle of nerves jumps beneath his touch, “you know better. I don’t want to hurt you again. Now be a good girl, and let me take care of you.”

“But--”

“Shhh. It’s all right, I’ve got you. Soon, okay? I still need to play with you a little bit more.”

#kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #kim seokjin x you #jin x reader #jin x you #kim seokjin

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sandythereadingcafe · 3 months

Text

COVER REVEAL

DEVIOUS VOW by Jagger Cole

Jagger Cole has revealed the cover for Devious Vow!

Releasing: February 22, 2024

Photographer: Morizio Montani

Cover Designer: Plan 9 Book Design

Once he was my enemy. Now, he's my boss.

Rich, successful, viciously gorgeous, and sinisterly brutal, Alistair Black is every bit his last name.

Morally black. Inky black heart. Devious black soul.

In college, we were enemies. Rivals. Bully vs bully. I almost ruined his life.

Now, ten years later, our paths cross again when I'm forced to work under him.

And he hasn't at all forgotten or forgiven me for what I did to him back at school.

Now he's my brooding, emotionally unavailable boss with the body of a god.

And I'm his plaything.

The target of his malice and revenge. The one from whom he wants to hear "yes, sir", and nothing else.

Years ago, I thought I was done with Alistair Black.

But it turns out, he's nowhere near done with me...

Devious Vow is a standalone dark mafia, grumpy/sunshine, enemies-to-lovers romance with a smart, untamable heroine, and an ultra possessive hero with "look at her and I'll unalive you" energy. Readers are advised to read the TW inside. No cliffhanger; HEA included.

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/4bk0IkA

Amazon Worldwide: https://bit.ly/3NP3xzN

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3NQv2Jq

#books #cover reveals #Devious Vow #Jagger Cole

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tastywordgasms · 3 months

Text

👀📚ᑕᗝᐯᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᐯᗴᗩᒪ📚👀 Jagger Cole has revealed the cover for Devious Vow! Releasing on February 22, 2024. ℙ𝕣𝕖-𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 ℂ𝕆𝓅𝕪 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪! @jaggercoleauthor @valentine_pr_ #ContemporaryRomance #DarkRomance #RomanticSuspense #AlphaHero #Angsty #AntiHero #BadBoyGoodGirl #ArrangedMarriage #Blackmail #BoyObsessed #Bully #EnemiestoLovers #ForbiddenLove #ForcedMarriage #ForcedProximity #GrumpySunshine #HeroineinDanger #Mafia #Redemption #RescuingHerfromMrWrong #Suspense #SecondChance #SecretRomance #SecretSociety #TragicPast #bookclub #bookish #booklover #booksta #bookstagram #bookworm #readersofig #readersofinstagram #coverreveal #valentineprlm @valentine_pr_ℛ𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔👀📚ᑕᗝᐯᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᐯᗴᗩᒪ📚👀 Jagger Cole has revealed the cover for Devious Vow! Releasing on February 22, 2024. Pre-order your copy today! @jaggercoleauthor @valentine_pr_ #ContemporaryRomance #DarkRomance #RomanticSuspense #AlphaHero #Angsty #AntiHero #BadBoyGoodGirl #ArrangedMarriage #Blackmail #BoyObsessed #Bully #EnemiestoLovers #ForbiddenLove #ForcedMarriage #ForcedProximity #GrumpySunshine #HeroineinDanger #Mafia #Redemption #RescuingHerfromMrWrong #Suspense #SecondChance #SecretRomance #SecretSociety #TragicPast #bookclub #bookish #booklover #booksta #bookstagram #bookworm #readersofig #readersofinstagram #coverreveal #valentineprlm @valentine_pr_

Releasing: February 22, 2024 Photographer: Morizio Montani Cover Designer: Plan 9 Book Design Once he was my enemy. Now he’s, my boss. Rich, successful, viciously gorgeous, and sinisterly brutal, Alistair Black is every bit his last name. Morally black. Inky black heart. Devious black soul. In college, we were enemies. Rivals. Bully vs bully. I almost ruined his life. Now, ten years later,…

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#Devious Vows #Jagger Cole #Venomous Gods 2

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brittle-doughie · 1 year

Text

Star of the Industry (Popping Candy, DJ, Rockstar, Parfait, and Shining Glitter Cookie)

Requested by: 🧁 anon. Sorry for the wait, but here it is at last! Quite a lot of musical cookies!

“Ladies and gentlemen, Star Jelly Records would like you to put your hands together for the one and only, Y/N Cookie!”

The crowd roared and cheered as you came up onto the stage, outfit and mic at the ready. You tipped your head in confidence as you began to sing.

Running out the oven, we are never turning back. We will not be the witch’s crispy, crunchy snacks!

You danced as good as you sang, making finger guns towards the audience, with the cookie at the receiving end fainting in their fanboyism/fangirlism.

Security cookies had to deal with fans trying to leap over the railings to get closer to you, some had to work hard to get hired this job and it showed with how much they pushed back against the crowd, they were determined to keep you safe.

Be the way you want to be, for all of those to see…

The crowd erupted into cheering as you dropped the mic…into your other hand because microphone were delicate things, why drop it on the ground, hehe.

————————————————————————

You were making your way to your vehicle, security covering you as you walked, your personal agent, Dumpling Cookie, walking right beside you as she too cleared your way of the boisterous crowd.

“Clear the way, cookies. Y/N Cookie has a lot of places to be! HEY! You keep your hands off their hair!”

She smacked the offending cookie on the head with her notebook.

Like with your security detail, Dumpling Cookie had to work real hard to get the role as your agent and vowed to be the best there was. Really only soft spoken and considerate to you, she was cold and professional with others.

She will not tolerate anyone taking advantage of you and will put her foot down towards devious contracts these big shot studios were giving you, with Star Jelly Records being one of few that she was willing to settle with.

You two made to your vehicle as security escorted you both in, with them following after as you drove off.

“You were unbelievable today, Y/N Cookie. Ah, I already preordered myself a copy.”

You very much appreciated her support as you smiled warmly at her, Dumpling having to cover a blush with her notebook.

“O-of course, Y/N Cookie. Okay, next on the schedule is a interview with Reporter Cookie, and then a meeting with our manager, he said it was important.”

The manager? Wonder what that will be about. Sales have been doing pretty wonderfully, and you don’t recall particular problems with today’s performance..what was on his mind…?

————————————————————————

“Tell us, Y/N Cookie, how does it feel to be the next big and upcoming pop star? Your tracks never fail to reach around the top of the chart! I struggle to even get a physical copy with how many cookies crowd the stores!”

Cue a video showing a large crowd of cookies entering the store, huddling around your section inside as copies were literally flying off the shelves.

You chuckled at the recorded scene before answering her question that you were rather humbled that cookies actually listened to, god forbid, even like your music! You uploaded your first track for fun, not really expecting the SURGE of popularity it garnered!

You remember just making a small song in your home and posting it online, not really thinking much of it. To go from being a regular cookie to being a popular figure was surreal to say the least!

“Haha! That’s Y/N Cookie for you, viewers! Humble to the end! Your songs are always so sweet and amazing, it’s even garnered the attention of other cookies in the industry! Even the superstar, Shining Glitter Cookie, plays your songs in her car, humming along to it!”

Shining Glitter…actually likes your songs too? That…was a lot to take in actually, hehe.

“In fact, you’re the talk of the town amongst other well known cookies in the music biz! DJ Cookie mentions you a lot on their posts, Popping Candy showed off his collection of your merchandise, even rising star Parfait Cookie says she gets inspiration from you and your singing!”

Parfait Cookie, you remember going to one of her shows, before you became popular. It was a little funny now that she was looking to you for her inspiration to rise as a pop star!

Funny indeed…

————————————————————————

Your manager praised you for another outstanding performance today, tickets sold like crazy and merchandise sales continue to impress! Dumpling Cookie got a little bit of a scowl going on, she didn’t like all this talk about the money the manager was spouting.

“But…I believe you can get an even bigger popularity boost then what you have right now! After all, a cookie of your talent deserved it! Hence why I called you here!”

Oh? You asked him what that would be? You’re pretty comfy where you are right now.

“It’s no secret that other popular figures in this industry are fans of your music, so I reached out and a multitude of them wished to have a collaboration with you! A great opportunity in my opinion!”

“Now just hold on a second.”

Dumpling Cookie objected, surprising both you and the manager.

“I know you’re the boss and all, but is this really a decision only you yourself can make? A collaboration requires agreement from both sides and I’m not hearing any say from Y/N Cookie about this. I will not let Y/N Cookie be forced into anything.”

You accept!

“W-what?!”

“See, this cookie wants to do this as well! Let’s get this project underway!”

The manager starts to type away at his computer as Dumping turned to you in concern.

“You really want to do this, Y/N Cookie? I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable with this whole thing. Watching out for you is not just me doing my job, but because I care about you. Know that.”

You chuckled as you placed a hand on her shoulder, you looked her in the eye and reassured her that you were okay with it. It sounded like a neat idea and hey, you could make some new friends with this collaboration project. You thanked her for caring about you, it what makes her an awesome secretary to you.

Again, she used her notebook to hide her blushing face, a small smile forming on her face.

————————————————————————

You waited in your studio for the first cookie the manager scheduled for you, the door opening to reveal them.

Rock and roll, baby! Rockstar Cookie had made it onto the scene! He was enthusiastic to meet you, playing a guitar riff as he entered the room!

He’s seen your stuff and wanted to collaborate with you as your musician! With your cool singing and his spectacle guitar playing, you two would make a good team!

His admiration didn’t stop at just your jams, he will compliment you personally, though this will get an eyebrow raise from Dumpling Cookie.

You agreed that his guitar playing was pretty great, those were some sick riffs he played. This is enough for Rockstar to start playing his guitar from the hype.

Your audiences will just adore the two of you together, baby. His fans will simply love you after a concert together! He knows he does-

Alright that was enough as Dumpling Cookie nudged him out the door, Rockstar calling out to you that he hopes you pick him! Other cookies have no soul with their music, rock and roll was the way to go!

“Okay, that’s one of them. Not bad with a guitar, but should really learn personal space. Who’s next?”

Parfait Cookie would be the next to walk through the door, at first a little nervous, but after a warm welcome from you, her confidence grew and she was eager to proclaim her inspiration from you!

She heard one of your songs in the cafe and was immediately got stuck in her head. She was, like, a pretty big fan of you afterwards. She watched your shows and would try to replicate your singing and dancing herself!

You were flattered! It was pretty clear Parfait looked up to you a lot, like, a lot a lot.

She’s got a bunch of your albums in her room, she couldn’t pick favorites, they were all amazing! It would be perfect if you could sign them!

You were amazing….~

She would be a incredibly happy cookie if you collaborated with her, not only would she be one step closer to her dream, it would make her year to sing alongside her idol!

“Happy to possibly work with you, Y/N Cookie! I’ll totally cherish the time spent together, paru paru parfait~!”

Parfait happily waved at you as she made her exit, Dumpling closing the door behind her.

“She seemed fine, an inspiring cookie with a dream. Though she seemed too sugary with her admiration, if you want my opinion on it I mean. Let’s see…”

DJ Cookie made through the door with sick beats, nodded their head as they made their way to you. The winner of 8 Jammy Awards and had earned the label of having the best album of the year!

You’ve heard of DJ Cookie’s music career and thanked them for believing you were worth it to collaborate with.

Of course, you were a cookie with a sick talent for singing and dancing, DJ themself have a few videos of your performance in the background while they record!

They saw Rockstar Cookie leaving your office with a smug grin, you weren’t actually considering collaborating with him, were you? His music would put people to sleep, not DJ!

DJ believed that you are worth so much more to let a cookie like Rockstar be your musician for a concert! You deserved only the best and they will do their hardest to be the best for you!

8 JAMMY AWARDS. Did you know they won 8 of them?! Their album was at the top for the year! There was no cookie capable of such feats as them! The choice to collaborate with is obvious!

Just say you’ll pick them please.

And that was Dumpling’s cue to escort DJ out of the studio. DJ tried to say that it was only a heat of the moment thing, but Dumpling wasn’t having it as she closed door.

“For a cookie of their caliber, that went down fast. Please advise caution if you go with DJ Cookie, Y/N Cookie. They don’t seem to be of sound mind when it comes to…rivals. Next one in line!”

Popping Candy, similar to Parfait, was nervous when coming through the door. Along with Shining Glitter, you were an idol to him and his group the more they climbed up the chain.

Shows you his collection of your merch he has on his phone. He even had the head shaped pillow that quickly ran out of stock! To see his collection yourself, you chuckled as you scratched the back of your head in flattery.

When your manager put out the offer of a collaboration in his feed, he jumped at the opportunity. To have a joint concert with you would be a dream come true for a fan of his level.

He and his group, the Cake POPs, would do their best to follow your every step, they wanted to make sure this concert was perfect! Popping Candy already watches your performances on repeat, so he’s got an idea of how you perform!

His other group members would be greatly appreciative if you chose them to collaborate with!

Let him take a breather, wow, it’s just, he was actually talking to you, THE Y/N Cookie, an idol he’s been following for a long while now!

Could you perhaps…sign his forehead?

Dumpling sighed, that was her cue. She politely requested Popping Candy to make his leave, but to avoid making him upset, she tried a roundabout approach.

“Uhh, right. Thank you for your time, Popping Candy Cookie. We’ll keep in touch if you get picked, so give Y/N Cookie some time to think about it.”

Ah! Of course, Popping Candy understood! He got up and headed on out, he needed to practice on his choreography and singing some more! Dumpling wiped her forehead as she shook her head, what was going on today..

The most popular for last, Shining Glitter made her entrance by shaking hands with you, saying how she became a quick fan of you after listening to your songs on the radio. The way you sang just enraptured her!

She was a super star, but in her eyes, you were the star that shined as brightly as ever with how you were on stage! She found herself wanting to dance to your rhythm!

She scooted closer to you as she took your hand into hers, saying how this was probably your first collaboration and so it would be an honor if she was the first cookie you partnered with, it would mean lot. This sent alarm bells for Dumpling Cookie.

Both of you were popular stars, so it only makes sense that you two were paired together. Fans from both sides would just LOVE to see you two perform on the same stage.

They were naming a street after her, she’s considering including your name in it too as a token of your beautiful partnership with her!

Like with Popping Candy, she has a bunch of your merchandise she shows off on her social media, nabbing the higher end ones like Y/N Cookie-branded pillows, plushies, party sets, etc. Even a copy of your very first track release, it was incredibly rare!

Sorry if this seemed out of nowhere, but it would be a funny to see the possible ship names the fans would make for you two. Shining Y/N Cookie? Y/N Glitter Cookie? The possibilities were infinite!

Line was drawn, Dumpling requested that Glitter make her way home. Shining Glitter was genuinely confused with this, was it something she said? Shining Glitter would not budge as she refuted what Dumpling was trying to tell her.

“Ms. Glitter, you need to make way for the next cookie in line-“

“What? What do ya mean “next cookie”? Was my proposal not good enough to get selected right away? Who else was there to choose besides me?”

“Plenty of other cookies, you’re not the only one making it in this line of work. Simply, I don’t care if you’re popular, Y/N Cookie will not be working with any cookie who’s this forceful and arrogant.”

“I want to hear it from Y/N Cookie themselves, Y/N, would you like to have this partnership with me?”

Dumpling was doing her best to push back, but Glitter got uncomfortably close when asking that it made look to the side awkwardly.

Well…

“You’re, like, already popular enough, I should be the cookie they collaborate with!”

Parfait Cookie at the door?! DJ too?! Wait, they’re all here?!

“They’re good in the singing business, they just need the right cookie with the sickest beats, that’s where I come in and whisk them off their feet!”

“Your tunes are soulless, rock and roll is the way to go, baby!

“So many cookies here..will Y/N Cookie still choose me after all this?”

“A cookie of their standing only deserves an equal to that, don’t ya see that it’s me who can fulfill that?”

Dumpling Cookie grew increasingly agitated the more the group of cookies bickered, this was no way to act in front of you.

She had to angrily call for security to escore all the cookies out of the premises.

————————————————————————

The cookies waited in the lobby, sat down and lamenting on the events from earlier.

“We messed up, didn’t we? I hope Y/N Cookie isn’t too mad at us…”

“Parfait: I do admit to losing my cool there, it’s just…I look up to them so much, that sharing the stage would be a dream come true. I should’ve assumed it was the same for everyone else, regardless of fame.”

“Hear hear, the fire in my heart was so passionate that it clouded my mind…”

“Shining Glitter: I do admit that I was actin’ unprofessional back there, a part of me…wanted Y/N Cookie to like me as more then just being a superstar, but as me…”

The door leading into the lobby opened, revealing you and Dumpling Cookie as you made your way to them. Dumpling’s cold state boring into the eyes of the cookies made them want to avert their eyes from the intensity.

“Y/N Cookie has taken it into consideration…and they’re just not interested in any of you. Thank you for your time and actually make your leave from here.”

The cookies gasped in horror before you poked Dumpling in the shoulder with a pout.

Heyyy, you didn’t say that. Come on now, Dumpling.

“What? Am I not allowed to have a little fun?”

Broooo. Anyway, you corrected Dumpling’s little joke by stating that to avoid any discourse and bitterness from the other cookies, you’ve decided…that you accept everyone’s offer to collaborate. Let’s shoot for the moon with so much talent onboard!

Everyone was taken aback! They were so sure that they’ve messed up their chances by the little squabble from earlier, they didn’t expect you to have the opposite reaction in any capacity!

Well, the stage was for anyone, and considering how each and every one of them said they were a fan of you, you figured why not and decide to make this one grand collaboration of all different types of talent! The manager was certainly happy and excited with this idea, so if they’re willing, you were down with it.

They saw the opportunity and JUMPED for it

“Yeah, Y/N! Let’s make some killer music, baby!”

“I won’t let ya down, Y/N Cookie. I promise ya my beats will pump up the crowd!”

“Y-yes, I’d love to! I really need to practice now to match you!”

“Shining Glitter: Let’s be glorious stars together, Y/N Cookie!”

“Parfait: Wow, just wow! I’m, like, totally excited for this! I feel like my toppings wil melt!”

Dumpling Cookie rolled her eyes at the other cookies with a smile, you always did have a kind sway over cookies to have them get along. Sure, you weren’t as hard on them as she would’ve been, but it just showed how much of a giving cookie you were. And that’s what she loved about you.

————————————————————————

“Welcome back, cookies! We have a special performance today! Y/N Cookie is not making an appearance alone tonight! We at Star Jelly Records would like to announce our special guests! Rockstar Cookie!”

“Are you cookies ready to rock?! WHOO!”

“Parfait Cookie!”

“Paru-paru-PARFAIT! Are you cookies ready for sweet melodies!”

“DJ Cookie!”

“DJ Cookie here and I’m gonna drop the beat!”

“The Cake POPS!”

“We’re honored to be singing alongside Y/N Cookie! Here’s to a great concert with you all!”

And gracing the stage alongside them, Shining Glitter Cookie!

“Can you make some noise, cookies?! We can’t hear you!”

The crowd roars as you handled the mic, singing alongside Glitter, Parfait, and the Cake Pops while you played your tunes with Rockstar and DJ, all of them very much liking you giving them attention.

The manager behind the curtain was crying happy tears while Dumpling Cookie was waving a mini-flag of you as support.

Your mailbox will be crammed with fan letters, but hey, that’s the price to pay when you’re a superstar in this industry!

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sneakyblinders · 1 year

Text

urgent business. tommy shelby x reader

A/N: hi! new writer here for the peaky blinders! please enjoy this cheeky one shot. :)

Warnings: fluff, language, sexual themes, light spice. not canon for how our fav gangster would behave but i like to think this is how tommy would be if he found the right woman.

“Don’t you just hate how they’re always all over each other?” your eldest son, Peter said, face twisted in disgust. You, Tommy and your four children were supposed to be having a family walk through the gardens, but Tommy had other ideas, leaving your four children trailing behind, his arm wrapped around your waist, telling you funny things that made you cackle with laughter.

“No,” your second child, Katherine replied back. “I think it’s quite romantic.” she said, dreamily. “What’s romantic mean?” Isabel, tied for youngest with her twin brother, William asked, her little legs barely able to keep up with her older siblings. “Like--lovey dovey. You know what romantic is!” Katherine snapped at her. “I’m only five.” Isabel shot back in response. You turned around to see your children, and smiled at them, their father only looking at you. Only ever having eyes for you. Tommy adored his children. He would walk through fire and in front of a bullet for any of them, but you: his wife, his beloved. You were the breath in his lungs. Fire in his belly. Apple of his eye. His one true love. The one who gave him strength to wake up every morning. You pulled him out of the depths of his shell he had retreated into after the war. Made him remember who he was before. Helped calm his shattered nerves, shattered heart. You picked up the pieces and loved him back to life. And for that, he vowed he would spend the rest of his days loving, cherishing, ravishing and spoiling you to absolutely no end. Tommy said something else you found funny and you turned back to him, playfully hitting him on the chest. “Do you think they’ll have another baby?” William asked, cogs in his mind whirring. “I sure hope not. There’s too many of us already.” Peter sneered. “I think another brother would be nice.” William said, a smile on his face. Peter rolled his eyes. “Children!” Tommy called behind him as they approached the barn. “Your mother and I are going to go for a ride. We’ll be back shortly. No playing around the ponds, am I understood?” he said, expression stern. “Yes, father.” they all replied in unison. “Good.” he smiled at them before turning his attention back to you. You had jogged ahead of him a little ways, giddy with his boyish promises of ravishing you in the horse stall like he used to when you were first married. The children plopped down beneath an apple tree, a good distance away from the barn. Horses still frightened Isabel, despite their father’s attempts to dull her fear of them. He had tried riding with her and it had ended terribly; she screamed and cried, only spooking the horse. Tommy had to practically throw them both off the horse and tried to calm him down before throwing Isabel over his shoulder and walking the whole way back to the barn.

“Why do we never go riding with them?” Katherine asked quizzically to her older brother. “It’s their alone time, silly.” Peter responded sarcastically, plucking grass, blade by blade from the patch around him. “They’re always alone.” She responded, a pout on her face. “It’s because they can’t keep their hands to themselves.” Peter replied, a devious look on his face. “Don’t speak that way about them! Father would have your head if he heard you say that.” Katherine responded. Isabel and William were preoccupied with trying to catch a frog. “Can’t ever say anything poorly about mother,” Peter rolled his eyes. “He always yells when I do say something, even if she is wrong.” he said in disgust. “Mother is rarely wrong, Peter.” Katherine told him. “Yes, but sometimes, she is and he never lets me tell her my side of what I see. It bothers me.” Peter threw the blades of grass into the wind. At that moment, their parents emerged on their fathers favorite horse, a huge black stallion with a white patch on his left side. Their parents both looked rather disheveled. You rode in front of Tommy, his arms and legs caging you in, holding you tightly against him. Moments before, he had pushed you up against the stall door of the barn, hands needy as he tugged at the neckline of your blouse. “Thomas,” you said weakly, out of breath from his kisses against your lips, pulse point, collarbones. “Thomas, not when the children are so close.” “My love,” he rasped, grabbing your backside. “We’ve done far worse with them far closer.” “Tonight, you may have your way with me.” you promised him, kissing his nose. He gave you a devious smirk before leading the horse out of his stall.

A half hour later, you and Tommy returned. “Go see to the children while I put ‘em away.” He told you, helping you down from the horse. You nodded, walking back towards your children. “Mother! Did you see if any of our flowers have bloomed yet?” Isabel asked. A few weeks ago you and your daughters had planted some wildflower seeds in a field close to where you keep the garden. “They haven't bloomed yet, but I did see some small, green stems!” you told her excitedly. “Where’s father?” Peter asked, standing up. “Just putting the horse in his stall. He’ll be here soon.” “Do you think he’d play ball with us today?” he asked. “I’m not sure, son. I think he may need to go back to his office, but why don’t you ask him when he comes out?” you hated disappointing your children, but more often than not, Tommy had very few spare hours to spend with his children. Much to your dismay, most of their waking hours were spent with their tutors and the nanny. You and Tommy were often busy with business. “Ask me what?” Tommy asked, coming up behind you and taking a hold of your hand. “If you would play ball with us this afternoon.” Peter said. Tommy looked at you nervously for a moment. “I don’t have anything pressing to attend to today. Why not!” Peter and William cheered. “Can I play?” Isabel asked. Peter rolled his eyes. “She can be on my team.” Tommy told his eldest, who started to walk back towards the house.

When you got back to the house, Tommy, your sons and Isabel stayed outside to play while you and Katherine went back inside the house to get some lemonade, cheese and crackers for a snack. “Mother, do you love Daddy?” she asked. You smiled to yourself. “Very much. What would make you ask such a question?” “Just wondering.” she responded dreamily.

That night, after all your children were safely tucked away in their beds, Tommy began working on the promise you had made him in the horse barn. “Gotta be quiet, love.” he rasped in your ear, his hand between your legs. You bit back a moan. “Thomas,” you whined. “Sh...” he chuckled, pushing your nightgown further up your hips. You were in fact, not quiet that evening. Your husband was good at many things, and delivering pleasure filled nights was one of his favorite pastimes. You woke up the next morning, sore between your legs, but an unmistakable glow about you. Tommy loved lying in bed with you, watching you gradually come to life in the mornings. “Good morning, my love.” he whispered, pulling you into his chest. “Good morning,” you yawned, curling into him. “Sleep well, my queen?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You mumbled a yes. He chuckled. “You seemed thoroughly exhausted by the time you did fall asleep.” “I was.” you chuckled, cheeks flushing. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he smiled down at you, heart swelling in his chest. “I loved every second.” You heard what sounded like a stampede of footsteps, followed by the bedroom door being flung open, and the nanny screeching, “No, no, no!” Three of your children bounded in the room and launched themselves into bed with the two of you. “Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, I am so sorry!” The nanny stammered, trying not to look at your almost bare forms, barely hidden by blankets and sheets. You and Tommy laughed. You were glad you both had decided to slip some scraps of clothing on before you fell asleep the night before. “It’s no bother, Sara.” you chuckled. Tommy had Isabel and William pinned down, ticking both of them at the same time. “They’re late for their lessons.” she fussed, cheeks flushing hot, seeing Tommy’s chest bare. “That’s alright. They can work a little later into the afternoon today.” you told her as Katherine snuggled into your neck. “Good morning, my girl.” you cooed at her. William and Isabel had managed to overpower their father, who was now being held down by both of them. “My love, help!” he laughed, playing into their game of play fighting as they tickled his stomach. You grinned at your eldest daughter. “You reckon we ought to help Daddy?” you asked her. “Take it like a man, father!” William laughed, causing Tommy to laugh harder than you’d heard him laugh in a long time. “Okay, okay, okay, I surrender! I am waving the white flag!” Tommy said, breathlessly. “What do I have to do as your prisoner?” Isabel and William looked at each other, a sneaky look on their faces. “We’d like chocolate biscuits for lunch.” You gave him a smile. “Very well then. Small price to pay for my freedom.” he said. “Sara, see to it that they get chocolate biscuits for lunch, please.” he told the blushing maid, who was still frozen in place. “Yes, sir, Mr. Shelby.” she said. “Alright, children, let your mother and I get dressed. We’ll see you shortly.” Tommy told them, pressing a kiss to each of their heads. Sara ushered them out of the room quickly, closing the door behind them. Tommy flopped back down on the bed, still trying to catch his breath. “That was fun.” he chuckled. “Do you reckon they heard us last night?” you ask, eyeing him as he reached for a cigarette. “You mean heard you?” he asked, chest rumbling with laughter. “We need a bigger house.” you groan burying your face in his chest. “You can have whatever you want, my love.” “I’m not gonna ask ‘er!” you overheard your oldest daughter screech to your younger one. “Fine, I’ll ask Daddy.” you heard William say as they walked down the hall to where you were sitting, sewing a quilt. Thomas sat next to you on the loveseat, reading the paper. “Daddy,” your youngest son said, standing in the doorway. “Daddy I have urgent business.” he said. Tommy chuckled, setting the paper down in between the two of you. “Yes, son?” “It’s--it’s mans business.” he said confidently. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of your mother, son.” Tommy said sternly. “Your mother is as much a part of this business as I am.” “Well,” William said, digging his little hands into his pockets. “Do you love Mother?” he asked. “Of course I love your mother. Isn’t that obvious?” he chuckled. “Well--we thought so but then last night there was a lot of shouting. And we figured she was upset at you because she kept shouting your name like she was upset with you. And sounded like she was crying.” he said. “We were--we were worried, that’s all, Daddy.” All of the blood drained from your face, heart hammering with anticipation of how your husband would explain this one to your son, and daughters who were eavesdropping. Tommy rubbed a hand over his face. “Son--” “I tried to tell ‘em, Dad. Tried to tell ‘em they would understand when they were older.” Your eldest, Peter chimed in from behind the other three. “Understand what, exactly, Peter?” your husband asked, eyes serious. “The love between a husband and a wife.” Peter said matter-of-factly, shooting his dad a knowing look. “Yes, Peter. Sometimes, the love between a husband and wife can be so--intense--” your husband paused, searching for a cigarette. “That it causes them to shout.” You stifled a giggle, clearing your throat to distract yourself. “Mother, are you certain you’re alright?” Your youngest son asked. “Of course, lovey. Your father is right. I love him very much.” you said, smiling gently at him. “Right, well, go run along now, please.” Tommy said, sitting back in his spot on the loveseat. The three youngest children scurried off, but your eldest remained. “Thank you, son.” Tommy sighed. “Keep it down next time, will ya? I can only answer so many questions before they aren’t satisfied with what I tell ‘em.” Peter said, giving his father a stern look. “Yes, Peter, I will do my best to contain myself from now on.” “You too, Mother.” your son shook his finger at you. “Careful how you speak to her.” Tommy warned. “Yes, Sir, Mr. Shelby.” you smiled. Peter shook his head, turning on his heels and walking out of the room. You and Tommy shared an embarrassed look before chuckling to yourself. “Thank God for Peter. Fifteen going on fifty, eh?” he sighed. “Thank God for Peter.” you agreed, smiling at your husband.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tom shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #sneakyblinders

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