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#dark!reader
darlingofvalyria · 7 months
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❝I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage. I will not be swept aside.❞
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[ The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should have known his wife better— or at least, her ire, for when his trysts with the bastard Snow reached the Spiders and soon, the ears of his Princess Consort, rage and war drummed for Winterfell, demanding heads.
—Maestre Kevan, Volume IV of The Bastard Eater, passage chapter under 'The Flame that Sung for the North'. ]
[ +18 MDNI ] [ 10,062 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), one-sided aegon ii x reader, jace x sara snow
contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader, targcest, smut, angst - post-vizzy t death, rhaenyra is queen - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - allusions to infidelity & character death(s) - targaryen madness, revenge, domestic violence (not jace), unhinge behaviour, intense use of 'bastard', profanity, gaslighting, guilt-tripping - this is basically gone girl, you gone girl jace - dark fic - mentions of depression (aegon ii), allusions to suicide (not reader) - nsfw: oral (f receiving), breeding kink, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.
a/n— i didn't think i was going to do the sara snow thing, but herewe are. also i just wanted an excuse to go absolutely ape shit. reader gets very intense, like thoroughly unhinged. this is literally me supporting women's wrongs. it is also quite insane that this reached 10k and it's still just the first part lmaooo + comment, reblog & like at will!
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"THAT FUCKING BASTARD! THAT GODSDAMNED, WHORE-FUCKING STRONG HALF BREED!"
Your shrieks echo stone and shadow, interrupted only by the things you pick up and hurl. Anything your hands grab, you throw and spit obscenities against, rage and tears ruin your pretty visage. The fury swept past your cherub features, a dragon breaking through the Hightower seams, upending fire and roar from the pits of your being.
"HOW DARE HE?! I GAVE HIM AN HEIR! I BROUGHT HIM PEACE! I BETRAYED—" you roar, pulling your pearl dagger— a gift from your Strong Bastard of a Husband — and throwing it to your vanity mirror, glass shards exploding. "— MY KIN!"
"DAUGHTER, PLEASE!"
Arms wound across your torso—hardened and chain-mail — as you fight against your bounds before a pain flashes to your cheek. Your rage quiets, hard breaths from your lungs. You turn your tear-stained anger to your mother and her palm, fright and terror on her regale visage.
Death of a spouse becomes the Queen Dowager in her pale blue robe and unbound spirals of auburn hair. Peace had begotten a realm that is balanced on the lineage you had produced for the Queen, her heir, and your own, as the new Princess of Dragonstone. With Otto Hightower for evermore banished to Oldtown, Kings Landing had been brought to a flowering kindness.
Queen Rhaenyra's ascension had been a wondrous affair, fit the for the first crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not a Queen Consort, not a Queen Regent. An heir who rose for the crown always meant to be hers.
But the calamity that brewed in her ascension... no. You paved the peace. T'was you who wrangled the Great Houses that proved allyship to your twin brother's banner, you who blessed her with tranquility of a rule that will be known for ages that will precede you all.
And now her son... her son dared to destroy everything.
A conversation floats above your head, by your Queen Mother and her sworn shield, the Ser Cole, but you barely hear anything past the ringing in your head.
The Targaryen Madness the sheep so call it, an idle voice, faint and familiar, whispers in the niches of your brain. It has infected you so. It breathes, fuelled by the air wrought by your husband's betrayal. It sings, sweet love. It sings.
"—your grace, I urge to hold her—"
"—she is my daughter, Ser Cole, I am not in danger. Release her."
Justice, the voice shrieks? Screams? But it is so soft in your head, a wail of a memory, a woman or a man? must be had. No dragon falls in such disgrace.
The tight wound over your torso is unleashed but the knight is not far, tensed to cage you, when your mother grasps your elbows as you grab hers, nails digging into the thick fabric of her hem that she still winces, your grip steel-tight.
"My darling, please. I cannot help you if you do not speak what ails you." She brushes her hand desperately across your face, smearing your tears, trying to find the daughter she bore past the savagery and madness that beholds you now. "What has happened?"
You draw a tightened, harsh breath to your lungs, rattling your bones that you quiver in your attempt for sanity.
"I am being shamed, mother," you whisper. Stark, violet eyes meeting the worried round, brown of hers. "The Strong bastard is whoring himself to another, a Northern bastard."
A cackle falls your lips as alarmed gazes are exchanged above your head.
"Y-You cannot say such things aloud, sweet girl," your mother hushes your madness, pulling you close to her chest as she shoots a glance at the door.
Criston checks outside, but only your maids linger. Dyanna presses a finger against her lips, catching the knight's eye, and the rest scatter, surely to make sure that no one that need not know of their mistress' words is within reach. A shiver still runs his spine. He will never get used to the quiet, almost non-verbal way your connection worked and reached. Your Spiders weave webs all around, even as their mistress sunders with rage.
"Mayhaps you are mistaken, for sure the prince is loyal, and he adores you—"
You pull back against her, teeth bared. She flinches and Ser Cole steps forward, wary. "It is the third missive now that I have received. Did you think I would not have confirmed twice— thrice? I didn't believe it the first time! But three people have now confirmed that all this time, in the guise of rallying his mother's cause in the North, he is spending ample time with the Lord Stark's bastard sister. His bastard fucking sister!"
Your mother's horror catches that of Ser Criston's, but your fury is your own, you are a dragon trapped in the ruin of your own making, of the webs you had spun so cleverly to get to this point, and you cannot stop.
"I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage, my blood spilled the birthing bed for it." A cry leaves your lips as your grief and rage pools like ichor from your chest to the floor. Alicent is torn away from you— your nails had gone through her robe and she had cried in pain, a mimick of your own, a mother to a daughter to a mother to a daughter, a cycle, an Ouroboros — and you fall to the floor, grasping at your chest.
"I will not be swept aside. I will not be ignored."
A gasp falls from your lips as your mind moves to a quiet, still place. The tremble fades, your rage and grief whirls, collects, as you push it all back inside your chest.
Your madness must be sharpened for it be used as a sword.
And you cannot let him be happy in another's arms.
If you cannot drag them to the Hells, sweet dragon, the idle voice hums, hisses? Screeches. Your ancestors— all of those who have succumbed to dreamy madness — appears in the corners of your vision like soldiers. Awaiting for you to join them. Awaiting the blood that you will spill.
Then you must raise the Hells unto Winterfell.
"...my daughter?" Alicent calls, hesitant. Cole hovers but does not approach, standing guard in protection of the Dowager. It breaks her heart to see you this way, a young woman still, much older than she was when she married but only because you had always sought your future. You had always had a hardened scale, far stronger than she.
Even when you made your entrance to the world— the unmeasurable pain of bringing not one, but two heirs into the world, her firstborns, all at once — you had never cried. The maestres, maids, they worried for you, as your twin brother had not stopped crying, so alive and red, raw from the wound of being fresh.
But you... you had not made a sound.
The entire weight of your being— your mind, your emotions — even then, you wrangled them close to your very centre, never letting them stray too far from the edges of your fingertips. As if any release must be made with a perused thought. An incentive of reason.
Even then, you plotted every step you took.
Now, Alicent watches as her firstborn daughter suctions all her emotions— that Targaryen madness that plagued the blood of her husband, his ancestors — and made her ploy.
Against the husband that dared make a fool of her.
The silence beckons nightmare. Old fear flickers inside the Queen Dowager.
"Where are my daughters?"
"What?"
"My daughters," you repeat, a hair's breadth louder than the first time you spoke. Your eyes flutter upward. The deadened gaze curled Alicent's heart in fear. "Where are they?"
"In the nursery, with the twins and Maelor. Helaena and Aegon are watching them."
You offer your hand up mutely, and Cole exchanges one last, lingering look with the Dowager, before offering his own. You stand up, thank him softly, and brush and clean up your face to the best of your ability. An utter calmness over your visage.
"Tell no one of what I had told you," you say, fixing your hair and rubbing the red from your cheeks. One minute there is madness, the next there is nothing. There is only a girl. A woman. A princess. "No one knows apart the three of us, and if you ever decide, Ser Criston, that nigh is the glorious time for you to betray my mother or I, know that the last thing thing oyu will fear is the Stranger's hand when I am through with you."
Your mother shouts your name, horrified. "What are you thinking? What are you plotting?"
You cup Alicent's face, smiling ever sweet. "Your innocence will keep you safe, mother. All I ask, for the heart you keep for your children, that you keep this between sealed lips and tilted chin. You know nothing, yes?"
"... Yes. Nothing."
You place a tender kiss on your mother's head. "Keep Daenera and Aemma safe for me. Aegon and I are flying to Dragonstone promptly. Sweet Helaena does ever so get overwhelmed by watching all of the children by herself."
"D-Dragonstone?"
Your sweet smile touched with poison, stretches. "It is high time I take a dragon for myself, don't you think so?"
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While an insecure obsession had fraught your younger brother about claiming a dragon, you had met it with indifference.
For how can you not mourn the loss of Aemond's sight, staring in quiet horror the entire time as the maestre did his best to salvage the muck mess of blood and nerve endings, before the old man had shaken his head, and you turned to the small bowl that contained your brother's eye, unable to look at anything else.
Not even when your mother's rage was met with apathy and anger, her demands for justice nothing more than a woman's insanity, a mother's grief that must be swept away, tucked under a chin and a sadness she will never get rid of.
"Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."
Your soft-hearted, darling, baby brother. None of his words had thawed the freezing of your heart, the grief under the swell of your breastbone.
Your own mourning was kept between teeth and tongue, as you had slept with your siblings that night. The four of you, tucked under the wing of the other, Aemond close to your chest as possible, as quiet, hot tears ran down your face. Every moan of pain or whimper he made in his sleep tore at each new vein inside of you.
"Dragons are the symbol of our House's power," Aegon had once said, windswept hair you tried to tame with your fingers, smelling fresh of Sunfyre and winds.
"And yet, there were no eggs in our child beds." He stiffened while you smiled sadly, curling your twin's hair away form his face, making him presentable and dusting the bout of sand that managed to find his leathers. You had been scolded long before by your grandsire of how you coddle Aegon, how you defend him, mother him more than your mother ever could, but you cannot stop. You were meant to care for him, tethered you once were inside your mother's womb together, you hold him steady now.
Whenever he was lost, whenever his sadness overtook him, wrung your brother dry of life, you bat the Stranger's hand and bring him back.
"But we have proved them wrong," he insisted. "All of us, even Aemond with Vhagar— the war queen, Visenya's dragon — we have claimed ours. Daeron all the way Oldtown has Tessarion, even Helaena has Dreamfyre. And yet you insist..."
You wound your arms over his torso, keeping him close in a silly hug where you sway and dance him around. A laugh escaped him while you inhaled the scent of smoke, soot, and that grime stench of beast.
Aegon on his good days lacked the bottle-edge of wine, of cheap salts from the waft of the soiled, Silk Streets.
This was your brother. No one else.
"I fare better without one," you whispered in his ear. "I appear innocent, sweet almost, without a beast in my command. They look at me with nothing but pity and the urge to protect me. Our father likes me like this, his poor, lovely daughter without a dragon of her own, listening so intently to his histories of Old Valyria. Our sister is eased, as one daughter is plagued by dreams and struggles with the real world, while the other cannot even claim a dragon of her own. Poor princess, Hightower blood must have thickened in her veins. She too, is no threat."
You pulled back, smiling at him. "They like me better like this. Pitiful, compliant, nothing but a sweet and pretty flower that sways in the Spring breeze. A beautiful decoration but no more."
He rubbed a thumb on your arm, a worry knot on his forehead. Aegon adored you but he struggled to piece together where your plot lies. You are a web-spinner, forever dancing out of reach, catching prey and lengthening your intricacies. "Is that why you hide your training with Aemond alone? Ser Criston is mother's sworn shield, he would not mind—"
"I will not place my secrecies to a knight with a soiled cloaked," you snorted. "No matter how tall he stands beside our mother. I trust no one but my kin. And I know that no matter how heavy you drink, sweet Aeg of mine, my secrets are your own."
He took your hand, kissing the back of it, stare impregnable. "As your blood is my own, our fire is one flame. I go where you tell me to."
You kissed his cheek, a reward, laughing. He smiles proudly at the sound. At this time, you dangled yourself to your brother as bait as the pressure from your grandsire to make him King started rising. You had been given notice that he had been talking to House Lannister, Wylde, even some Riverland lords.
You did not mind becoming Aegon's second wife. Just as his namesake, he will have his Rhaenys and Visenya. Unlike the Conqueror however, he would adore his Visenya more than a true flower. Helaena would enjoy that far better.
"And if I tell you to jump?" you half-purred.
"I will ask you how high."
Memories and choices break and tide as you scramble for hold on the rocky cliff face. Dragonmont in the dark is a behemoth beast, a screech or two breaking like lightning crackles, or the familiar drum beat of wings before the silence consumes once more. The stench of fire, of beasts and carcasses helps cloak the darkened night.
"Udligon ñuha brōzagon, Answer my call," you hiss into fraudulent emptiness, hands gripping rocky edges until your blood beads, "you fucking lizards."
"Have you gone mad!?"Aegon shouted, trying to pace with your run to the dragonpit.
A rocky laugh broke out from your being, not deigning that with a reply. Aegon huffed angrily.
"Alright, tell me this then. How are you so sure I'm not just about to put you on a bleeding volcano to die? We claim your dragon in the morn, sister. First thing before we break our fast. I'm sure by then, Vermithor or—"
You whipped your head around, pulling halt. "I leave tonight to claim my dragon. Whether it is you and Sunfyre who gets me there, or Aemond and Vhagar, is no matter to me. I will claim one tonight. It is up to you to decide now if we tell Aemond or not."
Aemond, whose anger is wounded tight, the barest excuse for war always at the edge of his hum. The misstep at Storm's End had cost him everything. Had cost your mother everything. Queen still, Alicent Hightower had bent the knee and offered her life in exchange for mercy. Before Rhaenyra passed judgement, Viserys I had passed.
It didn't matter that you had ensured a higher dosage from the Harrenhal witch in his usual milk of the poppy. Your spiders moving with ease through the silent channels you had established long before your own flowering.
The Red Keep had scrambled, the Heir with it. It was enough time for Lucerys to have come out of the red, confirmed to live through the worst of it without as much as a broken bone. Arrax however, had been badly maimed, and would no longer take flight. But he and his rider would live. Aemond would live. Alicent would have her son. Rhaenyea will have hers, and the crown.
Kevan had done his duty unto you while you settled the storms in Dragonstone. You rewarded him handsomely.
Aegon sighed. He too, would like your honour avenged, but not for the sake of war. "As you wish, sister. I hope you know what you're doing and I am not about to send you to your death."
Just like what you did to your mother, you reached forward and cupped his face. If before, your touch stills his heart and floods his cavities with warmth, a flash of fear strikes the twin son at the eerie smile on your face.
"Skoros morghot vestri? What do we say to the god of death?"
Aegon blinked. "Tubī daor. Not today."
You smiled. "Trust me, sweet Aeg. It is not my death the Stranger will take. Not until the fjords of the North are at my mercy."
"Iksan kesīr sir naejot māzigon ñuha sikagon pakto! I am here now to claim my birth right!" Your scream echoes and falls, repeating back to you. There is a hum, like an electric current that sizzles and pops inside your blood and marrow, and you scramble higher and higher on the rock. Your blood does not sing for the dragon lairs, but above. Up and up, jagged edges cut your skin and dress, the wind whipping with sea mist, but nothing, no one, can clamour you as you reach the peak.
At first you see nothing but darkness and hollow sounds. But you let your eyes adjust, a hiss breaking out of your dry lips as you stumble. You look down. What you first thought were rocks and wayward bones of cattle is bigger.
Whale? No.
Dragon. Dragon bone.
You look and will every sense that your eyes do not. The smell that is drowned— iron. Bones bigger than a person. Than cows and whales. Bones of fearsome beasts. Darkness moves, taking form, more than shadow. Scales hewn rough and jagged, as if stone themselves. Midnight black moving with the gentlest of sighs.
As soon as you realise what— or who — is in front of you, the eyes open with an intelligent gleam. Your heart jolts at the emerald irises that gaze back at you, slitting at the appearance of a human.
'The stench of death follows him', the voice of an old keeper hums into your ear. You no longer remember who told this to you, but the words ring true in your memory. 'Scales of midnight, as if hewn from darkness and death. A harbinger, your grace, an omen of the darkest nightmares.'
"Rytsas. Hello." You smile, ever sweet, ever charming.
This is a thread you had never felt before. Not one of your own making, but something older. A golden thread that led the eyes of Daenys the Dreamer. That spun the ties of Aegon the Conqueror. The voices that herded your madness had gone quiet in the mad rush to get here, but now their presence thickens. Words you cannot hear, nor understand, flood the silence as dragon met rider for the first time.
Keepers and historians have called him he, but every bone in your body tells you that the being before you is a she.
And wouldn't that make sense? A cannibalistic being is a woman?
She opens her maw, only ever slightly, smoke and fire crackling out of it. Molten lava in the belly of her insides tease the cool, night air and warms you.
Her version of a smile. Hello, she seem to say.
"Māzīs. Come," you say, giggling. "Dohaerās. Serve."
That night, you took your first flight.
That night, the Cannibal took her first flight with her first— and only — rider as well.
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❝ . . . It is said that the formerly named "The Cannibal" had been entranced by the hunger of his new— first and evermore — rider. Prince Aegon the Elder who had escorted his twin sister that very night with Sunfyre, had looked up in alarm and fright to a maddened screech. Excitement and laughter pouring out from the newly bonded Dragon and Rider had soon turned fear into awe.
Gaelithox, she had been named as they had ridden until dawn broke by the rider who loved her 'till the end of their days, was said to have seen a mirror in Her Grace. The fathomless hunger for blood and organ from the same bodies of their kin. For Gaelithox ever hungers and satisfies for the same meat as her, at the height of her grief and ire that fuelled the Queen Consort to climb Dragonmont by hand, she too hungered for the throats of her traitorous blood.
Gaelithox will only have one rider in her whole life, as she found no same twin soul as akin in the Bastard Eater Queen. Their bond moved as if two bodies beheld one soul.
She shied from humans, and oft found too rough with other dragons. Vhagar was an exception, oft seen acting as an elder sister to the Queen's dragon when neither royal rode them and played in the skies. Smaller dragons were forbidden to approach her however, nor was she allowed in the dragonpit after almost devouring the flightless Arrax.
She died two moons after the Queen's death, delivering her final flames for her rider and would never more breathe her infamous green flames akin to Wildfire, ordered by the Crowned Heir, Princess Daenera Velaryon. It is said that the princess attempted to bond with the cannibalistic dragon but it refused.
The dragon spent her last moons in heartbreak, oft seen in Dragonstone and the Red Keep, circling her rider's most favourite places. Her final resting place is at the very top of Dragonmont from whence the Queen claimed her. It is said that the Queen's crown, the one the King Jacaerys had gifted her after the birth of their first sons, the Princes Laenor and Gaemon, is said to be placed there, as well as a portion of her ashes.
It is said that the King and the Queen's twin brother, the Prince Aegon, personally made the trek in remembrance.
It is widely suspected that Aelyx, Princess Daella's dragon, the youngest child of the King and Queen, may have been Gaelithox's only existing hatchling for he too is made of rough, midnight scales. The dragon that bred with her remains to be unknown. ❞
—Maestre Kevan Noratz, Volume X of The Life and Lies of the Emerald Flame, passage chapter under 'The Time of Hunger: Gaelithox'.
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You leave Gaelithox to a mournful goodbye on Dragonstone, pressing your forehead against her hard, scaly head, promising to come back, of exchanging her diet for fat, juicy whales, for more wind-whipped rides, before riding back on Sunfyre with Aegon. The younger dragon would not rise from the beaches in fear of the cannibalistic elder, but you made ensuring promises to teach Gaelithox not to chew your dearest brother's dragon.
You had gone most of your life without the feeling of a bond beneath you, warm and alive and wild, and the roar and stench that though new, felt so familiar in your ribcage— you will fly again. And with your brothers beside you. With Helaena and her lovely Dreamfyre.
To think they had taken this from you too, to placate them. To play into their hands like a mewling kitten.
No more.
It is paces before fast is about to break when you both touch back down to Kings Landing. The Keep busying with its occupants, servants and maids bolstering with quickened feet to ensure the lords and royals are awakened with full, poached meals, dresses and coats readied for their lords and ladies, a new, glorious day under the Reign of the Black Queen.
"What now?" Aegon asks, trying to keep with your pace but he is fatigued, failing to stop his yawns. The excitement of last night had come upon him like a fog, and he is missing his bed. Hells, he is missing the bed he stays with his wife if it meant he would get a full night's sleep in the hours of the day.
"Now, we speak nothing of what happened."
He turns to you, frowning. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." You beam, nodding in favour of soldiers and maids who bow in reverence to the Crown Princess. You know you smell of dragon and night, and you need a bath. And to talk to Dyanna before you seek your daughters. "I will need time and people. The board must still be set for me to perfectly execute what I have in store."
"Alright." He yawns again. "I'll be in my quarters, passed out, if you need me. Please do not need me until sup."
You laugh breathlessly, grabbing his hand and giving it a wet kiss. "I will give you your rest, be assured. Kirimvose, dōna lēkia, Thank you, sweet brother."
The words are simple, said in a quiet murmur heavy with love and meaning. Aegon presses a loving kiss to your head, unable to stop himself winding an arm around you.
"Syt ao, va moriot, ñuha prūmia. For you, always, my heart."
As you break to each other's chambers— his, to sleep, you, already meeting Yna and requesting for a bath — you don't notice the lurker that watched the intimate moment between twins, humming in amusement before it moves to follow you.
Back in your quarters— your marriage quarters as Jacaerys had requested that you forgo having your own, not wishing to part with you — the maids are already busying themselves airing the room, moving to follow your usual routine. The only thing breaking it is the tub now in the centre.
"Thank you," you say to Yna as she picks out the pins from your hair, shrugging off your dress in the process as soon as the maids had untangled the lace behind you.
"Call for Dyanna," you tell them as they bow and leave, the door clicking softly behind them. Plans must be made. Bath for now.
With the world stifled for a second, left with only you and your thoughts, you plunge your body under too-hot water, sighing  against the aches and pains in your body. Dragon-riding is a new endeavour to your muscles, and though enjoyable, was still too new.
You sigh as tears fall from your eyes, blinking exhaustedly against soft, humming daylight. You had always known that love, as it is, is a maiden's folly. A foolish, hapless play meant to fool young girls into thinking the world is kind; a pretty place.
It was an even farther thought from you, a princess of the realm. At a young age, it has been drilled to you that your womb is a rare commodity. Your body has never been your own, a piece meant to be moved in a bigger game that you are used for, not play.
You weren't stupid.
If there's a few things Otto Hightower had ever granted you, apart from gifting you his keen prowess in moving power beneath your fingertips, in hungering for more, for better— it is understanding what each person is, who they can be, how you can move them. A flatter, a flair, a push. As a man, there is much to be desired about your grandsire; he used people, used family to pursue power, but you can't truly fault him for that as you were the same.
You just took better care of the people under your wing.
And for Jace, you had banished him.
The worst part, you knew there was a good, fat chance you would care for the princeling. He was a kind man, a sweet man, and with a guiding hand, you could forge yourself the best husband for yourself as much as you can mould a great king and a wonderful father. Women's hands are ever carved to mould and prod men. We stand behind, a presence or a hand, an echo of power.
But your Jace had surpassed it all, and in the moons leading up to your present day, to giving him his heirs, two beautiful daughters, the promised full Valyrian colouring in the silver hair in Daenera, your eldest, the wide, violet gaze in Aemma— the name of his mother's mother, a request of him that you had kindly, graciously fucking agreed to — of course there is a part of you, the girlish, tender heart that you long thought you had buried to get here, would fall for the brown-eyed, wondrous man.
You sink deeper into the tub, sighing as you let yourself unravel—
When you feel it. A presence in your room. It's soft. Silent. Not a lot would feel as such, but as paranoid as you are, as you keep your spiders clean and pretty with your dewy-eyed webs— you know better.
Your mind runs with ideas on who it might be, and come to a few people. No true name rises. The Red Keep is flooded with spies and traitors. You test your luck, sitting up on the tub, raising an arm over the lip of it and flicking water with your fingertips.
"If you are here to kill me, I'm afraid it will be a lost cause."
He laughs, sardonic and edged and familiar, jetting a tingle down your spine.
Well. There's getting a calm bath.
"Perceptive as always, niece," he says, heavy footfalls approaching now that he has been caught. "I'm just here to say hello."
You raise your eyes, mouth curled but unsmiling at the man who acts as the biggest thorn to your plots. Daemon Targaryen has never fallen through your webs, on guard against your flatter, your push, or your flair. Of course, taking the position of his daughter might have forever burnt that road, but you would think he'd ease up just a little bit when his wife, the Queen, had warmed to you considerably.
Unlike your mother, you had never been hostile to your bitch of an elder sister. Just like your plots for Aegon and Jacaerys, and nodding along to thread your father had started but abandoned, foolishly thinking the realm would follow without him fully ensuring your sister's claim to the throne— you carefully maintained a polite farce with Rhaenyra.
Ultimately, this became a boon to you, as she had responded positively to your abrupt marriage to her son, even reminding her deranged guard dog of their own marriage. The cream to your lemon cake had been when you birthed Aemma, the Queen's most favourite grandchild thus far. When she was a babe, Rhaenyra was never far; almost, always holding your daughter, cooing at her cheeks, remarking her likeness to her namesake with pure fondness.
But Daemon Targaryen knew, in the deepness of his marrow, that there is something wrong with you.
"Hello," you answer primly. He laughs, leaning against the passage to your open balcony. "We could have had this elating greeting at fast, if you wish to break it with me and my own."
He scoffs, unable to hide his disdain at the thought. It breaks his stare of your naked visage. Men. "I would rather jump to the fighting pits, good daughter."
"How rude. Is that all?" You meet his gaze steadily, tilting your head. "If it is not obvious yet, good father, I am bathing."
An amused smirk. "I can see that." Lecherous fucking geezer. "No matter. I just have a... curious thought, a wonder I suspect you may be able to answer. See. Truly odd it is, for the keepers to alert me this morning that Sunfyre had taken a ride past the Hour of Owl." Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you do your best to keep your expression mildly irritated. "Not with one, drunken rider, but with another. It had taken them hours, only coming back when morning had already presented in the air."
He steps forward, slow, menacing, until he reaches the edge of your tub and crouches. Your gazes are still unmatched in height, defiant as yours might be.
"The distinct smell wafts them, a Keeper said, and one suspects that though one dragon left last night, two might have come back this morning for he had seen another fly away." His fingers dips into the water, swirling the steam without breaking eye contact. "I wonder if you know anything about it, darling niece of mine."
The mocking emphasis is not lost on you. If the Queen is the Realm's Delight, you were Darling of the Realm. A sweet, merry girl, the secondborn daughter of Viserys I who frequently fought for the plight of the small folk, who gathered friends of all kinds of lords and ladies no matter the standing of their houses to her own, visiting far lands and charming every person in any room. Who made any feast brighter, always sparkling, always the darling.
Less of a dragon, more of a fairytale.
You sit up, leaning, baring your breasts completely to him as you pull yourself up on the ledge he is crouched from. He leans back, only slightly, as you smile demurely. Sweet. Tart. On the edge of pulling his head and hitting it against the copper tub.
"I am unsure of what you suspect, or is accusing me of, kepus, uncle," you purr and there's a twitch in his mouth, a widen in his irises— men are so fucking simple — "I had been feeling down last night, as my husband, as you know, is beyond my reach at the moment as he rallies alliances for the good of the realm. My brother had simply offered to take me out riding, trying to quell my loneliness with an excitable flight I had never been afforded."
You tilt your head. "Even if there had been a dragon binded to my own, why why would I not regale the realm with news of my success? I have longed for a dragon of my own, but alas, I have not quite succeeded where most of the family have." You pout. His eyes flicker. "Mayhaps I am more Hightower than I am Targaryen."
A huff leaves his lips, the amusement in his smile arching to his dark, dark gaze. Before you can react, his hand had comes forward to hold your chin in a tight grip, your jaw aching soon enough at the fingers that dig against your skin, wanting to bruise, to break.
Though a tremble passes your body, you keep his stare, gritting your teeth as the pad of his thumb brushes your lips. Moments and desires thrum between a charged hatred.
The lust is twisted from wanting to fuck you to wanting to kill you. The line is not simple. Maybe that is your fate together.
But he can't. You are well too ingrained in his family now, loved by the people he cared about. You are untouchable. For now. This is a warning, waiting for you to stutter, to show your hand. Any show of your true intentions... he is more than happy to swing Dark Sister across your throat.
He releases you without another word, standing up and leaving through the front door, the door clicking shut.
You sink back into the bath, letting the water engulf you.
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Your daughters are moons apart in birth, and there are only a few differences between them that people oft remarked they could be twins. Daenera is taller, spindly. Built like Aemond when he was younger. Her hair is spun moon and eyes of mullish blue. It reminds you of Daeron's eyes. You had named Daenera yourself, a gruelling birth that took the entire night. You promised Jacaerys he could name the second. He had chosen Aemma for a girl, Laenor for a boy.
Not a few moons later, you were with child again. Your husband pinked at the cheeks at the chiding from his family. When she cried into the afternoon sun—Aemma was born mid day, during a council meeting — he pain did not stop the laugh that came out of your mouth from the horrified expression from the Master of Coin as your water broke.
Aemma had a sweetheart face, cheeks much fatter than her older sister's, with a yellowish tinge to her hair, curlier too, reminding you of Aegon. And Aemma laughed more, her deep, violet eyes always half closed as she exploded in giggles and bright, sunshine happiness.
Sons they might not be, but you had given heirs for the throne. And for them, you would do anything to keep their futures intact. Bond with a dragon, face the Rogue Prince, upheave Winterfell. Anything.
You flounce to the nursery where you know the two would be, smiling sweetly at every person you pass as they bow in reverence. Most wore sights of confusion, their greedy eyes and wagging tongues drinking in the deep, emerald glisten of your gown.
It's an old dress, one you keep in the corner of your collection. It isn't as if you had forgo the colours of your mother's house, but playing court meant every movement, even the clothes you wear, can be meaningful. And since your marriage, your Jace liked you in Velaryon colours.
"A goddess come to bless," he gasped against your collarbone, keeping your legs high on his waist as he rutted into you before his teeth sunk on your skin. As newlyweds go, there is not a lot of teasing to be had for your husband to curl against you in a darkened alcove. Merely wearing his favourite colour on your skin has him panting like a dog. His favourite dress is a seafoam blue that dragged longer against the ground in a soft, almost-gossamer material with a silver belt.
Enticing him never took long, but you enjoyed the dance presented. You enjoyed the dark hunger that filled him until he grabbed you to take you because he just had to take you.
The fresh wound slices deeper as you imagine all the things Jacaerys is doing to the so called Sara Snow. The emerald green of your gown shimmers with your anger.
"Fucking bastards," you can't help but say aloud, nodding at the guards posted on the nursery as you hear the squeals of your daughter and the calm, even voice of your brother.
"Muña! Mother!" Aemma squeals, untangling herself from being pressed against Aegon's side as the children— Daenera and Jaehaera — cuddle around him, before running to you. Helaena is on the floor, entertaining baby Maelor. Your mother, hands twisting against her own, stands vigil by the window, staring far ahead.
You catch your secondborn, giggling as you pressed kiss after kiss on her face.
"I see everyone has started without me. Where is Jaehaerys?"
"You were late, sodjisto, aunt," Jaehaera grins gummily. Jahaera is only a year older than Daenera. Your daughters, five and a half and five respectively. "Jaehaerys is with kepus, uncle. They are training."
"Smart girl." You meet your brother's gaze, whose eyes had notably been staring at your dress, mouth turned down. "Why don't you three play with Helaena? I shall speak about Name Day gifts for your Uncle Joffrey for a bit, hm?"
As Aemma shrieks something about cakes, and Daenera dutifully kissing your cheek in greeting before she takes Jaehaera's hand, you turn to your brother and mother.
"Aemond?" you ask softly, keeping your voice out of earshot. Alicent shakes her head. You nod. "Good. We don't want him inciting a war before I have mine properly planned."
As the Dowager draws in a sharp inhale, Aegon grabs your hands, the worry pulled taunt in his eyebrows. "Are you seriously contemplating war, sister? Isn't there a better way to punish them?"
"What punishment does a man regale in?" you hiss, stepping close to him. "Or the Queen's heir for the bloody matter? When Aemond nearly killed Lucerys, and he confronted me as if I had ordered Vhagar to tear through his brother, I thought I had put to bed any doubts in our marriage. It seems that men stray, regardless. My daughters may be his heir now, but what is to say that bastard wildling he's found himself cock deep in produces a son? Will he shame me with a mistress? Or will he shame me with a second wife?"
Your mother's lips tightens, her fingers paling at how tight she is gripping her nerves.
"Bastard or not, if he takes her to wife, I will be nothing. Make that babe a son, and the realm will rally for it. Daenera is his heir. My daughters will not be forgone. I will not be pushed aside. This is mercy, brother," you say softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "My last one. It requires time, moons, to unfurl. It requires seeding doubt and unfathomable inadequacy. Better if Aemond is none the wiser, Helaena the same. But I will need both of you for this to work. It is the only time I will ever ask. For me. For my daughters."
"And you will punish Winterfell with a war?" your mother asks, frown pulled deep. "That is the plan?"
"I will not. I won't do such a thing so blatant, mother, you know me better than that. But this is my last mercy, and it will be the last. For the next time he offends me so, I do not care if Rhaenyra feeds me to Syrax. I will put a dagger through his heart, heir or not."
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The Prince Jacaerys comes back not a week later. Though he comes back to the same castle with the same occupants— your shiny new threads gleam. The stage has been set, a play ready to act. You had sent more spiders in the North, keeping a close eye to every blasphemy your husband has been enjoying in the absence of his duties, and as the rage in you quietly grew with each new whisper, your determination hardens.
You mark each indescretion. You keep a tally.
You count for each fall your blow will land on him.
Vermax lands with a screech and a heavy thump, your husband leaping off him with a grin on his face, matching the one you own, waving your arm joyously with Aemma in your arm and Daenera beside you, holding to your skirt as she grinned at her father.
Aemma wiggles under your hold, and you let Jace get close enough before you set her down, laughing, "Okay, okay!" Her laughter carries through as she scrambles like a bull to her father. A squeal peals out of her as Jace picks her up just in time and tosses her in the air.
"Want to meet kepa, father, sweet girl?" you whisper to Daenera, running a hand down her hair before she nods, breaking out into her own sprint, hugging her father as he greets them with laughter and kisses.
You let them have their time, and this, at least, eases your heart truthfully. A kind reminder that Jace adores his daughters.
You stay at the edge of the entrance, your too-wide grin softens into a smile. You were dramatic, nothing new about that, but even in the pale, pearl blue of your dress in silky, Myrish lace, the emeralds in your heavy, golden belt winks. Green ribbons twisted in your hair alongside fresh flowers. When the trio of your family treks toward you, silver-haired babes clinging to your dark haired prince, you serve a wink at the girls and they untangle themselves from their father while you stepped forward.
A choreographed dance, not giving him time to think. To pause.
Every step is calculated, every item on your body— the silk, the small seahorse that locks your dress behind you, the tint on your lips to the oil in your hair and body — is made to perform. You engulf him in you as if you want to suffocate his senses, your arms wrapping around him with sweet kisses pressing on his face, his neck.
Most in the dragonpit looked away, others, scandalously amazed and enchanted, watch as the princess is undeniably enthralled with her lord husband.
His laughter rumbles across his body, infecting your own, smelling of dragonback and crisp winds. You wonder if your nose is more heightened, you would be able to smell his whore in him, but you don't. It's just him. Your Jace.
Your body moulds against his as his arms tightens around you. When you lean back, you sweetly press a chaste kiss on his lips, grinning.
"What is this?" he huffs a laugh, meeting your doeful gaze. Your fingers curl around his chin, his cheek, idly tapping and touching as if you are committing so much newness to memory.
"Kostagon iā ābrazȳrys daor jaelagon zirȳla valzȳrys? Can a wife not want her husband?" you ask softly, pressing a few more kisses before sucking the last one just under his ear. His body shudders. You hide your smirk. "Skori ēza issare qrīdrughagon tolī bōsa? When he has been away too long?"
A yearning look tints your gaze from under your lashes, and you have to stifle the winning smirk as guilt pinches his face.
"My apologies, my wife. I did not mean to be away from you for long. From the girls." As his eyes flick to his daughters, your mask momentarily sharpens into clear distaste. The urge to dig your fingers into his eyes until he is bleeding and screaming under you is one you tamper with great distress.
Did not mean...
Did not mean to have a dalliance with another woman?
Did not mean to fall into bed with a fucking bastard, you insidious cunt, while I await here with your heirs?
Your anger thrums, nestled deep in your heart, it breathes. You school your face the moment he turns back to you, bringing your hands to his lips, kissing each finger with reverent tenderness. His brown eyes smoulder, rubbing your bare— irises widening — back.
"If you wish it, I can be on my knees for my apologies, my princess."
Your mouth curls. "I'm afraid that might have to be quite later, my prince."
"Huh?"
"The Dowager Queen hoped to congratulate you on your successful campaigning. Reaching as far as the North so frequently, we planned a feast for your return." Eyes shinning, you cup his face. You hope the guilt eats him raw from the inside out. Like worms. Like termites. Hungry, hungry, hungry. "We have never been more proud of you, I have never been more proud of you."
You laugh brightly, ignoring the way he squeezed you just a bit harder that mere second the same time his eyes tightened. "The moment I told the girls of it, they had begged to dance with you." Then you bit your lip, frowning slightly. "I... I understand if you are tired, 'tis a long journey after all, I did try to tell them you might want to rest, we can sneak you—"
"No, no, my heart, of course I would be happy to, I— I want nothing more." He brings you close, face disappearing into your neck. "Thank you. I love you."
You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. "As I love you."
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For the rest of the feast, you dance just at the edges of his fingertips, ensuring that you permeated his sights and senses despite it. A game. A dance. When he thanks revelries who congratulate him, who ask him of his adventures, you proudly stand beside him, dutiful as the wife that you are, spearing him with compliments as much as you can. Hands squeezing his arm, your oils swallowing him with your smell.
When dinner came, you take chances massaging his thigh, sliding a salacious grin that had him blushing, ever so sweet, green— making you wonder what kind of fucking bastards do that he finds your attention so swallowing.
You don't let up.
Whenever he, in turn made a move, you sidestep, flutter a smirk, a wink; always escaping, letting him grow frustrated as the night went on.
Your one respite from taunting him had been when he danced with his daughters, making a gallant show of asking them, even Jaehaera. Giggles and spins, the ladies of the court fawn and coo.
Even now, you're making him to be the perfect man. The endearing husband, the wondrous father, the brilliant prince, the perfect lord.
To execute your plan, it must be made with a surgical precision. A slice that guts him to his knees, that breaks his spirit and quenches the whispering, wicked madness nestling with your ire. On another cheek, he must remain upright and upstanding, as to keep your daughters' future in perfect order.
You catch the domineering gaze of Daemon Targaryen, idle as he is, on the side of his distracted Queen, talking to a highborn lady. You don't look away as you toast him your cup of Arbour Red before you pucker your lips for a taste. Your eyes move to where your husband is already looking, flushed red and sweaty from all the dancing, your girls, preening and giggling around him.
You tilt your chin at him, a challenge in your gaze, before you slowly pull your lips away from your wine, stained red.
His throat bobs.
It will be a long, arduous game. Full of pitfalls and tightened webbing. One trip can kill you. But once the machinations are in order, once everything and everyone is in their proper places... oh, you cannot wait for the dance the dragons will make.
A flutter, a simpered footstep. Then a rustle of a dress as one bows.
"My lady," Dyanna greets behind you.
"Hm?"
"The spiders in the ice have met the pup in the snow."
"And?"
"The pup is not suspicious, in fact, they might go as far as to say that the pup is lonely. Though others largely understand her existence... no one likes a bastard."
You snort. "No, they don't, do they?"
"The wolf cares for the pup though, and is largely protective of his only sister."
"Hm. Complicated, but not impossible. Have Meera change the tone of my missive. A softer edge. Sweet but not overtly. Ensure the prerogative of politeness. Then have it sent to the Rookery. The proper channels."
You sigh, taking the edge of your braid and twisting through the ribbons your maid tangled between them. Tonight, you had elected Targaryen colours. A black dress akin to scales and a low, exposed back and dipping front, held together in red ribbons and silver chains. One that might be too on the nose, but the constant, feverish stares from your husband made it worth it.
"We have to ensure a good relationship with the Warden of the North, don't you think so?" You have not looked away from your husband since your maid came, and as he whispered something in Daenera's ear, nodding off to her grandmother with Aemma towed, he turned towards you, one stride after another.
"Precisely what I thought, milady."
"Go," you order her for the last time, giving her your cup, just before Jacaerys reaches you.
Game, set.
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Worshipping you has always been something Jace excelled at. At the least, his cock was much larger than most, and without the preparation of his tongue and mouth, it burned. At most, he oft found himself holding your shaking thighs, your head and shoulders left on the bed as he feasted on you like a man starved, hungered for your nectar, the sounds you make, and the shaking of your body as you reached your peak on his tongue.
"J-Jace, please, I—" Your breath stutters, a hiccup escaping your mouth, but he is not letting up. On his knees as only a lordling can with his back straight, he is holding your thighs, your lower back, eating your cunny for the third time of the night.
As soon as he had reached you, he grasped your waist, whispering against your hair in a rumbled groan, "You are torturing me so, my wife. We leave. Now."
"Now?" you echoed, amused. "This is a feast in your honour."
"My honour is already hanging by a thread. The revelry will go on without us. I want to have my fill of you."
And fill he had. He didn't even wait to get you out of your dress before he had pushed your skirt upward, gone on his knees, and got his tongue inside of you.
Now, you are overwhelmed, overstimulated as you are hazy, gripping the wrecked sheets as your peak reached you once more. A strangled, breathy cry of his name falls between your lips as your back arched impossibly so, and instead of letting up, this seemed to fuel him harder, the muscle of his mouth working harder inside of your cunt, hands digging into your flesh to keep you steady.
It builds with a stimulation unending, and just as you're on the throes of your last high, it builds again, quick and fast this time, shuddering gasps of, "o-oh gods, g-gods, Jace!" is the last thing you are able to shout before your fourth peak breaks against the shudders of your last one, your wetness exploding, and you start crying before he lets up.
Your blubber becomes laughter, and he is soft as he lies you down, massaging your thighs as you twitched. He hovers above you, running gentle hands across your arms, kneading through skin, before he reaches your face. He's still in most of his clothes, his long white shirt and breeches, but his mouth is covered in your wetness before he wipes it, obscene in the prettiness of his face and messy locks from where you had tugged and grabbed.
He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, so close to your body, all too tangled in your soul, and can feel his hard cock upright and wanting against your belly, but he pays it no mind. Concern mars his features as he brushes down your hair.
"Are you alright, my love? Too much?"
You shake your head, brushing your hand down his chest. "N-no, I am well. I just never did that before."
He smiles, kissing your closed eyelids before he brings you close to his chest, cuddling you deep. "You deserve all the pleasure I can give you," he says against your hair. "I have been gone far too long. Consider it my apology."
You hum, eyes open. "Apology for what? You were doing your duty, nothing more, ñuha zaldrīzes, my dragon." You feel him stiffen as you keep your voice soft, caring. "I understand duty far better than you. It is what I love most about you."
You look up, taking his chin between your fingertips as you stared at those warm, brown eyes. "You, who carries your honour like a shield and your duty like a sword. I feel as if the gods had blessed me a husband far better than I should have had for I know I do not deserve you."
"H-how can you say that? You are—" He swallows. "— You are the most excellent woman. The mother of my children. You... You are the one I do not deserve."
Your head falls back against his chest, gripping his shirt. Only by your teeth had you stop yourself from screaming.
You curdle, you keep, you poise.
"My love?"
But you pay him no mind, pushing him on his back as you straddle him, your hands working quick to unlace his breeches until his cock slaps against his stomach, end red and swollen. A sharp hiss falls from his lips as your hand tugs on it once. Twice.
He calls your name, spits it really, eyes blown with lust as he holds your waist, unsure if he should lift you off him or grind you against his aching cock.
"I want you inside me," you whimper, plead, feeling his cock twitch at your words, your false, yearning gaze. He mistakes the burned tears of anger in your eyes as unbridled want. "I have gone so long without your warmth, your cock, swelling inside me, your seed nestling deep, taking root—"
"Yes," he gasps, fingers digging into your doughy sides, pulling you up, moving you around whilst you grabbed his length and directed inside your wet, hot cunt inch by inch, filling you so thickly you can feel him in your throat. It takes time, patience and grit, but you're wet enough and you're determined. Once he's fully inside of you through a choked moan of your own, his neck arches, head thrown back. "Fuck! Yes, y-yes, there you are, my g-good fucking girl."
You move slow at first, taking him, bracing one hand on his knee, almost testing the feel him of back in the familiar contours of your cunt. Veins pop between each groan and choke that shudders through him whilst praise, your name, the possessive titles— my love, my wife, my princess — is spit in between.
When the heat tightens in your belly, you shift positions, placing both palms on his chest, and riding him without abandon, bouncing up and down as you watch with a sharp eye as his release builds. His hips move on their own, fucking up in you as you meet his thrusts with equal vigour, and it's delicious. It's heated. You grind your swollen folds against his mon and your cries make him thrust up harder into you, calling your name, denting your doughy hips.
You don't stop, your pleasure at the back of your mind, wanting him to unravel, to break— a final cry of your name dissolving into a choked moan, spilling his seed deep inside, the continuous snap of his hips digging it deeper into your womb.
But your last peak is still tightening, so you press a quick kiss on his chest, a bite really, before you continue to chase your own high, a hiss slipping his lips but moving your hips with his iron-grip, stutters of, "d-do it, reach your high, f-fuck! fuck!"— Your head throws back, nails digging his skin as your cunt clenches his cock in a vice grip, forcing his hips to snap up once more, twice, until you fall, slumping against him.
When he kisses the top of your head, murmuring words you ignore, you close your eyes.
Your plan is in motion. The missive will be sent to the Lord Stark, in pursuit of an innocent friendship. The spiders you have placed on the Northern bastard are set, and a dragon flies in Dragonstone with your bond in its blood.
Your Jace is home. He will fall in love with you all over again. His wonderful daughters and darling princess, he will regret the events that have transpired in the cold. In his head, he will make promises to do better, to be better, that whatever happened is a blip. A mistake that will not happen again. but you know, he will trip. He will wander once more.
But you will make sure that the next time he does so, he will regret it for the rest of his days.
Because it is not you who will burn Winterfell to the ground.
It will be him.
Your plan moves, your web is perfect.
Now, the spider waits for the idiot fucking flies to feed on.
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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months
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What Can I Do For You? (Alastor x Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Prompt: what if the deal restricting Alastor's powers is with you? haha, unless....
Warnings: THIS IS NOT SMUT. However, there will be some abusive/unhealthy relationship things obvi. One (1) bad word (I think).
Word count: 1,855
Master lists:
Master Lists 
Hazbin Hotel Master List
A/N this is just a reminder that I do accept requests if anyone is interested!
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She was waiting there for him when he got back. Of course she was. Sitting in the chair of his recording studio, leaned back and casual. She acted like she owned the place.
It had been a few weeks since she'd sent him to the Hazbin Hotel. Alastor still didn't know the reasons but, him confirming the success of his appointment of the place had been the last time they'd spoken, it had been the last time he had seen her.
Quietly, Alastor pulled himself from the door way, his heart pounding frantically, halfway between anger and something akin to joy. He walked up to her, his hands placidly clasped behind his back. Stopping a few feet away, she turned to face him.
There it was, that sickly smile. Part of what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, love, complex feelings like that for so long and it was because he knew they made him weak. If he cared, he always thought, his enemies could use the object of his care against him. Simple as that.
Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it was the hypothetical person he might care for who would use his affections to their advantage. He had been naïve. He had been a fool.
The red light from the night sky crashed against her face, throwing her features into sharp contrast. She crossed her legs, the length of her skirt revealing her thighs just the slightest bit above her laced combat boots. She tilted her head slightly to the side. She was beautiful, just as beautiful as the day he'd met her.
That had all been part of the act as well, being small and afraid under the grips of that man. Alastor had heard her scream and found them in the ally. He had killed the man, reaching a hand out to the trembling demon. Hesitantly, she had taken it.
"I've been waiting." she hummed, her voice warm and inviting but with a cold sharp under-layer.
It was the voice someone had when they held a knife behind their back, knew they had the trump card, knew they couldn't loose. When he had first met the woman twelve years before, it had pulled him in. There was a curious depth to it he just couldn't help but want to uncover, need to uncover.
"My apologies." he softly replied, "If I had known, I would have come sooner."
Her smile widened, matching his own in its wildness. Sharp teeth, sharp eyes, sharp heart. Every fiber of his being told him to pick an option, fight or flight. He kept it all at bay, there was no other option. Not any more.
"I know." she hummed, taunting him, "You're quiet domesticated now."
There had been a time when her saying something like that might have made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There had been a time where the word, domesticated, would have meant in love and together, not bound to her side for all eternity.
Now it just made Alastor feel sick to his stomach. Shame rose within him, making his cheeks glow pink. She chuckled at the sight.
"Now that's a sight that never gets old."
"What?"
"The feared Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords in all of Hell -- ashamed."
Alastor didn't reply. After a moment, she sighed, pulling herself to her feet. She circled him like a mad dog, like she was stalking prey. He didn't watch her, but his ears twitched, following the sound of her footsteps. She came to a stop behind him.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, clearing his throat.
She reached up, grabbing his shoulders gently in her hands. Even after all this time, all these years, all that had happened, he melted at her touch. That's what five years of building trust, forging love, did. Even if the seven after were hell, even if she had tricked him, betrayed him, time and time again, Alastor couldn't help it. He was weak and pliant beneath her skilled touch.
"What, I can't just check in on my favorite pet?" she asked innocently, rubbing his shoulders gently.
"Y/n..." Alastor sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides, "please, just tell me what you want."
She abruptly stopped in her movements at the sound of her name. It was a rare gift to hear it from someone's lips other than her own. Hell's Hunter Demon didn't share her true name, didn't reveal her face to anyone. It had been part of the trust building, the day she had finally given both to him.
When he had first met her, he had recognized her immediately from the stories. Alastor was on the verge of killing her, adding her voice to the broadcast to prove his power but, seeing the way she shook stopped him. He had smiled to himself, he had thought he had learned a secret about one of the most feared overlords in Hell besides himself. He had thought he had the upper hand.
"Say it again."
"Y/n."
She had been so sweet at first, so docile. He was set on getting her soul, making her subservient. The longer he had lain in wait to enact his little plan, the more he had gotten to know her. Y/n had a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, she was clever and had a kind side to her that she hid well. It hadn't taken much for him to realize he was falling in love.
That had been terrifying, the first truly scary thing the Radio Demon had encountered since arriving in Hell. It had tortured him for months and he'd consulted every one he knew and trusted on the matter. Finally, Rosie was the one who had convinced him to just tell her, had told him she might feel the same way too. As much as he wanted to blame Rosie for that, Alastor couldn't bring himself to. She hadn't known, they'd both been in the dark, captivated by her sweet austere brilliance.
They had gotten a few happy moments together, a few blissful years. There had been time before she had revealed her true colors and what a lovely time it had been.
A shiver trickled down both their spines in the silence, the sound of his tongue forming the syllables of her name bringing back memories of brighter times. She took her hands from his shoulders, coming to stand before him once again.
Y/n was a book in a language he didn't know, an undeciphered code. Mouth drawn into a thin line, hands daintily placed on her hips, he watched her as she watched him. Unbidden thoughts, unbidden memories, the same ones as always, filtered into his mind. He couldn't help but wonder now, as he had a hundred times before, if it had all truly been a lie. If it had all been some ruse to get what she wanted.
Alastor had to admit, she had gotten him fair and square. Y/n had had him so absolutely wrapped-around-her-pinky-finger in love that she hadn't even been the one to bring up the deal. He had thought he was being sweet, romantic even. It was unfamiliar territory for the man and it had been important. He had fretted over the right way to ask her for weeks.
When he finally had, she was ecstatic at the idea of them joining souls, of giving themselves so fully and completely over to one another. A contract for each of them, an equal exchange.
As a sign of good faith, a mistake he would never be making again, Alastor had offered to go first. When the green smoke had lifted from their clasped hands and he had first caught sight of her face, of her wicked grin, he knew he had fucked up.
Y/n stepped up to him. With a gentle hand, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Alastor hadn't even realized it had been there, so preoccupied with his own pity. He held his smile strong as she examined the little drop of salt water on her finger, smiling ruefully.
"What do I want from you." she mused softly to herself, "Well, I think I already have everything, wouldn't you agree?"
A green chain materialized in her hand as she spoke, the tear hitting it, melding with the metal as it became solid and she grasped it firmly. With a tug, she sent Alastor to the floor. He fell to his knees harshly, the impact reverberating through his bones.
He had loved her once. Now, looking up at her, he loved her still. He was a fool, through and through. Not because of his persisting love but because of his persisting hope, the fact that he had trusted her. The fact that he still trusted her. The fact that after everything, it somehow still made him the slightest bit joyful to see Y/n smiling and know he was the cause.
More than anything, he wanted to ask her if she regretted what had happened, what she had done. Alastor held his tongue. Even if she was, it was too late. There was no point in asking.
"I can't keep doing this." was what he chose to say instead, his voice was barley more than a whisper.
Y/n's smile fell, her eye brows raised as she crouched down in front of him, pulling the chain tight between them. She delicately placed a finger beneath his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.
"It doesn't matter. You will."
He knew she was right. Curse or no curse, he would come when she called.
"What can I do for you?" he asked again, his tone resolute.
"You can burn."
And burn he did.
There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, it was because he had been afraid of it. A secret part of him had always yearned, a secret part that even now still felt fulfilled at her gentle touch. All along, he had been right that love would destroy him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it would have happened in this way or, that after everything, he would still care for the woman in question, his captor.
"Ask me again." she commanded.
"What can I do for you?"
He had been naïve, a fool.
"You can rot for all I care. Ask me again."
He was a fool still. A fool in love, a fool destroyed.
"What can I do for you?"
His breaths were labored, his heart open and bloodied. Y/n held it in the palms of her hands, given willingly. She radiated power crouched before him, holding his head close to hers with the chain.
"You can obey. Will you?"
"Yes."
The metal, cold and heavy, tugged against his neck, bruising the bone of his spine.
"For how long?"
"Forever."
There was no hesitation in his voice. A smile split her face in two, wicked and hungry.
"Good."
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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months
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BAD BLOOD pt 3
Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller
Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), perv!Joel, dark!Joel, dark!reader, dubconned!Tommy, mention of f!oral, mention of mfm, fingering, semi public, cum eating, degradation kink, praise kink, daddy kink, alcohol consumption, swearing, reader wears makeup.
Summary: Joel and Tommy take you out and things get heated.
Word count: 5,8k
A/n: it took me longer than I planned but pt 3 is finally here. I really hope you’ll like it! Kisses and hugs to everyone who has given love to the series💖 I’m very grateful!! Special thank you to @milla-frenchy for the support! Ily baby❤️
Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST
*****
You’re sitting at your vanity putting final touches to your makeup. Butterflies are dancing in your stomach and your pussy is tingling as the anticipation of the night electrifies your nerves.
You can’t believe that it’s finally going to happen. You’ve been imagining it for so long. Every holiday, every family visit to your college, every time you saw your stepdad the desire for him ignited your core. You imagined him taking you in your bed, claiming your pussy under the secrecy of the night. You wished he would send your mom to hell, close the door in her face and take you in your dorm room. You dreamt of him fucking you on your desk and making you squirt all over the books. You’ve craved that cock and the man attached to it for so long and today you’re finally going to get it all.
***
“Can you hurry up?” Joel’s booming voice startles you and your hand jerks making your eyeliner too thick. “Tommy’s waiting at the car and getting on my nerves, fidgety fucker.”
You see your step uncle’s reflection in the mirror and exclaim not turning to him, “Fuck! Stop creeping on me! Go away!”
Despite your words you quickly check him out through the mirror. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a cardigan with the lowest V neck you’ve ever seen. Your mouth waters when you see his naked chest.
The man curses and steps into your bedroom shutting the door behind him. You turn swiftly, raising your hand in a stop gesture.
“No. Get out! You’re not coming on my face again. I just did my makeup,” you turn back to the mirror and start fixing your ruined eyeliner barely moving your lips to talk, “tonight is about Tommy and me anyway.”
“In love with your stepdad. Fuckin’ hell!” Joel chuckles, walking to your bed. He sits down and places the elbows on his thighs. His voice gets serious, “I want you to remember what you promised me, angel. No back outs.”
“I’m not in love, Joel. Just wanna fuck him. I’m gonna do everything the way we planned, ok? I can’t believe he’s still talking to you. After what you’ve done.”
Joel rubs his beard hiding a smile. “Told him you wanted to find out if he’d fuck you and I obliged. Then I just made big eyes ‘What?! She recorded it? No way! What a bitch!’ He ate it up,” he adds, looking pleased with himself.
You finally turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape.
“Oh, so he thinks you’re innocent?!”
“Tommy knows that I’m far from innocent. But you…”, he points his index finger at you, “your stunt shocked him. His sweet stepdaughter, blackmailing him into fucking her.. Shit!” He adjusts himself and you lick your lips shooting a glance at his bulge.
You turn back to the mirror and silence fills the bedroom while you’re applying your lipstick. You feel Joel's heavy gaze on you until his gruff voice breaks it, “This color will look great smeared on my balls, baby.”
You scoff at his words but don’t say anything. You can’t deny that the desire to suck him off has been growing exponentially since the moment he slapped you in the backyard. Especially when you saw his fat cock that morning. Now you really want that bonus he promised stuffed into your pussy.
When the makeup is done you get up and walk to the bed. Your short black dress with sheer sleeves is laid out next to Joel who’s manspreading his thick thighs. His knee touches your bare leg and you step away furrowing your brows and whine, “Can you leave? I need to change.” Your voice lacks confidence as in reality you want him to stay and watch but it’s hard to admit that this man who looks more like a pimp than a contractor makes your pussy tingle.
“What’s the matter, angel? We’re family, no need to be shy around me.”
You roll your eyes and shift on your feet contemplating your next move. After a few moments your hands rise up to untie your robe. You open it not turning away from Joel and throw it off your shoulders fully exposing yourself. The robe pools at your feet as you’re looking at him with defiance.
Joel’s expression is serious and pensive. He takes you in like you’re an object on display in a shop window. You hold your breath fearing that any degrading comment thrown your way now might really hurt you. But a wave of relief washes over you when you see him breathe in sharply, lean back on his hand, spreading his legs wider and palming his bulge.
“What if I give you my bonus right now, angel. I feel generous.”
Triumph seizes you when you see the signs of his desire - your power over him. You have an upper hand and now it’s your turn to smirk.
“Don’t think so, step uncle. Need to ask my daddy first.”
You turn around and walk to the dresser hearing the man chuckle. You feel his gaze on your ass and push it out a little to give him a better view.
You open the top drawer and look through your panties and bras wanting to choose a perfect set for tonight.
You hear your bed creak and then the heat of Joel’s body warms up your bare back and ass.
“Want me to help you choose, angel? I know what my brother likes.”
“I was thinking this one,” you muse picking up a red lacy set and showing it to him.
“Fuck, it’s hot, baby. Suits you well. Slutty,” he comments and then leans lower, his lips are brushing your ear as he whispers, “but don’t forget your role, angel. You’re his innocent stepdaughter. He thinks he hates that he wants to fuck you but he fuckin’ loves it. He’s as twisted as me, just hides it.”
He raises his arms at your sides caging you between his massive biceps and searches through the drawer. He’s looking over your shoulder and when his hot wet exhale hits your naked breasts, your nipples get hard. He picks up a light pink mesh set, decorated with cute little white hearts.
“Wear this one and he’ll bust his nut as soon as he sees you”.
“I kinda need him to last,” you murmur but decide to follow his advice.
The thoughts are jumbled in your head as Joel’s low voice and hot breath on your naked skin are making you weak. You press your thighs together chasing any relief from the ache in your core. You feel cold air on your wet pussy. His bulge grazes the hollow of your ass and you bite your lip trying to swallow a whimper that is crawling up your throat.
“Yeah, it’s a good one,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. You want to take the lingerie from him but he doesn’t let you and pulls his hand away.
“I’ll help, angel.” You hear shuffling and turn around slightly to see him get on one knee behind you. He looks up at you, still dominant even in this position and your breath hitches.
Suddenly his hands grip your thighs and he turns you around. His face is so close to your pussy now your clit tingles and you gush more.
He drops his head and brings the panties to your feet. Your mouth parts with a surprise.
“Come on,” he hurries you and you step into the underwear, one foot and then the other. He hums with satisfaction and pulls them up, his hands brushing your legs and tickling your skin making it erupt in goosebumps. He notices your body’s reaction to his touch and stops his hands mid thigh looking straight at your pussy.
“Joel,” you whine as a sudden surge of shyness grasps you.
He seems not to hear. He leans closer to your mound and you gasp when his nose pushes into the spot just above your seam.
Then he plants a soft kiss on your mound and you take a deep breath as the desire overwhelms you. You want his mouth on you with fierce desperation, your mind is empty and only one thought is swirling through it, “do it do it, do it.”
You shut your eyes ready to drown in pleasure and hear his soft and seductive voice as his breath warms your skin, “Who’s gonna eat your pussy tonight, angel, me or your stepdaddy?”
You can’t help but imagine them both between your thighs and you moan dropping down your head and running your fingers through his hair.
To your disappointment Joel pulls the panties up and doesn’t stop until your pussy lips swallow the sheer fabric. It presses on your clit and you take a sharp breath as a surge of need ignites your core.
You lift one leg, brace your hand on the dresser behind you and put your thigh over his broad shoulder giving him a perfect view of your pussy. Then your hand darts to pull the material to the side and you bite your lower lip as his hot breath hits your wet skin. Joel growls and raises his eyes at you. His gaze is so dark the irises are hardly visible. You’re sure your pupils are as blown as his.
“Want uncle to lick your pretty pussy?” he asks softly but you hear a trace of mockery in his voice. Your need suffocates your pride and you answer him by gliding your foot up and down his muscular back.
He hums and leans closer to your center. You hold your breath in anticipation and run your fingers through his hair ready to tug on them when he finally eats you out. But you furrow your brows and blink in confusion when he presses his cheek to your folds and stills. “What are you..?”
Suddenly he moves his head up and down against your sensitive pussy rubbing it with his rough scruff. You cry out and jump back away from him.
“What the fuck, Joel?! It hurts!” you’re fuming looking at your burning folds while he chuckles getting up from the floor with a grunt.
“Just wanted to save your scent, baby,” he laughs rubbing his beard and you shout at him to get out putting on a bra.
“You have 5 minutes,” he says, still chuckling as he leaves the room.
***
When you finally step outside the house you see the brothers smoking by Joel’s truck. Jess took your stepdad’s car to go on a spa retreat and her plans to waste Tommy’s money pampering herself coincided perfectly with your plans to fuck her husband.
You bite your lip when you see Tommy wearing a black western shirt and dark jeans. Your heart sings at the thought that he wanted to look good to take you out.
Tommy quickly looks you over, trying to hide his interest but you notice his gaze slide over your body tightly enveloped by the slinky dress.
Joel on the other hand doesn’t hide anything. “Looking good, baby,” he comments shamelessly adjusting his bulge.
“Let’s go,” you say, coming up to the truck and batting your lashes at Tommy, “Daddy, will you keep me company in the back?”
“Sweetheart...” Tommy starts talking with an unsure expression but you pout your lips, mouthing, “please”.
He sighs and gets in the back seat. A little part of you wonders if he’s pushed by your threat or genuine desire to be close to you. But you shut this little voice down reminding yourself that the result is what’s important.
When you get into the car your dress rides up exposing even more of your thighs but you don’t bother tugging it down.
Joel starts the engine and backs out of the driveway while you’re looking around at the interior of his truck. It’s surprisingly tidy and you’re genuinely impressed until your gaze raises up and to your shock you see your panties hanging on the rear view mirror. Your jaw drops and you’re about to shout at Joel when you stop yourself. You realize that the perv must have picked them up from the floor of your room that morning and you’re not eager to let your stepdad know about your fun time with your step uncle.
So you shut your mouth and see Joel winking at you in the mirror.
Tommy on the other hand reacts as soon as he sees it, “God, Joel, take this thing off!”
“Why?” His older brother asks with defiance driving through the town streets with one hand on the wheel.
Tommy just sighs, not even trying to come up with a reason.
You’re squirming in your seat praying that Joel doesn’t mention whose panties are now swinging in front of the windshield. You almost moan with relief when he turns on some classic rock and doesn’t say anything.
Your eyes keep shooting at Tommy from time to time who’s looking out of the window. You hate that he’s so far so you unbuckle your seat belt and slide over closer to him. You trace a wedding band on his finger getting his attention. He snaps his head your way, brows furrowed.
“Get back in your seat. ‘s dangerous.”
You take his hand and bring it up to your lips as he’s watching you closely. You press your cheek to his knuckles and rub your face against his hand.
“Love when you worry about me, daddy,” you purr into his hand and then place it on your thigh that’s further from him.
You put your hand over his and make him squeeze your naked flesh.
“Keep me safe, please,” you breathe out feeling his palm against your skin, so close to your pussy and at the same time torturously far.
“I ain’t a seat belt, sweetie,” Tommy mumbles looking down at your skin erupting in goosebumps under his touch. He takes a sharp breath and lifts his hips before spreading his legs a little wider. You notice his bulge has grown bigger and you close your eyes for a second trying to calm down but sink even deeper in the sticky pit of desire. You think about moving his hand to your inner thigh and then closer towards your pussy. His fingers would immediately find your panties soaked and if he slid his thumb under the fabric he could easily find your throbbing clit and …
“Hey, lovebirds!” Joel rumbles and you snap your eyes open as he interrupts your daydreaming.
Tommy clears his throat feeling his brother's eyes on him in the car mirror and his hand flies away from your thigh. You curse Joel inwardly for ruining the moment.
Joel’s head turns to you slightly as he asks, “how about we skip the restaurant and get a motel, huh?”
You know that you’re the one he’s asking because Tommy has no say in any of this thanks to the recording you have on your phone.
“I’m not some cheap hooker you picked up at a gas station, Joel. I can’t just jump into bed with you,” you reply, putting your seatbelt back on.
Joel laughs and your stomach burns with rage. You’re fed up with his mocking, his attitude, his cockiness.
“What’s so fucking funny, old man?” You spit out at him grinding your teeth.
“Fuck, baby,” he says locking eyes with you in the mirror, “I don’t remember buying you dinner before I jizzed all over your pretty face a few days ago?”
“You WHAT?!” Tommy exclaims and your heart falls into your stomach. As long as you’ve known him you never heard him raise his voice like that, maybe only watching sports but never at a person. Especially Joel. He scoots forward in his seat to get closer to Joel and grabs his arm. “Have you fucked her already?” Joel seems absolutely unfazed as he replies in his usual “fuck y’all” tone, “No, I haven, Tommy, relax. We just fooled around. The princess wanted to come and I helped her.”
Tommy’s head snaps in your direction and you squeeze your body into the seat as fear grips your heart. He looks livid, eyes are scorching you under the furrowed brows, lips form a tight line in anger or disappointment. You feel small under his stare and stammer weakly, “d..daddy, he didn’t… ”
He suddenly gets closer to you, leans in, grabs your hand and squeezes it in his. It’s not painful but his strength and wrath make your breath hitch and your pussy clenches around nothing as the fear affects you like an aphrodisiac.
“If he fucks your needy hole before I do, believe my words, sweetie, I won’t touch you. You can put that recording of me on national television I don’t give a fuck. Got it?” He throws the words at you as his eyes are boring into yours.
You whimper as his face is so close you feel his breath on your parted lips. Realizing that he’s waiting for your answer you nod hastily and he gets back in his seat.
You feel your world tilting and turning upside down. Your stepdad, the calmest, softest man you know just shouted at his brother and said all that to you.
Tommy’s still fuming, clenching and unclenching his fist resting on his thigh and you wonder why it stirred him up that much. Why has his possessiveness burst out now? It was the first time you witnessed his passion for you. Is it sibling rivalry? Insecurity? Or did he finally let himself do what he’d wanted? You ask yourself these questions before you see Joel watch you through the mirror. He looks smug and you try to make your expression neutral not to give him the satisfaction.
You glance out of the window and your anxiety spikes up again seeing that you’re almost at the place you’ve picked.
“Oh, fuck no!” Tommy exclaims seeing where you three are going. “Are you fucking kidding me? You know that it’s Jess’ favorite place. How am I gonna look with you grinding against me all night?” He’s shooting daggers at you and you take a deep breath trying to find the right words.
“Tommy, listen. This restaurant is the only ok place in this shithole of a town. And I promise I’ll behave,”
Mistrust is painted on his face but seeing you shaken and nervous calms him down a bit.
“No ‘daddies’!” he demands pointing his finger at you.
“No “daddies,” you promise with sadness in your voice.
He points his finger at Joel next, “You too! None of your usual shit!”
Joel raises his hands and brows acting like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. You scuff but turn your pleading gaze at Tommy.
“And we leave when I say we leave!”
You hate losing your upper hand in the situation but your pussy is throbbing for him now, so dominant and rough, and you decide to submit this time.
You all get out of the car and Tommy stomps to the restaurant still angry. Having stayed alone with Joel you use the opportunity and grab his arm to stop him.
“Why have you said it? About the morning? I thought we were on the same page.”
“We are, angel.” Joel replies, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in the direction of the entrance, “I know my brother. He always wants something I don’t have. He must be ecstatic seeing how hungry you’re for him. I just fiddled with his toy a bit and now he wants it even more.”
His hand grabs your ass and you slap it off getting away from him as you see Tommy watch you two waiting at the door.
You can’t believe that Joel is manipulating his brother so easily. But his words have reassured you and you feel less agitated.
When the brothers and you step into the restaurant, a host greets Tommy by the name and you see the confusion hiding behind his features at Mr Miller’s unusual company.
He asks about Jess and you cringe rolling your eyes so far up your head, the host gets even more flustered.
He leads you to your table and you settle down.
A waiter brings you the menus and you order a glass of red wine, adding “Please, you two, no hard liquor, we have a long night ahead of us,” Tommy chokes on his water as the waiter slightly raises his eyebrow.
Joel gets a beer and Tommy follows suit. When the waiter leaves your stepdad glares at you.
“You promised to behave.”
“I am behaving. I just don’t want you to forget why we’re here.”
Joel chimes in, leaning back against his chair with a grunt, “And why exactly are we here, baby?”
“I want us to get to know each other better.”
“We’re family, angel, I know everything there is about you.”
“Really? What’s my favorite color, Joel,” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.
“The color of my brother’s dick?” Joel asks and you burst into giggles while Tommy mumbles profanities under his breath.
When the drinks arrive Joel starts asking Tommy about his work and you’re surprised to notice how the older brother eases him up. They talk and you listen, not really getting through the meaning of a bunch of contractor terms but you smile when they do and laugh when they say something funny.
Soon you’re drinking and talking and it actually feels comfortable. They reminisce about their life in Austin and you ask them questions genuinely interested in their past.
At one point Joel acts like a perfect wing man telling you a hot story of Tommy getting arrested for starting a bar fight because of a girl and you tingle all over. Your stepdad gives you a shy smile and your breath hitches.
Suddenly you feel Joel’s piercing gaze on you.
“What about you, angel? Got any fun college stories for us?” Tommy looks uncomfortable and you remember your promise to him to behave so you say softly,
“I’m a good girl, uncle Joel. I’m there to study, not to waste my time on boys.” You drop your gaze acting so innocent even you don’t believe yourself.
Joel chuckles and Tommy glances up at you with a little smile.
“Ok, our good girl. What about girls? Bet you’ve licked some pussies after a wild party.”
“Fuck, Joel,” Tommy curses and you bite your lip trying not to smile at the way your stepdad squirms in his chair. The wine makes you bolder and you decide to spice up the night.
“How about we play a game? I answer your question and then you two answer mine?” you offer fidgeting in your chair giddy with excitement.
“Shoot, baby.”
“No!”
The men reply at the same time. Tommy’s shaking his head and Joel slightly punches his brother’s shoulder.
“Come on, Tommy. Let’s hear how naughty our good girl gets. I remember you were fine with her… how did you put it… exploring herself.”
Your eyes are glinting with excitement as Joel quotes that dialogue. You remember it by heart now having listened and come to it so many times you lost count.
“Go ahead, angel,” Joel nods, motioning you to speak.
You take a deep breath and start talking softly.
“I’ve been with a girl just once. We weren’t wasted or anything,” You shoot a glance at Joel and then continue, “We were in her room watching a movie and then it kinda happened.” You suddenly feel shy as not only Joel’s but also Tommy’s gaze is glued to you.
“Nah, baby. We need details.” Joel’s voice, seducing and gruff, pulls the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“We started making out.. then I tugged her shirt down and sucked on her nipples,” you muse tracing the edge of the wet glass with your finger. “I kissed her stomach, then her pussy… She was so wet. So soft on my tongue. I sucked on her clit and fingered her for some time and she came…her pussy was clamping on my fingers so hard.”
When you lift your eyes you see the brothers stare at you with hungry obsidian eyes as if they’re ready to pounce on you at any moment. Joel palms himself through the jeans and Tommy doesn’t tear his eyes off you as they slide from your lips to your breasts and back up again.
For a few moments you three are soaking in this horny silence until you break it clapping your hands together.
“My turn!”
Tommy takes a big gulp of his beer and Joel raises his brows waiting for your question.
“Have you ever fucked a girl together? Like… shared her?” you quickly regret your question as only saying it already is making you uncomfortably wet.
You’re looking at Joel expecting him to answer but suddenly hear your stepdad’s voice,
“Yeah, we have. Once.”
Your head snaps his way and you gawk at him. You don’t say anything and just wait for him to continue. And he does.
“She was Joel’s girlfriend at the time. We went to a bar, got really drunk and fucked in the bathroom.”
Tommy glances up at you and then quickly averts his eyes.
“Fuck…,” you moan rubbing your thighs together imagining them using some lucky girl like that and ask,
“How did you do it?”
Joel leans closer to you placing his massive arms on the table and replies savoring every word while his velvety voice hits you right in the pussy, “I made her bend over to suck Tommy off and then shoved my dick deep into her cunt. He fucked her throat, I fucked her hole and we pumped her full.”
The moment Joel finishes talking you hear the waiter’s shaky voice asking if you’d like anything else.
Tommy curses and sends him away. He acts polite but his voice strains with rage.
He hastily gets up and mumbling the word ‘bathroom’ leaves you two. Before he turns away you spot his massive bulge and swallow loudly.
You take a deep breath trying to calm down.
“Angel, you look pale,” Joel laughs at you and then shakes his head, “you want him, he wants you, what are all these fuckin’ games for? You coulda been stuffed with our cocks by now but no, little princes wanted to be wined and dined. Lets hope he doesn’t change his mind about tonight. If our plan goes to shit because of you, uncle Joel will get very angry. And you surely don’t want that, missy.” Joel’s expression is serious and you remember that he has his personal motive and his concern quickly becomes yours.
“I’ll talk to him,” you say, getting up from the table.
You come up to the bathroom and knock. It’s quiet so you knock again until you hear the lock click.
Tommy opens the door and steps out of the room but you gently push him back in.
“Please, let’s talk,”
You hear people’s voices and not wanting to be caught with you alone at the bathroom Tommy begrudgingly steps back and shuts the door behind you two.
“What?!” He grumps and steps up to the sinks. He opens the tap and bends down to wash his face.
You lean back against the door watching him and contemplating your next move. He’s about to snap and you’re afraid what unexpected fit he could throw again. You know he wants you and you need to be wise rather than play on his nerves. “You’re his innocent stepdaughter,” Joel’s words emerge from your mind.
You come up to him slowly and wait while he’s drying his face with a hand towel.
“I’m not a monster, Tommy. I don’t wanna ruin your life,” you speak softly, placing your hand on his shoulder. He turns to you, anger still painted on his face.
You inch closer, press your forehead to his shoulder and whisper breathing in his scent,
“I want you, Tommy. So fucking much.”
You feel vulnerable at the moment but that’s exactly what he wants you to be right now.
“So that’s why you spread your legs for my brother? ‘Cause you wanted me?”
You sniff not saying anything for a few moments, then lift your head, and glance up at him. His face is blurry as you’re looking at him through the tears.
“I was just horny, daddy. And when he was fingering me, I was imagining you fucking my pussy.”
Tommy’s breath hitches and you hold yours as well hoping he’ll react.
“Fuck, babygirl,” your stepdad whispers as his rage shifts into sympathy, his eyes sad and blown out.
The next moment he grabs you under your thighs, lifts you and sets you on the counter. He’s standing between your legs as you place your hands on his shoulders. His thumb wipes a tear from your cheek as the other hand is pressed to your lower back. You open your legs wider and the dress pulls up at your hips exposing your light pink panties.
“Shhh, don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here,” he whispers, kissing your cheek gently and his head drops as he’s looking at your pussy, “I want you too.”
His smell, his touch, his confession make you ecstatic and you press your parted lips to his. They’re soft and plump as his tongue breaches your lips and he licks into your whimpering mouth. You grab his ass and pull him closer to your heated center. You feel him hard against your pussy and start grinding on his stiff bulge.
“What do you need, babygirl? Tell me,” Tommy says, parting from your lips.
“Touch me, please… can’t wait any longer,” you whine, pulling your dress up to the waist. His hands rush to free your pussy and you lift your hips before Tommy takes your panties off.
The cold marble under your ass makes you hiss but you forget about it as soon as Tommy’s fingers push between your folds and he rubs your clit making you moan.
“You like it, babygirl? Daddy’s finally touching your needy pussy.”
You can’t form any words so you just moan and nod your head frantically. His forehead is pressed against yours as you’re both watching his digits glide down to your hole and without hesitation he pushes his middle finger inside you. You’re so wet it slides in easily and he starts massaging your walls.
“More please,” you plead and he groans as his index finger joins the first.
“Good girl! You're sucking me in so well, can’t wait to bury my cock inside you,” Tommy murmurs in your ear and you whimper before you see the door opening. Your heart freezes in your chest as you’re about to get caught being fingered by your stepdad. But you breathe out with relief seeing Joel stepping into the bathroom.
“Fuckin’ finally,” he grumbles coming up to you two. He stands next to Tommy, his bulge pressed to your thigh. Through the haze of pleasure you feel Joel’s hand cup your tears stricken cheek and he leans to your ear and whispers, “Clever girl.”
Then his big palm squeezes your naked thigh as he asks you,
“Enjoying daddy’s fingers, angel? Who’s better at fingering your tight little hole, him or your uncle?”
Tommy groans and suddenly his lips are on yours. His kiss is hungry, desperate, claiming. You melt into it feeling your climax build as his fingers are pushing on the soft spot inside you.
You moan into his mouth and Tommy’s lips leave yours as he mumbles, “I’ll feed your pussy my cock.. soon, babygirl… just wait.”
“You’ll be full by the end of the night, angel,” Joel smirks and pulls down the neckline of your dress exposing your naked breasts to the men. He starts twitching your nipple as his brother is working your pussy.
Joel watches your face twist with pleasure, your teeth biting your lips mercilessly.
“Don’t ruin your pretty lips, angel,” he says, bringing his thumb to your mouth. He brushes your swollen lower lip and pulls it out from between your teeth, “Here.” He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you welcome it. You start sucking on his thick digit making the filthiest noises.
With your stepdad’s fingers fucking your hole and step uncle's thumb stuffing your mouth you feel yourself about to unravel. Tommy pushes you over the edge pressing his thumb to your clit and swirling it a few times.
“Come, babygirl. Make daddy proud,” Tommy says and your explode clumping hard on his fingers and moaning, your pretty noises muffled by Joel’s thumb still pressed to your tongue. The man praises you, “That’s our girl. Perfect little slut.”
The orgasm is hitting you hard and you’re shaking and trembling so Tommy wraps his arm around your waist holding you tight but still pleasuring you.
They both are watching Tommy’s digits rhythmically disappear inside your dripping hole and your pussy squelches as your creamy cum, pushed out by the intrusion, slides down your ass towards the counter. Finally your climax subsides and your body stills, jerking with aftershocks from time to time.
Joel's thumb leaves your mouth and he holds the back of your neck while you’re trying to catch your breath.
Tommy pulls out his fingers too and lifts them up for the three of you to see. Under the bright lights you see his digits glazed with your juices. A drop of your slick slides down his middle finger and Tommy licks it off and then brings his digits to your mouth. You happily suck them clean while they both are praising you, “that’s our girl”, “like that, angel”, “came so hard for daddy and uncle.”
When you’re done cleaning your stepdad’s fingers off your cum, he cups your cheek and asks softly, “ready to go home, babygirl?” You look at Tommy, whose adoring and hungry gaze makes you tingle again, then at Joel, who’s eating you up with his blown out eyes, his hand palming his huge bulge, and the anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart and pussy flutter.
Batting your eyelashes at the men you give them a shy smile and say “yes.”
******
Thank you for reading!💖
Your comments and reblogs will make me very happy! I’d love to know what you think!❤️
Part IV
General tag list: @nervousmumbling @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist
Series tag list: @milla-frenchy @missannwinchester @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @tammythr @ratoonstown @anama-cara @pedge-page
If you want to be tagged for the series or for everything let me know!💕
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toxicanonymity · 3 months
Note
You can totally say no if your not comfy doing it but maybe you can suggest another writer who you may think might? But if yoir request are open is there anyway I can convince you to write on the topic of reader being Sara's best friend and has tried to come onto Joel multiple times (ie sneaking into his room etc) and then escalating to slipping a roofie into his drink one night while her and Sara are home on winter break from college? If you're not comfortable i totally understand and im sorry if I made you uncomfortable its just your writing for the darker stuff is so amazing 💖
locket.
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2k, joel miller x dark f!reader | master list A/N: here's your 🕊️ in a pear tree 🖤 in a way, it's kinda the inverse of night talks 😅 didn't overthink this one, so FIWB. this is my 3000th tumblr post! WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (44/21), drugs, dosing, f masturbation, dubcon unsafe p in v, somnophilia-ish, choking adjacent move, degradation (both), cum, dead dove december ig (idk if i'll do a deader one this month).
You're tired of her hot Dad playing hard-to-get, and you're going to put an end to it tonight. You've come home with your college roommate, as you often do since your family lives far. Once again, her dad is dressed like a piece of meat. Tight, white, ride-me t-shirt. Cock bulging in his slutty joggers. He’s walking around double cheeked up on a Friday night in front of his daughter’s best friend. His daughter’s best friend who thinks about him every time she touches herself. 
Sarah falls asleep fast, and you can still hear the TV downstairs. You put on your locket, take off your underwear, and adjust your oversized, wide neck t-shirt to make a wardrobe malfunction inevitable with the slightest movement.  You creep down the stairs and pause at the landing, where you lightly caress your nipples, bringing them to full attention. You’re already tingling downstairs. You creep up to the edge of the living room with your arms straight down, pushing your boobs together, hands clasped together near your crotch as if you're cold. And to be fair, the air is a little cool on your bare cunt. You’re dripping for him, and the shirt barely covers your asscheeks.  Joel barely glances, then does a double take.  
His eyes fall on your breasts before reaching your face. His jaw clenches. After a few seconds, he asks, "What?" 
"Sorry to bother you. I couldn't sleep."
"What am I s'posed to do about that," he grumbles, looking away from you, resuming his focus on the television. 
You shiver and briskly rub your arms, feeling the air hit your exposed nipple for a moment, and you ask about changing the thermostat. He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and gets up. You shamelessly ogle the bulge in his gray joggers. While he's on his way to adjust the thermostat, you open your locket and drop a little medicine into his can of beer: half a sleeping pill and half a Viagra. 
In the corner of your eye, Joel is lingering in the hall. He rubs his beard, looking at you while you pretend to look at the TV. He slowly walks forward. "Goddamn slut," he mutters under his breath, and you force away a smile as you sit down.
When Joel returns to the sofa, you're sitting next to his seat.  You bring your knee up to rest on the sofa and feel your pussy exposed.  He picks up a blanket off the other end and sets it in your lap.
"Take this with ya." He picks up his beer, and moves to the easy chair. You don't miss the way he adjusts himself as he settles into the chair. 
You make yourself comfortable, and when you just sit there, he says, "thought ya said ya were cold.”
“I'm comfy now.” 
You sit there in silence watching TV. He finishes his beer and gets another. You keep an eye on him. The sleeping pill seems to hit him first. His eyelids get heavy and he rests his head back on the chair. His breathing is steady. You think you see him getting hard. Yeah, something definitely moves in his joggers. He’s nodding off and jolts awake. He grabs his crotch and mutters, “fuck,” before he remembers you're there. You shift positions to lie on your stomach, facing him, with your ass exposed so he can see your butt cheeks. 
“Go to sleep, darlin’. God damn.” Your heart flutters. Oh, now he’s done for.
“You sure?” You ask and go into a cat pose with your ass higher in the air. 
“Yeah.”  His eyes are half shut. He tries to be subtle about slowly rubbing himself for relief, but you can see just fine.  “Fuck-” he interrupts himself with a yawn.  He shakes his head at you. “gave me somethin’, didn't ya?” 
You wet your lips and look down. “What makes you say that? Do you feel funny?”
“Like you don't know.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. You shift onto your side, then swing your legs around in front of you as you sit up on the sofa. “Well. . .I feel funny, Mr. Miller,” you purr as you spread your legs for him. “Yeah, I feel funny right here.” You slowly, lightly caress your mound near your clit with two fingers, then spread them to trace down your outer lips. 
“Somethin’ wrong with you,” he shakes his head. His brow furrows and he swallows. But he doesn’t leave. . .He looks back at the television. Your body is churning out slick, getting ready for him, but right now it’s going to waste on his sofa. You gather some from your hole and bring it up to your clit. You grab a breast and begin to touch yourself. He’s sleepy, but he's hanging in there. The heel of his palm is planted in his lap. 
When he begins to nod off again, you get up and approach the chair. He stays seated, awake but sleepy, and his breath deepens as you brace your hand on one arm of the chair. You wedge one knee between his outer thigh and the chair’s arm. Then the other side, so you're straddling him. You both look down at his visible erection. He looks up. His lips form a subtle pout, then part slightly. His brown eyes glaze over as he studies your face. 
“Dress like you want it,” you whisper. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You reach for his cock and he gently stops your wrist. 
“I could be your dad,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.
“Please,” you whisper. Your hand doesn't stop, and he doesn't try to stop it anymore as you reach. You grab the rock hard protrusion and he silently grunts from the back of his throat. He’s throbbing against your palm through the thin cotton. Your breath hitches at the first contact. You twitch and ache for him. His brow furrows. 
“‘If you’re gonna do it, do it,” he challenges you in a near whisper. He must be painfully hard. He can't take it. You massage him through the soft fabric. 
Your lips part, and you tilt your head as you read his face. 
He mumbles, “Gonna pussy out?” He cracks a little smile and adds, “with your pussy out?”
You sigh. “You’re so fucking cute.”
“Such a rotten girl,” he murmurs with half lidded eyes as his hands come to your thighs. You shiver in a bolt of pleasure as his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs and slowly run down to your knees, then up to your ass. He squeezes your cheeks, and his cock throbs in your hand. 
“Coward,” he whispers with a snarl and takes his hands away, resting his arms on the chair. 
You brace one hand next to his head on the back of the chair, and your heart shaped locket dangles as you take down his waistband with your free hand. His cock slaps against his white t-shirt, making a wet spot. 
Good Lord. Your mouth falls open. You tug the joggers down more. He grunts softly when you cup his soft, fuzzy balls. Then you release them, grab his shaft, and hear yourself moan. Never felt anything stiffer. It's angry and now the tip is actively oozing. Your mouth waters and your body opens up for him. 
He watches your face, then yawns again. You rub yourself and gather your slick, then wrap your slippery hand around his cock. You scoot your knees forward and hover over it. He inhales through his nose as you lower yourself to make contact. You pause with the tip just inside. It's already a stretch, but deeper inside,  your core is begging for more. Your entrance spasms around his tip.  He gasps and tenses, gripping the arms of the chair as you begin to sink down.  He closes his eyes and winces as his cock divides your walls and you moan as your bodies become flush. You sit on his dick while your body makes space for him and you get even wetter. 
“Fu–ohh” he tilts his head back. His neck veins strain. He's so goddamn hot. 
You slowly tilt your hips and let out only an inch of him before bottoming out again. His cock takes up so much space inside you. You look down between  your bodies. His white shirt has ridden up to expose the happy trail and the slight pudge of his lower belly. His stomach heaves with deep breaths. You begin to move on him, slowly. 
“Ahhh, fuhh-uhhhk,” he sighs. His brows knit together and he watches you ride him. 
You tilt your hips, seeking the pressure of your clit nudging his body. “Yeah,” you breathe and move a little faster. Your necklace swings, the silver heart getting closer and closer to him. Then his hand flies up to wrap around your neck, trapping the chain. His grip isn’t firm, but the presence of his hand around your throat is enough to freeze you on his cock and give you a surge of need. Your pussy spasms, your slick walls begging for the friction they've earned. 
“You’re sick,” he mutters, then his hips punch up and he sighs. He lets go of your throat, then tugs your shirt down under your tits. 
“Fuck,” he sighs, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva. He reaches out and palms your breasts, then hooks his hands under your arms. He watches your tits move with your rhythm. 
“How many times have you thought about this,” you ask. 
“I don't think about it,” he claims, but his face says constantly. You massage your own breasts as you ride him, and he sighs. Hopefully he can't get enough. Hopefully he comes back for more. You roll your hips with a moan. That's why you didn't use a roofie - He needs to remember this. He needs to need it. “Mmm.” Maybe he’ll be desperate, mad. As he watches you ride him, his eyelids begin to droop again. Maybe he’ll be mad enough to take it. 
You gently slap his cheek. “Stay with me,” you command, and begin to ride him harder. You slot your fingers into his hair. “When's the last time you came,” you ask, massaging his scalp as you move on his cock. “Hmm?” You pause with his cock all the way inside, and he twitches inside you. “Hmm?”
“Days,” he whispers. You start rolling your hips again. “Been days, ohhh–fuck.”
“You're gonna come inside,” you nod. His cock twitches again. 
“Ohh, fuck. Are you–ohhh,” he sighs, “are you–ugghh.” 
“It's okay,” you reassure him, “It's okay.” God, the thought of Mr. Miller nutting in your cunt has gotten you over the edge so many times alone. You're close. You bring your body closer against his and grind your clit into him, your body moving his swollen manhood, subtly rocking it as your clit presses into his pubic hair and your insides swell with the pressure of pent up pleasure. “Ohh, God,” you sigh and feel your body tighten, tighten, almost there. “Ohh, fuck,” you pant. 
“Ohh,” he moans and his hips lift under you. The tension snaps and your clit pulses, making you whine. You grind into him as you pulse, release pressure, pulse, release more, losing yourself in waves of release. 
“Oh, God,” you moan, fluttering around his stiff cock. 
“Ugggh,” he groans and his hands come to your ass. He begins to move you on his cock as your climax wanes. He moves you harder and moans unrestrained. He grits his teeth, and his fingertips dig into the plush of your ass. ”Ohh,” he sighs and fucking erupts. 
“Oh shit,” you whine, and keep clenching around him with warm bursts of him flooding your core. “Ohh God.” 
“Oh, fuck,” he pants, bursting again and again, filling you with his seed. “Ohhh,” his pulses fade and you come to a rest in his lap. He lays back against the chair breathing heavily. You lean forward and hug him. He doesn't have the energy to push you away. Soon, he's snoring and you're just sitting there enjoying the fullness of his cock and cum. 
“Mmm,” you sigh softly and begin to push yourself up. You let his cock out and some of his cum comes with it. You scoop it up from around his tip and draw a heart on his shirt, imagining how cute it'll be when it's dry and hard. Then you get off the chair entirely and draw a few small hearts of cum on his joggers. You pull the waistband up for him, then plant a kiss on his lips before leaving him there. Then you go back upstairs and put on your underwear before you get back in his daughter's bed. 
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Thank you so much for reading, ILY 💖 If you really like dark reader, you might wanna try my ghostface series every inch (there is also some power struggle/shift).
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I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.
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rvfecamerons · 2 months
Note
How would dark!rafe with equally dark!reader react to reader baby trapping him out of jealousy or something like that ? Love your work!!
(tw baby trapping, mentions of cheating, reader is kinda delulu lol, swearing, implied abusive relationship)
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“what? how the…how the fuck did this happen?”
rafe racked his brain for answers. he knew you were on birth control, so how could he possibly be staring at a positive pregnancy test, one that you claimed to be yours?
he fixed you with a hard look; it was the first time he’d looked up from the white stick in his hand since you presented it to him.
you simply shrugged, shoulders rising and falling naturally, “maybe because you fuck me raw every night?”
rafe rose to his feet at that, and you craned your neck to follow his gaze. he stepped towards you but you didn’t back down, instead placing a hand on your hip; something you knew would push even more of your boyfriend’s buttons.
“you’re on birth control.” he spoke, matter of factly.
you were quick to debunk him though with a quick, “was.”
rafe stared you down, eyes narrowed your direction as he posed his next question, “what did you do?” he spoke so low, you could hardly hear him over your heart beating in your chest. his tone was laced with a vitriol that would’ve scared you, if you didn’t have the upper hand right now.
“i did what i had to do.”
the short sentence confirmed what rafe didn’t want to believe; you’d stopped taking your birth control with the hopes of tricking him into getting you pregnant.
rafe was oblivious to the fact that you’d gone through his phone; found a string of texts and calls between him and his ex-girlfriend. worried that your financial beacon would walk out on you, you’d decided to take matters into your own hands.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
you only blinked up at him in response, a smug look attached to your face.
“no, i mean seriously, the fuck is wrong with you? are you fucking stupid? you wanna ruin our lives or-or what?”
“i’m ruining our lives? oh, that’s fucking rich.”
you stepped towards him again, both of your chests brushing against each others.
“i know you’ve been talking to your ex,” you blurted out. “…and i know you wanna leave me. so i took care of it.” you spoke so non-chalantly, like you hadn’t just roped the two of you into an eighteen year commitment, a lifelong tie to each other.
when rafe grabbed you this time, you didn’t freak out. your hands flew to his own, you gasped at the most, but when he curled a single hand around your throat, thumb digging into the space just beneath your jaw, you couldn’t help but smirk up at him.
“careful,” you managed to choke out through his tight grip, “don’t wanna hurt the baby.”
a sarcastic laugh spilled from rafe’s lips as he shook his head at you, “you crazy fucking bitch.”
stars had just begun to cloud your vision when rafe finally let you go, releasing you with a harsh shove by your throat. your legs instantly buckled, sending you collasping to the floor.
you laughed as you pushed yourself up onto your knees, coughing and trying to catch your breath.
“a crazy bitch that’s carrying your baby, now,” you corrected. “you can’t put your hands on me anymore.”
when you looked up at your boyfriend, his hands were balled into fists as his sides, jaw clenched; he looked like he wanted nothing more than to lay into you, retaliation for the situation you’d quite literally trapped him in. worse than that, he honestly looked like he wanted to kill you. you’d seen the look before; you were lucky you had a tiny life festering inside of you, because it was probably the only thing saving you from rafe’s true wrath.
you watched the realization wash over rafe that you were right; he couldn’t hurt you, because they may be able to overlook you and your injuries at the hands of rafe… but no amount of family donations could keep the police department from pursuing charges against him in defense of an unborn baby.
rafe seemed to put this together, and that’s when he turned away from you. you watched his chest heave up and down before he stomped over to the other side of the room, letting out a scream of frustration as he cleared his dresser of all the items stacked on top. it wasn’t enough to channel his anger though, so rafe turned to the nearby wall and sunk his fist into it, no mind paid to the pain he had to feel as the drywall cracked and broke around his hand.
when he turned to face you now, you were on your feet again, straightening yourself out and regaining your composure.
all rafe could do was eye you down, lip curled inward as he tried to restrain himself from doing something he might regret.
you fixed him with a faux pout, jutting your bottom lip out and rubbing a hand over your stomach tauntingly.
“three years, rafe.” you started with another step his direction. “you tried to throw all this away after three whole years…”
he tensed when you reached for his hand, jerking it back and fleeing from your touch. your hand was more firm when you made a second grab for him, snatching his wrist and luring his hand to your stomach and stretching on your tiptoes to reach his ear.
“…now you just bought yourself eighteen more with me.”
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blueicequeen19 · 9 months
Note
Hi, my love. I’m here with a request and a spicy lil thought. Jealous!Rafe marking his territory on Fem!Reader and not holding back in the slightest. I’m talking degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, you name it, I want it all. I can’t wait to see what you and your beautiful brain comes up with!
Warnings: all of them - dubcon?, public humiliation, spitting, choking, dry humping, degradation, party scene
Rafe’s jaw ticks as he watches you. You know you’ve fucked up. That’s your problem. Always too nice. So when the sweet guy at the party gets too friendly, too touchy, and too in your personal space, you know your punishment will be severe just by the look on Rafe’s face. You grab Rafe’s drink and brush past the guy, making your way over to Rafe with your head down.
You offer it to Rafe but he shakes his head, glaring at you with murderous blue eyes.
“Drink it.” Rafe demands in a low voice that goes straight to your core. You gulp, eyeing the whiskey in the glass.
“Rafe..”
“Get on your knees and drink it.” Rafe bites out, widening his legs as he leans further into the chair. You look around, meeting the cocky grins of Topper and Kelc before facing Rafe again. Your knees shake as you lower yourself to the floor, your cheeks heating with humiliation. You throw back the drink, the whiskey burning all the way down your throat and into your belly.
“Good girl.” Rafe praises, making your cheeks burn brighter. He leans forward in his chair, resting on strong forearms with a devilish smirk.
“You want to act like a bitch in heat and flirt with every guy here, I’ll treat you like a dog. For the rest of the night, you’ll stay on your knees.”
“But Rafe—.”
“Does my dog need a bone? Want me to shove my cock down your throat?” Rafe taunts, raising a challenging brow at you as his friends snicker. You sit back on your heels, willing yourself to remain silent.
“That’s what I thought. Keep your mouth shut and sit there and look pretty for me.” Rafe bites out, leaning forward to untie the strings on the front of your dress to reveal your prominent cleavage. You clamp your mouth shut as he slides his hands inside the cups of the dress to give each of your breasts a squeeze.
“These are nice, baby. Let’s show everybody.” You don’t get time to object before he yanks the thin straps down your shoulders, revealing you to his friends and anyone who walks by. You fight back tears of embarrassment as they gawk at you, your nipples hardening painfully.
“What’s wrong, baby? You wanted another guys attention. Now you have all of it. Every guy here is getting to look at your beautiful tits.” Rafe says in that condescending, mocking voice of his before leaning back in his seat to stare at you. A single tear slides down your cheek but Rafe catches it with his thumb and brings it to his mouth.
“You know your tears don’t work on me. I love it when you cry.” Rafe smirks, leaning back in the chair and letting you see the massive bulge in his pants.
“Rafe.. please..”
“Crawl towards me. Ass in the air.” Rafe demands, narrowing his eyes at you in frustration. He didn’t tolerate your disobedience. You lowered yourself to trembling hands as you crawled the few feet it took to end up between his legs. The cool air reached between your thighs as you made sure to do as he said, your ass and pussy practically on display for everyone else.
You looked up at Rafe through your fake lashes as he leaned forward, gently sliding his hand into the back of your hair and tugging back.
Your lips part on their own and Rafe takes the opportunity to spit directly in your mouth onto your tongue. Someone chuckles nearby but you’re too frozen in place to move or protest. Rafe does it again and heat crawls up your neck as his warm saliva coats your tongue.
“Swallow.” Rafe says in a low warning voice that shouldn’t be sexy. You obey, humiliation by the act and how wet you were.
“Now take out my cock and suck it.”
“But—.” Your eyes dart from side to side, a party still in full swing around you but Rafe tightens his hold in your hair, making you whimper.
“Choke on my cock or get out.” Rafe spats, his handsome face morphing into an angry scowl. You didn’t want to leave and you weren’t sure if this was a test or not. Would he come after you if you refused? Or would he replace you? Another snicker comes from his friends and your face beats further with humiliation.
“You know what, I have something better. I want you to ride my boot. Get yourself off on my laces like the desperate bitch you are.” Rafe smirks. Dread fills you because some how that is worse than sucking him off in front of all these people. Now he wanted you to dry hump him.
“Rafe—I—.” His hand finds your throat, bringing you in for a quick peck on the lips that leaves you hungry for more as he slips his foot between your parted thighs. His presses the laces against your slit and you whimper, hating your bodies reaction from the slightest bit of attention he gives.
“Make me happy and I’ll reward you.” Rafe murmurs against your lips, encouraging to move on your own in search of friction from his boot. Someone curses and there’s the sound of a zipper but you refuse to look, focusing on the feel of Rafe’s lips. “That’s my girl. Show all these people what a good slut you are for me. Make them all jealous.”
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tori-peony · 5 months
Text
writers pls I ask that u give me a dark!reader, toxic!reader, mean!reader, jealous!reader, obsessed!reader, possessive!reader just a reader who acts all innocent around everyone else but when its abt her man she’s a crazy bitch who needs therapy
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belovedvenom · 29 days
Text
fight fire with fire.
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when i said you don’t take any of rafe’s shit i meant it
pairing: dark!crybaby!rafe cameron x reader
synopsis: your boyfriend accuses you of flirting with someone at a party causing an argument to ensue. what happens when he snaps and you snap back..
warnings: slight domestic violence (reader hits his ass back), swearing, dark!reader (kinda? sorta?) dark!crybaby!rafe but lets be real……thats just rafe lmao
a/n: the synopsis isn’t the best i’m sorry, my brain malfunctioned. this idea has been eating at me and i’ve changed the scenario like 3 times. the ending wasn’t what i planned originally but i hope you enjoy! pls comment, reblog, like! feedback is always appreciated <33
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“bet you won’t disrespect me like that again, hmm?”
you held your breath, hand pressed against your cheek. the stinging in your face and the throbbing in your throat from his where his grip had been confirming what you already knew. brain going a mile a minute as your kept your gaze on the ground and that infuriated rafe even more.
grabbing both sides of your face to force your attention back to him. 
“hmm?! don’t- dont you ever raise you voice at me like that again. don’t you ever fix your lips to fucking swear at me like that.” he sneered, shaking you violently causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. “do i make myself clear?” 
“look at me when i’m talking to you!” you snap them open— wide eyes staring into his. “now i asked you a question. do i make myself clear?” 
he removes his hands from your face when you let out a yes. nodding his head, stepping back to run a hand across his mouth with a huff. 
all this because someone had flirted with you at a house party. rafe didn’t like how another guy, a pogue at that, had the nerve to walk up and talk to you. he especially didn’t like that you “entertained” him. you weren’t, you were making nice, friendly conversation while you got a drink. but rafe didn’t see that, he saw you smiling at another dude that wasn’t him and already planted the idea in his head that you wanted that "dirty pogues" attention instead of his. 
so he charged over to you and dragged you to his truck, no words spoken. ignoring all your concerned questions. 
when you got home is when he snapped. chastising you for flirting with someone else. pacing back and forth, voice getting loud. “the fuck is wrong with you? flirting with that pogue. humiliating me like that.” confused and hurt is all you felt as he accused you of wanting someone else so you defended yourself. he wasn’t hearing any of it tho. so your voice raised a bit, wanting to get it thru to him but to rafe it was af it you screamed at him. saying how this is ridiculous and “you’re being a fucking asshole.” 
that was the last thing you got out before his hand was on your throat and your head whipped violently to the side. 
you let out a shaky breath as you stare at him with wrath that was hidden by faux fear. 
he looks back at you, letting out a long sigh. “look baby..” voice now calm, and quiet as he walked back into your space. “listen i- i know i shouldn’t take my anger out on you like that, okay. but… you- you can’t talk back to me like that, a’ight. i know you can be a good girl, you just need a little discipline s’all.” he eyed you, focusing at your cheek. “cause cussing at me like? tsk, you’ll have bigger problems than a little sl-“ 
he wasn’t able to get out the rest of his words before you delivered a swift slap to his face. catching him off guard causing his head to whip to the side. he recovers quickly, looking back at you with a look that would make anyone else cower in a corner and tremble but before he can retaliate you strike him again. your nails scratching him in the mix making him step back with a hiss— pressing a hand to his cheek he pulls it back it to see his fingers stained crimson. three cuts adorning his face. eyes filled with tears.
your quick to walk up to him, grabbing his jaw tight. nails pressing into his skin— digging deeper when he grabs your wrist. 
“don’t…” you start, licking your lips. “don’t you ever…. lay your hands on me like that again.” you spoke lowly, bringing his face closer to yours. eyes locked on his tear filled ones. “i will fucking bury you, you understand me?” you shake his head bit, making him wince from your nails going deeper. "let g-" you squeeze his lips together. “don’t think that just because i love you i won’t throw back what you give me times 10.” you other hand wipes a tear that falls from his eye. “my love, i’d do anything for you but..” your eyes narrow. “hit me again and you’ll have bigger problems than a couple of claw marks. do i make myself clear?” you mock and don’t let go until he croaks out “okay” releasing his face with a little shove. blood seeping through the indents from your grip. you ignore the whimper he lets out and head towards the bathroom. “sit on the couch” not checking to make sure he does. you know he will. 
coming back with the first aid kit, you sit on his lap and begin cleaning his cuts in silence. thumb softly rubbing against his cheek when he lets out a hiss from the alcohol. placing a bandage on the cuts, you place a kiss on top. 
“baby look at me”
he lifts his eyes to meet yours— red from irritation making you frown, leaning forward to press a kiss to his eyelids. he sighs softly, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. you comb your fingers through his hair, feeling his grip tighten. “we okay?” he bites his bottom lip, hand reaching up to caress the cheek he made contact with. you close your eyes with a soft sigh. feeling his lips press to your skin, he mutters against it, “yeah. we’re okay”. it's quiet for a while before he breaks it. "i- i'm gonna get my shit together, ya know. 'm gonna do better. be a better man for you. i promise. i j... you- don't leave me a'ight." his eyes start to well up with tears again. "please- you can't- just don't leave, okay. you.. you gotta see." repeatedly pointing to his chest as his voice cracks. "gonna show you how 'm a be someone you deserve. you just gotta stick with me baby. i promise. i promise you."
you grab his hand, pressing kisses to his knuckles to quiet his babbles. "hey. hey." his body jolted from your voice snapping a bit but he still uttered on causing you to sigh and grab his throat. tight. forcing his head up to pay attention to you. he sniffed loudly, wide eyes staring back in to yours. “i love you, you know that, yeah?” he nodded his head. “okay.” you circled your thumb softly over his skin, a show of affection. “show me then”
you leaned your forehead against his. "and don’t try that shit again."
329 notes · View notes
lavendrrsfield · 4 months
Text
perverted ; ghost
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➛ synopsis ; you hope this makes him realize how much he truly means to you… even if it was messed up.
➛ pairing ; simon “ghost” riley x dark!f!reader.
➛ contents and warnings ; mdni. noncon/dubcon. obsession. kidnapping. dark!fic. stalking. possessive behaviour. delusions of love. slight victim mentality. a little bit of degradation. implied voyeurism. manipulation. power imbalance. slight d/s undertones. implied drugging. you don’t wanna hurt him that much:(. handjobs. mention of blood. smut. orgasm denial. breeding kink. piv. unprotected sex. no after-care. baby-trapping. ooc!ghost???
➛ word count ; 3.7k
a/n ; i don’t know what this is😭 he’d def kill you if you tried this thou c:
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sick and obsessed — those words would probably be best to describe you when they find out what you did. you knew you shouldn't have flirted with him when you knew it would've ended like this, but it was partially simon's fault. it was partially his fault for even encouraging it, for entertaining it, for being the reason why you, the sweet, innocent little nurse fell so hard for him after he fucked you so good. it was all his fault the way you reacted the way you did when you saw him flirting with another girl that wasn't you.
all of it was his fault on why he was here now. jealousy can be an ugly thing, especially for someone like you— the little nurse who worked in the infirmary for the military, hiding behind the facade of something so sickly innocent. none of this would have happened if he just kept his mouth shut around other women, if he didn't look at them. if he didn't touch them like he touched you... or maybe, you shouldn't have been watching them in the first place, but it was just too good to stop.
the way he sounded, the way he looked during it all, the sweat dripping down his body as he thrusted into that woman— it was all too hypnotizing. it was his fault, if anything. if he wasn't so hot, maybe it wouldn't have happened. you did nothing wrong in your eyes, you just wanted to keep him safe and that was good enough for you.
you were sat across from his sleeping, restrained body. your head tilted to the side, eyes void of emotions, yet your face still had the same innocent expression that you always wore. you played with the hem of your little pink dress, waiting patiently for him to wake up and realize where you were— that being in a dimly lit room, walls made out of concrete with a little window in the corner, allowing the fresh air and refreshing sunlight  to come through.
the lamp that rested on the bedside table next to the bed he was sleeping on, casting a beautiful little shadow over his features. the metal restraints that held him down gleamed brightly against the dim light, your eyes tracing the lines of his unconscious body, wondering when he'd wake up. 'maybe it was because i tucked him in too tightly.' you thought to yourself.
then, that was when he started to stir awake. you immediately casted your gaze back to his face, watching intently as simon's eyes fluttered open, a small excited smile grew on your face and his senses slowly returning to him. his head throbbed with a dull ache, his body feeling oddly heavy and restricted. confused, he blinked a few times, his gaze adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. his heart lurched in his chest as he realized the restraints holding him in place, his body tensing instinctively.
his gaze shifted to your figure sitting across from him, your innocent appearance in stark contrast to the dangerous situation he found himself in. it took a moment for it to register, but recognition flickered in his eyes as he locked gazes with the sweet little nurse he had encountered before. who he had fucked before. your expression was unsettlingly calm, a touch of something darker lurking beneath the surface.
simon's voice was rough as he spoke, his tone laced with equal parts irritation and curiosity. "well, isn't this a lovely surprise. what's with the game? we're resorting to kidnapping, are we?" his eyes flickered to the restraints, his muscles tensing against them as he tested their strength. you saw that, leaning forward as you placed a gentle hand on his wrist, shaking your head. "i'll admit, i'm impressed by your audacity."
you scooted your chair closer to the bed, your hands still wrapped around his wrist to create some semblance of comfort— if it was even comforting. you saw how he flinched as soon as you touched him, and you frowned, your disappointment evident in your face. you tsk'd, the little sound filling the small room and you shook your head.
"please don't pull on your restraints, you'll hurt yourself and we don't want that, do we?" you scolded, words dripping with mockery, you were talking to him as if he was a kid getting in trouble for eating ice cream in the morning. you roughly pulled back his wrist to its original placing, hoping he'd get the message. all you wanted him was to stop pulling on his restraints. was that so hard to ask for?
simon's eyes narrowed, glaring at you, and if looks could kill, you'd definitely be dead by now. he felt a lump in his throat, the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of his stomach— yet, he tried acting like it didn't bother him, like it was just a simple day, so he kept a neutral expression. "cut the bullshit and answer my damn question." he spat, his voice rough and gruff, he didn't even try to hide the annoyance that oozed in his words. "i thought nurses were supposed to be caring, not vindictive little bitches who take hostages."
a little laugh left your mouth, an almost cheerful look on your face as you smiled sweetly at his expression, shrugging nonchalantly at his question. you were acting like it was a usual day at the infirmary with the constant questions from different soldiers throughout the day. your eyebrows furrowed and the cheerful expression you had on your face fell at the mention of you taking him hostage, you shook your head quickly.
"it's not really vindictive... ish. i just wanna- i don't know. they don't deserve you, they'll only hurt you, you know?" you mumbled, truthfully. a small pout on your face, voicing your concerns out loud, acting as if you were the victim in all this. you removed your hands from his wrist once you realized that he was slowly starting to relax, leaning back into the chair. "oh, and you're not a hostage. i mean, you don't have to be."
simon raised an eyebrow at your explanation, studying your face for any signs of deception or insincerity. despite himself, he couldn't help but find the situation somewhat amusing— or maybe it was just the absurdity of it all. "bullshit," he said, tone hardening slightly as he looked around the dimly lit room. "you kidnap me and call it concern? come on, i'm not that gullible." simon shrugged off your claims, speaking through gritted teeth. he slightly pulling on the restraints, testing the strength of it once more, only for you to reach forward, shaking your head as you held down his wrists again.
your eyes rolled in annoyance, huffing softly, and you gave him a pointed look. "yeah, totally not gullible... you definitely didn't come to my place when i asked you to, but to be fair, you only thought we'd be fucking today." you mused softly, caressing the top of his hands as you held him down, not wanting the extra stress of him hurting himself. "you're being very difficult right now. it's- it's frustrating. just stop fighting and relax, i won't hurt you." you added, taking up a motherly tone in hopes that he'd stop.
"frustrating? you trying to kidnap me is fucking frustrating." he retorted, pulling his hand away from your touch.
for what seemed like the umpteenth time, you rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up in frustration. you got up from the chair, his eyes watching you as if to make sure you wouldn't do anything drastic as you made your way to the little nightstand beside the bed. you poured him a cup of water, figuring that he might be thirsty after being asleep for more than 18 hours— it was the least you can do.
you turned towards him, taking a few steps closer to him but abruptly stopping as he flinched when you grew nearer. you scoffed at his audacity, crouching down beside him and placed a straw he can drink from. "here, drink this. its water, you must be thirsty." you spoke, your voice soft while you held the cup close to his face, hoping he'd take the drink.
he paused for a moment, looking at the cup of water in your hands, suspiciously, he shook his head. he opened his mouth to speak again, "i came over because i wanted to leave things as they were between us, you know, no strings attached fuckery." he said, dryly— not wanting to give you much attention or anything that made it seem like he was remotely interested. he just wanted this to be over.
your lips pursed, nodding along to his words, acting as if it didn't hurt you. you shrugged, getting up from your crouching position and took a seat on his bed. your body turns to face him, your head tilting to the side as you pouted softly. "but this isn't really no strings attached, is it? you at my beck and call, and all that." you wanted to smile as soon as you heard simon scoff, but you kept that little pout on your face, your grip around the cup tightening.
simon looked at you then to the cup of water, his eyes narrowing slightly. "no strings attached means no expectations or attachments," he corrected, his tone unemotional— with that said, simon leaned back against the bed, resting his head on the pillow and looking up at the ceiling. if he ignored you long enough, he hoped that you would be bored and leave him.
a laugh tore from your throat like it was the funniest thing he said. you bent down, placing the cup on the floor before going back to your original position. you reached your hand forward, clearly filled with a dark intention. "i know what it means... i'm just saying that you didn't follow through with it, ya know?" you mumbled, your voice weakening as you placed your hand on his thigh, feeling him tense his body under your touch.
"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his teeth clenching, trying to wiggle away from your hand that kept inching closer and closer to his crotch and his heart raced in his chest.
"just relax... i just want you to relax, you're too tense." you purred seductively, your hand moved higher up his leg, brushing against his crotch through his pants before moving to palm his pants-clad crotch. you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered oh-so softly. "besides, you're a man... isn't this what you like?"
this wasn't how it was supposed to go down, but the warmth emanating from your body and the softness of your voice had him conflicted. he tried to ignore your light caress on his crotch, he closed his eyes, imagining himself someplace else— someplace safe. his cock twitched in response to your touch, hardening with each soft stroke of your hand on top of his pants, making you smile softly against his skin.
you placed open-mouthed kisses on the soft spot of his neck, slowly moving towards his jawline, completely ignoring the way his body grew rigid and the protests that fell from his lips.
"let me go, and we can discuss this like bloody rational adults." he growled through gritted teeth, his eyes opening as he glared at you, and the heat in his core was raising rapidly. "you're fucking sick—"
"i promise i'll play nice, just relax for me." you mumbled, your voice was almost pleading while you pulled away from the crevice of his neck, making eye contact with him. "i know you like it... you love it." you whispered again. you continued to stroke him through his pants, his cock hard and heavy in his pants, instantly reacting to your touch.
simon arched his hips into your touch, moaning low in his throat despite himself, quickly covering it with a cough. his erection straining against the restrictive fabric of his pants, growing increasingly evident. despite his better judgment screaming at him to resist, his body betrayed him, reacting to your touch like a moth drawn to a flame.
"goddamn it... stop..." he growled out between heavy breaths, trying and failing to maintain control over his raging desire. "this is fucking ridiculous, this ain't what i want, you fucking bitch." the words fell from his lips unbidden, part embarrassment, part frustration, and mostly desire, but he couldn't bring himself to push you away— yet, all you did was laugh softly at his current predicament.
your fingers worked deftly at the button of his pants, slowly sliding down the zipper. the cool breeze caressed his exposed cock, making it twitch violently in anticipation despite his protests that fell on deaf ears. "then why are you hard, huh? you can't tell me to stop when your body says the exact opposite." you taunt. you moaned softly, your hand brushing against his hardened member before teasingly stroking him through his boxers.
"y/n, i said stop..." he groaned, unable to form coherent words as you continued your tormenting touches around his sensitive cock.
slowly, you lowered his boxers, releasing his cock from the confines of his boxers, exposing him to the cold air of the basement room. pre-cum leaked from his reddened tip, as you dragged your thumb over it. "you say that, but i really think you don't want me to stop. so pathetic, really." you whispered, bringing your thumb to your mouth as you sucked intently, making intense eye contact with him as you groaned lowly at the salty taste that hit your tongue.
again, you brought your hands to his cock, wrapping your hands around his shaft and did a few experimental strokes— a grin grew on your face, his hips instinctively bucking into your hand. his lips were pursed, trying to muffle the sounds of his groans that were so desperate to be heard.
leaning over his body, your free hand moving towards his hair as you tugged gently— eliciting a small moan from him. your lips brushing against his ears. "tell me how good i make you feel, how much you want this." you purred, your words barely above a whisper as you continued your torturous ministrations to his cock, stroking him slowly and firmly.
"n-no, fuck this shit... fu-"  he stuttered, his voice was weak, his words coming out strained and breathy. he struggled futilely against the restraints once more, feeling helpless and vulnerable under your grasp— exactly where you wanted. simon's chest heaved rapidly, his breath coming out hitched in sharp gasps, and sweat formed on his brow as your skilled touch sent wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his body.
you continued to stroke him slowly, enjoying the sound of his moans reverberating throughout the dimly lit space. "so eager for me, aren't you? it's fucking hilarious." you teased, looking down at his strained features. "i guess somethings never change, huh?"
seconds passed, you started increasing the tempo, your grip around his cock getting more firm and more fast, determined to get him to his release faster. the head of his cock leaked copious amounts of precum, staining your hand. you knew exactly how to push his buttons, and gods above, you relished in his tormented pleas.
simon's body shook with each stroke, his moans turning into grunts of pure ecstasy. "goddamn you..." he growled out between pants, his hips moving in sync with your hand movements.
"y/n... please..." he begged, his voice hoarse from desire. his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, his body tensing up, tugging at the restraints that held him down— before releasing a jolt of hot cum that coated your hand and his stomach, staining his clothes. his breathing went ragged as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
you giggled softly, "hmm, i knew you couldn't help yourself. just a stupid little boy, thinking with his dick, aren't you?" you taunt, still stroking his now half-hard cock, helping him through the aftershocks of his orgasm until he was basically twitching under your touch.
"i'll rip your bloody little throat apart..." was all he could manage to mutter out, his face flushed crimson with embarrassment and arousal, his body felt like it had gone limp, visibly relaxing.
with sudden movements, you removed your hands from his cock and wiped the sticky residue from his cum onto your dress with little regard.
you quickly straddle him, your thighs on opposite sides of his hips. you lifted your dress up to your waist, revealing the little lacy panty you wore— just for him and his eyes only. he was heavy breathing under you, his hips bucking in anticipation as he waited almost impatiently, ready to feel your walls wrapped around him once again. you reached down, moving your panty to the side before grabbing his semi-hard cock, hovering over it.
rubbing his red tip against your wet folds, moaning softly at the sensation of it brushing against your clit. slowly, you started sinking yourself down, wincing at the stretch as he groaned loudly, both of your sounds mixing creating a beautiful symphony. your head tilted back, mouth opened as soft moans passed through your parted lips, and your cunt clenched around his cock, trying to accommodate to his size— no matter how many times he fucked you in the past, you were never really used to the size of his cock.
simon groans in ecstasy, his eyes widening in pleasure as he feels the tightness of your wet pussy enveloping him completely, you were squeezing every single inch of him. finally, you bottomed out, your nails digging into his shirt-clad chest, your eyes fluttering shut and it was almost like your lungs were rid of air.
"move, please.." he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as his hips bucked upwards, wanting to get you to move. the feeling of your nails digging into his chest only seemed to heightened the pleasure that coursed through his entire being.
"it's soft and warm and i really like it in my home, it could be soft and warm for you too." you managed to say through little pants. you felt absolutely full to the brim, your eyes glazed over with desire. "you could grow to like it, we could be in love and have a family."
after a while, with renewed determination, you started off with small grinds, just getting used to his size. the room was filled with both of your moans and grunts, along with the sounds of your slickness. as your body grew more used to his size, your grinding movements starting turning into small bounces on his cock— you leaned back, arching your back as your hands resting on his thighs, digging your nails into his skin, leaving crescent shaped marks in its wake.
without waiting for a response from him, you whined lowly, digging your nails deeper into his skin, drawing a bit blood. "d-don't you want that with me? don't you wanna cum in me and- fuck, and give me all your babies? make me your pretty little wife?" you urged, words coming out weak and stuttered while you rode him like your life depended on it.
at the sight of you using him to fuck yourself and the words you spoke only intensified his arousal by tenfold, he was completely intoxicated by the sight. a guttural moan ripped from his throat, his hips buck upward, meeting each of your downward movements forcefully, driving himself deeper inside you.
"y/n. yes, god, yes..." he managed to mutter, unable to deny the reality of his situation. his cock twitched slightly, revealing that he wasn't entirely done yet. "just shut up, you're fucking r-relentless." he growled, voice hoarse from pleasure.
he was stretching your tight cunt further than you thought possible, the sensation of your wetness coating him from head to base ignites a fresh wave of need within him— making him feel invincible. he moans loudly, losing control of himself, the initial reluctance now long gone. he pulled fruitlessly at his restraints, aching to feel you, to take control— he could feel his inhibitions melting away like ice on a hot summer day.
with each bounce on his cock, every moan and grunt that tore from you and simon’s throats— you felt that coil in your stomach tightening, signalling your nearing release. you removed one hand from his thighs, finding its way to between your own thighs where you started playing with your sensitive nub. your thighs tremble, struggling to continue to move as your orgasm approaches. his cock is so deep, brushing against your cervix with each thrust into you.
“ffuck… is my baby gonna come with me?” you spoke, words coming out rushed and breathless. he groaned, unable to resist the sensation of your gummy walls contracting around him. “come for me, simon. please.”
once those words left your mouth, simon's cock throbbed inside you, ready to explode. his hands loosened their grip on the bed sheets, digits tensing and uncurling as he prepared for his own climax. “i— i’m close..." he managed to croak out between heavy pants, his voice barely audible over the sound of your combined moans.
another thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, and without warning, he groaned loudly, filling her with his hot seed. with a final cry, you joined him in ecstasy, your walls contracting around him tightly, milking every drop of cum from his spent member.
as minutes seemed to pass, the room was completely silent, along with both of your heavy breathing combined. you took a second to collect yourself, pulling yourself from his now-soft cock as he groaned softly at the overstimulation, and you adjusted your panties— never allowing his come to escape, after all, you needed it to have his babies. you removed yourself from the bed, now standing above him as you smiled down at his exposed, sweaty body. you leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead.
“i’ll be back in a few hours with dinner.” you whispered into his ears, turning around to make your exit.
240 notes · View notes
winterrrnight · 4 days
Text
heartless
PAIRING: rafe cameron x dark!fem!pogue!reader
SUMMARY: rafe finds out you've been dating him only for the money.
WARNINGS: dark content! dark!reader, naive!rafe, reader is a liar, a manipulator, dishonest, two faced, takes a big advantage of rafe, usage of guns, threatening, poor rafe is oblivious to it all (he's just blinded by one sided love), minimal swearing, minimal usage of nicknames, alcohol consumption, reader lowkey believes in toxic masculinity, rafe is kinda a crybaby, it's also longer than my usual stuff + please let me know if I missed something!
EDITH SPEAKS: my second ever dark!fic! just like before, dark!content is something I've just gotten into, so this clearly isn't the best dark stuff you've read, but I promise I put in a 100% effort. please please heed all the warnings and make sure you proceed only if you are comfortable with each and every single one of them! if you liked reading this, please reblog and please please let me know what you think of this! 🌩️
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somewhere far along this road he lost his soul to a woman so heartless
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
You enter Tannyhill, a huge smile on your face as your fingers remain hooked through the expensive branded gift bags, the black credit card of your near and dear boyfriend in the back pocket of your pants.
“Baby I’m home!” You say out loud as you enter, keeping the humongous amount of gift bags in your hand on the couch of the living room. You hear footsteps echo as they transcend down the stairs, and you turn around to see Rafe making his way to you.
“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips. “What did you get?”
You gesture your head to the couch and Rafe sees the enormous amount of bags on the couch. He knows you like to shop, and he never refuses to buy you anything because he believes you deserve it so much; never ever denying you when you approach him with a puppy dog look on your face asking for a shopping trip, which basically melts him into a puddle.
He always accompanies you to your shopping trips, his arm slinging around your shoulders as you both hit store after store in the mall, buying whatever you ask for, and he doesn’t think twice before swiping his card in the machine. He knows you haven’t lived in the best financial conditions as you grew up; that’s what it meant if you lived on The Cut. When you got together, he was more than determined to always give you gifts, his way of covering up all the things he believed you deserved to have but never had a chance to own.
But today, you suddenly had a need to hit the mall again when you had been there not even a week ago, and you had already bought a lot. But Rafe isn’t one to say no to you; how can he say no to your cute face? So you are sent off with a driver with his credit card given safely to you as he himself is busy with some business work.
And right now, here you are with the biggest number of handbags he’s ever seen you with. His eyebrows furrow in the slightest as he looks at how the couch is completely covered with the gift bags from exorbitant stores; the bags themselves cost a lot on their own.
“What happened baby?” You ask as you see him eyeing the couch. He turns to you and lets a smile spread on his face as he gives a peck to your forehead.
“Nothin’ baby,” he says softly. “Did you have fun at your little shopping spree?” Little? Hell nah.
“Yes it was absolutely wonderful,” you smile.
“Good good,” he mutters, smiling a little.
“Oh I’ve got brunch date at the country club with my girls today,” you say, pulling away from him, his arms now falling back to his sides. “Are you done with your work?”
“No,” he sighs. “I have to head to the office in a bit,”
“Oh,” you sigh, a pout on your face. “Such a shame… ’cause I was wondering you could come too,”
He smiles softly, gently moving to caress your cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay baby, you have fun with your girlfriends yeah? You and me can go some other time,”
You just nod at his reply and tell him how you absolutely can’t go to the country club in the same outfit you wore in the mall, and you need to have a wardrobe change. He watches you make your way to the couch and pick two out of the numerous handbags and make your way up the stairs. As you walk, he can see his credit card peeking out of your back pocket. He opens his mouth to ask for it, but then shuts it back realizing you’ll need it at your brunch with the girls.
He just lets out a small sigh before busying himself with more of his work for the business.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
Rafe rubs his eyes as he leans his head back against the cushioned back of his chair, letting out a groan of complete exhaustion. His eyes flick to the digital clock sitting on his table, the numbers 12.53 am flashing back at him. He blinks his eyes multiple times before focusing back to his laptop screen, left with just the end of the work.
As he gets himself back into the working mindset, a little notification pops at the right bottom corner of his screen. Narrowing his eyes, he reads the notification.
As his eyes run over the words, they widen more and more with each passing second.
Your credit card has been declined. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to process your payment.
Right before his eyes, the same notification appears two times more, flashing momentarily at the corner before it disappears itself.
It disappears itself from the screen, but not from his mind. The little notification with its white background and dark blue text remains ingrained in his brain, and it’s as if that’s the only image he’s only ever known.
He quickly gets his phone and opens up the texts between you and him, the last one being him asking you if you’ve reached the country club safely and you replying back with a simple ‘yes’. He hasn’t had any time to go back home as he’s been stuck in his office since the afternoon.
All you said was you were going to have brunch with your girls, so that’s when the credit card should’ve been used. But why is he getting notifications about his card being declined at 1 in the morning?
The notifications are quiet shady, because they don’t reveal where the transaction is being made and is failing, it just tells him the credit card is declined.
He logs into the credit card company’s portal on his laptop, and looks around to find what balance is left in his card. And there he sees it.
The balance is negative.
And not any small number, a big one at that.
-$1000 is written on his screen in a bright, red font, that number being the only thing that can attract his attention throughout the entire mundane black webpage.
Rafe stares at the screen in disbelief – clearly you’re out there somewhere with his card and you’ve overpaid, and now transactions aren’t taking place.
Despite having a little too much money in his card, he never expected for you to ever overpay. He knew it was a huge privilege for you to have so much of something you never before had in your life, but he never expected you to be reckless…
He shakes his head, getting the thought out of his head. No, it’s just some kind of mistake, he thinks, and as if right on cue, his phone rings. He sees that it’s in fact you calling him. He quickly swipes his thumb across the screen, accepting the call.
“Rafeeee,” you whine on the other side, and Rafe realizes you’re drunk out of your mind.
“Baby, where are you?” He asks, his brows furrowed as he anticipates your reply.
“Your card isn’t working anymore,” you slur. “Come on, I just needed some stuff!”
“Where are you?” He asks again, more sternly this time.
“I’m out… are you not listening to me? Your goddamned card isn’t working!”
“Yeah ’cause you used the last of the money in it!” He snaps. “I’m asking you again: where are you?”
“Fuck you!” He hears you slur out loud, and the next second, all he hears is the monotonous beeping, meaning you’ve cut the call.
Rafe sighs, slamming his phone on his table as he holds his hair in his hands, his fingers scrunching around his hair strands as he pulls onto them, hard enough to cause blinding pain in his scalp, feeling as if he’ll just rip his hair out. He slams his laptop shut and gets up from his office chair, deciding to retreat to home for now.
You aren’t telling him where you are, and he most certainly isn’t going to go around looking for you.
The best he can do right now is sleep, and worry about the negative balance in his card the next morning.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
Rafe’s eyes snap open when he feels something cool being pressed into his forehead. It takes him a second but he makes out your outline in the dark room, blinking a few times to adjust to the bare amount of light in the room.
“Rafe…” your cold voice cuts through the darkness of the room.
It’s dead silent, and Rafe’s ears can only process his own deep breathing. Not yours – it feels like you aren’t breathing, you’re just standing silently.
A breeze blows outside, causing the flimsy curtains hanging in front of his window to fly to the side for the moment, letting the white moonlight to leak in through the room.
And he sees it.
He catches the cold look in your eyes, as if they’re dead, not a single emotion swirling in the depths of them. His breath gets caught in his throat, and he slowly turns his head up to find the cause of the cold feeling on his forehead.
A sharp click is heard, and the pressure against his forehead is increased, causing him to let out a shaky breath.
“Now you know I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger,” your voice is cool, emotionless, and monotone. You push the muzzle of the gun more against his forehead. “Tell me where the money is, and I’ll let you go unharmed.”
“What money?” Rafe croaks out, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
A moment passes.
Another moment passes.
All Rafe hears is the rhythmic, yet fast thumping of his heart deep against his eardrums.
“I know the credit card wasn’t the only money you have,” you say. Your voice is so calm, it terrifies the smallest, thinnest nerve in his body. “I know you’ve got money – cash somewhere in here. I used to keep my eye on it. You moved it, didn’t you? It’s not in its usual location.”
Rafe’s eyes widen as he turns his head to his left just slightly and sees the doors of his wardrobe opened, drawers pulled out they’re threatening to fall out, and all his clothes are messed up, unorganized as if someone went through them frantically to find something.
He slowly turns his head back to you, realizing you always knew about the cash he keeps hidden behind his clothes in the wardrobe for all sorts of emergencies.
“I don’t have it,” he mumbles, his eyes widening, and you can clearly see the fear swirling around in his baby blues.
“Liar,” you snap, pushing the muzzle of the gun even harder into his forehead, which causes him to let out a wince. “Now’s not the time to fuck around a’ight? Tell me where it is, and I’ll let you go-”
“No,” he says silently, cutting you off. He’s trying his best to not be afraid of you, to not let it show. But, his shallow, erratic breaths leaving his rubied lips show something entirely different.
Right in the next second, you take the gun away from his forehead and direct it to your right, pulling the trigger with ease as a loud bang echoes throughout Tannyhill. Rafe flinches at the sudden sound which causes ringing in his ear, his eyes shut closed as a reflex. The sound of glass cracking and bursting echoes as an aftermath. He slowly opens his eyes and looks to his left, and sees the lamp on the bedside table absolutely shattered to pieces.
You now place the gun directly on his throat, digging it into his skin harshly. You push his face up with the gun, forcing him to make eye contact with you, which causes his hair to fall in his eyes. Through the hair in his eyes, he catches the glimpse of the crazed, wide eyed look you have.
It gets dead silent, and Rafe can still hear the bang of the gun and the breaking of the glass in the back of his head. You slowly pull the trigger, but not completely, and Rafe’s breath hitches in his throat as he hears the silent creak of the trigger being pulled.
“One last time…” you whisper, your voice having an eerie touch to it. “Where’s the fucking money?”
You notice the glassy layer of tears forming in his eyes, and you groan, throwing your head back.
“Stop being such a crybaby and man up!” You yell. “Just tell me where the goddamned money is!”
Rafe’s lips part slightly, and he raises a shaky hand, pointing to something behind you. You turn around to see he’s pointing to a safe kept safely away in a corner.
You let out an exhale as you turn your attention back to Rafe, the gun still digging into his skin. “What’s the pass?”
“4-” he starts to speak but his words get caught in his throat. “4, 3, 1, 7, 9, 5,” he mumbles out, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels the gun digging in his skin starting to form a bruise.
You look at him for a moment, and then slowly take the gun off his neck. He lets out a shaky breath and moves his fingers to the skin, and as predicted, he can feel an indent in his skin.
“Good boy,” you mutter as you walk to the safe and put in the combination. As you put it in, the safe opens and voila, there are stacks and stacks of dollar bills kept safely inside. You take them out and put it in the bag you had with you, making your way to the door.
“Rafe?” You say as you turn to look at him, and he notices your ‘sweet’ tone coming back in. “I hope you remember it’s our 1 year anniversary tomorrow, yeah? I’ve been eyeing this diamond necklace for ages. We’ll go to the jewelry store alright? And we’ll throw a party, at My Druthers of course. I need a new dress for that so we’ll shop for that too. I’ll see you tomorrow morning baby,” you smile as you open the door and leave, not giving Rafe even a moment to speak before the door is slammed shut with full force.
Rafe sits still for a moment, tears running down his cheeks silently as the past moments settle in him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for what just happened.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
“Yeah, I have the beach cleanup to attend tomorrow, and the soup kitchen volunteering is throughout the week, along with atleast three hours of working at The Wreck everyday, and the biweekly cleaning of the boats for Mr. Smith,” he hears you go on and on about your jobs to your friend JJ. “And then maybe we’ll have enough to pool it in and get ourselves some of that fancy champagne for your birthday J,”
He hears you sigh, taking a sip of your drink as you rest your back against the wall. “You know cheap beer will do it too right? We don’t have to go all out for the alcohol,” JJ tells you.
“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes at him. “It’s your 18th birthday! We are getting nice, expensive champagne for it, whether you like or not. Listen, I will have enough to buy it okay? There’s no way we aren’t having that on your birthday. We’ll be like Kooks for that day, with our champagne in those long ass glasses,” you giggle and JJ laughs with you too, nodding his head.
“That’s tempting you know? The part of wanting to feel like the Kooks,” he says.
“It sure is, and you deserve it alright? So I’ll make it happen for you,” you smile at him. You take the last sip of your drink and peer into the now empty cup. “I’ll be back alright?” You say, walking away from JJ.
Rafe watches you make your way to the bar, and decides to give you a follow. As you sit at a barstool, he sits at the one next to you, catching your eye.
“Well well well, if it isn’t the kook prince,” you smile smugly at him. He can’t help but smile back at you.
“In his full glory,” he says, his smile showing off his teeth.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, kook prince?” You ask. Rafe sees a certain glint in your eye; one that he is almost certain is of the same interest he is looking at you with.
“Let me buy you your drink, that’s all,” he says. He sees your eyebrows furrow, but they relax the next second and you nod.
“Okay…” you say, “but what’s the catch?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “No catch, saw your pretty face, and I just wanted to do something nice for you,”
He sees you say nothing, just a smile on your face as you receive your ordered drink and he tells the bartender to put it on his tab. You get up from the barstool with your drink firm in your hand.
“Will I see you around, kook prince?” You ask.
Rafe’s lips are tugged in a soft smile at your words.
“You sure will,”
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
That’s all he ever wanted.
He liked you, heck – he fell in love with you, and all he ever wanted was to relieve the pain of financial troubles off your shoulders. He always thought he had a lot of money – too much if he insists, and if it means it’ll help someone and provide them some financial stability, especially when that someone is the person he’s so deeply attracted to, he doesn’t mind, at all.
But what he didn’t catch is that you never loved him back the way he did. He loved to shower you with gifts and whatever your heart desired because he wanted to be there for you.
But did he ever expect you to get so up in your head that you’ll forget all about him and just see him as someone who can give you as much money as you’ll ever need?
Absolutely not.
The wind howls outside the open window, the safe is opened and every single note in it is taken away by you, his wardrobe is opened and clothes are spilling out from it, and he’s sitting, staring at the wall, his fingertips gently grazing over the indent on his neck as tears spill down his eyes.
He’s stuck, and you’ve made it really clear that he can’t back out of this.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
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eydi-andrius · 10 months
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Agape
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Agape is the kind of love that is felt by a person willing to do anything for another
cw/tw: dark!reader, lowborn (undisclosed) noble reader, delusions, heartbreak, character death, graphic description of death, deception, manipulation, implied sexual content, story is soooooo long and tags are not exhausted. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!!
pairings: aemond targaryen x reader
a/n: i was thinking about writing for a dark reader for a while now but i have trashed this story for like so many times. but i felt so bad throwing it away since it was technically done. SO I hope you all like this one hehe
As always, thank you for your support. I appreciate any comments and reblogs. It motivates me and makes my day hehe
summary: the heartbreak of someone lead to the death of another
~~~~~~~~
“Gods! Would you stop fiddling?” Aegon groaned in frustration as he massaged his temple. The way his brows knit together confirmed that he must have drunk too much again. His face was much paler than it usually was and his silver hair was messy and all over his face.
Concerned, you gave the water you had with you and your nose scrunched in disgust when you caught a whip of his smell. He smells like alcohol and sweat. It is now noon, but he seems like he has woken up.
“Don’t give me that look. I would never come to this god forsaken place if you did not invite me.”
You swallowed your contempt and did your best not to roll your eyes in front of the eldest prince. He calls the library the god forsaken place because Aemond stays here to read. Although today, he was practicing the sword with Ser Criston Cole. You truly do not understand how he treats his younger brother like a twat when all his life, Aemond had to do his all to cover up for Aegon’s shortcomings.
“I never thought you would care.” 
And you are only here because you were afraid of the Queen finding out that you were drunk again and left Helaena alone during dinner.You kept your mouth shut and made sure not to follow with the words you have for him. You indeed asked him to come here and insulting someone you wished to help will only give you a hard time.
Instead, you cleared your throat and you heard him tutting in annoyance as his lilac eyes stared at you.
This bastard truly acts as if you owe him something. You still do not understand how Aemond became so perfect in what he does and his oldest brother is this useless.
You breathed deeply and smiled, the sweetest as you could, before you opened your mouth to speak.
“Tell me who was chosen to be Aemond’s bride.” You held his eyes with determination. It took a while as you two stared back at each other until he laughed with mirth. His voice boomed at the corners of the room and he was gasping for air as he did his best to compose himself. 
“Ha!.....You called me….in here….in secret…..to ask me about something like this?” He was holding his stomach as he continued laughing. Tears were even coming out of his eyes in amusement. 
“I……did.” You bit your lip, unsure. Maybe you should have relied on bribing the servants. You cannot help but feel stupid. The danger of Aemond knowing you were asking about his marriage was more of a threat to you than being with Aegon.
“Silly girl.” He laughed a bit more before he collapsed on the chair he was sitting at. He was laying there comfortably, staring at the ceiling.
“You put yourself in danger by meeting with me in secret instead of asking my brother about his betrothal. Do you know what the people would call you if they found out you were alone with an adulterous prince? A whore.” He said as a matter of truth, still not looking at you.
You know the danger you put yourself into. It was not as if you did not try to ask Aemond. You did. Many times. Many tries. Somehow, somewhat, he evaded your questions. So you bribed his servants but none of them knew who it was. But they promised they would tell you as soon as they heard news of her name. You trusted them, not because of the payment you have given them, but because you grew up in the castle with these people. You can trust them, right?
Until you caught word of the purpose of his last flight with Vhagar. Words claimed that he went to meet his chosen betrothed that day. No news was delivered to you from the servants. When you tried to confront them, they would give you excuses and reasons. No one can even look you in the eyes. You felt betrayed and alone. All of them had turned their backs on you.
“I know the danger I put myself into. But no matter how many times I ask, no one can tell me the truth. All I wanted to know was who she was.” You gasped in surprise when your voice cracked, laced with pain. You swallowed and did your best not to look at Aegon whose head was now risen and eyes directed at you.
Silence was loud between the two of you. He was just staring. Out of habit, you fiddled with your fingers. An act you do when you are nervous. An act hated by your family. It was more than annoying, it often left your fingers wounded. A noble lady destroying her soft hands was something not wanted. But was tolerated by Aemond. No, most of the time, he would hold your hand to stop you from picking the skin out of your fingers. And you would feel the heat crawling on your face. The blood rushing to your cheeks. His calloused hands were warm and comforting. 
You were woken up by your reverie when Aegon’s chair scraped the floor and he stood up. You sat still and was waiting for him to leave when he stopped beside you. You felt his large hand pat your hair. As if comforting you. You looked up and met his eyes.
In anger, you slapped his hand away from your hair and he only gave a deep sigh. He continued walking past you and was half-way opening the huge mahogany doors, when he stopped midway. Licking his lips, he spoke.
He looked at you with pity. You did not like that. Being given a look of pity from the most pitiful person in this castle is much more insulting than being a low rank noble. It disgust you because you know you were far better than Aegon. How could he?
“It was a Baratheon girl.” Then slammed the door shut. His footfalls echoes outside and slowly fades away. The sound of the door closing was ringing in your ears while his words spiraled inside your head.
A Baratheon girl……..How could you even be on par with her?
Warm tears run down your cheeks and you close your eyes to calm yourself. You had seen this coming but you still dreamt of the day he would ask for your hand. Foolish imaginations of a life with Aemond and happily being together, full with his child. You thought that your love for him would be enough for him to forget his obligation as a prince and he will choose to marry you. 
You were a fool for thinking he would choose you and turn his back on his duties as a prince.  
You should have known better. 
After many times he had rejected you. 
Especially after that night.
The rain poured heavily on your face, almost painful, and it soaked your light green dress.Yet, you still chose to stand on the place where you asked; begged Aemond to meet you. One last time. You told yourself. 
You sent him a letter which contains an apology and a chance to talk to him again. The hands holding your dress grasped the satin, nails digging on your skin, as you tried your best not to cry.
You wore this beautiful dress because you noticed how his eyes linger more whenever you have this dress on. But now, it was soaking wet and the feather light fabric hugged your body heavily. It feels disgusting.
The loud crackle of thunder spook you from where you were standing and that was what made the dam break. You silently cried and stood in the same spot, you have been standing about for hours.
You don’t even know if your body was shaking from the cold or from the agony of losing your closest confidant. Of losing Aemond by admitting to him that you have been in love with since forever. It was a foolish move to stop him from seeking a highborn noble lady’s hand in marriage. 
It was cold that day, you were in panic and not thinking straight, when you ran up to where he was, admitted your feelings, and kissed him with no consent.
It was vivid how his face contorted from shock into rage. You have never seen him so furious. His eyes darkened when he pushed you away and your heart broke in a million pieces when he roughly scrubbed the back of his hand on his lips. An act of trying to erase what you did. He was your first and you were sure, you were his first kiss too.
His voice boomed when he raised his head and ordered you to leave. Scared, you did not think twice, running away from him. Since then, you have never seen him again. The areas he used to walk by were changed. And you know it was to lessen his encounter with you.
Everyday, you felt like a knife was stabbed within you and someone was slowly turning it around to deepen the cut. Everyone who knew and accepted that you were inseparable with Aemond keeps asking what happened. They never caught a glimpse of him around you for days and that was new to them. There were times that even though Aemond was busy, he would find a way just to have tea with you in the afternoon. They were curious about what changed. But you knew better. 
In the Red Keep, only vultures live. They wanted to know what you did to the point of losing the prince’s favor. 
They act as if you do not hear the whispers and speculations. Still you kept your mouth shut or sometimes fed them with lies to stop the sound surrounding you.
You gritted your teeth as you force yourself to smile as you lie on their faces. They nod as if understanding but once they thought you would not hear them, they will start to snicker followed by an insulting remark. The grins on their lips were wide and evil.
How you pray everyday that these ladies be blessed with no fruit and be thrown away for being useless by the very people they thought cared about them.
Your evil thoughts vanished when a heavy cloth was draped over your head. You looked up with surprise and came face to face with the second prince. His hair is a mess and he was wearing his dragon gear. Later, you would realize that he draped his robe over your head. His black gloves gripping the side of his robe to make sure it will not fall. 
“Don’t you dare speak!” He yelled and you flinched from the volume of his voice. You closed your gaping mouth and swallowed. It tasted like salt and you know the rain water was mixed with your tears. 
He then proceeded on getting a parchment from his pocket and the familiar paper was raised on his hand. 
“I was not in King's Landing the whole day. What do you think would happen to you if I did not go home and see this letter!?” He screamed at the top of his lungs and all you could do was stare at him. You don’t even know if it was tears running down your face as you look at him. You haven’t seen him for a long time and you miss him. 
No servants wanted to share his whereabouts so you assumed he would be at the castle. You were lucky that he went back home. 
Delighted to see him, you did not hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck. You were elated that he went right away once he had gotten your letter. You were still important to him and that made your heart sing with joy.
You pulled him out of the hug and held his hands, with a wide grin you shared with him your plans. He must have been worried sick and dying too without seeing you for a while. You were sure he would agree to what you have for him today. 
“I’ve heard in passing that you were looking for a bride. I could be your lady wife and you could be my lord husband. I will always be loyal to you. And I am also the first to taste your lips and you with mine so I think this would be a marvelous idea!” 
A grin was plastered on your lips as you talked to him. But he only stared at you. Then, a dark look passed through his face but you were too happy to see it. 
You grimaced when you felt his hold on your hands tightened. His grip was bruising and intent to hurt. 
“A-Aemond… you’re hurting me.” You tried to pull away your hand but instead, he pulled you forward. You stumbled, inches closer to him when he opened his mouth and told you something. Even with the rain and the chaos, you heard him clear as a sunny day. 
“I cannot marry you. You are a lowborn noble. My family needed power which you will not be able to provide. Let the bond which we first had be the same. You are still my friend. My loyal confidant. Do not ruin it.” After staring for a while, he left you dumbfounded, standing in the rain. 
His straightforward, emotion voided words, echoed throughout your head. 
He has no use of you. 
Your legs weakened and you fell on the ground. Staring at the pitter patter of the rain, his words stabbed you deeply and you fainted from the shock.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
You refused to go out of your chambers as his betrothal was officially announced. The people cheered. Even the servants were excited about the upcoming wedding of the second prince. But you know that everyone was just looking forward to the feast and freedom they would experience during their wedding day. 
Meanwhile, the noble ladies were enthusiastic to meet nobles across the land who would visit to see this wedding. The days after the announcement was a torture for your heart. Although, you did your best to appear unaffected and happy for him.
Of course, there were rumors and insults thrown your way after the news, however, you did not let them in the mask you created. To save yourself and the only connection he had offered to you. 
At the moment, you choose to be in your room to lessen having conversation with anyone. After the confrontation, you have been sick, fever barely going down for days. During those days, you never saw Aemond visit you. He probably chooses not to so he will not be sick, or that’s what you told yourself.
A sound of knocking caught your attention. You were confused because your servant went out and will be back for a while. If it was a visitor, you were in no mood to pretend and smile.
“I am not feeling well. I will go out some other time.” You shouted at whoever was at your door. Sometimes, some noble ladies or even servants knock at your door to check on you and invite you to go out.  However, you refused them for two days now. The shock about the news was still fresh in your mind and you cannot process the pain you were suffering. They will never understand.
“My dear. ‘Tis I Alicient. May I come in?” With a jolt, you stood up and gasped, looking at the door. You did your best to fix your messy hair and straightened your days old chemise. When nothing happened, you decided to cover yourself with a shawl.
“I am going in.” She announced before she pushed the door open and you curtsied immediately. The motion made your head throb but the shock about the Queen’s visit was far greater than what you were feeling.
“Oh dear! Why are you up? You shouldn’t have. You are sick! Look at your pale face. You look so much thinner than when I last saw you.” She worriedly went over to you and held your hand, guiding you towards the nearest seat. You heard the door closed and you assumed that it must be Criston who decided to wait outside due to the status of your undress. You are an unwed lady and no man should see you looking like this. 
The Queen fussed over you. You don’t even know how long until you end up sitting in front of your vanity while she brushes your hair then braids it. It was quiet for a while until she finally opened her mouth to speak.
“I know that you might not be feeling well but I needed to talk to you about an important responsibility I wish for you to accept.” You gulped when she started talking about why she was here. Alicient is a sweet woman but you have been here far too long to pretend a Queen will visit your chamber just to check how you have been. Even her own daughter Helaena doesn’t like her visits.
“The girl will be in need of a lady in waiting. And I knew Aemond had trusted you more than he trusted anyone in the palace. This position will also help your status in Red Keep and in this way, Aemond and his lady wife would be surrounded by their loyal subjects.” She finished as she tied your hair and she looked back at you in the mirror. She must have taken your surprise as a positive reaction and so she smiled.
“Fortnight, the wedding of Aemond will be held.” The eyes that had been staring at your fiddling hands, looked at her from the mirror. She is still focused on braiding your hair. Your mouth opens and closes from shock. That was way too fast. His wedding was announced days ago, yes, but he is no king that needed to be wed as soon as possible.
“We need people around us to whom we can trust. I know I can trust you. Please accept the offer for you and Aemond’s future, dear.” It was impossible that she did not hear about the rumors floating around about you and Aemond. So the fact that she was here to ask you, confirmed that she had spoken to Aemond and he denied any form of feelings for you aside from being his closest friend. With a forced smile, you accepted her offer and she gladly embraced you.
It’s not as if you have a choice either. 
Being a lady in waiting for the second prince’s wife would boost your status and will also help your family. Other ladies deserve this position more than you but the Queen personally asking you to take the position, will solidify your status more than those other ladies.
She gave you one last sweet smile before she tiptoed and kissed your forehead. The action surprised you a bit but Alicient had treated you like her daughter too throughout your childhood. She had wished for you to get well soon and eat a lot so you would recover fast before she left.
Finally, alone to mourn another happy announcement.
~~~~~~~~
The ceremony was a blur. 
The crowd cheered and they wished the newly wife and husband a happy marriage as you stood behind them as they waved to the crowd. 
The feast tasted nothing and you did your task as they have taught you. Your body automatically helped out the bride to her needs throughout the day. 
The whole day, Aegon looks miserable as he was not allowed to drink and be wasted on his brother’s wedding. Helaena helped throw the flowers and she even sang for her brother. Alicient was smiling and she looked at his son with love in her eyes. Meanwhile, you thought you were imagining it but now looking at his silver hair as he drank his wine, you realized that Aemond never looked at you, not even once in your direction. He always feels your eyes if you are looking at him and he has never been subtle calling you out before.
Standing behind them, you stare at his back the whole time but he was unnerved. The only time you pulled your eyes out of him was when the Baratheon girl called your name softly and chuckled lightly when she told you she needed help to change. She smells of wine and you know she was drunk. She was never kind when you first met her. There was an air of pride and status when you introduced yourself to her. She even told you that you should be thankful for the Queen for giving you such an important task. With a bow, you agreed and let her harsh words out of your ear.
She stumbled all the way to her chamber and you did your best to help her not fall. On the way to her room, the quiet of the hallways had made you realize something important. The two will consummate their wedding tonight and as a lady in waiting, you have to stand outside and wait for them to finish.
You will help her prepare. You will hear them. And you will see her after they do it.
What did you do to suffer so much for loving someone more than you love yourself?
“I was told you were close to my husband.” She said with a slur. 
How shameful. 
She acted so mighty when you first saw her but you know well that the pressure of the responsibility had made a small crack to her resolve. Ladies such as her will never know the cruelty of politics in King’s Landing until they are arranged to marry and see it for themselves. 
Now, she is trying her best to assess your loyalty to her and is checking if you are a problem, a secret lover, of the said husband.
“I am merely a lowborn noble who grew up with the prince, my lady. My loyalty lies to those who stood beside him. I am entrusted for your care because he cares for you and your well-being.” You replied, as you helped her remove the pins on her hair. Her jet dark black hair spilled out. It was beautiful and well taken off. 
She nodded and tapped your shoulder. You knew this would not be the last but she was drunk and out of her wits to continue for the night. She stood up and you understood that she needed help with her dress. You assisted her shimmy out of her corset and clothes. And you gave her satin chemise, that she brought for this special day. Once you did a last do over of her look, you bowed and she decided to sit on the bed.
“The one-eyed prince, Prince Aemond is here.” Your ears perked from the sound of his namee and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from looking at his figure as he walked inside the room. With a deep curtsy, you went to his wife’s side and did not dare look at Aemond even though you could feel his eyes on you for a second.
Once he went towards his lady wife. You slowly went to the door, servants followed you out and they quietly closed the door behind you. 
Your eyes widened when it was Ser Criston you saw outside. He nodded in recognition and you did the same. The night will be long for you and your heart.
The sound of whispers, the creak of the bed, the groans and moans was like a torture for you. You know that being a lady in waiting means you have to make sure that they do it to secure an heir but maybe the Queen chose you to be in here to make sure that you will not be a problem. To torture you into giving up having any dreams of being with Aemond. How cruel if that was proven true.
Even with a lot of people outside their door, it was quiet. Except for the flicker of the flames from the torches and occasional hoots of owls. All the while you begged your mind to tune out the louds sounds they were making inside and let your mind wander and think of a fond memory.
You remembered those days where Aemond will look at you so softly and your heart will flutter when he smiles. His hands were soft and warm. He was so beautiful. However, the feeling inside your chest scared you. Your grandfather died from having a weak heart. What if you have it too?
You did not hesitate during that time to visit a maester and let him check your heart. He took your fear seriously when he saw your small face, paled with worry. However, you did not understand when he checked your body and you told him what happened. Not mentioning Aemond’s name. Somehow, it feels embarrassing but you do not know why. 
He smiled oh so kindly and told you that you were a healthy young lady. He also refused to explain why it happened. Instead, he reassured you that your heart is normal and you would understand what it was once you get older.
And you did. 
One day, when the young noble ladies sat down for an afternoon tea. They talked about love that day. They shared the feeling of falling for someone and you can’t help but blushed when you realize what your feelings were. Since then, no matter how much you try not to fall deeper for him, everything he does pulls you into him further. Everyday your heart yearns for his heart to accept your love. 
Thoughts left your mind, when suddenly, the Prince’s servants enter the room. It did not take them long to help Aemond out and you curtsied once he was out. Instead of leaving right away though, he stopped in front of you and you can’t help but straighten your back and look at him. 
“Make sure she will be comfortable. Help her out.” That was his last words before he walked away and slowly went back to his room.
After everyone made sure the Prince had left, followed by Ser Criston, you were the first one to enter the room and you saw the lady sitting on the side, a blanket covering her lithe body, her back turned to the door. She was shaking.
They said that the first always hurts.
Your eyes scan the bed. The sight froze you for a moment but you composed yourself and nodded to another servant to confirm that the wedding was consummated. The dark stain on the white sheet did not lie. The lady’s original servant smiled before leaving. And you knew it was supposed to be a happy moment, but deep inside, your whole heart crumbled to pieces. This night seems to last forever.
Trying not to think about it, you softly called his Lady Wife and told her you readied a bath for her, with oils that will relieve the pain of her first. 
The lady nodded and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying. 
~~~~~~~ 
Your death is upon you.
You remembered it was raining that night. 
You remembered feeling hot with pure rage and anger about her lying to Aemond. 
Somehow you caught rumors about the child she was carrying was truly a bastard. It turns out the reason why the Baratheon’s was rushing the wedding was because her daughter was already pregnant. 
You would never care for such things because they were just rumors. Until a month after the wedding. She announced she was carrying an heir. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be pregnant that fast after the times Aemond had visited her chambers. But then you were the lucky one to witness her betrayal. You were carrying out some tasks that morning, when you saw your lady’s knight kissing her hand. The oddest thing was the way they looked at each other. It was full of longing. Then with full passion, Aemond’s wife grabbed the knight’s face and kissed him. You left a silent gasp and did your best to move far away from them, scared about what you had witnessed.
You have told yourself that maybe you saw it wrong but there’s a voice inside you, screaming in anger to save Aemond from their lies. In your free time, in secret, you looked for information about their relationship and you found out that they were indeed lovers. You have sold all your riches you hid for yourself for this important information. And this will not end well.
It was maybe the pure rage that made you do it. You do not know. But earlier all you could see were red from madness…….. until it faded and the only thing in your field of vision was her limp body full of stabbed wounds lying below you. Your hands, red from her blood, and red drips down at the tip of the knife you used to stab her.
Your legs were in between her, completely trapping the lady, and your dress was drenched with a warm, deep red color. You looked at your reflection at the bath water she was supposed to use, that you prepared for her. Your hair was all over the face and your face had scratches from her nails when she fought back.. You were breathing heavily and you watched as your face contorted from rage, to shock, into absolute terror. What have you’ve done!?
In denial, you shook your head, looked around, checking if anyone saw what you did. Once you confirmed no one was around, you quickly came near the bath water and cleaned the blood off your hands, your hair and face.The stench of iron was strong and you can’t help but vomit in disgust.
In panic you stood up, knife clattered on the floor. With shaking hands, you check her nose for any signs of breathing but only her glassy eyes stared back at you. You let out a silent scream.
You were occupied thinking and mumbling about what you should do, what you must do while scrubbing your body raw. That you did not hear the creak of the opening door and footsteps of someone entering the room. Aemond’s voice calling your name froze your body and slowly, you looked at him. His eyes were wide with fear and his mouth agape from shock. You know he doesn’t need an explanation about what happened and it was obvious what you did.
You were mumbling incoherently when you felt someone touched your arms and his calloused hand, grabbed your chin and forced you to look at his lilac eyes. His face was eerily void with emotions when he asked you a question. 
Before he could speak, you were on your knees, hugging his legs, begging for forgiveness. You rambled about what you found. Told him about what you had witnessed. That the child wasn’t his and the marriage was all a plot planted by the Baratheon’s to take advantage of the throne. You even shared what you did to acquire the truth, what you have to sacrifice. But you were so mad that you confronted her yourself when you found out the truth, and it all led to this. You were a sobbing mess and you do not know if he understood your words but you still told him everything….everything you know without missing a beat.
“How sure were you that the child wasn’t mine?”
“The servants from the storm end confessed to me.” You were choking from your own tears as you mouthed where you got the confirmation. He stared at you for a while then you heard him sigh. He then dropped you to the floor and you crawled backwards when he went back out of the door. The worst was already running inside your head. You will die the cruelest way and you admit that you were not ready for it. All you did was protect Aemond. The love of your life, right?
Outside, you heard a grunt, then the door swung open with a bang. You saw him carry the Baratheon girl’s loyal servant inside. He then dropped them off the floor, in front of you. And you gulped. Confused as to what was going on.
“Change your clothes into hers. Then make sure she will wear your clothes.” You frowned about his order but then he looked at you, eyes all serious, and so you nodded and did what he told you to do. He then spoke again and you were surprised by what you were hearing coming from his mouth.
“No one will know about today and that servant will be you now.” Even not fully understanding his intention, you removed your clothes and made sure to clean off the blood on your body before you changed into the servant's uniform. While you were changing, Aemond was busy dragging bodies of the servants and knights you poisoned before killing his wife inside the room. 
“Here and go to the room near the library. Everyone was outside, celebrating for Aegon and to see the celebration, and so I am sure no one will see you. Go behind the wall, we used to hide and you’ll see a secret passageway to go outside. It will take you near the sea. Pretend to be drenched, and buy a new set of clothes. Ride a public carriage boarding to riverlands. Go to my bought home and they will let you in if you show them my seal. Live there for a while and hide. From now on, you are one of the people who will die in this fire. You are now dead. Do not come back.” He instructed, carefully and clearly.
“What fire?” Confused you asked. Until you witnessed how he shoved all the candles at the flammable clothes and fabrics inside the room. You were frozen at your place as you watched the flames eat everything, everyone inside the room. You heard your name but you stood there, stone cold. You cannot take your eyes away from it until he tugged you out of the room. Running and dragging you to the chamber near the library.
He held your hand as you two made way to the secret passageway. It was quiet and only the sound of your feet walking, echoing, on the walls. He then stopped at a corner, with two different turns.
“How about you? I do not understand why you let me go.” You asked worriedly, still out of it. 
“Be safe and be careful. This will be the place we must depart.” He said.
“I will be fine. This path will lead near the room I was last seen by knights. No one would suspect I was with you. Go before the sun rises. Take care and make sure to live through this night. Do not come back to King's Landing.” He squeezed your arm to reassure you one last time. He then gave you his robe he uses as a disguise, and you nodded at him as you ran towards the exit. 
Once outside, you followed his instructions. You pretended to trip on the water and the people around helped you out.You laughed at the vendors and made humor of your status, and they willingly helped you change your clothes. You made sure to buy the most common dress you could buy. After you changed, you made sure that your previous clothes would be underwater, as you wrapped it tightly around a heavy rock, before you dropped it. Watching it be engulfed at the deepest of seas. Then you rode a carriage heading to the riverlands. 
You watched from afar as the billow of smoke was seen at the Red Keep. The people at the market slowly moved towards the castle while your carriage continued moving forward. The truth will turn to ashes in no time. Only the two of you would know what truly happened.
~~~~~~~
In the next town, you caught the whispers about the death of the prince's wife and all of her servants and knights. The news said that the king’s landing was in chaos and the king of storm’s end was furious. They said nothing remained out of those people but ashes and black chalk.
“How cruel. Who could have done something like this? To a pregnant woman too!?” The old folks voiced their fear as they served you with your food. They looked like they were neighbors and it was too early for anyone to arrive at this place so they still have the time for nonsense chitchat.
“Ha! Whoever that was he will surely be killed. I am sure of it.” They continued gossiping and you swallowed the food as fast as you could. You did not even taste it but told the owner it tasted wonderful and gave her a bit of silver added from your bill. She thanked you and wished you well on your journey. 
The walk outside was peaceful, no one was out this early and you enjoyed the sound of the wind. You decided to drop to the town before the Riverlands and throw out the plans Aemond had made for you. 
You were not certain that the child wasn’t his. 
You smiled at the innkeeper as she greeted you when you walked back in. You rented a room to stay at this place to do your other plans. Once inside your room, you sat in front of the fireplace and prayed for the gods for forgiveness for what you have done.
With a deep inhale, you threw his seal on the pot you put atop the scorching fire. You watched before your eyes how it melted and carefully poured it out into small pieces. Once done, you put it in the water to cool it.
The whole process did not take too long and you readied yourself to ride the horse you bought with your coins for another journey. The fire in your eyes cannot be extinguished as you yelled for the horse to run heading towards the north.
No one will know that you lied. 
But if it wasn’t his, then you did it because you love him so much.
If the child was a fruit from him, then the death of that child was the karma he deserved for breaking your heart.
 All your lies will die on that fire and you will start anew in the north where no one dares to live because of the unforgiving cold.
It is true that a person will do anything for love. Tragic maybe for others but you regret nothing.
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romana-after-dark · 6 months
Text
Guard Dog
Riader!Joel Miler x Dark!fem!reader
Masterlist : Taglist
Summary: Joel attempts to raid the wrong house, and having the Joel Miller on his knees before awakens something in you... and in him.
Content and Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Dub con on Joel (Is it non con? idk. Idk how im supossed to tag this but it's no where near the violence of tww someone help), references to non con from Joel to other women, gun sucking, fem domme, dark!reader but Joel is also dark soooooo, subby Joel, dead bodies, Nick reference (if you read TWW you know lol), multiple orgasms, overstim, dumbification?
AN 1: This essentially came of two thoughts, me thinking hmmmm how to write raider!Joel in a new way? 2. I want to avenge Little One. Joel did her so dirty and is still doing her so dirty in the dark timeline addition, lowkey wanted someone to get revenge for her. Plus, subby Joel is always a win for Fen and Maura lol
AN 2: Shout outs to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @toxicanonymity for talking me through this idea, esp Toxi for letting me use the gun blowjob bit lololol if you like that concept, I encourage everyone to check out toxi's raider joel Or maybe Jake's part in the chasing series
***********************
Whoever it was, they had chosen to raid the wrong fucking house.
Yes, you were a single woman. Yes you lived alone. But no, you were not helpless, far from it, actually. Whoever it was is lucky they had made it past the set of boobytraps thus far. Actually, it sounded like a few of them had been taken out as it was.
*
Joel watched in relief as the arrow went through Nick’s skull. Relief it wasn’t him. He never liked Nick that much anyway, real creepy guy. In fact, he didn’t like any of the men that this house had gotten either. It was exhausting, trying to lead a group of dumbasses and whatever the fuck was in here it wasn’t worth it, so Joel attempted to make his exit. Thing was, leaving was proving just as hard as entering was. Whoever lived here didn’t want anyone living to tell the tail. Stepping over the dead bodies of a few of his men, Joel had narrowly dodged more arrows, spikes, darts; the whole lot, until some secret fucking door opened up like a goddamn scooby-doo house and there you were, gun to his forhead.
“Joel fucking Miller, I’ll be damned.”
Joel narrowed his eyes. He didn’t recognize you, but you knew him. That wasn’t surprising, he’d gained a bit of a reputation from raiders, fireflies and regular people. “Who the hell are you?”
You tell him your name, first name at least, and make quick work of taking out the gun in his hand. “Armed with anything else, Miller?” He said he wasn’t, but you knew that was a lie. “Don’t believe that for a second.”
“Then why the hell did you ask?” His texan drawl was prominent, especially when he was worked up.
“More fun to mess with you.” Keeping the gun pressed up to his temple, you press your body against his in turn as you pat him down for more weapons. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome.
“JESUS!” Joel jumped as you grabbed at his ass. “Watch your fucking hands.”
You can’t help but giggle; he thinks he's in charge. “You could be hiding weapons anywhere-” He tenses as you slip your hand between his buttcheeks as much as his jeans allow. “-Can’t be too careful.”
Joel was a brutal man, you heard stories of his rage and carelessness for human life, including women. There’d been many such stories of him forcing himself on women, kidnapping and trafficking… maybe he needed a taste of his own medicine? You take your time on his top half, feeling up every muscle, every bit of pudge, every dip on his broad body. Then, onto the lower. Without hindrance, you grope at his crotch and are very impressed by the size of him; and amused by the way he’s already semi-hard. Men are so easy, it’s funny sometimes. 
“This make you excited, Miller? Or does it scare you to be at a woman’s mercy for once? Maybe a little bit of both?” 
Joel didn’t look at you, lips pursed in a hard line.
You continue, moving the gun to his pants as you kneel before him to check lower. “I bet this is more your speed isn’t it? Having a pretty woman on her knees?”
The scoff above you doesn’t go unnoticed. “Mighty full of ourselves, aren’t we?”
After taking a knife and a gun that were strapped to his ankle, you stand up, satisfied with your work and the ever-growing bulge in his pants. “I own a mirror, Miller. I know what I got going on.” Degrading won’t work on you. With a nudge, you press him towards your room. 
“Yuh gonna kill me?” There was no fear in his voice when he asked. This was a man prepared for death whenever it came.
“We’ll see. Gonna have a little fun with you first.”
*
Having Joel Miller on his knees for you was a goddamn treat. He looked so good like this, so submissive even if his bratty little face wanted to put on a show. 
“It’s natural, you know.” With a glance down, you let him know that you are referencing his half-hard cock. “The adrenaline.” You squat in front of him. “How many girl came when you forced yourself on them? How many felt their bodies betray them? Did you laugh at them for getting wet?”
“I didn’t-”
“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” Your gun was still out, knowing physically he could probably overpower you still. You weren’t weak by any means, but you also were aware he had far more upper body strength, muscles bulging through the seem of his shirt sleeves. The cool end of the gun prodded at his face as he tried to keep calm; the bob of his adam's apple and subtle rise of his chest was giving away his nerves. It was exhilarating, having a man that many feared, the cause of death of so many men, someone of damn-near legendary status and his knees for you… You couldn’t help the reaction the thrill had in pooling in your stomach. It was natural, wasn’t it? That’s what you told Joel. 
Using the gun, you move his face around a bit to really take in his features. Strong nose, curly salt and pepper hair, soft brown eyes and lips you just really wanted to make whimper.
“Your quite handsome, you know that?”
An ironic chuckle. “I have a mirror too, sweetheart.”
You can’t help smiling at him as you straighten back up. “Take off your shirt.”
He rolled his eyes but did as he was told.
“Obedient thing, aren’t you? Bet I could train you, bet that’s what you need, isn’t it?” You slip your hand in your pants, feeling up your own wet cunt as the thrill of power elevates things. “Tired of having to decide, having to lead…” Maybe the adrenaline was getting to you, but you suddenly wish you had a dick to make him suck. You don’t, so you settle for the next best thing. You tap his lips witht he barrel of the gun. “Open.”
Joel hesitates, a slight spark of fear in his pretty eyes as he keeps his lips tightly closed, and that just won't do. You slap his cheek with the gun, and as grunts in pain the seal of his lips pops open.
“Ah-mph” His cry of pain was quickly muffled by the gun being shoved in his mouth. 
“Suck on it, cowboy. Act like you fucking enjoy it.”
You don’t think he needs to act. Joel sucks on your gun like he would a dick and you furiously finger yourself to his rhythm. As he closes his eyes, you can hear a low groan emitting from his throat and his hands twitching at his side. 
“Touch yourself, go ahead.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, his right hand flying to the seam of his pants and palming at his full erection.
 “Good boy, good fucking boy” You praise. “Just an obedient little dog pretending to be a lone wolf. Is that it? You just want someone to tell you what to do, huh?” You release the gun from his mouth and can’t help but grin as his lips chase it.
“Y-yes.” Joel admits, face strained in tension as he kept touching himself. Must hurt, being constrained like that.
“Take it out. Eyes on me.” You guide his face to look up at you with the tip of your gun. “Look in my eyes as you do it.”
As he released himself, Joel did indeed look up at you; he looked up at you as if you made the stars in the sky. 
Once his cock was out, all 9 or so inches, you take off your sleep shorts and straddle over him but not yet putting it in. “I don’t think I need this gun anymore… but I think you like it.” When you sink down on him, gun pressed to his ribs as a firm reminder of who was in charge, you hold your breath in order to hear the simple whimpers and guttural groans that Joel tried so hard to hide.
“This is where you belong, isn’t it?” You goad him, eliciting a quiet ‘yes’ from his lips. “Under me, belong to me.”
You are speared on him, his dick spreading you open and stretching you unlike anything you had felt before and you loved it. Every chance you had, you felt his muscles, reveling in the fact such a physically strong man was so mental weak for you and only you.
“Can I cum? Please?” Joel begged for you, pleaded ever, lips quivering even as you kissed him.
“Almost there, baby, almost- mmmm- almost there. You can cum after me, okay?”
Joel nodded quick, tiny nods and hesitantly moved a hand to your hips. He looked up at you bouncing on his cock for permission, and when you nod back he goes to thumb at your clit. 
“OH GOD!” You shout, breathless, slick all over your thighs and his pants, his touch sending you over the edge. You cum hard, walls pulsing all around him and he doesn’t ask again before spilling his seed inside you, filling you to the brim.
Your body relaxes, but then Joel throws you to the ground causing you to drop your gun and for a moment you thought he bested you, got you distracted; until he dove right into your cunt with no regard for the lost gun. He didn’t care about beating you, he cared about tasting you. As he desperately licked his cum out of your dripping hole, you tugging at his curls, Joel humped the floor as if he hadn’t just gotten released. You pull him close, riding out another orgasm on his face. When you cum a third time, you have to push him back, the overstimulation from the desperate man’s tongue, lips and beard being too much. When you do, he looks up at you with wide eyes as if he had done something wrong, but you pull up and into a kiss before laying him down on the floor to kiss him some more.
“Not sure if I wanna let go of you, cowboy…” You tease, playing with his hair but keeping him firmly pressed to the ground. “Might have to keep you around, but my little guard dog, how about that?”
Joel’s eyes were glossy, his face so fucked out you weren’t sure he was fully cognizant. “Baby boy too tired to speak? That’s okay, I’ll take care of you too. You be the arms; I’ll be the brains. You won’t have to have a single thought outside me again, okay?”
***********
Part 2 here
LOWKEY NERVOUS BC THIS IS SUCH A DIFFERENT JOEL AND HE DOESNT DO A LOT OF TALKING?!?!?!?!?!??! UNSURE HOW I FEEL
Anyway I do hope to write more maybe? so if you wanna be tagged comment below! I liek the idea of having a joel I can kinda just write stuff about whenever instead of a story and an arch and characters to balance. This is just more casual. and i dont gotta go nuts keepingup with posting like my other stories. Im think a v joel tess kinda vibe where she's clearly leading him
I was supossed to be working on the next part to my Javi P x reader x Santi AU buuuutttttttttttt I couldnt get this idea out of my head. So. here you all go! I'll try and work on that, the dark! TF boys, TWW, and the Will Miller story lol its kinda a lot rn
Please consider reblogging and commenting to support your fav writers &lt;3
@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @morallyinept @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @the-fox-den @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @k-ra
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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year
Text
Midnight Blades
Aemond Targaryen x princess!reader (Dark!themes) Summary: Your father's kingdom had always been enemies with the Targaryen's and so you were trained from childhood to be prepared to defend yourself. This skill is needed when the second born son of King Viserys comes to assassinate you one night. This is a Dark!fic with slightish dub con to some sexual acts. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, dagger fighting, violence, blood play, rough sex, anal. WC: 2587
Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen || Part Fourteen || Part Fifteen || Part Sixteen || Part Seventeen || Part Eighteen || Part Nineteen || Part Twenty ||
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The room was dim, not a single candle burning on the autumn night. It was only the soft moonlight through the open window that allowed Aemond to weave his way silently through the furniture to where you slept. Not a sound was made from his careful steps nor did a cricket chirp, it was as if the entire world held its breath.
Cold Valyrian steel pressed to your throat and your lips twitched at the touch of the sharp blade. One clean slice and your life was forfeit, one prick in the right spot and your sheets would soak up your life blood as it spurted from your throat. It would bring the Targaryen prince infamy to kill the princess of his family’s enemy.
“Unless you wish to lose your manhood, you should sheath your blade, Aemond One-Eye,” you said as you opened your eyes to see his silhouette above you.
“You are in no position to give orders, princess.”
“Is that so, prince?” You pressed the blade that you never slept without up from your hip, the sharp tip piercing the sheets and the leather trousers at the juncture of his thighs.
The moon broke the clouds and his hair caught the light enough that you could see his features, and the hint of amusement on them.
“Even if I die, I can promise you that your life would certainly lack the finer pleasures in it.”
His lips curled up in a dark smile before he traced his blade down the valley of your breasts, taking the cover of your sheets down with it. “What does a protected, innocent little princess know of such things?”
Your back arched into the kiss of metal and your nipples were bared to the night air, quickly pebbling at the loss of warmth. “I’m not as protected as you might think, nor am I innocent. It is just as easy for me to evade the guards leaving as you did coming here. So, there are a great many pleasures I know, none of which I have found within these walls.”
“That is quite the secret to tell your enemy,” Aemond murmured as his eye traced the shape of your lips before drifting back to your breasts. “You should really keep such things to yourself.”
You chuckled and dragged the flat edge of your blade over the hard length tightening his trousers, watching his lips part with a sharp intake of breath. “You can shout it to the world, tell everyone you meet how I thoroughly enjoy mounting a man and riding his cock until the sun breaks the horizon. Tell them all how I love to see their teeth marks left on my skin and feel the ache in my cunt for days when they are finished fucking me.”
Even in the dim light you could see his pupil explode with dark desire and his blade drew a thin line of blood above your heart with a trembling hand, as if it was taking all his strength to fight the urge to carve it from your chest. He bared his teeth at the sight of the red welling on your skin and growled into your ear, “No one would believe the word of your enemy.”
“I know,” you said with a smirk that taunted him more than your dirty words. Your warm blood rolled over your skin to drip on the white sheets and you ran a lazy finger through the thin cut, hissing at the sweet sting it elicited. “You stained my sheets.”
Aemond scoffed and threw your blankets from your body to see the thin blade that had threatened him. “I have stained many ladies’ sheets.”
“Of that I have no doubt, but I do owe you now.” You leapt from the bed and he was quick to react, but not quick enough. Your bare feet met the cold, stone floor at the same time you struck. The blade was more like an extension of your arm than a separate weapon for all the years you had trained with it and like most men, Aemond underestimated you. 
The prince laughed as you stepped back and licked your blade, tasting the dragon blood on your tongue as more of it seeped into his black tunic. The scar would match yours perfectly and you grinned as he tore the ruined clothing from his body to bare the wound to you. “Now we are even.”
His eye trailed over your body, leaving flames in its wake as he finally seemed to notice your lack of dress extended past your breasts. That intense stare lingered at the juncture of your thighs where you stood with your legs parted hoping to cool the needy throb in your core. Finally he managed to drag his eye back to your face, the promise of violence in that blue orb. “There is no even, someone must always win.”
You twirled your dagger and let the familiar weight of the handle fill your palm again. “Oh, I intend to.”
Your feet were swift and silent as the dance began, your partner prepared this time and ready to prove his adept skills as he parried your attack. To and fro, you made ground and ceded it. His offensive attack was as strong as his defence and you had to hand it to whoever trained the prince, they did a damn good job. 
“Give it up, princess, this is a battle you won’t win,” Aemond goaded you as he dropped his dagger to his side. 
“I have the finest history tutors in the land,” you purred as you lowered your own knife and circled him, small knicks bleeding from both of your bodies. “You are awfully confident for a man who himself has not yet seen a battle.”
His eye followed your graceful steps until you were in the blind spot left by the carved sapphire set between a thick scar. Self preservation had him turning to follow you, the eyebrow above his deep blue gem cocking up as he spoke, “You studied me.”
“Don’t feel special, I research all of my enemies.” 
His steps mirrored yours and the tension built as the heavy silence seemed to vibrate the charged air. This time Aemond attacked first, closing the distance with one step of his long legs and feigned a stab at your shoulder only to drop to his knees as you lifted your arm to parry. He had the opening he needed. 
The pain was instant, a burn that flashed up your inner thigh and told you that it was not a deep wound. You didn’t even bother to check it as you felt rivulets of blood rolling down your leg, adding to the droplets that already littered the stone floor. 
“What did your research surmise?” Aemond asked as he fingered his blade, playing with your blood and smearing it between his thumb and forefinger. 
“You are arrogant.”
“I am a prince, it is our prerogative.”
“And stubborn,” you added, pointing your dagger at his scarred eye. “You have a chip on your shoulder for the scar you wear but even if you were to carve your nephew’s eye out and eat it, the rage will never be sated. Unforgiving Aemond, that is what they should call you, for you never forget a wrong against you, no matter how slight. Tell me, when was the last time you ate a juicy roast pig?”
His sapphire eye caught the moonlight and reflected in the many facets of the gem as his teeth ground together. The cold fury evaporated in an instant and a carefree smile once again spread across his lips. “I must commend you and your spies for the thorough research, princess. But, you forgot to mention how handsome I am, scar and all.”
You smirked and rolled your eyes. “I knew there was one starting with H, of course, it couldn’t be humble.”
A roar of laughter filled the room and before you could think better, you dropped your dagger and closed the distance to press your hands to his lips. The clatter of metal on stone rang out and you froze against his body, an ear tilted towards the door as you listened out for the guards. 
A moment passed, then two. All was silent in the palace, no alarms were raised.
Aemond made no effort to move, not even taking the opportunity to end your life while you were unarmed. It was only when the fear of the guards arriving wore off that you realised your entire body was pressed against his, his bare chest warm against your and his cock hard beneath his pants.
You slowly lowered your hands from his lips and let them fall to his blood smeared chest before dragging your nails across the defined muscles and down his navel. His chest rose with a deep breath as your hand dipped under his waistband and palmed his erection, a soft groan teasing your ear and sending a throb straight to your core.
“You will still be my enemy in the morning,” you murmured as his teeth grazed over your racing pulse and his own dagger fell to the floor.
“You are still my enemy now,” he replied as his fingers dipped between your legs and felt the slick arousal at your entrance. 
You shoved him back towards your bed, instantly missing the touch of his fingers but in need of something far larger. Patience was not a strength of yours as you tried and failed to quickly unlace the cords that kept the leather trousers between you and your release. Reaching under your pillow, you grabbed the spare knife hidden there and cut the ties from him. 
You shoved the short blade back where it belonged under the watchful eye of Aemond before dropping the trousers beside his ruined tunic. Every muscle was honed to perfection and scars littered his pale skin, adding to the image you already had of the warrior swordsman. You traced the larger scars on his chest with your tongue and nipped at another across his nipple until he hissed and his cock twitched where it rested against your stomach.
With a growl, he turned and threw you onto your bed, pinning you beneath his body and shoving your legs wide open with his knees. Two digits curled into your dripping cunt and your head tipped back with a silent cry as he roughly fucked you with his fingers, palming your clit with each roll of his wrist until you came hard enough to bite through your lip to keep quiet. 
“Fuck, I need more, I need you to fuck me,” you begged as he kept his fast paced fingers riding through your pulsing walls.
The wet sounds filled your room and you felt your cum leaking down your slit and to the bed. 
“I’ll fuck you, princess.” He chuckled darkly and your core clenched in anticipation. “Consider this my first battle won.” 
Before you could question him, you felt his thick head pressing against your ass and gasped as it stretched you open. White hot pain flashed before the sudden fullness drew a heady moan and his fingers began to move in time to his thrusts. Your breath came in fast grunts as his long strokes felt like they could reach your lungs and knock the air right from them, each one louder than the last.
“Shhhh, don’t want to get caught now…” he whispered before he withdrew his fingers from you and pushed them into your mouth to silence you.
The taste of your arousal on his fingers had your eyes fluttering shut and you swirled your tongue around each finger, cleaning it until he gave a satisfied growl of approval. 
“So. Fucking. Filthy.” Each word was defined with a hard thrust that rocked your bed against the wall and left your legs shaking around his narrow waist. “On your knees.”
You felt incredibly empty without him and quickly obeyed, needing him buried deep inside once again. There was nothing gentle about Aemond and gentle was not what you wanted. You wanted rough, you wanted hard, and you wanted pain.
A sharp slap sent flames across your ass and the moan that was about to erupt was silenced when Aemond shoved your face into the sheets and slammed his cock back in your ass. The air was thin through the sheets but it only added to the experience of feeling high with the room spinning around you.
“If only the King knew what a whore he had for a daughter,” Aemond growled in your ear as he pulled your back flush against his chest and curled his long fingers around your throat. “Taking a Targaryen cock in your pretty ass. I might just conquer your kingdom and keep you as my personal fuckhole.”
Your lips parted with a wordless cry and your body trembled as his words stoked the fire warming your belly, the muscles tensing as another orgasm spread like a wave from your core. It grew and grew, cresting with each harsh thrust that you pushed your hips back to meet until it crashed. His fingers tightened as his pace faltered and he shuddered his release, his cock pulsing inside you and filling you with warmth before letting you gasp for air. 
He pushed you back to the bed as he withdrew himself leaving you empty and your limbs weak and heavy from the release. With a feline smile you rolled to your back and stretched to feel the sweet tenderness in your muscles before curling up to watch him dress. 
“Is that all you Targaryen men have got?” You propped up on your elbow and rested your chin on your hand as he swiped his dagger from the floor, tucking it into the sheath at his hip. “The men in my realm can fuck all night before they are spent. But, I guess that is why we battle like we fuck - outlasting the House of the Dragon and such.”
Aemond stalked across the floor and grabbed your chin in his hands as he bent at the waist. “Still that tongue before you find yourself without it.”
“I think you would rather like what my tongue can do,” you purred as you laid back on your pillow and blinked up innocently at the prince. “Maybe another night when you have bathed and rested.”
“There will be no other nights,” he sneered but his eye betrayed him as he drank in the sight of your body sticky with blood and his cum leaking from your abused hole.
He turned away and you caught his wrist before he was beyond your reach. “One last thing before you go, Unforgiving Aemond.” You drew the short knife from under your pillow and slashed through the leather covering his thigh. “I owed you one.”
The prince hissed at the shallow cut to match the one gave you before he smiled and gave a small regal bow out of your reach. “Well played, princess. I’ll remember that when our paths cross again.”
You closed your eyes with a yawn and patted around blindly for your blanket as the adrenaline faded and sleep called. “I’ll be ready.”
A breeze danced over your body a moment before your blanket drifted over your skin but when you opened your eyes to catch him, the prince was already gone. The scent of sex and drying blood the only sign he was ever there at all.
Click here for part two.
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aurorawritestoescape · 3 months
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BAD BLOOD
Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller
Summary: you want your stepdad and your step uncle offers to help.
Tw for this part: +18, mdni, smut, talk of step-cest (for now), everyone is horrible, EVERYONE, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), degradation, f!masturbation, dark Joel, perv!joel, soft dark Tommy, dark reader, dirty thoughts all around, face slapping, smoking, swearing
Word count: 3,5k
A/n: no one look at me🫣 This is part 1 of my depraved family fic as I call it. I plan on 3 parts, next two are gonna be much more smutty. I have a fever rn so sorry for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy! 😵‍💫 @milla-frenchy it’s your fault for hyping this up so much!😘
Masterlist || Part II || Series masterlist
“How’s that stepdaughter of yours? Calls you daddy yet?”
“No, Joel, she’s twenty two. She ain’t gonna call me daddy,” Tommy replies, fumbling with the coaster under his beer bottle.
“Never say never,” Joel mumbles under his breath.
They’re sitting in a crowded bar, their booth table is sticky, the whole atmosphere is depressing and Tommy feels dirty just being here. It was Joel who picked the place and Tommy didn’t object.
“She doesn’t care much about me. Busy with boys,” Tommy explains with a slight sadness in his voice.
Joel’s face twists in a grin, eyes cold and intent, “So she’s a slut?”
Tommy chuckles, “She’s young and single as far as I know. She’s old enough to date. I don’t see any harm in exploring herself.”
“This explorin’ sounds a lot like whorin’ around,” Joel grunts with a smirk, emptying another glass.
“Nah, she’s a good girl,” Tommy follows Joel, chasing the last of his beer with a few nuts.
“Gonna get another round,” Joel says, getting out of their booth. Tommy is about to stop him but he hasn’t seen his brother for a while so he decides that one more beer won’t harm anyone. Yet when Joel returns with four shots of tequila and then two more beers Tommy regrets his stay.
Joel insists and Tommy as always gets influenced by his older brother. They drink and discuss business, work, sports, they drink more and Tommy feels that the room starts spinning. He asks the bartender for water and then returns to the table.
“How long is your stepdaughter staying with you?” Joel asks narrowing his eyes at Tommy.
“For a few more weeks,” Tommy answers, surprised they’re talking about you again.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Joel lowers his voice, his eyes glinting under the dim lights.
“About what?” Tommy asks, glancing up at his brother. By the tone of Joel, Tommy knows what Joel is talking about and he averts his eyes looking anywhere but his brother’s face.
Joel leans back on the seat, his arm resting on the back of it.
“About fucking her,” Joel speaks louder making Tommy squirm in his seat, as his eyes are darting around the bar.
Joel notices his unease and smirks, “I’ve stayed for a couple of days and already noticed her parading around in her tiny skirts and crop tops. The bitch is waiting to be bent over your kitchen counter, brother.”
Tommy rubs his chin feeling blood rush to his face as well as his crotch, “No, Joel, I love Jess.” Why the fuck is his voice so quiet and shaky all of a sudden?
Joel isn’t having any of it, “Maybe you do, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to fuck her daughter, right?”
Tommy laughs uncomfortably but the tequila has hit him hard so after a few moments he hums looking at the empty shot glass.
As if having been waiting for this tiny crack in Tommy’s facade, Joel leans on the table getting closer to Tommy, his scowl carnal and triumphant,
“Here’s my little brother. He’s still somewhere inside this boring family man. I remember you being able to get any girl you wanted. Fucked them good. I taught you everything I knew after all. They’re all simple sluts. Call them pretty, then slap their pussy and they’ll do anything for you, give you any hole. Do you want your stepdaughter’s holes, Tommy?”
Tommy’s eyes are blown out and dark, his palms are sweaty. The memories of his escapades flood his mind and he can’t help but get hard thinking of all the pussy he used to get. Before settling down.
“So do you?!” Joel interrupts his brother’s thoughts with a loud question. Tommy flinches, his nerves alight, head cloudy, and answers, “Yes.”
Joel tilts his head and continues, “How would you do it? Hypothetically of course.”
Tommy sees pride in Joel’s eyes and feels cocky. All his life he wanted to get his brother’s approval. It led to a lot of bad situations, as Joel’s influence had been almost always negative. But Tommy can’t help but go back in time to his younger self, drunk on tequila and his sibling’s poisonous words. Staring at his hands he starts talking, quietly but so Joel could hear him,
“I’d fuck her in her room. She has a nice big bed, all pink and pretty. Would push her face into a pillow and rail her from behind. You’re right. She acts like she wants it. Walking into the kitchen in the morning all sleepy in her tiny pjs. The shorts barely cover her ass. I caught a glimpse of her pussy once when she was reaching for the cereal. Nearly came in my pants. She sleeps in just those shorts. Easy access. Could slide them to the side and slip my cock into her tight pussy. Maybe she’d think it’s a dream. Imagine fucking her sleeping body. Fuck…She’d wake up full of her stepdad’s cum and wouldn’t know it. Only later when she starts dripping me out of her hole and...”
Someone shouts in the bar and Tommy snaps out of his drunk daydreaming. He adjusts his hardening bulge and glances up at his brother. He sees Joel’s expression and his body erupts in goosebumps. The man in front of him looks like the devil himself, eyes cold and dark, mouth twisted in a smile that resembles a scowl.
“Got you, brother,” he mumbles and Tommy sees a phone in Joel’s hand. The man puts it on the table and Tommy sees that he’s been on a call with someone. Joel hangs up and leans back grinning wider.
“What the fuck?” Tommy asks trying to clear his mind but in vain. Suddenly he feels like he has blacked out. He must be out cold, drunk and dreaming because he hears your voice. Here, in this dark sleazy bar.
“Hey, daddy!”
As if in slow motion caused by his drinking and shock he sees you slide into their booth and take a seat next to Joel. His brother throws his arm around you.
“What the fuck?” Tommy repeats his question, gaping at you both and you give him an innocent smile putting your hands on your naked thighs barely covered by a short plaid skirt, saying, “Just wanted to join you too. Seems like you’re having fun.”
You feel Joel’s heavy arm on your shoulders, his thumb is caressing your collar bone. You sense him staring at your cleavage peeking out of the low cut top and can’t help but gush.
“We are, baby,” Joel rumbles, licking his lips while Tommy is staring at you and your step uncle.
“Give uncle a smooch, baby. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Joel lowers his face closer to you and you feel tequila on his breath burning your cheek.
“You saw me at breakfast this morning, perv,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Suddenly a hand grabs a fist of your hair and yanks your head back. Joel is pressing his side to yours, his face hovers over you, as he hisses, “that’s no way to talk to your seniors, girl” His eyes are blown out, he is enjoying it and you are too. Your legs tremble and you feel yourself getting wetter.
Tommy gets up and tries to reason with Joel saying that people are staring and he must let you go.
You’re blinking up at your step uncle and forget why you’re there for a second. Your gaze darts to his plush lips, they are waiting to be kissed and bitten. You shoot him a smile and he groans.
Joel hears worried mumbling from around their booth and lets go of your hair much to your disappointment. He looks around with a polite smile, mouthing, ‘All good, just joking.”
You fix your hair and look at your stepdad who has plunged back into his seat, eyes worried and wide.
“You can’t grab her like that, Joel! What the fuck is happening between you too?” Tommy exclaims but in a hushed voice.
Joel adjusts the prominent bulge in his jeans and takes a big gulp of his beer.
You're batting your lashes at Tommy and breathe out, “Don’t worry, daddy. I’ve forgotten my manners.”
Joel chuckles, you smile and Tommy furrows his brows. “Since when are you calling me daddy,” that’s what he wants to ask but doesn’t dare, not when Joel is here, not after the conversation they’ve just had.
So he takes a sip and asks you if you want anything.
“Thanks, I’m good. My friend is waiting for me in the car. I just popped in to say ‘hi’ to my favorite stepdad and step uncle,” you reply, giving them both your sweetest smile, fumbling with your necklace. You haven’t missed the way they both stare at your chest.
You get up peeling off your thighs of the sticky seat and pause next to Joel for a second fixing your skirt. Tommy rises up to his feet but you stop him with a wave of your hand, “It’s ok, I’ll find my way out,” you giggle and get out of the booth. You look at Joel who’s shamelessly ogling your ass and legs.
You wait for him to pay your face some attention and when he finally glances up you bend over the table and kiss his scruffy cheek before whispering, “Bye, Uncle Joel.” When you straighten up and turn to Tommy, Joel places his big warm hand on the back of your thigh and gives it a squeeze. You move away from him feeling dampness between your legs and step up to Tommy, whose jaw hasn’t closed up since the moment you showed up.
You bend over and kiss his cheek too. Your lips linger on his face a little longer than necessary and Tommy places his hand on your shoulder to gently push you away. You feel a pang in your heart but don’t show it. You’ll have him very soon.
“Have a good night, daddy.. uncle,” you coo, looking at one man and then the other.
You turn your head to your stepdad and say quietly, so only he could hear,
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Tommy. I'll make sure to wear the pjs you like.”
You watch his face growing paler and your lips twist in a smirk. You turn on your heels and head for the exit, passing Joel and giving him a wink. He returns it with one of his predatory grins.
Your heart is pounding in your chest and as soon as you leave the bar you take a deep breath of fresh night air. You find your friend’s car, get in and ask her to take you home. You light a cigarette with shaky hands not being able to believe you got what you wanted. Well not exactly what you wanted but you’re definitely closer to the final goal.
You look at the red dot of the cigarette burning in the darkness of the car and remember today’s morning when you were smoking on the patio of your mom’s house.
***
Joel joined you there after breakfast and took a seat next to you. He lit a cigarette too and for some time you were sitting in silence. He was leering at you from the side of his eye and after a dozen of sleazy glares you got fed up. “Would you quit staring, old man?” you asked Joel in an accusatory tone. He just chuckled as his dark eyes slid down from your face to your chest, and then legs.
Everyone was aware that Tommy’s brother was a sleaze bag. Single, no children, with a bouquet of addictions which none of many rehabs could treat. He also was hot. You didn’t hate him, but rather came to admire the extent of him not giving any fucks. He always said whatever he wanted and trolled your mom whenever he’d visit his brother which gave you immense pleasure and satisfaction. At least someone didn’t see Jess as a perfect little house wife.
“I could ask you the same question, sweetheart,” he replied with a sly smile. You furrowed your brows in confusion taking the next drag and then quipped, “I wouldn’t look your way if you were the last dick left on the planet!”
He chuckled and you hated how much you loved the sound and the fact that you managed to make him laugh.
“Nah, angel, I’m talkin’ about the way you stare at my little brother,” You opened your mouth to tell him there was nothing little about Tommy but fortunately shut it just in time. You couldn’t forget the time you had caught him in the bathroom naked after taking a shower so you knew that his cock was long and thick. He had a happy trail on his soft tummy, a broad chest and muscular arms. You lost count of how many times you had gotten off to that image.
Suddenly your palms got clammy when you heard what exactly Joel said.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. You should have your eyes checked, Joel. At your age it might be a good time to get glasses.”
He didn’t laugh that time, just looked at you intently with his piercing stare.
“I could help you get what you want,” he rumbled in the quiet of the yard. You narrowed your eyes at him, birds chirping in the trees was the only sound accompanying your thoughts. Is he joking? Is it some kind of a trap? You wouldn’t be surprised. It was Joel after all.
“What do you think I want?” you asked him carefully.
“To fuck Tommy and get back at your bitch of a mother.”
You laughed but it didn’t sound natural at all. You were surprised to your core that he read you like a book. You didn’t say anything and just continued smoking and staring into the distance.
“I have an idea and if you like the plan, we could help each other out.”
“How would we do it?” you asked and added hastily, “hypothetically of course.”
Joel told you about the plan, the first step of which would be fulfilled perfectly and the result of it would be stored in your phone now.
When he finished explaining it to you, you asked him why he wanted to ruin his brother’s life. Bringing the cigarette to his lips from time to time, Joel complained that Tommy had abandoned their family business, had left his life in Austin, had left Joel, his only family member, chasing some mediocre pussy (you smiled at that). Joel wanted his brother out of that marriage as he hated Jess (you smiled again) and wanted Tommy back. “I don’t know why you hate your mom like that but I don’t doubt you have a reason,” he concluded.
You hummed at that leaning back, your expression serious and pensive.
As if sensing your doubt Joel spoke again, “I’ll add a big bonus to our deal.”
You glanced his way and waited for him to continue.
“On top of getting my brother’s dick you’ll get mine as well.”
Now you couldn’t help but laugh, “Why the fuck would I need your dick?” you asked giggling, being in awe at the man’s enormous ego.
“You surely don’t need it, sweetheart, but fuckin’ hell you want it,” as if proving his point he grabbed his bulge and adjusted it looking straight into your eyes. “I’ll fuck you like no boy ever did. Like my little brother never will. Believe me, baby, if you want a good dickin’ down, you need Joel.”
With an open mouth you stared at the man next to you. The pull he had on you was hard to deny when your panties were soaked just being next to him, talking to him. His masculinity, his darkness, his self confidence captivated your soul, mind and body. But you couldn’t just admit it.
“I’m pretty sure I can have you right here, right now if I wanted to, dirty creep,” you spit out at him leaning forward and putting your elbows on your knees.
He turned his head away from you, smiled, then got up with a grunt and came up to your chair. He was towering over you, so much bigger and stronger than you that you started to regret your harsh words. You stared up at him hiding your growing fear as well as you could. His gaze was locked with yours and you flinched when he placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed your cheekbone with his thick thumb. Your eyes were about to flutter shut and it took everything from you not to purr into his gentle touch when all of a sudden he gave your cheek a slap, not hard, but your head spun to the side and you had to grab the arms of the chair for stability.
“Think about it, sweetheart,” he said and went inside the house.
You rubbed your cheek not feeling the pain but a surge of shame shooting into your heart and then right to your pussy. The desire to be used by him started burning in your stomach. You wanted both of the brothers now and if you could have it all in one move, why the fuck not?
Joel didn’t look surprised when you approached him later and agreed to the deal. You discussed the details and that evening everything went smoothly.
***
As soon as you are in your bedroom you rush to the night stand and grab your favorite toy. You throw it on the bed along with your phone and plunge down next to them. You take off your thong and notice that the gusset is soaked through. You throw the ruined underwear on the floor before taking your phone and adjusting AirPods in your ears. The house is empty, your mom having a girls night out, Tommy still in the bar, so you can enjoy the result of yours and Joel’s efforts fully. At least until you get the real thing. You find the audio and press play. Right into your ears as clearly as if he was next to you, you hear Joel’s drawl asking Tommy about you. You spread your legs and dip two fingers between your folds. You’re so wet they slide down to your entrance easily. You hear Tommy talk about you and your pussy flutters. You push the fingers inside and start slowly fucking yourself rubbing your clit from time to time. “So she’s a slut?” Joel asks in your ears and you moan moving your fingers faster. You can’t get enough of them talking about you like that. When Tommy calls you ‘a good girl’ you nearly come so you pull your fingers out and pant heavily trying to calm down. You know the good part is coming soon so you need to wait for it.
For some time you just lie there, eyes closed, skirt pulled up to your waist, pussy dripping and glistening under the light of the moon coming through the window. You don’t dare touch your nipples like you usually do, as you know you’ll come right away.
When you hear Joel’s “how would you do it?” you return your hand to your throbbing pussy. You plunge your fingers into your slicked entrance and slowly begin massaging your insides, pressing the pads of your fingers against your g-spot.
“Would push her face into the pillow… rail her from behind” You can’t help but moan so you bite on the back of your hand to stop your whimpers in case someone comes home.
“She acts like she wants it... I caught a glimpse of her pussy…”
Fuck, Tommy!
Your digits slide out of your hole and caress your pulsing clit. You feel your orgasm on the tips of your fingers.
“Easy access. Could just slide them to the side and slip my cock into her tight pussy…Imagine fucking her sleeping body. She'd wake up full of her stepdad's cum…”
“Stepdad’s cum” Fuck… You roughly push your fingers back into your hole, fucking yourself in earnest now and in just a few seconds you explode, pussy squirting its juices all over your bedding, your soaked hand still working your g-spot prolonging the hardest orgasm of your life. You arch your back, all your muscles tighten, and you bite your lip till it bleeds.
Your moans are leaving your mouth openly now. You don’t care anymore, blinded by ecstasy, drowning in pleasure. Nothing exists anymore, no one exists, just you and your hand on your fluttering pussy.
The recording stops and you lie on the bed spent, your limbs tingling pleasantly. Still trying to catch your breath, you throw your soaked bedding off, and the forgotten toy falls on the floor with a thud. You get under the blanket still clothed and as soon as you close your eyes you fall asleep.
***
Thank you for reading!❤️
Your comments and reblogs would make me very happy!💖💖💖
Part II
Tag list: @iamasaddie @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @missannwinchester @nervousmumbling
If you want to be tagged for this mini series or everything else of mine please let me know🫶
***
For other stepdad or ‘uncle’ activities check out these hot stories if you haven’t already 🥵
A little discipline - stepdad!Joel x reader by @walkintotheriveranddisappear
Uncle Ezra by @bonezone44
App Store - stepdad!Joel by @toxicanonymity
Bad girl - stepdad!Joel by @seventeenpins
The final jump - stepdad!Joel by @talaok
Please heed the warnings of the fics!
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toxicanonymity · 23 days
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The Worst 
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1.3k, Tom “Redfly” Davis x DARK f!Reader 
SUMMARY: You make Tom pay for Frankie's death.
WARNINGS: I8+ DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE noncon or very dubcon p in v, implied murder, roofie, forced gun sucking, restraints, degradation, praise kink?, Dom reader. Tom survives / Frankie dies AU.
Dedicated to @romanarose who is hosting a write a thon for the @triplefrontier-anniversary.
Happy 5 years to Tom ruining everything. He's the worst, but I'm sorry to say he's also packing.
-------------
You pretended to take comfort in him during your grief. Your flirtations over the past weeks had all been a ruse, as were your advances tonight. You always had one goal – to get Tom tied up in your basement.
Finally, you had him sitting at your kitchen table drinking a night cap. You rubbed his thigh and he looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive, if only he could muster the energy.  His eyelids were heavy with lust and a roofie.
“Maybe we could, uh, get more comfortable,” Tom slurred, nodding toward the living room. 
You downed the rest of your drink, set the glass down, and lowered yourself onto his lap, side saddle. 
“Ohh,” he muttered with his mouth barely open. “Hello.” 
“I was thinking we could go downstairs,” you purred. 
He swallowed, raised his eyebrows, and nodded, “Sure.” 
“Frankie ever tell ya ‘bout our hobbies? Lotta fun stuff down there.”
His face gave him away. “Uhh,” he stalled, “Sounds-” You ran your hand through his hair. “-Sounds good,” Tom muttered at a horny pitch. His eyes lingered on your lips, then he cleared his throat. 
“I'm gonna need ya to trust me though, Tom. Can ya do that?” 
Tom nodded. 
“Yes ma’am,” you whispered. 
“Yes ma’am,” he confirmed, clearly enjoying this. Your dominance was a perfect fit for his being a lazy sack of shit. 
“Good.”
—----------
In the basement–more of a sex dungeon, as it were–you sat Tom down in a metal chair. He let you tie him up and barely objected when you zip tied his hands behind his back. 
“Mmm,” he hummed as you did it. 
“Good boy,” you told him, making him blush. His eyes lazily danced across your face in bemusement.  “Now I'm gonna go change,”  you said. 
-
You returned in a black lingerie set – a lacy top over a strappy, crotchless bottom. You had tucked Frankie’s old pistol into the back of the bottom piece. The cool metal made your skin tighten with goosebumps all over. 
You slowly approached Tom and watched his eyes consume you. Without sitting down, you straddled him so you were standing with your tits in his face. You let him play. He nuzzled his head into your breasts, then nosed at a nipple. 
“Fuck me,” he whispered, then took one into his mouth, through the lace. 
“God, you worthless shit,” you laughed with faux affection. 
“Heh,” Tom chuckled sadly against your tit.
He didn’t notice you reach for the gun. You used the barrel to massage yourself through your underwear. He glanced down, then his eyes snapped back up to you. “Whoa, careful with that,” he laughed nervously with the barrel pointing right at his dick as you slid the cool metal against the lace covering your mound. 
“This is Frankie’s,” you said wistfully and raised the gun to admire it. You used the barrel to nudge his chin so he looked at you. He froze. “You’re gonna suck Frankie’s dick now,” you nodded and slid the barrel up his jaw, then nudged his lips with the muzzle. 
His breathing was heavier and faster. His eyes were less sleepy. 
He maneuvered to dodge the barrel. “Listen, sweetie,” he started. “Are you okay? Maybe we’ll just  — maybe. . .  watch a movie tonight,” his voice trailed off as your face made it clear you were not fucking around. 
“Open.” You grabbed his jaw. “It’s the least you can do, Tom.” 
Tom swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered. “You’re right.” He let the muzzle into his mouth. 
“Good,” you whispered. “Go on.”
You pushed the barrel further into his mouth. “Suck it, Tom. Suck Frankie’s cock.” 
His face whitened as he began to hesitantly bob his head. 
“If it weren’t for you, I’d be sucking Frankie’s real cock right now,” you reminded him and watched dread fall over his face. He hardly moved at all. 
“You can do better than that.” You pushed the gun further into his mouth and his teeth hit the metal. “Good,” you whispered as he took as much of the pistol as he could. You held the back of his head and fucked his mouth with the gun. He looked up at you pleadingly and whined incoherently. You mercifully let the barrel out of his mouth, a string of drool falling down his chin. 
“Look,” his face was serious and his tone was more sober. “I know you’re devastated. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We can–” 
“Shut up.” You crossed your wrists behind his head and lowered yourself onto his lap. Your most sensitive area met his semi-hard bulge and you let out a moan. 
“Oh, Tom,” you sighed, impressed. 
As it turned out, there was one area where Tom didn't fall short, and your body wouldn't let you ignore it.  “Fuck,” you whispered as he hardened beneath you. You were throbbing against him. The adrenaline already had your blood flowing, and now it was flowing south. His cock twitched against you. His breath was shallow.
He watched your face carefully. He was as quiet and still as a mouse. 
“Got him killed, and now you wanna fuck his girl, don’t ya?”
Tom nodded hesitantly. 
You scoffed. “With friends like you,” you started. “Pathetic.”  A subtle lift of his hips took all your thoughts away as his warm, hard package rubbed against your front. You had never hate fucked someone before. . . With the gun still behind his head, you nudged the nape of his neck with the muzzle and he flinched. “You’re not gonna say a word,” you warned. Then you reached down between you and feverishly unbuttoned his cargo pants. 
You reached into his boxers and gasped at the smooth heat of his naked girth against your palm. “Jesus,” you whispered as you took it out. A hint of cockiness tugged at the corner of his mouth before he appeared to remember his imminent doom.
With your gun hand, you braced yourself using the back of his neck for leverage. You took your thong to the side, then spit on  your hand and wiped it on his dick. God how you hated this man. You lined yourself up, then sank down with a rush of pleasure to your chest as your cunt slowly swallowed his thick length. You closed your eyes and thought of Frankie as you began to roll your hips. Your heart was racing. 
He moaned nearly silently as you fucked yourself on his massive cock. You got wetter and wetter. You could feel Frankie’s presence. You could practically smell his scent wafting off of Tom. You could feel the ghost of Frankie’s hands on your ass and practically hear his whispers in your ear. Should’ve ridden his face, he said in your head and you breathed out a laugh as you rode him.
You let out a sigh and Tom shuddered. You imagined Frankie’s brown eyes looking deep into yours, and your walls twitched around Tom’s cock. You whimpered as you came. 
“Fuck,” Tom murmured through gritted teeth as you choked his cock.Then he erupted inside you. You groaned as his warm spend flooded your core. 
-
When you were finished, you sat there on his cock and you both read each other’s faces. He knew his time was up. You took the safety off the gun. 
“What a way to go,” Tom muttered in resignation. He winced as you squeezed him with an aftershock.
“You took him from me, Tom.” 
“I know, honey,” he agreed. “It’s okay. Kid's better off with the life insurance.” 
The next few seconds felt like minutes. Your heart raced and you could see Tom’s heartbeat in his neck. 
Tom took a deep breath. “Just put it in my mouth.” He nodded. “And pull the trigger,” he whispered. 
His gaze was apologetic as the muzzle once again nudged his lips. He closed his eyes with his softening cock still sheathed in your warmth.  You didn’t feel a thing as the hammer clicked under your thumb.
-----
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Thank you for reading!
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rvfecamerons · 3 months
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older stepsis!reader jerking off rafe and he’s just a whimpering and crying mess but rose and ward are in the room next to them, and reader keeps telling rafe to shut up because he wouldn’t want his parents to hear how much of a slut he is for his stepsister right?
(im the anon btw who said i had an thought about sub!rafe 😭)
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he’s trying his hardest to stay quiet, he really is, but the task is proving to be impossible as rafe sits with his legs spread out on the loveseat in your room, head lulled back between his shoulders as you fist his cock in your hand.
he can hardly sit still, constantly bucking his hips and readjusting himself in the seat as you drag and twist your hand skillfully up and down his hard shaft. occasionally, you’d let a string of saliva drop down onto his pink tip, added lubrication for your palm, which would quickly smooth the saliva out around his cock.
you were doing a pretty good job of keeping quiet, aside from the tiny moans you’d let out here and there. you always got off on pleasuring others, but you toned down your arousal now, careful as to not alert the wandering ears on the lower level of the house.
your step-brother on the other hand, was not doing as good of a job. no matter how many times you scolded him, slapping at his thighs or tugging at what hair you could reach on the top of his head from your position on the floor, rafe couldn’t help but groan out, whimpering even. it was all too much for him, but it was just pathetic to you.
“can you shut the fuck up?” you taunted, eyes sporting a devious glint as you glared up at him lustfully from your knees. “god, can’t even think about taking you in my mouth, you’re just too fucking loud.”
rafe gritted his teeth, hands gripping the sides of the sofa beneath him as he let out another loud groan. “m’trying, you just-ah-you know what you’re doing.”
“ehh, i don’t think you’re trying hard enough.” you taunted, pairing your words with a doe-eyed look as you kept you eyes fixed on your step-brother. you allowed your thumb to smooth over his tip softly, teasingly.
your palm came to a halt when rafe let out a particularly loud groan, and you both heard a stirring in the room on the other side of the wall. “guess i should just stop,” you shrugged, and rafe struggled to right his breathing again.
“no,” he blurted out, and you raised an eyebrow at his eagerness. “i-i’ll be quiet, swear.”
you smirked devilishly up at him, allowing your hand to replenish it’s movements from moments ago. “good boy. wouldn’t want your daddy to find out how much of a slut you are for your step-sister, right?”
{ send me your dark!rafe ideas and don’t hold back!!! }
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