╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: You find yourself in the strong, capable arms of Charlie Swan after you find out your best friend got married and had a baby
╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, best friend's dad, age gap (reader is college-aged), fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, slight dirty talk, alcohol consumption
╰› ✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧
Forks hadn’t changed. The rain still fell in sheets, blurring the outlines of the pines as you passed. You hadn’t realized how much you missed the steady hum of the rain pattering against your windshield. Forks always had a way of making you feel comforted and hollow all at once.
College had kept you busy, but there was always a quiet tug in your heart when you thought about this little town. You told yourself it was nostalgia. You told yourself it wasn’t about her.
You parked at your usual spot in front of the Swan house. The same old cruiser was parked in the driveway, though the paint looked a little duller, the tires a little more worn. You hesitated, your fingers tightening on the steering wheel as you looked up at the familiar white siding. You hadn’t written, hadn’t called. You just… left after graduation. You knew a clean break would be easier, less heartwrenching. College in Portland quickly consumed you, but every once in a while, your mind drifted to Forks, to Bella.
Rain drenched your hair, and your shoes scruffed against the concrete steps as you forced yourself toward the door. You knocked twice, your fingers trembling from the downpour.
The door creaked open, and there he was. Charlie Swan, chief of police and Forks’ resident bachelor, stood before you, flannel-clad and unshaken, blinking like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
For a moment, he looked too surprised to speak. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned. Look who’s back.”
“Hi, Chief,” you replied, a bit sheepish. “Is Bella home?”
Something flickered in his expression, and your stomach twisted as dread settled in your ribs like a fifty-pound weight. He opened the door wider.
“Why don’t you come in? You’ll catch a cold out there in the rain.”
The warmth of the house hit you immediately, and the smell of coffee and pine wrapped around you like an embrace. You shrugged off your jacket and stood awkwardly in the living room. Nothing had changed; there was the same recliner, the same photos decorating the wall. You half expected Bella to come bounding down the stairs like she used to.
Charlie didn’t call out for her, though. Instead, he led you to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. You watched as he made it how you liked— more sugar and creamer than coffee. He motioned toward the table, and you took your usual seat. He slid a mug over toward you, and you gratefully took it.
He let out a deep sigh when he finally sat across from you. “I guess you haven’t heard then,” he said softly.
“Heard what?”
He was quiet for a moment, and your heart sank with each passing second.
“Bella got married,” he murmured. His voice was gentle, careful. It reminded you of the tone people used when someone died or something horrible happened. You knew that tone well.
The words landed like stones in your stomach, and you focused on the coffee swirling in your cup. “She has a little girl now, too,” Charlie continued.
“She’s married?” you echoed, attempting to ignore the way bile rose in your throat. “And she had a baby?”
Charlie’s eyes softened. “It all happened so fast, faster than I would’ve liked,” he explained.
“She— she didn’t tell me. I mean, I know I kinda disappeared after graduation—” you rambled, your thoughts racing and the kitchen suddenly too small.
Steam rose from your untouched coffee, and the rain drummed harder against the window, blurring the world outside. You stood, your chair scraping against the linoleum. You wanted to scream, cry, storm out of the Swan house, and leave Forks for good.
Charlie stood along with you. He sighed, rubbing his hand down his face as your lip trembled. “Think this conversation might call for something a bit stronger than coffee,” he breathed.
He opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. The brown liquid sloshed gently in the cup, and he held it out to you. Your fingers brushed against his as you took it. They were rough and calloused, but warm all the same.
You took a sip, and then a gulp. The liquid burned as it made its way down your throat, but it was better than the aching in your chest.
“Whoa, whoa,” Charlie interjected, pulling the glass away from your lips. “Gotta be sober enough to remember this conversation.”
Bourbon dripped down your chin, and you wiped it away as you looked up at him. “I thought she’d still be here,” you mumbled. “That maybe things would’ve still been the same.”
Charlie leaned against the counter and took a sip of his drink. “She moved a while back. After the wedding, things got…complicated,” he explained, his tone suggesting that he didn’t quite understand it himself.
His voice was low, gentle. You looked up at him, and for a moment, you saw someone more than your best friend’s dad. Something flickered in his eyes: understanding, loneliness, and a hint of something else. Charlie had lost something, too. His little girl had built a life that didn’t include him anymore. It struck you that you weren’t the only one Bella left behind.
The air feels heavy then, not just from the rain but with everything unsaid. His hand brushed yours again, this time deliberately. You didn’t dare pull away.
“You’ve changed,” he murmured after a heartbeat passed.
You chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. “So have you.”
It was his turn to chuckle. He let out a breath, “Yeah, ‘suppose I have.”
You looked up at him. You were close enough to see the specks of gray littering his mustache and the tired kindness behind his eyes. You wondered when the last time he got a decent amount of sleep was.
When he reached up to touch your cheek, you didn’t stop him. His thumb traced a gentle line across your jaw, and your breath caught in your throat.
“Charlie,” you breathed. The word quickly dissolved into the space between you, and you met his gaze. His eyes were a deep brown that you’d spent the latter half of your high school career memorizing.
He leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away, come to your senses. You didn’t. His lips brushed against yours, gentle and tasting faintly like whiskey. Then again, deeper this time, and his hand slipped behind your neck as you leaned into him. He shuffled forward so you were pressed against the counter. You set your glass down and cupped his face, tugging him impossibly closer.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your lips.
“I don’t want you to,” you purred, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.
You pulled him in by his flannel, your lips meeting in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His hands snaked around your waist, gripping you tightly. Charlie groaned against you and dragged his tongue across your bottom lip.
You reached a hand between the two of you and pawed at the button on his jeans, your fingers clumsy from the arousal flowing through you.
You forced yourself to focus enough to pop the button on Charlie’s jeans. You dipped your hand under the waistband of his briefs, your fingertips brushing against the head of his cock. A strangled groan left Charlie as you wrapped a hand around him.
“Wait, baby,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist. You furrowed your brow as you looked up at him. “We can’t, not here anyway,” he continued, nodding toward the bay window to your left. The blinds were cracked, leaving you a perfect view of the street in front of the house. Any passerby could clearly see you with your hand down Chief Swan’s pants.
Your cheeks flushed at the thought. “Upstairs?” you suggested, withdrawing your hand.
Charlie chuckled before intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you toward his bedroom. You climbed the stairs like you had thousands of times before, only this time you turned into the first bedroom instead of the one at the end of the hall.
The door to Charlie’s bedroom clicks softly behind you, and you take in your surroundings. His room was simple, but unmistakably his. A long, wooden dresser stood on the wall to your right. Its surface was scattered with spare change, a silver watch, and a photograph of Charlie with a younger Bella, both squinting from the sun. The bed itself was large, the quilt folded back and ruffled as if he hadn’t bothered to make it.
Charlie watched as your gaze drifted across the room. “It’s not much,” he mentioned, shrugging a bit.
“It’s very… you,” you replied, a hint of teasing in your voice.
He chuckled and took a step forward, his hands finding your hips. “I’m gonna pretend I know what that means,” he murmured, lifting one of his hands to cup your face. His lips met yours in a tender kiss, and your fingers tangled into the soft fabric of his flannel as you tugged him toward his bed.
The backs of his thighs hit the mattress, and he tumbled onto it. You were quick to follow him, your lips chasing after his. His fingertips skirted over your thighs, and you pulled away to litter kisses across his neck. His head tilted to the side, granting you further access as a strained noise rumbled from the back of his throat.
“Baby,” he breathed as you ground your hips against him. The bulge of his jeans rubbed tantalizingly against your aching core, and soft moans escaped you.
With each passing moment, Charlie removed layer upon layer of clothing. He began with your sweater, sliding it gingerly over your head before returning his lips to yours. Your leggings were next, followed by Charlie’s shirt and his jeans. The offending articles of clothing are quickly discarded, leaving only landscapes of bare flesh between you.
Charlie swallowed hard as he gazed down at you, bare and wanting beneath him. You didn’t remember how you ended up underneath him. Perhaps it was somewhere between you pulling off his shirt and him tugging off your panties. His fingers slid lower, gently tracing over every dip and curve.
“You sure?” he murmured, his brown eyes meeting yours.
You nodded, reaching up to run your hands over the wide expanse of his back. “Very,” you replied softly, tugging him closer.
Charlie dipped his head to press his lips against yours, capturing you in a honeyed kiss. He reached down to slide a finger through your folds, earning a gasp from you. He circled your clit before moving down to tease your entrance.
You arched against his touch, moaning against his lips. He inched a finger inside you and pumped it a few times, stretching you deliciously. His touch was maddening, and your head spun with just how much you needed him. You needed his lips against yours, his hands against your body, his cock inside you.
“Charlie,” came your desperate whimper, “fuck me, please.”
Embarrassment stung your cheeks at your words, but you were too far gone to care. A low groan rumbled from Charlie’s chest, and you gasped as he quickly indulged you. The blunt head of his cock dragged through your dripping folds, collecting your arousal. With a low, guttural moan, Charlie nudged the head of his cock into your entrance, stretching you inch by tantalizing inch. The plush skin of your thighs sank underneath his fingertips as he bottomed out. Charlie sucked in a sharp breath as your walls fluttered around him.
“Need a minute,” he breathed, sounding nearly as wrecked as you felt.
His head dropped onto your shoulder, and he littered kisses across the soft skin there. His stubble scratched against your neck, and your nails dug into his back as impatience began to settle in.
Charlie began to rock his hips against yours, pulling out a little with each drag of his hips. You pulled him closer to you, raking your nails over the broad expanse of his back. You felt his muscles ripple under your touch, and your fingertips pressed into the now-flushed skin.
Your walls fluttered and clenched around him as he readjusted his angle, hitting the sensitive spot inside you. He reached down to draw figure eights against your clit, and you gasped his name. The obscene sound of your dripping heat, combined with skin slapping against skin, filled his bedroom, and you briefly wondered how long it had been since these kinds of sounds had bounced against these four walls.
Heat coiled in your lower belly, a deep aching filling you and clouding your thoughts. Charlie’s movements quickened, the bed groaning in response.
“C’mon, baby,” he urged, his fingers quickening against your clit. “Cum for me.”
Your thighs clamped against his hips as you threw your head back and came hard around his cock. A whiney moan left your throat raw as you writhed against him.
A strained groan escaped Charlie as his hips stuttered and his release crashed over him. Thick ropes of his cum painted your walls, and you whined at the feeling. His release mixed with your own and spilled onto the sheets below you as he slowly pulled out of you with a shuddering breath.
You half expected a feeling of regret to wash over you as your eyes bored into Charlie’s brown ones. That feeling never came, and as Charlie pressed his lips against yours, you felt anything but regret. Here in Charlie’s bed, your body pressed against his, you were right where you belonged.
feat. Billy Loomis & Stu Macher
ᯓ★ Who’s scared of a little blood? Certainly not these ghostfaces.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, canon divergence, ghostface!reader, violence, murder, very long intro whoops, groping (consensual), a lot of blood, unsanitary sex, sexual acts with blood, licking at wounds, they are not as concerned about their wounds as they should be, unrealistic wounds, dirty talk, wound fingering (I WARNED YOU), vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, blood as lube, unsafe sex, blowjob, deepthroating, cum swallowing, spitroasting, billy x stu action, you go to paris wink wink, creampie
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
“Fuck you both!”
The door slams shut, the faint sound of Randy shouting and banging on it muffled, and you take that as your cue to boast your acting chops until the final confrontation.
“Sid?” You run your hands over your temple, the fake blood staining your fingertips. “The fuck happened?”
She cries out your name, running over to you and kneeling as you wince. “You’re alive!”
You let your eyes flutter open, just enough to meet hers. They were wide with shock and bloodshot from her tears. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. It’s the same one she gave Billy when she thought he was dead. And just like that, the power shifts. You fight back a smirk, knowing you have her in the palm of your hand.
“I—I thought they got you,” Sidney whispers, hand brushing over your fake wound with shaking fingers. She’s too amped up to notice there’s no actual cut present. “There was so much blood…”
You lean into her touch, giving her a weak, trembling smile. “I don’t know what happened. He just…came out of nowhere. I tried to fight back. Didn’t do much good.”
She swallows hard. Her eyes dart back to the door where Randy is still banging. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
You nod, wincing dramatically as you push yourself up. Every move is calculated, every flinch carefully rehearsed. You let her help you to your feet. She’s too distracted, too emotional to notice the knife tucked just under your shirt, itching to spill some blood.
Sidney grabs your hand, guiding you toward the kitchen. “Come on, we have to get out of here.” She brandishes her gun, and your eyes narrow. “We might have a chance.”
Before you can get any further, a loud thunk sounds from the top of the staircase.
Sidney gasps. “Billy!”
Billy is hunched over the railing, clutching his fake wound as he stumbles down the stairs, Sidney abandoning your side to rush over to him.
“I thought—”
“I’m fine.” He brushes her off with a pat on the shoulder. “Gotta get help.”
You chuckle weakly. “Knew you couldn’t be put down that easily.”
As he passes, heading towards the door, you share a silent smirk and a dark glint of excitement lights in his eyes.
Randy is still banging on the door, shouting to be let in.
“Wait!” Sidney stops Billy with a hand on his chest. “It’s not safe.”
Billy pauses for a moment. “It’s okay. Give me the gun.”
Sidney hesitates, her hand clenching tighter around the gun as her eyes dart down to the weapon and back up to Billy.
“Do it, Sid,” you coax, rubbing your hand on her arm. “You trust him, right?”
Sidney swallows hard, then nods, shaky hand outstretched with the gun. Billy snatches it and opens the door, met with Randy who has shock plastered all over his face.
He rushes in, grabbing Billy by the shirt. “Dude, you gotta help me. Stu’s gone mad.”
Billy pauses. His eyes light up with a vicious gleam, and you know it’s finally time for the big reveal.
“We all go a little mad sometimes.”
He points the gun at Randy’s head and fires.
Randy falls to the floor with a thud as Billy laughs. “Anthony Perkins. Psycho.”
Sidney looks absolutely shell shocked, hands quivering as she frantically surveys the scene, looking for an escape.
You continue playing your part. “Sid, the kitchen!” She tugs you through the house, but you’re both stopped as you run into Stu’s chest. He grabs you out of Sidney’s hands and pulls you to his chest, smirking into your neck.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His hands wander your body shamelessly as Sidney stares in shock, her eyes flicking between the two guys as she finally puts the pieces together.
You gasp as Stu squeezes your breast and you try your hardest not to lean into his touch—the touch that you desperately missed when you all were planning out this murdering spree.
Sidney narrows her eyes. “Let her go, you fucking asshole!”
Billy comes in behind Sidney, flaunting the gun as he blocks the entryway. The plan was in motion. She had nowhere to go.
“Sid…” you start, keeping your voice low and hesitant. But seeing her terrified face has you blowing your cover. You giggle, a smile forming across your lips. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
You reach your hands back and fiddle with Stu’s pockets to the voice changer.
Sidney looks at you, confused and cautious. “What are you doing?”
You raise the compact phone to your lips, clicking the button to activate it. “Dropping the act.”
She stares at you, her face slowly twisting from confusion to horror. “No…”
You take a step closer. “Yeah.”
Billy’s laugh echoes throughout the room as Stu’s grin widens.
Sidney backs up toward the island, trying to put some distance between herself and the three of you, to no avail. Her eyes dart around the kitchen. “Why? Why would you—?”
“Why?” You tilt your head. “Because watching you run around like a clueless final girl has been hilarious. But mostly?” You shrug. “Because I wanted in on the fun. And Billy and Stu…well, let’s just say we all realized we don’t mind sharing.”
Sidney's eyes widen as she stumbles back in disbelief, shaking her head. “You’re messing with me.”
You grin wider. Billy chuckles darkly, stepping closer to her.
“She’s not lying, Sid. Pretty good actress, huh? Almost had me fooled until I saw the complete joy on her face after getting all messy from Himbry’s blood.”
Stu bounces on his heels, unable to contain his excitement.
“Yeah, she’s awesome, Sid! I mean—plot twist, right? Two killers is something, but a third? And it’s a hot chick? Totally insane!”
You glance at him with an amused smirk. “Told you I’d be a fun addition.”
Billy eyes you with that intense, half-possessed stare of his. “You really sold the whole ‘concerned friend’ thing. Even had me wondering whose side you were on for a second. Real. Impressive.”
“Why, thank you. I’ve always wanted to be a scene-stealer.” You give a playful little bow.
Sidney looks between the three of you and her face drains of color, betrayal written in every line. “I trusted you,” she says to you, her voice cracking. “You were my friend.”
You shrug, almost sympathetically. “I know. That’s what made it so easy.”
“You’re psychos!” She sneers. She reaches behind her to grab a knife, unbeknownst to the three of you who are too occupied with your premature celebration.
Stu cackles, coming up behind you and resting his head atop yours. “Hear that, babe?” He lowers his head, licking your neck and stopping at your ear. “We're psychos!”
Billy leans against the doorframe, cocking his head and giving you a nod, one that tells you that he’s giving you the go-ahead. “You know how the story ends, Sid. Only this time, we made a few edits.”
“Fuck you!” Sidney lunges at you, taking you by surprise which allows her to slice at your arm that you held up in defense.
The blade cuts deep, a sharp, white-hot pain flaring up your arm. Blood blossoms instantly, warm and sticky, but adrenaline dulls most of the pain.
You scream with rage, lashing out with your own knife. The metal flashes in the light, catching her side, just enough to make her stumble back with a grunt.
“You fucking bitch! You’re dead, you hear me?” you snarl.
Stu steps in with a crazed laugh, still too high on the moment to register danger. “Whoa—Sid’s got claws! Let’s see what else she can do!” he grins, moving toward her—only to catch a wild elbow to the jaw that sends him reeling back into the kitchen island. He hits the marble edge with a sickening crack, groaning as he slides down, dazed and bleeding.
“Stu!” Billy’s voice cuts through the chaos, but you nor Sidney pay them any attention.
Instead Sidney charges you again, but this time you’re prepared. You sidestep, twisting your injured arm behind you and driving your knee into her stomach. She doubles over with a breathless wheeze but grabs your wrist as you try to bring the knife down, managing to slice a shallow cut at your stomach before you’re able to tear the knife out of her grasp and toss it across the room.
“You’re not gonna win this,” she hisses, coughing up some blood into your face.
Before you can answer, Billy is suddenly behind her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her backward. She screams, thrashing in his grip. He slams her into the wall, pinning her arms.
“Hold her!” you snap, limping toward them, every step slick with the blood that has trailed down your arm and onto the floor.
“Got her,” Billy grunts through clenched teeth, his face inches from hers. “Say goodnight, Sid.”
You stop just short of her, panting, injured arm holding at your stomach while the other grips the knife with a trembling hand. Blood drips from your fingers, making your grasp slippery. Sidney glares up at you, defiant even now.
“You could’ve just died quiet,” you mutter, eyes flicking down to the knife in your hand.
“Go to hell,” she spits.
You smile thinly. “Already there.” You raise the blade.
“Time to rewrite this ending.”
And bring it down.
The knife slices cleanly across her throat, blood spurting out and hitting you in the face. You laugh as Billy releases her and her body collapses below you in an unflattering heap, crimson blood pooling around her and staining your shoes.
“Holy fuck,” you hear him utter.
The next thing you know, Billy is kissing you.
His hand holds the back of your head with an iron grip, forcing you to remain in his embrace. He presses himself against you, and you feel the hardness of his cock rub against your stomach as his tongue enters your mouth. The unmistakable metallic taste of blood invades your senses and fuels you on, your hands tightly gripping his shirt. Blood from your wound stains the white material, soaking it further but you pay it little mind.
Billy pulls away, and you get a look at the blood that smears his face that was transferred from you. He swipes at some on your cheek with his thumb and sucks on it, all without breaking eye contact. You inhale deeply, the sight stirring up a fire in your gut.
“Yeah? You like all the blood?” Billy pulls you forward with your injured arm, holding it up as he watches the blood drip down it from your cut. Leaning forward, he licks at the dribbling liquid from elbow to forearm, catching most of the flowing blood. You bite back a moan as you keep your eyes trained on Billy, who licks at your skin like a dog who hasn’t drank in days.
“Get’s me all excited, too,” he murmurs against your skin.
Your fingers curl into his shirt as you pull him forward, capturing your lips with his again. Taking the lead this time, you push your tongue into his mouth, shoving more of the blood on your lips into his. He groans and hikes up one of your legs to rest around his waist, pushing you forward until your back hits the wall.
You kiss with vigor, breathing each other in with no care in the world, as if there isn’t a dead body right below your feet. Billy’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling your lower half closer to him so that his clothed cock can grind against your own arousal. His fingers brush against your sliced side, and you inhale sharply, the touch sending shockwaves through your system.
“Touch it,” you moan against his lips between kisses. “My stomach.” Your body is on fire, arousal burning brightly and coursing through your veins.
Billy laughs sharply, and his grin widens as you mewl and arch into him when his fingers ghost over your wound again.
“Dirty girl,” he whispers in his ear. “Knew you’d be perfect for this.”
His lips drop to your neck, where he begins to kiss and suck at the skin, no doubt leaving hickeys in his wake. His fingers begin to poke and prod at the wound, as if testing your reactions before fully committing. You gasp and melt into him, your hips bucking into his hardened member the more he plays with the injured skin.
You yelp and clutch onto him as his fingers finally penetrate the wound. He pistons them carefully, feeling around with purpose, acting as if he were fingering your pussy. You hear the squelching of the blood and instead of grossing you out, it only turns you on more.
Stu groans from behind Billy, finally coming to. “You doing freaky shit without me?” You crane your neck around as he begins to pull himself up using the kitchen island for stability. He rubs at the back of his head and you notice the blood on his palm as he does so. There’s blood dripping down his face and neck, coming from his nose, most likely broken from Sidney’s elbow earlier.
He blinks seeing you two across the room, looking seconds away from stripping all your clothes off and fucking.
Hearing his voice, Billy shifts to turn towards Stu, and the movement exposes the way his fingers are sunken into your stomach wound.
Stu’s jaw drops just a little in awe at the sight. “Oh hell yeah.”
Stu comes up behind Billy grabbing on his waist and watching the steady flow of blood pool out of you as Billy’s fingers. By the way his hands tighten around Bill’s waist, you’re almost positive that he’s already hard and making it Billy’s problem. The thought has you giggling to yourself.
“Aw man,” Stu pouts, watching you and Billy grind against each other. Billy’s fingers are still occupied with your stomach. “I’m feeling a little left out here. I wanna finger her too.”
Billy rolls his eyes. “You can finger her pussy, dude,” he says without skipping a beat.
“Oh.” Stu giggles. “Right.”
He kneels down and pulls your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. A soft squeak escapes from you as the cool air hits you unexpectedly, and your walls flutter as Stu’s fingers trail over your pussy.
“You’re so wet.” He begins to tease your entrance, his long fingers brushing along it before retreating. You whine at the loss, both him and Billy smirking. You soak his fingers when he finally pushes them back inside of you, curling up and hitting spots that have you mewling.
“Fuck,” you moan, your voice pitching higher and your breath coming out in hitched inhales. Billy smirks, aware of that being your tell when you’re about to cum.
“Shit, Stu.” Billy carries on with fingering your wound, his cock jumping at each gasp when they hit a new spot. “Pull my pants down, man.”
You whine when Stu’s fingers leave you, preventing your orgasm with it. He hastily undoes Billy’s jeans, pulling them down alongside his underwear. His cock springs free, the throbbing tip hitting your stomach.
“All nice and ready for you,” Stu says. His fingers spread open your pussy lips and your walls flutter as if begging to be filled.
“Fuck yeah,” Billy grunts. His bloodied fingers leave your wound and wrap around his cock, lubing himself up with your blood. Your chest heaves with need at the sight, your body unconsciously arching into his touch.
He lines yourself up with your entrance, seconds away from entering you before Stu pushes him back with a hand.
“Wait, wait!”
Billy huffs and mutters out a quick what now as Stu bends over and licks along your slit, blood on his tongue from his nosebleed acting as an additional lubricant for your already aroused entrance. Your hand flies down to tug at his hair, holding him securely in place as his tongue fucks into you.
“There we go.” He pulls away, his face covered in your juices and smeared blood. “Let’s get you into position.”
His large hand sprawls across the back of your neck, and he grips you as he turns you around and bends you over, face to him and your ass out to Billy. You settle on your knees and you’re eye level with his boner that strains against the front of his jeans.
You glance up at him, seeing his maniacal grin widen and his cock jump as he stares down at you, a hungry gleam in his eye.
“Now she’s ready.”
Billy laughs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Thanks man.”
His hands tighten around your waist and you gasp as he spears his cock into you, the force of it shoving your face straight into Stu’s bulge.
“Shit,” Stu groans. His hand reaches for the nape of your neck, pushing you against him. He fumbles with his belt for a bit as he manhandles you, subtly grinding his bulge into your cheek, the rough denim scratching at your skin.
Your breath comes out in short huffs as Billy ruts into you, the blood allowing him to easily slide inside of your aching pussy. Your walls stretch around him, tightening around his member as he buries himself inside of you.
“Open wide,” Stu quips, giving you no time to prepare as he shoves his cock inside of your mouth.
You cough around his cock, tears welling in your eyes as he begins thrusting mercilessly. His head flies back with a groan. “Yeah, that’s the stuff.”
From behind you, Billy’s rhythm remains as sturdy as ever, each hard thrust shoving you further down onto Stu’s cock.
He palms a handful of your ass before piping up. “Seeing you fight like that—” his words are interrupted by grunts as he fucks deep into you. “Looking all hot while covered in blood, God, I wanted to take you right then.”
You let out a faint moan of appreciation, unable to do anything more as you gag on Stu’s cock shoved down your throat.
“Keep making her do that, dude,” Stu says, his voice laced with pleasure, “feels real good around me.”
Billy continues to ramble. “When you stabbed Himbry, almost came in my pants.” He chuckles, remembering the way you brazenly killed the man, not a single bone of remorse to be found, but rather newfound excitement and exhilaration exuding from your figure.
“Yeah,” Stu chuckles, chiming in. “I definitely creamed them when you gutted Steve.”
You roll your eyes and Stu’s hold on you finally loosens slightly as he talks, allowing you to let up for air. “Glad I could add to your spank bank.”
You’re pulled back onto Stu’s cock, gagging around the long member as he fills every crevice of your mouth. “Babe, you are the spank bank.”
Billy huffs in amusement, his hands tightening around you as he shifts to get a better angle, pushing your stomach down and arching your ass up more. The new angle has him fucking you even deeper than before, and you moan around Stu.
“Stu, man, you’re dripping all over her.” You don’t even realize what Billy means until you feel another drop of blood land in your scalp, courtesy of Stu’s nosebleed.
“Oh shit.” Stu apologizes, but the mirth in his tone tells you that he’s anything but.
“No, don’t need to do that.” Billy responds, acting as if the apology was meant for him instead of you. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s hot.”
Both guys thrust into you harder, spurned on by their brief conversation.
“Come here,” Billy says, and you feel the both of them leaning in over you.
Suddenly you hear the wet, sloppy sounds of Billy and Stu making out above you, a new wave of heat surging through your body as your pussy clenches at the sound. You wish you could see them, but each of them has an iron grip on you, preventing you from moving an inch.
As they each groan into the kiss, you feel Stu’s cock throb harshly in your mouth. You breathe in deeply through your nose, allowing yourself some semblance of air before deep throating his cock, trying your best to ignore your gag reflex.
Stu’s hips jerk irregularly, and the next thing you know you’re practically choking on his cum as he releases into you without warning, thick spurts entering your mouth. You swallow it in small amounts, but the taste of it continues to linger.
When they finally part, Stu giggles. “You taste like blood, man.”
“Nah,” Billy replies, “that’s from you.”
Your pussy squeezes tighter around Billy, enough so that he notices it this time. “I think she liked that too,” he points out, tone dripping with an air of smugness.
“Oh really?” Stu teases. His hands bury themselves into your scalp, pulling you off his cock and hoisting you up off the ground. Your frontside is practically soaked in the blood from the carnage around you, put you pay it little mind.
“Want a taste?” Stu asks, grinning widely, his teeth stained red from the blood.
You nod immediately, whimpers caught in your throat as Billy ruts into you from behind.
“Damn.” Billy winces in mock sympathy. “Doesn’t seem like she really wants it that much. Sorry, man.”
“Please!” You finally cry out. “I want to taste it.”
“There we go!” Billy shouts, slapping your ass as you gasp. “Kiss her, Stu.”
Stu obeys, tugging you towards him and slamming his lips against yours. The smell is familiar from when Billy kisses you earlier, but the heat of his kiss is different than the one with Stu’s. Stu is playful with it, his tongue flicking out to tease rather than to prove a point. He slides it into your mouth, probing the bloody appendage all around. You suck on it, relishing in the metallic taste of the blood. It invades all your senses, bringing you a type of pleasure you never really knew existed until this very moment.
As you and Stu battle with your tongues, blood and cum being passed between each other, you feel as Billy’s hand begins to coil around your front, leading all the way up to your stomach. A rush of heat floods your system as you bring one of your hands over it, almost as if to lead him to exactly where you want it to end up.
His fingers delicately trace the sliced skin of your open wound, so gently it almost feels as though he’s mocking you. Your hand hovers over his, following the movement so closely as if you were doing it yourself.
When his fingers finally enter it, you feel as though you’ve entered heaven, and you never want to leave. Practically all of your orifices are filled, each experiencing a different kind of pleasure that you’ve never had before.
With only a couple more thrusts your long awaited orgasm finally hits you, sending you over the edge with a shattered moan into Stu’s mouth. Your hands tangle themselves into Stu’s messy, blood-soaked hair and your body goes weak as you feel your juices rush out of you, soaking Billy’s cock.
Your legs go limp as you continue to cum, both men holding you up as they continue their ministrations.
Reaching down to tug on Stu’s cock, having already hardened again after his first orgasm, you feel yourself clench weakly around Billy’s member that continues rutting into you. Both actions are enough to make them each cum, a startled gasp leaving you as they fill you up with their releases.
Billy fucks you through his orgasm, the loud squelching courtesy of the blood and cum mixture filling the room.
When he finally lets go of you, fingers removing themselves from your wound and hands unlatching from their death grip on your waist, you pant heavily as you pull away from the two of them. You collapse onto the ground, uncaring about the pools of blood that will no doubt stain your bottom. You’re already covered head to toe in blood, a mix of your own, Stu’s and Sidney’s—what’s a little more?
Sidney’s body lays unmoving, eyes unblinking and skin paler than it was minutes ago.
Stu collapses next to you, holding a hand up to his nose. “Man, it’s really starting to hurt now,” he whimpers, wincing with every touch.
You give him a feeble yet comforting pat to the knee, your other hand holding onto your wounded side. “Tell me about it,” you mutter to yourself.
Billy is quiet, drawing his pants back up and sucking some blood off of his fingers, surveying the bloodied scene before him. He hums thoughtfully, smiling to himself.
He kneels down on the other side of you. “Beautiful handiwork,” he muses in your ear. “We’ve got a true artist in our midst.”
You chuckle weakly, your voice rasping from its earlier intrusions. “What now?”
Billy gives you a smirk that’s all wrapped up in confidence and amusement.
feat. Laura Kearney & Max Brinly
ᯓ★ Your senses are always at their most heightened right before a werewolf transformation.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, poly relationship, alpha!laura, laura has both parts if you catch my drift, beta!max, omega!reader, outdoor sex, fingering, voyeurism, instructions during sex, biting, praising, handjob, blowjob, cum eating, unsafe sex, alpha and omega used to refer to laura and reader respectively, ooc because they are not aggressive whoops, knotting, belly bulge, creampie
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
“Shit,” Laura’s growls echo in the forest as her fingers piston in and out of you. “You’re so fucking wet.”
You’re splayed out on the forest ground, twigs scratching at your back and dirt smearing across your body as you feverishly grind up into her touch.
With the full moon’s appearance only minutes away, all three of you are on the cusp of your transformations. And the best part about it was how heightened all of your senses got. A simple touch of Laura’s fingers had you completely soaked, and was almost enough to make you cum. You feel as though you're just about to before Max interrupts.
“Can I fuck her now?”
Laura abruptly pulls away from you and you whine at the loss. Max kneels next to you, fisting his cock furiously as he watches Laura ready you. With his enhanced vision, he can see the way your pussy clenches around nothing, practically begging to be filled.
He looks up at Laura, waiting for her approval. “Please?”
Laura hums before nodding. “I suppose I can let you prep her for me.” Her tone is harsh, but there’s a faint smirk on her lips that is always present when she’s teasing Max.
He groans. “You don’t have to put it like that!”
“Max,” you call out to him, stopping him before he can get distracted. “Come here.”
He pounces on you without another thought.
Max always fucks enthusiastically, like he has to prove himself every time he does so. You don’t mind it much, especially not when you’re the one being pounded into oblivion.
“Fuck!” You cry out, your newly sharpened nails digging into his back and drawing blood. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t relent. Instead, it seems to spur him on even more. His thrusts are frenzied as his hips collide into you, and you arch yourself into his touch.
His hands travel your body, opting to steady at the flesh of your thighs, gripping the skin tightly as he pushes your legs up to get a better angle. His cock twitches inside of you, and you can’t help but shudder, your pussy fluttering around his member.
Yet there’s still something missing. Max’s thrusts feel good, but you know it’s not enough to make you come. Your hand slowly moves down your body, making its way to your aching clit.
“No.”
Laura’s command has you halting in your movements. Your hand falling to your side and digging itself into the ground below you. “No touching unless I say.”
A whine catches in the back of your throat, desperate for some more relief but you know to never disobey your alpha. Ever the perceptive one, Laura still notices it.
“Max!” She calls. His head snaps over to her without breaking from his thrusts. “Need a little help with her?”
He looks back down at you, noticing your frustration. A blush appears on his cheeks. “I—I guess.”
Laura saunters over, kneeling behind Max. She grabs his hips, slowly pulling him out of you despite both of your cries of protest.
“Stop being so frantic,” she scolds him. “Pay attention.”
She grabs his cock and pushes him back inside of you, but Max doesn’t move, waiting for Laura’s instructions. She places one hand on his glute and another on his hip, slowly pushing him back inside of you, guiding his thrusts. You both groan, your walls sucking him in as he enters you.
“Feel her. Let that help you.” Max listens, nodding his head rapidly. He keeps his thrusts slower but pushes deeper into you each time. He feels the way that you clench around him as you do so, how the slow thrusts out has your pussy anticipating his return even more.
Laura removes her hands, letting Max do the work now. “How does that feel?” she asks, directing her question at you.
“So good,” you moan, tears welling up in your eyes. “Need to cum, alpha.”
“Not yet.”
You let out a whimper, but it catches in your throat as Max’s cock hits you particularly deep. YOu latch onto him, wrapping your legs around him and keeping him close. Max elects to rock into you, unable to pull out of you with the strength of your hold keeping him close.
“Shit, shit,” he growls under his breath. His arms tremble and his eyes glow brighter, and you know he’s about to cum.
He bites your neck as his release hits, a strained yelp leaving you. It’s deep enough to leave a mark—but not a permanent one like an alpha’s. Max’s bite rather works to both soothe you and keep you needy for your alpha.
Your legs weaken around him and he finally pulls away from you, cock still half hard and leaking. He pants, leaning up against a nearby tree.
Max fucked you good, but it still wasn’t enough. Frustrated, you glance up at Laura. You shift on the ground and spread your legs out further, showcasing Max’s cum leaking out of you—presenting yourself to her.
“Need my alpha,” you whine. “Please.”
Laura chuckles. “Course you do.”
She positions herself over you, and swipes at your wet pussy mixed with Max’s cum, using it to lube herself up.
You bite your lip, waiting patiently as your legs spread open even wider.
She smirks. “Such a good omega for me.”
“Please, alpha,” you mewl, hoping to impel her quicker.
When her cock finally enters you, you cry out in relief, your walls shaping themselves around her to let her inside, hitting all the parts that make you go crazy. Your limbs wrap around her as she begins to thrust, not wanting her to leave.
“Alpha!” you shout, your voice coming out in broken gasps as she fucks you into the ground. “I love it!”
“There we go,” she coos, caressing your face.
Laura knows exactly how to work your body. She thrusts into you at the perfect speed, kisses and nips you at all your most erogenous places. Her yellow eyes shine above you, and you think that the full moon coming is making her even more perceptive to you—to every sound you make, every reaction to your touch, and that gets you even more riled up.
“Alpha! Alpha!” your voice gets higher and higher with every thrust, louder than it was before.
“Max,” she snaps, and he scrambles to his feet, waiting for her command. “Shut her up.”
Max kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and swallowing your cries. One of your arms reaches back towards him to pull him closer while the other remains around Laura’s back.
You’re in complete bliss, having your alpha fuck into you while your beta remains by your side.
“Fuck,” Laura grunts, her voice changing into a snarl—a sure sign that it’s almost time. “Ready for my knot?”
You break from the kiss to respond. “Yes! Please! Need it, alpha!” You buck your hips into her, your walls unclenching instinctually to allow for the room of your alpha’s knot.
With a final hard thrust, Laura pulls your body to her, keeping you in place. You feel the swell of the knot as it first enters you, only a slight bulge as it passes. But then it grows as it moves deeper inside of you, sealing the connection between yourself and your alpha.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan, and you glance down at the bulge in your stomach that slowly grows. “So full.”
Your eyes roll back in pleasure. Max holds you steady as your body goes limp, his cock pulsating against your backside as he watches the bulge grow bigger inside of you.
Laura bites your neck, a reminder of her commitment to you, and rubs your stomach, her hand providing a comforting warmth. “So good for me. My perfect omega.”
You whimper in appreciation.
The knot keeps you and Laura connected, and she uses this time to lay wet kisses on your bite and across your stomach and chest. You muss up her hair, her ponytail looser than she typically wears it.
“Alpha.”
Laura turns to you, a question in her gaze. “Our beta needs some help again.” You giggle under your breath, mind still hazy as Max’s cock twitches against you.
“Oh,” he speaks from behind you, surprised you brought it up. “It’s—it’s okay for now.”
Laura ignores him. “Come here.” Max shifts your body so that you rest on his thigh, his cock now exposed.
Her hand begins to stroke him with solid yet meaningful tugs. You turn your head so that your face is practically shoved into his cock, and you begin to leave small licks along the base of his cock and on his balls.
“Please…” His eyes scrunch and he bites his lip. “Please keep doing that.” His hips jerk as both you and Laura pleasure him.
He cums quicker than usual with both your mouth and Laura’s hand on him, his release exiting in long, heavy spurts. Most of it gets on Laura’s hand while the remainder falls onto the ground. Laura stretches her cum-covered hand out to you and without a word, you go to lick it clean, swallowing every drop of Max’s cum off of it.
By the time you finish, the knot inside of you begins to deflate. You whimper at the loss of the fullness, but the warmth of your alpha and beta’s cum inside of you keeps you happy and satiated as the three of you recover from the mating.
Above you, the first rays of moonlight begin to slip through the trees, and you feel the transformation begin.
It’s the middle of the night, and your heartbeat is hammering in your ears, your pulse moving faster than your thoughts could catch up. One hand clutches your phone, the other is banging rapid-fire on the apartment door in front of you.
He opens the door in less than ten seconds.
Aemond stands in front of you, dressed in a black hoodie and dark sweatpants like he’d been up already—like he knew you were coming.
His long hair is pulled back in a low bun, and his eye blinks at you, calmly. Before he can say a word, you shove your phone in his face.
“Did you know about this?”
The video begins playing automatically, the one someone had sent you just minutes ago with no context other than the curt message sent alongside it: Watch.
It was filmed at some typical frat house party—bad lighting, beer pong, some idiot yelling about a keg stand in the background. But then the camera zooms in, and suddenly it focuses on Aegon—your boyfriend—pressed up against a wall, devouring the mouth of a girl who was definitely not you. Her hands were in his hair and his were on her waist, clearly having been making out for quite some time.
Aemond’s lip curl. He doesn’t look one bit surprised at the contents of the video.
“I hope you’re not pissed at me.” He steps back, motioning you inside. “This is the first time I’m seeing this.”
You stomp past him. “Well, congratulations. That makes one of us.”
Aemond shuts the door behind you. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to vent before I hit you with an ‘I told you so.’”
You whirl around. “Not funny.”
“What’s not funny is you still staying with him after the first two times he cheated on you.”
“That’s low.” You cross your arms.
“It’s honest.”
You scowled. “You always do this. Act like you’re better than him just because you read depressing Russian novels and listen to music nobody’s ever heard of.”
“I am better than him,” Aemond replies smoothly. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
You’re quiet as his words hit you. You’re more embarrassed than you want to admit at allowing yourself to look like a fool over and over again. “I thought he could change.”
“He’s a Targaryen. We don’t just change.”
You flop onto his couch with a groan. Aemond sits across from you, his eyes never leaving your face as if waiting to calculate your next move. Your phone is still playing the video, each loop of it adding to your rage and helping you concoct your next plan of action. “I’m done with him. Officially.”
He raises a brow. “Really?”
“Yes.” You sit up, emboldened. “I want revenge.”
Aemond’s mouth twitches. “Good,” he says. “I’m in. What do you want it to do? Make him jealous? Make him regret his life choices? Public humiliation?”
You turn to him. “That easy? Even though he’s your brother?”
He scoffs. “He’s also an asshole. Wouldn’t mind seeing him get a taste of his own medicine. “
“A taste of his own medicine…” You mull over his words. Aegon was always the one going out, flirting and hooking up with other girls, leaving you humiliated. You needed to humiliate him in the same exact way—but you can go even lower than that.
Especially with his brother right across from you, whose eyes haven’t left you.
“Aemond…” you start, your voice low, seductive. You pull yourself up from the couch and saunter to him. He watches you as if you were a piece of moving artwork. “I have an idea that might make him really mad.”
You seat yourself in his lap and his hand comes up to wrap around your waist.
His lip quirks up. “It’s about time you realized who the better brother was.”
You roll your eyes. “Have you been waiting for me to get cheated on a third time so you could say this?”
He shrugged, unapologetic. “No. I was hoping it’d only take two.”
You laugh, amused, and he leans closer, the movement so small you could call it incidental, but the air between you tightens. His face is inches from yours, his eye dropping down to your lips and back up to your face in a second, but you still catch the action.
You lower your voice when you speak again. “How mad would Aegon be if I fucked you right here?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Really fucking mad.”
“Good,” you reply, and then you’re leaning in to kiss him.
Your lips meet his with deliberate force, close-mouthed at first. His lips are surprisingly soft, and he slides his hand from your waist to your lower back, anchoring you.
Aemond tilts his head, deepening the kiss in a way that feels like a challenge. You melt into it, your anger and embarrassment from being constantly cheated on being blunted by the surge of heat from being wanted.
Unnoticed by you, Aemond’s hand moves with practiced ease, his fingers gliding into the seam of his hoodie pocket, thumb brushing the edge of his phone. In one subtle movement, the screen lights up, the camera opens, and the red record button begins to glow.
You don’t notice. Not at first.
You’re too caught up in him, in his mouth on yours, slow and coaxing, his thumb brushing the back of your neck in a way that feels surprisingly tender. You’re not thinking right now, you’re reacting. Letting your frustration and betrayal pour out through every kiss, every touch.
Then his lips drag down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him better access, and that’s when you see it.
Balanced on the armrest of the couch lies Aemond’s phone, angled perfectly towards you both. Recording.
You jerk back slightly, fisting a hand in his hoodie and pushing at his chest. “Aemond. What the hell?”
He doesn’t move much, just lifts his head, his gaze calm.
Your voice comes sharper now. “Are you recording us right now?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
Your eyes widen. “Seriously? Without telling me?” You lean over and tap the circle button, ending the recording.
“I was going to,” he replies, like this is a normal conversation. “Just…” his lips return to your neck. “After.”
You gape at him, but he’s completely unbothered, no panic or guilt found in him. There’s just calm, unreadable Aemond with his hair messed up and his hands still loosely on your waist as he nips at your throat.
“You can’t just do that,” you snap. “That’s—”
“Exactly what Aegon deserves,” he interrupts, voice low.
You freeze. Aemond’s gaze is steady and calculating.
“You came here because you wanted revenge. Something he’d never forget. Something that would ruin him the way he ruined you.”
You don’t answer.
“You said you were done playing nice.” His voice softens, but there’s still an edge to it. “So let’s stop playing.”
You glance back at the phone, angled towards you.
“We’ll send it to him,” Aemond says quietly. “And he’s going to watch every single second of it.”
You swallow.
“He doesn’t care about a fight,” Aemond adds. “He doesn’t care about guilt or lectures or ultimatums. But this?” He gestures between you, eyes burning into yours. “He cares about his ego. He’ll care about this.”
You’re silent for a long moment as you ponder his words.
You think of Aegon. The video someone sent you tonight. The girl in his arms. The way it hurt—again—like you were stupid for believing this time would be different.
Your eyes meet Aemond’s.
There’s something dangerous behind his gaze. A quiet hunger that’s not just for you, but for revenge, too.
He waits for what you’ll say, unmoving.
But you don’t respond in words. Instead, you pull your sweater over your head and unclip your bra in one fell swoop.
For the first time that night, you catch a glint of surprise in Aemond’s face. His breath hitches as his gaze travels down to your bare breasts, nipples harden from exposure to the cool air.
His cock twitches underneath you and you smirk, grinding on his lap.
“I’ll start recording when I want to,” you murmur.
Aemond nods once. “Deal.”
“I’ll stop recording when I feel like it.”
“Okay.”
“And as soon as the video’s sent, you delete all traces of it.”
There’s a pause. “Of course.”
You study him a second longer, and then reach down his sweatpants, palming at his erection, your other hand moving back to his hair. He captures your lips, kissing you even deeper than before. The two of you grind against each other, moaning as your clothed pussy hits against his member that strains against its confines.
“Fuck,” Aemond groans under his breath as you begin to pull down his bottoms. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach. The tip is angry and red, and you begin to tease it with small strokes that has Aemond bucking into your touch. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” you say plainly.
Aemond stills briefly, expression darkening before he starts shoving down your shorts, your panties coming off with it. His hand finds your bare pussy and you gasp as he starts rubbing on your clit.
He takes that opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, dominating the kiss as you both get each other off. Your nails dig into his shoulder with one hand, the other still jerking him off, squeezing him as your hand moves up and down, getting slick with his precum.
Aemond is the one to finally break away, panting as saliva still connects you two. “Need to be inside you.”
You nod jerkily, hips still grinding into his hand. He begins to line his cock up with your hole, the head teasing your lips, before you snap back to reality.
“Shit,” you hiss, realizing that you came over with just your phone, wallet, and keys, your purse and its other contents left strewn over your counter back at your apartment. “You have a condom?”
Aemond pauses for a moment. You think he’s about to tell you no until he speaks up.
“Ever let Aegon in raw?”
You blink in surprise, pulling back a little to look at him.
“...No.” You respond hesitantly. Despite him begging you constantly, that was the one thing that you refused to compromise on. “I’m not that stupid.”
Aemond hums against your skin, sounding almost approvingly. “You should let me do it.”
“Yeah right,” you reply, rolling your eyes.
He doesn’t seem rattled by your comment. Instead, he responds quickly, as if he was expecting it.
“Just think about how mad it would make him.” His hands come up to knead your breasts, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as his thumbs ghost over your nipples.
You let his words sink in. He was right, of course; it would make Aegon mad.
Aemond interrupts your thoughts as he nibbles on your throat. “Imagine his face,” he starts between his kissing and sucking, slowly moving up to your ear, “seeing you bouncing on my cock, so easily able to get the one thing you’ve withheld from him all this time.”
A shiver runs down your spine, and you don’t need any more convincing. “Yeah. Okay. Yes,” you breathe, distracted by his touch.
“There we go,” he murmurs, and without wasting another second Aemond pushes himself inside of you.
“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes and basking in the way the ruts up into you, hands anchoring onto him. Your ass slaps against him with the force of his thrusts, and his hands lower to squeeze the flesh.
“Yeah,” you hear Aemond mumble under his breath. His grip on your ass tightens. “Knew you’d be perfect.”
You clench around him, opening your eyes again and suddenly being pulled back as you spot Aemond’s phone sitting on the couch arm.
“Wait, wait,” you mutter between gasps, leaning over and fumbling for the device.
Aemond doesn’t stop thrusting as you fumble to open the camera; rather, it just seems to excite him, pawing at the rippling flesh of your ass and leaning back as he watches, entranced, at the way your pussy swallows up his cock with every thrust.
Switching the camera to the video setting, you start the recording.
The video starts with your face. You smirk directly into the lens, confidence burning bright.
“Hey, Aegon,” you say sweetly, tilting your head. “Hope that girl from the party was worth it.”
You pan the camera over slightly while you shift in Aemond’s lap, bouncing up and down on his cock as his hands settle at your hips like it’s second nature. You lean in closer to Aemond, lips a breath apart.
“Because your brother?” you add, voice smooth, “kisses way better.”
Then you kiss him again, sloppier this time, with more than enough heat to make your point. Aemond leans into it, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist possessively as he rocks you back and forth onto his cock. You moan into the kiss as he bullies his tongue into your mouth, your mind practically going blank with pleasure. He kisses you like he’s been dying to for years, and you let him, playing up your moans for the video.
Just before you pull back, you smile into the kiss, letting it linger. Then, with a satisfied sigh, you face the camera again, hair a little mussed, and lips swollen and red.
“Oh,” you say innocently, biting your lip. “His cock is also way bigger than yours.”
You gasp sharply as Aemond jerks up onto you, fingers digging into your skin as he controls the way your hips fuck into him.
You shakily adjust the angle of the camera downwards so that the screen shows where you’re connected, the unmistakable image of you riding Aemond front and center.
“Fuck!” you cry as Aemond pistons himself deeper into you, his cock hitting places never touched before. Your walls close around him, as if molding themselves to the shape of his cock.
You lean forward into Aemond as he furiously ruts into you, seeming to move faster and more aggressively with every thrust, spurred on by the recording. Your eyes roll back and you aren’t sure if the video is even in focus anymore.
“And you know what?” you continue, breathing ragged. “I’m gonna let him cum inside of my pussy, just like you’ve been begging to for years.”
You squeak as Aemond bites your shoulder, his cock twitching inside of you as he takes in your words.
You giggle maniacally, drunk off of the teasing. “I didn’t need much convincing once I saw his cock.”
Aemond grunts beneath you and you gasp as warmth fills you, his semen releasing in thick spurts inside of you, the excess seeping out of you as Aemond pulls out before thrusting back in. His long fingers snake down to play with your clit, rubbing it furiously as your walls contract around him rapidly.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly as you see stars behind your eyelids, body jolting as your peak hits and your juices flow out of you, soaking both Aemond’s and your thighs.
Your mind drifts away from the recording, but before either of you can end it Aemond smirks, finally speaking up—the first time since you began filming.
“Thank you, Aegon. You’ve helped me more than you could know.”
You’re still reeling, coming down from the high of your orgasm, too dazed to process Aemond’s words before he stops the video.
His hand rubs against your back soothingly as you try to steady your breathing, and with his other hand he deftly sends the video to Aegon and then stores it in a backup folder, quickly locking his phone and tossing it across the couch cushions.
“You sent it?” you ask, face buried in his neck.
“Yes.”
“Deleted it?”
His hand almost falters, but he catches himself. “I promised you I would, didn’t I?”
You hum approvingly, leaning into his touch.
There’s a pleasant silence as Aemond holds you before your voice breaks it. “Thanks for being here, Aemond. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”
"Of course," he says softly. “I’m always here for you.”
You smile up at him and plant a kiss onto his jaw, tired but trusting.
As you cuddle into him he leans back into the couch, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen as he observes your naked reflection in its darkness. A reflection of everything he’s claimed.
Your revenge was raw, emotional, in the heat of the moment.
But Aemond’s? His was quiet. Methodical. Thought out, every step planned.
It was easy for him, sneaking into that frat party, slipping a drunk freshman a crisp 20 dollar bill to seduce Aegon, filming and sending it to you through a burner phone. You fell right into his trap, and he couldn’t be any more satisfied.
feat. Jacaerys Velaryon
ᯓ★ Stuck in a dull marriage with a man decades older than you, your childhood friend convinces you why he should have been your betrothed.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, non-canon timeline (no dance of the dragons and rhaenyra is queen), cheating, reader is married, jace is not engaged, mention of male infertility, YEARNING, protective!jace, possessive!jace, cuckolding but the husband doesn't watch, lots of build up, banter, biting, breast playing/sucking, cunnilingus, begging, dirty talk, unsafe sex, breeding kink, belly bulge, creampie, squirting, mild cum play, cum eating, love confessions
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
Music and laughter swell in sync as the crowd of dressed up lords and ladies glide across the floor, twirling with bright smiles and reddened cheeks courtesy of wine and ale. You linger at the edge of it all, lost in thought. Your soft smile is practiced, the kind a lady learns to wear when she cannot bring herself to join in.
Around you, the world dances. You simply watch.
“Still hiding along the walls, I see.”
The familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts. You turn.
Jacaerys Velaryon stands proudly before you. He’s taller than he was the last time you saw him, broader in the shoulders, looking regal in house Targaryen’s signature deep red and black. He’s no longer the boy who chased you through the halls and played pretend with you in the courtyard, but his eyes are the same. Dark and earnest, always looking at you like he knows something no one else does.
“Still finding me wherever I hide,” you mutter, your smile dropping into a more genuine one.
His grin widens. “Some things never change.”
While you gaze longingly at the crowd, wishing like you could feel like you belonged with them, Jace studies your face like he’s memorizing every curve of it.
“Dance with me.”
He holds his hand out in front of you, but you hesitate to grab it. Instead, you turn to find your husband standing across the room. His goblet is tipped high, ale spilling into the silver of his beard. He’s deep in conversation with another lord, no doubt making some sort of political promise. You doubt he notices you’re gone.
Jace doesn’t follow your gaze. He doesn’t need to. He already knows what you’re searching for, what worries are on your mind.
He remains patient, his grin transitioning to a small smile, gentle and earnest. His eyes are reassuring, glimmering with youth. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his hand still extended. “He won’t notice.”
This isn’t the prince talking, the heir to the Iron Throne, but your friend who you grew up with, who you dreamed of exploring the world with, who once told you he’d never marry unless it was to someone who laughed like you did.
You take his hand.
The warmth of his palm comforts you, and he squeezes your hand gently—protectively, almost—as he weaves you through the crowd.
The music rises. Couples scurry to the floor, readying for another dance.
You and Jace move together seamlessly, able to easily read the other in the way only two people who grew up in rhythm can.
“I remember when we used to practice dancing in the courtyard,” Jace says quietly. “You’d step on my toes and blame me for it.”
“I remember you letting me,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips.
His face lights up, eyes never leaving your face. “I would’ve let you break all ten toes if it meant you’d keep laughing.”
The words hang heavy in the air between you.
You look down, biting your lip and lowering your voice. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I know,” he says, his fingers tightening in yours. “But I’ve spent years not saying things. And none of it made this any easier.”
You exhale shakily. “Jace…”
“You were supposed to marry someone who saw you,” he says, voice raw now, like it’s been caged for too long. “Someone who knew you. Who would cherish you. Not some drunken fool who your incompetent father promised your hand to when his status began to plummet. Not some lord twice your age who calls you “girl” like it’s your name.”
“Jace!” you hiss, your head swiveling around to ensure no one heard him.
He doesn’t waver. “I merely speak the truth.”
You sigh. “It couldn’t have been helped,” you whisper, soft enough only he can hear. “I should have been smarter to know that I had no choice in the matter.”
“When I take the throne…” he glances over to where his mother, the Queen, sits at the head of the room, looking as poised as she always does, chatting with her advisors. “I will fix it. I promise you.”
You shake your head. “Don’t make promises that may not be kept.”
Silence drapes around you and the music slows. Your bodies sway with it, and you lean closer into Jace without even meaning to. He welcomes you into his hold, one hand coiling around your backside.
The comfortability of his hold was dearly missed, something you longed for when you were stuck in the unfamiliar and cold confines of your new residence. But perhaps you got too comfortable in his arms, and in your weariness you let something slip you hadn’t meant to.
“There have been some…problems between us recently.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Has he hurt you?” His palm cups your cheek, eyes searching your face as if looking for an answer your words may not give him. “Say the word, and he will be dead before morrow.”
“No, no.” You shake your head furiously, removing his palm and taking it into your own. Your husband was more the type to ignore you when he was furious rather than come to violence—the only blessing in this arrangement that you had.
“We’ve spoken with maesters, and I’ve even snuck out in the night to talk with a healer. They don’t think he can give me children.”
Jace’s gaze sharpens, and his eyes flicker with something unfamiliar to you.
He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “Everyone is expecting an heir. A son. He was furious at first, believing me to be defective, but now I just…exist. Remain ignored. He doesn’t know what to do.”
His jaw tightens, and his hand shifts slightly on your back, moving lower and pulling you closer, so close if you just stretched up and leaned forward your lips would brush against his.
“What if I said I could help?” he asks, voice quiet and steady.
You blink. “Help?”
“If it’s an heir everyone wants, if it’s blood they care about—then let it be mine.” His eyes meet yours, and they’re burning now with devotion. “Let it be ours.”
Your breath catches.
“I would give you a child not because he can’t,” he says before you could protest, leaning in just enough that only you can hear. “But because I’ve wanted to love every piece of you since we were young. And I’ve run out of reasons not to.”
The song ends, but you don’t move. Neither does he.
His hand remains at the small of your back, your fingers still tangled in his as you stare into each other’s eyes.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he murmurs. “But I won’t take it back.”
You don’t ask him to.
Instead, you draw your hand away, slow and measured. Your gaze flickers toward a table where your husband now sits—rather, slouches in his chair, oblivious to the two of you.
“He doesn’t know how to see you,” Jace says, stepping in front of you, blocking your view of your husband. “He doesn’t even try.”
You don’t say anything. You’re too conflicted, unsure of what words will come out of your mouth if you open it.
“Come with me.” Jace lowers his head, and you gasp as his lips almost brush against your own as he whispers. “Please.”
Your gaze shifts. “It would be foolish of me to.”
His eyes lower to your lips. “Perhaps.”
“But sometimes I am a foolish woman.”
His thumb rubs against your cheek. “I know.”
Then someone crashes into your shoulder.
A laughing nobleman, half-drunk, half-spinning, staggers backward into you before muttering an apology and stumbling on.
Just like that, the moment shatters.
You step back from Jace abruptly, heat flooding your cheeks as reality comes rushing back in—the candles, the music, the people, your husband seated only a few paces away. The world has not stopped, and you have lingered in fantasy too long.
“I shouldn’t—” you start, your heart hammering in your chest as you begin to retreat further.
But Jace catches your wrist, pulling you back gently.
“No. Don’t do this,” he says. “Not now. I can’t have you leave again.”
“Jace—”
“Come with me,” he repeats. There’s no command in his voice, only a desperate plea. He doesn’t sound princely, merely vulnerable. Just like the boy from your childhood.
You take a deep breath and look around you. No one is watching you, all caught up in their own conversations. Your husband remains in his seat, having not spared a single glance your way.
You allow yourself to give Jace a small nod of your head. You hear his breath hitch as your fingers lace with his, hidden by folds of your billowing dress sleeve. He keeps his head lowered and his pace steady as he leads you out through the hall’s far side, past a heavy velvet curtain and into the quiet familiarity of a servant’s passage, devoid of any people to whisper and gossip about the two of you.
You can hear the sound of your heart pounding despite the music in the great hall carrying on and the chatter continuing behind you, the guests remaining oblivious to you sneaking away with their prince.
You recall the times you’ve scurried through these halls with him when you were children, hiding from the responsibilities that were soon to be placed upon you.
The corridor soon twists into a narrower passage, lined with old, unpolished stone. You pause once you're far enough from the hall, your voice soft as you whisper. “I remember this.”
Jace glances back, his eyes bright even in the dark. “I was hoping you would.”
He pulls you gently forward again, and you let him.
Finally, he stops before a wooden door, worn down from absence of care and tucked behind a shadowed alcove.
As he opens it, you spot a couple of flickering candles lighting up the room along with the small hearth already burning in the corner. The room is plain but warm, no doubt used as a spare chamber meant for temporary workers or maids. But it’s empty now, abandoned with all hands needed for the celebration you had just escaped from.
The door closes behind you with a soft click, and Jace turns to you. For a moment neither of you move. You’re unsure of what to do, what to say, how to act. You opt to fiddle with the seams of your dress, waiting for him to make the first move.
Jace watches you like he’s memorizing this moment, eyes full of awe, as though if he’d blink you would disappear from his sight.
Then he strides towards you, and you gasp as his hand reaches toward your cheek. He cups it gently, stroking your skin under this thumb.
“I’ve dreamt of this,” he admits suddenly. “Before the betrothal. Before they gave you away.”
You meet his eyes. “What did you dream of?”
The hand touching you trembles slightly, and he raises the other to brush against your waist, then your back, pulling you gently to him. “Of you choosing me. Even if it was just once.”
You breathe in. “And now that it’s real?”
“Now I’m terrified,” he says, a subtle quake in his voice.
You smile, just a little. “You hide it well.”
“I’ve always had to. Wanting you for so long, and never being allowed to show it…it’s made a liar out of me.”
You reach up and place your hand over his, a gesture of intimacy you’re not afraid to show in privacy. “You don’t have to lie now.”
And then he kisses you.
It’s soft at first, and your lips lock so perfectly it feels as though you’ve done it hundreds of times before. Jace’s hands frame your face with a light touch, as if he’s afraid you may pull away. But when you don’t, when your fingers curl into the fabric at his chest, he deepens it, all the heat and pent-up years pouring into the act, speaking for the unspoken words of your affection for each other.
You part, breathless, and Jace presses his forehead to yours for a moment.
When your lips meet again, there’s no hesitation this time. Jace kisses you like he’s starving, surging forward with so much force that your back hits the wall with a dull thud that neither of you acknowledge. You respond in kind, mouth open beneath his, your hands buried in his dark curls, pulling him closer to you.
“I want you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ve needed you so bad.”
His hands curl around your backside, fiddling with the closure of your dress. You gasp when the cool air hits your bare back, arching into Jace’s hold even more as your dress pools at your feet. You two move across the room hurriedly, still holding on to each other when your legs hit into the bed.
As you fall back onto the bed, the kiss turns messy. It’s hungry, and it’s desperate—a kind of desperation so unfamiliar to you that it has you whimpering, pulling back for air and for reason. But Jace follows you, his lips brushing yours again, chasing your touch as if he’ll die if he stops.
“This is wrong,” you breathe, the words practically muffled between kisses.
“I don’t care,” Jace groans, his voice ragged and frustrated with need. “Gods, I don’t care.”
He kisses you again, rougher now, and you don’t pull away. His teeth catch your bottom lip and you whimper, pulling him closer.
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” you whisper against him as he drags his lips down your throat.
“It was never supposed to be anything but us,” he rasps. “Your father stole that from us. I’m only taking it back.”
Your internal conflict, the push and pull between the anxiety of being caught and your carnal need for Jace, causes your heart to hammer in your chest. “My marriage, Jace—”
“Will be a problem no longer once I am king.” His lips move across the top of your breasts now, sucking into the delicate skin. “And he’s never touched you like this,” he hisses, taking a nipple into his mouth, your hands flying to tangle into his hair, “don’t lie to me.”
Your silence is answer enough.
“You will get your heir,” Jace affirms, pulling back to look at you in your naked glory. His hands slide across your waist and ghost over your stomach. “But it will be mine.”
Jace hurriedly sheds his layers and you unabashedly stare as he does so, propping yourself up on your elbows. You admire the chiseled curves of his body, no longer a boy but instead a man hardened by intense training.
When he sees you eyeing him, he smirks. “Staring, my lady? That’s rather improper of you.”
You scoff softly, but a smile tugs at your lips. “You brought me here, Jace. Don’t act so innocent now.”
As Jace sheds his final layer, matching your nudity, his cock stands proudly before you. You gulp, feeling the heat rising to your face. Your eyes drop briefly to his member, and Jace catches the motion.
“You’re still looking.”
You bite your lip. “How can I not?”
“I like it.” His hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you forward across the plush mattress. “I never want you to stop looking.”
Your lips part in surprise, but no sound comes.
He leans in again, leaving a trail of light kisses on your stomach and back up to your breasts.
“You have no idea what it’s taken to not touch you like this. Every time I would catch a glimpse of you, I wanted to take you away and never return.” He bites at your skin again, as if staking his claim on you with his mouth. “Every time I saw you with him, I wanted to break every rule there was just to have you.”
Your fingers run down his back, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath them.
“You have me now.”
The resolve in your voice almost shocks you at first, but as you stare into Jace’s wide gaze, eyes full of pure, unadulterated affection, you know now that you have never been more sure of anything in your life.
His mouth finally brushes yours.
“Then I’m never letting go.”
When he kisses you again, you finally allow yourself to submit to him completely, to submit to the irrevocable pull towards Jace that you’ve had since the moment you met him. There was no turning back now, and you relish in the fact that you no longer wish to. Marriages and politics be damned, all you wanted right now—all you needed—was him.
Jace pulls back, and you believe that he’s readying to enter you. You untense your legs and spread them but your brows furrow as you see him instead lower his head by your entrance.
“What are you…?” you trail off.
Jace gazes up at you through his lashes, as he begins to bite and suck at the skin of your inner thighs. “I want to taste you.”
Before you can respond, Jace bows his head again and licks at your already-wet slit.
“Oh,” you moan, the feeling of his rough tongue lapping at your entrance sends shockwaves down your spine, igniting even more arousal in your system. “Oh, Gods.”
Your fingers find their familiar place coiled around his curls, anchoring yourself to him as he delivers you unimaginable euphoria.
Jace watches your reactions carefully, the way surprise and pleasure plaster your features as you cling onto him for stability. “Has he ever feasted on you?”
You shake your head. “He was rather…simple.” You gasp as his tongue curls inside of you, hitting your walls in deeper spots than before. “I have never known of this feeling before.”
He scoffs. “Pathetic.” He thumbs at your swollen clit and you jerk at the touch. “But I will take great pleasure in being the only one to ever do so.”
His tongue swirls inside of you, and the noises he makes while pleasuring you are downright erotic. He moans into your cunt, as if it were a meal he had been desiring for years, and the vibrations enhance your sensations.
Your eyes, shut before from the sudden bliss, now open to observe him. Beads of sweat condensate on his hairline, his dark curls beginning to stick to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed as if he had been running, and his eyes are closed, relishing in your ecstasy.
You tremble under his mouth, body falling back into the bed as his tongue pulls out whines and whimpers from your throat.
“Has he ever made you feel like this?” Jace asks, practically growling into your cunt.
“Never,” you reply shakily.
“Only I can make you feel this good, right?” He plants messy kisses along the length of your slit. “Make you see stars, pray to the gods that you may never have to part from me again.” When you don’t answer, he nips at your clit. “Right?”
“Yes!” you cry. Your vision blurs as your eyes begin to water from the stimulation. “Jace, please!”
“Whatever you wish for, I shall give you,” he croons. His tongue breaches you again, and you believe in that moment that Jace may be a prophet with the way you truly see stars.
“Need you inside of me,” you whine, “now.”
He chuckles against your skin. “I was never one to deny you anything.” He lifts from your cunt as it drips from saliva and natural arousal. His fingers play with your swollen lips, twitching with need. You buck into his fingers, chasing his touch, but he pulls away. Jace crawls over your body, one hand placed near your head to steady himself on the mattress, the other reaching down to tug at his member.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you glance down at his erect cock. He was much larger than your husband, easily noticeable to you by looking.
“What is it?” he asks, picking up on your stare.
“It’s just that…” you swallow. “You’re a lot bigger than him.”
You almost smack him at the way his eyes light up. “Oh really?” Pride drips from his words.
You cover your face with your hands. “Just be gentle with me, please.”
“Hey, hey.” He pulls your hands away and presses a light kiss to your lips. “I merely jest.” He searches your eyes for confirmation of your comfort.
You inhale deeply, smiling gently and nodding up at him. He breathes a sigh of relief and begins to pump his cock slowly, aligning it with your entrance.
“Say you want me,” he mutters, “that you want me just as much as I do you.”
“Gods, I want you so much, Jace. I have never wanted anything more.” You completely surrender yourself to him, relaxing your body into the mattress and spreading your legs further.
“Now fuck me, please.”
Jace doesn’t need to be told twice.
When he finally enters you, his first thought is that he doesn’t know how he lived this long without being connected to you.
His second thought is that he might cum way too early.
Your name leaves his lips like a prayer.
“Gods, you feel so good,” Jace whimpers, face scrunched up in bliss, “better than I could’ve ever imagined.”
He rocks his hips slowly into you, conscious of your hesitation at his size. It’s almost painful, the way his cautious movements make him keenly aware to his heightened sensations courtesy of you—the way your nails dig into his back and leave a pleasant burn, your soft mewls sends the blood rushing straight to his cock, your cunt stretching to accommodate his size and still clenching around him as if it never wants to let him go.
“Jace,” you moan breathlessly. Your head is thrown back onto the bed, neck bared to him. He can practically see your pulse racing against it. “Oh, Jace.”
Every utterance of his name that spills from your lips has his heart racing faster and faster. His cock twitches inside of you and his slow thrusts allow for your walls to suck him in, seating him inside of your cunt like a missing piece to a puzzle. It takes all his strength to not just pound you into the mattress, but he can feel himself slowly losing a grip on it.
“Please, please, can I move faster?” If Jace were any more lucid, he would be embarrassed at the high-pitched whine of his voice. But right now, all he’s focused on is pumping his cock into you and filling you with his seed.
You don’t open your eyes, and Jace isn’t sure if you heard him at first. But then you whimper, body quaking, and he hears it.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Softly, under your breath, you give him the answer he was so desperately searching for.
His hips start moving frantically, as if they had a mind of their own. His cock hits places deep inside of you that have remained untouched, so deep it feels like it's making a home inside of you.
Jace’s thrusts continue in their strength as his palm moves to press onto your stomach, fingers splayed as if branding your skin. He leans over you, curls damp with sweat, pupils blown wide. His lips are swollen kiss-bruised and part with uneven breaths. When he speaks, his voice is low and ragged.
“You’re going to carry my child,” he says suddenly. “ I swear to the gods, I’m going to put an heir in you right now.”
Your thighs quake at his assertiveness and your cunt weeps, practically acting as an open invitation, begging him to fill you up with his seed.
He feels the shift instantly. His grin is triumphant.
“Oh,” he breathes, “you like that?”
Your lips part, but you don’t deny it.
“You like the thought of it,” he confirms, watching your face, his hand sliding slowly up your thigh. “Of your husband” —he practically spits the title out— “in his cold, lonely bed while my seed takes root in you. While you swell with my heir.”
“Jace—” you murmur, breathless.
But he’s too far gone now, the words tumbling out of him—confessions from a man who’s been holding back far too long.
“When I’m king, I’ll name our children as my heirs openly. We’ll have no secrets or shame about it. Let the court talk. Let everybody talk.” He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Let your husband choke on it.”
You shiver.
He chuckles darkly against your skin and his cock pulsates inside of you as he rocks into you with absentminded vigor, his brain now conjuring up the fantasies he’d been keeping close since the moment you were taken from him and promised to another.
“I’ll make him bow to you. Make him watch as I crown you my queen. And he’ll know that every time he sees you, every time he hears your name, that he was never enough.”
His hand is at your jaw now, thumb stroking along your cheek. “He’ll hear the stories, of course. About how you cry for me. How you beg for me. How I touch you in ways he never could. Ways he never even thought to.”
You’re aching just from his words, legs tightening around him as your cunt flutters succinctly.
Jace notices. Of course he does.
“Oh, you do like that,” he says, voice low and amused, full of heat. “You want to see him humiliated. Don’t lie.”
You can’t speak. You don’t want to, instead wishing to bask in Jace’s words, full of desire and possession over you. You feel cherished, feel chosen—something you haven’t felt since the last time you had spoken to Jace many months ago.
“Perhaps we’ll name one after him,” Jace adds with a cruel smile, “as a joke. Or better yet—” He presses his forehead to yours, seating himself fully inside of you. “—we’ll give our firstborn a true Targaryen name, and the realm will know why. They’ll know it’s because you wanted me. You chose me. Because he couldn’t give you what I could.”
You gasp, half-horrified, half-delighted by the image, the madness of it, the kind of a life where none of this has to be hidden anymore.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “And I’ll have you forever tied to me. I’m done pretending otherwise.”
You arch up and kiss him with the kind of passion that says you believe it. That you’ll live out these fantasies with him.
Jace moans into the kiss, his hips stuttering. When he pulls back, he glances down, admiring the way that your stomach bulges slightly when he pushes his entire length inside of you.
“Fuck,” he mutters, gritting his teeth. He presses down on the area where his cock lies inside your cunt, causing you to whimper. “Can you feel me here? All the way up inside of you?”
The pressure has you reeling, clutching around wildly to stabilize yourself. “Jace! Yes!” You don’t even know what you’re responding to anymore, unable to tell if you’re even coherent or not, your senses jumbled as you try to navigate yourself back to reality.
“Do you want my seed?” His voice raises. “Do you want to carry my heir? Be sent back to your drunkard husband with your belly full of me?”
“Yes, yes!” At this point, you aren’t sure if any other words can come from your mouth.
“Yeah you do.” Jace thrusts into you so hard it pushes you back against the bed, your head pressing up against the stone wall. You hold an arm out to stop yourself from moving any more, Jace too far gone in his pleasure to notice how much control he has over your body.
His fingers dig into your waist, bruises no doubt going to show up later. Your limp body arches as he holds you up, the veins in his forearms bulging with intensity as he mercilessly fucks you onto his cock.
His rhythm completely falters and his eyebrows scrunch up. “Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!”
A sudden warmth fills you as Jace’s thick seed barrels into your cunt. It feels as though he has filled your every crevice, and looking down you feel as though your stomach bulges slightly at the amount of cum that’s been released inside of you.
Despite his orgasm passing Jace continues to thrust into you, albeit more gently. You whimper at the squelching sound it makes, his seed becoming displaced by his cock.
“Wait.” Your voice is raspy, your eyes bleary with unshed tears. You ghost a hand over your stomach, “Don’t let it spill.”
Jace answers your request with the swipe of his fingers, gathering the thick white seed that dribbled down your thigh and pushing it back into your entrance. “I did my duty here,” Jace murmurs, treasuring the sight of you full of his cum. He then turns his attention to your clit, still throbbing with unfulfilled gratification, “but a woman’s orgasm helps to truly implant the seed.”
You feel more sensitive now than ever, on the cusp of your own release. There’s a good kind of pain in the way that your built up peak threatens to push you over the edge.
Jace’s movements are adept, reading your body language expertly as he begins to coax your orgasm from your body. He mouths at your collarbone, leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks that illustrate the journey he took in exploring your body.
His fingers press down harder on your clit, and you jolt.
“Oh fuck—I can’t—”
“You can, you can,” he coos into your ear, biting softly on the lobe as his fingers circle your clit hurriedly.
“Jace!” With a final cry of his name, your orgasm hits you like a thunderstorm. Your cunt spasms furiously as your juices spray out, soaking Jace’s cock—still buried inside of you—and his frontside.
His eyes widen in wonder and amusement. “Look at you.” He collects some of your arousal off of his stomach, sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking it. “So perfect for me.”
He kisses you, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. You’re met with the unfamiliar taste of yourself, mixed with his own essence. Your head is full of the thoughts of you two together—your bodies, your fluids, your children.
“It’s okay.” Jace mutters. You don’t even realize your entire body is shaking until Jace runs a soothing hand up and down your arm, and you instinctively lean into his touch. He lowers himself onto the bed next to you and pulls you to his chest. “Lay with me for a bit.”
He doesn’t even have to ask. He knows what you want to do.
The fire from the hearth crackles low beside you, becoming the loudest noise in the room as it casts soft golden glow over tangled sheets and your tangled limbs.
You lie half-curled against Jace, your fingers resting lightly on his chest as it rises and falls, now having slowed into nice, even breaths. His arm is draped around you, hand splayed against the curve of your bare back, possessively. It makes you feel secure, cherished, loved.
You tilt your head just enough to look at him. He’s already watching you with unblinking admiration.
“What?” You whisper, giggling in embarrassment at the attention.
“I love you.”
Your breath hitches at the unexpected confession.
You blink, suddenly wide awake despite the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek, the steady beat of his heart, the exhaustion in your limbs from everything you’d just shared.
He said it so easily. Like it hadn’t been simmering in him for years. Like it wasn’t a major declaration, a hidden truth finally brought to light.
You pull back just enough to look up at him, your expression unreadable. His eyes don’t waver, not even a flicker of hesitation is to be found within them.
“I mean it,” Jace says softly, his voice rough and sincere. “I love you. I always have.”
You should tell him not to say things like that. That it’s foolish—dangerous. That it will only make it harder. But the words won’t come. You don’t want them to.
The silence stretches between you. Then, gently, you lay your palm against the side of his face, thumb brushing along the edge of his jaw.
He leans into it like a man starved.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he murmurs, eyes closing briefly. “I just needed you to know. I needed to say it.”
You let out a shaky breath. “Jace…”
His name is barely more than a whisper on your lips, but it grounds him. His eyes open again, searching yours.
“I think I was in love with you before I even understood what it meant,” he continues, rambling now, voice raw with emotion. “When we were children, I thought it was just…you being you. The way you laughed, the way you defied everyone without even trying.”
You smile, but your eyes sting of the memories from long ago, back when you were innocent children with no duties weighing you down.
“I wanted you even then,” he admits, threading his fingers through yours. “But now? Now I want everything. I want mornings with you. I want to see you carrying my children. I want to make you my queen.”
Your smile fades. Reality hits like a slap in the face.
“Is that really a promise you can keep?” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t lure me in with false hope.”
“I meant every word I said,” he responds immediately, his tone fierce. “I’ll find a way. The throne will be mine someday, my mother has guaranteed that. And when it is…” His eyes flash. “I’ll name you Queen. I’ll strip him of every title, every land. Let the realm see who you’ve always truly belonged to.”
You bite your lip, trying not to let the thrill of those words show, but he sees it anyway, of course.
“You truly do enjoy it when I speak of him like that.” He hums in victory, a smirk overtaking his lips. His thumb brushes over your lower lip. “I bet you’re thinking of him watching you take your place beside me, him kneeling at our feet while you wear the crown of the queen.”
You don’t answer in words, but your lashes flutter, your thighs shift slightly under the sheets, and your fingers curl just a little tighter into his.
He groans softly. “Gods, I love you.”
“Jace,” you whine, trying to steady yourself.
“I promise you. I’ll make this right.” His hand brushes against your stomach, the unspoken commitment to your child sealed.
You rest your forehead against his. “I believe you.” And you do. You truly do. Jace’s devotion runs deep, and you know that he will find a way to make the impossible happen, for you to be together in a world that seems so set on keeping you apart.
He closes his eyes, like the words are enough to keep him breathing.
And for a long moment, you just lie there with him. Your fingers graze across the skin of his chest, tracing soft shapes, feeling the quiet rise and fall of his breaths under your palm as he buries his nose into your hair.
You swallow once, hard. Then again.
And then, you say it.
“I love you too.”
His eyes open slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe the words have left your lips. But when he sees the open expression on your face, the soft vulnerability present, he exhales your name with a kind of reverence reserved for Gods.
You smile, small and aching, your truth finally tumbling out of you after being locked away and buried inside your heart for years.
“I think I always have,” you add. “Even when I tried not to. Even when I given away, when I wasn’t allowed to anymore.” You swallow, your throat feeling dry with the confession that has never left your lips before. “But I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t have.”
He lifts a hand to your face, cradling your cheek and saying your name with awe like he’s misheard your words.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
Your throat tightens, but you do. “I love you.”
His mouth finds yours then, slow and deep. It’s a purposeful kiss, like he’s kissing something sacred. Something finally his.
When he pulls back he rests his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the space between you.
“I won’t break my promise,” he says softly. “Whatever it takes. I’ll fight for you. For us.”
“I know,” you murmur. “But for now, hold me. Just be here with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A pleasant silence settles between you again, lulling you into a peace you haven’t felt in years. Then Jace speaks up again.
“When we were out there, I just kept thinking…Gods, I was hoping your lord husband would trip over his own feet tonight and go face-first into the roast duck.”
You snort quickly, startled. But then a laugh—a real, unguarded laugh, escapes you before you can stop it.
Jace’s grin widens instantly. “There it is.”
You blink up at him, giggles still tumbling out as you fail to smother the sound. “What?”
“Your laugh,” he says softly, eyes fixed on you with great tenderness beneath the teasing. “I missed it.”
Your smile fades into something quieter. You feel the weight of his words in your chest, the meaning behind them.
“I haven’t heard it since before he took you,” Jace adds, voice low. “Since before they stole you from me.”
The joy falters just a little in your chest, the realization of his words washing over you.
You meet his gaze, more serious now. “I haven’t heard it either.”
He blinks.
“I haven’t laughed. Really laughed,” you say, your fingers brushing across his chest as if grounding yourself in the truth. “Not since you.”
The weight of your words lies heavy between you.
“I think…” You swallow. “The last time I laughed like that was the summer before my father betrothed me. You’d slipped in the training yard trying to impress me with that new sword move you learned. Fell flat on your back and refused to admit you were winded.”
Jace chuckles, low and quiet. “I was winded. Just trying not to die in front of you.”
Your lips curve, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“That was the last time,” you say, your fingers fidgeting with his. “Before everything stopped being mine.”
His hand curls more tightly around your waist. “You’re still you.”
You look up at him, admiration in your gaze. “Now I am. Now that I’m with you.”
He grins and kisses you again, and you let yourself laugh against his lips, the sound finally belonging to you.
You two settle against each other again, and as the fire burns low, you lie there in the arms of the boy you’ve always loved, his hand over your stomach and your hand over his, eagerly awaiting the moment you no longer have to hide in the shadows and conceal your love for him.
feat. Rhaenyra Targaryen
ᯓ★ Rhaenyra has taken back her rightfully deserved throne. You're more than happy to help her celebrate her victory.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, rhaenyra and reader are married bc i make the rules here, rhaenyra recognized as the queen, semi-public sex, finger sucking, thigh humping, fingering
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
Rhaenyra ascends the Iron Throne in radiant splendor. She gazes down with the unshakable strength of a true queen, and you look up in awe with all the reverence and devotion of a loyal follower.
“Come, wife.” She motions with the flick of her hand for you to join her. “I wish to celebrate with you.”
With careful steps, you approach the throne, your breath catching as her eyes never leave yours. You two are alone, at last finding a moment of solitude amidst the war and chaos.
She reaches for your hand, drawing you up the final step, and with a gentleness reserved for you, she pulls you into her lap.
“My duty to the realm begins anew,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear, “but tonight, I am only yours.”
You melt into her touch as her fingers trace the line of your jaw. The crown atop her head glints in the warm light of the throne room as she leans in and her mouth claims you completely.
Her kiss is soft at first until you take the initiative to deepen it and thread your fingers into her hair, pulling yourself impossibly closer to her. Your chests collide in the frenzy, heavy breaths in sync.
Here, she is not just Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name. She is yours, and you, hers.
She draws back, just enough to rest her forehead against yours. Her breath is shallow. Her voice, low.
“You have been so good to me. So loyal.” Her lips just barely brush your own as she speaks. “Let me take care of you now.”
She kisses you again, pressing her tongue into your mouth, wanting total dominance. You submit, allowing her to control the kiss as you moan into it.
Rhaenyra suddenly pulls back and you whine, chasing her lips. She interrupts you as she holds out two fingers towards you. “Suck.”
Without hesitation, you take her fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and sucking on them with vigor. Rhaenyra hums approvingly, and the sound has arousal pooling in your abdomen.
You shift your hips in her lap, rubbing your wetness onto her clothed thigh. Her hand finds itself on the small of your back, controlling your movements. A smirk dances across her lips as her eyes shift down, admiring your figure.
You pull back from her to release her fingers from inside your mouth. “Does this please you, my queen?”
“Very much so.” Her hand travels down your bodice, reaching under your skirts and . “What a good wife I have.”
You jolt as Rhaenyra suddenly pushes a finger inside your entrance. “Already so wet for me,” she purrs.
As she thrusts into you, your arm reaches out to stabilize yourself. You end up grasping onto the arm of the iron throne, the cool metal of the swords sending a shock into your system. You arch into Rhaenyra, who holds you up with one hand while fingering you with the other.
“So reactive,” Rhaenyra teases gently. She adds another finger, and you whine at the intrusion, eyes rolling back in pleasure.
“I only wish to please you,” you respond.
“I am certainly pleased.”
Her finger curls into you, the wetness from your cunt releasing squelching sounds into the empty room.
“More!” you gasp, falling into her hold.
She adds a third finger and quickens her pace as your drenched thighs quiver at her touch.
“Do you like being so obedient for me? Responding so well to your queen’s commands?”
“Yes! Yes!” you cry out, arousal surging throughout your body.
She kisses your neck. “Then cum for me.”
Her praise is what sends you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you as you gasp. Rhaenyra’s hand falls on the small of your back, rubbing circles as you come down from your peak.
You press your forehead against hers as she smiles and takes your cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across the skin. “My perfect wife.”
You feel yourself heating up from her words, and you bury your face into her neck. “Your place has always been on this throne. I merely aided in ensuring it.”
Rhaenyra chuckles. “And your place is to be right by my side. Always.”He groans, grabbing onto your hips and fucking you into him, fighting against the tug of the restraints that pulls your body taut. “Atta girl, making a mess on my cock. Looks like you were born to do this.”
feat. Bo Sinclair
ᯓ★ Bo likes to leave you out as bait for his next victims. He also finds it sexy seeing you in your role as the helpless, tied-up victim.
Being blindfolded, gagged, and tied to the radiator was a common occurrence for you. Knowing you weren’t really in danger sometimes actually made it fun for you.
Your senses of hearing of smell were all that you could rely on in these moments, and usually they painted you a pretty clear picture of what was happening. Screams echo out in the isolated town, and then the unmistakable iron-like scent of blood fills your nostrils, signaling a death.
It’s quiet for a couple of minutes before you hear heavy boots stomping into the room you’re tied up in, and a wolf whistle sounds from in front of you.
“Shit, darlin’, you look hotter every time I come in here to get you.”
You squint as light fills your eyes, Bo having just removed your blindfold. He steps back, hands on his hips as he eyes you up and down. Your gaze shoots downward and back up at him to signal to him to take the gag out of your mouth.
“Hold on, I just wanna get a good look at you.” He chuckles, licking his lips.
You sigh, letting your head fall back against the wall. You’re not entirely sure what Bo sees in you being covered in filth and left to roast in a sweltering room for hours on end, but to each their own.
As he hums approvingly, his eyes scanning your restrained body, you notice him adjusting himself in his pants. They begin to tent and you try to say something to him but your words are muffled from the gag.
“Alright, alright, let’s hear what that filthy mouth has to say.” Bo concedes, kneeling to remove the gag from your mouth and hand it around your neck.
You glare up at him. “Do you seriously have a fucking boner right now?”
He grins cheekily. “I just can’t help myself around you darlin’.”
You roll your eyes, ignoring the feeling of your cheeks heating up and the arousal pooling in your stomach. Bo could be abrasive, and annoying, and many other not so positive things, but he sure had a way with words that always was a reminder why you subjected yourself as bait for his killings.
“Really though,” he continues, “seeing you all tied up is getting me going.” His calloused hands run up and down your thighs, palming at the flesh and sending a shiver up your spine. You glance up at Bo and see the desire in his eyes, evident in the way that his stare darkens as his pupils expand.
The rusty handcuffs strapped around your wrists bang against the radiator as you try to adjust your position. “Uncuff me so we can fuck, then.”
“Nah,” Bo pulls down your shorts, smirking at the sight of your pussy soaking through your panties. “I think I’ll keep you like this a little longer.”
He buries his face between your thighs and takes in a big whiff of your essence.
Your body jerks up at the suddenness of his actions. His nose bumps into your clit, and you moan. You wish you could reach down and pull him closer, but your arms remain stuck above your head, bound by the handcuffs.
“Shit,” he whispers, using two fingers to rub on your wet slit. “Can’t get enough of this pretty pussy.”
He pulls back his fingers to admire the way they glisten with your wetness, and you practically whimper when he sticks them in his mouth. Your toes curl and you try to pull your body closer to him, but the handcuffs prevent you from moving too far from your spot against the wall.
Bo grins, and returns his attention to your pussy. He tongues your clothed slit and a gasp escapes your lips as you jolt. The fabric is completely soaked thanks to your arousal, sticking to your puffy lips as Bo continues his teasing.
“Nice and wet for me,” he coos against your pussy, the vibrations of his deep drawl causing your walls to flutter around emptiness.
He doesn’t leave you hanging any longer as he detaches your soaked panties from your pussy, pushing them to the side as he dives into you, coating his tongue in your juices.
“Oh, fuck!” you cry out. Your arms instinctively go to move down so that you can grab onto his hair, but the handcuffs and stop you and you sob in frustration. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your hips buck helpless into his mouth and your hands ball into fists, desperate for relief.
You can feel the way Bo smirks into your pussy, pushing his tongue deeper inside of you. He uses his thumb to play with your swollen clit and you jerk at the touch.
The light stubble on his cheeks scratches into your thighs, but you revel in the roughness, enjoying the light pain it brings you.
Bo hums, the sound muffled against your pussy. “Messy girl,” he teases. His thumb on your clit starts increasing in pace, and you feel your walls contract as your peak reaches closer and closer with his touch.
Bo takes notice of it quickly. “Gonna cum for me already?”
“Yes, yes!” Your restrained hands flex as you buck up into him wildly. “Oh God, yes, please, let me cum!” you babble, tears welling up in your eyes from the stimulation.
“Well, when you’re that desperate,” he murmurs, glancing up at your already fucked out form, “who am I to deny you?”
He pumps his tongue deeper into you, fingers expertly pulling out all kinds of sounds from your lips.
Your orgasm hits you suddenly, your entire body shaking with the force of it. Your breath comes out in broken gasps and your eyes roll back as you allow yourself to bask in the feeling. You squeeze your legs together as your body squirms, pleasure completely washing over you.
In your state of bliss, you barely notice how Bo pulls himself back and furiously tugs down his pants and underwear, his hard cock springing out of its confines.
“Look at you,” he teases, shoving his hand between your thighs and scooping up your arousal. He uses it to lube himself up, fisting his cock, slowly as it begins to glisten with your slick. “All tied up and helpless to stop me.”
His eyes trail over your body like a man starved, breath ragged and cheeks flushed with need. “I can do whatever I want with you and you wouldn’t even be able to stop me.”
You bite your lip. “But I wouldn’t want to stop you.” You slowly spread your legs back open to him, a silent offering of your sopping wet pussy.
Bo’s grin widens and he pounces on you like an animal in heat. His cock pulses with desire, the head red and angry.
“Fuck,” he growls, “Look at what you do to me.” His cock throbs against you, the aching member resting on the pouch above your pussy. He rocks himself against you, the motion wetting your skin.
He holds his cock in his hands and guides it lower, pressing it against your slit. You whimper as he rubs it against your wetness, the head teasingly pushing through your folds but missing your entrance.
“Need you inside,” you beg, making a feeble attempt to wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.
He slaps his cock against your entrance. “Yeah? You need it?”
You nod furiously, tugging on the handcuffs. “Please!”
You yelp as Bo pushes himself inside of you and immediately begins to piston his hips. The loud squelching from your pussy causes your face to heat up, revealing how aroused you are.
He groans, grabbing onto your hips and fucking you into him, fighting against the tug of the restraints that pulls your body taut. “Atta girl, making a mess on my cock. Looks like you were born to do this.”
“Oh God!” you let out with a cry, your head thrown back against the wall, pulse racing as Bo thrusts into you.
“No God here,” he drawls, tightening his grip on you, “only me.”
As he thrusts into you, Bo admires the creamy white ring that envelops his cock, the culmination of your essence and his arousal. The sight gets him even more worked up, his hips rutting into you even rougher than before.
“Can’t do anything but lay there and take it,” he rambles, his cock hitting places so deep it makes you see stars. “You like being all helpless while I fuck you?”
It felt as though he was drilling a hole into you, opening you up wide with his cock. You can barely register his comments as body goes limp, only being held up by his hands. Drool escapes from the corner of your lips as you pant, chest heaving as Bo buries himself deep into your pussy.
“Shit,” he exhales, gritting his teeth, “gonna fucking cum.”
His hips stutter and his fingers press into your skin, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. You bask in the way his cock pulses inside of you, and you can feel yourself flutter around his member.
“Feel so good, squeezing around me.” Bo’s eyes are squeezed shut and he swallows hard, clenching his jaw as he gets closer to his orgasm. “Gonna cum inside you.”
Your pussy tightens in anticipation at his declaration and it acts as his trigger, Bo letting out a low groan as he spills inside of you.
His thick cum fills you up completely as it shoots out in streams, the heat pooling in your stomach. His cock twitches as he rolls his hips to empty himself inside of you just as your entrance spasms with your second orgasm hitting you.
Bo pulls himself out of you and rests his now semi-hard cock on your stomach. He allows himself to fall forward, his large body covering your own as you both recover from your releases, panting in sync as your breaths mingle with the closeness.
After a minute, you rattle the handcuffs and get Bo’s attention, his eyes shifting up to the restraints. “Can you let me out now?” you ask, voice scratchy from your cries.
He smirks. “Gotta find the key first.”
You try to kick him, but he dodges your foot at the last second, sitting up and chuckling.
feat. Alicent Hightower
ᯓ★ Alicent is hesitant to indulge in her desires. You offer her a temporary solution.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, reader is a noble, criston cole jumpscare, dom/sub dynamics, dom!reader, sub!alicent, erotic corset removing, just erotic everything, breast play, fingering, cunnilingus
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
The music feels hollow and the laughter shallow as the Targaryen wedding is celebrated, of which the bride and groom seem the most soured by their matrimony.
You’ve long grown accustomed to the queerness of Targaryen customs. Yet even now, watching two siblings bound in holy matrimony, your stomach coils.
Poor, young Helaena sits alone, her chair angled away from the crowd. She rocks in place, hands folded tightly in her lap, wide, unblinking eyes fixed on something unseen. Aemond leans in close to whisper into her ear. Whatever he says, she gives no response. Only the faintest shiver betrays that she hears him at all.
Aegon, her brother and groom, gulps down his fourth—no, that’s his fifth now—goblet of ale with the greed of a man who thinks the world owes him more than it ever will. He beams at the toasts, the laughter, the slaps on his back. Every word of congratulations is an excuse to drink more, and to forget his new bride with every sip.
You made sure to steer clear of his grabby hands that fondled whatever unlucky woman walked into his path.
Your eyes drift across the hall to where Queen Alicent sits, her face tight with restraint. She watches her son’s disgrace, her daughter's silent unraveling, and her fingers tremble as they twist in her lap. Her eyes are glassy, on the verge of spilling.
You approach her quietly, slipping into the empty seat at her side. She startles, gasps softly—but then sees you and exhales. Her composure returns and she smooths out her dress as she addresses you.
“How are you?” she breathes, voice light and distant.
“Save the courtesies, Alicent,” you purr, just loud enough for her to hear. No one is aware of your closeness, and you intend to keep it that way. You reach over and still her fidgeting hand, covering it with your own, the gesture subtle yet intimate.
Her fingers twitch beneath yours. “You mustn’t call me that here,” she hisses. Her eyes scan the room, but no one is watching you two.
“They won’t notice.” You lean in, keeping your voice low. “Not tonight.”
You nod toward the bride and groom. “How does it make you feel? Watching your children marry like this?”
Her lips press into a line. “They are fulfilling their duty,” she answers, her voice quiet and hollow.
“As are we all,” you reply, words pinched in understanding. You tilt your head, observing her distance, her solitude. “Does it make you feel lonely?”
She looks at you then, really looks. Pain and longing flicker in her gaze before it simmers out as quickly as it ignited.
“They’re growing up. Drifting from you,” you continue. “And your husband…” You glance across the room where King Viserys slumps over and coughs as he talks to a couple of high lords. “He was never meant to be yours.”
Her breath catches. “Don’t speak of him like that. Not here.”
But there’s no conviction in her words. Only the exhaustion of someone who’s run out of lies to tell herself.
You lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let me provide you with the companionship you’ve been so desperately seeking.”
Her breath hitches. “It is too risky,” she says, the protest weak on her lips.
“I disagree,” you counter, “this is the perfect moment.” You gesture to the room. “They are all drunk or distracted by the celebration. We can slip away so easily.”
She hesitates, then gives the faintest nod, so slight it could be missed by the blindest eye. But you see it.
You smile.
Slipping your arm into hers, you rise together. To the crowd, it’s nothing—a simple escort, a lady aiding the queen. You glide across the floor, weaving past guests too distracted to spare you more than a bow or curtsy.
But just before you cross the threshold of the grand hall, the clinking of armor sounds and the large body wearing it blocks your path.
In front of you, Ser Criston stands, rigid and watchful.
“Ser Criston,” Alicent squeaks, adjusting her posture. “We were just stepping out.”
His gaze drops to your linked arms then rises again, cold and calculating.
“I shall escort you, my Queen,” he says, but he keeps his suspicious gaze to you. But he doesn’t look at her. He looks at you.
“That won’t be necessary,” Alicent replies with surprising firmness. “I’ll summon Talya if you are needed.”
He holds still, tense, as if he might protest. But finally, he steps aside without uttering another word.
As you pass, his eyes pierce into yours—a silent warning. You only smirk, holding Alicent just a little closer to you and you saunter away with her on your arm.
Alicent leads you down the dim corridor, her steps swift as you keep in line with her. At the door to her chambers, she casts a glance over her shoulder, then sweeps the hall with sharp, practiced eyes. Empty. With a soft click, the door closes and the lock turns.
When she turns, you are already reaching for her. You cradle her face, gentle but firm, and lean in, chasing the warmth of her mouth.
But she turns her head, and your kiss brushes her cheek instead.
“This is wrong,” she murmurs, voice strained, but the words tremble and sound like a feeble attempt to convince herself of no wrongdoing.
You pull back just enough to meet her gaze, then sweep your eyes across the room. A glimmer of deep green silk catches your eye in the candlelight, draped carelessly over a chair.
You walk toward it, lifting it with slow fingers, and turn back to her. “Come,” you say, voice low.
She hesitates. You step closer, holding up the silk between you..
“You need not taste the sin tonight,” you whisper. “Let me bear it for you.”
Her gaze bores into yours, as if searching for an answer.
You raise the silk and tie it gently across her eyes. Her lashes flutter against the fabric, and her breath hitches as her world goes dark. Beneath it, you watch her cheeks bloom with a flush that speaks not of shame, but of surrender.
You finally close the distance between you two and Alicent gasps into the kiss. It starts off slowly, hesitantly, before your hand tangles itself into her curls and you pull her closer, the kiss turning more aggressive as your tongue slithers into her mouth.
She melts into you, breath trembling against your lips as the kiss deepens, feeling more like a claim and less like a question. Her hands find the fabric of your sleeves, clutching them as if anchoring herself.
You guide her backward, lips never leaving hers, until the back of her knees brushes the edge of the bed. She falters, and gasps again, the blindfold heightening every sensation that you bring her.
“You’re shaking,” you murmur against her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, confliction in her tone.
You press your forehead to hers. “Don’t think,” you whisper. “Just let yourself feel.”
Your hands rise to Alicent’s shoulders with a light touch. With a quiet breath, you guide her to turn, and she obeys. Your fingers find the lacing of her corset at her back and you undo the fabric with slow delicacy. She shivers beneath your touch, her body responding to you with raw honesty.
You let your hands trail along the newly bared skin, tracing the curve of her spine and the dip of her waist. She arches ever so slightly, drawn to the pull of your hands, and the dress pools at her feet. She steps out of it, wordlessly.
Your fingers trail down her arms, slow and teasing, before settling at her waist. You guide her gently onto the bed. She lies back against the dark linen, blindfolded and flushed, her chest rising and falling in delicate waves.
You pause, admiring the view in front of you. She looks vulnerable yet ethereal, illuminated by the dim candlelight.
You kneel beside her, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “Tell me to stop,” you say, your voice barely above a breath, “and I will.”
She doesn't speak. You know she won’t. You know just how much she wants this, how much she desires you.
She tilts her chin up, baring her neck to you as a silent offering.
You lean forward, letting your lips ghost over the edge of her jaw, down the column of her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath your mouth. Her hands clutch at the sheets, fingers twisting in the linen as she lets out a soft sigh.
You suck on the delicate skin, and trail kisses down her throat, stopping at her chest. You take one breast into your mouth, swirling your tongue around her sensitive nipple. Alicent’s hand flies to your head with a surprised moan. You continue with your ministrations, enveloping her other breast in your hand and toying with the nipple between your fingers.
“O-oh,” Alicent gasps, her voice already raspy with lust.
You take her sighs of pleasure as a sign to continue. You let go over her breast and your hand travels lower, first to her stomach, fingertips ghosting her skin, then reaching its final destination at her entrance.
You wait for a sign from Alicent, and she bucks her hips up into her hand, anticipating your touch. You swipe two fingers over her slit, gathering some of her wetness that leaked out. Her body jolts as you caress her mound, allowing an additional finger to play with her clit, red and puffy from arousal.
“Please,” she whispers, “please keep touching me.”
You obey. One finger enters her, stopping as she tenses up at the intrusion.
“Relax,” you murmur against her skin, nipping at her thighs. “Feel it.”
Her breath hitches, but then she exhales slowly. The resistance against your finger lessens, and you gently pump it inside of her. You curl your finger, and take pleasure in the way she chases your touch.
As you add a second finger, Alicent’s voice loudens, her moans hoarse as one hand claws at the bedsheets, the other still on your head, stabilizing her.
Adding your tongue to the mix rewards you with more of her delicious sounds, and you drink them in as you feast on her cunt.
Glancing up at her, you admire the way her chest heaves, the way her head is thrown back in pleasure, and the trickles of sweat that travel down her neck.
Swirling your tongue inside of her, you pull the orgasm from her body with a gentle force, and her walls convulse around you as she allows herself to let go and the pleasure to wash over her. You lap up her juices, licking her clean as she comes down from her high. Her hands reach down to find you, and you entwine your fingers with hers as you crawl on top of her.
You press a final kiss to her lips before your fingers rise to the knot at the back of her head. Slowly, you untie the silk, letting it slip from her eyes as the blindfold falls beside you.
Alicent blinks, her lashes damp with unshed tears. There’s no sorrow or shame to be found in her gaze. Only tenderness and quiet wonder. Your heart stirs with hope, a dangerous thing.
“How do you feel?”
She doesn’t answer right away. And she doesn’t need to.
The silence is filled only with your shared breaths, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the whisper of linens shifting beneath your bodies. A sacred stillness settles in the room, wrapping around you both. Out there, beyond the closed doors, the world still spins, but it feels as though none of that matters as you stare into her eyes. full of duty, deceit, and cruel expectation.
Her lips part. Her eyes never leave yours.
“Perfect,” she whispers.
Without hesitation, you gather her into your arms, your bodies fitting into each other as though they were always meant to fit that way. Your fingers glide along the curve of her spine and her heartbeat thudding softly against your chest.
You tangle your limbs with hers, anchoring her to you, or perhaps anchoring yourself to her. You bury your face into the crown of her hair, breathing her in, willing time to slow. There is ache in you now, an impossible longing to freeze this moment.
But you say nothing, and instead continue to hold her for as long as time will allow.
The cameras flash like gunfire, each blinding strobe capturing your flawless silhouette against the background of the red carpet.
You’ve mostly gotten used to it by now. The way that each pop of light captures every fake smile, every lean into Johnny’s side, every kiss pressed lovingly against his lips. His arm is looped tightly around your waist, rough, calloused fingers pressing just a little too hard through the silk of your corset top. It’s a signal. Smile wider, princess.
You do as you're told. Perfect teeth, perfect posture, perfect fucking life. The media and your fans eat it up.
The scream sheets claim that Johnny Silverhand has found a new muse. That’s what he claimed when this whole thing first started. Suddenly, you were more than just some name buried twelve tabs deep on the net. Your streams skyrocketed, brand deals flooded your inbox, and your shows sold out faster than ever before.
You were finally someone.
The limo door shuts behind you, and the various shouts from the paparazzi are cut off like a severed audio feed. It’s quieter now, almost suffocating. Johnny’s boot taps against the carpeted floor to a rhythm of some song only he knows. He leans back, arm slung across the seat like he owns the place. Owns you.
“You froze up there,” he mentions, not bothering to look at you.
“I didn’t freeze,” you mutter. “It’s not my first award show, y’know.”
“Mhmm,” he hums. “What was it then? Too busy looking at your boy toy handing you the award?”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t start, Johnny.”
He grumbles but lets the conversation die, at least for now. The limo stops in front of his high-rise. Not yours. It’s never yours. He pushes the door open and steps out, the city’s neon reflecting on his leather jacket. He doesn’t look back to see if you’re following.
You do, of course. You always have.
His apartment smells like cigarettes and something distinctly him. You barely get one heel through the doorway before he’s piping up once more.
“So, you gonna tell me what the fuck that was?” he questions as he tosses his jacket onto the couch.
You scoff, peeling off your jewelry piece by piece and tossing it onto an end table. “You’re being ridiculous,” you reply, turning to look at him.
He hops to his feet, his heavy boots hitting the floor as he saunters toward you.
“That’s rich coming from someone who eye-fucks every guy she comes into contact with,” he spits.
You slap him, and the sound cracks through his empty apartment.
He doesn’t flinch. Just grabs your wrist and looks at you like you’re the most infuriating thing he’s ever encountered.
“I don’t belong to you,” you hiss, and attempt to wrench your arm out of his grasp.
He pulls you closer, his fingertips digging into your forearm. “You’re only here because of me, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice low and dangerous.
He backs you up so you’re pressed against a nearby wall, caging you in. He slots one of his thighs between your legs and places his hand around your neck, his thumb and his forefinger holding your chin.
“Think what you want. I’m the only one who’s ever really cared about you. So keep writing about me. Keep singing about me with that pretty little voice. But don’t lie to yourself.”
You look up at him. Furious and ashamed to admit that he’s right. He consumes every word you sing and every thought you think. Sometimes it’s like you can’t even breathe without him.
“You done?” you ask, your voice tight.
He leans in, his breath fanning against your cheek. “Not even close.”
Before you can even think, his lips are on yours.
The kiss is hard. Sharp. Almost like he’s trying to shut you up. His hands are everywhere— tangling in your hair, tugging on the zipper of your dress, and dragging you closer like you’re the only thing that matters.
You match his desperation, biting his lower lip just to feel him growl against your mouth. His cybernetic hand grips the back of your neck, the cool metal sending a shiver down your spine. He pulls away, leaving your lips shiny and kiss-swollen. He leans down and presses open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat, sinking his teeth into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. You gasp, and he’s quick to soothe you by sliding his tongue over the mark he just left. You rock your hips against his thigh, attempting to quell some of the aching in your core.
Johnny’s cybernetic hand snakes down to slide through the slit in your dress, and he drags a finger over your clothed core, earning a needy whine from you. You’re already embarrassingly drenched for him, and your thighs clench around his as he touches you.
His metal finger is quickly replaced by his organic one, and the cool metal presses against the column of your throat. Your pulse hammers against his thumb as he does ineffable things under your dress. He slides your panties to the side and slowly pushes a finger inside of you, pumping it a few times before adding another. The stretch has your head spinning. It’s almost too much; you’re too consumed by him to even think straight.
His grip tightens around your throat, and he tilts your head up to look up at him. “You might not belong to me, princess,” he breathed, curling his fingers and hitting the spongy spot inside you. “But this pussy does.”
You whimper as he extends his thumb to rub against his clit. Your walls flutter against Johnny’s fingers as he works you closer and closer to your release. Johnny’s grip tightens around your neck just a fraction, heightening every sensation. Your world narrows to just Johnny’s hand between your thighs and his voice against your ear.
You can’t help the way you cry out his name as you cum. It’s pathetic, needy. Everything you didn’t want to become. You didn’t need Johnny, you never did. When he’s touching you like this, though, you begin to think that maybe you could bear with having him around.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes as your orgasm washes over you in waves. It nearly feels like a rip current threatening to pull you under, never to be seen again.
“So pretty when you cry, princess,” Johnny slurs, his nose brushing against your cheek.
The familiar clinking of his belt buckle pulls your world back into focus. You watch through half-lidded eyes as Johnny pulls his fingers out of you and strokes his cock, covering his length with your release.
A shuddering gasp escapes you as he slides his cock through your dripping folds. He collects your slick with every pass, and your mind becomes fuzzy once more, overcome by how much you need him inside you.
Slowly, he teases your entrance with the head of his cock. “This pussy is mine,” he growls against your ear. “Understand?”
You nod mindlessly, anything to get him to fuck you. You let out a high-pitched whine as he inches inside you. The way he stretches you is exquisite, and your nails dig into his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself. After a few moments, he bottoms out, filling you completely.
Your walls flutter around him, aching for him to move.
“Say it, princess. Say you’re mine,” he says lowly, his breath brushing against your ear.
You whimper, jutting your hips against his in a feeble attempt to obtain the delicious friction you crave. He tsks, holding your hips firmly in place.
“Johnny,” you mewl, scrunching your face up in frustration. He chuckles lowly, watching as you squirm against him. You huff, shifting slightly before looking up at him through your lashes. Your voice is soft as you finally say the words he’s been waiting to hear. “I’m yours.”
“Atta girl,” he praises as he grips your thighs and, in one swift motion, lifts you. Your thighs press against your chest, and the new angle has stars dancing behind your eyes.
You whine his name, a strangled moan leaving you as he rocks against you, pulling out a little more with each drag of his hips.
Gradually, he increases his pace. He leans down to kiss you; it’s messy and hard, a mix of tongues and teeth clashing together. His free hand reaches down to rub hasty figure-eights against your clit.
You clench around him hard, squirming against him as he brings you closer and closer to your orgasm. His thrusts become short and rough as he chases his release. Your nails dig into his biceps, carving little half moons into his flesh as you cling to him.
“C’mon, cum around my cock, princess,” he urges, his words slurring together.
You nod, and with one final roll of his hips, you do as he asks. You cry out his name as your walls spasm around him and your orgasm washes over you.
Johnny’s quick to follow you off the precipice, and he groans as his release coats your walls. Thick white jets of his cum fill you, and you whine at the sensation.
Slowly, the twitching of Johnny’s cock ceases, and he pulls out of you. “Fuck,” he breathes as he sets you down and watches as his release drips out of you and coats your thighs.
You cling to him, attempting to stop the quaking in your legs. He smooths your dress down— ever the gentleman. He takes a step back and tucks himself back into his pants as his breathing slowly evens out.
Johnny reaches a hand up and brushes the hair out of your eyes. Your throat tightens, and you look away, both ashamed and furious for falling into his trap once more.
“Don’t you ever doubt this again,” he murmurs, and it almost sounds like a threat.
You swallow hard before nodding. Maybe one day you’ll escape Johnny’s hold, but today isn’t that day.
feat. Johanna Mason
ᯓ★ The more Johanna pisses you off, the more turned on you seem to get.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, victor!reader, takes place before the 73rd games, knife to to the throat trope, lots of banter, fighting as foreplay, like they're actually fighting, semi-public sex, fingering, this is more foreplay than sex my bad
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
There was a fragile glimmer of hope you held for your tributes, until Johanna Mason decided to sweep in, tear it from your heart, and stomp it out beneath her heel.
“I can’t believe they let the rookie in,” she scoffs, sidling up next to you as you both watch the screens with the live broadcasting from the training center.
You won your Games just last year not by any charm or cunning, but through raw, brutal strength, a rarity from District 10. Eighteen and reaped on your last eligible year, you’d spent more time in your family's slaughterhouse than you had in a classroom. You knew how to kill, and in the end, all of that work paid off in ways you won’t ever be able to erase from your memory.
“You’re one to talk,” you mutter, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “You were the rookie before I won.”
“At least I have strategies worth teaching,” Johanna snaps, giving you a slow once-over. “You? You just hit things and hope for the best. I doubt there’s a single strategic bone in that meathead body of yours.”
You ignore her goading for now and instead turn your attention towards the District 10 tributes. The male tribute was practicing with a spear now, his movements unrefined yet confident, ruled by anger.
“He’s a lot like I was,” you murmur, nodding toward the screen. His anger was his driving force just like yours was and sometimes, that’s all it takes. “I think he can make it far.”
Johanna chuckles, low and mocking. “Yeah, sure. As if the Capitol’s gonna let the Careers lose for a third year in a row. Keep dreaming.”
Your jaw tightens at her cynicism. “Do you have any hope for these kids?” Your voice raises unintentionally. “We’re helping to lead them to their deaths and you’re actually joking about?”
Her smirk vanishes and her eyes narrow as she steps closer to you.
“Listen,” she growls, stepping into your space. “I did what I had to do two years ago. I fought. I won. I survived. And yet my life still revolves around these fucking Games. Don’t talk to me about hope.”
You scoff, shaking your head. “You act like you’re the only one who had it rough. We’ve all been through this shit.”
Johanna raises an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. One year out and suddenly you’re the wise, wounded mentor? Please.”
You step closer, unwilling to back down. “At least I give a damn. You could at least pretend they matter before they're thrown to the damn wolves in that arena.”
“Spare me the morality speech,” she snaps, pushing you up against the wall and leans closer. “And don’t tell me how to feel.”
Your eyes flick around the room, landing on a knife glinting on the table. In one motion, you drive your foot into Johanna’s knee. She curses, her grip faltering just enough for you to break free. You lunge forward, snatching the knife and holding it up to her throat before she can recover. “Try that again and I’ll fucking cut you.”
A wicked smile curves across her lips, eyes widening—not with fear, but with something darker. Adrenaline? Amusement? “I see,” she purrs. “You like to play.”
Her hands suddenly grip your shoulders, slamming you back into the table with a bone-jarring thud. She leans in, close enough for her breath to brush your lips.
“Then let’s play.”
Before you can respond, she’s already moving.
You twist just as her fist shoots out, narrowly dodging a strike aimed for your throat. Your shoulder clips the edge of the table as you dart away, pain flaring but not enough for you to pay it much mind. You pivot on your heel, the knife still in your hand, and slash low. She jumps back with a laugh that’s too breathless to be anything but delighted.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunts, circling you slowly. Her gaze flicks to the knife with little urgency, as if it's not a deadly weapon that can gut her in seconds.
“You’re the one bleeding,” you growl, eyes dropping to the shallow cut lining her hip. It’s barely a nick through the fabric, but still enough to leave a mark.
She looks down at it, then licks her bottom lip.
She hums, voice thick with mock approval. “Foreplay.”
Then she’s on you again.
Your back slams into the wall with a grunt as her thigh pressing between yours, pinning you there. Her touch against you draws a gasp from your lips and leaves your body shuddering. You almost feel hypnotized as you gaze into her eyes. Heat pools in your lower abdomen as her thigh grinds up into you.
You raise your knifed fist out of her line of sight when she’s distracted.
She grins ferally as she grabs it mid-swing, slamming your hand against the table top. The blade clatters onto the metal, narrowly missing your fingers.
Her body’s flush against yours now, chest heaving, breath ragged from the fight. You can’t tell if she wants to kill you or kiss you.
Maybe both. You really hope it’s both.
“You’re not bad,” she murmurs in your ear. “Bit reckless. Rough around the edges.”
You shove your knee between hers, shifting the balance, and push back hard. She stumbles—just a step, but it’s enough. You spin her, slam her into the wall where you just stood, your forearm pressed across her collarbone.
“I’m better than you think,” you murmur, your lips ghosting just below her jaw.
Her breath catches, just slightly for you to notice.
Then she smiles again. “Good,” she says. “I like a challenge.”
Both of you heave, catching your breath, and you take advantage of the moment of brevity. You surge forward to kiss her and she meets you halfway, like she knew exactly what you would do.
The kiss feels like it’s part of the fight, fierce and unyielding, neither you or Johanna wanting to surrender. A low, satisfied hum rumbles in her throat as you curl your fingers into her shirt, dragging her even closer to you. You don’t think. Instinct acts as a driving force between you two. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth as she bites your lip harshly.
You part your lips in a gasp wide enough for her to deepen the kiss, slipping her tongue into your mouth. Her hands find your sides and she slides them up your back, digging her fingers into you so harshly that you aren’t sure if she’s trying to hurt you or just ground herself.
You pull back for air briefly, pressing your forehead to hers as your breaths mingle in the narrow space between you.
“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, your voice low, still roughed up from the fight.
Her eyes gleam playfully and she licks her lips. “I don’t think it’s just me that wants it.”
Then she’s kissing you again, harder this time. Your hands move on their own, one tangling itself in her hair, the other moving lower down her front.
You take her by surprise when you shove your hand down her pants, fingers toying with her clit. She throws her head back against the wall with a moan. You extend your fingers lower, teasing with her entrance. She’s wet, sopping onto your fingers, causing you to smirk. “You always get off on being beat up?” you tease.
“What can I say?” She reaches behind her and grabs the knife off of the table. She brandishes the weapon, holding it up to your cheek. “I love a good fight.”
Your breath hitches and your fingers stutter as she lightly caresses your face with the sharp blade.
“I can hear your heart racing,” she whispers, her voice husky in your ear. “You always get so worked up being close to death?”
She flicks the knife purposely, a small cut that barely breaks skin appearing on your cheek as you hiss.
“Oops,” she mocks, giving you a look as if daring you to go farther.
You glare and shove two fingers inside of her entrance, taking delight in her startled gasp. You curl them inside of her, reaching places deep inside to get her off.
Her lips curl up into a snarl. “You play dirty,” she sneers.
You huff with exasperation. “You just underestimate me.”
Your pace increases and she ruts against your hand. She convulses around you, and her low curse signals her orgasm.
Her juices run onto your hand, and you thrust your fingers into her a couple of more times, only stopping when her grip on the knife tightens and you think she’s actually about to cut you deeper.
You pull your fingers out of the pants, glancing up at her through your lashes as you lick them clean. She presses the tip of the knife under your chin, pulling you closer until she cranes her neck to kiss you deeply, tongue slipping in and licking all over.
“I still can’t stand you, you know,” you murmur against her lips when you pull back.
“Me neither.” Her voice is barely above a whisper as her eyes bore into your own. She gives you a smirk of her own. “This wouldn’t be as fun if we didn’t.”
╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: Josh gets handsy while you and the gang watch a cheesy horror flick
╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, fingering, dirty talk, praise, public sex
╰› ✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧ 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑝𝑎𝑑 ✧
The Washington lodge felt warmer tonight. Maybe it was from the fire crackling in the hearth in the other room or the hum of your friend’s voices bouncing off the heavy wooden beams. The movie beaming onto the screen from the projector above your head casts everyone in a flickering light. It was Josh’s pick, a cheesy horror film from the 80s that most of the group was only half paying attention to.
Chris and Ashley leaned close together, whispering back and forth as the movie progressed. Sam curled up in one of the chairs near them with a bowl of popcorn nestled securely in her lap, and, to no one’s surprise, she seemed to actually be paying attention to the film on the screen. Mike made the occasional loud comment, earning a jab in the ribs from Jess and shushing from Sam. Emily and Matt were long gone, having left under the guise of finding snacks for the movie.
You were tucked in the middle of it all, hidden under a thick fleece blanket and smushed against Josh’s side as the two of you shared one plush leather chair. Josh’s arm was draped casually over your shoulders, but there was nothing casual about the way he leaned in, his breath brushing against your temple.
“Comfy?” he whispered.
You hummed, nodding into the dimness. You could feel the grin on his face even before he leaned down to press a quick kiss against your hair.
For a while, you both let yourself get caught in the rhythm of your group’s dynamic. Jess would groan at one of Mike’s bad jokes, Sam would shush them, and Chris would mutter something that Ashley would giggle at.
You should’ve known Josh was scheming the moment he got quiet. He shifted slightly, pulling you completely into his lap. You paid no mind to the change in position, and you settled against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you close against him. His fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater— an absentminded gesture to the untrained eye, but you knew better. His attention wasn’t on the movie. When his hand trailed lower, brushing against the hem of your leggings, you tilted your head just enough to meet his eyes in the glow of the movie.
“You’re not watching,” you murmured, a hint of playful scolding in your tone.
Josh ran a placating hand across your thigh and huffed out a laugh. “Neither are you,” he countered softly, a faint smirk gracing his lips.
Heat crept up the back of your neck, but you nudged him with your elbow. He only chuckled in response, the sound rumbling down your spine. He leaned closer, intertwining one of his hands with yours.
“Relax, honey, no one’s paying attention.”
Across the room, Mike groaned dramatically at a jump scare. “Cheap shot,” he announced, earning another shove from Jess. The distraction gave Josh enough cover to settle one of his hands on your inner thigh, his fingers curling just enough against the plushness to send a shiver down your spine.
Your fingers wrapped around Josh’s wrist, a silent warning for him to behave, goddamnit. You didn’t have to turn your head to know that Josh was grinning. Two of his favorite things were seeing how far he could push you and getting you off, and it seemed like he was determined to partake in both tonight.
His hand drifted further upward, his fingertips dancing against your inner thigh. You bit your lip before sliding lower, spreading your thighs just enough. It was a silent surrender to the heat pooling at your core.
He squeezed your thigh, almost as if to praise you. Atta girl, he’d say if you weren’t surrounded by your friends. Just let me make you feel good.
His fingers trailed up slowly before circling teasingly against your clothed clit. A small gasp left you before you catch it.
Josh dipped down, his mouth brushing against your ear, and his voice low and teasing. “Easy, honey,” he whispered, “don’t want everyone to know what a dirty girl you are.”
Your cheeks grew warm at his teasing, but you nodded anyway, already trembling in his grasp. Josh’s fingers traced the waistband of your leggings before he slid his hand underneath the thin fabric and into your underwear. He slid a finger through your already-dripping folds, and your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you attempted to stifle your moans.
“Already so wet f’me, honey,” Josh praised softly. Two thick digits rubbed slow circles against your clit, and your slick coated them in no time. He dipped his middle finger down to tease your entrance, and the sound system boomed, covering up the sounds of your sopping heat.
Josh pressed a finger inside you, a low groan leaving him as he was met with little resistance. You arched against him, one hand reaching down to cling to his wrist while the other dug into the plush leather of the armrest.
His palm ground against your clit as he pumped his finger languidly inside you. You nearly choked on your gasp as he added another digit, stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around him as he jutted his fingers deeper inside you, curling a little to hit the spot that had you whimpering.
You trembled in his grasp and clamped down on his fingers. Josh hummed as the killer on the screen succeeded in taking out one of his victims. A chaste kiss is pressed against your temple, and he extends his thumb to draw figure eights against your clit.
It doesn’t take long for you to tumble over the edge. It never did when Josh had you completely as his mercy. He knew you almost as well as he knew himself, maybe even more. You came with a shuddering whimper as you turned your head in an attempt to bury yourself in Josh’s shoulder.
The movie swells once more as the killer claims another victim, and your orgasm rolled through you, soaking Josh’s fingers.
“Good girl,” he whispered as you rode out your high. He eventually slowed to just rubbing gentle circles against your clit. When you slumped boneless against him, he withdrew his hand and popped his fingers into his mouth, tasting you.
As the credits roll, your friends shout various comments and criticisms at the screen.
“Great pick, Josh,” Jessica remarked, rolling her eyes.
Josh shrugged, and you attempted to school your features as your friend group turned to glance at the two of you.
“I don’t know, I think someone enjoyed it,” he replied.
feat. Victoria (Twilight)
ᯓ★ You belong to no one but Victoria. It seems not everyone realizes that.
warnings! : NSFW 18+, fem!reader, dom!victoria, sub!reader, vampire!reader, reader and victoria are mates, no james x victoria, possessiveness/ownership, mentioned sexual harassment (from james), boot worship, praise, pussy worship, fingering, masturbation (f!receiving), cunnilingus
ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3
“I don’t like that smell on you.”
You gasp and pivot at that all too familiar voice. “Victoria! I was just coming to find you!”
“What happened?” The question comes out as more of a demand.
“James, he—” she pulls you to her, leaning down and inhaling your scent even more deeply.
“James. I should have known.” She pulls away and glares down at you. “I told you to stay away from him.
“I tried!” You plead. “But he followed me into town. Cornered me when I was scoping out the locals and it caused a scene.” You scowl. “We lost our meal because of him.”
James was always an annoyance for you. He was fascinated in constantly tracking you down, as you had the gift of teleportation and could vanish to any place as long as you knew the exact coordinates of it.
You and Victoria joined James in forming his coven, as he found the powers you both possessed useful. But lately he had been overstepping, making passes at you despite you being Victoria’s mate.
Victoria had been furious when you told her, and you were just barely able to prevent your coven from being torn apart.
But now, whatever she wanted to do to him, you wouldn’t stop her.
“Found you.”
You jump as James finally approaches, a wicked smirk on his face. “I could smell you miles away.”
Victoria steps in front of you, a hand held out to hold you behind her and out of his view. “Have you no respect? She is my mate.”
His expression doesn’t drop. “You know I always like a chase.” His beady eyes bore into you, and you glare back and tighten your grip on Victoria’s fur shawl. You bare your teeth, but Victoria stops you before you can get any more confrontational.
“Perhaps James needs a reminder of what he cannot have.”
Her tone holds an air of arrogance mixed with authority. You immediately understand what she’s getting at, that she wants James to know the hold she has over you.
Without another word, you drop to your knees, leaning into Victoria. You run your hands up and down her legs, awaiting her next command.
She holds her foot that sports a heeled, leather boot. “Lick it.”
You obey, bowing your head to her foot. You kiss the steel toe first, before trailing kisses down the side. You glance up at Victoria through your lashes and preen at the approval in her gaze.
As your focus stays on her boot, Victoria speaks up again, but she doesn’t talk to you. “Do you see how she listens?”
If James responds, you don’t hear it.
Victoria shoves the pointed tip of her boot into your mouth. You hold back a gag at the sudden intrusion and begin to suck on it, bobbing your head back and forth.
“She will lick the earth I walk beneath if I wish for it.”
She’s completely right. You move to do just as so, but Victoria stops you with a slight shake of her head. She pulls her boot back, and pets the top of your head.
“Pleasure me,” she purrs.
You move to undo her pants, and take a second to glance up at Victoria, her orange curls wildly framing her face like a halo. You pout as you notice her attention has turned away from you.
Instead, she stares at James, challenging him, daring him to do something. He remains in place, fists clenched at his side.
You only pull her pants down enough to expose her clothed mound to you. You bury your face into her, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
Her wetness stains her panties, and you lick her through the thin fabric. She moans under her breath and rests a hand atop your head, both as a guide and a sign of approval.
Her reaction only eggs you on. You shift her panties to the side and begin to pleasure her with your mouth, relishing in both the scent and the taste of her essence. Flicking your tongue inside of her, you play with her clit to provide additional stimulation.
Victoria’s hand on your head tightens. “You always know how to best please me without me telling you.” Her eyes flick up to James. Anger wafts off of him and the smell is so pungent that you bury your face farther into Victoria to try your best to avoid it.
You tease a finger inside of her entrance, getting her off with both the digit and your tongue. You curl your finger inside of her as your tongue reaches a particularly deep spot and she hums in approval.
Your pace increases, and you feel her quiver against your tongue. “There you go,” she croons, “you’re doing so well for me.”
Her praise has you reaching for your own entrance, already wet from being able to service Victoria. You toy with yourself, and you're so sensitive that you bring yourself to orgasm within minutes.
You moan against Victoria, and the vibrations from your sounds of pleasure have her following you quickly after as her peak rushes forward. You lap up the juices from her release with enthusiasm.
As she comes down from her orgasm, she signals you to stop with a small squeeze of your shoulder. You allow your hands to linger on her skin as you delicately slide her bottoms back up as they were before.
“I believe you understand your place now,” Victoria says, her voice edged with a low growl. “Leave us, and do not return.”
James stares her down at first, jaw clenched, before grunting and turning away, running off and leaving you two alone in the forest.
“What about the coven?” you whisper, pulling yourself up off the ground.
She silences you with a gentle kiss to your lips. “I am being generous by letting him leave peacefully. But he knows what happens if he tries anything with you again. It will be his last hunt.” She places a palm against your cheek. “We have survived on our own for years and we will continue to do so.”
You nod in agreement. “And where will we go?”
She looks out into the forest pensively. “There are rumors of large covens claiming territory in the Pacific Northwest. I want to indulge my curiosity.”
You nod and wrap your arms around her waist with no protest. Wherever Victoria goes, so would you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
╰› 〖 𝐹𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 〗 : Josh gets handsy while you and the gang watch a cheesy horror flick
𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 ⇢ 【 𝐽𝑜ℎ𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 】
╰› 〖 𝐻𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑥 〗 : You were his muse, or so he claimed.
𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝐵𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒? ⇢ 【 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑆𝑤𝑎𝑛 】
╰› 〖 𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑑 〗 : You find yourself in the strong, capable arms of Charlie Swan after you find out your best friend got married, had a baby, and looks completely different
𝐻𝑒𝑦, 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 ⇢ 【 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑡𝑜𝑛 】
╰› 〖 𝑃𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑘/𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑥 〗 : The walls to your apartment were thin. Thin enough to hear Steve calling your name as he finishes
𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐻𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 ⇢ 【 𝐴𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛 】
╰› 〖 𝐶𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 〗 : Arthur always managed to get in trouble, and it was your job to take care of him when he did
𝑊𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 ⇢ 【 𝐶𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛 𝑅𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑑 】
╰› 〖 𝐽𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑒𝑥 〗 : You never did like people touching what's yours
𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑀𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 ⇢ 【 𝐺𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛 𝑅𝑒𝑒𝑑 】
╰› 〖 𝐷𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑆𝑒𝑥/𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑛𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎 〗 : You discover the perks of waking up next to Gavin Reed
𝑅𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑀𝑦 𝑊𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 ⇢ 【 𝑆𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑅𝑒𝑒𝑑 】
╰› 〖 𝐶𝑎𝑟 𝑆𝑒𝑥 〗 : Rule #1 of merc life: Never screw your coworkers. Unfortunately, you were never good at following rules.
𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑠 ⇢ 【 𝐽𝑜𝑠ℎ 𝑊𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑡𝑜𝑛 】
╰› 〖 𝑂𝑢𝑡𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟 𝑆𝑒𝑥 〗 : What kind of boyfriend would Josh be if he didn't keep you warm in the snow?
