#I age like milk instead of wine

[sheloveschai]

bathing with ambessa (18+)

dom! ambessa x fem! reader

older woman/younger woman, slight exhibitionism, thigh-riding, sub! reader

i cannot get this woman out of my head sitting on her lap (or her face) would solve so many of my problems URRGGHHH

“breathe, child.”

water sloshes against the sides of the luxurious bathing pool- a shuddered gasp echos back off the blue and gold mosaic walls of the room.

a bead of sweat rolls down your spine as a partially nude worker dumps another vessel of water near your bodies, and with it, a veil of steam rises giving the illusion of intimate privacy from the guards on standby.

ambessa, in all her esteemed glory, lounges lazily with her head tipped back over the edge of the pool- a warm cloth draped over her eyes. a goblet, which lays in a large rugged hand, is filled near to the brim with a rich red wine.

the other rests on the hollow of your throat- a calloused thumb ever so gently brushing over your slick skin.

“good, little one,” the warlord practically purrs. a grin graces her lips as she feels your hands slip from her shoulders and down to her submerged abdomen, your hands pressing against her scarred v-line for leverage.

her hand, in return, glides from your throat, over your shoulder, before disappearing down under the water to rest on the curve of your rocking hips- not guiding, not pushing, just to simply rest upon.

“such a needy little thing,” she hums. “taking what you so desire.”

a shaky exhale escapes your lips at her words. her low and husky voice adding to your sinuous desires. your nails ever so slightly dig into her intimidating physique as your cunt throbs in need.

with your slick folds spread open over the impressive muscle of her thigh, your clit rubs deliciously over the bumps and ridges of her battle-won scars.

your wanton gasps and whines ring throughout as your head tips forward in deadweight- causing your gaze to connect with the older woman’s breasts.

just beneath the water you can make out her soft nipples. her breasts are heavy and ripened with age, and though not littered with scars won over battles, stretch marks ripple over them like hieroglyphs seen carved into ancient monumental displays.

your hand moves quicker than your brain and suddenly you’re cupping one of her breasts, raising it up and out of the water- exposing it to the colder air. you practically watch in awe as her dark nipple hardens between your fingers as you press and flatten the heavy globe against her chest.

and without a second thought, you’re lurching forward and enveloping her nipple into your warm mouth. you would’ve swallowed her whole if you could’ve, but instead you resort to swirling the sensitive bud around your tongue; licking, nipping, sucking as though you were trying to milk her.

“look at you,” ambessa rasps, a hint of humor underlaying her lust. “starving for my body. my, you’d do anything to have a taste, wouldn’t you, child?”

a low groan rumbles out of ambessa’s chest at the feeling of the scrape of your teeth, the wet heat of your tongue. in an effort to take more of her breast into your mouth, your knee presses against the slick folds of her cunt as you slide further down her thigh.

and the fearsome warlords back, ever so slightly, arches off the edge of the tub.

“like a kitten in heat, you are” she taunts, though there is no covering how she bucks her hips up in order to grind her aching pussy against you.

she begins to move in time with you, the friction your knee provided sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

her position of leisure and relaxation did not slip, though. with her legs still spread wide, head tilted back, ambessa had the clear headedness to bring her steel goblet up to her lips without spilling a drop of the red liquid.

with an air of authority, she licks the remnants from her now stained mouth, stretching her arm back over the edge of the pool to set the cup down- without a tremor to be seen.

with both of her hands now free, she removes the cloth from her face, revealing her dark lust-stricken gaze.

her hand slowly delves between your legs, separating your slick cunt from her thigh. she teases you for a moment, smirking as she rubs your aching nub with a feather-light touch, before pressing a digit to your entrance.

“there you go, sweet girl,” ambessa praises, sliding another thick digit along her first, your walls fluttering around the intruding appendages. “now you may have my touch.”

her thumb continues to rub slowly circles on your clit as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“cum for me” she murmurs huskily as she gazes down at your desperate form still suckling at her tit. “show me how my body brings you pleasure.”

she could feel your body tensing, your muscles coiling tight as she worked her fingers inside you. she could tell you were close, the way you desperately clung to her- the way your walls squeezed around her, urging her deeper.

and it wasn’t until she curled them just right, hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars, did you cum.

your body convulsed, muscles squeezing around her fingers as wave after wave of pleasure came crashing down upon you. ambessa held you close as you rode out your orgasm. your body shook, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

she could practically feel your heart pounding against her chest. and as you slowly came down from your high, you pressed soft kisses and licks into the bitten skin of her breast.

“enough, child” she grunts, finally pulling you away from her raw nipple. “i desire your mouth elsewhere now.”

[pupyuj]

→ “cherry on top.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— gifting your girlfriend a beautiful (and expensive) necklace was going to be the perfect way to end the last night of your winter getaway but with the necklace being forgotten all the way back to your shared apartment, wonyoung decides on the next best thing…

word count: 3.7k.

dynamic: dom!jang wonyoung x sub!actress!reader.

warnings: age gap, reader is older, lots of biting and marking, fingering, mommy kink, praise kink, hair pulling, reader being an actress doesn't really play a big part lol, wonyoung is down horrendous, wony is also lowkey into pain like whoa!

requested?: nope.

a/n: fun fact, i wanted to drop this fic around/on christmas but ofc, i didn’t have enough time so i just made it winter-themed instead 😭 i would have loved to actually drop something from my wip list that's actually been there for a while but since this ended up being a short one, i decided to go with it instead! i hope you guys like it though! i know it's not my best work ever BUT this will be a nice little step to get me back to my writing machine roots 😎😎

“i really don’t know why i’m doing all of this. it’s really nothing special,” you shared a giggle with your girlfriend, wonyoung, as you guided her along the hallways. you made her wear your favorite sleeping mask to completely obscure her vision for the sole reason of surprising her with what you have spent quite a bit of time setting up earlier in the afternoon. wonyoung, despite her excitement, takes her next steps carefully. she didn’t want a stupid incident to take attention away from what you so obviously worked hard on. “but i think this is the best way to end our little trip.” you halted her steps, giving her a soft kiss from behind her shoulder and finally lifting up the mask.

wonyoung blinks several times to have her eyes adjust to the lights that illuminated the lodge. what she saw in the living room area was a humble picnic set up! soft sheets lay on the center of the room (wonyoung noticed that you pushed the coffee table aside for space) accompanied with a few pillows, a wicker basket filled with pasties, wine, and other snacks was sitting right beside it along with a bouquet of pink tulips, and right on the sheets was your laptop with Clueless more than ready to start playing.

“oh, unnie, this is wonderful!” wonyoung whips around and squeezes you for a tight hug. you returned the embrace with the same amount of love, even going as far as to giving a kiss to the side of her head. wonyoung proceeded on tugging you over at your little set-up and sat you down. one would think that you ended world hunger with the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you tried to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach—guilt. because as lovely as this was, this trip should not be ending like this. you had something far better planned! but you should have expected with the way you and wonyoung rushed to start the trip that you would forget the most important item that you would be gifting her—the prettiest diamond necklace that even made a successful and rich actress like yourself sweat with how expensive it was. 

but you weren’t going to tell wonyoung about the dent it made on your bank account, like ever. anyhow, you realized that you completely forgot about the necklace on the previous night. you weren’t able to sleep much since something in the back of your mind was screaming at you to check your bags and make sure everything was perfect for the next day and alas, the necklace was nowhere to be found! if wonyoung hadn’t been sleeping peacefully, you would have screamed out of pure frustration at yourself!

there was no use crying over spilt milk, however. and so, you spent the rest of that nearly-sleepless night thinking up of ways to end the trip on a good note even without the necklace. a cute indoor picnic was the idea you liked the most, and now that you’ve seen how much wonyoung appreciates it, perhaps the idea wasn’t too bad. the next problem to tackle was explaining all the trouble you went through to set this all up to wonyoung, but maybe that should be saved for until you’re both too buzzed to care about anything else.

“i hope you don’t think this is boring compared to everything we’ve been doing for the past week, love.” you said as you filled up two glasses with wonyoung’s favorite white wine. (upon noticing this, wonyoung couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. maybe it was painfully simple of her to fawn over the fact that you remembered her favorite drink because it was the bare minimum considering you’ve been dating for years now, but it is as they say: it’s the little things! so, do pardon wonyoung for falling in love with you just a little bit deeper.) a surprised sound escapes your lips when you feel your girlfriend pressing her lips on your jawline, but then you laugh at how her hair tickled your skin.

when wonyoung leaned back and saw that she left a faint kiss mark on your jawline, she let out a satisfied smile. “what do you mean? this is lovely, unnie.” wonyoung can’t even remember all the times she has wished for one relaxing day with you, so she was beyond thankful that she had a whole week of just that. with her being a bigger idol than ever and you jumping from project to project, naturally neither of you had too much time to be together recently. but at least you were luckier than most celebrity couples who can’t even see each other at all! mostly because of their management that just refuses to give them time together. you and wonyoung were blessed with family, friends, and teams that supported your relationship so both of you made sure to enjoy this little trip with everything it had to offer.

“well, between skiing, having lunch in an observation deck atop the mountain, seeing the northern lights, and a picnic with some movies, which one would be more appealing to you?” you asked, leaning back on the pillows. almost automatically, you wrapped a single arm around wonyoung’s waist and pulled her closer to you.

“anything’s good with me as long as i’m with you. how’s that?” wonyoung replies with a grin, knowing she successfully made you cringe in your seat.

you laughed, shaking your head. “ew. cornball.”

the next three hours were a blur. thanks to wonyoung who was clearly having the time of her life, the two bottles of wine were finished relatively quickly. she had begged you to get just one more bottle, using everything in her power to convince you from fluttering her eyelashes, pouting, kissing you, and whispering naughty promises in your ear. as much as you didn’t want to wake up with a hangover, you couldn’t resist wonyoung. especially when all you could see in her eyes every time you looked at her was love!

surprisingly enough, wonyoung was… quiet. when she gets drunk, she’s usually so chatty and giggly. laughing at everything and nothing, sometimes she even turns into a whole pervert! inappropriate comments and all! but tonight, it seems like being in your embrace, basking in your scent, and listening to your heartbeat as she lay her head on your chest was everything she needed to be content. you turn your head steadily towards her, careful not to startle her away from your warmth. her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed and gotten… heavier? was she asleep? well! that wasn’t how you expected your picnic night to go.

that is until you felt fingers sneak inside your hand-knit sweater, as well as plump lips pressed against your collarbone. a whimper accidentally escapes your lips at the cold sensation of wonyoung’s hand, and you can just tell that that was a sound you should not have allowed to come out of your mouth.

“you’re so sweet, (y/n)-unnie,” wonyoung was positively drunk! her cheeks were glaringly pink and a lazy smile spread across her face while she looked up at you from your shoulder. gods, she was adorable. but you didn’t have the time to revel in that fact when she suddenly straddles your lap, her long legs wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place. with nowhere to go, you were forced to look up at her this time. “planning this entire vacation behind my back, paying for everything and strongly refusing whenever i offered, giving me the best getaway of my life… why are you so perfect?”

“it’s what you deserve, wonyoung-ah.” your reply fell from your lips smoothly as if it was the only right answer to her question. and it really was.

wonyoung playfully rolled her eyes, “so do you. but i got distracted by how much thought you put into this entire vacation that i couldn’t think up of anything to make it up to you! except for one thing, of course…” you didn’t miss how wonyoung’s tongue swiftly brushed across her upper lip and how her smile now turned into something akin to a sly grin. her eyes spelled out her plan without needing the help of her words to which you adorably and pathetically blushed at upon realization.

“n-not everything is perfectly planned… i mean, this really wasn’t how i wanted to spend our last night here together! i was going to take you to the nearby town, have a candlelit dinner with the prettiest view of the frozen river and the snowy mountains, and… i was going to give you a—”

“—a necklace, right?” wonyoung cuts you off. (on the night you found out that the necklace was nowhere to be found, wonyoung was woken up by the sounds of your frustrated and heartbroken rants to one of your friends over the phone. you had no idea she heard everything. she made sure to hold you extra tight when you returned to bed in hopes of making you feel better. and naturally, it worked.)  you pouted as you nod your head, once again feeling sad about how careless you were on the day you both set off on your vacation.

“i couldn’t believe i forgot to grab it… and i didn’t realize that i never brought it with us until yesterday! so you can imagine the stress i was under this entire day while i tried to set this all up!” you sighed deeply after your little rant. you pulled wonyoung close, putting your head in her chest as she consoled you. she couldn’t hold her laughter due to the sheer amount of cuteness aggression she was feeling over your whining, but she made sure to pat your back and kiss the top of your head.

“that explains why you abruptly left me by myself in the skating rink this afternoon! and why you came back all disheveled and out of breath! oh, unnie…” wonyoung only laughs harder when you tighten your hold around her waist—you were clearly embarrassed by your antics from earlier, but wonyoung thinks it’s so cute. you were older and wiser than her, but there are days where your childish and adorable side slips out and wonyoung thinks it’s so, so charming. and the way you don’t realize it makes it all ten times better. makes you ten times more… desirable. irresistible.

wonyoung starts to kiss you from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your jawline… until she finally reaches your neck where she liked to just take you in and relish at how you shuddered at her actions, “necklace or not, the night would have ended up exactly the same… you did all this for me, and i would love to do things for you in return. many things.” you don’t realize that she reached behind you and undid the perfect ribbons she herself tied up for you. not until you felt her fingers drag across your now exposed skin while simultaneously giving your neck the softest kisses you’ve ever received.

“will you let me?”

she didn’t even need to ask. and she didn’t need to hear an answer from you. kissing her with never-before-seen passion was enough of a confirmation from you. wonyoung appreciates how you always allowed her to have control whenever things escalated. both of you knew you were too clueless about all this, but fortunately wonyoung wasn’t.

and thank heavens for that.

wonyoung tugs gently on your hair with one hand and holds your jaw tightly with the other, deepening the kiss, practically shoving her tongue inside your mouth and establishing dominance early on just because she so loves feeling the moment you submit to her. it happens when your shoulders relax, your hands fall on her thighs, and your hips desperately grind towards hers to quench your thirst. it’s a massive ego boost and if it wasn’t for you, wonyoung would feed on it until it consumed her… but she doesn’t allow that to happen. not anymore.

you deserve the utmost care and love and that was what she wanted to give you. what she will give you.

“mmhn.. wonyoung…” who would’ve thought that the brilliant young actress that the entire nation adores for her kind heart, bright-as-the-stars smile and unrivaled poise would elicit such sounds for a lover? but then again, jang wonyoung is not just any lover, is she?

wonyoung pulls your top over your head and tosses it elsewhere. she refused to believe that it was the wine that made you look a thousand times more delectable than usual, but rather, she accepted that you were just that stunning. with your hair unkempt in the most perfect way, your lip tint a mess on your face, chest heaving up and down, eyes clouded with longing… and the cherry on top? seeing that you were wearing the bra that wonyoung got you a few months back.

the younger girl bites her bottom lip at the sight, “please, have some patience.” whether wonyoung said that to you or to her very own hunger for you was unclear. she repositions herself so that she was now on all fours, her lips attached to yours once again but now… you had her hands on her. you wanted to feel her skin on yours, but wonyoung had plans of her own. she ignores your needy whines and your desperate attempts to undress her with great difficulty and continues on making a mess of your mind using her lips alone.

eventually, you were sitting on the couch while wonyoung was on her knees in front of you. your bra had been cast aside as well, leaving you fully topless. what a sight to behold, really. wonyoung spots a faint hickey on your collarbone, the one that she remembers putting there herself when she couldn’t help it after you both arrived at the lodge. there was another one on your shoulder which looked a lot more recent—that was from when she dragged you into the shower with her two days ago, and she was particularly proud of that one too!

you held wonyoung’s stare as her hand traveled slowly from your chest to your stomach. she was teasing you. enticing you to make a desperate action just so she can shut it down and hear you beg… but you know her game, and you don’t feel like playing it this time. besides, she asked you to ‘have some patience’! you weren’t one to disobey when she asked so nicely.

lifting your hips, wonyoung successfully got your shorts off of you and left them to fall at your ankles. “aww, you’re all ready for me.” wonyoung said smugly, staring at the wet spot on your underwear. add that to the list of things wonyoung finds so adorable about you; you can get riled up so easily, it’s sometimes unbelievable. and yet, you were never too needy and would rather wait for wonyoung to initiate something. she almost hated how patient you can really be, but hey, she was the one who asked for it!

“a-are you sure we should be doing this without closing the c-curtains—i mean, what if someone… some…” your words trail off, having been distracted with the way wonyoung gently presses her fingertips against your clothed clit and rubs very slow circles on it. and all of a sudden you didn’t care anymore. the mild shrubbery in front of the lodge was enough of a cover, you suppose.

“hm? what was that, unnie?”

“nothing.. noth—ah!” you squeak after wonyoung unexpectedly pressed hard on your clit, but cover your mouth immediately. but it’s not like anyone would hear, anyway. all of the other lodges are quite a distance away and you would have to be screaming for them to hear you and that, wonyoung feels, is quite timely because that was exactly what she wanted to do. as if it wasn’t obvious already, wonyoung has been a lot more head-over-heels for you than usual. she truly believes that she was falling in love with you all over again and the last time that happened, wonyoung had to run after you as you were leaving an event just to tell you about all about the feelings she has had for you. of course, that led to the wonderful relationship you have now… but just what else can wonyoung do this time?

“come here.” she pulls you in for a kiss. it was softer this time but it wasn’t any less passionate than the last. it almost felt like a reminder that even though her heart was on fire, wonyoung will still take care of you and you know what? that was basically the only reassurance that you needed to completely submit.

soon enough, your panties joined the pile of your clothes on the ground. wonyoung had started attacking your neck, her lips latching onto every inch of your skin and leaving lovely red marks in her wake. you’d tell her to be careful not to make them too red, or not to leave too much if it didn’t feel so good, if the way wonyoung’s fingers wasn’t so distracting with just how much she was teasing you. oh, to hell with it—you start grinding against her hand, paying no mind to how wonyoung couldn’t help but break into a smile while she worked her lips down to your chest. she wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as you can be to her before catching one of your nipples in her mouth.

your hands dig through wonyoung’s beautiful hair while your moans fill the warm, empty air. it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to anything at this point. all you can hear was wonyoung’s soft moans and heavy breathing, and it reminded you of how much you would have loved to switch roles and please her yourself, but wonyoung was sweet enough to take charge and you need this. “mmn… mommy, open up for me… please?” the younger girl whispered against your skin. you lift one leg up, giving wonyoung all the access she wanted and more. 

you leaned further back on the cushions of the couch as wonyoung inserted two fingers inside you. she was slow, careful. she always gave you chances to back out if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do any of this with her. and once she knew that you truly wanted this, she allowed herself to relax and start her work. although, her steady pace didn’t last long—each second that passed, she only thrusted faster, wanting to hear you moan over and over again. she kept glancing up from your chest, looking at your expressions and smiling to herself while she alternated between sucking on your tits and leaving marks all over them. not having had enough of it all, you started rocking your hips towards the younger girl’s hand, desperately chasing after even more pleasure.

occasionally, wonyoung would wince at how hard you tugged at her hair. she knows you don’t do it on purpose and she does like it, plus it gives her reason to, say, ‘get back at you’ by biting your skin and making you wince. and it was when she bit on your collarbone that you moaned her name wonderfully. pride surges within wonyoung. more, she wanted, and faster she went. her fingers reached deeper than they ever have before and out of your mouth came sounds wonyoung was hearing for the first time, so she kept it up.

“tell me,” wonyoung says. you hear her, but you don’t respond. “am i doing goo—mmpf!” you silenced wonyoung by quickly pulling her hair and crashing your lips together. your free hand clutches on her shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into the skin exposed by her off-shoulder blouse.

“yes…! hmnn… you’re being so good, love…” you answered as your lips briefly parted hers. wonyoung, overwhelmed by adrenaline, moans at the praise. she was soaking wet herself; her core ached for attention and your praises, your lips, and your tightness wasn’t making anything easy for her. but oh, sweet and selfless wonyoung wouldn’t stop pleasing you just as you’re about to reach your climax just so she can get off instead. she hides her face on the crook of your neck, now stimulating your clit with her thumb and driving you into a frenzy.

“i love you so much, unnie… i’ll make it up to you properly later on but—hah… but for now,” wonyoung releases your waist from her hold and places her hand behind your other thigh before pushing your leg back. “cum for me.” she mutters right against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine before you succumb and the knot in your stomach breaks. wonyoung held you as you came, trying her very hardest not to cum with you because not only will that be embarrassing but also because surely you would tease her for cumming untouched!

wonyoung pulled her fingers out of you once you were calm again. you smile at her as you didn’t have the energy to speak just yet… nor did you have the energy to do anything else at all. while wonyoung was busy cleaning up her fingers (using her mouth, naturally), you just so happened to notice that she had her legs closed a bit too tightly, and her face was flushed way beyond normal. and then, you knew. your poor, darling angel needed you too!

you went on to move yourself back down on the mattress on the floor, then, you took a hold of wonyoung’s sleeve and pulled her down with you as you lay yourself down on your back. wonyoung was confused, albeit being totally into whatever you were planning. it was when you slid a leg in between her thighs and pressed it against her throbbing core that she knew. and oh, was she ready. 

you tucked wonyoung’s hair behind her ear, and warmth blooms inside your chest when she smiles at you, “let’s make this night last, wonyoung-ah.” you mumbled as you placed a soft kiss on her nose.

“whatever you want, my love.”

well, turns out you really didn’t need that necklace, after all.

[nappingmoon]

I think the way to higuruma’s heart is through acts of service.

wc: 1.3k

the first time you wake up in higuruma's bed is the day after you meet him. he's still sound asleep, and he looks like he needs it, so you let him rest while you get up. when confronted with the choice of slipping out the door or staying, you don't think twice. you make your way into his kitchen, and it's clean-- simple in a way that is just so him. you grab two mugs and get started on a pot of coffee.

you’re not too familiar with him yet; unsure of how he takes it, so you make a simple batch of black coffee and decide to wait to ask him, finding you like the idea of learning along the way.

when higuruma walks into the kitchen, still groggy and hair tussled, it takes him a moment to digest what he’s seeing. he blinks slowly, eyes adjusting to the light pouring in from the window. you’ve got a cup in your hands, full and still steaming, while another sits empty to the side.

“I didnt know if liked sugar and milk in your coffee, or I would’ve brought you some in bed, handsome.” you say, lips just hovering over the lip of your cup. you place it down softly on the coaster and stretch for a moment before grabbing his and turning around, filling it with the rest of the brew. you call out over your shoulder, asking for the instructions to his preferred tastes, but are met with silence. you turn.

“h-” he starts, but seems unsure of how to finish. “how did you figure out the coffee machine?” he asks, and you both know it’s not the question that was supposed to come out. why are you doing this? why are you still here? most of his other endeavors have always fled in the morning, the bed cold and the house empty by the time he awakes. he felt the connection between the two of you last night, but normally the people he pursue leave without a trace, and he’s gotten used to it. it’s what he knows. so why are you in his t shirt, sipping from his mug, and acting like this is normal? why does he find himself wishing it was?

“there’s only four buttons on here, and one is for the clock. you don’t think me so simple, do you?” you tease with a smile.

no, he doesn’t. quite the opposite, in fact. he thinks you’re brilliant. you had met at a bar downtown and talked and talked, the tension eased by a few fruity cocktails. taken by your wit and humor immediately, he found himself inviting you over to extend the night a little, maybe have a glass of wine or two. not entirely surprisingly, you ended up in his sheets, all giggles and sloppy kisses and passionate touches. he fell asleep, sated and content with his limbs intertwined in yours.

instead of answering your question, he replies, “just a splash of milk, please.” 

your quirked brow betrays your skepticism. "not even a little sugar?" he seemed to have had the largest sweet tooth last night, if you correctly remember the sweet drinks that were downed absentmindedly between quips, stories, and touches that lingered just long enough to be more than friendly.

he's sheepish when he replies "i shouldn't, right? i have to limit my sugar somewhere or later down the line I am going to have to see my doctor more often and I am trying to avoid that. she's a scary lady."

he's not finished with his sentence before you tip in a small dash of sugar. "you're still in your early thirties. give it another decade or two before you start worrying about your blood sugar." you bring the mug over, bare feet padding softly on his hardwood floor as you approach. "i don't think a little sweetness in your life will kill you."

as he takes the mug from your hands, his fingers brush over yours. he doesn't look away from you eyes as he lifts the mug to his lips, but just before he takes a sip, he murmurs, "it might."

you hum and walk back over to where your mug sits on the counter. leaning against it, you ask, "how'd you sleep?"

"better than I have in ages," he replies, and his tone is oddly sincere. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"should I not have been?" though you try to sound confident and carefree, a light waver in your voice reveals the fear at the idea that you've gravely misunderstood him and embarrassed yourself to no end in the process.

your thoughts don't get to stray far, however, because he's quick to respond. "no, no. it was a pleasant surprise. you have been a truly pleasant surprise."

your cheeks warm and you suddenly find his cabinets fascinating. "you're not supposed to be smooth first thing in the morning, you know." you grumble.

he's closer now, directly in front of you, and he places his mug down, just to you right. as he retracts his hand, it comes up to tilt your chin back towards him.

he's so handsome it's unfair.

"i'm sorry, sweetness, can I make it up to you with some breakfast?" he asks, his voice entrancing and still thick with sleep. the gesture and the question leave you breathless, so you just nod affirmatively. he places a kiss to your temple before turning and digging around his fridge and grabbing the ingredients he needs to get started.

-

soon after that, you become a constant in his life. he hadn't planned on you as a part of his routine, but you just, fit. in the mornings he finds himself spending less time in the bathroom mirror fixing his suit. now he wakes up eager to get dressed and sit on the edge of his bed with his choice of tie, waiting for you to take your spot between his legs and tie it for him. seeing the furrow in your brow as you adjust it just right, fixing the collar and tugging on the lapels to make sure he's perfect, it all makes him swoon.

before you, his lunch couldn't even be considered a break. he would just pop open whatever prepackaged meal he had bought that day and eat it in between readings of contracts and reviews of cases. now, he leaves his office without fail, never missing the time to eat and listen to you talk about your day.

when his bouts of insomnia get worse, you're there to help him. the house starts to smell like lavender. you've got all kinds of melatonin gummies and you don't let him say no to a massage, first focusing on his temples and scalp, then laying him down to work the knots out of his back. he's snoring by the time you're halfway down.

when he gets really stressed and the pressure starts to get too much, he comes home to a quiet house. he finds you in the bathroom preparing a bath with salts and soaps. you usher him in, insisting on taking care of him- carding water and shampoo through his locks and providing him with a safer space than he's ever had in his life.

higuruma is a lawyer. he deals with people who spin words all day. lies, loopholes, and secrets are all imbedded in his quotidian conversations with clients and colleagues. you, however, don't ripen him up with flattery or kind words. you don't make promises you don't intend to keep and you don't mince and twist your words to use against him. you simply do what you think is right. your actions have captured him far more than any words alone could do. in return, to show you how much he has truly come to love and need you, he looks to what he knows best. contracts.

though, when he's down on one knee, the legalities of it mean nothing to him. all that is important in that moment, and for the rest of his life, his you.

[mactavishwritings]

Anything for my Bunny

Millionaire!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Trophy Wife!reader (fem reader)

alt universe where Simon isn't military, but the CEO of a high-tech company

fluff mainly with some sexual implications

You always had a theory as a young girl. You had decided at a young age that you were going to get what you wanted no matter what and your theory was that there was a way to go through life, getting everything you wanted one way or another. You got your education, a degree in English, deciding that you were going to move to England to pursue writing novels in beautiful cafes all day. That dream however died when you ended up working at the cafes instead of being the mysterious patron who sat at a table by the window, typing away on her laptop.

Your wish slowly began to come true when you met Simon Riley. When you met him, he was a handsome businessman who was in a bit of a rush. The other girls at the cafe called him 'Mr. Handsome Latte', standing around the corner, as you took his order. He had a reputation for being quiet or on an important-sounding phone call. You were never one to make assumptions, but there were a few you had about this mysterious businessman.

When he came in that day, he was uncharacteristically wearing a pair of athletic trainers and a plain grey shirt. He had his phone in his hand, not looking up at you until he got up to the register. "Hi welcome in. What can I get started for you today?" You started the conversation like you would with any other customer. "Hi. Can I just get my usual hot latte with an extra shot of espresso?" You nodded, taking his order down. "Sounds good. $4 then." You punched the latte into the register, waiting for him to pay for the drink when he suddenly spoke. "When do you get off today?" You stopped and looked up at the man. "Asks the name of a man whose name I do not know." You fired back, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Simon, you?" He paid for his drink and followed you down as you began to make his drink. "(Y/N)." You smiled, focusing back on his drink. "Well... Now that you know my name, what time do you get off today?" He persisted so you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "Okay fine. I get off at 6. Why do you want to know, Simon?" You turned your back to steam his milk but turned your head in his direction to let him know that you were still listening. "I'm picking you up and we're going out." He stated simply, causing you to whip your head around. "Excuse me? Why do you think this will happen?" You glared slightly. "Simple. I want to get to know you and I always get what I want." Damn...

-

You went out with him, but not that night. You played with him a bit before he finally convinced you to go out with him. You told him that he was going to have to work hard for what he wanted. You weren't easy to get and he would have to earn your affection. That's when you begin to receive gifts from Simon. All of the girls at work demanded to know why you turned him down or when you were going out with him; boasting about how you couldn't turn that type of man down. So, after receiving the fifth bundle of roses at your apartment, you finally called the number attached to the note on the flowers. He sounded satisfied when he heard your voice. "I told you; I get what I want."

He had completely wined and dined you that night, sweeping you off your feet. The night had taken your breath away and you felt like a teenage girl. So, when he asked you to go out again, you didn't hesitate this time. You began to spend more time with the man, feeling yourself fall slowly in love with who he was as a person. You learned that yes, he was on important calls because he owns one of the tech's world biggest companies. He didn't like talking about work with you, stating that he would rather shut that stuff away when with you, not wanting to interrupt your time together. It had been 3 weeks of seeing each other when he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had told him that you had been waiting for him to ask you, immediately saying yes.

-

After a year of dating, he asked you to move in. You were excited because he had a big bathtub and that was enough for you. You were still working at the time and while he never said it out loud, you could tell he wanted you to quit and let him take care of the financials. You wanted to still be independent. It was year 2 when Simon came to you with an offer. You would quit your job and he would set up a side account for you where he would give you a 'paycheck'. You would act as an assistant of sorts for him; meaning that you would bring him lunch every day. You agreed, seeing how much it meant to him.

Year 3 was when he proposed. You had gotten comfortable in the giant mansion that you called home. The staff that occupied as well made you uncomfortable at first, but you slowly warmed up to them. Especially when they told stories about Simon, both embarrassing and sweet. Most of them have been with Simon since he started his company, staying with him through all the frustration and triumph he has seen.

You were starting to get close to some of the staff, the main person who you interacted with was a woman named Nancy. Simon instructed her to help you with whatever you needed the first night you stayed the night and you two have been side by side ever since. She became like a second mother for you, helping with sickness and emotions. She knew the proposal was coming long before you did.

Now 5 years later, you couldn’t be more happy. Simon gave you everything you could’ve ever wanted. He often was gone on work trips but always made sure he brought home something for you. Often times, small trinkets. Keychains, figurines, or cups. You loved every one and kept them on your desk at home. You hadn’t given up on your writing dream just because you had become Mrs. Riley. It was one of your few conditions to the marriage. You wanted something separate from Simon and he respected it completely.

As a 5th wedding anniversary present, Simon bought you a new house near the beach and you spent most of your days sitting in your office, staring out of the ceiling-to-floor windows. You were sitting in your desk chair, a cup of coffee in your hands, robe hanging off your shoulder. Simon had been sent away on a work trip and you missed him dearly. He didn’t know when he was going to come back and it killed you, having to wait without a date. He typically knew when he was going to be back, but he had a big launch coming soon and he needed to perfect everything. Nancy had asked you if you were hungry for breakfast and you had told her that you weren’t feeling up to eating. Lately, you seemed to have lost your appetite and you weren't sure why. You felt fine otherwise, figuring that it was just from the stress of Simon not being home.

You pulled your robe back over your shoulder and sighed. Reaching for your phone, there had been no new texts from Simon. You hadn't heard from him all day yesterday and you were getting worried. You rubbed your forehead and felt your stomach churn. You couldn't help but think the worst. You got lost in your head, staring out at the rising sun and crashing waves when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You gasped and looked up, seeing Simon smiling softly at you. "Si! You scared me!" You felt his hand ride up to rub the back of your neck up to your hair. He leaned down to kiss your forehead softly. "My apologies, love." He came around the front of your chair and knelt down to kiss your exposed knee. "I hadn't heard from you yesterday and I didn't know if you were okay." You pouted, running your fingers through his hair.

"Good thing I got you this then. As an apology." He lifted up a small bag and you giggled, taking it in your lap. You pulled out a box and opened it to reveal a very dainty pearl necklace. You gasped and immediately demanded for him to put it on you. Simon placed it on you and locked the clasp, kissing your cheek before standing in front of you. "I have to make up for lost time. Come."

-

That night, after you finished catching up, you both had showered and lounged around all day. For dinner, you two sat at the dining table as you requested, having to remind Simon that you could, in fact, feed yourself. Simon could barely keep his hands to himself as he told you about this recent trip. He told you about how well the launch went and how his new secretary was a "complete psycho who clearly lied during the interview". You nodded along to his words, playing with his fingers as he spoke.

"By the way, in 2 weeks, we're hosting a party here." Simon casually told you and you smacked his arm. "How am I going to prep in only 2 weeks!" You whined, already grabbing your notebook to plan. "I know, my love. It just came up, I only just agreed to it two days ago." He kissed your hand apologetically and smiled. You rolled your eyes, already forgetting your fake anger. “It's fine. I've got a reputation for being the best hostess!" Simon nodded along to your words, smiling as if he had hearts in his eyes. "Whatever you need, I'll leave my card for you. You know the pin." You giggled, knowing that the pin was your birthday.

You picked up the empty plates and walked them to the kitchen, smiling when you felt Simon wrap himself around you from behind. "Missed you...my hand was barely enough.." Simon whispered in your ear, gently kissing your neck. You gasped, feeling his hands slip under your slip dress. "Si! Someone could walk in!" You giggled as he lifted you up onto the countertop. "Oh, Mrs. Riley...I paid for this house. I will enjoy my dessert in my kitchen." He smirked as he knelt between your legs.

-

i loved this idea and would love to expand on it! so feel free to send asks about this <3

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Pearls

pairing: sugar mommy rhaenyra x reader x alicent age warning: 18+ only! interactions alternate universe: modern au, sugar mommy au summary: Three women, two purses and one whirlwind affair behind your best friend's back. It was never supposed to go past your uni accommodation but suddenly a set of pearls look very appealing...will you bite the bait? warnings & kinks: edging, mommy kink, cunnilingus, light bondage, strap-on pronouns: she/her anatomy: afab parts: 1, 2, 3 /? dividers by: cafekitsune wordcount: 3,354

A/N: okay i know this is probably a lot later than you expected but it's here! i feel kinda nervous about posting again since it's been quite a long while since i posted a finished one-shot so interaction is very welcome and i hope you enjoy 😭 ♡ okay also the feather won't entirely make sense unless you have seen what it is based on which is this

do not interact if you are under 18

It’s not anxiety that twists in her gut as Rhaenyra Targaryen sits in the parlour. She sighs and swishes the deep red wine in her mouth. It runs over her tongue like the embodiment of wet desire. She relishes the slight bitterness but anticipation is stirring in her gut. She pouts childishly at the crystal glass cup while she listens (barely) to Alicent rearranging her cupboards in the kitchen. “–it blatantly does not make sense for your mugs to be in the same place as Joffrey’s cereal. We do not want to give him another excuse to try his coffee versus milk experiment. I don’t even want to comprehend where Daemon has put hi–” “She’s not here yet.” Rhaenyra interrupts with a whine and tosses her head back. Alicent rolls her eyes and checks her watch. 18:45 pm. She scoffs at her jittery lover. “It isn’t even seven yet. What university students do you know that are on-time? Certainly not Jacaerys and definitely not Aegon! I’m lucky that Daeron is taking an apprenticeship.” “But she is always early, it’s one of the things I like about her.” Alicent raises her brows. “That she is early?” “Yes!” Alicent’s hands rest on her hips and she sighs. “Because she is early, you want to drag those little screams out of her?” Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, which is the moment her girlfriend begins to pounce. Alicent leans closer to the aristocrat, the run of her cleavage following her. “Because she is early, your fingers slither up her thighs?” “Yes!” Rhaenyra’s eyes make contact with Alicent’s bosom as she exclaims her answer. Silence pitters before a snort escapes the woman with chestnut hair and Rhaenyra begins to smirk in amusement. Alicent slowly cups her lover’s face, tilting it upward. A teasing grin tilts Rhaenyra’s lips. “I love you.” She says slowly. “I love you too.” The Targaryen returns the sentiment with a lilt before Alicent dips down to kiss her pink lips. Alicent’s long nails glide up Rhaenyra’s jaw. “Good.” She breathes into her mouth, tongue preparing to slip past the seam of her lips but then just as she is teetering the edge, a familiar bell sounds. Instead of lessening the tension, it encourages it. The grin transfers. “I believe we have a guest.” She then sighs, rubbing a slow circle on Rhaenyra’s jaw as her silver haired companion slides a palm up her waist. “I believe we do.” She agrees. 

You stand outside the large building, eyes scanning up, scaling the walls and anticipating the tension. You were reluctant to wear the clothes delivered to your apartment just four days prior; the pink dress pressing against your body like a second skin, a white fur jacket and kitten heels because in truth you hadn’t expected your relationship with the CEO of Iron Throne Industries, your best friend’s mother, to progress so far. For her to begin utterly spoiling you. This made the ‘your mama’ jokes from first year so much worse. You shake your head at the thought and swallow, digging your opal teeth into your lower lip. Then the door swings open and your head snaps to it. Your eyes are wide as you take in the sight. Rhaenyra is smiling that sly grin, her palm perched on the long doorway, the other cupping a wine glass while her body is wrapped in scarlet and coal. The dark and rouge velvet of her blazer washes over her shoulders like gushing water and you bite down harder. Sharp pain shoots through the flesh beneath your teeth but you don’t care because your stomach is twisting in ribbons of lust. The outline of her crimson lipstick sticks to her glass. “Good evening.” She greets, eyes carnivorous and tempting through thin slits. Your sights track along her ruby nails then blink the distraction away to stutter back. “Good evening, mommy.” You near-gulp as tingles shoot across your flesh. She tilts her head, all too aware of the effect she wields over you as skilled as a swordsman. “Why don’t you come inside?” She suggests, letting her tongue run over her lips as she tempts you with glistening eyes. Hesitation grapples your weak ankles for a moment but you both know you are far too deep to stop now and why would you want to? The fun is only beginning… 

Alicent is slung across a plush black armchair, her legs winding at the arm of it. Your eyes instantly widen and you step back in surprise, your back hitting your girlfriend’s chest. She slowly creeps her hands onto your hips. “Miss Hightower!” You exclaim but she only chuckles at you while Rhaenyra hangs your coat. She has a long, shining pearl necklace that dips between her breasts. “Hello, dear.” Alicent’s sultry voice slithers off her tongue. “I was hoping you would be joining us tonight, one of us was starting to get a little impatient.” Her eyes cut to Rhaenyra as her lips twitch up into a winding smirk. Your face washes in rouge. “Well who could blame me?” She retorts, gravel in her throat as the intensity grows. The chestnut vixen raises her brows, amusement smooth across her expression. A pink hue washes over your face, it feels as though you are a sliver of fabric between them. Alicent stands, gracefully as ever, and approaches with a long smirk. Her cinnamon eyes flicker over your face, her hand also rising to cup your cheek. She turns it in her grasp. “My love was right, you are definitely the prettiest of Jacaerys’ friends.” You swallow at the mention of him, tensing. “Don’t worry.” She coos, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You would much rather one of us take care of you, wouldn’t you?” Her sweet, lilting voice almost distracts you from Rhaenyra’s hand which is sliding up your thigh. Her nails catch on the soft pink fabric of your short dress. “Is this the one that I bought for you?” She asks, grinning as her breath teases deliciously at your ear. Her words are mere whispers but they send a tremble over your flesh. “I told you that she was a good girl, didn’t I?” Alicent hums in agreement, on her palms laying to rest atop your hip. She squeezes it gently. “You like that do you?” Alicent tests with a purr, her wicked grin extending across her face. “Being our good girl? Our sweet, gorgeous girl? Gonna be so good for us?” You can’t speak, the breath catching in your throat so you just nod, eyes falling shut as easily as an autumn leaf. “Oh you like that do you?” Rhaenyra chuckles, stopping her hand cruelly just short of your core. 

A gentle whine passes your lips petulantly as Rhaenyra’s fingers rub slow teasing circles and Alicent begins playing with the skin-tight fabric at your side. “Do you like Paris?” ALicent asks, delighting in the mewl you emit. “Be a good girl for us and we’ll take you there. We have a work trip coming up, don’t we, dearest?” Rhaenyra nods, nibbling at your neck and finally driving her fingers up to swirl over the thin pad of underwear beneath your cunt. A mewl of approval drips from your tongue. “You can be a good girl, can’t you?” Another nod tips your head but this time, Alicent’ hand reaches up into your hair and tugs it back. A gasp hitches from you and a pleasant tingle runs up your neck as Rhaenyra presses wet lips to the soft flesh. She sucks a deep maroon mark while your hands fumble at thin air for support. Alicent moves her hand away from your side to grasp one of yours, she squeezes it with a chuckle rumbling through her throat. “We could visit the Louvre,” Alicent coos, brushing back your hair and playing with the strands. “Have breakfast outside the Eiffel Tower, perhaps attend our events in the evening–” “Though you might struggle to escape me.” Rhaenyra purrs. “There is nothing I’d like better than to bend you over some pretty little railing looking out at the stars.” Alicent chuckles at the shiver that runs down your spine. “I knew you would like that idea.” Alicent pulls away only briefly but it flutters your eyes open all the same. 

When you see her approach again, a familiar glass stamped with crimson lipstick is greeting you with the temptation of a sly snake. “Drink.” She demands, Rhaenyra taking it between her fingers to dip it between your plush lips. Alicent slowly slithers her hand up your thigh. “And to think this almost went to waste.” Rhaenyra tuts, watching as your throat bobs. There is something else that she would much rather you drink. She strokes your cheek and it isn’t long until your back is being pressed into the winding sofa, The soft velvet runs goosebumps along your warm skin, Rhaenyra’s hands squeeze your thighs, parting them with ease while Alicent kisses up your neck, your jaw, your cheek–anything she can reach. Her hot breath flows over you, tingles shoot up your spine. Lips kiss up your thigh and suddenly a chuckle bursts from your lover’s lips. “I knew you would be wet for me.” She purrs, tongue dipping out to glide over the slick greeting her. When she sees it invading your thin black thong, her index flicks under the fabric. She pulls it down, licking her lips at the sight of your mound. Alicent moves down to straddle your stomach, hands framing your face as Rhaenyra plays with you. A gasp parts your lips, her fingers are slightly cold from the glass and it tickles up your skin. Alicent chuckles and leans down to press your lips together. Just as your fingers are itching to line up her waits, a mewl slips from you. Rhaenyra tongue treads up your core. 

Alicent tuts slowly. “I thought you were our good girl but you’re being so loud.” A smirk creeps over her face. “Here, sweet girl, we wouldn’t want to get you in trouble…” She removes her hand to unwind the pearl necklace from her neck, dipping her finger between her breasts to fish it out. It swings in the air with the gentleness of a breeze but she doesn't give it much time before letting it fall in a line into your mouth. Your breath hitches as your teeth latch onto them. “We simply must get you more of these.” Alicent chuckles before diving back to lay her lips against your neck, the pink marks blossoming. Rhaenyra’s patience wears thin and so her hands are quick to snatch either side of your dress and roll it up–just past your hips. Her fingers snap the opposing fabric of your thong and discard it with the ease of tossing old garbage. She supposes you will not be needing such things anymore anyway. Her lips lock around your clit, suck at the pearl but her tongue manages to slip inside your throbbing cunt. It teases with gentle ease, much like testing the limits of a new toy. 

Your fists clench at the fabric of Alicent’s silk dress, your brows furrow as your lover plays with you and you feel. Your back arches, A needy whine rips through your lips, Alicent chuckling at your neediness. The pearls jangle as your teeth bite down harder on the connecting chain. Slowly Alicent begins to rock her hips back and forth, a pearl of her own rubbing against your stomach with unkempt eagerness. “Keep making those sounds and a punishment will be in order.” She warns, smirking, but the words barely shoot through your ears. Your nipples pebble in sensitivity, almost resembling the sharp jewels that your girlfriend adorns so commonly along her fingers. Rhaenyra’s tongue and Alicent’s hips move in tandem. Pink lips continue to kiss up your neck, a trail of wetness in the marks she leaves behind. Her palms glide up your middle until they can trace up your arms. Tingles shoot along your skin as her nails trip on your goosebumps. Eventually her hands come up to clasp your hands above your head, she locks them and kisses along your jaw. Rhaenyra’s tongue tickles up your slit slowly, becoming gentle when she hears Alicent’s mewls begin to stutter. A whine threads through your mouth. “Don’t be greedy, pet.” She chastises with a chuckle. Alicent’s lips stop on your jaw to let out a high preening moan against your lips. Her intense russet eyes meet your own half-lidded sights which only pulls her higher up to her peak. Her teeth clamp down on her lower lip but she releases a yelp as a short resounding smack echoes around you. Rhaenyra tuts as she moves away from your heat and soothes Alicent’s backside with slow strokes of her palm. “That’s better.” She sings and kisses up the length of your new lover’s back until finally turning her neck in her hand to kiss against her lips with rough care. Slowly Alicent peels off your body and is followed by Rhaenya, their lips beginning to clash for dominance. 

Rhaenyra’s palms lock hard on Alicent’s hips and Alicent’s tangle like beasts into the river of Rhaenyra’s silver streaming hair. Your dazed gaze lands on them as their tongues dance in eagerness to argue despite no words. Instead, their lips smack and their teeth clash like swords…but when a soft whine leaves your lips, their shields come down. Their battle ceases long enough for their eyes to turn on you. Rhaenyra’s sharp eyes snap to you with an uncontrolled grace while Alicent’s glance over your face like a kitten exploring the jungle of her ancestors. “Don’t worry, pet.” She utters, a deep rumbling of gravel in her throat. “We haven’t forgotten about you just yet.” Rhaenyra’s body twists, her shoulders dropping and head tilting down so that her sights are almost predatory as they flit over your rumpled form. Your dress is hitched up and exposing the sensitivity between your legs, your lipstick is smeared and what once was matte is now wet and waiting. “And I hope you haven’t forgotten about this either.” You gasp as a long feather teases at your opening. Alicent chuckles and retorts. “How much was this again, sweetheart?” You tuck the lower of your lip between your teeth, the pearls begin to dribble down your form. She licks a stripe along her own as they do. “£110.” Rhaenyra answers smoothly, running the tickle up and down your tender flesh. A laugh escapes. “For that?” Alicent asks, almost aghast. “She claimed it ‘brightens the room’, almost refused to leave without it, my bratty girl.” Rhaenyra tuts and runs it down your body. “It might as well do something.” 

Like a tiger she creeps forward, Alicent wandering to the side, her hands plant on either side of the sofa and peel your legs back apart. A whimper leaves you but she doesn’t react, instead she slowly pries the pearls from your plump lips and skips them down from your cleavage to your core until they hit at your clit. A gasp hitches your breath and your thighs flinch. She leans forward to look at the dripping mess you have become and runs the necklace along it. “Do you know how long I was waiting for you and this pretty pussy?” She purrs as she toys with you, teasing up your slick slit. She lifts her other hand to slap it. You yelp with a start but she is quick to soothe the hit with her tongue. Her eye contact never strays–she knows your body better than you do. Then out of the corner of your eye you can see a familiar Rhaenyra turns her head with a devilish smirk and when your eyes follow her direction you almost gasp. In her hands is a long and thick crimson strap-on within her hands. She grins with temptation. Rhaenyra’s hand glides to take it from her and lower to strap it around herself. Alicent’s movements are slow and smooth as she wraps around you from behind. Her hands dip to reclaim the pearls but this time instead of pushing them into your mouth, she takes your wrists and latches them together. You swallow. “You gonna be good for mommy?” Rhaenyra asks with high brows but you can see the tinge of apprehension. You had done everything with her but not this and it was safe to say that rarely does Rhaenyra start small. And yet, much like how this affair started, you surprise yourself. It isn’t hesitation that tenses your body, it’s excitement. You nod, you nod with eager eyes and even more eager lust. Her eyes darken again and a smirk lifts her lips. “I knew you were my good girl.” She praises while Alicent’s lips descend onto your neck. 

Slowly, she plunges inside, the head of her cock running through your folds and tickling at your insides. Overwhelming fullness clenches your cunt and drinks the plastic in. A high moan is quickly swallowed as Alicent cranes your neck to slam her warm lips on yours. Her kiss is the opposite of delicate as her tongue pokes your mouth but there is a gentleness in her hand as it cups your face. Your legs ache as Rhaenyra pushes them further apart to give her access. She thrusts with animalistic fervour, as if in heat and desperate to probe even deeper. Alicent’s thumb lowers to rub at your pleading bud and delights in the breath that drives your lips into that beautiful shape. “Good girl,” Alicent coos as Rhaenyra pushes you closer and closer…Your head tosses behind you as intensity begs at you. Your bound hands lead your squirming to increase but when Alicent releases your face, she clutches at the side of your dress. It curls in her grasp as she squeezes the fabric. Rhaenyra’s hips rock back and forth, letting euphoria churn desperately. It is as though she is tying a knot in your lower stomach, tugging at every thrust but willing it to snap. To splinter, to break, to release. She wants to be the one who pushes you into your peak. The wet slapping of your cunt swallowing her in, doesn’t cease even as your slick splatters across your thighs. You can feel your binds even tighter on your skin. You can feel your resolve to keep quiet beginning to fracture. 

Finally the hold is too tight to deny and Rhaenyra grins down at you, her fingers hiking your knee up to fall over her shoulder. She presses forward to kiss along your collarbone. It is an understatement to say that you are stained in their lipstick kisses and claimant marks. “Release for me.” She breathes into your ear and finally it snaps. The tie breaks in time with the pearls which scatter across the floor with the sounds of loose change. Your arms fly apart as a tornado of euphoria sweeps you inside. “That’s it.” Alicent purrs as you tremble against her body. “That’s it.” Pleasure wraps around you as tight as a vine but it isn’t constricting; instead it carries the same comfort of her arms which sweep around you as Rhaenyra gently glides out of your glistening core. Your head turns as pleasurable shivers overwhelm your body. Your sights travel over the scattered pearls while Rhaenyra winds you between herself and Alicent, sandwiching you. Alicent squirms so that she can wrap her arms around your waist as if you are a teddy bear. “Oh sweet one, I hope you don’t think this was only a one time thing...” She coos. Her breath flutters over your collarbone which only reminds you of your endeavours. Her fingers carefully slink into yours and she squeezes your hand lightly. She finds a pearl strewn in the space between your fingers. She tuts. “We’ll have to get you some of your own, pet.” Your eyes don’t have the willpower to stay open as you nestle back into Alicent’s warm arms. With the scent of Chanel and Byredo thick in your nose, you finally rest. 

any and all interaction such as reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡♡♡

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The Farewell before the war

Aegon x aunt!reader

warning : targaryen incest, no use of Y/n, mentioning/implied war and death, kiss, mentioned sex, minor hurt/comfort, some fluff, age gap (Aegon 20s and reader early 40s)

Summary : The war was about to begin and the dance of the dragons would begin as soon as both sides mounted their dragons and both sides raised their swords. The farewell they knew was one that would last forever...a farewell that broke the queer custom of family.

Info : So with season 2 coming up my own sanity and the trauma we all will be getting I have written this as a little something. Have fun reading ;)

ps : He looks so good in the gif

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screams were the last to echo through the castle as the mood was still as exuberant as it could be. Aegon, crowned king after the death of his father, was the man the young king could say he was glad the Targaryen king had died...finally died.

The only thing he got from his father besides looks was ungratefulness, disgust and hopelessness. His father had never believed in him, never liked him, maybe there was a moment in his life when Aegon was still a helpless little baby that his father was proud of, proud to finally have a son, but that was almost two decades ago and it didn't matter anymore.

Not only did he now have the crown of Maegor on his head. The light-coloured hair that he really hated, which he had kept short a few years ago and was slowly beginning to see as a weapon.

Slowly beginning to see himself as a weapon. His people adored him, his mother was happy, Heleana his beloved sister wife for the first time did not flee reality but enjoyed her role as Queen with their children.

A fact that took guilt from his heart...even if he never wanted to marry her, at least there was this sense of responsibility towards himself, her and their soon to be three children.

His younger brother Aemond no longer simply saw him as that, he recognised him as the rightful dragon he could command and it seemed the respect between them was slowly building as he sat on the throne.

Wearing the colour green of his mother, the green he learned to love the green of his family and the gold of his father, the gold of his other side the gold of his aunt the youngest and only sister of the former king Viserys. The black one created among the golden dragons a firewyrm a dragon born without wings.

Her actual twin, Prince Aegon, died less than a year later. Daemon and Viserys have always secretly blamed her for the death of their mother because she caused the complications. Of course, only a woman could do this. But it was his aunt that the new and young king had adored for years.

She never saw him for what he was. A mistake a challenge for anyone. No, he was ,,My perfect dragon" as she had always called him ever since he could remember. Whether it was accompanying him to his chamber and looking after him when he was drunk on wine or milk of the poppy.

She was always there for him with open arms, encouraging him when it came to important adventures, taking care of his injuries at the hands of the king, the queen or his own grandfather. She was also the one who gave him something he had wanted from her for a long time.

Something he knew he would eventually have to share with his wife, but the mere thought of his own sister... no, it disgusted him, which is why the then prince came to his aunt in the chambers. Perhaps it was the wine, her evening dress that lay so light and airy on her body, the colour gold that caught his eye.

She never wore red or black, preferring gold instead. It was a few years ago that he could finally have her, he didn't care that she was older than his own mother. It didn't matter that they had the same blood, it didn't matter that they were princess and prince.

It didn't matter that when he kissed her, tasting the sweet fruit, he was almost trembling with rejection. Her gentle hands laid on his as she tried to push him away for a moment but he wouldn't let her. He deserved love and appreciation too, his teary grey blue eyes looking up at her violet ones.

It was those eyes they both couldn't get away from as she let her own nephew touch her again. He remembered his insecurity but was always reassured by her voice.

The wine that influenced his senses was taken away by her. The pain from the last blow faded as she kissed his cheek. Her warm, soft body beneath his, his hands touching hers came together and they held each other.

He felt safe, he was worth loving and she could give her love to someone. His lips on her body, kissing every part of her, watching her move beneath him. Surprised by his own almost clumsy noises when she soothed him with kisses.

He wasn't used to being treated so…gently and lovingly. She really showed him what it meant to be loved and not just a fuck with a whore. It was the night that not only he learnt what it meant to be a dragon it was the night he promised her that one day she would no longer be a firewyrm.

,,You will become a dragon one day, Princess...I promise," he had said to her as he lay beside her, but there was a determination in his gaze that seemed to burn like fire between them then. When he took her hand in a tender, almost gentle gesture, her fingers kissed his while she stroked his light-coloured, tousled hair.

His eyes met hers again, ,,You are so beautiful " he had murmured, almost amused at how easily he could make his aunt blush. ,,Aegon...you perfect naive dragon," she had replied and pulled him close, but he had sensed that she was trembling.

At the time he had thought it was from the act, but now he knew she had been crying silently. She had cried for him because she knew that the gods would punish him more severely than her. But now it had been years and had anything changed?

He had children with his own sisters, more princes and a princess, his three little dragons, his own flesh and blood that he guarded. His mother, the Queen Dowager, seemed to be suffering even more than usual after the aftermath that had taken over the entire court.

Aemond, his own brother, had killed their common nephew Lucerys Velaryon. ,,Our sister's second bastard is dead," he had muttered as he withdrew from the small council, a smile trying to steal onto his lips but unable to do so.

He couldn't not in the knowledge that the fire inside him was telling him it wasn't over yet. Oh how right he was to be as the banners were lowered to their respective sides and the weapons were forged. So it was his duty to go into battle, not on the throne but on his dragon Sunfyre.

But it was during this time when he was training with his brother and sworn sword Criston Cole that her golden dress became less and less visible. A sadness emanated from her when he saw her, his own naive anticipation only seemed to fuel her fear.

But no matter what he tried, no smile would appear on her lips until the day he stood alone in the dragon pit and the golden sun had not yet fully risen. His eyes were fixed with fascination on his dragon, the most beautiful dragon that ever existed, a pride he was only too happy to show.

He heard someone, footsteps come to him as Sunfyre gave an almost cheerful hiss and moved his head in the direction of the entrance. ,,A golden morning for two beautiful naive perfect dragons" he heard her voice after days if not weeks and stopped in front of his dragon as he just watched her.

She no longer wore the gold, on the contrary it was his own colour reflected in his eyes. A dress with armour elements in green and gold that Targaryen had turned green.

A warrior, a dragon rider without a dragon, a diplomat who would be dispatched with a sword if she had to. ,,Naive? The fire on the war we will win," he said faster than he thought and heard her cagey laugh, which was underlined by a roar from Sunfyre. Perhaps there was once a possibility of a connection between the two of them, but these were years away.

His princess aunt approached him and placed her hand on the dragon's muzzle, the warmth seeming to soothe them both before she placed her hand on her king's cheek. ,,You know the distribution of troops, the numbers...the dragons and yet Aegon you maintain the notion of victory...a future of fire" she began, looking back at the dragon who also watched her, the beast though as old as its rider seemed to know what it would mean once they flew away from Kingslanding.

It would mean a war in which the green were outnumbered, a war of force and violence, a war in which once again she could do nothing without a dragon of her own.

A thought that Aegon slowly seemed to understand as he placed his hand on hers, his armour rattling slightly but still maintaining his slight, almost cheeky grin. ,,A war yes, but I promised you a dragon...a dragon of iron you shall have" he said, seeing with pleasure her confusion as he took her hand and led her lightly to the entrance of the dragon pit.

Despite everything, he held her tightly, held her firmly, held her as a king should, held the woman he loved, held the thing that had given him what he had always needed. Love.

She could feel the gold of the morning sun shining on them both as his hand gently wrapped around her hip, a grin on his face as he pointed to the castle, directly to the site of the throne room. ,,A dragon of iron that you will rule in my absence... and my death if it comes," he said so lightly that she thought for a moment he had lost his mind, but no, when she turned to him she saw that he meant it.

That for a moment he didn't seem naive was not beside him. He truly seemed like a king who kept promises, like someone who also recognised and believed in her. ,,You promised," she whispered, feeling a weight lift from her, the tension, the fear, the lies that were in the face of her own brothers' hatred.

She was something, she was a dragon of iron...the true king had promised her and kept his promise. ,,Oh my dear Aegon," she said and only seconds later felt his lips on hers again, his hands holding her close then as now.

His scent of leather, metal and fire met her sweet smell of smoke. ,,A farewell to the true queen who will be now," he replied, pulling her a little tighter against him.

A kiss goodbye, a kiss with a promise of a goodbye as the sun rose over the city and Aegon with Sunfyre, Aemond set upon Vhagar and the troops.

A farewell they knew would be one of the last as she sat on the throne that was gold and green and the princess received her promise in the midst of a war of fire and blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[seventeenpins]

a little domesticity

pairing: Tess x F!Reader word count: 2.3k summary: You discover it's Tess's birthday. You decide you want to make it special. Tess fingers you while you cook her dinner. Same universe as Drive Me Home if you like?? content/warnings: basically just porn, no implied age gap, this is so domestic!!!!, established but new-ish relationship, lil bit of daddy Tess, fingering, very mild degradation, no outbreak or pre-outbreak AU, pet names (baby, honey), Tess works at a high-powered but undefined job a/n: For @ozarkthedog 🩷 Congrats on your 11k, and happy birthday Ozzie!! You've given us so much with your celebration, but you should be the one getting gifts! I know this is pretty extraordinarily late (sorry, love) but I hope you like it 😚

You are determined not to have to make two trips. Tess's apartment is up five flights, the elevator is on the fritz, and your legs already ache from the gym yesterday. You want to do anything you can to not have to go back and forth.

Three grocery bags hang off your left hand and two on your right, slowly cutting off any remaining circulation. A bottle of wine and a gallon of milk are tucked into your elbows as you heave yourself up the steps. Grocery shopping is a truly Sisyphean task, and the slog up to the apartment only confirms this.

By the time you turn the corner past the fourth landing, you're cursing yourself. It's so much. You know your arms will be aching, but of course you're stubborn enough to overdo it.

Finally, you make it to the fifth floor landing, and Tess's door is the third on the right. It's inelegant, trying to keep the bags steady while shoving your hand into your pocket to dig around for your keys. Your fingers are verging on numbness, and right as you move the key to the lock, you fumble and drop it.

That's the moment you hear the phone ring inside.

It sends you into a rush, and in your haste, you drop half the bags and still don't manage to open the door before the ringing stops.

Instead, you swing the door open right as the beep of the answering machine sounds, a bunch of bananas and a bag of English muffins fallen at your feet.

A man's voice chimes out, tinny and a little distorted.

"Tess! It's Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you well, and Sarah, too. I'll catch you later."

Then you hear the click of a receiver, and the machine stops.

You frown. Leave the groceries where they're sat and rewind the tape a few seconds. Hit play.

"'S Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you--"

You click it off.

He definitely said Tess. And 'happy birthday'.

So why the fuck didn't Tess tell you it was her birthday?

You know it's not really a big deal. Maybe she's just not a birthday person. It wouldn't really surprise you; there's a nonchalance that she exudes that sometimes throws you off .

If you're honest, though, you love birthdays. The gift-giving. Getting to make a fuss over your loved ones. And, you reason, if the Millers can wish her well, then it's probably not a sore spot for her.

More than anything, you've been wanting an excuse to celebrate her. Maybe this can be it?

As you prop the door open and begin to drag the grocery bags in, as you scrubbing the produce and putting everything away, you allow a plan to form.

It's been a long day but a good day. Work was a series of tasks that required some creative problem solving, and Tess felt like a fucking magician the way she'd been kicking ass and putting out fires.

Trekking up the innumerable steps, she felt suddenly lighter when she remembered that you had offered to make dinner.

From the moment she turns the key in the lock, she immediately starts salivating.

"Babe?" she calls, shucking off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket.

"In here-" you call back.

A moment later, soft footfalls are padding into the kitchen, and she's slipping her arms around you. She rests her chin on your shoulder and surveys the scene in front of you both.

"Shit, hon, this smells amazing."

You do a happy wiggle against her and start pointing out everything in turn. "So, we've got garlic tossed broccolini. Parsnip ravioli in that one, only has a minute or so left. I'm just starting the sauce now, so it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, but you've made it in perfect time."

"Ugh," Tess groans, appreciative, "You spoil me. What's the occasion?"

"OH, don't let me drain the pasta water without saving some."

"I got you," she promises, sliding past you to grab two beers from the fridge. She notices when your eyes linger on her hands as she pops the bottle caps. "Careful, don't burn-- whatever you've got on the flame there."

With a shake of your head, you roll your eyes. "But seriously, is that a real question, or are you testing me?"

She frowns. Hands you a bottle and takes a swig of her own, sliding back behind you. She presses against you and wraps her arms around your waist.

"What are you talking about?"

You grind your ass back a little more and she puts one hand on your hip, but now she's smiling at you, mildly puzzled.

"Do you know what the date is today?"

"Oh shit, did I forget something important?" she detaches. "Did I forget our anniversary?"

"You tell me." You nod your head towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. "I'll help you out, it's a Tuesday today. And we've only been together six months. And you brought me flowers for that, like, a week ago."

She stares at the calendar for a moment and then looks at you. Looks back and forth.

"I--"

She's frozen in an incredulous frown.

"Happy birthday, honey," you tell her.

"I can't believe I fucking forgot. And how did you know?" she laughs.

"Hah," you laugh, "Answering machine went off when I got in. Your friend, Joel, he was calling to wish you well."

She snorts. "Fuckin' Miller saves the day?" Then she looks you up and down. "And you, baby, you've definitely saved the day." She looks over the spread again and notices the counter covered in flour, the kitchenaid with a roller attachment, a piping bag nearly fully emptied, and various pastry cutters. "Shit, did you make all this yourself?"

"The ravioli? Sure did. Just wanted an excuse to spoil you."

Tess plants a kiss on your lips and you moan into her mouth. When you pull apart, you're panting.

"Now," you tell her, suddenly serious, "I prioritized dinner and didn't have a chance to get you a present."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to-"

You cut her off, waggling your eyebrows. "But you do still have someone to unwrap."

"Don't have to tempt me, honey," she grins.

"Just let me finish up with dinner-"

She has a different idea. "I bet you can finish up while I open my present."

You snort. "Be patient."

"I don't have to be patient--it's my birthday."

"Tess, I-"

She ignores you, pressing gentle kisses down the side of your throat.

She know's it's a guaranteed horny button for you, and she exploits that weakness mercilessly. You have to fight not to melt. Even so, you let your eyes flutter closed, bathing in the sensation and not wanting anything to stop or change. She lets you relax into it for a moment, before bumping her hip against you, nudging you forward.

"Go on, baby. Better keep cooking. I'm hungry."

You let out a deep breath and snap yourself back. You spark the cooktop and place down the sauté pan. (You prefer cooking at Tess's apartment. Hers has a gas range. Yours has electric.)

After checking the temperature, you place a stick of butter in the pan. Tess runs her hands up and down your sides at a leisurely pace. Just her touch is enough to make you weak kneed again.

She passes you a slotted wooden spatula and you start to push the stick of butter around, watching it sizzle and melt as Tess makes you melt. You hear the clink of her own belt before you feel her undoing the button of your jeans.

Your pasta timer dings and the moment is broken. You grab the pan and are about to drain it in the colander you have set up in the sink, but before you can tip it out, Tess stops you.

"Hold up, hon, save that pasta water."

"Shit! Yep, nearly forgot it."

You set a liquid measuring jug beneath the colander and let the pasta drain, before taking the pasta water and turning back to the melting butter.

Tess's hands are back on you, pulling down your zipper now. She shimmies your jeans past your hips, kneading your ass with one hand as she trails the other from your belly button lower and lower and lower-

You start to lose focus on dinner and can only pay attention to her.

Tess slips her hand down your front and gasps when she gets to your bare cunt, hot and wanting. You're wearing no underwear, clothed only in the curls between your thighs.

"Naughty girl," she praises, and you swoon as she starts stroking her fingertips along your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it on your clit before pressing harsh circles into you that make you shudder and squirm deliciously.

"Don't let the butter burn," Tess chides, and you blink your eyes open, reaching for the utensil and moving the last of the unmelted butter around the pan, watching it start to foam at the edges.

"What else do you need, hon?" she asks, "Got all your ingredients?

You glance around. The sage is there. The pasta water. Garlic. Pepper.

"Uh-huh."

"Good," Tess says, "'Cause I'm gonna need you to stay put and focus."

A surge of heat pulses through you and you feel Tess's breath on your neck, a delicious sigh.

You add sage leaves to the browning butter, savouring the sudden aroma as the sage begins to heat, releasing its fragrance.

Tess resumes her work, slipping your jeans down to your ankles and guiding you to step out, all the while you stir the pan.

As the sage sizzles in the butter, she presses a finger against your folds, finding your opening, and eliciting a gasp from you as she enters you with two long fingers.

Finding a rhythm, she starts pumping the digits, pulling whines and moans from you, pausing only to let you smash the peeled garlic with the palm of your hand against the flat of a chef's knife and mince it a little more. You toss it into the pan and, once the knife is out of your hand, she resumes.

Two fingers become three, and as you splash the pasta water in with the butter and sage and yelp as she picks up the pace.

"Love those lovely little whines you make for me. All those sweet noises, that's all for me, huh?"

"For you," you agree, another whine escaping.

"Messy fuckin' hole, taking my fingers so good. Such a good girl, baby," she praises, and you don't realise she's not referring to you until she says, "Look at her, gettin' all puffy and wrecked."

You let out another sound, this one closer to a growl. You can feel yourself beginning to drip down her hand as she fucks her digits into you, pressing into you so nicely, working you open, making your knees quake.

"Sweet little pussy opening right up for me. Think she can take another?

"Fuck, daddy, please-"

Trying to keep stirring while she works on you is a near impossibility. With a focus that can't be anything less than witchcraft, she smacks your cheek while you're moaning, eyes closed and keening.

"Don't let it burn," she scolds, and your eyes snap back open.

The sauce has started to thicken, and you turn down the flame so you can take a moment to grind yourself deeper onto Tess's hand.

"Wanna put on the strap?" you ask. "Want me to put on the strap?"

"I'd take either," she admits with a laugh, "But the dishwasher's running."

"Fuck."

"Did you just put the cycle on?"

"Yep. Are our dicks in the dishwasher?"

"Our dicks are in the dishwasher."

You let out a whine. She just maintains her pace and rubbing a fingertip in blinding, tight circles around your clit.

"Poor baby," she teases, "I barely have to play with you and your cute lil hole soaks me like a fuckin' whore. You're so fucking easy."

"Hnnnggg-"

"My pretty little slut. Just gotta give me one, baby, just one and I'll let you finish dinner."

Another whine.

"C'mon, honey, I feel you gettin' close. Clenchin' on daddy's fingers. Fuck, cum for me baby, let me feel you-"

She reaches around you and turns off the flame, the fingers of her other hand pumping faster and rougher. You're bent forward, gripping the counter for support, as you feel yourself start to tip over.

"Fuuuuckkk-" you cum with a cry, Tess's fingers working you through it as her other hand wraps around your waist, steadying you. You hear the splash of your release against the laminate floor as she keeps going, pumping her fingers fast and deep, hitting just the right spot, dragging your orgasm out longer than you knew yourself capable of.

It takes a couple of minutes, coming back down. You feel your slick cooling on your thighs and turn around to see Tess leaning against the hallway behind you, grinning wickedly as she licks her fingers one by one.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you tell her, and she slides back behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Not allowed to die. It's my birthday."

"Hmmph," you roll your eyes and begin to plate up.

The groan Tess lets out as she takes her first bite is more than worth it.

"Fucking fuck, honey, I mean- holy shit this is so good."

You grin. "Glad you like it."

"I know what I'm having for dessert," Tess smirks, waggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you agree, "I made you a tart."

"You're my tart."

You roll your eyes again. "I am, but I made one special for you. Dessert first, then you can eat me as much as you like."

Tess nods solemnly before breaking into another grin. "Thank you honey."

"Happy birthday, baby."

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 9!!

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*****************

You pound your way to the nearest bar, where everyone had agreed to meet. The three of them are standing around, talking over glasses of wine. Your hands are in fists, your nails digging into your palms as you approach. They acknowledge you as you enter their field of vision, but you say nothing. Instead, you beeline for Aziraphale, put your arms around him, and hang on for dear life. Sometimes you just need to hug an angel.

There’s a pause where Anathema says something about your aura, and then Aziraphale hugs you back.

Dear Reader, I’m not sure if it ever happened in your life, but for this Puffin there came a time when it was made very clear that wanting to be held or wanting to lean on another person in public was unacceptable (and, in fact, embarrassing) once you reached a certain age. And yet, we as humans are social creatures. The need to be held is a very normal response, especially after something particularly upsetting happens (like having the sanctity of washroom privacy violated, for example). Perhaps you’re not the kind of person who, out of nowhere, feels the desire to be held, but perhaps you know someone who is. And so, I would like to impress upon you the incredible difference it makes, the immeasurable relief it brings, to know that you have someone with you who will hold you back without question or comment. Just hold you, and wait.

Aziraphale makes it clear he intends to do just that.

“Take your time, dear,” he says gently. And so you do.

After a moment, the clink of a glass next to you makes you look up. Someone has given you a glass of the same wine everyone else has. You pull away and take a sip, feeling much calmer and very grateful.

“Thanks,” You say.

“Anytime,” Aziraphale replies.

“What happened?” Anathema asks.

Thus, you recount how Metatron trapped you in the washroom until he had said his peace. By the time you finish, there are three very angry faces around you. You feel validated enough to take another, much larger, sip of the wine. Aziraphale is the first to speak.

“Well for starters, I invite you to stay in my bookshop however long you like. Pet indeed! You are a help, yes, but you are a guest, and certainly not disposable, whatever he says.”

“And,” Crowley adds, “From what you said, Aziraphale and I can get you home whenever you want anyway. Probably, I mean. No dUbIOus motives involved, at least.”

Anathema seems to be thinking. After another few seconds, she asks:

“Why did you take the coffee?”

You all look at her, surprised.

“Well I mean,” she continues, “If the Metatron wants to know, he probably has a reason. If you tell us, maybe we can figure it out for ourselves and find a way around it.”

“Or they could just not tell him,” Crowley suggests with snark. “Then it doesn’t matter.”

“I mean, it might,” Anathema counters, “We don’t know that it doesn’t.”

“I took it because of the Coffee Theory,” You say with a shrug. It’s not like it’s a big deal. “But I mean, I don’t know why that would matter to him.”

“Well,” Anathema says, “That might depend on what the Coffee Theory is.”

“Well, it’s the idea that the Metatron did something to that coffee he was going to give Aziraphale. To, like, make Aziraphale trust him, or listen to him or whatever, so that he would go back to Heaven.” You pause. “There’s also an interpretation of it where it was a metaphor like ‘take my offer or face death.’ But most people think about the first one, and that’s the one that was in my brain when I did it. There aren’t a lot of people who actually believe it. I mean, not anymore, anyway.”

“So you think the Metatron drugged Aziraphale’s coffee?” Anathema raises an eyebrow. “And you drank it, yes? So...did he?”

“No,” You reply, “It was exactly what it was supposed to be. An oat milk latte with almond syrup. And I didn’t think he actually messed with it. I just wasn’t willing to take the chance, that’s all.”

Crowley’s face scrunches. “And you think he might need to know that for some reason?” He looks pointedly at Anathema.

“He might,” She gives a thoughtful hum. “I’ll think about it. I might ask the Cards later.”

-----------

The wait for boarding didn’t feel so long after that. As you board, you notice how spacious First Class is. Aziraphale and Crowley sit in the seats ahead of you and Anathema, with Aziraphale in the window seat. You notice Crowley casually trying to stick his legs out into the aisle and wonder vaguely whether it’s because he needs the space, or to try and trip the flight attendants. Both? Probably both. Okay, definitely both, you note, as a stewardess almost falls face-first into the aisle. Aziraphale gently swats at Crowley in reprimand, but you can tell it’s half-hearted and wholly-fond.

Your only trouble comes when you need to use the washroom, but Anathema, ever clever and aura-observant, suggests to go with you so that you can knock if anything goes wrong. Thankfully, nothing does, and you both return to your seats.

“You know,” Anathema says, leaning forward, “I just overheard the strangest thing. It seems that all of the normal airline food on this plane has gone missing. All that they have to serve is the first-class food.”

“Wait,” You say, holding back a laugh, “So everyone on this flight gets to eat the fancy, chef-prepared, gourmet meals?”

Crowley doesn’t hold back his laugh. “Oh, the big bosses won’t like that!”

“You two wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” Anathema asks suspiciously. You notice she’s smiling while she says it.

“Psh!” Crowley waves away the thought. “Why would I? Doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“Honestly, Miss Device,” Aziraphale adds, “I have no idea why you immediately accuse us of something that seems so clearly to be a mere...clerical error.”

Ah-ha! Culprit found. Clerical error your arse.

“You know,” You sigh, “It really is no wonder why Crowley loves you so much.”

“Ngk,” says Crowley. Aziraphale responds with a pleased-sounding hum. You relax, and notice between the seats that Aziraphale places his hand on top of Crowley’s and leaves it there.

They like holding hands – your insides scream.

--------

When you disembark from the plane, you hear all the other passengers around you complimenting the flight attendants on the excellent food and promising to leave excellent reviews online. You keep your laughter as quiet as you can. Aziraphale’s little prank is going to cause the airline issues for YEARS. Crowley must be so proud.

The speed and ease with which you clear customs and baggage claim is probably because you’re traveling with two supernatural entities. In no time at all, you’re outside of the airport flagging down a cab. Crowley opens the door with enthusiasm and outright glee.

“After you, Angel,” he says, “You think 90 miles an hour in London is bad, I can’t wait for you to see this!”

Dear Reader, I don’t know if you have ever been to New York City, but I assure you that Crowley’s driving has nothing on the NYC cabbies. Aziraphale spends the entire drive trying to hold on to something and taking deep breaths as the cab violently jerks to a stop millimeters from the car in front. You suggest he close his eyes. He does. It doesn’t seem to help.

-------

The taxi lets you out in front of The Ritz. Because of course you’re staying at The Ritz. Aziraphale goes to check in while Crowley tells Anathema he needs the washroom, and mutters to you that he wants to empty all the soap dispensers. You try so hard to hold in your laughter that it comes out your nose anyway. The demon flashes you a cheeky grin before disappearing around the corner. Anathema looks at you.

“Probably been a while since he had a fresh audience,” You say to her. She chuckles.

“And you’re so obliging too. No doubt he’s having a great time with all this.”

“Hey, Anathema,” You begin uncertainly, “How...I mean...I’m just worried about...things. How are we going to find Jesus anyway? I just...I don’t really have anymore information to give. I don’t even know if he’s going to be a baby or an adult this time.”

“Hm...” Anathema thinks for a minute, “Well, I’m going to try and get some readings, see if I can get some kind of direction for us to go in. It’s a big country, but what I’m hoping is that it will sort of work like dowsing.”

“Dowsing? Like looking for water with sticks?”

“Sort of. In a nutshell, you pay attention to the vibrations in the Earth, and the closer you get, the stronger the vibrations become. It makes sense to think that Jesus would make pretty noticeable vibrations. That’s my working hypothesis anyway.”

You nod. That will do for now. Aziraphale and Crowley both return, with the demon wiping his hands on his trousers, and the four of you take the elevator to your room.

The Royal Suite.

“Are...you….serious??” Anathema asks. Honestly, you’re too stunned looking around the enormous suite with four bedrooms to say anything. It’s bigger than most houses. You take out your phone and start taking pictures.

“Well, if we’re going to stay at The Ritz,” Aziraphale says cheerfully, pronouncing the capital letters, “Best to do it Properly.”

“But this is ridiculous!”

Aziraphale isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s gone to tell Crowley not to draw mustaches on the expensive artwork.

“Unlimited resources,” You say to her, “Make for expensive taste.”

“No, kidding,” she sighs, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m gonna need some help with these two.”

Ha, You think to yourself, I knew it.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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^ If you want to see JUST how ridiculous the royal suite is.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

AEMOND POV

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Thoughts of manipulation and hurt, violence and assault. Obsessive themes and possessiveness.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: AEMOND!POV, Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Word count: 4k

Note: Two posts in one day? I am spoiling you all... but only because I love you hehe. This is Aemond's POV from Chapters 16 and 17, where the feast of celebrations for Helaena and Aegon's union is taking place. I did have to split this into two parts as it ran over 10k words lol, so here is Chapter's 16-17 and I will be posting Chapters 18-19 very soon. Anyway, enough of me talking !!! ENJOY! <3

AEMOND POV: Chapters 16 & 17

He sat at the table, lined with his family, whilst awaiting for the other half, eye roaming over the empty seats, that would soon be filled by the Blacks. 

And how he anticipated their arrival. 

More specifically, yours. 

Aegon had been sitting nearby, downing cups of wine and ale faster than he should have, becoming red in the face and drunker by the minute. 

Aemond was loyal to his older brother, though this did not mean that he had to particularly like him. Despite some brotherly love he had for the eldest, there was the suffocating disgust, and hatred that boiled into his very core.

His childhood tormentor. 

His brother.

A man who cared very little for the crown and its duties, or his duty as a Prince to the realm. A man who whored and drank himself into a stupor, and abused the kindness of their sister. 

That was something to Aemond that was unforgivable.

Aemond noted that his mother looked anxious, and although her hands found themselves busy amongst the cups upon the table, or holding themselves in her lap, there was the undeniable fidgeting that was there too.

King Viserys sat at the table silently, his son believing it due to the mans ailment, more than his distaste for his other children. In fact, Viserys was never too interested in Aemond, nor Daeron, but showed love regardless, however, more towards Aegon until he had become more, and more drunk, and a love for Helaena that had never dwindled. 

Though as his illness progressed, his ability to be present for his children lessened. In fact, his ability to be present at all had declined until soon, Aemond’s mother and grandfather held the realm for him in his absence.

When would the old bastard die?

By the looks of it, the One-Eyed Prince surmised that his father did not have much longer to live. His skin grew paler by the day, and it was a rare occurrence, that had not been seen, for the man to not be placated by milk of the poppy. 

Aemond’s distaste for his father did not come from nowhere. 

It was years of neglect, no dragon egg in his crib as was tradition, no interception of the bullying that he endured, and no sympathy for the eye that was lost, that led to the rift of their relationship, if any was there at all.

Aemond remembered that fateful night clearly. 

He remembered how instead of his father coming to console his son for the loss of his eye at the age of only ten, instead threatened the young boy with removing his tongue for a truth that was spoken by most people in court, and most importantly, his wife.

And eye for an eye, his mother had said. 

He supposed the Gods had come late when they had taken Viserys’ for his place in that evening. 

But soon he would pass, and a new nightmare would begin. His brother would take the throne and rule over the Kingdom, and once again, Aemond would have to bend to his brothers will.

And as he waited amongst the sea of sounds, Lords and Ladies of the realm laughing and speaking loudly, music playing amongst the sides of the garden, and quiet chatter at his own table between Otto and Alicent, he impatiently asked the Gods to hurry the day along and deliver you to him.

The Gods answered Aemond’s prayers.

At first he saw the silver hair of his half-sister and uncle, both dressed in black as per usual, and both with their heads held high in an almost dangerously proud fashion.

Behind them, were your two bastard brothers, hair as dark as Ser Harwin Strong’s, and eyes as brown as the bark of the Godswood. Beside them their betrothed, and together, a vision of the evening his eye had been taken from him.

Then there was you. 

Trailing along at the back, taking your time, with the same posture as your parents.

Dangerously prideful, boastful even.

He was not sure what he had been expecting, but as you walked through the garden, through the sea of tables and Lords and Ladies of the realm, and as their eyes turned to stare upon your form, he could not help but feel a sense of pride and anger. 

Another Dornish dress. 

You were teasing him.

It looked to him to be two pieces, and those two pieces were fit to your form perfectly, almost painted on. And how he wished to rip it off of you. 

The top was of the finest leather, folded perfectly to your frame, with a high neck and a cut out space were the soft, pillowy flesh of your breasts were visible. A black skirt with red peeking through drew his attention to your legs and hips, swaying with each step as you sauntered up to the table to join them for the celebrations.

Each step you took, each breath you inhaled, caused your breasts to push against the soft leather, only tempting the young Prince further. He wished to run his tongue along the supple skin showing, in front of all the men and women, and the King be damned.

Aemond used all of his restraint to not jump up from the table and pull you away from the crowd, to fuck you roughly against the castle walls, his bed chambers, your bed chambers, in the dragon pit even. He would fuck you in the garden, and in the roots of the Godswood to show them that you were meant to be his, and under their eyes you would be.

But then as the closer you got to him, the more time he had to let his lone eye gaze at the people who were also watching you. And the bitter rage and disgust flooded him faster than the lust did. 

Those mens eyes, even married Lord’s, watched you hungrily, and you did not even care for it.

In fact, he was sure that you enjoyed it. 

That you lived for the attention that you were getting from the scandalous outfit. From the way the bodice hugged your form and waist, to how your breasts were softly teased to the garden. And what it made it all worse, was that you were not promised to anyone. 

And that made you fair game.

As you came to sit by him and Helaena, and the rest of your family and bastard brothers sat and observed him with wary eyes, he found jealousy in having you greet everyone but him.

Even his drunken brother.

“Princess Helaena, you look beautiful. Gold is a wonderful colour on you.” You had complimented his sister, and oh how sweet your voice sounded. 

Those lips which could spout such poison, such vitriol and discontent, which could rip and tear at you easily, were so syrupy with his sister. 

And he envied it.

He wished that you would acknowledge him, tell him that he looked good that afternoon. That you had noticed that he had spent time and effort on himself, and had noticed that his maids had brushed gentle scented oils into his long hair, braiding half behind his head. 

But you didn’t.

Nor did you spare him a glance. 

A short snort came from the pursed lips of Aegon, who’s goblet had not seemed to move from his face. Aegon these days, as closer as their father got to death, had become closer to drinking himself into his own cups. 

He had watched as you held your tongue and instead smiled at Aegon, and Aemond wished to launch himself across the table and squeeze the life out of his brother for ever having the privilege of having such a smile given to him.

No matter how insincere.

And then the sweet, syrupy tone of your voice was quickly exchanged with the sour bite of your disdain as Aegon continued to push you to fight, push you to react, and the more Aemond watched the interaction, the more concerned he became. 

Aemond was not the only man who had noticed you that evening, nor the Lords of the realm. Instead, Aegon had set his sights onto you, and once again, Aemond was left to feel as though his brother would swoop in to take what was his. 

“Has anyone told you how delightful you look today?”

Aemond imagined what it would be like to slip a blade into the throat of his brother and yank it swiftly to the side, pulling his flesh from his bones, to watch the thick blood pour from the wound he would create.

Alicent cringed, and Aemond felt all the more incensed. 

How many times did his brother have to cause his mother’s distress? How many times did they both have to pick up after him? To constantly watch over him him? A man grown, and older than he?

Aemond almost sighed in relief as you dodged his brothers crude comment, instead directing the positive attention back to Helaena. 

How you always doted on her. 

You would be such a good mother.

He could not wait to give you his seed.

As the evening wore on, you had pulled your favourite fruit from in front of you. And he watched, as he always did, your delicate hands begin to pull the juicy flesh apart.

The nectar ran down from your fingers, dripping to your wrist slowly, the afternoon light glinting against it. He watched as you placed chunks of the fruit into your mouth and chewed with half shut eyes in delight of the taste, listening to those around you conversing. 

Aemond found that he could not pay attention to the low tones of his grandfather and mother, nor the whispers of Daemon and Rhaenyra. He could only focus on you, and the sounds you made as you chewed.

Sounds you were not even aware of. 

Tiny contented sighs and moans fell from your plush lips, so quiet that anyone would have to strain to hear it, and Aemond was straining to hear anything that left your pretty mouth. 

What would it feel like for him to brush his thumb against the bottom of your lip, sticky with star fruit? Would you suck his thumb into your mouth crudely? Would you kiss at the tip? Or lick at it gently as you looked at him with your violet eyes. 

The thought went straight to his cock, and he felt himself hardening inside his breaches.

And then you began to lick at your fingers, soft, pink tongue coming out to chase the nectar as it dripped from the fruit and made a mess of you, and it took everything within him to not kiss you then and there. 

Would you lick his cum from your fingers like that? After to bringing him to release with your hand or mouth? Or perhaps you had scooped his seed from within you, drawing it up to your lips to taste your combined essence? 

He knew you would be insatiable.

Or perhaps you would lick at the juices from your own cunt? Tongue wet with your own slick that you would drag from your fluttering hole, up to your waiting lips. 

Would he fuck you with his hand, feeling you tighten around his digits and your release coat his palm? Would he bring those fingers up to your mouth to clean? And would you lick them so diligently like the dutiful wife he would make you?

Aemond wished to feel your tongue sliding up his shaft before licking and sucking at the tip of his cock. He wanted to see your hands and mouth coated with his seed, not the nectar of the star fruit.

But then Daemon had cleared his throat, and you had turned to witness Aemond staring at you, devouring the star fruit, and you had become oh so meek, so demure, so pure, and discontinued your ravaging of the Dornish delicacy. Aemond cursed his uncle in his head, and made a note that he was being watched.

You still had not acknowledged him.

Still had not greeted his presence despite being so close. Still had not met him with your usual snark, or attitude, or disgust filled eyes. It was as if he did not exist. 

And he hated it.

You had even made conversation with his own grandfather, Otto, who you had made very clear, from your return, of your disdain for. But even still, you met his questions with answers and returned them in kind.

It incensed him. 

Why were you ignoring him?

“You look lovely, Princess Y/n.” As the words left his mouth, the young man thought to himself, let the games begin.

You had straightened your back and taken a deep breath in, before you had finally met his own eye. Violet met violet, and suddenly you were facing each other, and he fell straight into your eyes. 

A dangerous trap they were, and oh so tempting for any mortal man.

“Thank you, Prince Aemond. You are far too kind.” 

The syrup was back.

Was it strengthened by the nectar of the fruit you had made love to?

“I don’t believe I’ve seen such a dress before, at least not in this court.” 

Aemond fought to not lean forward to get a closer look, and instead, pushed himself back into his chair to restrain himself.

“It was made specially for an occasion such as this, a tailor in Dorne creates the most wonderful pieces.”

Such a boastful little thing. 

So much pride.

“Hmm. Dorne does have many exotic things….”

To his disappointment, at the topic of Dorne you had turned excitedly to talk to Helaena about the exotic fruits and spices there. Animatedly telling short tales, and making promises to your aunt that you would go together.

He felt himself relax as he watched Helaena smile, a rare occurrence these days, and Aemond felt gladdened for it, but then Aegon snickered loudly, and wrapped his rough hand around Helaena, and Aemond watched the sickly sweet air around you turn sour, in a blink of an eye. 

“Our niece does know how to talk, doesn’t she?” Aegon breathed into Helaena's face, and Aemond wished to hit the man in the mouth, lest it ever be opened again. 

He did not know how his mother allowed for him to treat her in such a manner. He did not know how he could abuse her, and use her, and treat her worse than a commoner. 

Than a whore. 

How Helaena had sought comfort from Aemond many times after Aegon’s drunken attacks. How Helaena would sob in his arms at first, but eventually as time turned, and the abuse did not stop, she turned silent, and instead of sobs, there would be blinks and small words exchanged, until nothing at all. 

Not quite present, not quite absent. 

She was simply there.

“And you know how to drink brother.” 

Aemond’s eye never left Helaena’s shoulder where Aegon’s hand dug roughly into her flesh.

His gaze was a warning, and Aegon heeded it.

Aegon's grip left your aunt, and reached out in show to grab at his goblet, before lifting it to his lips, challenging his brother as he emptied the cup, before thrusting it behind him for a server to come fill it up once more. 

“And you know how to ruin the fun.” Aegon sulked.

The afternoon carried on and he watched as Helaena snatched you up from the table, declaring the both of you would dance, before she dragged you down into the sea of people, celebrating a disastrous marriage.

Even with one eye, even from afar, amongst a sea of dancing and moving people, he could spot you from a mile away. It was not the silver head of hair that gave you away, it was you. The way you smiled, lips pulling apart as your teeth showed to the room, the way your eyes would light up as you grinned and laughed. 

It was the way your skin looked so soft, softer than all present. Like you had been made of silk and velvet, but carved from marble and stone. How he wished to touch you, all of you, to feel the soft skin of your flesh against him, to press you harder against him. 

To press himself harder into you, rutting against you viciously, feeling the tip of his cock meet the end of your cunt, as you curled beneath him.

All those around you looked dull, and common in comparison. 

Plain featured women and men who dared to sometimes grasp his own attention, as if their commonly features would lure him into an allyship, friendship or the warm bed of another. 

A bed that was not yours. 

Watching both you and Helaena smile was addictive. To see you so carefree, so relaxed and happy in his sisters presence, made him wish to be the one to bring you such happiness. Such elation.

And it soured him to know that he would never be able to, despite his efforts.

The stale yellow hair of Jason Lannister flitted into his view, a man who had no doubt, also been bewitched by the Princess. And Aemond watched in anger as the man was drawn to you like a moth to flame, his feet carrying him hurriedly, yet not too hurriedly under the watchful eyes of his wife, as he made his way to you.

When Jason interrupted you and Helaena, Aemond noted that you too looked disgusted and put off by the mans presence, and as the Lannister leant his face towards you, Aemond shot up from his seat, ignoring the sudden watchful gaze of all at the table, most importantly his own mother, who watched him knowingly as he stalked down to where you where.

The bodies parted for Aemond, like a ship parts the rough waves of the sea, and all he could do was set his sight on you, as you desperately glanced at Helaena for an out.

And Aemond would give you one.

“A union of House Targaryen and House Lannister would be a formidable force.” The slimy Lion suggested, and Aemond took a sharp breath through his nose to prevent himself from declaring treason that this man would even dare to think that he was worthy of you, to even be in your presence, let alone warm your bed.

“I'm sure it would be.” You had spoke bluntly, disgusted by the proposal, and Aemond felt pride, “I think I remember my mother telling me of your offer to her when she was-“ 

He stood behind you now, and watched as you moved to turn away, lips open to land the last verbal blow at the man before you, but all halted as you collided with him. The young prince felt the softness of your skin, and smelt the sweet oils in your hair as you lifted your gaze to look into his eye. 

Your face was either flushed from dancing, or flushed from being so close to him. He could not decide. 

But the wild look in your eye, and the way that your lips snapped shut, and your chest rose and fell more rapidly, as though readying yourself for him, gave him all the confirmation he needed. 

Aemond lifted his hand and held it out to you, wishing you would put your small little hand in his so he could dwarf it in size, so that he could hold you and squeeze you, and feel you for once in a way that was not sacrilegious.

Aemond did not bother to take his eye from you, nor did he bother to turn to acknowledge the distasteful man beside him, whose gaze felt warm on the side of Aemond’s face. 

Pestilent cunt.

“Apologies for the interruption My Lord, but my niece had promised me a dance.” 

Aemond delighted in how your face screwed up, in confusion, in anger, in defiance. And as your lips parted to deny him of what he sought out, you were interrupted by the grating voice of the man beside you both.

The pissant Lord of Casterly Rock bowed down to him as a good dog would, and conceded to the Princes uncourtly interruption. 

For a man with so much pride, such arrogance, and little intelligence but the knowledge that money held power, and the Lannisters had plenty, the man simply walked away, submissively back to the arms of his wife, and sulked.

It made Aemond feel powerful, and his cock jumped at-

“I don’t recall promising you a dance, uncle.” You spoke lowly, hoping for the music and voices of others around you to drown out your sour tone. But it didn’t, and Aemond had heard you, and Helaena had disappeared back towards the table, noting his presence with their niece. 

She knew.

Words were exchanged, and he had purred in your ear and felt your body shiver, and watches as your eyes dilated, and lips wet themselves with your tongue.

He had called you ravishing, and you had accepted it. And it was the truth, you were ravishing. You were what all gazed upon that evening, and all that people whispered about. 

The Realm’s Delight had birthed the Realm’s Pleasure.

Pride and jealousy chased themselves in circles around Aemond, as he caught people watch the both of you dance. And how well you had danced, so graceful, so soft and so flowing, like a body of water. 

So perfect for him.

“I expected you to be in green for such an event.” You had snipped, and he had not bothered to give you a response. 

It would not have been dignified. 

He had thought about making a comment about your dress, about the tartiness of it all. Of how you showed far more skin than anyone else in the court, despite being above all else. But he held his tongue in his mouth as it began to feel bitter and sharp.

It would do well to not stir you. He had made a promise to his mother to behave.

Both he and Aegon had.

‘Let them show their depravity to all. Let them be the ones to land the first blow against themselves. Do not give in to their beastly ways.’

But how was he to resist? 

He was a man, and there was your fire. 

It made him want to hit you and kiss you all at once.

And as you slowed to a stop, you had looked up at him and given him a small smile, which he had prayed for all evening to see. A smile in which he had wished for all day, and craved like a man starved. 

For in the Red Keep, Aemond was alone in a desert, walking amongst the sandy hills, heat beating down upon him, and then you had smiled. And it was as if he had tasted the cool, wet of water on his tongue for the first time in years.

Like that smile, such a small one at that, where your lips pulled gently to the side and your cheeks rose, gave him all that was needed to sustain him for life.

“Thank you for the dance, uncle.” 

And he knew then, that he would need it again, and again, and again, lest he succumb to the dry desert wasteland and die.

Aemond watched you courtesy and race away back to the table, where he trailed slowly, watching your hips sway through the crowd of people, who also looked on.

They should have their eyes plucked from their skulls. 

He committed their faces to his memory for this purpose alone.

The young Prince watched you excuse yourself to the garden. And he thought that if he sat at the table, he could resist the urge to chase after you. He had sat back down, his mothers eyes watching him curiously, and the heat of Daemon’s gaze violating his person. 

And he had done such a good job of sitting, he had even pulled his goblet to his lips to sip, before his urges won over, and he stood from the table, excusing himself, to look for you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[12th-shavie]

Octopath Traveler II delayed playthrough blogging

[10 hours in]

Contains light spoilers of some early chapters I guess

I started the journey with Agnea because she looked like a sweetie (and she is) and she really has the most jrpg "leave of this small village to see the big wide world to make your dream come true" beginning

I got her to allure a villager that replenishes SP with every dancer skill she uses and she's been the cornerstone to most battles ever since

The second traveler I got was Partitio and he's a funny lad, I love his vibe, hat, jacket, and speech ! Also, the atmosphere of his storyline was a nice dramatic change of pace after the cozy first one I got

I headcanon that Roque's betrayal was in fact very much a divorce with Partitio's dad and I cannot wait to see how that applies to future chapters (I do hope it ages like fine wine rather than milk)

Partitio's combat performance was pretty solid despite a lack of AoE but the weapon variety for breaking was the early highlight

I ignored the fork in the road that lead to Hikari in favor of recruiting Castti because I wanted a healer and I feel slightly guilty (but also not at all)

Castti is literally so nice to people I can't wait to see if she really has an extremely shady past that will torment her for at least 1 chapter before she decides that she's going to be a good noddle in spite of all

Her concocting is pretty fun but I wish I had more diffusing serum (I can make do with latent power for now but it'd more fun to let her do some fun nuking)

Castti is also extremely tanky (she's the only one I have with over 1k HP so far) so she was a very welcome addition to the party

The next step in the journey was recruiting Osvald (I wanted to start with him but the 2 forced chapters made me decide to instead make him the reward for reaching the eastern continent) after I ignored the boat that lead to Ochette and wandered around until I stumbled upon a boat that lead really close to Osvald on the map and eventually found him face-down in the snow (which makes my decision to no start with him even better)

His first two chapters cemented him as one of my favorites beyond the visual vibes I got from the first selecting menu, and his skillset was a cherry on top

AoE magic nuking when I already have some buffing and BP donating in my party ? I'm sold. Free weakpoint reveals every battle ? Even better ! Osvaldo battle voicelines ? Yes please !

After that I found the scholar license and decided that Agnea should also learn to buff spell intensity to make my Osvaldo nuking engine even stronger (she's been doing great and I'm very proud of her)

Since it was on the way to Agnea's second chapter for which she was at the recommended level, I went on to recruit Temenos and he did not disappoint ! He really gave me an impression of being a seemingly upstanding fellow who is in fact not only shady but just the right blend of ambiguous tease with genuine words thrown in (props to his voice acting that really sells it)

His detective moment was also pretty cool, especially after seeing the duality of his abilities to get people to follow him without risk of failure and his (very shady) coercing to get more intel

I considered replacing Castti with him as my party healer but he is very squishy compared to her, and she also has weapon diversity and more consistent debuffing over him so for the time being he's just chilling at the tavern waiting for a party composition that makes him shine

On my way to the big city I found the inventor license and could simply not resist giving it to Partitio it simply fit him too well (and more weapons to break with is very nice), although I'm thinking of changing it later to try a Temenos build that would allow him to break even more and coerce better

Now onto the big city to recruit Throné and let Agnea's story unfold further !

[mariacallous]

This time of year, I’m often thinking about latkes. As the days get shorter and colder, my main consolation is anticipating Hanukkah, and planning what to cook for gatherings with friends and family. I grew up eating latkes, as did my dad and grandparents, and it can feel like they have always been part of this time of year. But in reality, latkes are a new addition to Hanukkah.

The potato is native to the Americas and although it’s now essential to Ashkenazi Jewish and European foods, from kugel to vodka, it didn’t become a staple in Eastern Europe until the mid 1800s. This is true of many ingredients. Before the Columbian Exchange, Italian food didn’t have tomatoes and Indian food didn’t have hot peppers. With Hanukkah coming up, let’s dive into the history of how fried South American potatoes became a quintessential Jewish food.

One popular pre-latke Hanukkah food was cheese (a point for Team Sour Cream). The Book of Judith was associated with Hanukkah starting in at least the 14th century. In a commentary on the Babylonian Talmud from the Middle Ages, Rashbam wrote that just as Esther was primarily responsible for the miracle of Purim, Judith was primarily responsible for the miracle of Hanukkah. Her story actually takes place a few hundred years before the Maccabees were fighting the Seleucids, but in the oral tradition in the Middle Ages it was said that Judith was related to Judah Maccabee. The basic story is that Judith seduced the Assyrian general Holofernes and fed him salty cheese and wine. When he passed out drunk, she beheaded him with his own sword and the Israelites were able to defeat the Assyrian army. People in the Middle Ages ate cheese around Hannukah to remember Judith’s bravery.

The earliest written reference to fried pancakes (levivot in Hebrew) being served for Hanukkah comes from a 1322 poem by Rabbi Kalonymus ben Kalonymus that describes “levivot large and round, the whole size of the frying pan.” So there’s a historical reason to make extra-big latkes this year. Susan Weingarten connects this poem to a version of the Book of Judith copied in 1402 in Provence that says that Judith fed Holofernes fried cheese pancakes.

In the “Encyclopedia of Jewish Food,” Gil Marks traces the spread of ricotta cheese pancakes, which originated as a Hanukkah food in Italy and gradually spread through Europe. In Italy and Central Europe, olive oil and butter were common cooking fats, but in Eastern Europe, especially in the winter, schmaltz was easier to come by. Kosher law prohibits mixing meat and milk, so cheese pancakes evolved into being made with root vegetables like turnips or with rye or buckwheat flour. Once fried pancakes became meat dishes instead of dairy dishes, it was common to serve them with jam (a point for Team Applesauce).

As fried pancakes were becoming a widespread Hanukkah food, potatoes were spreading through Europe. It took some time after potatoes were brought over from South America for them to become a staple. People were initially wary of many new vegetables, including tomatoes and pumpkins. But because potatoes are nutritious, grow well in low-quality soil, and can be stored for long periods of time, they gradually spread across the continent. Potatoes went from being unheard of to being responsible for a quarter of the population growth in Europe between 1700 and 1900. In Eastern Europe, the tipping point to greater acceptance came with crop failures in 1839 and 1840 in Ukraine and Poland. To prevent a famine, people planted huge numbers of potatoes. They became such a staple that they were cheaper than flour, and potato latkes became the default they are today. The word “latke” itself comes from the Slavic “oladka” for a small fried pancake, from the Greek “elaion” for olive oil, and came into use by the mid 15th century.

As latkes moved to America along with waves of Eastern European Jewish immigrants in the early 20th century, the default cooking oil switched to neutral vegetable oil, a win for my personal Team Plenty of Both. This brings us to today – but the evolution of the latke isn’t necessarily over. There are plenty of modern recipes that incorporate other fried, shredded ingredients like zucchini, spinach and beets. 

If you’re feeling particularly adventurous this year, you could try one of the oldest fried pancake recipes in recorded Jewish history. Ashishim are sweet, fried red lentil pancakes and there’s a recipe for them in the Jerusalem Talmud that dates from around 400 CE. Whatever kinds of latkes you fry up this year, hopefully the taste will connect you to history and the people you’re celebrating with, and also remind you that trying out new recipes and ingredients is part of a long tradition.

[mysicklove]

Aged up Tanjiro being tied up? Excellent choices! Enjoy~ The ropes you wrapped around him felt right, proper. He felt good, enjoying how you checked in on him so frequently. He smiled and closed those beautiful wine red eyes as he let you work, squeaking a bit if you suddenly tightened the bindings, earning him a giggle. No matter what stage you two were at during this however, he always felt safe. Secure. Tanjiro was rarely afforded the true feeling of security, so your very existence gave him true comfort. That was hours ago. Tanjiro forgot temporarily just what kind of vixen you were. "A-ah! Ah! M-my love, p-please slow down, I- Hah! Ah!" Tanjiro was panting heavily as you thrusted into him, his eyes rolling back into his head as drool slipped down the corner of his mouth, soaking the pillow beneath him. You hummed, a giggle leaving your chest as you draped your front over Tanjiro's back, the muscles on his arms flexing beneath you. With a particularly hard thrust you forced a squeal from your lover. He was so cute like this, bound and helpless, simply taking what you gave him. Oh, it drove you wild. "You said you wanted me to have fun with you tonight, my sweet puppy. You're not going to be a bad boy now, are you? You were being so good for me." "N-no, I-I'll be good, I-I..I...Ohhh..." Tanjiro whined, losing himself in pleasure as you switched from simply pounding into him roughly to slow, languid thrusts that left him feeling as if he was melting into you. "You will be, how sweet. Keep whining, sweetie, I like how pretty you sound." You purred, Tanjiro letting out a drawn out moan. Just as he was relaxing deeper into you, you sped up, going back to milking his prostate, eliciting a cry from him, tears spilling down his cheeks. Tanjiro felt the coil in his stomach growing tighter, tighter, tighter. He felt like he was burning up, his blood rushing under his skin as cried out over and over for you. He didn't mean to. Not without your permission. Tanjiro's cum soaked the sheets below him, you paused, fear bubbling in his chest. Instead of scolding him, you tsked. "M-my love? A-Are you-" "You're going to cum as many times as I tell you, puppy." You spoke sternly, Tanjiro's heart dropping to his stomach at your selected punishment. "We'll start small. Five more times, sweetie." You cooed. Tanjiro got a couple of strange looks from his friends the next day during training. "Gonpachiro! What're those weird lines on your back and arms?" Inosuke interrogated, Tanjiro turning bright red. Zenitsu started screaming when he realized just what Tanjiro was doing the night before. The poor boy was so embarrassed. You simply smirked when you passed by him in the gardens of the Butterfly Mansion.

oh glitch, you are KILLING ME

[sol-consort]

Whenever someone questions "what does it mean to be human" what they're really asking is "How much of me is truly me?"

Because how do you even define the human experience? When empathy and love can be found even in the deepest of oceans amidst the most fearsome of killer whales.

Or is it a question regarding our purpose. Because we can understand what it means to be a bird by simply observing one, we can understand what it means to be a plant by studying one. As if they're all born with a purpose, with a passion in mind with reserved seats at the grand meaning of life.

Are other species born with a purpose? Do the asari find it laying around through their early couple hundredth years? Do the salarians know what food is going to be their favourite before the first bite. Just how much of what it means to be a krogan is engranged in their biologically rather than sociology, Is that why Grunt struggled with the desperate need to fit in? Was it hereditary or acquired?

You look at a turian, and you see their bright future, the way they stand with pride, the way they honour their tribe. You look at a hanar, and you wonder how they adjusted to being a fish out of water with such grace at all times, how effortless they made it look, how divine.

What do they see when they look at us? What's the purpose written across our earthly skin and hungry eyes. Do they see an open book of emotions? An animal learning to crawl? A bunch of kids playing pretend, wearing their special uniforms and clumsily navigating the jenga tower that they built a government system out of.

We claim to be problem solvers at heart, but we end up breaking the things we fix more often than not. We say creativity is our speciality, but we box our definition of what counts as art.

We desperately want to be something, but we're not. We're a blank slate being constantly carved onto with a hammer and chisel. We're not born knowing how to swim, We're not born knowing how to make art, invent things, or start wars. We can only cry, and even that gets taken away in the shortage of time.

But maybe that's the point, fish can't talk, snakes can't walk, and I can't read minds.

That there might be some wisdom in this, some deeper meaning. Or maybe it's as deep as the earth's crust and is just hiding in plain sight.

We created language because we cannot read minds, asari had no reason to, so their language and poetry are ass. that's why it took them so long to master writing and passing down information accurately.

We somehow preserved our genetic diversity because we kept eating everything that's not nailed down. We licked those instead. This is why we have so many dishes and little allergies, why we can get around with one heart, one liver, and one spine. At any point, we could've exclusively just eaten potatoes or whatever is the easiest grain to plant and forced our bodies to adopt with time, but we didn't. We liked the diverse taste of different dishes, we enjoyed the different flavours the world offered, we hunted for meat and we aged wine, we churned milk into butter and cheese, we preformed all these convoluted steps just in order to create something that makes us feel good, that tastes good.

There are paintings on cave walls as old as time, there are colourful handprints of your younger self somewhere on your childhood home, be it left over melted chocolate or actual paint or your mom's lipstick that she dropped.

There is something in us doing this, something that feels like me. There is something in my brain that makes me love the moon and long for the stars, there is something in your brain that makes the mental image of a waterfall in a forest actively slow your heartbeat down, try it right now.

There is something that makes the oceans look inviting when other animals would avoid it not to drown. Something that makes the horizon tempting, the large mountains taunting, the abyss of space alluring, the unknown worth exploring.

It's the effort. They look at us and see someone who thinks all this convolution is worth the effort, that reaching the moon with spaceships with less power than the phone you're currently holding was worth all the risks. That learning to fly was worth all the engineering, that antarctica was worth living in a freezing hell.

They see a human with a purpose of their own design, be it just having a good time or defeating death itself once and for all. They see passion personified, love pushed to the extreme as a conscious decision rather than some built-in evaluationy gene.

They a species who won't back down, who won't take the easy way out, who won't stop trying to just have a good time in general.

[lnkedmyheart]

Tbh I low key kinda dislike fics where Dazai does sh and has a vague unspecified eating disorder? One which doesn’t tend to have consequences it should other than vague weight loss from what I’ve seen. Like I get that it’s for the angst(tm) but those things just doesn’t strike me as especially in character, and they tend to really milk it. While ignoring that he is pretty much canonically an alcoholic in favor of the fanon issues/vices. Instead they make Chuuya the alcoholic, despite the fact that if Chuuya were an alcoholic he would 1) have way more alcohol tolerance, and 2) not have wine as his drink of choice, since wine is not the first choice you choose when you want an alcoholic beverage to drink with the purpose of getting you drunk

Most wine collectors aren't usually alcohol addicts especially since Chuuya mostly seems to pop open expensive well aged wines for special occasions only. Even Koyou brings up that Chuuya is opening his super expensive wine one of the two times he is seen drinking in the main manga. And the other time he mentions opening his own wine is when he tells Dazai he opened a horrifically expensive one as a "celebration" when he defected. And the one time we actually see him drunk is at the bar in a social setting and we already know his tolerance is ass. Chuuya is also extremely vulnerable to poisons and drugs so alcohol in higher concentration would potentially be bad for him.

Now Dazai clearly has a lot of alcohol tolerance, drinks both in social settings and alone, even then he has only been seen with hard liquor at the bar with Oda and Ango and once in dead apple when he couldn't really afford to get drunk. At home he is seen surrounded by empty sake bottles which could either be him not bothering to clean up after or him getting drunk either way sake is stronger than wine but not as much as hard liquors like whiskey. And the only times we see him drunk he's usually doing something else (or sleeping in wan).

As for sh and ed in fanfics. Its really rare when they are done well. And its easy to tell when they are done for shock value or to make a spectacle or to get other characters to suddenly dote on the mc. I get that on some level its a form of wish fulfilment fantasy but sometimes its just so insensitive and stereotypical. I am also of the opinion that Dazai doesnt do physical sh because he genuinely hates pain, but that's a personal opinion.

[loominggaia]

ETIOSI CUISINE

OVERVIEW

Etios Nation is a Great Kingdom founded by gaians, for gaians. Only minotaurs, centaurs, satyrs, fauns, and gorgons are permitted to own land here, and so these species make up the vast majority of its population. Etios’ territory encompasses hot, dry plains and cold mountains, supporting a wide variety of crops to farm and animals to hunt. The Etiosi people live a stone age lifestyle out of respect for the environment, which keeps their food pure and free of toxic chemicals.

NUT BREAD

This simple but delicious bread recipe originated with an ancient tribe of fauns called the Alses-Kwaa. This native tribe shared the recipe with Matuzan colonists who founded Etios Nation, and today it has spread far and wide into foreign lands. This dense, filling bread is overloaded with nuts and seeds, primarily pine nuts, chestnuts, and almonds. Chunks of dried fruit, such as figs, are also a common ingredient. It takes a long time for nut bread to spoil, so it’s an essential snack for travelers in Etios Nation. Just one small piece provides a lot of fat, carbs, and calories.

YIYAGURT

This controversial yogurt is made from the breast milk of minotaurs. While most foreigners turn their nose up at such a dish, it is considered a normal staple for the Etiosi, especially in minotaur communities. Yiyagurt is higher in calories than other yogurt and is traditionally eaten with flax seeds. It is loaded with beneficial bacteria that is said to heal conditions of the bowel. In Etiosi culture, it’s considered taboo for males to make this yogurt. Etiosi women will not even teach their sons how to make it, only their daughters and female relatives. Eating yiyagurt made by a male is said to bring illness upon the consumer.

GRILLED HOGAWK

Pig-hawks (colloquially known as “hogawks” to the Etiosi) are one of the most common ranch animals in Etios Nation. They are large, flightless birds with sharp talons and teeth, and while they can be quite dangerous, they also produce large yields of meat and eggs. They are usually ranched by heavyweight peoples like minotaurs and centaurs, who can shrug off their attacks. This bird’s meat is prepared in numerous ways, but the traditional Etiosi way is grilled and sprinkled with seasonings, particularly tomato flakes.

GRASS

Minotaurs are the only gaians that can digest grass properly, thanks to their multi-chambered stomachs. Grass is a popular staple food for minotaurs worldwide, but in Etios Nation, it’s more than a food: it’s a whole culture. There is a world of snobbery that revolves around grass here, as Etiosi minotaurs argue about what kind of grass is best, what stage it should be harvested, and whether it should be eaten raw or cooked. Some grass-snobs will even argue about the composition of the soil it is grown in and how much it should be watered to produce the best taste. Most non-minotaurs just can’t understand all this fuss around a plant they only walk on.

SATYR WINE

Etios Nation is home to unique nature preserves, where satyrs are free to live their traditional, nomadic lifestyles in the wilderness. These satyrs produce a traditional type of wine simply known as “satyr wine”, and its recipe varies depending on the individual satyr who makes it. Most commonly, it is made from berries that were foraged from the wild. Female satyrs rarely make this wine themselves, but instead receive it as a gift from males who are trying to seduce them. A lot of this wine is exchanged at satyr revels; big parties where satyrs and nymphs congregate for days on end. Oftentimes satyrs will produce too much wine and sell the excess to Etiosi colonists. A steady flow of satyr wine pours from Etios’s nature preserves on a daily basis, so it can be found at most markets throughout the nation.

LAMSAKA

This dish is made by layering a sheet of scrambled hogawk eggs and cheese over minced mutton and tomatoes. This is a favorite dinnertime dish of all Etiosi peoples, but especially centaurs and minotaurs. It is fatty and filling, with a taste so good it’s hard not to overindulge. When foreigners think of Etiosi cuisine, the first thing that usually comes to mind is Lamsaka. It’s actually an ancient Matuzan dish from the Olive Plains region, but when this region was colonized by Etios Nation, lamsaka saw a boost in popularity and became associated with the colonizers.

BEAN SOUP

A dish most popular with Etiosi fauns. It is a creamy soup served in a gourdskin bowl, loaded with beans, tomatoes, corn, and chunks of squash. Etiosi bean soup sends most consumers running to the bathroom due to its very high fiber content, but faun bellies are well-suited to handle it. In fact, fauns can become fatally ill if they don’t consume enough fiber, so many fauns eat this soup as an everyday staple to keep themselves healthy. When eaten in small portions, it is a healthy choice for other peoples too. Traditional bean soup is vegetarian, as fauns don’t digest meat very well. But when prepared by other peoples, it usually contains mutton or poultry.

YIYATSI

Yiyatsi translates to “breast drink” in Kwaanese, the ancient language of the Alses-Kwaa tribe. A fitting name, for this drink quite literally comes from the breasts of female minotaurs. Yiyatsi is consumed worldwide, but is most common in Etios Nation simply due to the sheer concentration of minotaurs living there. Female minotaurs are well known for over-producing milk. They lactate for years after giving birth, produce more than a single child could ever drink, and this milk is well-tolerated by all other peoples. Because of this, it is often bottled and sold to hospitals, orphanages, and even grocers. Most peoples wouldn’t dream of consuming such a thing, but Etiosi culture embraces yiyatsi as a traditional beverage for all. It is dense in fat, nutrients, and calories, so it’s a popular drink for soldiers, athletes, and anyone looking to bulk up their muscles.

HONEY POCKET

These delicious cookies originated from the Pronga faun tribes of the Midland Jungle. However, many Pronga migrated south during the Gaian Exodus, an event which formed Etios Nation. Their ancient honey pocket recipe survived the migration and became a popular dessert for all Etiosi peoples. Honey pockets are soft, sugary cookies filled with honey and sometimes also fruit. They are traditionally served warm. This big shot of sugar is best enjoyed in moderation, as eating too many can lead to tooth decay and diabetes. Since casting spells burns calories, mages are especially fond of them. They are also a good travel snack that won’t spoil for a long time.

FISH WRAP

Raw fish is eaten mostly by Etiosi’s Aquarian population, but sometimes Terrian peoples eat it too. Terrians are at greater risk of foodborne illness from uncooked seafood, while Aquarians have the guts to resist these illnesses. The fish wrap is a dish that originated with sirenes living along Etios Nation’s coastlines. It is raw fish strapped to a piece of tofu with seaweed. Alternatively, the fish may be strapped to a pickle spear or some other vegetable. While the raw version remains most popular with Aquarians, Terrians tend to prefer this dish cooked.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[sweetkiller690]

Fuck it, Juice Bar Regular Hcs

Herb (Bloom) Cookie

Herb is 25 years old (Oldest, minus Vampire)

He is autistic and has symptoms such as a lack of fear, unusual eating, trouble understanding others' emotions, hyperfixation, and sleeping habits.

He is Wasisn (a mix between Asian and White)

Originally from a forest near the Hollyberry kingdom

5'6 (Shortest one in the group)

Bisexual, uses neoprouns (plant/plantself), and is Poly

Major weed smoker

His mother is Matcha Cookie (he doesn't know)

She left him a forest full of carnivore plants and expected them to eat him.

Instead, they raised him as his own and you can guess how that fucked him up lol

He was adopted (found and kidnapped) by Sea Fairy and Moonlight at the age of 6.

Took quite a bit for him to get over his eating habits, but currently, he is fine.

He is the owner of a flower shop with his only current employee being Tumeric Cookie (oc)

The only reason why he has one employee is because of Cookiesnap.

Stronger than he comes off as. He can easily carry Mint and Sparkling at the same time

He usually has dirt on him because of all the time he spends in his garden.

Has a scar on the right side of his face, he doesn't really remember how it got there.

Relationships

Mint choco: "I like him, he's very sweet but a little dumb. His music helps my plants grow. I love listening to his music,,

Vampire: ''He stinks of red wine but at least he is decent. Wayyyy too clingy but has good intentions. I saw him on the floor passed out once.,,

Sparkling: "He's a pussy, he faints at the smallest drop of jam. He works himself half to death. At least he makes good drinks. ,,

Sparkling (Champagne) Cookie

Sparks is 24 years old

He is Hispanic

Originally from the Hollyberry Kingdom

The only one whose father didn't leave for milk

6'0

Gay, Cis and Polyamory

Workaclohic

His mother is Strawberry Fizz Cookie

His father's name is Yellow Wine Cookie

A major disappointment to his parents

He was going to be a professorial healer but dropped out

He faints at the sight of jam.

He owns a bar (duh) and he is the only one working it.

He has a pet yellow parakeet named Cocktail

His hair fizzes a lot. He got used to it and tuned it out.

Has a mole on his the right part of his face

Relationships

Mint choco: ''He's a sweetheart, a kind cookie who never puts himself first.,,

Vampire: 'He needs to go home to his sister. He is OK?? Just done having to drag him home every night...,,

Herb: ''He is an asshole. Not everyone is fine with jam on their floor! At least he makes good blunts.,,

Mint choco cookie

He is 23 years old (The youngest)

He is Blasiain (Black and Asian)

He was originally from the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

Mint is a resulted of an entanglement with Chocolate Bon Bon and Dark Cacao.

Meaning in a technical sense Mint choco is royalty

Bon Bom left the kingdom shortly after he was born.

He doesn't know that Dark Cacao is his father.

Chocolate Bon Bon would promote toxic masculinity.

Took a while to break away from that way of thinking. And when he finally did he started to let his hair grow.

5'8

Pan, Polygender, and Polyamory

Workaholic (Not as bad as Sparkling tho)

Wayyyyy too nice to others

Keen on giving people chances, especially when they do not deserve them

Loves tall vodka

Semi-famous violinist who works off of gigs.

Has a bit of freckles because why not

Relationships

Vampire: ''He may be drunk all the time but he is still a good guy.,,

Herb: ''Oddish but I still love him no less. His garden is beautiful, with such wonderful plants!,,

Sparkling: ''He worries me, I doubt that he gets enough sleep. Go to bed!,,

Vampire (Wine) Cookie

Vamp is over 2,000 years old but is mentally and physically 25

He is white

They used to live near the Hollyberry kingdom

Vampire's father is Mulled Juice Cookie.

His mother was a cookie and has long passed away.

Mulled Juice abandoned him and Alchemist

His abandoned started his drinking habits

6'7

Bisexual, Demiboy (they/him), and Polyamory.

Way to lazy

He is just an acholic

Since he isn't a full Vampire he doesn't need jam to survive but without it, he is sluggish and low on energy.

Uses wine as a replacement for jam

Doesn't have a job but still lives in a lavish mansion

Literally uses red wine to survive

They have been trying to grow facial hair (hasn't been working)

He can see in the dark and hear extremely well but not as good a regular Vampire

Relationships

Mint choco: ''I enjoy listening to his music when I'm getting over a hangover. ,,

Herb: ''He is a good pillow... ,,

Sparkling: ''His great... I love all the wine,,

The sillies