#I shall drink it all up like she drinks her wine

[niceminipotato]

A lot of those stories you recommended are really good!

not sure if you ever read the following:

Dimitrescu Books by ghost_n_butteredtoast

A Lady & Her Huntress by Vionette_In_The_Dark

Old Addictions Die Hard by LogJammer9000

Knotted Up by sapphicsiren

These are pretty good as well if you ever want to check them out, if you haven’t already.

Hey there!

Ok so I have Old Addictions Die Hard and A Lady and Her Huntress in my to be read. Like literally looked for them the other day but haven’t had the chance to start. The other two I don’t know so I’m going to go ahead and look for them.

Thank you, thank you for giving me more. You’re the best Anon ever 😘

[vhagarys]

The Conquerer

brother!aegon x reader, sister!helaena x reader

summary: aegon decreed he’d take both his sisters for wives. luckily, you and helaena were already quite taken with each other.

warnings: smut, canon-typical incest, oral, breeding kink, oral fixation, voyeurism, licking?, reader LOVES her brother and sister <3

MDNI

Following in Aegon the Conqueror’s footsteps, your older brother Aegon decreed he would take both his sisters to be his wives.

This decision was not met joyfully by his mother nor the hand. However, his position warranted no argument and soon he exchanged vows and blood in the tradition of your house.

Luckily for him, you and Helaena had taken a fondness to each other from a young age. Practically tied at the hip, you two were rarely found without the other at their side.

As the years went by, that fondness began to morph into something deeper. A twisted desire for one another that never seemed to wither.

Behind closed doors you and your sister ravaged each other like men starved. Devouring each other body and soul, with an almost endearing desperation to please one another.

The two Targaryen girls each harbored the blood of dragons and fire, showing itself in their unwavering passions for one another.

This arrangement soon became common knowledge to the other members of your family. Your brothers Aemond and Aegon never batted an eye. Such incestuous endeavors had remained common practice in your house for generations.

Aegon knew any attempt to separate the pair of you would prove futile, thus wedding you both seemed a kindness on his part.

After a night of drink, feast, and revelry, the bedding ceremony was soon announced. With a faint blush to your cheeks, you and Helaena were both escorted to your shared chambers to prepare yourselves for your lord husband.

“You lucky bastard,” Ser Criston Cole slurred as he sat down next to the king.

Aegon smirked and lifted his goblet, “Given the title of king must come with some benefit, should it not?” he took a large swig of his wine.

“Who am I to marry now that you’ve stolen both of our sisters away,” his brother Aemond scowled at him, jealously etched all over his features.

“Perhaps a new tradition is in order, hm? I shall not only marry to my sisters, but i shall take my brother as a husband,” wine escaped through ser criston’s nostrils as he howled in laughter.

With a disdainful scoff, Aemond promptly stormed out of the room.

“I must take my leave to bed my two beautiful, blushing brides,” Aegon loudly announced before his made his way out of the room and towards his chambers.

As if the prospect of bedding you both did not excite him already, upon peeking through the doors he almost released in his trousers untouched.

You were completely bare, you lower body hanging off of the bed as your older sister held your hips with her mouth attached to your cunt.

You whimpered and wreathed beneath Helaena who aggressively licked and slurped at you like a man deprived of water for days.

A sheen of sweat appeared on your hairline as you held tightly onto your sisters silver tresses.

She reached up to pinch and pull at your nipples and your moans grew louder, whinier.

Seven hells, he gaped to himself.

He stood right at the doorway, though he knew neither of you had an inkling of his presence.

His mind blanked save for the scene before him. he stood frozen in place, immediately reaching to release his cock from its confines and began to stroke himself.

“Kostilus ivestragī issa māzigon jorrāelagon mandia,” you cried out. Your body beginning to spasm and chasing after your incoming peak. (please let me cum sister)

Offering no more than a hum, Helaena tightened her grip on your hips and pushed her face deeper between lips. Her harsh sucking on your clit sent you barreling into climax.

Aegon fared no better. He was hypnotized by the erotic scene, his wives caught in the throes of pleasure.

After a moment, your breathing began to steady and you sat up. A gasp escaped you as you registered your brother pleasuring himself, eyes feasting on the pair of you.

A low growl left him as he tugged at his dripping cock. You briefly met each others gaze and just as quickly you and your sister climbed from the bed and stalked over to him.

A cruel smirk graced your lips as you stood behind him and lightly pressed your nose to the sensitive spot of his neck.

“It seems our husband is quite the pervert, mandia. He’s been watching us,” your hand delicately pushed a lock of his hair behind his reddening ears. (sister)

Aegon couldn’t bring himself to stop. He stroked himself faster, aroused at the proximity of the two of you.

“I’d say he’s enjoying himself. Tell me, did you like watching me devour our little sister, lekia,” Helaena muttered in his ear as her nails scraped down his chest. (Brother)

“Gods,” Aegon practically whined as he felt both of your hands roaming over his body.

“Relieve yourself, husband. Let me see you make a mess of yourself,” you whispered with a hint of cruel delight in your tone.

With a final grunt, he spilled his spend all over his hand and trousers, knees on the verge of collapse after experiencing such a strong release.

Helaena grabbed his hand and led him to sit on the bed. With no more than a quick exchange in glance, the two of you kneeled between his parted legs, admiring his soaked clothes.

Your mouth began to water at the sight of your brothers spent cock. Helaena could see the hunger cloud your eyes and a wicked idea soon made its way out of her mouth.

“As his wife, it is your duty to clean your husband, sweet sister. You don’t wish for him to be uncomfortable, hm?” Helaena mused, a devilish grin consuming her features.

Already feeling a pool of arousal in your small clothes, you met Aegon’s exhausted yet wide eyed gaze.

“Of course, my king. I live to serve you,” and you leaned forward and began to hungrily lick his seed that began to stain through his trousers.

Never breaking eye contact, you moaned at the addictive taste of him. You could feel your slick began to seep through your small clothes and onto the floor.

You didn’t care, you were consumed with the need to please your brother and sister.

After you deemed his clothes cleaned, you immediately moved to his shaft, lapping up each drop like a kitten.

Aegon could feel himself hardening once more. He watched in sick delight at his baby sister, lost in the taste of him.

If only I knew what a slut for cock you were sooner, he thought.

Your sister couldn’t help but grow aroused at the depravity before her.

Grabbing you by the nape of your neck, she turned your head to face her.

“Show me,” helaena commanded. Ever the obedient sister, you stuck out your tongue and presented the sticky, white substance that coated your tongue.

Beyond impatient to taste, she surged forward and met your lips in a filthy swap of tongues. You groaned as you felt her wet muscle lap up the remaining seed in your mouth.

You both gripped onto each other for dear life, lost in the lustful moment.

Consumed with the need to claim both of his wives, Aegon pulled you away from one another.

“Desperate little things, aren’t you,” he cooed.

Both of you gazed up at him with ferocity. he almost came once again at the sight.

He watched a line of drool slip from your lips and promptly scooped it up with his thumb. without being told, you obediently opened your mouth and allowed Aegon to push his digit inside.

Eyes glossy, you suckled at his finger until clean and swallowed. Aegon couldn’t hide his fondness for your easy submission, knowing you’ll take whatever he gives you.

“This marriage must be consummated, and I must fulfill my duty as your husband and pump my seed into your little cunts until you swell with my heirs, hm?”

You both whined at the dirty words.

Extending his hand, he roughly pulled you both on the bed and began to tear through the layers of your sister’s gown. Exchanging in a ferocious kiss, you watched the two dragons battle for dominance.

Your brother reached down to rub his fingers through her wetness and soon your sister was reduced a whining mess beneath him.

You watched them consume each other, and when both pairs of eyes landed upon you, your cunt throbbed at the prospect of what was to come.

authors note: i need more helaena content !!!!! also, enjoy!

- alice +++

[daydreams-after-dark]

Haii babes

Hear me out okay. Younger neighbor living next to DILF Chan and he's having a BBQ with all his middle aged friends like Minho, Changbin and Han and he invited you over. Obviously you have to dress your best (to get fucked) and it turns into a gun activity amongst the 5 of you 😫. PLEASE IM DYING ABOUT THIS

Holy shit! This ask came in and it instantaneously unlocked something in me! I was about to go out and meet a friend for coffee and the whole drive over I was thinking about channie and his friends fucking reader!!!

The idea of middle aged Chan and his friends, using younger reader like a little whore has got me rather turned on. Maybe it’s the voyeur in me wanting to see her getting absolutely ruined by the mature men? I don’t know and I’m not going to question it.

I just want to write something downright filthy (because this is the after dark blog). 😈😈💀💀

Just to clarify, the asks is meant to say “fun activity” not “gun.”

Oh and I just have to mention that this is basically 3Racha plus Minho…. Which I’ve always said is my ultimate dream! 🫠🫠🫠🫠 i'M SUCH SLUT FOR THEM!!

Ready? Here we go. Buckle up, it’s going to be pure filth!

CW: age gap - chan and co are in their forties (but very energetic) and reader is 22, implied consent, objectification, praise, name calling, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, double pen two holes, gangbang, blow jobs, cum eating (m and f), cream pie, slapping, spanking, hair pulling, rough sex, nipple play., videotaping

Your neighbour, Chan, is a filthy man. At first glance he is quite polite, very good looking, and a wonderful resident of the neighbourhood. But it's just an act. You know this from the way he sits on his upstairs balcony watching you whenever you sunbathe in your backyard.

It feels thrilling knowing he's watching, and the next time you sit in your backyard to sunbathe, you take your bikini off entirely. He doesn't even pretend he’s not looking.

You wonder if he'd come over and fuck you if called out to him? Probably. He seems like that kind of man.

One glorious spring day, Chan invites you over for an evening barbeque. "I'm having a small gathering of a few of my close friends, and they'd love to meet you." he smiles kindly, crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. But there's a deviousness behind them.

"Of course! I'll be there."

From what you’ve seen, his friends are hot too, and so of course you're ringing Chan's doorbell in your shortest sundress, tiniest panties, and tallest heels you own, balancing a platter of finger food in your hand.

“Y/n! Thank you for coming. Everyone has been waiting for you.” He guides you through his home to a closed in outdoor entertaining area at the back of the house.

“These are my friends.” He gestures to the three men sitting in outdoor couches around a low coffee table.

“This is Changbin, Han and Minho.”

You smile and wave at each of the men, exchanging pleasantries.

There are snacks spread out on the table in front of them, along with empty glasses. “Chan, shall I help poor drinks?” You offer. He smiles and tells you where to find the wine.

As you go retrieve the bottle of wine you take a moment to catch your breath. They are all so fucking handsome. You think to yourself, and you’re glad you decided to dress cute-slash-slutty.

“Here she is.” Smiles Chan as you walk back out.

“Drinks, boys?” You chime, holding up the wine, and all four men hold their empty glasses ready for you. You make your way around, being sure to bend over and stick out your ass to give each of the other men a view up your short dress, whilst smiling innocently at the man you were pouring a drink for.

You hear a few mumbled “fucks” and you know they’re eyes are glued to your ass cheeks poking out from underneath the dress.

“Y/n. You should come sit down. Take a seat.” said Chan.

You stand up and look around, but there isn’t a chair or space for you to sit.

“I think Chan means go take a seat on his lap, princess.” The one named Minho chuckles.

You turn to Chan who’s sitting with his legs wide and his arms outstretched along the back of his chair.

Oh. That’s exactly what he means. You can see it written on his smug face.

Quietly, you make your way over to Chan and carefully perch yourself across his lap.

He sucks in a breath and wraps an arm around your back. His other hand comes to your knee and squeezes it gently. “I was just telling the guys about what you and I get up to on the weekend.” He smirks.

“W-what do you mean?” You ask.

“Oh you know perfectly well, babygirl.” He says sternly. “How you put yourself on display for me.” He inhales the skin on your neck, causing you to shudder. “And they want you to show them what you show me.”

You look around at the men. Han is snacking on some crisps like this is an everyday situation, Changbin has the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen, and Minho looks like he wants to eat you.

You gulp.

Chan slowly unzips the back of your dress and pulls the sleeves down your arms until your tits spill out. He immediately attached his mouth to a nipple, then he pulls off with a loud pop. “So young. So supple.” He says approvingly groping at your breast.

“How old are you, y/n” Changbin asks curiously.

“T-twenty two.” You squeak.

“Perfect age.” He licks his lips.

“Old enough to fuck rough, and young enough to teach a lesson.” Minho stated.

“Hear that, babygirl? They want to play with you.” He whispers low.

Fuck! You bite your lip and grind ever so slightly on Chan’s thigh. He notices the small action. “You like that idea, don’t you? You gonna be our little whore for tonight?”

His hand slides up your dress to find your soaking panties. “Thought so.” He chuckles, pulling them to the side and pushing a finger into you.

“Fuck! Oh god… Chan.” You choke as he thrusts his fingers into your tight wet cunt.

“Hmmm… I think you mean daddy.” He corrects you. “Now bend over. You deserve a slap for that insolence.”

You looked at him questioningly, and the other men snicker.

“I said bend over, you need to be spanked.”

You move to lay across his lap, and Chan lifts your dress to reveal your ass.

"Hmm, scrumptious piece of meat." ogles Changbin.

"Bin, pass me the cheese knife...thanks, mate."

Your eyes squeeze tight and your breath hitches as he carefully traces the knife up the back of your thigh, before using it to slice your tiny little panties right off.

He tosses the knife back on the table and spreads your cheeks so the other three can see your glistening pussy.

"She looks like she'll be really tight." mumbled Han, his mouth full of food. "Do you think she'll be able to take us all? You know what we're like once we get started."

"She looks trainable." said Minho.

"Now, I think five spanks, should be enough." Chan concludes, and you secretly smile to yourself. You've can easily handle way more than- "Ahhh...Fuck!" you cry when a hard slap lands directly on your pussy. His hand comes down again. Slap! and another one. God, that stings.

"Just three more." Slap. Slap. Slap.

He pulls your dress down your body and slides it off your legs and tosses it to the floor. "Up we get, babygirl. Sit up now." Chan cooes.

You sit up with tears down your cheeks and look at the three other men. They all have their cocks out and are stroking their lengths.

"What do you have to say for yourself." Chan caresses your thighs and nuzzles into your breasts.

"S-sorry, d-daddy." you whisper.

"That's it. Good girl." The praise makes you feel good, and it makes you want to please him more.

"Now, I need you to go and suck Han's cock." He helps you onto your feet. "Go. He's waiting for you." he urges you on.

Naked, except for your heels, you make your way to Han. You feel wobbly on your feet from the shock of being spanked, but at the same time you've never felt more turned on in your life.

"Here, doll." Changbin stands up and directs you to kneel where he had been sitting and lean down and take Han's cock deep into your mouth. "Yes. This way we can have a bit of fun with you at the same time Han is fucking your throat." he adds.

"Baby, ahhh...ngh... fuck your mouth..." Han hums as you give him the best head of your life, taking him all the way into your throat. "Mmmh...you've sucked cock before haven't you, baby. ahhh...like a fucking pro." he holds your head down and thrusts into you, making you choke. "One of my favourite sounds." he adds.

Changbin spreads your ass cheeks and rubs the pads of his fingers around the entrance to your pussy, making you moan around Han. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Changbin. Split her open for us." Minho says.

"Is our little toy ready to be played with? hmm?" Changbin chuckles as he pushes his cock into you. You let out a muffled cry as Changbin's girthy cock stretches your pussy open. He's so thick, but you're so wet, and once he is fully seated inside you, he starts to fuck you.

His thrusts are slow, deep, measured, and so powerful that you really are being forced to choke on Han's cock. Together, two men use you like a fleshlight, like a pretty toy to fuck into. Their hands explore your body in a rough, animalistic way, and you're fucking loving it.

You know that Chan and Minho are watching you from their chairs, probably jerking off and dying for a turn of you.

"Fuck...your pussy...so fucking tight..." he digs his fingers into your hips and slams your ass back onto him. "That's it...fuck...show me how you fuck yourself..." he releases his hands from your body, and stops thrusting entirely, making you back yourself onto him over and over again.

You can barely breathe, your makeup would surely be ruined by now, between the sting of the spanking and choking on cock, your face is surely a mess.

"Fuck. Coming." choked Han and you feel spurts of his hot cum hit the back of your throat. "Take it, baby. Such a good slut." he pants, emptying himself in your mouth.

Changbin abruptly pulls out, causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness, and he pulls your head off of Han by your hair. "Open, quick." he grunts and bullies his cock into your mouth. Three harsh thrusts and he's coming on your tongue too. "Show me, doll. Good girl." He nods in approval when you show him you swallowed every drop. “Belly full of cum.”

Han gets up off the couch to find a snack and a drink, and you almost collapse face first into the cushion. You feel Chan move behind you, spreading your cheeks again for a good look at your used hole.

"Babygirl didn't get to cum did she?" he mocked. You shook your head whimpering. You are so close, and your core feels so tight that you are going to snap at any moment.

You hear the sound of a cap from a bottle and then a familiar feeling of cold lube being applied to your asshole. They're going to fuck your ass.

"Shh... Daddy's just going to loosen you up." he purrs as he begins to prep you for his cock. You rest your head on the cushion and give yourself to Chan, letting him finger fuck your ass until he is three full fingers deep. "Taking me so well. Now for you to feel my cock, yeah? It’s gonna be a tight fit.”

He removes his fingers and presses his cock to your hole.

“That’s it…Good girl…Look at you taking daddy’s cock so well.” He praises as he pushes into you slowly. “Your tight little hole loves to be stretched… doesn’t it. Answer me.”

B-yes…loves to be stretched.” You pant.

“This is what you think about isn’t it? Me deep in your ass.” He starts to fuck you, withdrawing slightly, then pushing in deeper on each thrust. You can’t help but cry out, moan and whimper as his thrusts steadily become faster.

“Next time you’re out in your backyard naked, I’m gonna come around and fuck your ass….just like this…” he pants.

“We’ve managed to hook it up.” Changbin says excitedly.

“Babygirl. Look.” He whispers. You look up to the wall mounted flatscreen to see a close up of your ass with Chan’s enormous cock fucking into you. You turn your head back to see Changbin videoing the action, then your eyes return to the screen to watch your hole being abused.

Han comes to your side to reach underneath you to play with your clit. “You gonna show us how you come, baby?” He smirks.

“Oh fuck! Fuuuuuccckkk!” You squeal, coming hard.

“Good girl! Now daddy’s gonna fill you up. Ready, sweet thing?” His hand comes down to slap your ass.

“Yes, daddy. Fill me up. Need your cum.” You plead.

Chan groans as he releases himself deep in your ass and withdraws himself.

“Princess. Over here right now.” Minho snaps.

You haven’t even a chance to recover from your orgasm, as you stumble over to Minho. “Sit on the coffee table. Spread your legs for me.” He pushes you down to sit in front of him and shoves your legs open. Then he’s suddenly kneeling between them and lapping at your cunt.

You throw your head back and moan. The man knows how to eat pussy, and you’re not sure you will ever be go back to go back to lacklustre oral.

Minho’s mouth moves down to catch the cum leaking from your ass. Now that’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever witnessed.

“Which hole you gonna fuck?” asks Changbin.

Minho pulls away from your pussy and lazily fingers your cunt. “I wanna DP her. Han. You haven’t fucked get yet.”

Minho sits back in his chair, pulling you on top of him and spreading your legs over his. He pulls your heels off and instructs you to press your feet into the cushions beside him and lift yourself up. You do as he says as he lines his cock up with your ass and slowly lowers you onto him.

“S’deep.” You choke.

“Mmm… you feel perfect, Princess. Such a pretty little cockslut for us aren’t you? Gonna be filled with so much cum by the end of this. Full of cum and your holes fucking gaping.” He smirks against your cheek. His hands squeeze your tits as you grind on his cock.

“Come on, Princess. Not getting tired I hope? C’mon, bounce on me…put on a show for the camera.” He hisses.

You’ve forgotten they were recording you. You muster all the energy you can to bounce up and down Minho’s cock and watching the screen to see your hole swallowing it up with ease. Fuck! You are a slut. And you’re fucking loving every second of it.

“Han. Come on.” Minho growls.

Han positions himself in front of you and lines his cock up with your cunt. “Have you done this before, baby?” He asks you.

You don’t answer, you’re about to come again.

“Hey!” He slaps you across the cheek and you come hard around Minho’s cock.

“Fuck, she just came. She’s clamped up. Fuck… quick… Han, fuck her now.” demands Minho.

“So our little lady likes to get roughed up. Huh?” Han shook his head In disbelief, and then groaned low as he pushed his cock into your pussy.

“Oh!!” You groan. “So…full… you’re splitting me in two… shhhiiittt.”

You’re not new to anal sex whatsoever, but you’ve never taken two cocks like this.

“Babygirl…” Chan tugs you by your hair and you turn your head to the side to take his cock in your mouth.

Changbin is on the other side taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock. He’s still holding his camera, aiming it from above, and managing to catch everything that is happening.

All four of them are using your body at the same time. Minho fucking your ass, Han your pussy, and you alternate between Chan and Changbin as they fuck your face.

Your hair is being pulled, someone has a hand wrapped around your neck, your nipples are being pinched and slapped, and Han is spitting on you.

They pull another orgasm from you before moaning and growling as they fill you up with their cum.

Eventually, they pull themselves out of you, they say their farewells, leaving you and Chan alone.

He carries you bridal style to his bathroom, runs you a bath and tucks you into his bed so you can rest.

“Such a good girl for daddy.” He whispers as he slips in bed beside you. “We need organise another gathering soon.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23

[the-fiction-witch]

A Star P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Sweet Word Count - 748

As the night deepened, Aegon kept a watchful eye over Orion any time he so much as wiggled Aegon was there looming over the crib. Although his own eyes were tired and heavy, he diligently remained by the baby's side. When it reached the hour of the wolf, Aegon gently picked up Orion and carried him into the bedroom and gently began to awake Y/n, just as promised. He knew she must be feeling exhausted and did feel bad for waking her but he didn’t want to call the milk maid in to feed baby Orion without at least asking Y/n how she felt about it given Orion had only been at Y/n’s breast since birth. "Y/n, it's time... Orion is hungry," he said gently, his voice soft but determined.

She yawned and sat up in bed a little she rubbed her eyes and opened her arms for the baby almost as instinct,

Aegon nodded and carefully placed Orion in her arms. The baby let out soft mewling noises, clearly hungry. As she took Orion into her embrace, Aegon positioned a pillow behind her back to provide some additional support. He knew that feeding time could be physically demanding, especially after giving birth and he sat himself down on the bed ready to help out any more if needed,

she sighed and pulled down her dress, it took a good few attempts to get Orion to latch to her breast but finally the baby began to drink and she sat trying to relax but her eyes squeezed tight from the pain

Aegon watched as she struggled to nurse Orion. He could see the pain etched on her face as the baby latched on. It was evident that the process was not easy, and he felt a pang of guilt for not being able to fully understand the pain she was going through. He gently rubs her back and trying to provide some comfort. "Is there anything I can do to help, or anything you need?" He asked softly, genuinely,

"you could grow breasts that would help," she joked in her tried state,

Aegon chuckled softly, "Ah, I'm afraid that's not in my power. If I could grow breasts and feed our son, I would do so in a heartbeat." He continued to gently rub her back, offering what little solace he could provide during this moment. "I wish I could take some of this pain away from you."

"It's alright it shall only get easier," she said, "Could you fetch me a drink I should really drink when he feeds so it has time before the next feeding I don't want little boy to find the teats are tapped out,"

Aegon chuckled lightly at the request, nodding in agreement. "Of course, I'll fetch you a drink. Do you have any preferences or should I just bring you something sweet and warm?" He carefully rose from his seat, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder before making his way out of the room to fetch you the desired beverage.

"Whatever you have… but wine would be nice. Strong wine"

Aegon smiled at her request for strong wine, appreciating the straightforwardness. He quickly made his way to the nearby table and made a goblet up of strong wine. As he walked back to the room, he couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight. His wife sitting there nursing a small infant, so he hands the goblet over, "There you go... strong and intoxicating just as you wanted."

“Thank you, Your Grace,” She nodded immediately drinking about half of the goblet,

“You don’t have to call me that, you’re my wife, mother of our child,” He told her,

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, just Aegon,”

“Yes, you- Aegon.” She nodded, “Ohh all done, he wasn’t as hungry as he thought he was,” she said taking Orion away,

“I’ll take him,” he smiled happily taking little Orion again and wiping the milk from his mouth, “oh look at you, milk all down yourself,” He chuckled, “he really is like a little drunk,”

“Umm he’ll be milk drunk now, needs burping and a nap,”

“Alright, I’ll burp him and put him down. You get some more rest,”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, you rest I’ll handle him.” he smiled kissing her cheek before he puts Orion on his shoulder and behind to burp the baby on his way back to the main part of their chamber,

“Aegon?”

“Yeah?” He turned,

“Be gentle,”

“I will I promise,”

“And… thank you,”

“You’re very welcome Y/n,” He blew her a kiss before closing the bedroom door,

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!dancer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, reader is a ballerina, mention of alcohol, abusive employer near the beginning, not beta read

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: la seine

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the first time he saw you, he was in denial of the fact that he was, once again, lost.

it wasn't his fault! nami ditched him in favor of viewing the rows and rows of stalls featuring all sorts of glittering jewels, and before he knew it, zoro was at a loss on where he was.

choosing to wander till he found something familiar to guide him back to the ship, he was drawn to the sweet sound of laughter, clinking glass, and soft music.

without looking up to read the sign hanging over the boisterously decorated building taking up most of the left side of the street. it was probably just a bar anyway.

so he slipped inside, meaning to find a place at a counter to order a drink, when he found himself running into a podium and faced with a woman in a suit, her expression sultry as she said, "here for the last show?"

Zoro blinked down at her, lips parting. He wasn't about to let her make him look stupid, so he settled her with a stern glower and nodded.

"You're just in luck," she purred. "We've got one last seat, and you're just in time to see our principal lady."

"Right," he nodded once more and, after casting a look at the enticing exit, turned back to the hostess. "You've got booze?"

Her smile glimmered. "Just ask and ye shall receive. We have an assortment of liquors here at Le Palais de Cerise!"

Zoro followed her down a dim hallway into an even dimmer grand room. It looked something like an opera hall, with tiered rows of half-moon booths each facing a large stage.

Blue lighting shined from lanterns hung on the ceiling, casting the place in an eerie yet mystifying glow. All around the booths and tables were occupied by guests dressed much finer than Zoro, sipping on glasses of fine wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres.

The hostess brandished an arm as she showed him to a smaller booth at the very edge of the third tier away from the stage, closer to the center aisle running between two halves of the room. It was a pretty good view, nearly right in the middle of the stage.

"Thanks," he muttered distractedly, slipping into the booth and slouching instantly. "Get me a bottle of sake, yeah?"

The woman grinned widely before turning her back, her smile falling into a sneer. Now alone, Zoro got comfortable on the cushion of the seat, deciding this place wasn't too bad of a napping spot, when the lights brightening the stage faded to black.

Violins and flutes started to sing from a pit around the edge of the stage, coming alive as all conversation died out. Zoro stiffened, shifting to sit up right as his hands fell to his swords at his side.

"I hear it's her last show," sighed a young man to his friend at the neighboring booth. "We're insanely lucky."

Zoro's eyes adjusted to the dark just as a spotlight shone down on the parting ruby curtain, and out came a dozen girls dressed as the petals of a flower, twirling on the very tips of their toes. Instantly, Zoro was fascinated.

How they hopped around and danced like that without breaking something, he hadn't a clue. Zoro was on the edge of his seat before he really realized it, and barely made a sound of acknowledgement when a bottle of sake was placed beside him.

He came back to reality long enough to take a long drink, yet when his gaze returned to the stage, the music tingled to a suspenseful, drawn out theme. The flower petals stood in two diagonals forming a V and arced their arms around to present whatever was approaching.

From the left of the stage rushed a woman donned in a dress of dark red, the skirt branching out at her waist and barely dipping with each of her movements. Her bodice was lined with black and gold lace leading up to a sweetheart neckline. Not a hair on her head was out of place. Her every movement had a purpose.

The ballerina was perfection on earth. Zoro nearly wanted to remove his gaze from her, lest he taint this apparent angel.

She nearly floated with how she glided her feet, coming to a graceful halt at center stage, at the peak of the petals' V, and presented her arms as if to say here I am!

All around the audience applauded her for her presence alone, and Zoro found himself lazily meeting his palms together as well.

The music swelled as she extended her arms to cross and pointed out a toe, hopping forward as her arms gradually lifted over her head, before she leapt into an arabesque and pattered across the stage.

Behind her, the V of petals crossed the stage to the opposite side they were on, halting in unison on a tall and extended pique.

The main ballerina continued to glide this way and that, commanding the entire room, no fault in her every twirl, leap, and scurry.

Throughout the entire performance, Zoro watched dutifully, his attention never once departing from you.

And upon the stage, with the blinding lights casting the audience in a gray shadow, you swore you felt something tangibly heavy in the way they looked at you now, though you couldn't place a finger on why.

You only knew that when the music climaxed and faltered, and the curtain lowered on you and your friends, that as the lights grew dim, you caught sight of someone leaving the theater, a set of swords glinting at their side.

It was no surprise when flowers upon flowers arrived at your little room near the back of the theater.

You were known across the city and ones around it for your grace. People came from every which way to watch you dance the same dances, on the same stage, with the same people night after night after night.

You were bored, to say the least.

For ages, you ached for the thrill dance had once brought you. To not know every move by heart, to have something to learn rather than perform out of mere memory.

You missed what it was like to make mistakes, because they made success all the more sweet.

It was why that night was your last performance at Le Palais de Cerise. The next day, you would set sail with a family of merchants you'd met the week prior, and visit lands you'd only ever dreamed of.

Hopefully, some day, you'd find the thrill once again.

But there was Madame Cerise to think of, the owner of the theater hall, and she was not so ready to let her prized ballerina slip away.

"It would be a shame," she said to her brutish son, "if our dear angel was robbed of all her money. How would she pay for escape then?"

Zoro wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd like to be, but he didn't really need the alcohol anymore. Not when all he could think of was how the hell those dancers didn't break their toes.

Looking left and right, ensuring no one was out on the streets with him, he attempted to balance himself on the very tip of his boots, immediately teetering forward and nearly twisting his ankle.

He spit out a curse, pushing back his shoulders only to slump forward again and trudge down the street. The streetlamps flickered here and there, the night breeze chilling his bare arms.

"Stop! Stop, please!"

Zoro whipped around, eyes peeled, and zeroed in on the alleyway ahead to his right. The pleading voice echoed as three burly shadows tripped and stumbled out onto the street, sprinting away.

He was halfway into a pursuit when he caught the tell-tale sound of crying. Faltering to a stop just outside the mouth of the alley, he made out the silhouette of someone in a crumbled heap on the ground.

You glanced up from cradling your skinned and burning palms to your chest, hiccuping. Finding yet another shadow lurking there, you bit back, "I've got nothing left! Run back to Cerise, you--you mutt!"

Well, that didn't exactly make him want to help you, but then, in the dim lamplight, he saw through your tear stained face and found the ballerina who'd enchanted him an hour before.

He didn't know what to do, feeling odd with an unsheathed sword in hand as you glared at him, awaiting his next move. Zoro cleared his throat. "You... danced nice."

You eyes flickered all over him before you broke into yet another round of sobs, somehow managing through it, "Yeah, and I'll be dancing nicely till I'm old and wrinkly and dead. Ugh!"

Clawing at your arms, mumbling more to yourself, "I'm such a fool... Why did I think she'd let me go..."

You were too caught up in picturing the rest of your mundane life to realize Zoro was approaching you, only jerking away from him when he knelt in front of you.

His sword was back in its scabbard, and despite the scar over his eye, the other one was nearly soft. But there was nothing soft in the way he asked you, "Who won't let you go?"

A long story short, le palais de cerise went up in flames a few days after, and you found yourself sailing away not only with the promise of adventure, but with the promise of friendship.

and the hint of something more, judging from how zoro acted around you.

It was comical, really. Once, the swordsman had been a wall of stoicism, never to be toppled. And now this woman with all the grace and poise of a swan comes in, and he’s toppled like a feather in the wind.

Not that the others would complain; he wasn’t so grouchy when you were near, the tautness in his brows softening at the very sound of your voice.

Nami and Robin often teased you about Zoro's little crush, and you never paid them any mind—you’d think twice before admitting to having a soft spot for your crewmate.

Still, it was obvious something was there.

He always tended to be near you whenever he wasn’t training or asleep. Whether you were sitting around reading, or listening to music on a gramophone Nami may or may not have stolen for you, Zoro was likely to be there, laying at your side, content with the company.

You never failed to save him a seat at breakfast, waiting even when the others got up to start working, knowing Zoro would walk in later than the rest all grumpy and tired.

Zoro stood at your side like some kind of guard dog, especially when outside the safety of the ship.

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t look after yourself! It’s just, well, you can’t exactly fight.

“So teach me,” you snapped back, not appreciating being treated like glass.

Zoro sputtered, unsure if you’re serious, and promptly sets down his fork in favor of matching your stare from across the table.

Before he could say anything, Robin stood to put up her plate and said, “That��s a good idea. Everyone should be able to defend themself.”

You could have kissed her, grinning as she winked and wandered off. 

“You don’t need to,” Zoro blurted. 

Nami smirked as she took a sip of her water. “Why’s that?”

His reply was instant. “I’ll protect you.”

Your cheeks warmed. “That’s sweet, but you won’t always be there.”

He glared at the prospect, as if to say watch me. 

“If Marimo refuses, I would love to teach you, darling—”

“Shut up!” Zoro faced you, narrowing his eyes at the little smile you gave him. “We start tomorrow.”

Snickering, you lurched forth and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, jumping to your feet before he could even register what had happened. “Thanks, Zo!”

Whilst you made a hasty exit and Sanji started to yell at Zoro, Nami couldn’t help her excited gape as she locked eyes with Robin. The dark haired woman grinned cheekily, watching Zoro stare blankly into space. 

“She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

Zoro did not go easy on you, and you didn’t exactly mind too much. 

You wanted to get better. That was the only reason you were out here, in the blazing sun, watching Zoro’s chest as it heaved underneath his thin shirt.

Okay, maybe not the only reason. But the main one was definitely learning to protect yourself! 

You learned quickly, sometimes even beating Zoro out on the deck in the morning, purely excited at the chance to train with him.

He had wandered into the girls room to get you, only to be confused when all he found was Nami yelling at him to get out. 

And when he saw you practicing your form with the sword he’d bought with you on that last island. 

Zoro knew you were graceful. He’d seen it the first time he ever saw you. Grace was a word so wrapped up in his view of you. 

But fuck—you were anyting but graceful with a sword. 

Each of your movements were stiff and rigid and sharp. How hadn’t he noticed it before?

So he came up and, without really thinking, reached around to grab your wrist, taking your elbow in his other hand, caging you between his arms. 

You’re not quite sure how you didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

Only after your eyes met did Zoro realize the predicament he’d gotten himself into—and promptly sprang away from you, complimenting how fast you caught on and beelining back into the ship.

You weren’t sure you could take much more of that. Not before you acted on one of your many urges to kiss him senseless.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer.

So long of the crew’s teasing, slight grazes of the hand, and longing stares all led up to one night aboard the ship, lost in the music and sea breeze.

Zoro had been trying to take another sip of his drink for a while now, but each time he brought his glass to his lips, his eyes were dragged back to you, and Zoro’s breath hitched as he lowered his hand once more.

You were effervescent, your smile never wavering as you twirled and stomped around to the beat of the melody strumming from Brook’s guitar. You had caught Usopp in a waltz now, dragging him with you as he stumbled to keep up. A laugh bubbled up and out of you, and Zoro’s chest seized. 

Nami rolled her eyes, growing tired of watching Zoro be so hopelessly infatuated. “Would you give it up? Do us all a favor and just tell her already.”

The swordsman barely cast her a glance, finally managing to get some sake down his throat to sooth the anxiety welling in his chest. “No clue what you’re on about.”

“You’re impossible,” she scoffed, standing while setting a hand on his shoulder. “And just plain sad.” Nami had skipped off to take your hand before Zoro could snap back at her, and he watched from his seat as Nami spun you around, dragging another chuckle out of you.

Sighing, Zoro lowered his gaze and settled on remaining seated the whole night, allowing you to have your fun without dampening it with his useless conversations. 

A figure plopped into Nami’s abandoned seat, and he was prepared for another tease, when your voice loftily inquired, “Zoro, you’ve been sad all night.”

Instantly, his head lifted to look at you and your slight smile. Your chest heaved up and down, still exhausted from dancing circles around the deck. He set his glass down, shifting his knees to face yours. “I’m fine. You tired?”

Your huffed sigh was answer enough, pulling a scant grin out of him. Your face lit up at the sight, and your eyes took a slightly warmer tone. “I know your answer already, but do you wanna dance?”

He nearly said what you expected—no—before it sank in that you had expected it. For him to deny you of something you wanted. Zoro’s eyes flickered all over your pretty face, his heart beating fast, and he nodded, much to your surprise.

“Really?” You tried to hold back your smile. “I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You nearly squealed right then and there, settling for beaming at him whilst you scooped up his hand and pulled him to his feet. Your smile was coy and his was stifled, but everyone could see it. You took both his hands in yours and leaned back, spinning the both of you around.

From somewhere nearby, Sanji was scoffing and Usopp was whistling, but Zoro hardly even heard the music anymore. All he was conscious of was you and your snickers, of how your touch ignited his skin, of his stumbling feet, of how you drew him closer with a slight tug on his hand and wrung your arms around his neck.

Brook, as if on cue, began to strum a softer song, something akin to a slow dance. It drew a grin on your face, your eyes fluttering closed. Zoro’s heart jumped and his right foot crushed yours. He apologized swiftly as you winced, somehow still giggling at him. Angel, he thought.

Zoro couldn’t breathe. Not when you looked at him like that. His hands froze at his sides before they inched closer to you, hovering over your sides. Your eyes were shut, and he admired you unabashedly, leaning forward till his nose brushed your own, jerking you from your reverie to find him a breath away. 

His eyes widened after locking with yours, sputtering another apology as he attempted to remove himself from your vicinity, cursing himself. Your hands intertwined around his neck, holding him in place as all sense of caution fled your body. One last look into your eyes had Zoro lurching forward, catching your lips and relishing in the feeling of your thumb grazing his cheek. 

How an angel like you could hold a demon like him so lovingly, he wasn't sure. Zoro vowed to spend his life trying to find out, remaining at your side dutifully till the end of his days. You certainly had no objections, doing your best every day to convince him he indeed deserved your love.

The others never let you hear the end of it. Every “about time” made you that much closer to smacking someone upside the head. 

After your feelings were revealed, not much changed. The dynamic was still there, with the added physical intimacy when far from the prying eyes of the others, of course.

Zoro liked to lay his head on your legs while you read, and he’d never say it out loud, but he loved it when you carded your hands lazily through his hair. He didn't exactly need to tell you though; his contented sighs and following snores were enough.

He’s still not much of a dancer, and you respect when he’s just too tired to entertain your twirling and whirling. But sometimes, on days where he’s been up so long he starts to feel energized, he’ll take your hand and drag you onto the floor of whatever bar he’d brought you to. 

He's terrible, finding no rhythm no matter how hard he tries, and he settles for simply swaying along with you.

(You're in no place to tease him for it; you're just as out of place with a sword in hand).

Funny how you both held such grace in your separate fields of passion, yet lost it all the moment you try the other's craft.

Zoro still short-circuited every time your lips brushed his cheek, even if it became a habit of yours whenever leaving his side. 

Princess. Treatment (Or as much as he can give).

He’ll bully you if you start complaining that your feet hurt, but he’ll let you cling to his back like a koala all the way back to ship while doing it. 

Whilst walking around whatever city the crew was stopped at, he’ll have one arm around you at all times, really only letting you go when you weasel out of his arms to go listen to the little band playing music on the street corner. 

(He stands guard at the front of the crowd, eyes peeled whilst you distract the watchers long enough for Nami to pickpocket each and every one of them. And when he’s inevitably so caught up in watching you, someone notices Nami slinking off with their wallet. The three of you race through the street and around a corner, laughing till your sides ache).

Zoro will help you destroy all your dead pointe shoes from your days on Cerise’s stage, having no need for them on the sea, slamming the shoes by the ribbons against the deck of the ship till Usopp yells at you for leaving scratches on the deck. 

He has a little too much fun with it, and you’re no different, feeling free of all bitterness and anger with each shoe that you snap in two. The others are only slightly concerned about the violence of it all, leaving the pair of you alone when you and Zoro melt into laughter like children.

You try to teach him to waltz one day, because he was hopeless on the dance floor with two left feet. When he tried to escape it, you simply replied, “I want to dance with you… and keep my toes too.” “Hey!”

An hour must have passed, and Zoro still couldn’t process exactly what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to. He narrowly missed your toe again by stepping forward when he was meant to step back. 

Zoro grunted, dropping his arms from your waist and putting a wide berth between you. “Forget it.”

Grinning softly, you took his chin between your thumb and finger, catching his frustrated gaze that melted once it met with yours. “It’s fine. You’ll get it eventually.”

He scoffed as if to say yeah right, and you took that personally. Raising a brow, you lowered your gaze to your feet, then to Zoro’s, before a grin tugged at your lips. “I know! Here.”

You hooked your arms around his neck, getting up close and personal as you gently stepped onto his shoes. Zoro tried to remain stoic, but it all fell through when you brushed your nose against his and dragged a little chuckle out of him. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked fondly.

“Dancing,” you laughed. “This way, you can’t step on my feet.”

“But now you’re stepping on mine.”

“Hush. Just—spin around. I dunno.”

His hands settled on your hips, his eyes rolling to the side despite the light blush on his cheeks giving him away. Zoro grinned slyly and wrapped his arms around you, tottering from one foot to the next in a swift whirl. You squealed his name into his neck as he lifted you up, spinning the both of you around and around till you could barely breathe, you were laughing so hard.

Your feet touched the floor as Zoro’s sight got too dizzy, his deep laughter rumbling in his chest as he leaned into you for balance. You gripped his shoulders so he wouldn’t take you down with him, running your hand up the back of his neck to card through his hair. 

He pulled back, smiling dazedly, and you shook your head at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Eh,” he said, ducking to hover his lips over yours. “I think I’m getting good at this dancin’ thing.”

Your scoff was muffled against his kiss, deep and slow. He grinned against your mouth, taking the first step forward to lead you back to his bed. The door to the boy‘s cabin swung open, instantly followed by a sharp scoff.

You broke away from Zoro to find Sanji standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed at Zoro’s back. “Whore,” he spat, his eyes softening on you. “Not you, my dear.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” you said with a roll of your eyes, watching as Zoro’s good mood flew out the window as he glared daggers into the cook. “Welp, dance class is over.” 

They were arguing before you ever left the room, their tones escalating surprisingly fast. “Bye, boys!”

There was a lull in the shouting before the sound of Zoro lumbering down the hall (did he just run into the doorframe?) echoed after you. “Hey, angel, wait!”

You turned, giggling as your graceless boyfriend stumbled to a stop before you, one arm resting on the wall beside you to steady himself. He too started to smile after catching the soft one on your lips, his other arms reaching to pull you close by your hip.

"I'll practice," he promised softly, his nose gently brushing your own.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. I'll sweep you off your feet once and for all then."

He kissed you then, softly and full of intention, so you didn't bother to say Oh, but you already have.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

[divinesolas]

Admirer

r.q: Hello! I love your writing! And especially when you wrote the Aegon x f!reader where the reader is shy and it’s all just cute and stuff. could you write something similar with Aegon x f!reader where the reader is again shy but has a huge crush on him? Like she’s a high born lady and secretly writes him letters and leaves stuff in his chamber like for example his favorite wine she saw him drinking, flowers, fruit and other things. Aegon doesn’t know who it is from because the two never talked. But once happens that when she’s putting again some gift into his chamber he catches her. Then some smut if you would be comfortable writing it and eventually he marries her and everything? Because Aegon feels appreciated and loved finally from someone. I want our Aegon to feel some love. Thank you!

w.c: 1.2k

c.w: highborn!f!reader, angsty aegon, kinda corny aegon, proposal ?, no actual smut but heavily implied, DRABBLE !! not proofread

a.n: will prob expand on this in the future bc i love this idea a lot but for now i hope this drabble is good <33

‘you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen i look for you in every room i enter’

‘My affections know no bounds when it comes to you’

‘I hope you shall smile to my prince for your smile is the most glorious sight’

‘you make my heart race and soar’

It had been over a month since the beginning of him receiving gifts each day, each attached with a small love letter to him. He had no clue where these letters and gifts were coming from. when he brought it up to his mother she shook her head and said she had no idea along with questioning some of the handmaidens who also had no idea. it was like a ghost, everyday around the same time late at night he would enter his room and a new gift would be there.

He had thought he was being pranked, that the karma from his past jests was finally catching up to him and he was finally being punished. there was no way someone truly felt this way about him, nobody looked for him in any room, nobody enjoyed seeing him smile. they had to be pranking him and he was very determined to catch you, because you continued to jest with him knowing his favorite wine his favorite desserts for gods sake you had even left him some bandages one time after he had been walking around with a cut on his cheek from an accident.

He was now determined to catch you, to stop this foolish game, to stop himself from thinking it was even real, but he had no clue how to even catch you, you were like the wind and he had no bases to even start from.

He had spent yet another day running around searching for any sorts of signs about this mysterious person and came up empty handed once more. He had been back earlier than usual, when he pushed open the door to his room he stood frozen in shock as the girl in front of him squealed, dropping the plate of cranberry pie on the ground.

He couldn't recognize her, he could tell by her nicer dress however that she had to be from some important family, his eyes fell to the table in which you were standing next to and he noticed a small note. It had been you. the person who was leaving him all these gifts and notes.

“What is your name?” Shaking her head unable to lift her head to look at him, “i am so sorry my prince i-” “Your name?” You give him your name and he rolls it off his tongue easily, testing it out. He quickly closes the door and makes his way swiftly to stand next to you before grabbing you chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Who put you up to this?” A confused look finds its way to the girls face and she shakes her head, “nobody my prince?” the statements ends with a question, unsure of what he even means in the first place.

He takes a second to admire your name, your eyes, every detail of your skin and for a second he hopes its real and that a pretty girl like you truly liked him. “then why have you been leaving me gifts?” he expects you to finally admit it now, that you had simply been toying with him.

You had been helaenas lady in waiting for almost two months now and it had been some of the best times you’ve ever had. The princess is kind, the people are kind enough but what really is a blessing is getting to see Aegon almost everyday. Ever since you first arrived in the keep you had kept your eyes on him, you had thought he was the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Despite how much you wanted to you couldn't find the courage to go up to him and introduce yourself. Being a member of the great house tyrell you should have this great confidence about you but you never were able to be as outspoken as your siblings so if you really wanted to express yourself you decided you would have to get creative.

You figured out he was always out of his room and the maids weren't in his room during a very specific hour of the day and had just decided it would be easier to now have to face him to give him notes of your affections. but today the prince had come back to his room earlier than he usually did leaving you in this situation. You hadn't figured out what you were gonna say because you had never even really planned on telling him it was you.

“I just rather like you a lot my prince.”

Ever since then he had basically been glued to your side, followed you around everywhere and begged you to join him for meals. It was odd. you had gone from him never speaking to him to him wanting to see you every moment of the day.

One night in particular you had not seen him all day oddly enough and you don't expect to see him, until you’re sitting in front of your mirror preparing for bed when you hear knocking on your door.

You have no clue who could be coming here so late but when you open your door you barely get a look at him before he walks past you and heads straight to your bed laying face down on it.

“My prince?”

He groans and just rubs his further into your pillow. You walk over carefully and place your hand on his lower back. “Is something wrong?”

“missed you.” He hums as you begin to rub up and down his back, “i missed you too my prince.”

“They kept me from you all day.” He pauses for a moment and when he begins to speak his voice is laced with venom. “They want me to marry some bitch from the north.” You pause, your heart breaking into a million pieces as you think about him going off and marrying someone that's not you. “oh…”

He sits up, looking at you with cloudy eyes, you can now smell the wine on him, “I told them no. That i would marry nobody.” you look down at your lap as he moves closer to you, laying his head on your lap. “Nobody if it was not you”

“my prince?” You whisper at him as he presses his cheek against your naked thighs, your night gown having ridden upwards “your father thought it was a wonderful idea. my mother was so mad i thought she was going to smack me in front of them all.” Your breath gets caught in your throat as he grabs your hand and presses it against his cheek. “My prince?” “Call me Aegon my love.”

“what are you saying?” He looks up at you, grabbing you neck and pulling you down so your facing are right next to each other, “marry me.”

“Why?” Mirroring his own question that had been asked not too many moons ago, he looks at you with a wide grin as his eyes drift to your lips, “I guess i just rather like you my love.”

He presses his lips against yours and hums forcefully shoving his tongue in your mouth in a heated kiss. You fall back with him on top of you, his hands sliding to your thighs to push up your night gown to your stomach completely exposing you to him. His fingers lightly rub against your folds “Aegon,,” “Allow me to show you how much i love you.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

you know that photo of princess diana asleep at some “royal engagement” and it turned out she was pregnant at the time ? anyways I can’t help but imagine what would happen if aemond wife were to fall asleep at some engagement, meeting, etc

One Eye Open When I'm Sleeping

ONE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYEEEEEEE

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond has been noticing a shift in your sleep pattern. He had his suspicions but didn't make note of it to you up until he unceremoniously announced it to everyone.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, wife!reader, misogynistic rats, mentions/depictions of pregnancy symptoms, ready to stab at any given moment & protective!aemond, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i resuscitated myself into my aemond craze. tbh idk what happened with this fic i hope you enjoy tho nonnie. ALSO I LOOKED UP THE PICS OF DIANA AND SHE IS SUCH A PRINCESS SUCH A BABY GIRL IF SHE GOT SHIT FOR THAT I SWEAR I WILL PUT A HIT ON EVERYONE WHO SLANDERED MY QUEEN Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @risefallrise @sloanexx

Aemond drew circles on your back as he looked down at your sleeping form. Normally, you'd both be up and about at this time, awake far before the sun reached this height in the sky.

His reason was sleep did not come easy and came fast with him. Or at least that was before his darling wife came into the picture.

You on the other hand, his darling wife, were an early riser by choice. Not only do you enjoy watching the sun rise with a chirp and a smile at the start of the mornings, but you had also been accustomed to do so because of your mother.

This was why your continued slumber, flush, snoozing form snug against him, was something he had mentally been noting. He had no complaints. Why would he when his beloved bride was so comfortably nuzzled in his chest? Which also, in turn, allowed him to sleep longer. He noted it anyway still, at the forefront of his mind.

He noted your appetite changes also. And to this he was less permissive, especially in moments where you felt sick.

In this moment, he had the staff lined up by the side of the table as Aemond chewed his first meal of the day slowly, watching you intently as you did the same.

You licked your lips and offered a guilty look to the servants.

Aemond knew you would wait for the world to be in ruin than ever complain about anything.

"Wonderful meal," you smiled, turning to Aemond with a pleading look to let them be.

With a single nod he did, eyeing the head cook that eyed him back on her way out.

Aemond had various possible explanations for your eating patterns, for the queasiness, the lack of appetite, the intolerance for some food, and the immense cravings for others. One in particular, the most obvious and plausible of them all, you were with child.

He grabs your cup of wine before you could drink from it and offers a smile. You roll your eyes at him, thinking he was merely trying to tease you.

Aemond made it a point to divert the attention from you to the staff though. If you feel the need to vomit because of the meal, then they shall be reprimanded, and if you feel like you could eat the whole day, then they shall be rewarded.

Today it seems Aemond would need to speak with them and your intolerance to spinach.

And speak he did. You scowled deeply at him after for doing so and nagged his ear off for being so 'cruel' to the staff for the past week, simply because you were feeling under the weather. You told him the maesters gave you medicine for your ailment and that it was a problem with you and not the food.

Little did you know there was actually no real 'reprimanding' going on, at least not in the way you pictured it.

They were in on it.

The servants, the maesters. Aemond had been investigating with them the subtle changes you've been having. It was the head cook, Susana, who also happened to be a mother of five, that informed Aemond she was nearly certain you were with child.

All that was left was the maesters to verify it. Aemond's decision not to tell you until he heard the word from your measter stemmed from knowing how you'd be if in case he was wrong with his hunch. He knew he wasn't, but he wouldn't risk getting your hope up nonetheless.

But damn, he hadn't planned for you to learn of it like this. Though, had he not said it, he'd just killed the man in cold blood instead.

It happened so quickly.

"Say that again," Aemond blurted, face twitching, hands stretched out at the side of his body.

The lord ,who made the mistake of singling you out in the middle of the meeting, the meeting you were not even a part of, all because you were an easy target, scoffs and gives Aemond an incredulous look.

You had woken up from the nap you hadn't realized you took in the middle of it all because of Aemond's loud voice.

The lord pointed as he fumed, "your insolent, pretentious wife has done nothing but mock my house since the moment you've arrived!"

Aemond lets out a chuckle. Make no mistake, he was severely unamused.

He was about ready to lunge at him from your side of the table, but then you had managed to perk up and grab his hand. You look at up at him from where he stood next to your seat, hand quivering in your touch out of anger.

It was a wonder Aemond managed to speak in such a manner that did not give himself away, "I assure you, my lord, if my wife wished to mock you, she'd have done it before you bored her to death with your prolonged distractions in a manner so kindly, you'd not even realized she spat at your face."

The lord scoffs in utter disbelief, "you fucking c-"

"I, on the other hand, would gladly openly mock you and your pathetic excuse for a treaty," Aemond mutters, shaking your hands off him. "You think me a fool for your conditions? Any moron with one eye could see how you're trying to play me-"

"Aemond," you whisper.

But it was too late, Aemond lunged to him, slid across the table, and tackled him to the ground, pulling out a blade he kept always in his back pocket. His eyes were blown as he overpowered the man with a raging intent to seriously harm him. He mutters under his breath, "beg for your life."

"Aemond!" you cry out, running to him as the rest of the people in the room do the same.

Aemond watches at the man's face struggles against him. The prince chuckles dryly, "shall I execute you in front of your men?"

The man growls, "get him fuck off me!"

A few men begin to close in on him.

"If any of you touch me, I will slit his throat from ear to ear," Aemond raises his voice.

You begin to panic, "Aemond, please, enough of this."

"No," he barks back, eye not leaving his target, "he ought to beg me not to skin him for not only insulting me," he presses his dagger closer to the cretin's skin, "wasting my time in showing amity by even bringing my wife along this damned trip, but also for demeaning the one person that has kept me patient this whole bloody time!" Aemond rages. He begins to see red, "that person carrying my child, you dumb fuck," he grit his teeth, fury ablaze all over again.

Your eyes widen at your husbands words. You gasp when the man yelps when Aemond nicks his jaw.

He scoffs, "you call her insolent and pretentious, for what? Expressing indications of child bearing?!"

The man in Aemond's clutch begins to lose the color of his face.

Aemond looks down at him.

"I- I did not realize-"

"Of course you didn't realize, you dimwitted ninnyhammer," Aemond hisses, "you treat your own very evidently expecting wife with worse disdain."

"Aemond, please," you mutter rather weakly.

He snorts at the sound of it. He weighs his options.

He stills when you call out to him again.

Fine. He shoves the man back and gets off him, eyeing him darkly as he made his way to you. Once he did, he puts keeps his blade and takes your face in his hands. Part of him begins to be eaten away at the sight of your teary eyes.

But then he's infuriated all over again.

"Your grace, I-"

"Do not speak to me unless you want to lose your tongue," Aemond deadpans as he turns over his shoulder. He grabs your hand and walks out, "you needn't worry about a deliberation for your treaty. May the Seven help you with your endeavors against the crown."

[kana-daydreams]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 || 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨(𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐀)

summary: Zoro surprises you with a compliment and you express your appreciation with a surprise of your own—by unintentionally stealing his first kiss. genre: fluff cw: added just a li'l bit of spice wc: 3.3k kana's notes: This was originally suppose to be a drabble, but ig I couldn't help myself😓. Anyways hope you enjoy my fellow Zoro lovers :D

“Told you it was a waste of time.” Nami drawls as she continues to peruse through racks of clothes searching for an outfit to wear for tonight’s dinner while you sit, sulking in a corner next to a discarded heap.

“You don’t have to rub it in y’know.” You lift your head from off your knees to peer up at your friend with a pout. “I’m already regretting all my past decisions.” You say, feeling heat bloom at your cheeks as you recall the couple of model worthy poses (well at least you think they were) you’d mustered up the courage to perform in front of a certain green-haired individual as you tried on multiple styles of clothes ranging from cute to elegant along with a few that showed off some skin— none seeming to had piqued the swordsman’s interest. Not even shamelessly batting your lashes had been enough to earn an ounce of a reaction from him except for his concern that something might have gotten stuck in your eye.

You release a stifled cry at the embarrassing memory, plopping your head back down onto your knees.

“Why did I have to fall for someone incapable of giving a girl a decent compliment?” You say, your words muffled by the fabric of the outfit you’re wearing.

Fishing for compliments wasn’t a habit of yours and seeking validation for your appearance, especially from a guy, definitely wasn’t either. You knew you were a hottie— by your standards anyways. It’s just that you really had somewhat of a thing for Zoro who you’d known for some time now, and hearing him compliment you for just once in your life, no matter how small it was—even if it was only a single word—would be more than enough to send you, having lived a fulfilling life, right to heaven’s pearly white gates.

“C’mon, it’s not the end of the world.” Nami crouches down at your level, giving you a tender pat on the head and you peek an eye open at her to notice that she’s changed into a beautiful and traditional chinese dress; its red colour complementing her ginger-orange hair. 

“I’ve already told you, you look great. Sexy and cute— a deadly combination.” She gives you a wink and you giggle lightly at the action. 

“Thanks, Nami.” You smile.

“No problem.” She lightly pinches your cheeks before standing to her full height. “Now let's finish getting ready, shall we?” She extends a hand down at you. “I have a bet to win.”  

You playfully roll your eyes, remembering her bet with Luffy before taking her hand, the two of you making your way out the grandeur of the closet.

Later at night, under the dazzling lights of a grand chandelier, you and the rest of your newly formed crew along with Usopp—a boy you and the others recently befriended—stand scattered about the spacious foyer of Miss Kaya’s home, awaiting the birthday girl’s presence as you mingle and indulge your taste buds with lavish delicacies being served around on silver platters. 

While you and the crew wine and dine, Zoro stands amongst his own company near the staircase, nursing in his hands, his fourth glass of cocktail—deep brown eyes pinned on your form standing beside Luffy and Usopp.

He watches as you converse with them and as you chow down on platter after platter of food like it’s the last meal of your life alongside Luffy, his gaze drinking in your every smile, your every laugh and the adorable expressions you make as you stuff your cheeks full with every bit of food that comes your way.  It makes him wonder if you and Luffy are having a full on eating competition at the rate the two of you are going.

He only takes his gaze off you when he realises his glass is empty after he goes to chug some of the liquid down, discarding it onto a nearby end table laden with a few more empty glasses alike.

His eyes then search across the room for the server, wanting to satiate his taste for more alcohol, flitting over in your direction when he hears the sound of your voice calling his name. 

“Zoro, you’ve gotta try these!”

Zoro watches as you approach him with animated steps and glances down at the tray you carry in your hands to see chocolate, pink and milk-white covered squares.”

“Is that cho—”

“Yes! And it’s really good!” You bounce on the balls of your feet, the action making Zoro suspect that you’d had way too much chocolate than your sweet tooth could handle. 

“Here, you should try this one.” 

“Chocolate isn’t really my th—” Zoro cuts himself short when he sees one of your hands pick up a chocolate-coated square, offering it to him.

He looks down at the piece of chocolate pinched lightly between your fingers, then back up at your face beaming with a wide smile and then around the room at everyone occupied either in conversation or eating, before returning to settle his gaze back onto you. 

He heaves a sigh. “Does it have alcohol?”

“I don’t think so, but I can go ask if there's any wi—” 

“No, it’s fine.”

Zoro stops you before you can leave, and you watch as he leans forward a bit, shuts his eyes and slightly parts his lips, his actions causing your head to tilt slightly in confusion.

Your questioning look, however, doesn’t last long, slowly fading away and morphing into one of surprise when your brain registers the purpose of his actions.

You almost heave a cough, feeling heat creep up your neck; burning at your cheeks while your hand remains extended with the chocolate held between your fingers as you continue to stand there, unmoving, simply staring up at him— up at a sight you never quite expected to see or would ever see. 

When Zoro doesn’t feel any sign of sugary sweet pressing against his lips, he peeks an eye open to see you staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

“What are you waiting for?”

“N-Nothing!” Your voice immediately squeaks out.

Zoro only lets out a hum at your response before once again closing his eyes, waiting for you to feed him the chocolate square.

You swallow hard. And your heart rate picks up as you inch the chocolate closer to his mouth, its beat increasing more so when the tips of your fingers brush against his soft lips.

When Zoro feels a sweet warmth mixed with a hint of salt melting against his tongue, he doesn’t have much of a reaction and simply opens his eyes to look down at you.

“I-It’s good? Isn’t it?”

Zoro nods. “Yeah.”

Silence.

“Okay, well, um..I’m gonna go,” you say with a nervous chuckle, pointing a thumb behind you. “Gonna see what else they uh, gotta eat.” You slowly start to reverse your steps, bumping into the server behind you as you do, almost knocking her over along with the full platter of food in her hands.

You profusely apologise to the woman who sends you a disapproving glare before continuing with robot-like movement back in the direction you came, unable to see the hint of red that colours the tips of Zoro’s ears and also the way his gaze lingers on your retreating figure, all the while he stands there regretting that he still couldn’t find the courage nor the right words to tell you how beautiful you were in the outfit you’d chosen to wear tonight, and how cute, pretty—and sexy you looked in the many more he had watched you try on. 

When Kaya’s birthday dinner unfortunately comes to an early close due to her outbreak of rattling coughs, she’s kind enough to allow you along with your friends to stay the night unlike her overprotective butler who wasn’t keen on extending your stay, especially after Luffy and his big rubber mouth revealed that you were pirates.

However, instead of lying, snuggled under the thick, warm blankets of a queen size bed, you traverse through a dim-lit hallway in search of the kitchen to help yourself to a midnight snack.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given up on looking for Luffy.” You murmur to yourself as you continue to amble along the empty halls with no sense of direction as to where you were going, involuntarily releasing a gasp when your body suddenly collides into another, one more firmer than your own, just as you round a nearby corner.

You look up at the figure that slightly towers over your form, a much less startled expression on their face. 

“Z-Zoro?!” You breathe a sigh of relief at the swordsman’s presence. “Thank the heavens you're not that scary butler. What are you doing here?” Your eyes dart down to the three swords attached to his right hip.

“I’m looking for a drink.” Zoro watches as you place a hand across your chest, attempting to calm yourself down from the jumpscare he’d unintentionally given you. “What about you?”

“Food hunt.” You look back up at him with a small smile.

“...Right.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you notice Zoro’s gaze fall behind you and on instinct, you turn around to see where his eyes follow. 

“Where’s Luffy?”

The swordsman expected that if you were here; Luffy was here, as the two of you seemed to be joined at the hip everywhere you went, especially when food was involved.

You turn your gaze back to him. “Back in his room, I guess.” You say, your hand no longer attached to your chest trying to calm your racing heart. “I did plan on inviting him, but I don’t know where his room is.”

Something that wasn’t your fault since you were the first to be assigned a room and didn’t get to see where the others’ rooms were. 

“So…” you drawl and Zoro glances down at you to see your lips curve into a mischievous smirk. .

“Since Luffy isn’t here...” you continue. “Wanna be my partner in crime instead? You know, help me scour the kitchen for some gold?” You suggest, with a slight wiggle of your eyebrows.

Your words seem to pique the swordsman’s interest as similar to you, a smirk pulls at his lips and he makes a gesture with his head for you to lead the way and you do, him falling in step beside you.

Apparently, you taking the lead was not the best idea when it came to navigating through a house designed like a maze—a fact you should have known with hindsight—as you and Zoro still continue to roam around the mansion like headless chickens for what seems like about an hour. 

“Why is this place so huge?!” You groan and release somewhat of a frustrated cry, already feeling the urge to quit your endeavour of a kitchen raid. Though, you do not act on the tempting idea since you have no clue of the direction you and Zoro came from—the soft grumbles of your stomach doing little to curb your frustration.

Zoro, as he walks beside you, remains silent at your mini-breakdown, his head craning in your direction when he hears you speak again.

“By the way,” You start. “How was the party?” You ask, trying—key word, trying— to keep your mind from being occupied by the thought of food and mostly because you couldn’t let the opportunity of your alone time with Zoro slip past you.

“The alcohol was good.” 

You wait to hear if he will add more, but he doesn’t, not surprised that his reply ends rather abruptly.

“Yeah, it was.” You agree.

Zoro arches an inquisitive brow. “You drink?”

“Not exactly. But the mocktails were great and so was the food.” You smile and so does Zoro, one so faint that your eyes fail to catch it, when he recalls the happy expression on your face as you devoured any and everything that passed your way; continuing to listen at the soft and vibrant melody of your voice that fills his ears.

“...and what I loved most of all were the desserts, especially those choco..lates.” Your voice suddenly falls when the memory of you feeding Zoro pops into mind, together with how soft his lips felt when your fingers brushed against them.

“Something wrong?”

You glance to your right to see that Zoro is looking at you with a concerned expression, your face warming from his attention.

 “Ah, N-No. Nothing’s wrong.” You reassure him with a small smile. “Just got sidetracked, that’s all.”  You go silent shortly after your response when your eyes make the mistake of flickering down to his lips and quickly turn your attention away from him, dropping your gaze to the ground.

Zoro doesn’t know what causes your sudden silence which prolongs as you both continue down the hall, but he does know that he misses the sound of your voice which leads to him racking his brain for a topic that might be interesting enough to get you to speak again, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.  

“That outfit you wore tonight—It was nice.”

The words you think you hear Zoro say makes you slow to a stop.

When Zoro notices you’re no longer walking beside him, he turns to see your shock-filled features, immediately feeling himself go pale, and starts to regret the words that just spilled from his mouth—words he’d held back from telling you at Kaya's birthday dinner the entire time his eyes were glued on to you. 

“W-What did you say?” You recover just enough to ask.

Zoro, who stands no more than a few feet away from you, looks back at you and ponders if he should just play it off due to your reaction, but tells himself that doing so would be a cowardly move—and he was not a coward.

He directs his head to the side to keep his face that flushes a light shade of red away from your view. “The outfit you wore at dinner. It looked really nice on you.” He says again, his voice seeming to struggle to get the words out.

You feel heat rush to your skin.

So you did hear him right the first time.

You replay Zoro's words in your head before nervously raising your gaze to look at him. “So, um…” You fidget a bit where you stand. “You think I looked pretty?”

Zoro visibly flinches at your question, still very much avoiding any eye contact.

“Yeah.” He manages an answer after what seems like a couple of seconds. “You always look pretty.”

At his response, a full and goofy smile blossoms on your lips. Then, without thinking—so overcome with joy at Zoro’s one in a lifetime compliment of you that it pushes most of your nervousness aside— your footsteps start moving closer towards his direction, and you tip-toe, just a little to reach his height, aiming at showing your appreciation for his words by gifting him with a kiss on his cheek. 

However the supple softness that your lips meet when you kiss Zoro is not the softness of his cheek, but that of his lips instead when he suddenly turns his head in your direction.

Both Zoro’s dark eyes and yours widen at the realisation and you stumble back, away from him, watching as he touches a finger to his lips.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that!” Your face steams as you attempt to explain yourself for the accidental kiss. “I-I was just trying to give you a kiss on the cheek—not on your l-lips.”

Dread fills you when you realise that Zoro doesn’t have much of a reaction towards your words and all sorts of thoughts race through your mind at what he might be thinking about the indecent act.

Though all your worries subside when Zoro eventually decides to speak.

“Can…we do that again?” 

Your eyes become saucers at his request. “W-what?”

“I..I want you to kiss me again.”

You almost choke.

Never in this lifetime or any lifetime would you think the stoic swordsman would utter such a request—one that you will be more than happy to fulfil, despite your buckling knees.

 “A-Are you sure?” 

In a few steps, Zoro closes the distance between you both; a gasp leaving your lips when you feel his strong arms snake around your waist pulling you into his larger frame.

“Yes, I'm sure.”

Your heart races as he silently stares down at you, noticing his gaze flicker down to your lips, then slowly back up to meet your eyes.

Heat creeps up your neck at the action, settling on your face and increases ever so slightly at the feeling of the heat that radiates off of Zoro's skin through his clothes from his body being flush against your own.

"You don't want to?" Zoro asks when he notices your somewhat hesitant expression. "It's fine if—"

"No. I do, I do." You rush out, reassuring him that the feeling is mutual. "It's just..." You hesitate. "I've never kissed someone. Well except for you—just now." You smile sheepishly. "I...I might be bad."

Zoro's gaze softens at your words. "Same goes for me."

You feel your heart swell and warmth rise to your cheeks. "That..I was your first?"

Zoro answers you with a single nod, the blush deepening on his face.

You let the revelation sink in: You were Zoro's first kiss.

A reality you can't help but take a moment of silence to relish in as you remain caged between Zoro's arms and the comforting warmth of his body, a warm smile subconsciously gracing your face.

"Can you close your eyes?" your voice comes out barely above a whisper when you're finished relishing in the moment.

Zoro's face wrinkles in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you. "Your voice quavers a bit as you speak. "Won't it be weird if we do it with our eyes open? Though if that's your thing—"

"No. I'll close 'em." Zoro says as his eyes immediately flutter close. And with his eyelids pressed shut, you can't help but stare back at him, admiring every inch of his handsome face and the deep blush that paints its tan skin.

Gingerly, one of your hands reaches up to caress one side of his face as you lean in, swallowing lightly when your lips near his, but pause just before they could meet. "You're really sure about this, right?" You can't help but ask the question again just for good measure.

Zoro shudders a little from the soft touch of your hand against his cheek, and also when he feels the warmness of your breath brush against his lips a few inches away from your own.

He doesn't answer your question immediately and it makes your heart sink that he might be having second thoughts until you feel his lips press tenderly against yours in a feather-light kiss.

The sudden action renders your body somewhat into a state of surprised stillness. But only for a beat, before your eyes flutter close, hands circling Zoro's neck as you lean into the kiss that starts off slow with you both savouring the taste of each other; before it escalates into one more confident, filled with longing and passion.

And the next day after you and Zoro shared a heated kiss at midnight in the dim lights of a lone hallway—forced to pull away, when Luffy unexpectedly popped out from nowhere— you both sneak a quick kiss at the shipyard, where eyes cannot lurk, before joining the rest of the crew who’d acquired a new member to its team, aboard its first ship—The Going Merry.

© 2024 kana-daydreams

reblogs appreciated🥰

[sapphire-writes]

Playing with Fire (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: Deep feelings awaken within you as you continue to explore your relationships with the princes. A betrothal is announced.

warnings: some sensual themes, drinking

word count: 3.4k

A/N: the love for this series is unmatched! thank you for all your support so far hope you enjoy this part 💚

masterlist

“I do believe the dressmaker has outdone themselves this time,” your mother praises, smoothing the fabric of your evening gown. You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, unable to tear your eyes away from the soft pink color of your lips, still tingling from Aegon’s kiss. 

Aegon’s kiss.

The Targaryen prince had kissed you. Taken you to his chambers and kissed you, as he had done probably thousands of times before. Your stomach filled with butterflies at the memory. Could your mother see it? Could she read the blush on your cheeks, know that it was caused by a dragon prince? More than one dragon prince. 

Aemond sent those same feelings swirling in your belly, and he hadn’t even kissed you. You tried not to let your mind linger on that thought. It was Aegon’s hand everyone desired, after all. Aemond was not currently available for a match. 

“You look lovely, my darling,” your mother crooned, moving a loose piece of hair from your face. The dress she had chosen for the occasion was truly grander than your previous pieces. The fabric was a shimmering silver, with Myrish lace patterns swirling throughout the skirts like silver flames. 

A silver lady for a silver prince. 

You bite your lip nervously as you look at yourself in the mirror, and your mother makes a face at you. 

“None of that,” she scolds and you release your lip from between your teeth, “and no playing with your rings, nor your necklace.”

She is referring to the rather large heirloom that hangs in the hollow of your throat. You squeeze your fingers into your palms as though they have a mind of their own and will fly toward your throat at a moment’s notice.

You frown at her. 

“Shall I remain still for the entirety of the evening?” you ask as your mother fixes your hair. 

“I expect you to dance,” your mother says, “for the majority of the evening. But pace yourself with wine, you know how it goes to your head.”

You nod in agreement and release a short laugh. 

“And do not engage much with the other ladies, tonight is no night for gossip,” your mother says, fixing her own hair, “if you must speak with a lady, engage with Princess Helaena or Queen Alicent. They shall be your kin soon enough.”

You snort at your mother’s confidence. The woman is relentless. 

“Planning the wedding already?”

Your mother takes your hands in hers, bringing you to sit on a nearby chaise. 

“What happened during your time with Prince Aegon?” she asks, her curiosity evident in her expression and voice. 

“Which time?” you clarify.

“(Y/N),” she warns, “do not be clever with me.” 

“We simply conversed, tis all,” you tell her, “nothing indecent occurred I assure you.”

And he kissed me, you think to yourself. He kissed me and I wished it never stopped. I want him to keep kissing me again and again and -

“I told you he is a man of substance,” your mother says, face relaxing, “nothing like those gossips of court say.”

Perhaps I am famished, you remember him saying, his gluttonous eyes nearly devouring you whole in the hall. You wet your lips at the memory, cheeks flushing.  

A knock from the door makes your mother’s face light up.

“That must be Prince Aegon,” she says, nearly in a whisper as though Aegon can hear from across the room and through the door.

You rise from your seat and go to open the door. To your surprise, Aemond is the silver prince at your door. His seeing eye widens slightly at the sight of you, his pupil enlarging until it nearly encompasses the violet entirely. 

“My lady,” he says, nodding slightly, “I have come to escort you to the festivities, my brother sends his deepest apologies.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. Is Aegon with someone else? It seems entirely possible, and entirely in character. Surely, another lady must have captured his attention. It was only a matter of time. A man with such a voracious appetite would hardly be satiated with a maiden such as yourself. You try to ignore the bitter taste this thought leaves in your mouth. 

“Oh,” you say, giving Aemond a soft smile. 

He looks towards the ground as though embarrassed under your gaze. You remember your conversation in the garden, how strange he thought it was for you to be on his arm. You wished you could take away some of the shame he felt. You turn towards your mother who stands with an incredulous expression on her face. 

“I shall go on ahead with Prince Aemond, mother,” you tell her. She nods with approval, a hesitant expression on her face. 

“Shall we?” you tell him, offering your arm to the one-eyed prince. Aemond meets your eyes, and drinks in the soft expression on your face, before taking your arm. 

“Darling,” your mother calls and you turn. She moves towards you, holding your masquerade mask out. A beautiful silver mask, seemingly conjured from only silver lace. You take it from her hands before taking your leave with Aemond. 

The halls are quiet on the side of the castle, and you assume everyone has made their way to the great hall. Your steps echo as you walk down the corridor. Aemond’s arm is warm against you, keeping you comfortable in the cool evening air. 

“One moment, my prince,” you tell him, before turning down the serpentine steps. You stop, holding the mask up to your face. Moonlight peaks through a window, bathing you in a silver glow. 

“Do you have a mask for the feast?” you ask and Aemond shakes his head, still not truly looking at you. His gaze dances around you, as though trying to stare. 

“I prefer the mask I normally wear,” he says, referring to his eye patch. You nod, attempting to tie the silk straps around your head. Aemond glances at you. 

“Allow me, my lady,” he offers and you smile graciously at him before turning. You can feel his long, dexterous fingers moving on the back of your head as he ties the mask to your face. You chew your lip since he cannot see, feeling your skin blossom with gooseflesh. 

“Nothing happened,” you find yourself saying, feeling his fingers still on the back of your head. 

Aemond is very gentle with you as he ties the ribbon of the mask, as though you may shatter from his touch. 

You do not know what compelled you to speak, something inside of you could not stop the words from bubbling out through your lips. 

“The previous night, when I happened upon Prince Aegon,” you continue, feeling your cheeks heat up at the confession.

“It does not matter if anything did,” Aemond answers, “you are here to vie for his hand.” 

“He did kiss me this afternoon,” you admit, for the first time out loud. Aemond lets out an unbothered hum. 

You inhale a deep breath, your back still towards him. You desperately wish to know what he is thinking. Is he disappointed? Jealous? Does he even care at all?

“I just wanted you to know,” you tell him, feeling his hands slip from you. You turn to face him, tilting your chin so you can look upon his face. 

“Why?” he asks, a curious expression on his face, pouty lips parted. 

“I do not know,” you admit, “I just wanted you to know.”

Aemond reaches out to you, fingers dancing across the fabric of your skirt. You watch his gaze fall before he drags it up toward your face, slowly as if he is reading the pages of a book. 

“You are very kind, Lady (Y/N),” he says, rubbing the fabric of your skirts between the pads of his fingers. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you tell him, feeling your heart race. 

“My brother does not always appreciate kindness,” he tells you. You wet your lips, bringing his attention to them.

“I do not wish you to get hurt,” Aemond continues, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek. You are sure he must feel the heat that gathers there. Your lips part at his touch. 

“I shall be alright,” you tell him, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. His presence wafts over you and covers you like a blanket. He smells woodsy, with a certain saltiness as though he was recently flying over Blackwater Bay. It is deliciously tempting to lean into his touch. 

“I shall make sure of it,” Aemond promises, bringing his other hand to cup both of your cheeks. 

Your eyes widen at his words, at the way he gently holds your face in the palms of his hands. With every stroke of his fingers against your cheeks a shiver of need rolls through you.

“Would you like that?” he murmurs. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Aemond leans forward and you close your eyes, feeling the sharp tip of his nose press against your face before his lips connect with yours. The kiss is soft and purposeful, a sweet promise. He turns his head, deepening the kiss, slipping his hot tongue into your mouth. You whimper against his mouth, and the prince pulls away.

The effects of the kiss are similar to that of Aegon’s kiss. A craving remains, settled deep within your bones and you want more. 

Aemond smiles at your reaction, your wide eyes, and puckered lips. 

“Let us continue to the feast, my lady,” Aemond says, taking your arm once more and escorting you down the steps. You swallow hard, bringing a hand up to your lips. 

You’ve now kissed two princes. Two brothers. Seven hells. 

The hall is alive with merriment when you arrive. Masked faces and flowing skirts flood the room, and music pours throughout, vibrating the very walls of the room. 

As you gaze upon the Iron Throne toward the back of the room you watch as the melded-down swords shiver with vibrations. You see your mother from across the room; somehow she has beaten you here. 

“I should go check in with her,” you tell Aemond, who releases your arm. 

“Of course, my lady,” he says, kissing the back of your hand, “I shall be watching.”

A shiver rolls through you at the thought. You make your way to your mother, who is lost in conversation with Lady Redwyne. 

“Mother,” you call, announcing your arrival. She gives you a disapproving look as you grab a cup from a serving tray. You drink the amber liquid greedily, you hadn’t realized how thirsty you had been. 

“What did I say?” she tells you, as Lady Redwyne glances over to acknowledge you. 

“To watch my wine?” you tell her, brows furrowed, motioning towards the empty glass. 

“To dance, my daughter,” she says, shooing you away, “go on now, be young!”

Be young? Does that include kissing princes? 

You shake your head at her but continue to the dance floor as a group dance is soon to begin. As you stand next to a lady whose name you cannot remember, someone pushes into you. You turn and meet the glare of Cassandra Baratheon. 

“How lovely you look, Lady (Y/N),” she says, unable to hide the snarkiness from her voice. 

She wears a beautiful mask, in the shape of golden antlers as a nod to her namesake. Her blue eyes are icy as she looks you up and down, lips curled into a snarl.

“You as well, Lady Cassandra,” you tell her, smiling politely. 

The dance begins and you stay beside her. 

“I would highly advise you to calm your efforts of appealing to Prince Aegon,” Cassandra hisses when she is spun close to you and out of earshot of other lords and ladies. 

“Feeling threatened, Cass?” you tease, meaning it half-heartedly until seeing the furious expression on her face. Then your smile falters. 

“Seven hells, Cassandra,” you whisper as she’s pulled into the opposite direction as the dance demands a partner change. The pounding of the drums echoes in your chest, the wine making your thoughts fuzzy. Your mother was right, unfortunately, you truly should take it slow. 

The dance continues, switching partners, and you arrive in Aemond’s arms. 

He smiles slightly at you, that smile says there is a secret between you. 

“My lady,” he murmurs, delighting in the blush that gathers on your cheeks. 

“Aemond,” you say, not attempting to hide your smile. One hand lays firmly on your waist, the other holds your other hand above your head while you spin. 

“You are a delightful dancer, Lady (Y/N),” Aemond praises, sending a shiver down your spine, “what a shame we have been deprived of your dancing until now.”

You release a giggle as the crowd separates. The guests clap, before changing partners again. A hand snakes around your waist and you turn to face your newest partner. 

You meet the face of Aegon, his face covered with a gold mask. He smiles at you, he always wears that damn smile, so effortlessly beautiful across his face. 

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmurs, hands tightening around your waist. 

“Aegon,” you breathe, causing his smile to grow. 

“I apologize for my rude behavior,” he tells you, leading you into the dance, “I needed to speak to my mother before the feast began.”

He spins you again, and you are lost to another partner. The room itself feels like it is spinning, the air seems to suffocate you. Your eyes cannot track either of the princes, everyone is disguised so beautifully that you feel as though you will be driven mad by it.

Partners switch once more, and you are back in Aemond’s arms. He gazes down at you with a concerned look on his face as the dance continues. Your heart thumps wildly against your ribs, and the effects of the wine cause your skin to tingle. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, placing a hand on your cheek, so like when he kissed you. You lean into his touch. 

“Yes, it’s just-” 

You’re pulled from him again, a stranger before you. You groan, then smile at the new lord apologetically, continuing to dance. The partners switch and Aegon loops a hand around your waist. 

“This is madness,” you tell him, nearly falling against him, earning a chuckle from the prince. 

“I am enjoying the chase,” he teases, grip tightening around you, “perhaps this time I shan’t let you go.”

You giggle at that, face flushed from the dancing. It feels oddly sensual, being spun between the Targaryen princes, and you are enjoying it far more than you care to admit. 

“There is something I need to share with you,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. Your flesh erupts with goosebumps at the brushing of his lips against you. 

You never understood the desire that ladies often spoke of before your trip to the capital. But the dragons had awoken something that lay asleep deep inside of you, that now was trying to claw its way out. 

The dance ends with you still in Aegon’s arms as the crowd applauds. A new song begins, and the crowd separates into pairs. You sigh, relieved as the gentle music washes over you, a relief from the uproar of the previous song. 

Aegon traces a finger down your neck, following a bead of sweat that travels below the neckline of your dress. He stops before his finger does the same, looking up at you with a smile. Your breathing has turned to pants, your chest heaving against his. You want him.

“I quite like you in this color,” he murmurs, his grin lopsided. Now that you’re closer to him, you can tell he has been indulging himself at the feast. His breath smells of sweet wine, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. The site is quite enticing if you’re being completely honest, he looks so ruggedly handsome. 

You once felt fearful of tales of the gluttonous dragon prince of King’s Landing, but standing before him now, feeling his hands on you, you want nothing more than for him to drag you down into sin with him.

Your gaze flickers to the movement behind you. Aemond stands, sipping from his cup and leaning against the wall. His violet eye follows you as you move in your dance. Your silent protector. Your heart thrums faster against the walls of your chest as your thoughts tantalize you.

You want him as well.

“My lady?” Aegon calls and draws your attention back to him. 

“There was something you wished to share with me?” you ask, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. He tilts his head back, leaning into your touch. 

“I spoke with my mother,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as your fingers comb the hair at the back of his neck. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, the boldness of your actions. Your eyes flicker to Aemond, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. 

“I wish to propose a betrothal,” Aegon states and you meet his eyes. Your hand drops from the back of his neck and you begin to pull away. 

You can only imagine the look of utter joy that must be on Cassandra Baratheon’s face at this moment. She truly must be insufferable to be around, beaming about the throne room speaking only of her conquest. 

“Congratulations, my prince,” you tell him, “she shall be a lucky lady indeed.”

Aegon fists your skirts, pulling you back toward him, your bodies flush against one another. 

“Will she?” he purrs, bringing a hand to your waist. You feel your body grow warm as his hands roam your body. 

“Yes, my prince,” you tell him, attempting to extract yourself from his grip, “though this is hardly appropriate-”

“Do that again,” he ignores your pleas, “with my hair, it felt so lovely.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, still attempting to wiggle away.

“Your lady would not like that, my prince, surely-”

“Oh she won’t mind,” he teases, vice-like grip never relenting. 

You give him a desperate look. You have grown up alongside Cassandra, you understand how she operates. Though you are both grown women, you hardly think she would spare you from some sort of unseemly accident. Cass can be very clever, perhaps a poisoned cup of wine or a fall from your horse. 

“Aegon,” you beg, “please, let me go.”

Aegon shakes his head playfully, his teeth biting into his lower lip. 

“Aegon-”

“For a kiss, I shall,” he finally relents, causing your panic to increase.

“Please, not here Aegon, if Cassandra were to see-”

“Cassandra?” he questions, perfect mouth pouting. He scrunches his nose in confusion. 

“Your bride, Aegon,” you hiss, looking about the room. People are paying you no mind, used to Aegon’s antics you suppose. 

Aegon barks out a laugh, tilting his head back. You wet your lips, furious at how relaxed he is. You suppose he has nothing to worry about, it is you who would be murdered after all. Though you had hoped he enjoyed your company enough so as to not risk your very life. 

“Lady Cassandra is not to be my bride,” he tells you. It is your turn to be confused.

“Then who?”

Aegon tears the mask from his head, and you lose your breath at the full sight of his face. He is truly a beautiful man, as all Targaryens are. The blood of Valyria holds more magic than that of dragons. His smile widens. 

“You, Lady (Y/N),” he says, bringing his lips close to your ear. 

The world around you stops spinning as you feel his lips graze the sensitive spot below your ear causing something in your stomach to tighten with desperate need. You bring your hand to his hair once more, reveling in the way he groans against you as your fingers tangle in the strands. 

Your eyes lift, meeting that of Aemond Targaryen. The one-eyed prince continues to watch you, giving you a slight nod when your eyes meet. Aegon’s lips pepper kisses up to your ear, finishing with a whisper. 

“You shall be my bride.” 

note: oh no!! which 😏 one 🥵 ??

taglist: @afro-hispwriter, @aemondsb1tch, @twobluejeans, @s0urmarvel, @fan-goddess, @the-phantom-of-arda, @cicaspair418, @loxbbg, @arraxthatsonjah, @missbeeentertainment, @maximizedrhythms, @xdeath-soulx , @wrendermeuseless, @hiatuswhore, @sho1407, @minttea07, @arkainea, @elissanatok, @alitaar, @bellaisasleep, @itsleniiilosers, @cassiopeia-black-brenda, @bogwaterswamp, @applepie02, @youngestxhearts, @aurabluestar, @watersquirtpewpewboomm, @w3ird11, @minttea07, @hopebaker, @banana-man0, @m1ndbrand @itsleniiilosers, @for-fuck-sake-im-alive, @duckworthbean, @lunamadhatter99, @mss-nthng, @heavenly1927,

[wileys-russo]

can we have a ficlet for camp champ for niamh please

camp champ ficlet

"niamy! niamy! niamhy!"

"oh no." you winced knowing exactly what those chants would be for, burying your face in millies shoulder as she patted your head. "watch out! crazy legs is on the dance floor again." the blonde laughed as you dared to sneak a peek and groaned.

"who lets her do this? who tells her its a good idea? why encourage her?" you shook your head, downing your drink making millie laugh even louder. "everyone! cause she's fucking hilarious." the girl shrugged honestly as you playfully punched her shoulder.

"oi! ya missus wants ya." ella collapsed next to you with a grin and a wiggle of her eyebrows, everyone having a drink and a dance to celebrate the semi final win over australia earlier this evening.

"sorry tooney i'm single for tonight, crazy legs is not my girlfriend." you shook your head again more firmly, stealing millies drink as the taller girl pinched your leg and strode off to find a refill. "crazy legs is the best!" ella laughed clapping you on the back.

your girlfriends nickname stemmed from the way that her limbs seemed to refuse to function normally when she was drunk. combine that with the passion she seemed to have for cutting a move on the dance floor and the way she would erratically spasm and wiggle her body lead to grave embarrassment for you and endless amusement for everyone else.

you'd known crazy legs for far longer than anyone else, having babysat her at many parties or bore witness to her shenanigans late night in your shared living room after a wine filled date night or family dinner.

"baby!" speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, ella scurrying off as niamh stumbled her way over.

"hi love." you couldn't help but grin as she danced her way toward you, still encouraged on by your team mates as you bit your bottom lip. "do ya find this sexy? this is my love dance." niamh slurred swinging her body around as you covered your mouth with your hand.

"i think its time for some water niamhy." you quickly stood to grab her as she stumbled, tripping herself over as she let out a loud boom of laughter and you struggled to keep her taller form upright. "nooo babe don't be a buzzkill!" the defender groaned.

"dance floors looking lonely charles!" at that she was back up and out of your arms, trapping your hand in hers as she pulled you with her despite your protests.

"niamh no!" you laughed as she dragged you with her, pulling you now into her arms as she swayed and swung her body around, hanging onto you somewhat restricting her normal flailing about as the music pumped around you.

"niamh!" you yelped as she dipped you, letting go of you as lotte hurried to save you from falling, your girlfriend smiling guiltily as you were back on your feet.

"you can't stay mad at this baby, look!" niamh swung her arms around, looking more like a chicken than a footballer as her legs kicked and bent, the small crowd around roared with laughter only spurring her on further.

the chant of crazy legs echoed around you as the song ended and niamh struck a pose as you covered your mouth with your hand and a shake of your head.

that was after all, the love of your life.

[evanchantingpeters]

T(h)rust in me, I’m not over you... (Fanfic - Alex from Adult World)

Pairings ─ Alex (from Adult World) x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff

Summary ─ Y/N and Alex (aka Evan Peters in Adult World) are exes who haven’t quite let go. A friend’s birthday party turns into a comedy of errors when a black-out drunk Y/N accidentally enters Alex’s postcode as her own for a cab ride home. As Alex finds her at his doorstep and takes her in his place, old feelings resurface and steamy times go down in his bathroom.

Warnings ─ Swearing, smut, unprotected sex p in v, drinking, oral (m receiving), rough sex, nipple teasing, hangover sex, doggy, pretty smutty guys you’re being warned :)

Word count ─ 3.7K

18+ > If you’re a minor, DO NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

The birthday cake of your friend, Beatrice, stands proudly in the centre of her living room, decked out in colourful frosting and flickering candles.

You and the rest of the guests belt out the overdone ‘Happy Birthday’ song in what you think is perfect harmony. But here comes Jerry, Beatrice’s younger brother, who starts hollering the lyrics off-key, stealing the show. 

Snorting, the birthday girl nudges her brother away, leaning over the cake to blow out the candles. Just as she’s mouthing her wish, Jerry, wearing a wicked grin, swoops in and dips his sister’s face right into the cake. 

The room erupts in uproarious laughter as Beatrice’s expression goes from shocked to amused. She taps her cake-covered eyes to remove some chocolate. Then, she turns to Jerry with a look that’s half playful, half ‘I’m plotting revenge.’ 

“You’re in for it now, Jerry!” she barks. And just like that, an all-out frosting war breaks out, turning the room into a sugar-fuelled battlefield. Cake crumbs are flying in every direction, but you manage to dodge most of it with only a few cake-bulleted stains along the hem of your black dress.

You retreat to a corner of the room, sipping your Prosecco like you’re watching sitcom chaos unfold from afar. Suddenly, you notice a stranger in a fancy tux sauntering over, a sly grin playing on his plump lips. 

“Well, looks like you’ve stayed mostly unscathed… or shall I say un-caked?” he chirps, his voice deep and throaty as he nods toward the cake war raging on. 

You just shrug, tossing him a faint, uninterested smile, “Good reflexes, I guess,” you quip, giving him a quick once-over before turning back to the cake madness. You feel his dark green eyes scanning you as if you’re going through airport security. 

He chuckles, and leans in. “If you need someone to scrub the marks off your dress, I’m your guy,” he whoops, playfully thumping his chest. He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “Tony.” 

“Y/N,” you reply bluntly, your energy matching that of a deflated balloon. 

Unfazed by your meh vibes, Tony decides to turn up the heat on the handshake, taking you aback as he begins to stroke your wrist. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving yours.

In a bold move, he lightly kisses the back of your hand, his stubble scratching your skin. 

You instinctively pull away, trying to force a polite smile, but a nervous twitch is all you manage. Your intrusive thoughts kick in, lecturing you (as usual), ‘Give the guy a chance, Y/N. Seriously, after Alex, all you think about is eye-gouging dudes with a spoon? Get a grip and move on!’

“Enjoying the party, Y/N?” he asks, snapping you out of your mental mess.  

“It’s not too bad. I’m here for Beatrice,” you retort, fetching a glass of wine from the buffet. Your eyes drift to the birthday girl, now caked from head to toe and giggling hysterically. You can’t help but crack a smile.

“Sorry, gotta go. Trice’s calling me,” you blurt out and lunge toward your friend, catching a muffled, “No, she didn’t” from behind as you’re practically escaping.

As the night barrels on, your party spirit is like the Energizer Bunny on steroids. You’re all in, downing shots and cocktails like they’re on a liquid clearance sale.

Yet, the question looms in the air: Are you drinking for the sheer fun of it or just drowning sorrows in that cocktail shaker? Alex heartache mode on. 

Before you know it, you’re totally sloshed, messily sprawled on a plush couch, using Tanya’s (another friend of yours) knees as your personal pillow. “Iiiiii reeeeally like your boooody, bodyyy, yeah. I reaaaaally wanna get naughtyyyyy I think you’re such a hottieeeee,” you croak out each word of the pop track with a slur, laughing uncontrollably. Your eyes are shut, lost in your boozy world.  

As you ramble on, Tony, who’s been lurking around, seizes the moment and leaps out from behind the couch. He casually nudges Tanya’s arm, yelling, “You heard that, Tansy?” with theatrical flair. “She thinks I’m a hottie!” His grin spreads wider than a rubber band as he arrogantly points at himself, acting like he’s the main character of your drunken karaoke.

Tanya clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and cuts in with a hiss, “Tony! Behave, man!” She softly kisses the top of your head in a futile attempt to soothe your booze-induced storm. 

“I offered to clean up her dress…” Tony goes on, hovering over the couch. “But, not gonna lie, I’d rather have it crunched up on my bedroom floor as she moans my name,” he murmurs, emphatically banging his fist on the couch before doubling up with laughter. 

“Oh, hush it, Tony,” Tanya roars and waves him away, turning back to you and your delirium, which has hit the roof. “I need to get you home, girl, and none of us is fit to drive…”

Tony, not one to give up easily, chimes in once more. “I volunteer! I’d give her a lift all day, all night.”

“No, we’re all catching a cab,” she declares with a tone that brooks no argument. She lightly pokes your shoulder. “Y/N, my love?” 

Your tipsy babbling starts to fade into a murmur that seems to be lulling you to sleep. “Y/N,” Tanya repeats. “What’s your postcode, sweetie?” 

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to register this simple question. “P-postcode? P-o-s-t-d, no. P-p,” you stutter.

“Yes, darling. Confirm your postcode for me, would you? I don’t have it saved,” Tanya says calmly, holding her phone in front of your face. 

With a grunt, you manage to sit up, but the world continues to dance spinning salsa around you. With an unsteady hand, you reach for the device, and your fingers fumble as you try to type out the letters and digits. 

Deep in your drunken haze, you unconsciously punch in a code that matches anything else but your address.

“To the hottieeeeee,” you shout, throwing your fist in the air before dropping yourself back onto your friend’s knees. 

“Ma,am, we’re here,” the taxi driver announces to Tanya that’s sat next to him, his hoarse voice slicing through the quiet of the car. 

Tanya swivels around to face the backseats, where you’re laid down, totally passed out. “Y/N,” she calls softly, giving your leg a gentle rub, but you don’t stir. 

She hops off the car and speed-walks to your side. With great care, she helps you out by wrapping her hands around you. Your arm is looped around her shoulder for stability. “Biyatchhhh, I saiddd whooo I saeee… who da biyaatch? Am da biyatchh,” you hoot, swaying and leaning heavily on your friend as you pinch her cheek with a goofy smile. 

“Y/N, just a sec,” Tanya huffs out as she shoves herself back in to retrieve your purse and coat from the car floor. 

You both stumble your way through the labyrinthine apartment complex. “You got your house key?” she asks, catching her breath. 

It takes a hot minute for the information to hit as you stare at your friend like a deer in headlights. With an unexpected burst of energy, you break free from Tanya’s hold, almost tripping a few steps away. “My Tanoushka, I'm sho happy you haar!” You cry out and lurch back toward her, showering her with enthusiastic smooches on her cheeks.

Then, in a theatrical whirl, you pop open the purse and jangle your keys in her face. “Jiggly, jiggly. Okiee, goooo, go, go!” you cheer in a wobbly dance, urging Tanya to get back into the car.

With an anxious look on her face, Tanya stands by the open car door. “Alright, phone me once you’re indoors,” she insists, her worried eyes laser-focused on you.

You shoo her away absentmindedly as you stagger toward the complex’s main door. You wrestle with the key, wriggling and twisting it into the lock, but miserably fail to get in the building. “Bad key,” you playfully scold, wagging a finger at the stubborn piece of metal before giving it a light slap. 

Soon after, your fingers impulsively begin to clumsily hit the buttons on the intercom, creating a cacophony of buzzing sounds that echo through the entryway. “O-o-o-pen uuup,” your slurred shouting rings through the intercom. “Shtupidd thaang,” you whine, practically bashing the device.

Out of the chorus of tenant voices that crackle through the speaker almost simultaneously, Alex’s familiar voice stands out.

“Y/N? Y/N is that you?” Hearing the shaky and uncertain voice, Alex doesn’t waste a second. He dashes down the stairwell and swings the entrance door wide open, facing a dishevelled Mia, rocking around about to collapse. 

“Y/N,” he gasps and sprints to you. “What happened? Why are you here?” His brows furrow in confusion as he observes your smudged makeup and dress that’s askew.

You look up at him with a lopsided smile, your eyes all bloodshot and half-lidded. “Alex, my hottieee. I mishhhsed you so muschh!” you exclaim, your sentences meandering as you lounge at him for a sloppy hug.

“Shit, you’re hammered,” he mutters, worry spurs him into action. With superhero speed, he scoops you up, your butt facing upwards, hands hanging loosely off his back. 

Your giggles echo as Alex carries you onto his shoulder with ease, making his way to the lift that leads to his place. In a soft, reassuring whisper, he says, “Don’t worry, baby,” and plants a kiss on your thigh that’s now resting on his chest. “I’ll take care of you,” he adds, giving you a playful spank on the ass. 

Once inside, Alex makes a pitstop in the kitchen for a water bottle while you dangle off his shoulder like a ragdoll, humming nonsense. He heads to the bedroom and gently lays you on the bed, making sure your landing is as comfy as a cloud. 

Kneeling beside you, he begins to delicately take off your high heels, rubbing your legs along the way. “Who needs a napkin when your dress can double as a tissue, right?” he chuckles softly, tracing the dry cake marks on your outfit, unaware of the sugary fight earlier. “You’ve officially introduced ‘cake couture’ to the fashion world,” he teases, trying to bundle you in a blanket like a burrito.

You slowly lift your head from the pillow, your neck muscles tightening with the effort as you stare at him with bleary yet intent eyes. “I want shyour cakey,” you mewl, wriggling under the blanket on a mission to liberate your hands.

You tug on his hoodie, pulling him closer until he loses his balance and topples onto you. Your bodies press together, and your voice comes out in a pleading whine. “Alex?” 

“Yes?” he rasps out, his dark brown eyes flicking down to your lips and then up into your eyes. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble and perk up, slowly grazing your lips against his, eyes shut. 

The strong scent of alcohol wafts from you, but, in that moment, Alex seems beyond minding. His heart races too erratically to care, and his breaths are too jagged and wild to bother. The room seems to shrink for both of you, and he swallows hard.

“No, Y/N,” he snaps, his voice firm and resolute as he jumps up. “I’d never let this happen... not right now... not with you being like this.” He snatches the water bottle from the bedside table, unscrewing it with a sense of urgency.

Slightly dazed, you touch your lips. “Tickles, tickles, ticklish,” you squeak, breaking into soft giggles. In a sudden and wobbly move, you shift position, popping up on your knees on the bed. “Huggies,” you whoop facing him, arms wide open for an embrace.

But, just as quickly, your mood takes a detour, and now you’re wincing, yanking at the fabric of your outfit in frustration, “This dresshh is prison, tightiee,” you grunt, hiking your dress up only to reveal your red panties.

His eyes can’t help but stare down there as he rubs the back of his neck almost compulsively, his breath hitching in his throat. At the sight of you half-naked, the dilemma of whether to give in or resist intensifies, swirling in his mind on end.

“Hold up, I don’t want you catching a cold or something. I’ve got a top you can slip into,” he says, puffing out his words while pacing toward his wardrobe to avoid looking at her.

“Heeey,” you yell with an unexpectedly stern tone that catches him off guard. But, just as swiftly, your face softens into a sweet, almost kiddish smile that instantly cools things off.

You wave Alex over, beckoning him to approach. “Come, come, comeyyy,” you coo. 

You perch next to him again, still rocking that mischievous smile. “It’s a secret, tiny winnie one,” you whisper-shout, pinching your index finger and thumb near your face, closing one eye for added drama. “Just between you and me,” you poke as you emphasise ‘me.’ 

Alex nods as his grin stretches from ear to ear. “Okay…” he chuckles, officially joining your light-hearted moment.

“Shhhhh,” you dramatically hush, squishing your index finger against your lips like you’re sharing classified intel. “Secret-t-t-t.”

Alex snorts. His rolls his lips into his mouth as he lowers his head to hold back a laugh. “My bad, my bad. Go on,” he whispers with exaggerated enthusiasm. He’s clearly having a blast with your goofy antics.

“Don’t tell Alex… Neva eva!” 

“I won’t, I won’t,” he assures you, theatrically raising his finger for a pinky promise. 

You take an unusually long moment to process his gesture and what it represents. A sober person would never… Eventually, you sloth-slowly glance back at him, nonchalantly deciding to give up on the symbolism behind the lifted pinky finger. “He’s the kindestsht… and p-p-prettiest boy I’ve eeeeever met,” you exclaim. Your fingers—guided by intoxicated conviction—clumsily roam over his face, stretching his nostril and trailing down to his bottom lip. 

Your drunken self radiates an innocent sincerity that makes Alex’s heart throb like a hammer. Flattered and charmed by your confession, he gazes at you bashfully.

His warm smile broadens as he keeps on staring and admiring you.

“He’s shhhuper,” you squeal, forming a heart shape with your fingers, peeking at him through it. “Do youse… hic… I should gimme… no… not me… him, give HIM head to say thank yew for treatin' spoooooon good?”

Alex can’t help but crack up, though his cheeks turn rosy—a testament to his shy nature. He cups his chin and narrows his eyes mischievously, like he’s in deep thought. “Hmm, if we’re talking about Alex, your ex...I think you should give him head, BUT,” he exclaims, throwing a finger into the air. 

You gasp, playfully covering your mouth like you’ve heard the most shocking news. Your eyes bulge with feigned surprise. “Beyond all,” he argues, “I think you should totally get back together. He thinks you broke up for something very silly, and he’s dying to be with you.”

You abruptly jerk away from him, gagging as if you’re about to throw up. You feel the blood draining from your face as a wave of distress washes over you.

Alex’s eyes widen with concern as he instinctively rises from the bed, “Off we go to the bathroom,” he insists, rushing to follow you.  

Your nausea takes a sudden turn, and you can’t hold back any longer. Barely making it to the toilet in time, you let it all out. Your body heaves with each retch, and you feel miserable.

Alex, the unsung hero, drops to his knees and chucks the water bottle on the floor. He gently pulls your hair back, creating a makeshift puke-proof barrier. All the while, he rubs your back to make the whole ordeal less horrible.

Then, he’s quick on his feet, grabbing some toilet paper for the post-barf clean-up. As you dab your lips, he hands you the bottle to rinse. “I’m disgustiiing, don’t look,” you grumble, shooing him away as you spit water in the toilet before flushing.

“You’re still a wonder to my eyes,” he whispers, running a hand through your loose hair. “And the timing—you puke just as I suggest we get back together, Y/N” he mocks, adding a sprinkle of humour to the less-than-glamorous moment.

You groan and let your head flop onto the toilet seat. “Ahhh, my moussth feels weird… bruushh,” you mumble, rubbing your lips. 

Alex lifts you up, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Not brushing yet, baby. We’re swishing with some hydrogen peroxide and water to protect the enamel,” he instructs you, preparing the said concoction in a small measuring cup next to you. “Here you go, wash off.”

“Shhh, you’re a niiieeerd,” you whine after spitting the liquid, feeling it sting your tongue. Giggling, you yank at Alex’s hoodie and playfully sway him back and forth, your minty breath fanning his face.

Then, you suddenly stop and fix him right in the eye. “Aleeex?” you whimper, lips pouting.

“Yes, Y/N,” he asks calmly, sweeping a few strands of hair off your face as a half smirk curls up his lips. He enjoys the banter that weaves through your drunken fog.

“Fuck me,” you plead, fiddling with the buckle of his belt. 

Alex’s pulse quickened for a second, held in an irregular rhythm. All the while, your fingertips caress his lower stomach, trying to slip through his trousers and onto his boxers. 

You let go when he clears his throat loudly, a deliberate attempt to regain composure. Breathing heavily, he manages a tight-lipped as he strokes your head, tenderly placing it on his shoulder.

“Ohhh, I knoooow,” your exclaim and sit up, your index finger playfully pressing against your mouth. “I willshh brush me an’ you fuck me.” 

Forty minutes later, you’re done with her hardcore toothbrushing session, complete with a few rounds of gargling mouthwash. Alex hands you a towel with a warm smile. You’re still wobbly but muster a grateful grin.

“Thaaank, yew rock,” you slur, clumsily patting your face dry. 

Alex chuckles, “Better?”

You hum, nodding, but your bleary eyes suddenly light up mischievously. Out of impulse, you slide into the tub, turning the water knob. You start splashing around, water welling up everywhere as you laugh uncontrollably. Alex, caught in the aquatic crossfire, shields himself with his hands.

“What’s the goal? Turning this into a water park?” he jokes, still trying to dodge the watery onslaught. But you’re having none of it. You grip his arm and drag him into the splash party.

Soon, you’re both a wet, tangled mess, laughing like loons, lost in the bliss of the moment. As water skims through the contours of your bodies, there’s a switch in the atmosphere. Amidst the fun chaos, your eyes meet inches away from each other, and the laughter mellows into a shared silence.

Before you realise it, your lips crash in a spontaneous kiss. You spread your legs, letting him wade through and tower over you. Soft moans escape him, and the vibrations against your mouth send delightful shivers down your backbone. You know that’s not just a collision of flesh; it transcends into a harmonious blend of passion and connection.

“I want you, Alex,” you sigh with newfound clarity, miraculously not stumbling over your words in an intoxicating joy for the first time tonight. You push the back of his head to deepen the kiss, your tongues now twisting and twirling in a sensual waltz.

He hungrily gropes handfuls of your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the crook of your neck.

“Y/N.. no... stop it,” he protests when your hand ventures down his trousers, rubbing along his growing bulge. Your quivering breaths mingle as he breaks the kiss. Skillfully, he turns off the water as he steps out of the tub. “It’s the alcohol talking now, not you.” 

You frown, clutching on the edges of the tub for balance. “The alcohol has shut up; I speak now,” you groan as you stand on your feet. Your drenched dress clings to your body, outlining your figure. Feeling the weight of the soaked fabric, you decide to free yourself from it. 

You strip down to your panties, and your soft, pink nipples rise like rosebuds in bloom, betraying a quiet anticipation. Alex sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your every move all mesmerised, eyes widening, lips parted.

“Ever seen someone redefine the art of walking a tightrope?” you chirp, water dripping down your half-naked body. Sinking to your knees, you get on all fours and slowly begin to crawl to him.

You sway your hips in a sensuous, almost hypnotic rhythm, eyes fixed on Alex. All the while, you trace a perfectly straight line to him, proving your recovered sobriety. 

Arriving at his pelvic level, you gracefully sit back on your heels with a coy smile, maintaining eye contact. “See?” you whisper, tilting your head as your eyes travel down at his erection. You don’t dare to touch; you just marvel at his full length (realistically speaking).

Staring down at you with a knowing, crooked smirk, he runs his fingers through your damp hair, tenderly petting your head. 

“Someone’s suffering here. Let’s free this big boy, shall we?” you purr, brushing your fingers along his hard rock crotch, feeling it twitch upon touch. 

He quickly nods in despair as if he’s unable to utter a single syllable. You slowly roll down his trousers and boxers. He gasps as you finally take hold of his large shaft.

You push his tip in your mouth, flattening your tongue, and swipe down the underside ridge of his stiff dick, humming in delight. He groans louder than you expected as you slowly work his cock in and out, grazing your fingers over the ridges of his abs under his t-shirt.

You pull him back out of your mouth just to slide all the way back down. He’s practically growling at this point, clasping onto the corners of the sink—his vein-y arms make your sex twice as moist.

You regain your slow, teasing pace just to gauge his reaction. Letting out a whine like he can’t take it anymore, he grips your hair tighter, pushing you all the way down his dick. His head is now building on pressure as it strikes the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes. His hair grip loosens as his breaths start escaping him in choked, punchy gasps. 

You’re sucking him whole, from his taint down to his balls, dripping your saliva all over him the harder you draw him into your mouth. Your swollen pussy is tingling for him as you feel him hardening in your mouth, forcing loud moans out of you.

Knowing that your next move will finish him, you slow down again and grab him by the waist, gazing up at him. That’s when you begin to take him in faster and rougher, feeling his hips thrust harder each time. 

And… proven! With the change in speed, he lets out a series of choppy moans only to shoot his hot cum in your mouth right after. He stares down at you breathless, mouth agape, as you gulp down his sweet taste with rapid, eager swallows, savouring his taste with a giggle. 

“My girl,” he rasps out as he picks you up from the floor effortlessly yet almost in a trance, his dick still throbbing in your hands. He peels his t-shirt off, turning you around so you both face the large bathroom mirror.

Positioned behind you, he holds you close and smacks your ass hard, making you squeal with surprise. The squeal soon turns into a moan as the pain fades into pleasure. 

You smile slyly as you observe his muscular hands travelling from your hips all the way up to your waistline and tits. You gasp softly when you feel his erection on your back as his mouth nibbles the flushed skin of your neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.

“I want you to cum inside me, Alex” you blurt out and take hold of his shaft from behind, slowly sliding the head though your tight moist slit in short thrusts. 

“Oh, yeah,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip as he feels your wet lips wrap around him. He instantly fills his hands with your hard nipples, squeezing and rubbing them as he looks at your reflection. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he mutters against your ear in a low, husky voice before knocking himself deep inside you, balls deep, making you scream. His hands roughly grip your thighs to keep you steady and close to him.

Small sobs leave you as you instinctively grab the ends of the sink, bending over to cope with taking him deeper. “Just there,” you yelp, panting, as he starts pounding harder, your hair twisted around his hand. With each thrust, his sack slaps against your clit, making you lose your shit.

Every time your pussy gets to the base of his cock, you pump into him with an intense tempo and move your hips around, making his cock swirl inside your body.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you cry out with shallow, jagged puffs, rising and resting your head on his shoulder.

He pinches your nipples between his knuckles with one hand while with the other, he starts massaging your clit with circular motions. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper in pure ecstasy as a hot flush courses through you, your cunt aching and begging to release.

“You take in me so well, baby. Give it to me,” he groans, his voice a throaty sensual rasp that makes you shudder.

“Yeees,” you scream, writhing and grinding against him until you feel warm liquid dripping down your legs. 

He keeps riding your orgasm out with you, fucking the liquids in back until he hits his own high. And then it happens—his cum gushing inside you, stuffing you up.

Out of breath, Alex pulls himself out of you, watching his cum leak out. He lazily grins at you, his curls sticking to his head, and you tuck them all back with trembling hands, giggling. 

“This pussy and her owner over here will be the death of me,” he chuckles, gasping for air as he pulls you in for a sloppy, heated kiss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello hello! Congrats on your 650 followers! I saw you had requests open so here I come bc I love how your mind thinks 😌

Commander Fox, Regency AU (or similar to Bridgeton kinda vibes)

But a more will they/wont they type of thing (Happy ending tho, maybe bit of angst??) but similar to Bridgerton where they have ‘the season’ or the courting season.

I just feel that foxy boy had great Duke Hastings vibes and I’d love to see how you run with this idea!

Our Unending Dream

Summary: You like to think you’re a little more reasonable than some (most) of your peers. You’ve never been one for flights of fancy or prone to the vapors. People don’t get under your skin because you don’t allow them to. With one, very notable, exception.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 977

Prompt: Regency Era

Warnings: None

Tagging: @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

A/N: So, full disclosure, I've never watched Bridgerton so I was kind of making it up as I go. In any event, I hope you like it! It's also shorter than the other, and I'm sorry for that.

Click HERE to join my taglist!

When your aunt informed you that she was throwing a Salon for you and your cousin, you thought it would be for your cousin’s birthday celebration. A young lady doesn’t turn 21 every day, after all.

And stars know that your poor cousin deserves to have people paying attention to her, at least for one day.

It was, as it happens, a rather foolish assumption.

“I think Mother is trying to kill me,” Your cousin whispers to you an hour after the Salon starts and she’s able to extract herself from the group of well-wishers who have been hovering around her since the party started.

“I think she’s trying to marry you off.” You counter as you take a sip of your fruity drink, “Or have you not noticed that all of your shadows are noble men?”

She shoots you a look, “This Salon is for both of us. Why don’t you have any suitors?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m unmarryable.”

“According to whom!?” Your cousin demands, offended on your behalf.

“Myself.”

She shoots you another look, “Some day, cousin of mine, you’re going to fall in love with a man and I’m going to laugh myself sick.”

“Well, then. In deference to your health, I shall simply have to join a convent.”

She elbows you roughly, “Darling, you can’t drink wine at a convent.”

“The things I do for family,” You muse dramatically.

She laughs, which has the misfortune of drawing the attention of her suitors once more, and she hides her sour face behind her fan, “Back to the trenches I go.” She says with a sigh before she sweeps away, her voluminous pink dress swirling around her feet.

You smother your laughter with ease and lift your wine glass back to your lips to take another sip. If nothing else, watching your cousin try and fend off her suitors will be amusing.

It’s not as if anyone is interested in you, after all.

Though, despite what you said to your cousin, there is one man who you wouldn’t mind paying attention to you. Tragically, he’s both not here and is not an acceptable partner for you…according to your Father and his wife.

Tragic.

Heartbreaking, even.

You glance away from your cousin as someone comes to a stop near you, and a flash of red and white catches your attention. A very specific pattern of red and white.

Marshal Commander Fox is standing next to you, still dressed in his armor, with a small grin playing on his handsome face. 

“Commander! I wasn’t aware that you had been invited,” You say as you focus your attention on him.

“I was not.” He admits with a shrug, “Technically, I’m crashing the party.”

“Shame on you.”

“Yes, yes. I’m an awful man, I know.” His small grin grows wider at his words, “What can I say, all of the lovely ladies dressed in their finest? I simply had to see for myself.”

You shoot him a slightly amused look, “Funny.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I might believe you if you were looking at anyone else.”

He laughs, “Well, you are the loveliest lady here.” Fox replies with a flirty grin.

“Thank you,”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. You always do.”

Fox releases a sigh, “You’re turning me down again, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t want you to run afoul of my father.” You remind him, “He could ruin you.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it? No matter how much you like Fox, no matter how much you might love him, your Father would ruin him.

And you can’t let that happen.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and you chance a glance at his face. He looks unhappy, and your heart clenches painfully. You put that look on his face. This is your fault.

Fox’s gaze locks with yours, and a slow smile crosses his face, “Run away with me.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“My whole unit is being transferred, we’re moving to the other side of the country. Come with me.” Gently, he takes your free hand and lightly runs his calloused fingers across the palm of your hand, making you shiver. 

“Fox—”

“I can’t give you the life you grew up with,” He interrupts, “There’s no glitz or glamour. You won’t be able to throw these types of garden parties, and you’ll probably have to get a job.” Fox lists, “It’s not going to be easy, even I know that. But no real relationship is.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he continues in a rush, as if afraid of what you might say before he can make his full argument.

“And I know you, beautiful. You’ve always hated this kind of stuff. You hate the frilly dresses, the complicated hair-dos, and the jewelry that costs as much as a house.” Fox speaks quickly, his gaze searching your face, “You always complain about how bored you are, how shallow your peers are, how you can’t talk to anyone because all they want to talk about are their social lives—”

“Fox,” You interrupt him buy reaching up and pressing a finger against his lips.

He trails off and looks down at you. A look os anxious anticipation on his face.

You favor him with a soft smile, “Do you think I could get hired at the local library?”

Fox looks surprised for a moment, “Wait…does that mean—?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to go with you,” You whisper to him.

He squeezes your hand, “Then we’d better run before your parents catch us,” Fox replies with a wide grin, “Thorn is already ordained, and Thire promised to be our witness.”And you giggle as you allow him to sneak you out of the party. Your life is going to be harder now, you know. But it’s worth it. He is worth it.

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 2

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party.These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1,237

Part 2: Getting Closer.

TW: Death, the Mention of killing, fantasizing murder, nudity, Smut, and Oral sex.

Durge being in a party after slaying the Goblins and saving the Teifling folk and saving them from the Druids grove (He honestly wish he would have burn their tree down, cause fuck those guys). Everyone seem to be having a good time... well he really didn't have a good time. Shall we list those reasons? Well for one thing, he tried so hard to distract himself trying to block out those images of his nightmare. But the wine wasn't doing anything for him, guess Durge would have to drink at least 6 barrels of wine... but that wasn't happening, the other thing he wasn't a huge fan of being with so many people. People cheering him as a hero! It was nice for at least 2 seconds... but then it got more annoying that each drunk teifling came up to him "You are a hero mate, cheers!". He was trying to find you in all this madness. Some sort of familiarity and safety. But finding you, he saw you talking to Astarion. He was about to step up a little, but he noticed that he was flirting with you, and you seem to like it a lot. Kinda broke his little dark heart.

Deep down Durge wanted to grab Astarion. He wanted to choke him, he wanted to rip him apart, just to see his head fall of his shoulders, just to see him dead onto the ground and rip his intestines out feasting onto him... Durge felt sick all of a sudden, what was that? Why was he thinking that way? He had to get away, he needed air. He needed distraction. He then bumped into a teifling. Pretty little thing, Durge found out her name was Alfira, she talked with him, telling him how brave he was against the Goblins. Asking on what Lyrics she should use for her song... oh she was a bard. fantastic. Durge also noticed you were staring... he looked back at Alfira and even tried at his hand on flirting, just to maybe... maybe make you a little jealous? Even offered to have a one night stand with Alfira. Of course she took it. Leading her away from prying eyes into the forest.

Durge didn't take his time with stripping off his clothes, getting on top of Alfira kissing her, marking her with hickey's and bite marks from his teeth. Gods this was a perfect distraction. A good ol fuck to pass the night. Durge has a pretty good size for his cock and yes, Durge has a knot. He is pretty good in sex, so Alfira did sound like she was enjoying it. How he trailed his nips, and licking towards her breast, to her navel and finally to her core. Tasting her nectar that was glistening on her folds. She did taste divine... but he couldn't help but replace Alfira's face with yours. What would you sound like if he went down on you... what would you taste like? How soft and warm you would be in his claws, how he would made you came into his mouth, into his jaws to taste your sweet release. "jacida nhee kiabil". It was a blur though... he was so lost in the pleasure he became so feral... and once out of his haze he smelled... blood. He shook his head and looked down seeing was the once alive Alfira... dead, with her intestines ripped out all over the place. Durge standing back and even looked down at his hands... oh gods it's on him... did he do that? Panic coursed through his body. What has he done?!! He has to hide the body quick! He did so throwing her down the river watching it float away feeling sick... dirty... fucked up. He wash's himself in the river to get rid of the blood on his face and hands. God he felt sick, he needed to get back to camp, he needed sleep.

Durge of course not being able to sleep, he of course goes to walk out into the night, away from the party. The Nightmares were not helping either. He didn't want to wake you either. He was too busy trying to piece together the images from his images. He did write into the Journal you gave him but it still wasn't making any sense. Until he see's a random stranger appear-- oh god it's ugly! Was it a Goblin? The creature claimed to be your servant. A servant? Wait... was he a prince? Oh no the joke was biting him in the ass now. The creature called himself Sceleritas, a one hell of a butler he puts it. He must know you. He kept calling you by your name Durge. It was nice... he guessed? He had so many questions, he asked a few. Learning where he came from, and was made to guide him and help... murder people? Wait kill people? "That's how I found you, I could smell the Bards dead stench from across the sea!". Oh gods Durge felt sick. He wanted nothing to do with him. Sceleritas was a little sad to see his faithful master dismiss him so soon. But he wanted away... he needed you. You felt someone shaking you awake, looking up from your sleep gaze, you could see Durge's face that was filled with dredge and fear. You asked him what was wrong. He asked if you both could be in his tent to talk... just to help him fall asleep. You agreed of course. Anything for your friend Durge. You guys did talk almost all night, he seemed to calm down. That was good. "So are you and Alfira together?" you asked Durge "What? No we uh... we just uh... had a one night stand is all." Durge replied feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Oh... I was hoping to spend more time in the party but you were gone for me to find you." you said to him. "...I thought you wanted to be with Astarion?" Durge asked "didn't he... offer to give you a good time?" "Oh he did, but I declined him." you said to him "He's not my type." "Oh." Durge was relieved. Thought you didn't need to know that... no. Besides you wouldn't want to be with a... memory loss murderer. No he can't let you find out about what he did no... it would be awful. He lose you in an instant. "Did you want to try and get some sleep?' You asked Durge tilting your head to the side. Durge definitely did blush, the way you looked at him made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Boiling within his very core. He was smitten with you. You rejected the pale elf and you wanted to be with Durge instead. Pride was welling inside him. Maybe he did have a chance... maybe... praying to the gods. "Thank you for the talk." He says to you "I feel more... refreshed, please get some sleep itov." "itov?" you asked him "Was that draconic?" Oh shit "uh yes, it means friend." he lied of course... and you fell for it thank goodness. You left Durge to rest telling him goodnight as you walk back to your bed roll. And Durge watching you leave as he says softly "mel'thurkear." as he curls up to sleep... to try and hope no more nightmares would plague his mind tonight.

Draconic Translation: jacida nhee kiabil- His Sweet Companion. itov-Love mel'thurkear- Goodnight.

[sky-kiss]

Raphael & Jaheira: You All Meet at an Inn

A/N: I had to get an intro out of the way before proper sassing down the line. And apologies, I'm out of practice with writing.

R & J: Let's be honest, his taste in wine is so much better than hers

Like many of his kind, the devil was a series of contradictions. 

Handsome but not striking. Languid, but only on a cursory inspection. A more pointed observation would showcase the taut muscles in his shoulders and thighs, hinting that the lazy rolling motion of his wrist was intentional rather than instinctual. And, perhaps most importantly, despite the ostentatiousness of his garb, rich blues, reds, and golds, which demanded attention and respect, few of the Last Light’s patrons truly saw him. 

Jaheira did not fault them for the oversight. The High Harper noted it with a world-weary amalgamation of affection and exhaustion. Few prey animals noticed the hunter until it was upon them. Man and beast were not such disparate creatures. 

She shifted, rolling her shoulders to alleviate some residual tension—the aches that never seemed to properly fade these days, which had faded until only a decade prior. She should turn him out. And aye, much like the aches, even a decade ago, she might have done something about his presence—but where was the harm? He stuck to his corner and played his games. 

In the darker stretches of the night, his attention shifted away from the lance-board and his books towards the door. The devil waited. 

Jaheira waited, too.  

The devil lifted his head, eyes flicking from the Mystra piece to the Harper. He made a show of it, eyes widening, lips turning up in a smile—noticing her, seemingly for the first time. She snorted, arching a brow. He shrugged, expression relaxing into something more neutral and more genuine, motioning to the seat across from him. 

“You know, I rather wondered which of us would bring our little dance to its close,” he began, voice warm and rich. His lips twitched, expression colored with so many masterful little notes—presumed intimacy, natural familiarity…they might have been old friends meeting for drinks in any alehouse. Easiness and charm…the domain of all his kind. His eyes glittered in the firelight. 

The half-elf sunk into the chair, holding her arms out wide. “Shall we continue circling each other like coquettish maids?” Jaheira waved him off. “Who has time for it?”

“Certainly not you, High Harper. All this,” he motioned around them, attention flicking to the window and the shadows just beyond. “Resting on your shoulders…such a weighty calling.” 

“You offer to take it from me?” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You are so…uniquely equipped for these travails.” 

Jaheira snorted. “Let us call it experience—hard won over many years of life.” She tipped her head to the side, regarding him closely. Without a room of distance between them, she could appreciate the more minor details of this mortal form: wrinkles near the corners of his eyes, hints of sunspots across the back of his hands, and streaks of gray brightening otherwise dark hair. He felt fully manifest in a way so many of his ilk failed to recognize—the little things grounded an illusion in reality. “Come, tell me what to call you. In my head, it is ‘devil this, devil that’...tedious.” 

His eyes widened. “You shall have to forgive this lapse in manners—it’s the setting, you see. One really isn’t at their best.” He mimed a bow, someone still regal despite the confines of the chair. “I am Raphael—very much at your service.” 

“A pleasant name! Well-suited to this pleasant face.”  

Raphael hummed. With a snap of his fingers, the lance-board disappeared. In its place, a bottle of brandy. She did not recognize the label’s language. “A devil in your house, and yet…we are rather blase.” 

“Do not take it personally.” She ghosted her fingers across the table. “Gods of death, demon princes…after these things—” his muscles drew taut, eyes narrowing as she spoke. “ —your feathers are very pretty, but… you make for a much smaller bird.” 

To his credit, Raphael laughed. He poured them each a glass of wine. As if in concession, he took the first sip—no poison. Jaheira bowed her head and followed suit. The wine’s bouquet blossomed across her tongue—rich and deep, a hint of cherry and leather giving way to softer, more subtle notes. It reminded her of Calimshan—pleasant evenings before the true weight of adventuring settled on her shoulder…when she’d been young, Khalid at her side. 

The knowing glint in his eye said he’d anticipated such a reaction. A smaller bird, perhaps, but cunning. I have survived so many years, his gaze said, and I have thrived for good reason. 

“To walk so freely on the Prime is no small thing. And you do not seem the sort to bind yourself to the whims of mortals…” she tapped her chin. “A cambion, then.” 

“Are we to trade parlor tricks, my dear? Shall I ask if your house qualified you as a ‘princess’ or a ‘lady’ in Tethyr?” 

“A lady, though my youngest will argue that point till she is blue in the face.” Jaheira held up her glass in salute. “Do not take offense—it was a compliment, one mongrel to another.” 

Raphael chuckled. “One mongrel to another.” The cambion sighed, relaxing back into his seat. He stroked his chin, fingers teasing across the whisper of stubble—not quite a day’s growth, perhaps a matter of hours. A testament to his dedication and vanity—over the past week, he’d never moved from his seat by the window. “Shall we be honest with each other, ladyship?” 

“It depends. Will honestly not make your skin itch?” 

“You wound me. I am a paragon of virtue to friends and clients both. And the honest truth is I am awaiting a favorite distraction of mine.” He sipped his wine again. “I dare say they might even solve the lion’s share of your problems. Interested?” 

She hummed. Jaheira settled more comfortably in her chair. “Sing me your song, lovely bird. Perhaps…we may yet benefit one another.”

[taoriyu]

Harvest festival

================ Rating: M Pairing: Mizu x F!Reader Description: Your party decided to join the local harvest festival, and you seized the opportunity to spend some time alone with Mizu.

Actually this text is very short and only one bit of it is smut and I wanted it to be also ironic. But still I hope you will enjoy it. Let's goooo ================

Late in the cold and windy autumn evening, Taigen and Ringo made their way down the dimly lit corridor leading to the room they had secured at the inn earlier that day. Outside, the village buzzed with life as the locals celebrated the bountiful harvest. The air was thick with the sounds of merriment — laughter rang out, music played joyfully, and the aroma of rich, hearty food wafted through the streets. It had been Ringo's idea to join the festivities and spend the night at the inn, a rare luxury for your party. After so long on the road, the promise of a warm futon was irresistible.

The inn itself was alive with sounds of revelry. The walls seemed to hum with the echoes of dancing feet and the cheerful chatter of the guests, of loud laughs and also moans. 'What was a harvest festival without celebrating bodies, after all?', Taigen thought approaching the right door. But suddenly he stood right there, his ears perked up to the sounds coming from your shared room. He could hear your ragged breaths transforming into helpless moans that fell into sweet cries of ecstasy.

“No-no-no-no Mizu” his eyebrows twitched “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop” you shout desperately. “Yes-yes-yes like that oh gods oh ah” your words dissolve into a primal and explosive symphony of moans, each one bursting from your lips in a wild and erratic rhythm that builds to a crescendo of unadulterated pleasure. With a final, high pitched cry, you release yourself completely, consumed by the hot and sweet sensation coursing through your body.

If the boys opened the door they would see the two of you: you straddling Mizu with your kosode yanked open to reveal your heaving breasts, glittering with sweat, your mouth open. You breath heavily, slightly shifting from Mizu’s face, partially obscured by lube as she gazes up at you with flushed cheeks. Her skilled fingers gliding over your thighs, your hips, your stomach, thumbs gently stroking skin. A mischievous smirk playing on her lips.

Taigen, his face flushed a deep crimson, reached out and gently placed a hand on Ringo's shoulder, wordlessly suggesting they take a stroll back to the courtyard. "Let's drink more of this wine, shall we, Ringo?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible above the festive din.

Seated at the feasting table, Taigen nursed his wine, a complex and gloomy expression clouding his features. He took a sip, his thoughts turning inward. Akemi's never been like that with me, he mused, the bitterness of his reflection mingling with the taste of the wine.

Across from him, Ringo was equally lost in thought, perplexed by the dissonance between what he had heard and what he believed he understood. After all, master, how does it work? Ringo wondered, his mind spinning in confusion.

----------

Maybe I should try to write a full version of this smut fic. And I definitely want an art with reader's pov now

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Rue the Day

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: Creepy whumper, blood, restraints, magical whump, nonhuman whumpee, multiple whumpees, defiant whumpee, threats of death

“The rabbit is excellent tonight, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Guilford Wentworth sipped from his wine glass. When Kira didn’t answer right away, he smiled, and his teeth seemed stained slightly red. Kira fought back the way her stomach flipped and bile seemed to rise in her throat, fighting to find its way out. 

She had to stay calm. 

“Miss Losna?” Wentworth’s smile widened, giving the lie to the carefully practiced false concern in his voice. “Are you quite all right?”

Kira cleared her throat, blinking rapidly and forcing herself to sip from the wine as well. She kept her eyes on Wentworth, because if she looked at the display behind him, she may not be able to hold the scream back any longer.

There as a whimper, half-suppressed, and Kira set her jaw and told herself to ignore it.

“I am fine,” She managed, and her voice was calm where her heart beat with frantic, frightened wings within her chest. “Rabbit is not my-... it is not a meat I often dine on, is all. The taste is… new to me.”

“Oh? My apologies. I would have chosen a different entree, but I had heard you come from… well, shall we say humble beginnings, and I thought rabbit may be familiar to you.”

His mockery strengthened her nerves. Kira stabbed a bite of rabbit viciously, trying not to think about how the meat had been coated in a bright red berry sauce that tasted too dark and rich. She chewed, and tried not to taste copper.

Because of course there was no copper.

There couldn’t be.

It was all in her mind, all because of-

“I was not raised on rabbit, Lord Wentworth,” She said coldly, and forced her eyes down to the pale ivory ceramic of her plate, painted with a beautifully oceanic blue. Images of mermaids and sea serpents cavorting in stylized waves, blocked in some spots by the rabbit. Just to the edge of the plate, she saw a handful of painted sirens, looking at the other creatures with… melancholy, perhaps.

The whimper came again. 

Kira’s teeth worked the rabbit to nearly nothing before she swallowed. There was something to that soft sound of pain that struck her like a hammer to a gong, her despair ringing in the air so loudly she could nearly hear it. 

“It is not the siren’s fault that your son spoke up,” She managed to say, if only so she could speak over the way the siren’s careful, determined silence had begun to break against the waves of pain. “You shouldn’t punish him for it.”

“So I should end our dinner early and go punish Ford in person?” Wentworth asked, unbothered by the scene behind him, by the sounds the siren could no longer hold back. “You have quite the cold soul, Miss Losna.” His smile widened. “Perhaps I chose you better than I realized.”

“I do not think you should do anything to your son but leave him alone," Kira bit back. "And you did not choose me." Her fork dropped with a clattering against the plate. “I answered an advertisement. You had no idea who I was before I walked up your front steps.”

“True.” Guilford Wentworth tipped his head forward in acknowledgement. "You answered my advertisement for a job."

“I wish to the gods I hadn’t.”

Guilford Wentworth laughed, a harsh, barking sound that nearly made Kira flinch. Somehow, though, she held steady. “I should be honest with you, Miss Losna. I’m not entirely convinced there are any gods at all.”

Kira sat back. Took another drink of wine, and let the room spin a little around her. It loosened her tongue and stiffened her spine, but it also set her cheeks aflame and left her unsteady. Strong, but dizzy, as if spun endlessly in a dance. “That’s blasphemy.”

“It is.” Wentworth nodded, picking up a heavy red fruit and biting into it, red juice on his chin, dripping onto his plate. Kira’s stomach threatened once again to heave itself empty, and she had to grip onto the edges of the table until they nearly cut into her palms to settle the twisting, flipping sensation. “And yet… well, Miss Losna. If there were gods, then you have to assume one of them would have noticed me, hm? I have one of their own. I live longer than men were meant to live. I haven’t aged a day since my siren was bound to me. They are supposedly a gods’ children, aren’t they?”

Kira was silent, then. 

If he wanted to give a speech, let him. She would simply try to get through this meal, and try equally not to be furious with Guilford’s son Ford, whose dismissal from the table had left her alone with this monster masquerading as man.

From the window, the siren’s soft sounds of pain lengthened into a soft wail. Even that, Kira thought with a shiver, sounded like music.

Against her will, she looked at him.

The siren was strung up like a tormented saint, arms up over his head wrapped in rough sailor’s rope that scratched up his skin and smeared it red. His toes barely danced on the floor, barely able to hold even a little of his weight. To stand normally, he had to let his arms hold all his weight, and it tore the ropes in more deeply, bit by bit. Staying on his tiptoes stretched his leg muscles to what must have been screaming agony. 

He was framed by the yellowing evening light coming through the window, nearly making him a silhouette, a suggestion of endless darkness ringed in awful light.

Kira’s eyes burned with what she resolutely denied could be tears as she saw him twisting his wrists a little, blood running in a rivulet down one arm now. The muscle in his arm twitched as the trail worked down to the crook of his elbow, heading towards his shoulder.

He was naked now, the markings that kept him in bondage to Wentworth’s wicked demands on full display. Kia’s heart beat faster than the rabbit whose remains were on her plate had ever been able to run.

Wentworth had given the order in between inane commentary about weather and what grew in the garden’s greenhouses. It had been tossed out like an aside, as if it didn’t matter at all. Areyto had - staring at Kira all the while - begun to tie himself up. He had climbed up himself into position, moved each arm and leg as Wentworth ordered. The butler Babbage, his eyes clouded and cheerfully convinced he was doing something with curtains, had finished stringing him up. 

Once the weight had become to much, Areyto’s eyes had gone blank and empty. He had wiped himself from his own body with the pain.

Or… perhaps only by the work it took to survive it.

He had no ability to die.

Not unless Guilford Wentworth allowed him to.

Servants bustled around - Nadette and Babbage cheerfully refilled empty cups and whisked away each course and brought the next as though they saw nothing. Nadette had come back puzzled as to what she had even been doing upstairs when she was meant to be attending Kira at dinner, and Kira could only pray to gods that may or may not be real that the clarity in her had lasted long enough to find Kira a way out.

They didn’t see the siren for what he was, or even seem to hear his crying.

Kira did.

And she hated Ford, in the moment, for having been here but then getting himself dismissed so she had to be here alone.

“They are,” Kira said, voice trembling a little. “The moon goddess made the ocean’s creatures, sirens, the mer people, the-”

“And yet,” Wentworth interrupted, too committed to his monologue to allow her to cut him off before he was done. Kira stared at Areyto, watching salt tears running down his cheeks, even though his face was utterly blank. “And yet. Look at him, Miss Losna. Look. Does his goddess save him now?”

Kira swallowed, but her throat felt nearly closed and it took far too much effort to manage. “No,” She whispered. “No. His goddess does not save him.”

Lord Wentworth’s fork scraped in dissonance along his plate, dragging Kira’s gaze back to him. “Clearly she doesn’t,” He said, with confidence. “A century and a half, give or take a dozen years here and there, and my siren remains mine. And he will remain mine. There is no goddess of the moon and waters, Miss Losna. There is no god of the land, no mountain deities to worship, no demons hiding in the Maitsa. There is nothing but people, and two kinds of people at that.”

Kira tried to tear her eyes from the siren’s suffering, but all she could make herself look at was the bottom of her emptied wineglass. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to make this bearable.

“The first sort of person goes on living the life prescribed. Does all the right things, says the right words, gets married and bears a few children and then dies. It’s all for nothing. It means nothing. The second sort of person is far more rare.”

Guilford Wentworth stood, and Kira’s breath caught as he picked up the sharpened blade of the knife that had been beside his plate. He turned away from her, walking over to the siren. Kira should have stood, then - stood and run - but she felt frozen. 

“The second sort of person,” Guilford said, voice lower now, “Is one who controls his own fate. Who refuses to live the prescribed life. Who takes control.”

The edge of the knife cut into the unmarked side of the siren’s body, a slow slice echoing the line of his ribs. 

“Hold still for me,” Guilford said, voice low and thick with some sickening emotion Kira didn’t dare name. The siren turned to look at him, and something in his empty face flickered back to life. There was a pleading there. A scream, but a silent one. “Hold, Areyto.”

The siren’s lips trembled as the knife left him and cut again. Blood ran down to his hip, maneuvered around and over it, ran down the inside of one muscled thigh. Kira’s heart beat so hard she had trouble breathing around it now, as if her lungs refused to expand. She took shallow gasps instead. 

Her fingers closed around her own fork, unconsciously, and she pushed herself to her feet. “Stop,” She whispered. 

“Areyto is mine.” A third slice had the siren weeping openly, unable to fight the pain everywhere within him any longer. Guilford raised his free hand and wiped a tear away with his thumb, licking it off the tip and humming, as if he’d tasted the finest wine. “As you will be. I could cut you just like this, and if he commanded it, you would hold perfectly still.”

“I said-” Her voice cracked. She moved, though, without thinking, coming around the edge of the table and heading towards him. The fork seemed to come to life in her hand, silvered metal twisting and heating up until her palm felt like it was burning. But somehow the burn did not hurt at all. “I said for you to stop. He does whatever you want, leave him be. I don’t require this showcase of your power, Lord Wentworth, you already have me held here against my will!”

“Oh, Miss Losna.” Guilford sighed, happily. “You find yourself terribly mistaken. This isn’t about you at all. I’m not doing this to show you my power over him.”

“Then-” Kira came to a stop, a few feet away. The fork in her hand no longer felt like a fork at all. She looked slowly down at it. “Then why are you-”

“Because he is beautiful,” Guilford breathed, looking back to the siren with shining eyes. “Like this. Because there is nothing I cannot do now.”

Kira had no ready rejoinder, and after a heartbeat of trying - and failing - to think of one she gave up. Standing here watching her captor torture a siren who had done nothing but run into him hurt more than it should. Sirens, after all, were monsters who sang men to their deaths, who took sailors to the depths. But Areyto was also a man, if not a human one. One worn down like river rocks, and soon enough he would be fine as sand, and then he would be nothing at all. 

The air felt heavier and heavier around her, as if any moment now she would cease to be able to breathe it. The inside of her head, by contrast, felt too light, floating away from her. 

Torn in two, she decided to hell with false politeness. 

“Why not just get it over with?” She asked, without looking away. The siren seemed to feel her eyes on him and managed to - briefly - meet her gaze. There was something pleading, there, in the darkness of his eyes. 

“It?” Guilford cut him again, and Kira watched skin twitching beneath his knife and wondered if she could simply vomit all over Wentworth to make this awfulness end. In her hand, the for had become long, straightened out. A sort of tiny spear of silver, and it burned hot enough that she knew if she hadn’t been the one to create it, her hand would be blistered and bubbling. 

She raised her chin. “It, Lord Wentworth. Whatever it is you plan to do to me. Destroying my mind, marrying me off to your son, whatever it is you’ve got tucked away to ruin lives for your own amusement. Why not just do it and cease forcing me to… wait?” 

“Ah.” Wentworth smiled. “Well, that’s quite simple, Miss  Losna.”

“It… it is?”

“It is indeed. Areyto? Would you care to explain?”

The siren cut his eyes back to Guilford, staring at him with such open, baleful loathing that the sheer force of the expression took Kira’s breath away. Then the pain overtook his ability to hold the expression and he slumped into sullen silence, seconds ticking past. 

“Areyto.” Guilford Wentworth’s eyes narrowed. “Tell. Her.”

Areyto’s mouth opened without his say-so. Kira watched him as he spoke, rote and lifeless, voice thin and rough with pain. “The magic-... must be written with free will, or… or it is too weak to hold me.”

Kira blinked. “But-... wait. You-... you enthralled your first magician-”

“I had the thrall lifted,” Guilford said, voice going a little softer. He looked away, then, over towards the grand floor-to-ceiling windows. “Every ten years. For two days, I had it lifted. And she strengthened the spell.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Guilford said, almost gently, lifting his own knife just under the siren’s chin, nicking his throat just to watch the blood run from there, too. “If she didn’t, I would ensure my wife would throw herself off the roof.”

Kira took in a breath.

There was only one monster in this room.

She moved all at once, pushed by a swell of emotion that felt like being sucked under by the riptide, and reached up as high as she could. The burning-hot silver in her hand sliced through the ropes that held the siren as if they were made of butter, not heavy hemp, and the siren dropped to the floor all at once with a cry.

She turned, stepping between Guilford and the siren, lifting her chin. 

“You have no such way to force me, Lord Wentworth.”

To her shock, though he did step back from her, Guilford Wentworth did not react with fear or anger. 

Instead… he laughed. “Of course I do.”

“Oh?” Kira shifted, unconsciously moving closer to Areyto, who had not moved from the floor. She could hear him growling, a sound somehow utterly animal and deeply musical, a bass note held unending. Blood smeared under his hands, soaking into the shining wood under him. It was a deep, oxygen-rich burgundy, darker than Kira’s own - a reminder that despite his appearance, he wasn’t human. 

Not that being inhuman meant he deserved any bit of this.

She faced Wentworth head on, chin high, with every ounce of courage she had in her. The wine had gone entirely to her head, but her voice stayed steady and strong. “And what, exactly, will you do to make me obey you and help you make an empire for yourself when I would happily tear out your throat with my own damn teeth if they weren’t so blunt?” 

Behind her, the siren made a new sound.

It wasn’t quite open laughter - he was in far too much pain. But the soft sound, the huff of breath with the barest edge of volume to it, set stronger steel in Kira’s spine just the same. Warmed something in her that had frozen over before. 

“I won't lift a finger to stop you, Miss Losna.” Wentworth moved away, picking up his wine glass and taking another sip. 

Her lip lifted in a snarl at the smug lie he told so easily. “You speak like a man who hasn’t barred all the bedroom windows to keep me inside,” She responded, voice tight.

Wentworth’s smile did not waver or fade, but something in it tightened. “I will not stop you,” He repeated. “But everyone else here will.”

“You will have them… attack me? Do me harm?”

“No. I will have them do themselves harm.”

Kira froze. “What?” Her voice was a whisper. 

Wentworth shrugged. “Every single one of them will die, by their own hand, as soon as you step off of my property. Their deaths will not be quick or clean, and they will be because of you.”

Kira’s jaw worked, her eyes moving to where Nadette and Babbage still stood by the kitchen door, both of them smiling politely and seemingly unaware of the confrontation by the window. “You lie.”

“No, my dear, I do not. The order has already been given.” Wentworth sighed, voice gentling. “It was given as soon as I knew you had already met my siren. If you leave, they will die. You will consign three dozen servants to their deaths, including my butler and of course your own sweet maidservant… even the stable boy will hang himself in the barn. Every one of them will die in some way, and they will know why they do it but be unable to stop. So.” He lifted one hand, twirling his finger in pointed down. “I suggest, Miss Losna, that you drop your weapon, or I will command the first death. Which of course will be the lovely young Nadette.”

Kira hitched in a breath, fear washing cold across her. She stared at Nadette’s smiling face, where she stood across the room, and thought of the terror in the girl when she had grabbed her arm and said I don't want to be here. “I-... You wouldn't. How would your life ever continue-”

“I will. If you refuse me, and I lose my siren’s power, then my life will be short and brutish regardless. I have little to lose, if the creature is lost. So leave and know your selfishness will be their cause of death. And know, also, that I will ensure you are charged by the king with every single murder. After all, I have no magic. But you do. Or so the king will believe. Drop the weapon, Miss Losna. Now.”

“Lord Wentworth-”

“Drop the weapon,” Guilford said, voice lower than ever. “And say, yes, my lord. Or Nadette will drink the vial she carries in her pocket, and you will watch her die in agony.”

Kira stood still for a long moment.

The bit of silver clattered from her numb fingers to the floor. 

When Wentworth's eyebrows raised and he leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear as he waited, she swallowed and managed, in a trembling voice, “Y-... Yes, m-my lord.”

“Good girl.” Wentworth's voice was sickly sweet and low. His smile widened once more - too wide, grotesquely stretched. “Sit back down, we still have to enjoy our dessert.”

Kira felt her feet moving without her, drifting back to her chair. Her mind raced and the world around her felt suddenly unreal as she settled, staring down at her plate until Babbage whisked it away and disappeared back into the kitchen again.

Kira looked over at the siren, where he still knelt on the floor.

“You, too,” Wentworth said, beckoning the siren with a single crook of his finger. Areyto pushed himself uncertainly to his feet, struggling to stay upright. His ribs were still bleeding, the smell of it overwhelming and making Kira’s stomach flip again. Or maybe it had never stopped. 

Areyto sat back in his chair, still naked - the servants didn’t seem to notice. Kira couldn’t see anything past his bright eyes and the red of his blood. The sight of him felt real in a way nothing else in this house of horrors did. 

“You will not leave your room again unless summoned,” Wentworth said, imperious now. “If you are found anywhere else, even once, I will begin ordering deaths. If you care about the lives of anyone but yourself, Miss Losna, you will go where you are bid and do what I tell you. And you will bind my siren back to me with all the magic you can use.”

Kira kept her eyes on the siren.

She had no idea what was served for dessert. She heard nothing Wentworth said after that. At some point, she was given leave to return to her rooms and she fled to the stairs, feeling a stab of guilt at leaving the siren once again alone with this monstrous man. But it was not enough guilt to stop her.

Once she had closed the door behind her, she flung herself on her bed, screaming into the heavy soft pillow.

How had she already begun to think of this as her room? This bed as her bed? How could she have been so well encircled and not realized he would use the servants against her?

She screamed again.

This time, she kept it up until her throat burned with it and her voice began to give, going hoarse and rough. She held the pillow against her face until sparks danced behind her closed eyes as she fought for air. Finally, she threw the pillow away, watching it thump onto the floor.

Then she turned to where it had been and saw the crumpled paper there. Kira swallowed, picking the folded piece of paper up and slowly opening it. 

Young Master Ford, Young Miss Nathalie, and the twins all have rooms without bars on the windows. 

Master Ford will come to you at midnight with the siren. 

Miss Nathalie will, too.

Nathalie. Kira felt something in her settle. That would be the eldest daughter from the painting, Ford’s younger sister. Clearly she and Ford felt similarly, if they were going to help Kira and Areyto, or even just Kira…

No.

She wouldn’t leave here without the siren beside her. Areyto needed rescue more than she did, in the end, and it wasn’t his singing that made her believe it. It was her own conviction. Her own certainty.

Kira pushed herself off the bed, then, setting her shoulders with resolution and heading into the bathing room, hoping against hope she could somehow manage to get this dress off all by herself.

She was sorely in need of a bath.

-

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