#I went a little overboard with taking pictures

[victorluvsalice]

Welcome to Summer Friday in the Chill Valicer Save, everyone -- otherwise known as THE VALICER WEDDING UPDATE! Which is so massive at ninety pictures that I had to take advantage of the fact that I'm now on the new post editor and can upload more than ten pictures at a time to a post. ^^; So you're only getting hit with six posts today instead of nine (that works out to fifteen pictures a post, if you're curious). You're welcome. :p

So, let's get started with -- farm chores! Yes, it may have been Victor and Smiler's wedding day, with bonus Victor and Alice vow renewal, but that doesn't mean they got a day off from their usual activities around the farm. So this is how they spent their morning prior to the big event:

-->Victor started off his day by taking a turn to feed the chickens, then got sent to make some more eco upgrade parts -- and I guess the fabricator actually likes him now, because it didn't try to attack him ONCE. I guess I'm glad, since he needs the eco upgrade parts (especially since I discovered that you CANNOT Copypasto them while he was feeding the chickens), but I do kinda miss dye-sprayed Victor from that one alternate timeline. Maybe one day in the future! :p Anyway, Shadow wandered in while he was finishing up said parts, and I discovered to my delight that they could become companions -- I promptly had them do so, then had Victor take Shadow out for an early-morning jog (discovering in the process that the community garden area has these mysterious blue lights hovering around the trees when it's dark! I don't know if my screenshot did it justice, but it was pretty cool :D).

-->Alice went right back to writing her latest book, "Vorpal Rhymes" -- if she's gonna be an official Bestselling Author aspiration-wise, she's gotta keep the books coming! This proved to be a little difficult, though, simply because Guidry kept coming in to chat and distract her. *sigh* Dude, I don't know why you keep trying to talk to her, you guys don't really vibe well. As shown when, upon finishing her book and finding herself needing a bath, she chose to transform into her werewolf form to lick herself clean, and Guidry immediately got all scared and annoyed with her for doing so. Sir -- sir, you are a ghost. A ghost with a storied history of being a paranormal investigator if we believe your in-game backstory! You should be at least somewhat used to this! *shakehead* Don't let him get you down, Alice -- I think your beast form is pretty neat.

-->Smiler probably had the easiest morning out of the three to start, just recycling a bunch of trash piles before heading to their robot bench to make more chatterbots and a computer chip for future robot upgrades. However, as they were finishing up that, I happened to look over at the chicken coop and noticed it was REEKING. O.o How did that happen? I promptly had them give it a scrub and dump some more feed out there for the chickens, since we do have a full coop. Always something when you live on a working farm!

[idksmtms]

I Sit And Watch You... (tolerate it p2) (Daemon Targaryen x Niece/Wife!reader, Criston Cole x reader) - evermore series

P1: tolerate it

A/N: After intense and popular demand, I decided to write a part 2 to ‘tolerate it’ even though the goal for the series was one fic per song… ANYWAY! I hope you guys enjoy it! And sorry that it took me so long but I went soooo overboard writing this… 

Summary: After the realisation that your husband not only does not love you, but has been in love with your sister since before you were even married, you feel adrift in the world. But then suddenly, like a flame appearing in the dark of night, your heart is reignited by someone. This poses an entirely different problem for your poor little heart. 

Word count: ~17k (my god...)

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, Rhaenyra’s younger sister, canon typical incest, INCEST, age gap, unrequited love, angst, like a lot of angst, like ANGSTTTT, depictions of depression, bedrotting due to depression, cheating, insecurity, self-hatred, self-abuse, SMUT, PinV sex, oral (f!receiving), sex-related shame, feeling shame after having sex, just really sad tbh, forbidden relationship, probably OOC characters but I honestly can’t give a shit bc I want to write angst, probs typos (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You weren’t sure how long you drifted between sleep and wakefulness in the dark comfort of your bed. Every few hours one of the maids would poke their head through the crack in the curtains and ask if you were alright, if you wanted or needed anything. Sometimes you wouldn’t answer, would simply stare off into the distance as if you were watching worlds they could not see. Other times you would shake your head despondently, slow and stiff, your eyes not moving from the spot they had latched onto. 

Once you had turned to look at the young girl standing at the side of your bed, the curtains pulled back a little and her frowning face shadowed by the sun from behind her. You had simply stared into her face and your eyes had slowly begun to fill with tears until she panicked and slid the curtain shut and rushed out of your room. 

You never wanted anything, never needed anything, the maids noticed. They could see tear tracks on your cheeks from time to time, could see the dampness of it on your pillows, and they often muttered to each other about your state, but not a word was said to anyone unless they took notice of it themselves. 

The entire week you stayed in your bed, your father knew nothing of your state. He had washed his hands of you the second you had been married off to Daemon, and his sole focus in his slowly dwindling life was Rhaenyra. He had asked after you only once and received the response that you weren’t feeling particularly well. He had frowned, asked the maids to keep an eye on you, and left it at that. 

Rhaenyra, hearing of your sudden sickness had come to inquire after you but had received no response from the curtained bed and had felt too awkward around you since your wedding to even try and breach your little confinement. She had stood just beside the bed for a few moments, head tilted up to the ceiling as she tried to think of something, anything, to say but eventually just sighed and wished you well before hurrying out of the room. 

Alicent came by to visit you once every day. After hearing of you taking to your bed on the first day and refusing your meals by the evening, she had told Ser Criston to take up a post outside your door and inform her of any changes. She always came to sit on the edge of your bed for an hour to simply watch you or offer idle words about her days. She liked to believe you only responded to her, for you would often simply grasp her hand with shaking fingers as she sat with you, and closed your eyes to listen to whatever she had to say. But despite her best efforts, her gentle words to try and convince you to get out of bed or to at least change out of your nightgown went unanswered. 

Daemon visited you once in the entire week you were abed. When you had not shown yourself for dinner on the first evening, he had asked for the maidservant to check on you. He had become accustomed to having meals with you, to the comforting drone of chatter in the background while he sat at the table, and it felt freakishly odd not to have it. Though he was often described as a chaotic person, he was disciplined, and once set in a routine enjoyed keeping it that way. 

When the maids returned with a quiet “the Princess said she is not feeling well and has gone to her bed early”, he had simply shrugged and moved on, eating his meal while reading a scroll on the Valyrian histories. But then you were nowhere to be found on the second day, and the third, and when half of the fourth passed and he heard whispers of your complete absence from all of your duties, a tingle of discomfort had settled itself in the pit of his stomach. He wouldn’t say he was worried about you, but something in the air suddenly felt off and he wanted it fixed as soon as possible. The world being out of order simply wouldn’t do. 

In the sunlight hour just before dusk, when everything was bathed in a yellow slowly turning to orange and gave the world a warm hazy glow, he marched all the way to your chambers (the ones he had been supposed to share with you). When he had found Criston Cole standing guard at your door, he had almost snarled out loud like a disgruntled dog. He paused for a moment, grimacing as if someone had just put a lime in his mouth without his consent, and then pushed through the doors before remembering you were unwell and might be sleeping. He became quieter then, turning slowly to close the door behind himself and walking with light footsteps. 

Though it was still daytime, your room was pitch dark, illuminated only by the thin cracks of light that peeped between the curtains. His eyebrows furrowed, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he searched the room for any threat but found nothing in the low light. When he found the curtains around your bed closed, his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. For a moment, when he reached out and gently grasped the edges, he wondered what he would find in the bed. Would there be a corpse, rotten and shrivelled from how long it had been there? Or would there be an assassin, an attacker ready to pounce as soon as he illuminated them? 

He pulled the curtain back only enough to look through with one eye, but what he found was nothing more than the sad sight of a girl asleep in her bed. Though it was warm in the room, becoming almost stifling, you were under the covers. You were on your side, curled around the pillow you clutched tightly in your arms, and for a second he imagined that that’s what you would look like in bed with someone. Your hair was splayed out behind you messily, all over the pillow and some strands fallen upon your cheeks. Your mouth was parted just a little, lips moving with soft steady breaths. Your cheeks were flushed, and he could see the shine of sweat creeping forward from the back of your neck. 

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he stood there, watching you sleep, but he had found it difficult to tear himself away. How did one manage to look so sad while asleep? He wondered as he noticed the puffiness around your eyes and the way your fingers clenched into the pillow as if it would be taken from you at any moment. 

There seemed to be nothing else wrong with you, no gauntness in your cheeks or skin rash in sight, no visible ailment from how much of your body he could glean, but he decided to find the maester before the day was over. He left as quietly as he had entered, tucking the curtain closed again and shooting Criston a sneer as he came back out and strode down the hallway trying to remember where the maesters kept their quarters. 

You were in your bed for a week, leaving only to use the chamber pot behind the changing dividers before clambering right back into your bed. All your meals were brought in and left on the little table just beside your bed, and for the first three days were returned to the kitchens untouched. It was only after the third day went by, when Christys, once your nursemaid and later a kitchen hand when you had no more need of her as a child, noticed your third breakfast returning without even a nibble and made her way up to your chambers. 

She gently pulled your curtain back and stared at your pathetic little figure curled up under the sheets and sleeping though it was midday. Your eyelids were puffy and dark circles had begun forming under your eyes despite how much you seemed to have been resting. She placed the tray on the little table then sat down on the edge of the bed, just as she had once done when you were sick as a child. Her old weathered face was pulled into a worried frown and she gently reached out and caressed your head. Your eyes opened instantly, it appeared that you hadn’t been sleeping after all, and you watched her as if you had never seen her before. She smiled, or tried to, and caressed your cheeks with a little hum. 

“Little princess,” she called kindly, and you felt the urge to reach out and caress her face, all the wrinkles that had appeared since you had been a child under her care. Her skin was beginning to sag a little around her neck and cheeks and her face was all soft and pudgy, as you imagined a grandmother’s to be like. 

She did not try to convince you to leave the confines of your bed, to come out where the sun was shining and to leave the melancholia behind. She simply told you that if you would like to sit up a little, she would help you drink a sip of water, eat a bite of food, and perhaps you would feel a little better once you lay down again. 

You nodded, just one little dip of your head, and allowed her to help you shift your body up a little so you were sitting up against the mound of pillows. You reeked of sweat and the slightly sour smell that came from a stagnant room. Your hair was beginning to get matted and greasy but you did not seem to care about a thing, did not even notice it all. 

Christys brought the goblet to your lips, smiling joyfully as you began to take sips, then gulps as the thirst you had ignored took control of your body. You finished two full goblets before you were sated and lay back on the bed with your eyes closed for a moment, heaving as if you had been running through the halls with Rhaenyra as you had once done as children. Christys gently caressed your head, smiling fondly as you leaned into her touch. 

“Would you like to eat something, little princess?” She asked quietly, and you only opened your eyes. You looked unsure, as if you were aware of the world around you for the first time, and she didn’t give you the chance to refuse, simply brought the plate into her lap, spooned up a little bit of the broth, and brought it to your lips. Slowly, you opened your mouth and accepted it, humming softly when you realised it was the slightly spicy southern soup she used to make for you when you were sad as a child. 

You looked at Christys with your big eyes wide open, as if you were waiting for something, and she almost began to cry. That was exactly how you used to look at her when you were just six summers old, eyes wide, mouth open, as you waited for her to feed you another bite. But there had been nothing so despondent about you back then, no air of defeat hanging around you. What had happened to you that you became like that child again? 

Christys smiled at you, a thin watery smile, and held up the spoon again, watching you swallow the broth once more and gently saying “my good girl”, squeezing your hand in commendation as you allowed your lips to relax and smile for the first time since you had entered the bed. 

Once you had finished about half the meal, you shook your head and slowly began sliding back down under the covers. Christys simply nodded and placed the plate back on the tray. She gently took a hold of the covers and pulled them up until your chin, tucking them in a little around you before bending down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Rest well, my sweet princess,” she whispered, and when you closed your eyes, you finally looked serene. 

On the fourth day, just as night fell, a maester came to see you. You were sat up in bed again after Christys had come to feed you your dinner and had decided to stay sat up even as she left to bring the tray back down to the kitchens. Though the despondency hadn’t left you still, you felt marginally better now after eating and being doted upon by both Alicent and Christys. 

You still had no plans to leave your bed, you had become very quickly accustomed to the little space you had created for yourself in it, and were suddenly beginning to feel a debilitating sense of worry every time you imagined stepping foot outside of it and facing the rest of the world. Despite this, after your second day of proper meals, you were considering reaching out of your little cave and grabbing for a scroll or tome you might have left upon your little table if something still happened to be there. 

But just as you had finally resolved to do so, you heard the doors open and one of your maids announced that a maester had come to see you. You said nothing, hoping perhaps that your lack of an answer would send them away, but one curtain was simply pulled back and the maester gazed down at you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, as if you had been caught doing something you should not have been doing, but he smiled gently and came closer as you gulped in fright. 

“Your highness, word is that you have been taken ill for the past few days,” he spoke jovially, as if hoping his joking tone would heal you, but you simply shook your head and dipped it down to look at your lap. 

“Thank you for coming maester,” your voice was hoarse and croaky from a lack of use, and you quickly grabbed the goblet that Christys had left on your table to both take soothing sips of water and give your hands something to do. “But your visit is unnecessary.” You tried to smile but it wouldn’t show, and eventually you looked up at him with earnest eyes, hoping he would leave as soon as you were done speaking. “Though, yes, it is true that I have been confined to the bed, it is myself that has done the confinement. What ails me is not a matter of the body, but one of the heart.” You chewed on your lip, feeling as if you had said too much, but the maester smiled understandingly and gestured to the edge of your bed as if asking to sit. You nodded. 

“Your highness, if I understand correctly, you have been in your first quarrel with your husband, and it has much affected you.” You began to shake your head, to open your mouth to deny his claim, but he went on without allowing space for interjection. “But it is the way of marriages to have disagreements. You and your husband will likely have many more before the time of either of your deaths - gods willing it be a long time from now - but it is nothing to worry over so.” You pursed your lips and let him speak, hoping the spiel would end quickly and he would be out of your hair.  “And if you believe your actions have caused your husband to abandon his love for you, then know that it is he who came himself to find me and instruct me to visit you out of concern for your wellbeing.” He smiled almost triumphantly, and began standing from the bed as if he had solved everything already, but you looked up at him with a little frown. 

“Daemon went to you?” Your voice was small, confused, and he nodded quickly. 

“Yes, just as the sun set he found me and told me that you had not been out of bed for four days and nights and to heal you at once.” You nodded, not knowing what to say, and watched him walk out of the room, disgruntled that he had not closed the curtain behind himself. 

You were unsure as to the weird churning in your heart. It was all warm and giddy at the thought of Daemon being concerned for you, visiting you while you were asleep and then hunting the maester down for you. It was an act of caring, if not love, and your poor battered heart already began to churn with hope that maybe he could love you if he did not already. But then you were seeing him leaned over Rhaenyra, hair flopping forward onto his forehead. You saw the way she twisted back and forth at the waist teasingly, eyes dancing with mischief as she bit her lip and waited for him to bend down and kiss her silly. 

The hope crashed, the despondency returned, and the cycle began once more until you felt you were going mad and began smacking your head against the pillows until your brain felt physically shaken. You wanted to cry, but you were all cried out. You wanted to scream, but you had no voice. You wanted to run, but you couldn’t move. In the end, you lay back on the bed with your eyes closed and let your mind spiral. 

Why did he not love you? What was it you had done that made you unworthy of love? Or maybe it was not what you had done, but what you hadn’t. You hadn’t been pretty enough; you were always noticing blemishes on your skin or fat in places there shouldn’t be or the fact that all of your mother’s beauty had been inherited by Rhaenyra, the realm’s delight, your father’s precious and beautiful child, while you were left to yourself without compliment or radiance. You weren’t funny enough; you never had a joke on hand to tell, you weren’t confident enough to tell it anyway. You couldn’t command a room the way Rhaenyra could, or make everyone burst out with laughter at the simplest of words. You always felt stupid despite the amount of time you spent reading or conversing with maesters or travellers. You weren’t loving enough; your smile didn’t instil warmth in the hearts of others, perhaps your kind words weren’t kind enough or your efforts to demonstrate your love were not worthy enough. You simply hadn’t been enough. 

The final two days you spent in your bed, you spent thinking. What would you do when you were eventually forced back into the world? How would you continue on? It was obvious that you could not stay hiding in the little world you had created for yourself, if only because you desperately needed to bathe or had begun wanting to visit the library to pick your next read. You didn’t find the answer while still in your bed, but on the sixth day, Christys finally convinced you to get out and properly stretch your legs before having a bath. 

“A good stretch, a nice warm bath, getting dressed in your prettiest clothes, will do wonders for you little princess. You may not feel all the way better, but something will have changed and you will be the better for it.” You had nodded, thanking her in a small voice and slipping out of the bed as she went to get the maids to start your bath. 

You shivered when your feet touched the cold stone, and though your muscles were stiff at first, it felt good to walk the length of the room over and over until your weakened legs began to shake. You had pushed the curtains back not only on the bed, but on the windows too and had felt your spirits lift as the afternoon sunshine filled your room. 

When all the maids came in to fill the tub set at the side of your room, they smiled with relief and tittered over the state of you. With the sunshine and the friendly faces and jovial chatter, your mood began to rise again and despite the ever-present sadness that still lingered in the back of your mind, you felt good for a little while. 

They steeped you in the bath like you were tea, letting your skin become pruny as they washed your hair three times over, then scrubbed you down like you were one of the old dirty carpets from the storeroom. You felt pink and raw, like a new skin had emerged from under your old one and the world was a little brighter again. You even laughed when one of the maids made a joke about the habits of debauchery of one of the stableboys. 

You picked out a beautiful blush-pink dress that had been made from special fabric brought from Dorne. It was light and airy, designed more in the Dornish fashion leaving your shoulders and arms exposed except for thick straps that held the dress up on your upper arms. You twirled giddily in front of the mirror a few times before sitting down to have your hair done, you never could help yourself from it when you were in that dress. 

The maids enjoyed seeing you so alive again after the past week of worry and woe. They giggled happily and clapped for you, and were excited to do your hair. They weaved intricate braids and gathered some of them into a twist on the back of your head while leaving others to fall down your back over the last layer of your unbraided hair. They even wanted to rub rouge on your lips and cheeks and line your eyes but you had politely refused saying you were enjoying the feeling of being clean and fresh-faced, and would keep yourself that way for the rest of the day. Though you had been worrying about your beauty a few days prior, you knew you looked the way you did and couldn’t change it. If you weren’t pretty enough for Daemon, for anyone, you would simply have to learn to accept it and live with it, no matter how much you wished it to be otherwise. 

When you opened the doors to your room by yourself for the first time in a week, a little jittery to face the world once more, you were surprised by the guard who stood across the hall from your chambers. He was not your usual protector, the fresh faced Ser Arryk you had become used to, but a stoic faced Dornishman you believed you had seen trailing Rhaenyra before her wedding, but you couldn’t be sure. 

You gazed at him for a moment, at the shiny black eyes he averted to the floor as he bowed stiffly in his armour, the thick and beautiful hair combed perfectly back and the faint beard he sported around his mouth and over his jawlines, just past a stubble but not very much. His skin was beautiful and golden brown, like he had been born with the gentle touch of the sun, and for a moment you lost yourself while looking at him. He was exactly as you had imagined a knight to be, tall and dark and strong. He was limned with lethal power. 

You smiled, polite and surprised and small, and though he did not return it, only nodded in acknowledgement, you could see his face soften slightly and settle into something a little more gentle and blurred around the edges. You stepped a little closer, still a respectful distance from any man who was not your husband, and curtsied as if you were not the princess but a serving girl passing him in the halls. 

“Hello, Ser,” you began, voice almost whispery, “I mean not to offend, only to inquire where Ser Arryk has been off to and left you to his usual duties.” You were warm, and polite almost to a fault, Criston thought, and he had to purse his lips for a moment to stop a smile breaking out on his face at the innocent yet slightly smiley look you offered him. 

“Your highness, I am Ser Criston Cole,” and he bowed again as if he had not already done so when first laying eyes upon you, “and fret not about Ser Arryk shirking his duties. He has simply been posted elsewhere for the past week as the queen has personally asked me to oversee your protection while you were unwell.” 

“Oh,��� you breathed out, smiling in both realisation and fondness as you thought about Alicent sacrificing her trusted guard for you. “The queen is a kind soul,” you spoke with reverence, smiling at the floor for a moment before looking back to him. He had been watching you the entire time, as if he simply could not avert his eyes lest you disappear in a cloud of smoke the second his attention was elsewhere. “Well, if you are still on duty as my protector, would you care to accompany me to the library for the afternoon? I am in desperate need of new reading material.” You asked it as if it was not his job to follow you everywhere you went, as if he needed convincing to accompany you and wasn’t under threat of being a deserter, a traitor to the crown if he refused. 

“Wherever you go, I will follow, your highness,” he stated simply, holding his hand out as if telling you to lead the way. You nodded in return, but stood still for a moment as if you were a bit dazed and lost in your surroundings. Then you shook your head a little, like a puppy shaking water off its fur, and continued down the hallway with your light, graceful steps. 

As you walked, Criston a stride behind, he watched you with curious (and apprehensive) eyes. You had always been a distant, rather obscure, figure in his life. Someone he walked past in the hallways of the Keep or only knew by name. When Rhaenyra had first chosen him to be a new member of the King’s Guard, he had been briefed on the entire immediate family, anyone who he could possibly be assigned to if he was not with Rhaenyra, and of course you had been included in it, but he had not been told much, and had never needed it either, for Rhaenyra took up so much of his time and never spent any of hers with you. Not once had he heard her mention her younger sister, nor meet with you for more than a moment in passing in the hallway during which he bent his head in respect and allowed you two your privacy.  

There was only one moment he remembered clearly from that time. He had been strolling through the gardens with Rhaenyra on an idle and rather humid afternoon. It felt like the entirety of King’s Landing had been poured in syrup, each movement one made was slow, lethargic, succumbing to the heat of the summer. Rhaenyra, still in her youthful blissfulness, her mischief knowing no bounds in her rebellion against her father and Alicent, had been slowly twisting her way down the path, twirling a plucked flower in her hands as he followed. She would occasionally speak to him, say something witty or sarcastic or give a boring observation about something or other, and he would hum or nod or offer whatever thought had conjured in his head at the time. Though it was boring, it was also comfortable. 

Then, a light tinkling laugh carried over the air making them both pause. They couldn’t see you yet, you were past the next curve and some bushes still hid the courtyard from which the laugh came. Rhaenyra paused where she was on the path, staring ahead and continuing to twirl the flower in her hand before turning around and walking back toward where he stood. 

“I have suddenly changed my mind,” she spoke quietly, eyes distant as she chewed on her lip, “perhaps finding a cool sitting room somewhere in the Keep would be better suited for this afternoon.” He only nodded, he could sense the change in her mood, the pensive air that now hung about her, but before they began walking, hurried little steps came down the path and you were barreling into their view. 

“Oh!” You let out a surprised little sound, pausing and almost falling backward in your surprise as you brought a hand to your heart. He watched the fabric of your dress, flowing and beautiful, sway with you, your bare shoulders and the long bell sleeves draping down your arms. The light fabric and the way it moved around you like air reminded him of the time he had spent in Dorne, of the trees swaying in a midsummer breeze. Your cheeks were flushed and a happy little smile widened your mouth, eyes sparkling with girlish joy. Your hair was braided in the fancy way all Targaryens braided theirs, but there was something more free and wild about yours compared to Rhaenyra’s. “Sister,” you breathed out quietly, smiling almost bashfully when you looked upon her. He could tell neither of you were close, but you seemed to put in much more effort to be kind to her than she did in even acknowledging you. 

“Sister,” Rhaenyra responded, almost curt, a tight-lipped smile pushing uncomfortably on her face. 

“How do you fare on this fine day?” You asked, clasping your hands in front of yourself. 

“Fine,” she answered simply, and a rather awkward silence fell between you as you nodded, pursing your lips and suddenly looking rather downtrodden. 

“I’m sorry to have intruded upon your leisure time,” you spoke quietly, “and excuse any impropriety I may have shown in running through the halls, I was simply excited. I…” you looked down to the floor and bit your lip to control your smile. “Some special new thread has been brought in from Dorne and I wished to immediately start on my new embroidery project.” You spoke as if she had asked after you, when Criston had noted a clear absence of not only Rhaenyra’s questioning of you but of her seeming interest in your presence. But you continued as if you were used to it, as if you believed she wanted to ask these questions but simply chose to let you speak, and something churned in his stomach at the thought. “I would like to embroider my dragon saddle with some designs, and this thread would be perfect for it, hardy but pretty,” and you looked at your hands giddily as if you were already holding it. Then you seemed to bow your head for a moment as you said your goodbyes, “I shall leave you to your leisure, Sister,” and you walked off hurriedly past them, as if you hadn’t noticed his presence the entire time. 

As he looked upon you now on the way to the library, he realised a change had overcome you since that time. Just as one had overcome him. Though you were dressed more in the Dornish style, like a summer sky on the hottest day of the year, you reminded him more of the monsoon rains at the island’s southernmost tip, warm drops of rain falling from orange-grey skies at sunset. Your steps were no longer light and dance-like. Though they were still graceful, they were careful, measured. You held yourself differently, much more still, and he couldn’t imagine you skipping or running girlishly through the halls. Even your face, having grown a little more, had taken on a sombre quality. Your eyes were thoughtful, slightly closed off, and… sad. And your face rested on something serene now, something gently heartbreaking though you were neither smiling nor frowning. 

He followed you all the way into the library and then back and forth through the spaces between the shelves. Occasionally you would turn to him and point out a tome you had once read as a girl, or the scrolls you had only just returned the week before. Then you would smile up at him, as if his silent company was most cherished by you, and it soothed something in him he didn’t know was hurt in the first place. 

Later in the evening, when all the candles had been lit and you had been returned to your room to prepare for dinner and Criston had been relieved of his duties for a few hours by the return of Ser Arryk, he found a messenger from the queen requesting his presence in her parlour. The entire way there, he thought about you, as if his mind could find nothing else interesting other than the way you had gently refused him from taking the books from your arms as you traversed through the library. Though he had taken the first few, when he began to reach for the little pile you had accumulated in your arms to add to his own, you had shuffled away from him with a little huff, saying “you have quite enough load as it is, Ser Criston. I may have been…” you hesitated before choosing your next word, “unwell for the past few days, but I am no invalid, and am perfectly capable of doing my own hefting.” And at that you had hefted the pile a little higher into your arms, and he could see them trembling a little as you hurried your step a little to reach one of the tables. 

“My apologies, Princess,” he had answered with the hint of a teasing smile, and you had beamed up at him as if that little show of emotion was everything you had wanted and more. 

“Unnecessary and therefore unaccepted,” you had quipped before turning your back on him and dropping the books onto the table. 

As he thought about it on his walk to the queen’s sitting rooms, he had to swallow down a chuckle that threatened to break out at the memory. Though most of the time he had spent guarding your rooms was uneventful, those few hours were joyful and distracting. Even as you had sat at the little table, forearms leaned against the edge, it had been satisfying to simply watch you scour the pages, your lips moving as you read the words. A sudden request for you to read aloud to him had even entered his thoughts at one point, if only to hear your soft voice a little more, and he had needed to clear his throat at the intrusion upon his mind. You had glanced up at that, eyes wide and asking if he was alright without saying a word, and he had simply bowed his head so you would continue undisturbed. 

When he reached the doors to the queen’s rooms, he knocked three times. He was quickly told to enter in her quiet yet firm voice, and found her sitting at her writing desk as the toddler Helaena crawled about the floor near the fireplace with her maids while another cradled the baby Aemond. Alicent beckoned him to close the door and come closer, and he obliged quickly, coming to stand right beside her desk and leaning down a little so he could hear her clearly over the children’s babbling and the chatter of the nursemaids. 

“Ser Criston,” she began, heaving a breath out that made her shoulders drop a little and folding her hands one on top of the other on her desk. She smiled up at him as if content and a little weary. “You have been a loyal knight, and a comforting presence for me in my time at the Red Keep. Do not think I am dissatisfied with your service as I request of you what I am about to do so,” and she paused, pursing her lips for a moment and looking at her two children before turning back to him. “I would like for you to change your posting to be sworn guard of Princess Y/n. I trust you will find a worthy replacement for yourself at my side and will not question whomever you choose.” She paused again, eyes pensive and mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of ways to explain her thoughts. She closed her eyes, no more than a long blink, then sighed long and low. “I have feared for her since the day of her betrothal, and I fear still that the toll of her marriage is becoming too much to bear. But the princess is self effacing, and would never dare to burden another with any of her worries or woes. I simply wish for you to be the loyal knight to her as you have been to me, and if you see a change in her spirits, or any… behaviours displayed by her husband that may be a cause of concern for her, come to me with these observations and I shall do my best to aid her with the hand she has been dealt.” She smiled up at Criston as if to say ‘you understand, don’t you?’ and he nodded, glancing about her desk as if he was already thinking about everything she had said. “Good,” Alicent finished simply and dismissed him with a wave of her hand telling him to start as soon as possible. And with that, he went to find Ser Arryk and realight upon his duties at your side. 

You were usually quick to be ready for dinner on time, never wanting to keep your husband waiting lest it harden his heart to you anymore than it already was, but at your first dinner returning to his company since your discovery, you took your time. Until the last second you toyed with the option of simply not attending, saying though you had felt better during the day, the bout of wellness had ended and you needed to take to your bed once more. Even sitting at the vanity as your maids redid your hair and applied rouge to your lips and cheeks, your bed seemed to call to you, a siren song begging you to return to your self-imposed conferment and spend the rest of your days hidden away. But you could not. 

When you were ready to leave, you were surprised to find Ser Criston Cole returned to his post. He had informed you of the change of guard before he left, but you had believed he would be gone for a whole shift before returning (or not returning at all). He nodded to you as you walked out, and you paused just in front of him with a surprised smile. 

“Ser Criston! You told me Ser Arryk would be returning as my guard for the evening!” He nodded sheepishly, looking away for a moment, and you almost caught a little smile brewing at his lips before his face returned to its natural stoicness. 

“The queen has decreed that my oath of service to her be transferred to you, your highness,” and the way he said it was so simple, a man following an order. 

“The queen?” You asked, frowning a little in confusion. 

“Yes. I hope you are not put-off by it, your highness. If you wish to choose your own King’s Guard or have Ser Arryk return to his duties, I will speak with the queen myself on your behalf.” He seemed eager not to upset you, brown eyes widening a little in earnestness as he spoke, and you smiled, waving off his concern. 

“No, no, Ser Criston, nothing like that. You have served Alicent well in your time with her and if she trusts you, then I do so as well. I simply wonder if she has done this out of some misplaced concern about my wellbeing,” but the way you said it was warm, as if you appreciated that she had done it nonetheless. 

“I could not say,” he replied quietly, but the way he looked to the ground made you believe he was holding something back. You decided not to question it. 

“Well, off we go, Ser Criston. I believe I am late to dinner with my husband,” your joviality was forced, he could see it in your distracted eyes and the tight smile you tried oh so hard to keep up. Your back was rigid rather than the naturally straight posture you usually kept from years of training, and your clasped hands in front of you were fidgeting with the rings upon your fingers. 

He could see the wedding band you had been given, a band of gold around a big fat ruby. It screamed more of your husband’s tastes than your own, gaudy compared to the delicate jewellery you had worn during the day.

 He thought it rather funny that you wore a ring on the same finger of your opposite hand, this one more simple, a thin band of silver inlaid with tiny sapphires all around. The blue was bright against your skin and your dress, and though it seemed often polished, it looked a little worn and old. He wished to ask you about it, but simply bit his tongue and followed you to the next wing in which the dining room you and Daemon used resided. Once more he noted how odd it was that husband and wife ate dinner together but not ever in their own chambers. 

He stopped outside the doors, turning his back on them and subsequently facing you, and he noted the way you were stopped just in front of them. You were staring ahead of you fearfully, as if whatever lay behind that door was the greatest enemy of all, the thing you feared most in the world, and you seemed to revert to the little girl you had once been, hands shaking and lower lip twitching as if you were about to cry. The urge to comfort you as one would a child raised in him, and he gazed upon you with a pitiful, dog-like sadness. He cleared his throat. 

“Your highness, admonish me if I break any code of impropriety,” he began quietly, not looking right at you but somewhere just above your head. “But if you do not wish to dine with your husband, I can carry in the message for you and escort you back to your chambers at once.” 

You turned to look at Criston, into his eyes that had softened much since you had first met and the little crinkle just above his brow. You smiled, albeit it being thin and watery as you suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to cry, but you shook your head. You wiped at your under eyes until you felt that your tears had dissipated and took deep breaths until your lips no longer shook and the lump in your throat had been swallowed down. 

“No,” you shook your head, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them and shaking your head again. “No, that will not be necessary.” But you smiled at him in thanks, and reached out to gently touch the forearm he held over his stomach. Though you only touched metal, your fingertips tingled and you felt like your septa would come running in to scold you for touching a man who was not your husband. Nothing happened, and you simply curled your fingers inward and brought the fist to your side. Criston watched you like you were created anew before him. And then you opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you swiftly, and leaving him to the silence of the hallway, and the crackling of fire in the sconce directly ahead of him. 

For the first time you entered the room when Daemon was already seated at the table. He looked back as the doors opened and found you striding in with your head held high, more confident than he had ever seen you before, and he raised an eyebrow at the spectacle. Your lips were pursed tightly, and your eyes were wary, but he couldn’t see it. You walked all the way to the table and sat down swiftly across from him, folding your hands in your lap and only looking so far as your own plate. He hmphed, twisting back to sit properly in his seat and resting his elbows on the table as he watched you. You glanced up, and when you noticed his eyes on you, you seemed to wilt a little like a leaf being boiled in front of him. 

“It seems you have recovered, niece,” and after a moment, you nodded. He never called you wife, you realised. No endearing name like dearest or ‘my heart’. It was always either your name or ‘niece’. 

“Yes,” you answered, and then the servants were bringing the dishes to the table and you two remained silent until they had returned to their spots against the walls. 

Daemon felt a little startled as he poked at the chicken on his plate. It was so… quiet. Usually by this point in the evening he would have been briefed only on the contents of your morning, and though he often lost himself in his thoughts or simply didn’t pay attention, the chatter in the background had become surprisingly… soothing. He looked up at you, but you were simply swirling your soup around and around with your spoon. The silence was grating. He clenched his jaw and put his knife and fork down onto the plate with a little ‘clink’ sound. 

“Was that Crispin’s voice I heard at the door?” He asked a little tersely, and your eyes were wide as they shot up to him. Wide and almost fearful, he would think. “He stood guard at your door while you were sick, you know? Has Alicent finally tired of her dog?” 

“I-” you gulped, glancing all over the table but never at him. You looked anguished, pained, and he wondered if whatever had kept you sick in your bed had not fully left you. “It’s Criston.” 

He looked at you, blinking a little quicker, mouth a little open. Your voice had been small, like the voice children used to wake their parents from their beds, and he couldn’t quite believe you had said what you said. 

“Come again?” And he put his hand to his ear, leaning in and squinting his eyes exaggeratedly, all a show for his heart had begun to pound a little in his chest. 

“His name is Criston. Ser Criston Cole,” you answered, and he clenched his jaw so hard it throbbed for a moment after he released it. You still refused to look at him, and it was beginning to irritate him to the ends of the earth. Though you had not been a particular fan of eye contact before, whenever you had spoken to him at the wedding, at the dinners that followed, you had always looked up at him with big eyes and a tentative little smile. Always looking for his approval. He simply hummed and leaned back to continue eating. 

The dinner was entirely silent after that, and though you left feeling relieved and a little stronger, Daemon was left unsatisfied, something suddenly unsettled in his chest as he watched you breeze out of the door in your fluttering gown without a look back. 

Two weeks on from that day, and you had established a new routine. You would spend the morning hours as you had done before, ensuring everything in your husband’s personal life was perfect, from newly ordered bedsheets and the restuffing of his pillows, to ordering only his favourite cuts of meat and ensuring the squires polished his armour regularly. Perhaps it was out of habit, perhaps out of social convention that you had never once flouted, or simply because despite your anguish when you even thought of him, you may never stop pursuing the need for your husband’s love and approval, but you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it. 

These hours were usually rather hazy in your memory, a series of yes’s and a grey melancholic sheen over your eyes, but after a slow and lazy lunch (usually in Alicent’s company) you always felt better for the latter half of your day. 

You did what you had once done before your marriage, carrying a book or your latest embroidery project in your arms and meandering through the courtyards until you found one devoid of people (or at least devoid of a crowd) and settling down under the shade of a tree. Since your marriage you had found the company of your ‘friends’ grating. Some found pleasure only in the love of their husbands, speaking on and on about the gifts of jewellery and flowers and the showers of attention they received while you simmered in jealousy and an overwhelming feeling of failure. Others found pleasure in telling racy stories of their escapades in the bedchamber(often not with their husbands) and here you too were jealous or simply lost. They described feelings and sensations you had only ever known in hints, desires you didn’t know one could desire, actions of those desires you didn’t think were possible. 

Soon you felt so estranged from them all, so alone in your circumstance, that you simply avoided the gatherings. Though you did sometimes miss the camaraderie of the ladies, the easy laughter and womanly loyalty, you found that it wasn’t such a devastating loss. Especially when you found such a thoughtful companion in Ser Criston Cole. 

He was as stoic as many a knight of the King’s Guard, but you found a certain kinship in his silence and soft looks. He seemed to understand the sadness that seemed to tinge even your happiest moods. He never questioned the sudden onslaught of tears that sometimes attacked you during the day, only offering a handkerchief if you began looking around desperately for one. Nor did he question why you avoided the wing in which Rhaenyra and her soon to be growing family lived, even if it was at your own expense. Or why at even the barest hint of Rhaenyra’s voice you turned and almost ran in the other direction. Though he often only spoke when he was spoken to and usually chose the least verbal answer, his consistent presence and vigilant watch over you was comfortable. It may be only a job for him, but to always have someone watching over your safety and comfort felt… frankly, amazing. 

“Ser Criston?” You looked up at him from your place nestled between the thick roots of an old oak tree in the western-most courtyard of the keep. 

It was one of the colder days of the summer though the sun was shining brightly. A brisk breeze had picked up over the evening before and rarely settled. You were dressed in your Targaryen colours, a black dress with red accents, and if it hadn’t been for the bright pops of colour he would think you had donned your mourning shroud. 

Your hair had been left undone for the day, and you seemed to enjoy the freedom of letting it fly around you untamed. It made you look younger, wilder, and Criston found it an enjoyable sight. You seemed a little bleary after your lunch and laid your head back against the trunk of the tree as you read. You had tried to convince Criston to sit down multiple times and though he refused each time, you chose not to comment about the way he sometimes leaned subtly against the trunk of the tree. 

“Yes, Princess?” He answered, tilting his head down to look at you. You smiled, you derived a secret kind of pleasure when he addressed you so. 

“Would you enjoy this more if I read aloud to you? I fear you must find these afternoons rather dull.” Your smile was almost teasing, and you were successful in eliciting a little smile in return. 

“Do not trouble yourself on my account, Princess,” his voice was soft and he looked away from you to smile at the floor. Your entire body suddenly felt warm and almost giddy. 

“It would be no trouble, I am already reading after all. I simply hope to ensure you do not find my company exceptionally boring,” you said it with a little laugh, bringing your hand up to your mouth as you giggled, and you couldn’t be sure if the sound you heard was actually the little huffing chuckle you believed it to be. When you looked back up at him, his eyes seemed to shine and you wanted to push your face so close to his that those eyes were all you saw. You cleared your throat and averted your gaze as the tips of your ears began burning. 

It was quiet for a few moments, only the rustle of the leaves and the soft sounds of your breathing as you lay your head back against the tree and closed your eyes.  

“I enjoy your company,” it was soft, low, barely audible, but you heard it and your entire body tensed. You refused to open your eyes for a moment, wanting to sit in the words, in the pleasant feeling of being liked, of being enjoyed. When you did open your eyes again and look at him, he had already trained his gaze somewhere across the yard. You cleared your throat and began to read aloud. 

Since your wedding, your husband came to visit your bedchambers once every fortnight. He would knock quietly on the door at the hour of the bat, when the moon was highest in the sky, and enter before you could say anything. Upon the sight of him, you would usually begin walking toward the bed, climbing over the covers to situate yourself in the middle. There were very few candles lit at that hour, and everything was shrouded in a soft secretive light. 

He would be quick to follow you onto the bed, simply undoing the laces on his trousers and slipping them down a little so his cock could bob out. There was never any need for either of you to get undressed further than this. 

Usually he would have you on your hands and knees, a pillow shoved under your hips and another below your head so you could rest the side of your face against it. It was carnal, and unfeeling, how you imagined animals coupled in the wild. You often felt a little sick afterward, like for a moment your body had not been your own, and you would wait to move from the bed until you heard the door close behind him. It was different this time. 

Your spirits were lifted after an enjoyable afternoon reading to Criston and though you continued to stay silent at your dinners with Daemon, you were too lost in your own thoughts to feel tense and skittish. You allowed yourself to be lost in the memories, to imagine the breeze blowing over your skin again and pretend you could hear the leaves rustling above your head once more. 

Daemon had tried to initiate a conversation a few times over the weeks since your silence began, but you answered sparingly, either humming a response or shrugging or simply nodding. He had again attempted this night, but you hadn’t even bothered to answer any of his inquiries, staring off into space as you slowly chewed on your piece of chicken, an odd show of rudeness from you. He had simply taken to watching you instead. 

You were dressed like a true Targaryen princess, a bright red dress like you had bathed in blood. The sleeves weren’t really sleeves for they were cut down the middle and hung from your shoulders at your sides and your arms were bare despite the cold day. Your hair had been threaded into one large braid and you wore gold jewellery, delicate ruby drop earrings to match your dress and wedding ring. Your mother’s ring, the one gift she had left you days before her death clashed with the rest of your clothes but he had never once seen you without it. 

Daemon was not often surprised with himself, but as he looked upon your face he felt he had never seen it before. He traced the slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the set of your brow bone and the flesh of your cheeks with his eyes. The curve of your eyelashes, the shape of your cupid’s bow, the slant of your eyebrows, was all new to him. You looked exactly the same as on the day of your wedding, but he felt he had not seen his wife before. And an even greater mystery, something random and unexplainable, was the sudden desire to know her. 

When you finished your meal and were about to leave, he stood with you and began following you out. Upon realisation, you paused just before the door and turned to look at him. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, but when you didn’t continue on your way and simply kept staring up at him in confusion he sighed and walked to stand just in front of you. 

“I shall accompany you to your chambers this evening, wife,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him, “to share some wine and… converse.” It sounded almost painful coming out of his mouth, as if he was uncertain and disguising it with a false bravado. But you could see the way he glanced away from you and to the corners of the room, the way his hands fidgeted a little with each other and how his body looked like it was desperate to march out of the room but his entire willpower was devoted to keeping him standing exactly where he was. 

“Alright,” you whispered, and a blush filled your cheeks like hot water being poured into a mug. Surely sharing a cup of wine was a euphemism. You twisted the fabric of your sleeves into your hands as you walked half a stride behind Daemon. 

All of Criston’s training had to be used when Daemon came walking out of the room shortly followed by you. He had endured the look of disgust that overcame Daemon’s features as he laid eyes upon him, then felt his heart melt at the little smile you offered. More and more he felt himself fall victim to your charms and each passing day had the feeling of a march closer and closer to heartbreak. 

He had begun to follow you, as was his duty, but when Daemon heard his heavy-booted footsteps, he paused and turned around with a fake smile of kindness and a very real look of triumph in his eyes. 

“You may leave us, Crispin, I am experienced enough in combat to protect my wife,” and for a moment Criston thought Daemon would try and wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Take a break, visit a brothel.” Criston couldn’t control the grimace that moved his lips. You were looking at the wall, hands twisting and twisting in the fabric, and he watched you with the sudden overwhelming need to take your hands gently in his and kiss each of your fingers until your hands relaxed. 

“Would you like me to relieve my duty for the evening, Princess?” He asked quietly, as if only your voice mattered, and not once had he looked up at Daemon since your uncle spoke. You smiled, equal parts joyful and thankful, and looked up into his eyes. 

“It is alright, Ser Criston, you deserve some time devoted to yourself. But when I next open my door in the morning, I expect to see you there,” the order in your voice was so joking and pathetic, the fake frown on your face shining with mirth; he half expected you to wag your finger at him. He smiled, not for the first time resisting the urge to reach forward and press loving kisses to the backs of your hands, and bid you goodbye with a bow before walking off in the other direction. 

You stood there for a moment, watching him walk away, when Daemon cleared his throat behind you. You turned around and gazed up at him through your lashes. Every ounce of irritation Damon had felt a moment ago seemed to suddenly become secondary. He held out his hand to you, and you simply stared at it. You could see the calluses on his fingers from where he gripped his sword. He wiggled his fingers, watching you with raised eyebrows as if you were going dumb before his eyes. Slowly, with a hand that twitched like a skittish deer, you settled your hand into his. 

He looked down at it and felt his chest bloom with warmth at how small your fingers were against his, how gentle they looked against his palm. He wrapped up your hand in his own and gripped it firmly, not tight enough to hurt but you would have to tug against it if you wanted to get away. Your fingers became warm and a tingle went up your arm. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling. 

He led you all the way back to your chambers and even held the door open for you. He didn’t let go of your hand as you passed him, instead following quickly after you and closing the door quickly behind him. It made a loud sound as it closed, not a slam but the sound of wood hitting wood a little hurriedly, and you jumped, trying to tug your hand out of his. He didn’t let it go, simply shushed you a little and led you to the little seating area by the fireplace. He settled you into a chair and, finally letting go of your hand, went to the side table that had a jug of wine ready on it. You turned in your seat and watched as he poured two cups and brought them back to you. He smirked a little when he noticed you but didn’t say anything. He sat in the chair next to yours with a little huff and sipped from his glass. You simply held yours in your hands and looked into it. 

“Will you not say anything at all to me this evening, wife?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if he was teasing or there was a harsh edge to his voice. 

“What would you like me to say?” You asked quietly, not moving your eyes from the cup of wine but watching him through your periphery. He paused at that, eyes trained on you in the way you imagined he faced a problem on the battlefield. 

��Hm, that is a rather good question,” and he smirked as he took another big gulp from his cup. He drained it right after, and you watched him get up and refill it. You hadn’t touched anything more than the cup the wine was in. You turned to watch him again. 

Daemon stood at the table with the jug of wine and stared at it. Then, slowly, he put his own cup down and spun on his heel. He walked back over to you, eyes on your face, and your breath caught in your throat. He was not walking quickly, but not slowly either, and it felt like a lifetime before he found his way to you. He gripped where your head met your neck and used his thumb to lift your head until you were craning it up to him. Then he bent at the waist and pressed his mouth to yours like he was sipping wine right from the centre of the barrel. 

You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, and the fear of tipping over the cup of wine made you grip it until your fingertips turned white. Your eyes stayed open, but you couldn’t see anything more than a skin-coloured. Your mouth had opened a little in a silent gasp when he had first kissed you, and he used his lips to open it further, to plunge his tongue into your mouth and taste you. He tasted of wine and the slight sourness of alcohol, and you remembered how much you’ve always disliked the drink. 

It was an odd sensation that brewed within you as he kissed you and tried to coax your response. It was something you had wanted for so long, a simple act that should have been common between man and wife that you had been denied as long as you had been able to call yourself a wife. And now that you had it, you had it so freely given and initiated by the husband who hadn’t desired you, an uncomfortable mix of triumph and repulsion, glee and disgust made your stomach churn. You found that you no longer wanted the kiss he so freely offered and it made you want to cry with disappointment. 

He pulled away, not far so you could feel his heavy breaths against your lips and his eyes blurred together in a hazel slash. He simply watched you, gaze switching between your eyes, and for a moment he looked dissatisfied. Was it you that caused it in him, or was it his inability to see what he wished for? He moved his hand down a little from the base of your skull to the back of your neck and caressed his thumb along the front of your throat. The thought that he could simply press inward and strangle you flashed in your head. 

Daemon leaned down again and as you closed your eyes in preparation, he used his other hand to pluck the cup of wine from your grip and deposit it on the table. You watched the wine slosh almost to the edge but swing back the other way before it could spill. He used the same hand to grasp your arm and urge you to stand. You did without struggle. The hand on the back of your neck was uncomfortably warm and the callus on his index finger was rough against your cheek as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face. 

“Come to bed,” he whispered, and you nodded, allowing him to lead you to the edge of the four-poster. He turned you around and began undoing your braid until your hair fell in waves down your back. He caressed it, soft and reverent, before undoing the back of your dress and slipping it over your shoulders. The top fell down to your waist and he pushed it over your hips until it was in a heap at your feet. He kissed along your bare shoulders, first on the left then on the right, and smiled against the skin when you shivered. His hands moved up and down your arms, warming you up, and goosebumps pimpled on your skin. He pushed the straps of your shift down your arms, and you let him. The crumpled fabric slipped easier over your skin and joined the pile on your feet. 

Everything was hazy in the world, like smoke had filled the room and you could feel it only slightly against the back of your throat. You were not you, and the room was not your room, but some ethereal version of each thing. Nothing of consequence would occur in these moments. 

He turned you around then, and gently cupped both your breasts in his hands. He caressed them, ran the pads of his thumbs over your nipples as they hardened in the cold air, held their weight in his hands and felt the hot underside of your breasts. Your breath was shallow, chest quivering, and he bent down to kiss each breast, hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses that made you gulp with a dry mouth and throat. He licked each nipple, bit each one, and when your hand came up to grip his arm as you swayed a little, he pulled away. 

“Sit and lay back,” he ordered, gripping your hips and guiding you backward until your thighs hit the bed and you were sat on the edge. He reached up and pushed your shoulders down until you were flat on your back with your legs hanging over, toes just barely brushing the cold floor. You felt like the dolls you had once played with, stiff and inanimate, moved only at the will of others. 

Daemon was quick to rid himself of his clothes. His jacket was already crumpled on the floor and his shirt was thrown through the air to land somewhere on the stone floor past your bed. The laces on his pants were undone so quickly you thought he might rip them right off, but he simply loosened them until he could push them and his underthings off. 

Daemon got on his knees between your legs and carefully raised them so your knees bent over his shoulders and your calves rested against his back. He pulled you forward a little more and gazed at the space between your legs. Your skin was tinged yellow from the candlelight and he had never thought a woman more beautiful than in that moment. He moved his hands up your thighs and rested both flat on your stomach. He pressed his face to your core, licking over your lips and between the seam until the taste of you was imprinted on his tongue and your slick was smeared over his mouth and pushed its way down to his chin. 

You lay back with your eyes clenched shut and your mouth open, chest heaving as you panted like a dog. Your hands were twisted in the sheets and the skin on your chest had gone red. Your mind was somehow rooted in your body yet floating away at the same time. You existed in every cell, every sensation, the feeling of his wet tongue against that little spot right at the top that made fire erupt in your stomach made you moan louder than you ever had. You hadn’t even known you were capable of moaning. 

Daemon lapped against you like a dog licking up a treat, wide and wet and rough against the inflamed little nub that twitched with your heartbeat. He felt you cum on his tongue, felt the quiver of your stomach against his hands, the way you curled upwards a little. He tasted it, the sudden increase of slick against his lips. He seemed to drink your entire being as he kneeled between your legs. 

You looked down as he pressed his cheek to your inner thigh. His face was warm against where he lay it down and you could feel his heavy breaths over your core, like gentle fingers brushing over the sensitive skin. He met your eyes, his dark and looking black in the dim light. For a moment you wanted to get up and run. It was not your uncle but a demon between your legs, sent to the world by the old gods to devour you. You pushed up, suddenly scared, but he was quick to slither up your body and press his mouth to yours, press his tongue to yours, fill you with the light sticky taste of your core. You heaved against his mouth and one of your hands came up to clutch his shoulder. He took it as encouragement. 

Daemon lay his weight over you and stared into your eyes. You could feel his hand at the apex of your thighs, haphazardly grabbing his cock and bumping the tip against you until he found your entrance. You held your breath, the pressure in your chest steadily increasing, and waited for the inevitable sting and drag. It hurt less for the first time, more like tiny concentrated bolts of lightning zipping along the flesh inside you, and you huffed out a breathy sound, both hands clutching at his arms as he pushed into you. 

Each time Daemon bedded you, he always made this expression, this look of pain and pleasure that had his eyebrows scrunching together and his mouth opening as he closed his eyes. This time he kept his eyes open, as much as he could anyway, and looked straight at you as his hips met yours. Your spine felt fluid, like it no longer existed and therefore you were incapable of movement. 

“Tighter than a virgin,” he huffed out, and you clenched around him which only made him rock his hips. You weren’t sure if you liked his words or not, a little grimace on your face. You began to close your eyes as his hips began to slowly rock into you, gulping as you panted, but he gripped your chin tightly in his hand. “No, keep looking at me,” and so you did. 

It was painful to look into his eyes as he pushed into you. You felt the pleasure shooting from your core, the natural tightening of your thighs around his hips, but an equally painful internal turmoil mingled with it. You looked into the blackness of his blown-wide pupils and saw the darkness of the hallway in which he had stood kissing Rhaenyra. In his grip on your chin you imagined how Rhaenyra felt when he had gently tipped her chin up to press his lips to hers reverently. You wondered if she knew the weight of him on top of her exactly the way you knew it now. 

Daemon leaned down and broke eye contact to press his face into your neck, to smell your skin and sweat. He panted against you, eyes closed in the blackness of the little space around his face and he pushed his hips in and out faster despite how much he wanted to keep everything slow. He wanted to feel you, to know you as intimately as a man and wife should know one another. He knew nothing else but this. You whimpered a little into the air, like a bird falling from a branch, and he wrapped you up a little tighter in his arms. 

The coupling was quick. You found it easy to fall over the cusp after the time he spent on you with his tongue, and he seemed eager to follow soon after. When he finished, he lay himself on top of you for a little while, breathing heavily and allowing the sweat on your bodies to dry a little. You felt suffocated. You wanted him off. But you said nothing. 

Eventually, Daemon rolled off of you and used the edge of the sheets to wipe himself off. Then he clambered onto the bed and lay across it properly, sheets at his waist and head settling into the pillow. Your limbs were stiff as you got up, and your core felt sore. You settled your weight on precarious legs, and made your way to your little private area behind the divider. A bowl of water was set on a little table and you dipped a washing rag into it before slowly cleaning the seed from your legs. You were careful, and your fingers were soft against the tender flesh between your legs, but you only stopped when every crevice felt clean. Perhaps this was the reason you weren’t getting pregnant, you thought, but you couldn’t stop. 

Your nightgown was hanging over the divider and you quietly pulled it on, settling the fabric around you before slowly making your way back to the bed and getting onto your side. Daemon watched you curl your knees to your chest and sit against the pillows, only allowing the sheets to cover your feet. You rested your chin against your legs and let out slow breaths. He couldn’t see your face properly because of your hair falling forward but he was desperate to. He reached out and gently pushed some of it back. Your eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell what you were thinking about. He simply sighed and reached out to rest his arm over your feet before closing his eyes. 

The only candle that had been left burning was on the little table beside your bed, and it watched you sit there for an hour. When you had felt Daemon’s breathing slow down, you had opened your eyes and watched the door. When you were sure he was asleep, you gently slid your feet out from under his arm and crept over the edge of the bed. You didn’t put on slippers and stood for a minute to shiver as the cold from the floor seeped into your toes and heels. Then you crept to the divider again and gently brought down your robe from the corner and slipped your arms into the sleeves before tying it at the waist. You looked back to see if Daemon was sleeping only once, then walked to the door. You opened it so slowly the wood made not a hint of sound, and when you were finally outside you let out a deep breath. 

You weren’t quite sure why you had come outside in the first place, but you felt a little better. You turned to the right and there stood Ser Criston against the wall just beside your door, watching you in the dim light. You watched him in return, the hair that curled a little inward at the nape of his neck and the pink tint of his lips. The sudden urge to cry overwhelmed you and you rushed toward him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you sobbed against his chest. 

Criston wrapped you up as much as he could with his armour still on, but he pressed his cheek down onto your head and shushed you as you cried. Your sobs were soft and muffled, your tears smearing on his armour and your cheeks as you hiccuped in his arms. He smoothed a hand over your hair, down your back, then cupped it around your waist. 

When your sobs began to quiet a little, your hiccups not as frequent, you pulled away quickly and stood against the wall across the hall, curling in on yourself as you used the edges of your nightgown to wipe at your eyes. Only your laboured breathing filled the hall, and the creak of his armour as he stood to attention again. You waited until you felt like you could open your mouth again without dissolving into sobs and turned to him with splotchy cheeks, a shiny nose, and red eyes that made you look like a little girl again. 

“I am sorry, that was inappropriate of me,” you whispered, and your voice was gritty and painful. He simply shook his head, pursing his lips for a moment before looking away from you and into the fire of the sconce directly in front of the door to your chambers.

“Nothing happened, Princess,” and you smiled a little, huffing out something akin to a laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

You pulled the sleeves of your nightgown and robe so they covered your hands, then pressed one of your fists to your lips and nose as you leaned back against the wall directly opposite to Criston. Your other hand came around to grasp your elbow and support it against your stomach, and you looked into Criston’s eyes. They were the colour of the bark of oak trees, the darkest honey, the sweetest chocolate from Dorne. 

“I don’t like my husband,” you whispered, and it felt criminal to voice the opinion out loud. You looked around a little, as if he would suddenly be standing at the door, ready to punish you for it, but nothing happened except Criston huffing out a laugh. You smiled at the sound, a warm, gruff, sort of sound. 

“Truth be told, I do not like your husband either,” and you giggled at that, pressing the smile into your fist. 

“I-” you paused, averting your eyes to the floor. “I like you though.” You glanced up to see his reaction, but he was looking at the wall ahead of him, and his face didn’t change. 

“I’m not sure that is a wise decision, Princess,” he said simply, as if he was reading it off a paper, and you laughed, thinking he was joking, being sarcastic or self-deprecating, but when he didn’t join in your laughter you stopped. Your cheeks burned and you were overwhelmed with embarrassment. 

“I did not mean-” you cut yourself off, biting your lip until it hurt and then biting it a little more. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he shook his head, frowning, looking down to the floor. 

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Princess, I simply meant that I am a knight of the Kingsguard and-” 

“Ser Criston, I know, I would never put you in a position to even question your oath let alone any imagining of you sullying it!” Your voice elevated a little in your hurry as you held out your hands and looked at him with wide eyes. He turned his gaze on you, some inexplicable expression on his face, and you blushed again, curling your hands against your chest and leaning against the wall once more. You trained your gaze on his feet. “I enjoy your company, and I respect you.” You watched him shuffle his feet a little. You were both quiet for a little while, letting the silence cover you like a soft blanket. 

Criston’s hands tingled with the need to reach out and caress your face, his heart strained against his chest with the need to meet your own, to press your two bodies together and press your mouth to his and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe anymore and then keep kissing you. 

You let your gaze trail all over his body, to the muscular shoulders hidden behind armour and the white cloak hanging from them. His neck seemed soft and blurred compared to the rest of him, and you wanted to reach up and caress the light dusting of a beard on his chin and cheeks. You wondered how coarse the hairs were. You wanted to kiss his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You wanted to know what the skin felt like under your lips. 

“If it was a different world…” he trailed off, but you knew what was to come next regardless of him saying it or not. 

“I know,” you whispered quietly, taking a deep, shuddering, breath in and wrapping the robe tighter around you and following it with your arms. 

“I know,” he repeated back to you. You were both quiet again but the air felt a little heavier. You swallowed and closed your eyes.  

“I would love to kiss you, right at this moment,” you whispered, eyes reopening slowly to look at him. His eyes were on the ground but his lips were parted just slightly. His breath was shallow and his hands clenched into fists at his side slowly. You felt like you were watching everything he did a second after it happened. 

“I would love it if you kissed me, right at this moment,” his voice was low, gravelly, and you took a little step closer, a shuffle. 

You wanted to reach out and touch his stomach, feel the muscles beneath the shirt. You wanted to touch his shoulders, feel them tense then release as you ran your fingers up them. You wanted to caress his neck and gently press your fingertips to his cheeks to see how plush they were.

 Instead, you slowly made your way toward your chamber doors. When your shoulder was level with his, you looked at each other. His smile was so soft and warm, so kind and gentle, that you felt the tears begin to climb up behind your eyes. You looked back to your chamber doors and opened them just as quietly as you had done before, slipping inside and closing it behind you. You looked around the room for a moment, unseeing, then walked all the way back to your side of the bed. You blew out the remaining candle and got under the sheets right on the edge so not even Daemon’s outstretched hand could touch you.  

You and Ser Criston never spoke of that evening again. But sometimes, when everything was quiet and you were alone, you would look into his eyes, and know. 

After the night he kissed you for the first time since the wedding, Daemon suddenly felt like his entire life was off-kilter. He could not escape thoughts of you. He could not escape memories of you. 

At first he found himself sitting at the edge of the training pit, watching the gold cloaks spar as he awaited his turn, and all he could think of was the image of you in your wedding dress right after he had kissed you, blushing cheeks and cut lip smeared with spit and the mix of his blood and yours. As he took his midday meal in Rhaenyra’s solar across the table from her, he saw your frown as you told him you were still a maiden. As he flew on Caraxes on a hot afternoon, he saw the relief in your eyes as you lifted the strap of your shift back onto your shoulder. 

He began to wonder about you, about your days and nights, about what books you enjoyed or the temperament of your dragon. Each day brought new questions about you that he pushed away because they were unnecessary and only served to drive him mad. 

He noticed himself noticing you. His ears would perk up if he heard your voice somewhere in the distance, and something in his chest would jump a little. Your perfume lingered in the library after your visits, and if he happened to visit at just the right time, traces of it would gently touch his nose and his stomach would suddenly feel warm. Each time he entered your room for your fortnightly fucking, he found himself dallying longer and longer before and after, simply to gaze at your belongings and learn about you. 

Slowly, it became an irrepressible infatuation. He would watch you from the terraces and balconies around the Red Keep as you sat in the various courtyards, admiring your hair and your dress, jealous of the sun for being able to touch you so reverently in a way he never could.  He would dab your perfume on his handkerchief and keep it securely tucked in his pocket, pulling it out and pressing it to his nose in the quiet of his room on the other side of the Keep. He had even had one of the tapestries you had done removed from the halls of the Keep and hung on the wall across from his bed. He was lost in you. 

In this new daze, he had abandoned his trysts with Rhaenyra and had been shocked to find he did not care when she took a new lover. She had asked after his sudden disinterest, why he no longer visited her in the evenings or ate his lunch in her company. He hadn’t had an answer ready to give. 

In this time, he had also grown aware of Criston Cole’s infatuation with you. He had already thought it odd that the knight had abandoned being the Queen’s lapdog for the forgotten princess, but he had assumed that Alicent had ordered him to and was simply enacting another of her many schemes. He had even scoffed at the idea, laughing to himself that Alicent would gain nothing over him for he was only a husband in name. 

But after all the time he spent watching you, he could see how truly devoted to you the knight had become. He stood as close to you as was appropriate for a knight and not an inch farther. He held your projects or piles of books as he walked beside you, refusing you from taking any load from his arms. If you ever had a request, he forced whichever servant was closest to complete it in an instant so he could fulfil it without leaving your company. 

And he was always looking at you. Sometimes when Daemon watched you in the courtyard with Cole, the knight never removed his eyes from you for a second. You would turn your face up to smile at him and he would already be looking at you. You would return to the book and his eyes would still be on your face. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he was looking at you, though, it was the way the knight watched you. He always had this warm little expression on his face, his eyes a little wide and shiny and full of awe. His mouth was always gentler in those moments, lips softened and hinting at a smile. He seemed entirely at peace in your presence. 

And as Daemon watched you more and more, he realised the knight’s infatuation with you was returned. You were chatty around him, spilling your thoughts or asking him questions. You read aloud to him, made him little gifts of handkerchiefs or embellishments on his cloak that he always refused at first before relenting when you claimed you would be thoroughly upset if he continued to deny you. Your embroidery featured motifs of white knights more and more and you smiled at Criston in a way he wasn’t sure you had ever smiled at anyone else. It made him angry. Angry in a way that could only be soothed by hacking at a straw dummy in the training yard with Dark Sister until the thing had to be replaced. 

When Daemon found you, you were sitting at your writing desk with a parchment in front of you, quill raised as you bit your lip and formed the words in your head. His chest was heaving despite him not having run. The sunshine falling over the desk from the window behind you made you look like a spirit from the stories, all your edges glowing and a shadowy haziness draping your face. He walked right up to the desk, cupped your face in both his hands and kissed you on the mouth.

 It was firm, insistent, his mouth moving and pressing yours open while your mind tried to catch up with the sudden events, your quill dripping ink onto the table where you still had your hand raised. You pulled away after a moment, a frown creasing your brow and lips parted for a moment. You licked them, pressing them together as you swallowed and turned back to face the desk. Your eyes roamed over the little trinkets as if they had not been there before. Then you turned to look at Daemon again. 

He was standing above you, dazed as he gently touched his thumb to his lower lip. He looked bedraggled. Some of his hair had been pulled back into little braids to keep it from his face, his battle hair, but some of it curled with his sweat and other strands had been pulled out as if he had forgotten about the braids and had begun pulling at his hair in frustration. He was only wearing his training tunic, and there were mud stains on his pants and you guessed he had come straight here from the training grounds. 

He was staring at you now, eyes blazing and you shuffled back a little in case he tried to kiss you again. Kissing him was nice, it had never not been at least somewhat pleasant, but you didn’t care for it anymore. He leaned down again but you closed your eyes and leaned back further, holding your hand over your lips. A frown slashed his brow and he gripped the back of your chair tightly. You feared it would crack under the pressure. 

“You would deny your husband?” He spat, and you flinched, curling a little inward as if a pang of pain had hit you in the chest. “Do you deny Cole when you are a whore for him?” And your eyes snapped up to look into his. He was seething, you could practically see the fires of rage behind his eyes. Your own began to fill with tears and he stood up again, taking a step back. His face fell a little as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. He could hear it shudder through your open mouth, saw the quiver of your chest. If you began to cry he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But then you pressed your lips together, so tight they went white, and opened your eyes. They were no longer filled with tears. You stood up, brushing down the skirt of your dress. You ensured it fell around your waist correctly before clasping your hands together over your stomach and finally looking up at him again. 

“I know you do not love me,” your voice was quiet but steady, and he opened his mouth to speak, to rebuke, but no sound came out. “It is alright,” and for the first time since that fateful day, you felt it truly was. Then your eyes hardened a little, almost imperceptibly. “You are not angry because you love me, or you feel denied by your wife. You are angry simply because you feel that something you possess may be eyed by another.” Then your eyes returned to their usual gentleness, your hands loosened against each other and your entire body seemed to release a little. “But do not worry, husband. Since I was a little girl it has been ingrained upon me that marriage is sacred. One must treat it with the utmost respect, cherish it, protect it with their own actions.” You held your hands to your heart like you were cupping the very notion of marriage against your breast. “I would never dream of defiling its sanctity.” You bowed your head and breezed out of the room before he could even attempt to open his mouth. 

For a long time after, Daemon wondered if you knew of his long ago trysts with Rhaenyra. Though you had not said the words with any sort of obvious insinuation or spite, fear and guilt churned in his gut until he had to sit down and press his palms to his eyes. All he could ask himself was ‘did you know?’, all he could feel was shame and regret. 

He didn’t want you to know. He wanted to take everything back, starting with your marriage. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and cherish you as you deserved. He wanted to spend his hours on his knees in supplication to you. He wanted to follow you around like a dog chasing its master if only you would glimpse at him with that little loving smile you reserved for so few people and press a gentle kiss to his face. He wanted your love. And somehow, he thought as he sat on the floor of his room, back leaning against the side of his bed, I have lost it before I even knew I wanted it. 

Daemon spent much of his life in the aftermath trying to win you back, and it somehow made everything worse. You were always the perfect image of a wife. If he brought you flowers, you thanked him gently, sincerely, then handed them off to a maid to have them put in water. If he brought you jewellery, you caressed it and put it on in that instant, asking him how it looked on you. He only ever had one answer, ‘radiant, my love,’ and you would smile at his reflection in the mirror before gently taking it off and putting it in your jewellery box. If he found fabrics from all corners of the world and had them brought to you for your dresses, you kissed his cheek in thanks, then asked the tailor to create something for you, never your own design. You wore them in front of him, showed him that his gifts were used, and once he had torn them off in his vigour to fuck you, you folded up the dresses and put them in the back of your wardrobe. 

When the gifts elicited nothing more than politeness, he began spending more time with you, hoping you would somehow see his devotion, see a reason to love him. He would find you just before you went to eat your midday meal with Alicent and instead guide you to a picnic in the Godswood. He would bring one of his many books on the Targaryen histories and settle himself down next to you in one of the courtyards. He would lay beside you in your bed after he finished inside you, cheek pressed into the pillow as he watched you until you fell asleep. 

Each attempt had entirely the opposite effect to his wishes. Though you never changed outwardly, never made him feel unwelcome or told him to leave, he could sense how much you preferred to be without his presence. 

And you never acknowledged Criston Cole in his presence. Whether from some deep seated propriety that refused to offend your husband or insult him in the company of others. Whether from some embarrassment that whatever feelings you held for the knight would be so easily displayed from simple conversation, he knew not. But it made everything even worse. 

You spoke not to Criston, which meant you didn’t speak to him either unless he tried to start a conversation. The silence would become suffocating to the point he would sweat through his clothes. You would be oblivious, sitting there humming or simply gazing upon your book or embroidery or letters. And he would be tortured watching you sit under the watchful eye of your knight, not saying a word. 

Each time he returned, he tried to outlast himself, outlast the silence. And each time he failed. It would be five minutes, ten minutes at most, before he stood up and walked out of the door without a goodbye, and somehow he knew that you didn’t bother looking up as he left. 

These little communions were often followed by an overwhelming sense of betrayal and embarrassment. With every failed attempt, every time he fled, he thought he could see Criston Cole’s smug smile. He thought the knight’s secret satisfaction in your favour of him suddenly became apparent on his face and in his gait, that the fool was mocking him for not being able to win his wife’s love while he held it freely in the palm of his hand. 

And then he found a slow decline into shame as he sat in the ruins of whatever furniture or ornaments he had destroyed in that bout. Vases of porcelain were left in shattered little pieces when he thought about the way you looked up at Cole like he hung the stars in the sky. End tables of oakwood were left in splinters as he imagined Cole whispering lovingly in your ears. And each time he sat in the wake, staring at his hands as they bled due to his carelessness, and he prayed to the old gods and the new, asking for your forgiveness. 

The cycle never ended, because however much he tried, however much he inserted himself in your life, you seemed forever content to play your part as a dutiful wife while simultaneously withholding the only thing he wanted from you now. Any other man would not complain about being married to you. They would be ecstatic that no matter how much debauchery they committed, however many whores they fucked and taverns they inhabited, their wife still demurely welcomed them home, ensured their needs were always met, and never deigned to bother them. He hated it with every fibre of his being. 

He wanted you to scream and hit him in the chest in your anger, to call him names and loathe him. He wanted you to glare at him in bed and refuse his kisses. He wanted you to hate him, because if he could make you hate him, he could make you love him too. He could turn those screams and punches into laughs and loving caresses. He could turn the names and loathing into soft words and adoration. He could turn the glare in bed into a soft look of relaxation as you lay your head on his chest and hummed in comfort. He could turn the refused kisses into begs for more. He often thought he was descending into madness. 

Some months later, after everything in the world had jumbled itself around and left Daemon adrift, useless and hopeless to the point of self-loathing, he found himself watching you in the gardens from one of the balconies above the south courtyard. 

When Daemon looked at you, he felt his chest begin to fill with something thick and painful. It was liquefied stone crushing each of his organs, it was hot syrup drowning his lungs. Your smile was sad and gentle as you ran your fingers over the embroidery you had just finished. 

To know he was filled to the brim with love for you and you had nothing more than indifference to offer him now was already a kind of crippling pain he now had to endure. To know he had broken your heart long before he had even cared for it was another. But to live for the rest of his life knowing he had trapped you, that it was the devotion and loyalty you gave him unconditionally simply because you were married to him, that your marriage to him was the sole reason you would never be happy… That was the worst pain of all. 

Taglist: @mornixgstar18 @carmalcandylover @aedhyratargaryen @kamcrazy123 @wallacewillow0773638 @yo-alli @kishie8 @freyathehuntress @moonlightstuffs @snowflames-world @adombtch @snowtargaryen @mrs-kise-ryota-kise-wife @she2rreal @immyowndefender @dantefairyfrogs @vavafaure1994 @loveyouok @tallrock35 @whitehare7701 @claraisme23 @carl-grimes-eye-socket @dilfluvr4evr @seasonswinter @mah1644 @diqnawn @anna-2401 @vanessyyyu @ninihrtss @inkedmetanoia @m3hr33n33

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - part 1

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[pilot]

A bit over a week later Oscar was sitting in his rented car in the school’s parking lot, thinking about how this conversation could go. According to you, they were aware of the fact he had not known Oliver existed until recently, so he hoped they didn’t expect him to talk about what he was like. Sure, over the past week he asked you about him, he wanted to prepare for meeting him, but they hadn’t met in person. How could he know what to say? After taking a deep breath, he got out and went inside, feeling more nervous than he did when he was getting in the car before a race.

If he was this nervous now, what would he feel like before meeting his son? 

Spending years in a boarding school prepared him for this meeting, and the principal was everything he imagined him to be. He was polite, not making a fuss over the fact he was–let’s say–famous. He even apologized for the mess he caused, saying he understood it was probably quite a shock for him, but this was the protocol, and they couldn’t make an exception. Oscar kept nodding, even assuring him it was okay, although deep down he was still confused and unsure of things. 

All of this despite his conversation with his mother, who had been overjoyed when she saw a video of Oliver, saying he was truly just like him, and she couldn’t wait to have the chance to meet her grandchild in person. But she also told him maybe this was the best thing that could happen to him. Having a child is truly an experience, and since he was still five, they had the chance to have a wonderful relationship. “You say he loves F1. Just imagine how happy he would be if he could go to some race weekends with you. You could teach him so much about racing, and you could bond over that,” she said. 

After he parked in front of your house in the afternoon, Oscar went to the trunk to get everything he brought with himself. From signed merch from both himself and Lando–just to be sure–to toy racing cars, he had a wide variety of gifts. Something will hopefully become a favorite, an item that he would keep close to himself. Maybe he went overboard, maybe he could’ve brought only one thing, but he had no idea what Oliver liked, so he couldn’t pick just one item. 

“Please, don’t tell me you brought all this for him.”

He looked up with a questioning hum, only to find you standing next to him on the sidewalk. Seeing you again brought back memories of your time together, of all of your little adventures during the short time you spent together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you fled because you found out you were pregnant. If you didn’t leave him so suddenly, would things be different now? Would you be a big happy family? 

Clearing his throat, he flashed a sheepish smile at you. “I couldn’t choose,” he admitted as he grabbed the duffel bag and followed you to the front door. He couldn’t help but wonder what he could expect, and he had to ask you the most important thing. “Did you tell him that he was meeting his father today?” You nodded. That was good. “Is he excited?”

You bit on your lower lip as you watched him, clearly thinking about how to answer the question. But after a short break, you let out a sigh. “He’s a little confused, I think. My boyfriend, Alejandro, met him when he was only two, the three of us spent a lot of time together, and he moved in last year. Oliver… He assumed my boyfriend was his dad, which in a way he is, but we had to sit him down and explain the situation to him,” you said, looking sad all of a sudden. 

It was clear now why you were so against telling Oliver the truth. You wanted him to be close to your boyfriend, and you were probably afraid things between them would change once he got into the picture. Maybe you were even afraid things between you and your boyfriend would change too. He couldn’t blame you for that, but now that he knew he had a son, Oscar wanted to be a part of his life. He didn’t want to be some asshole who ignored his own blood. 

Once inside, he put the bag on the floor and followed you to the living room where Oliver was watching some cartoon on TV. Now that he saw him in person, he felt warmth spread through his body, because this kid looked exactly like he did at his age. You cleared your throat next to him to get your son’s attention, and when the kid noticed him, his eyes grew wide from surprise. He got off the couch and slowly walked over to them, his eyes never leaving his face as he tried to process who their guest was. 

“Hello, Oliver,” Oscar said as he crouched down. 

“You’re Oscar Piastri!” he yelled excitedly. 

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “I am.”

You reached out to ruffle your son’s hair, then leaned down to be on somewhat eye level with him. “Honey, remember when I said your daddy was going to jump in to see you?” The little boy nodded. “It’s Oscar. He’s your dad,” you told him softly.

Suddenly the excitement was replaced by disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you as he tried to process what he’d just been told. The corners of Oscar’s lips curled into a smile as he watched him, waiting patiently for the child’s decision. 

“So he’s my dad?” Oliver asked, earning a nod from you. “Does this mean I’m a Piastri?” It was Oscar’s turn to nod. “Mom, why am I not called Piastri?”

His eyes moved over to you just in time to see you gulp, clearly having trouble figuring out what to say to that. He couldn’t blame you for your confusion, it probably hadn’t occurred to you that one day you would have to respond to this question. With a kind smile, he put a hand on your arm, then turned to his son. “Because I’ve been away for a little too long. But I’m here, your mom and I can discuss if we could change that if you want,” he finished, barely daring to glance up at you, expecting to meet an angry look in your eyes.

But you didn’t look angry, if anything, you seemed relieved that he came to your rescue. There was a glint in your eyes, though, that told him you weren’t happy that Oliver brought up his surname. As he thought about it, it occurred to him that you had mentioned how you considered your boyfriend to be his father in a way, so maybe you would have rather given him his name. 

You placed a soft kiss on your son’s head, then informed him that you would leave the two of them alone so they could get to know each other. Father and son watched you leave the room, then he turned back to the child with a smile. “I brought you some things. Wanna see them?” he asked him, and when the little boy nodded, he went to grab his bag. 

As he opened the zipper, Oliver stood by his side, watching his every move with a happy smile on his face. Oscar pulled out the gifts, one by one, and couldn’t hold back his laugh as he watched his son proudly wearing his new baseball cap and shirt as he examined the toy car in his small hands. He began to talk about the last race, excitedly recounting the most memorable moments, including the end when his father crossed the finish line first. His big brown eyes turned to him, then he said that he was so happy he was here. 

When he wrapped his short arms around him, Oscar did the same and even pressed a kiss on the kid’s head. There was undeniably a certain connection between them that he couldn't explain, but they both knew it was there, otherwise his son probably wouldn't be this chill with the idea of being alone with a stranger. Okay, that and the fact he was his favorite driver.

They sat down in the middle of the living room, and Oliver decided to talk about his favorite books, proudly telling his father that he knew how to read, and that according to you and your boyfriend he was really good at it. “The other kids can barely read yet,” he said with a smug smile, “and I'm already learning math!”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Oscar asked him, but the boy only shook his head. “I should teach you. I started when I was younger than you, and my mom refused to play with me after a while.”

“Because you were so good?” 

With a shrug, he stretched his arms above his head. “I don't know, but I guess I was better than her. Not sure about other people, though,” he admitted with a warm smile.

Oliver let out a thoughtful hum. “Is she as awesome as my mom?” he suddenly asked, looking back at him. 

A laugh escaped him at the thought, which made his son tilt his head to the side in question. “That depends on who you ask. She loves to embarrass me online, which isn't always a good thing, but I love her, she's the best mum I could ask for. And there are a lot of people, especially my fans, who absolutely adore her for this gentle bullying,” he added with a laugh.

“My mom would never do that,” Oliver stated, his little nose scrunching at the thought. “She loves me too much.”

The two of them spent the next hour or so talking, sometimes stopping when the little boy got distracted by something he caught on TV. But he seemed interested, he wanted to learn as much as he could, and it was true the other way around, because Oscar asked a lot of questions too. He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until you walked in to tell your son it was time for dinner, a statement that came with the question whether or not his dad was allowed to stay. 

You didn’t let him stay, saying he was probably tired from traveling so much, then gave him a begging look to make him speak up too. Oscar let out a sigh and forced a smile on his face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m staying for a few days and your mum let me come to see you every day,” he said happily. “In fact, I’ll be looking out for you tomorrow while she’s at work. How does that sound?”

Oliver squealed from happiness before he hugged you both, thanking you over and over again for letting him come over. “Can we go to the zoo?” he asked with bright eyes as he looked over at his father. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” Oscar responded with a nod. 

“Okay, time to wash your hands, Alejandro will be home soon, so we can start to eat,” you asked your son. Once he said goodbye to Oscar and disappeared, you turned to him with a forced smile. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

With a sigh, he stepped closer to you. “You were right, he’s a lot like me,” he began quietly, then stopped to consider what to say. He knew deep down that you wanted him to stay away, you didn’t want him to ruin the balance of your little family, but how could he give you that after getting to know his son? Oliver was his blood, he was truly a mini version of him, there was no way he would turn his back on him now. 

You knew. After all these years, despite your time together being so short, you still knew him well enough to know what was going on in his head. “Just don’t break his heart, okay?” you asked, earning a nod from him. “Thanks for… everything. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Have a good night.”

tagged: @hc-dutch @nxlx96 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @laanswife @chunkpiboli @pakotrzl @1800-love-me

important: the taglist is closed. in fact, this might be the first and last time i'm doing this, because leaving someone out accidentally stresses me. sorry.

Anyway, what do you think? Should I continue?

[starkeyisthelastname]

stepbro!rafe jealous of reader and her bf at the christmas party.. then following her upstairs and fucking her while everyone else is out there

I went a little overboard. 🥴 this is very dirty. You’ve been warned

Rafe had no idea what you saw in that bozo, Chad. He was a kook who was perfect in the eyes of Ward and your mother. Attending Chapel Hill, excellent grades, a gentleman, gave back to the community. All things he was not or had given up due to his addiction to coke or constant disappointment from his father. The problem was that Chad didn’t know you like he did. He watched with squinted blue eyes as you giggled at something the douche had said. You two stood by the glittering Christmas tree as Sarah took a picture of the two of you.

The mini Burberry skirt you wore that barely covered your ass, had his cock straining against the khaki pants he wore. The fact that, that asshole got to be by your side all a night during this party had his blood boiling. He downed the amber liquid in his glass as he watched you tell Sarah that you had forgotten something upstairs. With the party busy, he easily followed you up the immaculate staircase towards your room.

Humming a Christmas song, you skipped over to the decorated pink Christmas tree in the corner of your room. Bending down, you picked up the gift you had forgotten only to hear the door shut and lock behind you. You turned around to see Rafe, eyes almost black as his jaw tensed while he looked at you. “You are quite the good little actress aren’t you.” He cracked out, voice low. “Your perfect little boyfriend has no idea that the same lips that kissed him tonight were wrapped around my cock this morning does he?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the memory of sucking your step-brother’s cock in the shower that morning. It was more than wrong. Not only because you had a boyfriend but hello because he was your step-brother. Your step-brother who had a dick that was made for you. You began to stutter out something when his tall frame stalked towards you, hand gripping your throat. “You are gonna lay here and take my dick while your dumbass boyfriend looks for you downstairs.”

He shoved you onto your perfectly made bed, ring adored hand ripping the $340.00 designer tights. The red jeweled thong you wore was torn off, while his hand that was on your neck came down to release his monster from the confinement of his Calvin Klein’s. He pulled you closer, one leg resting on his broad shoulder while the other was bent back towards your chest. “Gimme your phone.” He demanded.

You didn’t even have time to ask why when he grabbed it from where it sat on one of your furry pillows. He unlocked it, the familiar ding of taking a video making your head perk up. “Rafe- what are you do-..” You were cut off by him slamming in all nine inches into your slick cunt, making you let out a gasp instead. Your phone getting a closeup view of your step-brother’s cock sliding in and out of your leaking pussy.

“Shit- look at that my man Chad. Look at the mess your girlfriend is making on my dick.” Rafe chuckled as the camera captured the sounds of your squelching pussy. His thrusts sped up at a pace you knew only Rafe could make happen. Whimpers and whines being the only sounds you could make out, as he bruised your cervix. You knew exactly what he was doing. Taking a video to send to the same boyfriend you were just taking pictures with.

“Tell him that you are taking your step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” The older boy spit out, his free hand gripping your hair to make you look directly at the camera. You couldn’t find words, looking completely cock drunk, despite your makeup still being flawless. Your breath began to shallow as you could already feel your orgasm coming strong.

“Tell him or I’ll fucking spot right now.”

You shuttered, your hands gripping the fluffy duvet while you looked at the camera. “No- please don’t daddy.” You cry out, Rafe’s favorite nickname making him want to blow right there. “I’m taking my step-brother’s dick like a good slut.” Your climax hitting hard as you squirted all over Rafe’s NorthFace fleece.

Your thighs shook as you came down from your high, collapsing onto the bed and listening to the sounds above you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” Rafe grunted, pulling out quickly as he aimed his seed on your tongue, your pretty face accidentally getting covered in it as more unexpectedly shoots out.

The video was sent to Chad with the caption underneath reading.

Merry Christmas.

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  Decorating Sakura’s Room 『 ♡ sakura haruka x reader 』

content // after seeing sakura's empty room for the first time, you're determined to make him feel more at home with a few additions.

note // tumblr decided not to post this yesterday for softie sunday lol so here it is!

Sakura's always deterred you from coming back to his place for your date nights, avoiding the topic altogether by offering to meet up at Pothos or to watch movies at your place instead. For the first month or so of dating, you didn't question it much, but now? It's getting suspicious. What did he have to hide from you?

"C'mon, we always go to my apartment. Why do you never have me over?"

Your demand has Sakura sweating, unable to come up with a logical excuse to keep you away any longer. He knows damn well that you can see right through his lies...and he has a terrible poker face around you.

"Fine, but don't expect much," he mutters, stomping passed you and continuing down the street. When you approach his front door, he takes a deep breath before twisting the handle.

"Do you not lock your door?!" You exclaim, noticing he didn't have a set of keys on him. "Saku, that's dangerous as hell!"

"S'not a big deal," he mumbles before kicking his shoes off into the corner, completely ignoring the shoe rack behind the door. "Don't have anythin' to steal, anyways."

You're confused by his words until you get a decent look at the apartment. It's...bare. Not a single decorative item in sight.

"Did you just move into this place?" you ask, confused. You're slowly making your way back to his bedroom, awestruck by the lack of evidence that anyone lives here.

"Nah, been here since I got to Makochi."

You turn to face him, a sad glint in your eyes before shaking your head. It makes him swallow nervously, the tips of his ears warming by the second. You don't say another word about it for the rest of the day.

A couple days pass until the two of you have plans again. You insist to meet at Sakura's place, and after lots of begging, he begrudgingly agrees. When you finally arrive to his place, you can barely knock on the door with how full your hands are with numerous bags of gifts. He opens the door as your mid-swing with your foot to "knock," immediately overwhelmed by the amount of stuff on your person.

"Th' hell is all this?!" Sakura shouts while attempting to grab a few of the bags from your hands. "Yer like a walkin' target with all this! Get in here already!"

"Sorry, Saku. I couldn't help it."

Sakura places the bags on the floor, slowly peaking through them to investigate just what the hell you've unloaded into his space. There are tons of essential items in neutral tones - a few sets of towels, a bath mat, two pillows and silk cases, a 4 set of plates and bowls, silverware, a pair of black house slippers, a brand new reusable water bottle, a water filter for the fridge, and a picture frame.

"I might've went a little overboard," you say sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I felt bad you didn't have anything to make your home feel like your own. So I got you some things to warm it up, make it feel more permanent and a place you like, not just one you sleep in."

Sakura's speechless - devastated, even. He can't comprehend what he did to deserve your sweetness, biting his lip to keep his emotions caged. His cheeks are ablaze as he picks up the picture frame, noticing the plastic film is missing and there's a familiar set of pictures behind the glass.

"I went ahead and put in the pictures we took at the photo booth from the theater on our first date, you don't need to keep⎯ "

Your silenced by Sakura's lips capturing yours, his shaky hands cradling your face. Your squeak of surprise makes his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he whispers as you part, moving to wrap you up in a tight hug. "Yer...always so warm, like bein' under the sun on a hot day. I'm still getting used to that feelin', but this helps more than you know."

Your heart swells as you lay your head on his shoulder, absorbing all of his affection in the moment.

"Of course, Sakura. You deserve to be happy and feel like you belong."

His grip tightens on your shirt, a shiver running down his spine at your words. One day, he'll be able to tell you how you've made him feel at home for awhile now, and that the material possession are a nonfactor.

You pull back from his hug and pat him on the shoulders. "I'll help you put everything away and whatnot."

The two of you spend the next hour unpacking all of the goodies you've bought, leaving the picture frame for last. Sakura grabs the frame and paces the apartment a few times, pondering where exactly he wants to put it until the perfect spot pops into his mind.

Right above the shoe rack so you can welcome him home every single day with your bright smile.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

[sourpeachsayshi]

Praise kink with Nanami, please😭

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: therapist!nanami; client!reader; guided; forbidden; doctor-patient relationship; size kink(?)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: I went overboard with this one.

nanami's eyes darken, his glasses resting just below the bridge of his nose, irises blurring like the haze between night and day. he uncrosses then crosses his legs, desperately trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. his notebook is still resting comfortably on his lap, one of his hands fidgeting with the pen that he lightly taps against the paper, while the other traces the outline of his lip.

your legs are spread apart, your skirt flipped up, underwear pulled to the side. your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the lace fabric of your pretty, pretty bra. the sight of your cunt forms a knot in his throat, which he swallows while trying to forget the many nights he's jacked off picturing himself fucking you.

the one who came to him after leaving her horrible husband. who has struggled to find any sexual pleasure ever since, and who timidly admitted that she finds her underwear soaked after every session with dr. kento.

"I don't think," you sigh, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "I don't think this will work..."

"but you look good," he reassures, noticing your lashes flutter at his words. "Wet. I can see it from here..."

your face burns with embarrassment, and you part your lips to say something though no words come out.

"just keep listening, okay? you're doing really well for me, I promise this will help," he lies through his teeth, his cheeks tinting a shade of crimson of him abusing his role. "your middle and index finger, use it to rub your clit, not too fast...nice and easy..."

you oblige, and that doesn't take him by surprise. you listen to his guidance, start massaging the nub of your clit gently. a few minutes pass, but he's busy paying attention to your reactions. the way your breath hitches and your chest hiccupping as you try to stifle a moan.

"don't hold it in," he coos, "give in to your natural reactions. it's okay, I'm right here. I'm watching you, helping you. you trust me, right?"

"yes, doctor," you whimper and he hums in response.

"feels good?"

"uh-huh"

"you sound lovely, like you're enjoying it..."

"mmph~"

"faster. add a little more pressure, that's right..." he continues, "how do you feel?"

"warm-" you add, breathless and needy which only fuels his desire. "I l-like it, I like how it feels..."

"This is excellent progress, I'm proud of you," he praises, a hint of a devious smile ticking the corner of his lip. "try putting a finger in, there you go..."

his eyes narrow as you sink your middle finger into your hole. you gasp in slight shock, taken aback that you actually enjoyed the tiny stretch. nanami nearly snaps the pen his half. knowing full well that the length and thickness of his fingers would do far, far better.

you pump in and out, so slowly like you're trying to figure out what pacing you prefer. "doctor kento," you moan, though you are not addressing him with anything specific except to simply call out his name.

his cock twitches.

he takes his glasses off, and folds it neatly between his pressed shirt. he closes his notebook, the page filled with mindless scribbles that he put together to distract himself from being aroused by you.

"when we discussed your sex life prior to your marriage, you mentioned you enjoyed receiving oral," he states.

you gaze up at him with doe eyes from underneath your lashes, finger fucking yourself tenderly as you shake your head in confirmation.

he gets up from his seat, takes a few steps closer as he carefully rolls up his sleeve. he kneels before you, the afternoon light sparkling against his golden hair. his face far too close to your cunt.

"a more manual approach might do you some good," he mumbles, his large palms reaching for your plush thighs.

the heat burns behind your ears and down your neck, your muscles in your lower belly start quivering with delight and anticipation.

"you're gorgeous, by the way," he admits, dropping his professional mask and allowing his inner thoughts to speak on his behalf. "it's a shame your ex couldn't appreciate that..."

he moves on hand to circle around your wrist and draws it away from your soaking cunt. he brings your shaking fingers to his lips to taste your essence before releasing you with a pop.

"so sweet," he purrs. he drops your wrist, his hands smoothing over your inner thigh and over the curve of your pelvis. when he looks up at you, you almost don't recognize the devilish expression on the face of such a gentleman. "you deserve to feel this good. may I?"

you melt into the pillow behind you, your heart pounding so hard against your chest it makes the room around you spin.

"we'll go for as long as you can handle. alright, sweetheart?"

"yes, doctor kento"

"good girl," he murmurs, the depth of his voice making you tremble in your seat. "such a good girl..."

your eyes roll to the back of your head, a cry leaving your lips that sounds like an ache when he brings his tongue to your sex and drags upward along the glittering slit.

no more secrets x

[arachine]

my eyes r rolling omffff waht is wrong w u and how r u so talented! it’s not fair 🙏 but anyway i can’t stop thinking about more stepbro!neteyam and how you’re going through heat and he helps you out

claiming 🫘 if it’s not taken 😁

— sinful desires !

+ pairings :: step!bro neteyam x female na’vi!reader 

+ genre :: mature

+ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language)

+ content warnings :: characters aged up (20), dark content, pseudo-cest, reader gets her heat, corruption, dacryphilia, vaginal sex, f/m ejaculation...not proofread

+ note :: hi nonnie bb! wrote this as a thirst…went a little overboard hehe :3 + not my usual format ;( bc i wrote this before going to the dining hall LOL! but yeah, this is just smth light before i get started on my actual WIPS.

“c’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he thumbs your cheek, tilting his head with an avian flutter of his lashes. neteyam could be so…generous. always too eager to help—too eager to make everybody’s problems, his problems.

right now he had you splayed out in a clearing, one hand holding his weighty cock, and the other holding the back of your thigh. you’ve been in this position for a while, all heavy breaths and squirms, physically (and mentally) fighting the urge to relinquish your body to him—to let him you.

you always pictured your first heat going a lot smoother than this. that when the time came, you’d be prepared and mated—but you were neither. so, one could only imagine the moral dilemma that arises when you’re forced to choose between two (very bad) options: 1) doing nothing and ultimately succumbing to the pain, and 2) fucking the only guy who conveniently happened to be within proximity.

the latter was obviously, not something you would’ve chosen for yourself—but the pain was excruciating—debilitating, and your current location wasn’t giving you much room for choice.

“look, you can stay here and suffer, bound to the forest soil, or you can let me help you,” the boy slides the weeping tip of his cock over your exposed folds, “which one sounds better? wallowing in pain or big brother helping you, hm?”

the tail of his query is accompanied with a prod to your hole, and you whimper in response, arching up to grasp at his chest. neteyam finds amusement in this, chuckles under his breath and gets real low on top of you.

“c’mon, baby, say it. tell me with your words. not gonna make you do something you don’t want to do,” and with that he’s lifting your chin up, using the pad of his loitering thumb to swipe away crystalline droplets.

you nod your head slowly. first once, then twice, lifting your hips up to meet him halfway. he takes your silent acquiescence as an invitation to glide into you. and, fuck, it’s so easy…fits right in like a glove. overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

you’re trouble, he thinks. because he knows that after he fucks you, gives you what you want—he’ll only want more. and that hunger will only grow, it’ll fester and fester, until the only way he can get off is with you. and that couldn’t happen, no—because this was only supposed to be a one time thing.

what would the people think of their future olo’eyktan messing around with his little sister? surely, they’d denounce his claim and deem him unfit to lead, right? and what would your parents think? they’d probably disown the both of you, or worse, disown you. and that’s the last thing he wants—to ruin you.

which is why this has to be the first time and the last time.

“‘teyam make me feel good please!” you clasp your hands behind his neck, forcing him to lay atop of you, “wan’ it to stop hurting…please, just…help me.”

there’s a flicker in your eyes when you say it, and he likes it. makes his spine tingle and his pupils dilate. because he wants to hear you do it again.

“you want me to make you feel good, huh?” a slow, drawn out thrust, “want big brother to make it feel better here?” he unsheathes himself from your gummy cunt and taps the top of your mound with the weight of his length.

“mhm, need you now, ‘teyam. please, hurry!” of all the years he’s known you, he’s never known you to be a beggar. the sheer desperation in your voice alone was enough to make him forgo all of his disciplines.

without pause, he guides his mushroomy head back to your leaking hole, and pushes himself all the way in until the fat of his balls is plush against your ass.

its’s so swift, the way he completely takes charge, like he’s done this before—like he’s been inside of you. your body was foreign to him, a stranger, and yet, it wasn’t. and he convinces himself as much because of the way you’re responding to him.

you are putty under his touch, and every moan, grab, clutch, and clench only confirms this.

faster, deeper—harder, you preen. and he obeys. does it when you command it, and doesn’t ease up. it’s almost unreal, the way the two of you are moving in perfect synchrony. like you’re liquified metal, melding together to form one.

“shit, feel you clenching. are you close, baby?” he syncopates each word with a harsh thrust, letting his weight distribute to one arm as he encases the side of your head. you nod eagerly, mumbling a string of expletives, followed after a series of strangled cries.

“f-feel it coming, don’t stop.” you’re so close, so, so, so close to that sweet release that you’ve been chasing after since it happened, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it.

unconsciously, you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, and pull him down by the neck until his face is mere centimeters away from yours. you’re close—too close. so close that if he were to dip his head down just slightly, he’d kiss you.

your eyes flit to his lips, to his eyes, and then back to his lips. calling. beckoning. pleading.

kiss me, is what he thinks they’re saying. but he’s scared it’s too…intimate. a kiss would solidify things—feelings—and he didn’t have the mental fortitude to come to terms with that just yet.

this was supposed to be something he did to help you, he reminds himself. he was just doing you a favor, because that’s what brothers did, right? just a favor. nothing more, nothing less.

but eyes stare back into eyes, and breaths intertwine with breaths, and shit, he’s a weak man. this was another deadly combination that could only be blamed by the forced proximity. damn this.

he presses his lips to your own, harsh and heavy, leaving no room for anything. no room for hesitation—air—not even for protest. and when you kiss him back with just as much want, just as much need? he’s melting into your touch, ramming into you with such unbridled velocity, that you don’t even register the accidental love bite you gave his lip.

he works through it though, licks the blood up and continues his assault on your cunt. lays thrust after thrust until your body falls lax in his hold and your thighs clench shut around him.

“that’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, “go ahead, give it all to me.” with the encouragement of his sweet words, you come undone all over his cock, with his own release not too far behind.

“fuckfuckfuck, where you want it?” he grunts out through broken moans.

“inside, do it inside!” you sob, grabbing for his neck once more, pulling him down to your chest. you help to draw his release out by moving your hips in unison with his, holding yourself up on your forearms as he sheathes himself in and out of you at a dizzying pace.

with a final piston, he finishes inside of you. the two of you stall in the air briefly before he gently lowers you down onto your back, him following soon after to lay on your breasts.

when his breaths even, and the bioluminescent plants begin to glow, he unsheathes himself from inside you and sits back on his knees. you look so pretty, he thinks. with his spent seeping from your hole, and your skin all slick with sweat.

“this can never…” you breathe, chest still heaving and breaths ragged, “never, ever happen again.”

a beat. he doesn’t answer. and you repeat yourself, only this time, with more power behind your tone.

“hey, this can never happen again. got it?”

he can only manage to give you a nod, but he doesn’t give you his word.

because this? this wouldn’t be the last time. he was going to be selfish, and if that meant ruining you for anyone else in the clan—if that meant keeping you from finding a potential mate, he’d just have to ruin you.

© arachine 2023

[nivisdreaming]

What if eddie tied reader in rope and stuff then shut the door while watching tv, reader starts to feel overwheled but when they use their safeword eddie doesnt hear it until reader yells it

ok so!! i’m gonna take this n run with it a little because i couldnt decide what type of overwhelm to do, but brat tamer!eddie who is also soft my beloved!!! he’s a bit harsher of a dom than my last dom!eddie fic, but still just as soft afterwards <333

Summary: Fed up with your bratty attitude, Eddie decides to be extra mean with his punishment and leave you alone while a vibrator overstimulates you. When it gets to be too much, you attempt to call a safeword, only to discover he can’t hear you from where he’s stationed outside the room. It’s only after you use the last of your strength he rushes into the room, comforting you and nursing you back to that fuzzy safety of his presence.

WC: ~2k (oops i went overboard again)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, safeword use, mildly unsafe BDSM practices (don’t leave someone tied without supervision or communication!!), overstimulation, brat taming, adult toys, bondage, collaring mentioned, fem!reader, dom!eddie, sub!reader, aftercare, praise, implied syncope/pre-syncope

You knew you were in for it the second Eddie opened the toy drawer. You had been running your mouth all day, talking back to Eddie whenever given the chance, and decided to start teasing him with pictures of his favorite lingerie while he was at band practice. The second he was home, you were hauled over his shoulder and carried to the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed and turned to rustle through the drawer.

“Strip. Nothing but your collar, or you’ll make this worse for yourself,” he barks out. The drawer slams shut and he heads for the door, shutting and locking it for the time being. When he turns around to face you, still scrambling the get the last of your clothing off, you can see what he’s selected. In one hand, he holds a wand vibrator, one of your most powerful toys with 10 different speed selections and a long plug in cord to prevent battery death. In the other, he holds a pair of your favorite fuzzy handcuffs, and a long section of bright red rope.

A shudder runs down your spine as you peel your panties off, leaving you bare under his gaze. You can see the wicked glint in his eyes, his ever-presenting smirk unfading as he speaks, “On your back, wrists together in front of you.” You move to lie on the bed, watching his movements to plug in the toy but leave it off, then coming to kneel beside you. He snaps the handcuffs to your wrists, checking the tightness before ripping your thighs apart to expose your cunt to him. “Based on the way your dripping onto the sheets already, I don’t need to worry about prepping you for this punishment. Just in case, what’s your safeword baby?” His eyes are the softest you had seen them all day, and it manages to conjure small butterflies in your stomach. He always looks so lovesick for you in these gentle little movements of reprieve.

“Yellow to slow, red to stop completely, sir,” you reply, finding your voice to already have that sickly sweet and timid tone to it. So much for the misbehaving and bratty attitude.

He gives a nod and releases your legs. You hold them open for him, curious of what is going to occur next, when he huffs and stands up from the bed. “One more thing, I think this is missing just one more thing.” He returns to the toy drawer and searches for a moment, pulling out a matching red silk scarf and returning to your side. “You won’t need to see for this. Want you focused in on feeling every single of your punishment, no need to overwhelm that pretty head of yours with anything other than pleasure.” He secures the scarf around your eyes, blocking out your sight to anything other than the fabric.

There’s a pause where all you can hear is the shuffling of his footsteps, and then a buzzing noise fills the room. You can feel the cool head of the wand pressed against your inner thigh as Eddie slowly makes his way up your body, until he’s got it pressed directly against your clit, making you squirm and try to pull away from the sudden intensity of stimulation. He chuckles lowly, “Oh honey, if you think this is bad, you are in for a hell of a night,” he ticks the setting up higher on the toy, making you cry out. His knees come to rest of either side of you, pushing your thighs together until he’s got the toy trapped between your legs and pushed right up against your core. He snickers as he bends to reach the ropes, quick to tie simple bands around the meat of your legs, even as you writhe and whine under him.

He secures the last knot and gives a light tap to your cheek to capture your attention. “There, now you can’t get away from it. Be a good girl and take everything you are given.” You whimper but mutter out an agreement in between your breathless cries. “You’re always such a vocal little thing. I’m going to go enjoy my night and probably smoke a bit, try not to wake the neighborhood with your crying and maybe I’ll let you have my cock later, ‘kay sweet-cheeks?” Satisfied with your nod, he exits the room, slotting the bedroom door shut behind him in hopes of sealing some of your noise inside. You two had begun to receive a few noise complaints, specifically about the longer sessions that tended to drag on late into the night, and Eddie planned to drag this one out as long as possible. As much as he hated being so horny from all the teasing and not being able to fuck you already, he knew it would feel so much better if you could take you while you were already so dumb-fucked and overstimulated. That, and he hoped you would be too busy babbling about how sensitive you were to continue your bratting. He sat on the couch with a sigh, turning on a horror flick he had already seen a thousand times and attempting to get comfortable for the everlasting evening he was in for.

Meanwhile, you felt your first orgasm start to rip through your body, triggering your back to arch up and a strangled moan to pull from your throat. You tried to keep it quiet and listen to Eddie’s orders, but it was really difficult with the incessant vibrating against you. There just never was a moment of break, your core kept clenching down and your hips bucked, unsure whether to chase the pleasure or run away, not that you could actually do either. Your whole body shook as you came for the second time, the overstimulation to your clit sending waves of slick gushing out of you and beginning to puddle underneath you. You heaved, whole body feeling like it was burning from the spasms, pain melding with pleasure and creating a bitter-sweet loop of never ending orgasms being clawed from you with a vengeance.

You began to lose count around number 7, brain too fuzzed out and overloaded to organize clear thoughts anymore. You found your voice too hoarse to make much noise anymore, reduced to soft whimpers and pants for air as you fought to keep your lungs full. Your tongue lulled out, mouth dry from the constant gasping. The soreness in your core was unbelievable, like fireworks stabbing you from the inside, burning hot and white and blinding, punching you in the gut repeatedly like someone was knocking the wind out of you.

It was delicious, truly, the endorphins running through you, the powerless submission being left here made you feel. Or it would be, could you just get enough air in to appreciate it. Every shot of electricity up your spine forced everything out of your lungs, a horrific forced hyperventilation that was starting to darken up the corners of your vision, the red of the fabric being transformed to a creeping black that pulsated and grew with the pounding of your heart.

Lightheadness, a little floaty and dizzy feeling, you were used to these happening during a session. But this, this felt different. A terrifying sense of impending doom accompanied them, leaving your sweaty body to feel as if your blood was suddenly ice cold. Broken, breathless, and quickly running out of energy, you tried to weakly call out to Eddie, “I-… r-red, ssir..”

You could hear no shift in what was going on behind the closed door. The movie was loud, at it’s most vicious moments, and with the muffling of the walls and the buzzing there was no way for him to hear you like this.

A sob clutched at your throat, further forcing the oxygen from you as you felt the tension increase in your stomach again. It burned so bad now, you couldn’t tell the pounding of your head from the pounding of your clit, and your limbs felt too heavy to squirm around anymore, despite the convulsions still wracking your body. The powerful toy had you right on the edge again, and the threat of coming another time was enough to punch a scream of your safeword from your chest just as there was a loud shriek from Eddie’s movie.

Eddie was off the couch and flying to the bedroom in a flash, throwing the door open and scanning over you in a guttural panic. Just the sound of you screaming out for him at felt like a stab the chest, and the sight of you twisted the knife deeper in his heart. He yanked the plug from the wall, killing the vibrations while he ripped the blindfold from your eyes. Both hands came up to cradle your head as he tried to get your blown out pupils to focus on him, though it appeared you stared right through him.

“I’m here baby, I’m right here, can you hear me? I need you to focus on my voice honey,” he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, “Fuck, you’re breathing really fast baby, you need to slow down or you’re gonna knock yourself out. Try breathe with me, best you can. Deep breath in, 1…2…3…4. Deep breath out, 1…2…3…4, just like that hun, you’re doing so well, such a good girl.” A small whine left you at his words, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sign that you were coming back to him.

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay, I’ve gotcha now baby, let’s get these off you so I can clean you up and get you properly snuggled with me.” He removes your cuffs and undoes the rope bindings, allowing all your shaky limbs to flop freely. He gathers you up in his arms and presses a water bottle to your lips, urging you to drink half. He then moves you to lay on the couch while quickly changes the sheets to clean ones, before taking you back to bed. He wraps one arm over your shoulder to hold you close while the other runs a damp cloth over your thighs and tummy, cleaning off the sweat and slick until he’s satisfied. When he’s finally finished, he pulls you all the way onto his chest and wraps a blanket around the both of you. He presses a sweet kiss to you forehead before leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“My sweet girl, you did so well for me tonight. I’m so sorry for leaving you like that baby, I never meant to be away for that long, got distracted daydreaming about you and forgot I had my pretty girl all to myself already. Not gonna leave like that again, okay? Never again. Staying right here, holding you close forever and ever. Keep you warm and soft and bundled up, just a baby should be.” He squeezes you a bit tighter. “I love my perfect baby so much, you know that? Love you with all of me. I’ll keep you safe, you know that right? I’m going to keep you so safe. No one can hurt you, because you’re mine. My baby.” He leaves kisses all over your head and face, coaxing a small giggle from you as you peel your tired eyes open long enough to place a kiss on his lips.

“Love you too, my teddy bear.” Your eyes fall back shut, and your asleep in seconds, both you and Eddie pressed chest to chest, clinging to each other all night.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Tease

Park Seonghwa x fem reader

a/n: yikes i went overboard- this was originally supposed to be a small drabble but the hwa brain rot is so real. i saw this photo and I STARTED THINKIN THOUGHTS I HAD TO GET THEM OUT-

You decided to tease your boyfriend, but you soon find out that what goes around always comes back around.

✫彡wordcount: 2.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot, fluff sprinkles

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

soft dom+teasing seonghwa, established relationship, implications of nudes, use of sex toys, edging/orgasm control, cunnilingus, begging(lots tbh), praise, dacryphilia, unprotected penetration(wrap it up yall), lots of pet names, hair pulling, light name calling, profanity, scratching, one(1) chomp, big dick hwa, belly bulge, cream pie, and forehead touches(obv) and i think that's it ... i told you i went overboard ..damn this is wild 😭

SMUT UNDER THE CUT MDNI

"You wanted my attention all day, Sweetie. Why are you crying now? You've got what you wanted..." Seonghwa looks down at you with his eyes glazed over in lust, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning down to where you sit on the floor in front of the couch. Your legs spread, face warm and wet with tears, cute pantie set pushed to the side to give him a good view of your wet hole clenching the toy. "You've got all my attention, sweet girl."

"Please-"

"Nuh-uh." He cuts you off, cupping your face with a soft smile that hardly matches his next words, "you take it. This is what you get." You adjust yourself on the floor to sit on your knees, and he watches you with a hint of amusement.

You brace yourself on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his sweats. "Please, Mars... Touch me. God- please give me more. I need to cum. I'm s- I'm sorry!" You sob, leaning your head onto his lap. You feel his hand gently pat down your undoubtedly messy hair, then you hear him chuckle.

"You're always sorry until I let you cum, huh?"

"No, I'm really sor-"

"Teasing little slut," he groans, tenderly tugging your hair by the roots to pull your head up. You've left a stain of tears just above his knee. "Tell me," he begins, "do you think I enjoyed a hard on during practice? You think I got to cum after you teased me with those pictures?"

"No," you admit, tears slowing. He notices, and reaches to his phone, abruptly turning the device from six to twelve. They return full force, your legs clench themselves together and you cling onto Seonghwa for dear life as moans rip through you. "I'm sorry, Hwa! Please, please, it's too much," you croak out.

"Too much?" He coos with a smirk. "I thought you wanted to cum, Princess?" Your eyes widen at the implication of his words, and he only smiles back down at you. "Get back down there and maybe I'll let you."

You all but fall back into the shag rug of your apartment, hiccuping as your tears free fall. "Please, I'mma be good, Baby. I promise, I pinky swear, with a fucking cherry on top!" You almost forget to spread you legs, when his foot knocks down one of you knees and reminds you. You expose yourself to him as you revel in the feeling of the intense vibrations inside you.

It's never enough to make you cum, though. And Seonghwa knows that. That's why he's looking down with a smirk.

"Can't see you, Sweetie." His voice alone makes you cry out in a moan, writhing as you try to get any friction on your clit with the lace panties you used to tease him. "Take them off." Your tears blur your vision as you blink open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as you hook your fingers under the fabric. You follow his instruction, pulling them down as quickly as you can and leaving them discarded to an unknown corner of the room.

"There's my good girl," he all but moans as he slinks to the floor in front of you. "Where've you been all day, Angel? I've been stuck-" he runs his hand over your calve, making you twitch- he laughs heartily. "I've been stuck with an attention whore all day."

Unbeknownst to you, his smirk only grows as he comes closer and sees the fat tears that still run down the sides of your face. "I'm so-" you cry out as his hands find purchase on your hips, holding them in place. "I'm so sorry, Hwa! I'll never tease you again, I swear! I'm gonna be good! I'm your good girl, I promise!"

He hums, pushing you back so he can lay flat on his tummy. "I know you are, I know. We all have our days. Isn't that right, Princess? You were just extra needy today, huh?" His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit, and you begin mumbling incoherent pleas and apologies: gripping onto the carpet like it owes you money.

"Isn't that right?" he asks again, reaching one of his hands up to grip your hand and ground you.

"Yes," you moan, "just need you so bad."

"You've got me," he attaches his lips to your core with no warning, and both of your hands wrap up in his blond locks.

"God, fuck!" His tongue assaults your begging cunt, swiping up and down and side to side and messaging you in tight circles. "Oh my God, my God, Mars Baby, so good! You're so good! Please, don't stop," you begin to hyperventilate, and it doesn't slip his attention as he hears it in your tight voice.

He moves one of his hands away from its death grip on your hip and trails it to rest softly between your ribs, tracing the same patterns he makes with his tongue with his index finger. Similar to him, one of your hands lets up on the clutch you have on his head and traps his wrist in it, feeling the small flexes as he traces on your body.

When he begins backing his head away as you start to reach your peak, you try fruitlessly to push him back. The vibration increases ten fold. He put it all the way to twenty. Your hips buck in his hold, head thrown to the side and back arched off the floor.

"Angel, hey..." he speaks gently, leaning over you and smiling as he wipes your hot face. "You ready to cum for me?"

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, kissing his wrist before he pulls it away and wraps both his hands around your thighs. He watches as you wait patiently for a moment, bracing yourself for his tongue. "Hwa?" You prop yourself up after a long moment. "Baby, please?"

He hums, looking up as if he's deep in thought. "I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Fuck!" You pound your hands on the floor, surely pissing off the downstairs neighbor (who is the extremely unfortunate Choi San).

He laughs, thumbs digging into your hips as he gives you a kitten lick that makes tremors rack your body. "You sure?"

"Yes! Yes, please! I want to fucking cum for you, Mars! I want to fucking cum, please help me, I need it so badly," you can barely keep eye contact with him as he rolls his tongue out. "Please, stop teasing me," you whisper though your sobs, giving him your best pleading eyes.

"How can I resist that?"

He sucks roughly on your weeping cunt, rolling his tongue over your nerves as he does so. You come undone in no time at all, so wound up from his teasing that the pleasure spills over inside you and you're seeing stars in your vision. You freeze up as you're dunked into an overwhelming climax. He doesn't let up until you seem to come back into your own body, slumping to the floor and searching him out with a wandering hand.

He sits up quickly and pulls you up into his lap even quicker, wrapping his arms around you tightly- somehow finding time to turn the vibrator off in between. You lean into his warmth, moaning into his shoulder, "fuck." You're so out of it that you don't notice you're sitting over his hard cock. "Fucking love you."

"I love you," he places a chaste kiss to your temple. "My precious Angel. You did so well." His gentle fingers find your overworked cunt, and you jump at the feeling. He holds back a chuckle at the moan you let out when he finally takes the toy out with a lewd pop. He tosses it half harzardly near the wet spot left on the carpet by the mixture of his saliva and your wetness- making a mental note to break out the carpet cleaner.

"Sweet Angel," he rasps as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on your sweaty neck. "Love of my life." He tugs you away from your near-sleep with a deep kiss to your lips. It's wakes you up, his tongue quickly finding its place in your mouth. You wrap yours up in it, entangling you together as he pumps his cock in the small gap between the two of you.

"You need more time, Princess?" You shake your head, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you take him in the other.

He can barely hold himself back as he hears you begging so quietly, he nearly misses it. "Want you to fill me up."

"Fuck," he groans, "keep talking like and I'll loose my mind." He holds back a moan with his finger between his teeth as you sink down on him. You settle ontop of him, flattening your chest against his and resting your forehead against his. "Want you to fuck me full, Mars." You say proudly, "want you to cum inside me. Want it so bad."

"Too good to me, Sweetie." He rests his arms over your shoulders and glances down to where you're connected.

"Can I move now?" You ask with a quick smile and a kiss to the side of his lips. He nods, pushing his head impossibly closer to yours as his eyes screw up in pleasure.

"God," he gasps, savoring the way your walls slowly envelop him. His throat bobs as you kiss behind his ear, holding himself back to let you have your little moment of dominance. "My good girl, my Angel. Take me so good." His words appeal to the sub he knows you are, your hips stuttering.

The slapping of your skin together echoes in the room, fueling both of your insatiable hunger for one another. "So big," you whine as you work your hips. You finally lean away from him to get better leverage, rolling your hips. "Gah-" You moan as he presses on of his hands to your back, the other just above your cunt. "No, I can't take it! Don't fucking do it, Hwa."

He swipes his tongue over his top lip, looking up at you with a shockingly wholesome smile. "Don't you wanna feel me, Princess? I wanna feel..." You can't deny the way it drives you crazy when he presses down on the outline of his cock inside you. Your just afraid you might loose your mind after how he made you cum earlier. "You think you can handle it?" His hand leaves the imprint and wonders to you breast, pinching your nipple and making your hips halt as you lean into his touch. "Ah~" he moans, "my Love is so sensitive."

He takes back the dominance in a second flat (as if he ever let it slip away). He wraps his arms around your waist and begins pounding into you, relishing in the way he can see his cocks outline just above your pussy before it's hidden by your belly fat. "That's it, Sweetheart. Just like that..." Your walls flutter around him, earning a low moan.

Wordlessly, you remove one of your hands form their tight grasp on the straps of his tank top and toward your stomach.

"Can you take that? You sure, Precious?"

"Yeah," you brokenly whimper that you, "wanna feel it. Wanna feel you." You both whine as you put pressure down, and his hips falter ever so slightly. Tears are building up in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, and he leans off the back of the couch to kiss your cheeks as they fall, treasuring the saltiness.

You let your legs fall from the upright position, and he wraps them around him, pulling you all the closer as he fucks into you, and you feel it even more as he keeps a hand on your lower stomach. "Mars-"

"Hold it." He knows by now that you're about to cum, and he's still technically punishing you. "Don't cum yet, don't do it."

You prop your head over his shoulder, wrapping your hands up in the back of his hair. The harder it gets, the harder you clench, and it only builds you up faster. "Baby, please..." You cry, tugging his hair.

"Hold it, Sweetie. You can do it. If you cum, I'm not letting you catch your breath."

"Feels too good!" Your hands rake down his back, leaving angry red lines in your wake. "I can't-"

"You can," he hisses as you mark up his back, "you can take it, Princess. My Princess can take it. I know you can."

His words give you the will to hold back the pleasure, biting gently into his shoulder to hold back your loud noises. "Good girl. You're there, right? I know you wanna cum so bad, huh?"

"Please, can I?" You sniffle, pushing back off his shoulders to face him, brain foggy and excited at the words that leave his lips. You trail your arms down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "God," you start moving your hips with his the moment you see him. His own tears are welling up, face flushed, lips swollen from physically biting back his moans. "My pretty boy, you-Fuck!" He slams up into you, moaning openly as you praise him. "Mars Baby, you fuck me so good! Take such good care of me," you cradle his hot face in your shaking hands, struggling to hold your orgasm back and still function.

"I'm going to fucking fill you up, Angel." He's already more than halfway to that promise, watching as you stare down at him, keeping your hands on his face so lovingly as he pounds you mercilessly. "Want you to cum with me. Want you to cream on my cock."

You nod, managing to hold back most of your yells as he ups the force: holding you from bouncing with one hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. "Please, Hwa... fuck me full. Wanna be full of you."

His hand slips down from your hip and to your abused clit, and you can't hold back as you cum- forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him as they threaten to roll back. He pulls your head to his and moans loudly into your lips, continuing to thrust as his warm seed fills you up.

He pulls back as darkness starts to cloud your vision, sweet praises followed by the shallow, heavy breaths of the both of you. You shiver in his hold, tears soaking the fabric of the couch that you now have your face smushed against.

"God," he whines, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. "My little fucking tease."

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ our name ] n. hischier

day six of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : dad!Nico Hischier x mom!reader

summary : Nico and (Y/N) celebrate their first Christmas with their daughter

warning(s) : mentions of pregnancy but besides that ... extremely fluffy & very short

author’s note : girl dad!nico has a very special place in my heart and i realized that i haven't written anyone having a baby so ... here we go

༺═──────────────═༻

A year ago, they didn’t even know they were going to even have a baby. They found out about their daughter about three weeks after they celebrated Christmas in Switzerland with Nico's family.

She was six weeks along when they went to the doctor to confirm that she was pregnant. Now they're celebrating their first Christmas together as a family in Newark after welcoming Elena into their lives in early September.

Elena won't remember this Christmas, but they will. (Y/N) and Nico went a little overboard with shopping for their daughter even though she's only three months old. They know that their friends bought a couple of things for her as well so Elena is getting spoiled.

As soon as their daughter is awake and calmed down after waking up and screaming, (Y/N) and Nico go into the living room. A sleepy Elena is in her mother's arms.

"Lena, look," (Y/N) gasps as she gets down on her knees next to the lit up Christmas tree with presents on the ground beneath it. "Santa came."

She sits her daughter up on her lap and smiles.

They go through the motions of helping Elena open her presents and acting surprised at what is wrapped up in the wrapping paper. She finds it entertaining and they take turns holding her and helping her.

(Y/N) is taking a picture of Nico as he helps Elena open one of the boxes. Inside is mini Devils gear that she didn’t know about. She lowers the phone and watches as Nico pulls out all the gear.

“I got you your own jersey,” Nico says to his daughter. “It might be a little big on you at first but you’ll grow into it. The onesie is absolutely going to be worn at some point in the next week, maybe underneath the jersey. That is all up to your mom.”

When Nico pulls out the red jersey, she sees the little ‘C’ on the chest. ‘Daddy’ is in place of Hischier on the back above the big 13. She tears up at the thought of Elena wearing the jersey to one of Nico’s game. Probably the first game she goes to.

Elena reaches out and grasps the jersey. She smiles and looks up at her dad. (Y/N) makes sure to get a picture of this moment even though she is looking through tears.

“I didn’t know you were getting that,” (Y/N) says from her spot on the couch. Nico looks up at her while Elena holds the jersey in her hands.

“I wouldn’t have gotten it if I knew it was going to make you cry,” Nico comments as the tears slip down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry.”

She wipes away the tears and smiles. “Happy tears,” she assures him. “Just thinking about the first time she’s going to wear it and I can’t wait. I get to hold her at the glass while you warm up on the ice and I can just imagine you skating up to her and saying hi through the glass. It got to me a little much for me.”

Nico smiles and gets off the ground. A happy Elena plays with one of the new toys she got while Nico sits next to his wife. “I can’t wait for that day,” he tells her. “I’ve been waiting for that day and I thought Elena should rep some Devils gear for her first game. It would make me so happy to see the two of you wearing my number, and you wearing our name.”

(Y/N) is pretty sure she has never been more in love with Nico Hischier than she is in this moment. She married him and had a baby with him, but the little jersey he got for their daughter to wear to her first hockey game has got her falling in love with him all over again.

“I was just going to get her a Hischier jersey,” she admits. “The ‘daddy’ on the back is amazing. Everyone is going to know that her daddy is the captain of the best team in the league and one of the best players in the NHL.”

A little smile forms on Nico’s lips and she mirrors it, just without the dimple. “Gotta make sure everyone knows how cool her dad is,” he teases. She laughs and Nico cups her jaw. “One of these days we’re going to make the playoffs again and you’ll get one of those cool jackets that the wives and girlfriends get.”

“Maybe I’ll get a jersey that says ‘wifey’ on it until then,” she replies. “How would you feel about that?”

“We might have to buy another ‘daddy’ jersey if that happens.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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[seungxstar]

! // ➶┊Christmas Cake

bebe!bada x bebe!fem reader

a/n : 🦢 anon I love you for this idea, this isn't a headcanon and it's shorter LOL

(if you see this feel free to send me asks and give me opinions!!)

How I think your girlfriend Bada would be making a cake for the girls to celebrate Christmas. (I love this sm I might make a full fic out of this instead of just a drabble)

Christmas was rolling around, bada wanted to bake a cake as a surprise for the girls, but you don't really get the said surprise since you're living with her and is basically there for the making of it.

But, that also meant that you could see her make the cake in real time, which on it's own, is already quite the gift, since the both of you have been busy with SWF2 and the tour.

You've seen your girlfriend cook a couple of times, but every time she ties her dyed hair into a messy bun, you simply can't help but admire her.

From the first day you met her when you stepped into her dance class till now, the admiration and heart fluttery feeling never expired. In fact, when the two of you finally got together, you actually think the said feelings only got stronger.

"Love?" Bada chuckled, looking up from the recipe book. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You quickly shook your head and stared down at the table, flustered.

"Do you want to make it with me?"

You shot your head up and instantly nodded.

When you walked into the kitchen, she puts you in between her and the kitchen counter.

"You're so cute." She beamed, ruffling your hair. "But let's get the cake done before I get too distracted, yeah?"

You didn't know that something as simple as making a cake with Bada made you feel things you didn't know you could feel.

The way Bada had her hand on your waist while opening the lower cupboard so the edges of it wouldn't hit you when she was opening it,

to the way Bada smiled and she took a picture of you when you were trying the frosting and got a little on the side of your lips, saying "We'll look back at it at some point..." Before changing that picture as her wallpaper.

Everything simply felt right.

Even while you two were enjoying the Christmas celebration with the rest of the girls, Bada never failed to make your heart flutter.

When Bada left her seat to go get plates for the cake, she gave you a light peck on your forehead which had you in nothing but a flustered mess.

"Aww, Unnie is shy! Look at her!" Lusher giggled before taking a picture of the sight.

"That's the power of Bada Lee... One peck and unnie's in shambles." Tatter said, turning to Lusher.

You could hear bada's laughter from the kitchen as she walked back with the plates.

"Merry Christmas, Love."

"Merry Christmas, Bada."

I think I went overboard but oh well. Merry Christmas.

[wolfpackss]

Hi, if you can, please write something about Seth Clearwater imprinting with a very playful girl who loves to tease him and make him shy and nervous like lifting his shirt or kissing his cheeks, or else a scenario where they go to a school dance together and he declares his old crush on her. Feel free to change the things you want, thank you so much❤️

I love love love Seth! I had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you so so so much for requesting something. I’m new at this and English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. As you can see I went a little overboard with this one haha! Hope you enjoy!

“Are you serious? You wanna take me to the dance?” Seth could feel his cheeks warm up and he began stuttering a little. “I mean, if you want to. If you don’t that’s okay, it’s just I mean” Seth rambled on and it made you giggle a little. The last dance of the year, your last year. Your last chance to tell him how you feel. “I mean it’s the last dance and I’d like to spend it with my best friend” Seth blushes as he finishes his sentence. You slightly wince at the last two words but manage to smile. “Last dance, Seth. You and me” you share a smile.

You and Seth have a little complicated relationship. You are playful, sarcastic and very spontaneous while he’s very shy, quiet and soft. He’s always nervous about everything, even if it’s just talking to you. You are just friends but that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for the boy. The feelings started very early on in your friendship. You saw him evolve from a boy into a man.

Little did you know he’s feeling the exact same thing. He’s always so shy but knew you were right for him the moment he saw you and it all became clear the older you became. You are no longer the little girl he fell in love with, you are the woman he loves. And he plans to do that for the rest of his life, starting with the night of the dance. The perfect setting.

Three weeks later you’re waiting in the living room of your home with your parents who are beaming at you. “You look so beautiful sweetheart!” Your father holds up his phone to take picture number 300. You roll your eyes at their enthousiasme. “He’s here!” Your mother rushes to the front door to let Seth in. He walks in and you let out a small gasp as you see him. He’s wearing a black tux with a white undershirt and black bow tie. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small box in the other. He hands your mother the flowers, giving her a small kiss on the cheeks and shakes your fathers hand.

“You look absolutely stunning” he leans down to kiss your cheek and you beam up at him. “I know right, I’m wearing a dress. I mean, that’s something” you joke and he smiles back. You look at the box in his hands and he opens it. A gorgeous corsage is laying there, matching the color of your dress. “How did you -“ you abruptly look at your mom who looks away sheepishly. You and Seth grin at each other.

The entire evening is full of laughter and jokes. You tease Seth throughout the evening and he just blushes or looks away smiling. When the dj announces the last dance of the evening, Seth takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. “No stepping on my feet, Clearwater!” You laugh at him as he puts both his hands on your hips. He softly squeezes them as he laughs with you. “Just dance, beautiful. And listen to the lyrics while your at it” he whispers in your ear.

The song More than friends by Meghan Trainor and Jason Mraz comes on and when I listen to the lyrics I softly laugh. “You trying to tell me something or?” You try to joke but you fail miserably when he looks at you with a small smile. Your heart starts beating rapidly against your chest and you can feel your hands become sweaty.

“Yeah I am, beautiful. I have this stupid crush on you that turned into so much more. This is my last chance to tell you how I feel and I though maybe this would be the right moment. I love you, I think I always have. I don’t want to be your best friend, I want to be more. I want be the one you think about when you wake up and when you go to sleep. I want to be the guy that you point at and say “that’s my man” when you’re with your friends. But i get it if you don’t want that or if you don’t see me like that, I mean” you cut of his rambling and push your lips to his.

“I’m yours Seth, always have been” he smiles and kisses you again.

Last dance, last chance. And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[ask-zacharies-snackarie]

BODYSUIT bodysuit BODYSUIT

I finally got around to it. I said I was gonna do it and now I am. Under the read more.

First four pictures are the old suit, last three are of the new one.

The bodysuit used to be fucking BAD. In the desire to find lightweight fabric that wouldn't overheat me, I went and got this fabric that was.. just the worst. It was too thin, not very stretchy, and it RAN.

Any raw edges exposed to a force stronger than a gentle tug would separate and become unrepairable. Imagine your costume fucking separating at the seams cause something pulled on it a little.

I got most of the way before I said "this sucks ass, I'm restarting." So I went to Joanne's and dropped another 70 dollars on this wonderful modal knit thats discontinued as fuck. It's thick and doesn't show sweat until it's reaching clinical levels due to the modal fabric on one side and the spandex on the other! It absorbs it and disperses it so it doesn't show on the outside.

I definitely did get hot in that costume, but way less than I expected. Honestly I got cold more often than not @_@

N e way it's just a bodysuit pattern I modified to add the split in the middle. It clasps at the bottom and I think I went overboard with the snaps cause for some reason I was convinced they would pop so easily. They didn't lmao.

The gloves on this costume are part of the sleeves, so I can't free my hands lest I want to take off the whole suit.

The buttons are 3d modelled by me, printed, sanded, and painted by hand because I was pissed that no one sold buttons that looked right and I refused to compromise 💪💪

Evidently as you can tell, the ruffles are also sewn into the collar and actually did not give me any issue with the stretch when putting on the suit!

[indecenthoney]

"The Puppy Problem"

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

There comes a time in your life when baby fever hits you a little too hard. Leaving you fully convinced that the only thing you need right now is to have a child. To the point, that you get a little too obsessed and the only possible cure is to actually get the deed done. This is exactly what happened to my girlfriend who has continually tempted me this entire week. Despite us both working, I have explained that raising a child takes more than just two paychecks. It includes saving and planning and a whole lot of other adult stuff. In her defense, she responded that it would be more than enough and threw in some "girl math" to sweeten the deal. If you had only seen the horrendous look on my face as she explained her reasoning.

"I-... No... What? No... We are not having a baby... Now can you please get off me? I know what you're trying to do and I am not going to breed you in the heat of the moment... Especially, if you just want to have a baby... Why not? It's because we're still young... You can barely get out of bed... How do you expect us to function? Okay okay... I know our kids are going to look cute... but that's not a reason to have a kid right now... No... And that's final... Ughhh c'mon don't look at me like that... Seriously... No... It's too soon... You're not going to let this go, are you? Okay... I am going to regret this but... This is how it's going to go... We'll adopt a puppy and if we raise him right... and you can prove that you'll be a good mother then I will think about having a baby... Emphasis on thinking about it... Deal? Alright alright... get off me now... Hey! Hey! Stop grinding... Fucking sneaky..."

After working out the details of the arrangement, I dropped by our local animal shelter to adopt a puppy. During the adoption, they had mentioned him being 4 weeks old and a golden retriever mix. Not that I had much intention of choosing a specific breed, but more so choosing him because he looked like the sun. Golden fur and a jovial personality. If we wanted a kid so badly, I thought the pup should also be similar to the mother. In all honesty, I've always seen my girlfriend as a sort of pup herself seeing as how she circles around me every time I am home. Maybe having a pup will bring out a motherly side of her. Who knows? She might turn out to be a wonderful mother. On our way home, I bought a few things: puppy bowls, puppy food, collars, a puppy bed, and even puppy toys. You can tell that I went a little overboard with all of this. After carrying all the things in, my girlfriend comes rushing to the door all excited. She played with Sol for hours and even took naps together. Completely tuckered out. We named him "Sol" by the way. After tucking them both in, I snapped a few pictures before hitting the hay myself. A few weeks passed by, and we soon learned that raising a puppy wasn't all fun and games. It also meant bringing him to the vet, cleaning up his mess, and working around our schedules to give him the attention he needed. It left us little to no time to do the things we wanted.

"Hey hun... I'm going to take Sol for a walk... No, it's okay you should rest... I think you need it... You look really tired... Get some more sleep and I'll handle Sol... I know I know... I want to cuddle too but Sol needs his walk right now or he's going to get antsy... You know how he gets... Now get some rest, I'm going for a jog and will be back in two hours, alright? Love you too..."

As Sol got bigger, he became a little too much for her. The little guy grew up to be very active and would often tire her out when it came to playtime. Luckily enough, I was able to keep up with Sol and used our time together to get the extra cardio in. Eventually, as the weeks passed, it would mostly be me and Sol spending time together leaving her to be home alone most of the time. It sort of led me to neglect her. Not that I knew, it was more of her not wanting to complain. Her mood quickly soured whenever I played or praised Sol. I would often find her tugging at my shirt but never really saying what she wanted. I would have sat down and checked on her, but Sol was already pulling on his leash for his walk. After our regular two-hour session, Sol walked off to his bowl to gulp down some water before knocking out in his doggy bed. After reaching the living room, I soon found my girlfriend completely hammered after nearly completing an entire bottle of liquor.

"Woah woah... What's the occasion? I didn't know we were celebrating... Jeez, you nearly finished the whole thing... I can't believe you're drinking alcohol... To be honest, I'm surprised you're still standing after all that... Hun? You... seem... mad... Why are you mad? What? Wait a minute... Hold on... There's no need to shout... and this was your idea, wasn't it? You're the one that wanted a kid so badly... I was only giving us a test run... H-hun? Awww hun... There's no need to cry... I'm sorry... Okay okay... I'm starting to get it... You must've been... really... lonely, huh? Drinking your sorrows away... What? Did Sol make you jealous? Yeah? See? And parenting is a whole other ball game... The baby would keep us busy 24/7... We wouldn't even have time to cuddle... What am I going to do with you? Mmm... I have an idea... Follow me... C'mon right this way... Ah, don't worry about him... Sol is going to be out for a couple of hours... More than enough to make up for lost time... Hahahaha... It's fine... It's fine... Let me take care of you, okay?"

Fuck. In the end, I was so focused on raising Sol that I ended up neglecting her own feelings. Even if I did have good intentions, I guess a part of me really wanted it to work out knowing how badly she wanted a kid. But seeing her this sad broke my heart. I wanted to make it up to her. Who knows how long she must've been feeling this way? After entering our room, I quickly pushed her against the door. Locking lips; intertwining ourselves. Pining for one another as if we haven't seen each other in ages. As cheesy as it may sound, I needed her like I needed air. It had been quite a while since I last tasted her sending shivers down my spine. The urge to take a bite out of her. To hear her scream my name in pain and pleasure. And though I hesitated, I would soon feel her hands pulling me in. Tempting me to do whatever I please on a condition. It being that all the attention in the world must be placed on her. No phone call or emergency could distract me from her gaze. And so I bite. Not a second wasted before pressing my lips against hers; muffling her moans. I acted on my excitement. Leaving her literally breathless. Abruptly, I retreat giving her some way to catch her breath. Only to see the desperate look in her eyes as I pull away. Longing for me to fill the void that I had placed.

"You know... You're really cute when you look up at me like that... Hun? Hahahah... There's not a single thought behind those pretty puppy eyes of yours, huh? Alright... C'mon, stand up... We can't have you melting in my arms just yet... Follow me... Mhm... Sit right here... Let's just take these off, yeah? What pretty little panties you have on... Hm? What're we doing in front of the mirror? Well... You're just going to sit down and see for yourself... Fuck... me... This wet already? Just from a little kissing? That's so embarrassing... Put it in? Hahahah... Sweetie... There's no need to rush... Of course, I can slide my fingers in... It's just a matter of if I want to... God... You're just soaking right through them... Look at the mirror... See? Aren't you fucking pretty... Now now... If you even think about looking away, I'll stop completely... Yeah? Good... girl... That's it... Mmm... Look at how leaky you've become... So naughty... It's okay... It's understandable... I haven't had much time to touch myself either, you know? So I know what you're going through... That being said, I'll stop teasing... Thank you for waiting so patiently... Good things come to good girls that wait, no? And you're a good girl, are you not? Exactly... I'm glad you think that because I have a little something something for you... Mhm... A collar... Pretty, right? There's no need to be shy... As soon as you put it on I'll give you what you want, deal? Hahahah... See? Nothing to be ashamed about... Now... Why don't we fill you with fingers you love so so so much... Ohhh fuck... Too much? You say that but you're not telling me to stop, are you? Let's go a little deeper... Fill those pretty little holes... Mmph... Hahaha... Yeah? That's my girl... Shhhhh shhhhh it's okay... It's feels good, doesn't it? Look at you... gripping around my fingers... I know you missed me... but I'm right here hun... I can barely pull my fingers back... Don't wanna let go, huh...? Such a needy little girl... "

After seeing how sensitive she was from just the rubbing, I opted to taking a much slower approach. It would have been boring to have her concede so soon. Knowing that, I guided my middle finger down; easing her in until she was ready for another. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as the second pressed up into her walls. Her once empty cunt now filled to the brim causing her to throw her head back. Shallow breathes to shakey motions. My other hand pulling her back into the gaze of the mirror. Forcing her to watch as I toy with her for my enjoyment. Stuttering moans and heavy breaths escape her lips. Failing to communicate between my pulsing fingers. My arms and legs coiled around her preventing any chance of escape.

"Hahahahaha... Uhm... What was that? Hun... You're gonna have to pull yourself together if you want the slightest chance of me understanding you... And what do you think you're doing? Stopping me all of a sudden... Ohhhh? A break? But we just started... I mean... This is what you wanted, no? And now you're telling me to stop? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't finger fuck you senseless right now... Huh? You're going to... what? Pee...? Hahahah... And, so what? I'm not scared of little waterworks... Awwww is the filthy little pup gonna piss herself... You poor thing... Must've been all that alcohol... What a way to bite yourself in the ass... Please? And if I say no? What if I wanna see you make mess out of yourself...? Hm? Anything? Really? Fine fine fine... You have yourself deal... Let's go to the bathroom, shall we? Oop- Before I forget... Where do I put that leash of mine? There we go... Just gonna put this on... and mhm... ready to go... Huh? Well... I'm bringing you to the bathroom, of course, silly... Joking? Me? Hahhaha... No no I'm dead serious... And all you have to do is keep your end of the deal... C'mon quickly... We wouldn't want to ruin the sheets more than we already have... The sooner we get this over with the better... So get on all fours... After all, you're just dumb little pup that doesn't know any better... How can I trust you to piss properly when I can't even leave you alone for a second? Now... be a good girl and crawl for me..."

With some reluctance, she made her way off the bed and to the floor. Her back perfectly arched leaving room for temptation to fuck her right then and there. She attempted to quickly scurry off to the bathroom to avoid any further embarrassment. But was brought to a complete halt as I tugged on her leash. In her confusion, I once again pulled to signal her back to me. Her gaze avoiding eye contact at all costs whilst questioning my motives.

"Well, aren't you excited? Hahahah... There's no need to rush... You should really know better, hun... We can't have you running off, can we? Let's take it slow... Mhm... You're doing such a good job... Almost there... Fuck... It's cute... The way your ass shakes with each step... I'm starting to think we should collar you more often... Would you like that? Hahaha I'm just kidding... Kinda... Here we are... Woah... Not yet sweetheart... You need to ask for permission... and then I'll let you piss... Good things come to good girls that wait, remember? Need to make sure that you're trained... Shake. You heard me... Shake. Good girl... Such a quick learner... Alright... Sit. Oh? Alright alright... Bark. What's the hold-up? C'mon, hun... Bark for me... Hahahah... Fuck... No no, you did good... You're allowed to piss now... but you have to piss like a mutt... Yes... Still on all fours... Raise your leg and piss... Embarrassing? Well... I could always stick my fingers in and mess with your insides until you piss yourself... No? Alright... so do your best..."

Relieving herself quickly took a turn for the worst as the golden liquid dribbled down her thigh. A rollercoaster of emotions were displayed before rivers of tears ran down her face. I found myself conflicted between guilt and the sick kick of her own embarrassment. Nonetheless, I was proud of her and praised her for her efforts. After wiping the tears, I hurridely ran a bath for the both us to better unwind from this interesting little experience. Unfortunately, my member was still fully erect. A particular part of me that couldn't really be ignored as it throbbed against her ass. I sat there in silence trying to repent for my crimes. But even then, she was gentle with me; easing me from my suffering. My cock that felt the cool sensation of the bath soon enveloped by her pulsing, hot cunt. Speaking too soon, I experienced a more insufferable punishment. We laid there motionless. God. I wanted to fuck her. But to risk ruining her mood even further would be a fate worse than hell itself. I was unsure of my disposition. Was she mad? Was that too much? I pulled gently on her collae to reveal the nape of her neck. Placing kisses awaiting some sort of response.

"I-... Uhm... S-sorry I really don't know what came over me... and if you're upset I completely understan- Huh? What... am I waiting for? What do you mean?"

My mind went blank over the course of this conversation. I was completely perplexed. Even after pissing herself, she had the audacity to question my determination. She sat there. Unsure of whether I was going to keep my word and take care of her or have her do all the work herself. In that instance, it would be said that I had completely lost, but I had my own pride for these sorta things. I honestly didn't give her enough credit. She wasn't just some puppy girl or frail princess. She was a lady. A lady with needs. It's not something complicated like a dog eat dog world. It's simpler than that. It is to use or be used. And how am I a man, if I were not to satisfy and fulfill those very needs. Fingers slipped through narrow openings and hooked their way around her collar pulling her down even deeper into my hips. The once, cold tension had subsided. Water violently splashed; spilling out from the sides due to shaking hips. The shrill shriek of her voice slightly choking. Truly a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Mmmph... Fuck... You don't understand how much I've missed this, baby... Aaa... God... I-I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I had spend another... FUCKING... week of not being able to touch you... Hahahah and from the looks of it... You feel the same way, huh? The way your pussy tightens every time I pull harder on your collar... Awww... Speak up, princess... Tell me how much you love it... Right here... Right now... I'll even reward you... Give you as many puppies as you want... Breed you over... and over... Fill your pretty little holes to the brim... No? Hahahaha a little too late for a no... A bit heartless even... Stopping me this late into the game... Do you not want puppies anymore? Not right now? Here I thought our kids were going to look cute... Well, you better do something quick... cause the closer I get I'm starting to think I really do want kids..."

Her splendid body towered over me as I lay watching in the tub. She straddled me but leaned in for a kiss before guiding my cock back into her. And here I thought, I had scared her with the whole bit but maybe she did want kids after all. At this point, I didn't really care. Nor was I in any position to stop her. Something was a bit off. A bit tighter than usual? I wanted to move but she had my arms in lockdown, asking for another minute to adjust. Even just kicking my leg up a bit would cause her to bite down into my shoulder. Maybe she came? After a while, I decided to do the moving on my own. Slow, shallow strokes. Fucking into her as if we had all the time in the world. Her bites slowly transitioned into moans muffled into my shoulder. She sunk deeper into my arms; placing kisses on her forehead. Reassuring her to leave everything to me. Nearing my limit, I grasped her waist with both hands before cumming into her. A euphonic blend of moans bounced off the bathroom walls which soon after was filled with laughter.

"Hahahah... I felt like I came buckets... That's kinda gross actually... I'll shut up... Hahahah... Youuuuu okay? We really have to find time for ourselves... I could always have the neighbor kids to walk Sol around... To be honest, why haven't we done that sooner? Right? Hahahah... Uhm I'm sorry for neglecting you... I should've checked on you sooner... Silly... I love you... I know how important having a kid was to you... so I wanted it to work... You know? I'm glad we got this sorted out... Now let's get you cleaned up! I don't want you catching a cold... And maybe... grab you a plan B... What do you mean no? You want to have a kid? But I came in you... I came in your... Oh... OHHHH! No wonder you were all flinch-y... That's kinda hot..."

After cleaning ourselves up, we took our time in bed to cuddle and talk about everything that happened. Luckily, Sol was still sleeping soundly in his bed by the time we were finished. It gave me more than enough time for us to reconnect and flirt. A kiss here and there. A little, spicy makeout session that almost turned into another round of explicit scenes. But I digress. I would even go on to tease her by calling her a "good girl". In my excitement, I guess I was a bit loud. That was when we heard scratching at the door. It was Sol pawing and whining wondering where we were. After opening the door, he would rush onto the bed and snuggle up to the mom. I quickly followed and joined the party. The three of us were happy and tuckered out after a long day. Who knows? Maybe one day soon, I wouldn't mind having a kid. Or two. Or... three.

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

With love and lust,

Honey

[littlesniggy]

Daddy issues

Happy Valentine's Day! New story for Sakazuki. I just can't stop it. Hope you enjoy this piece of sm*t. Warnings: older man / younger woman, mentor / mentee, p in v s*x, sm*t, kinda childhood tra*ma Relationship: Sakazuki x female reader Word count: 3.7k (kinda went a little overboard)

This was wrong. This was so wrong. This was so, so wrong! But it felt so unbefuckinglievable good! So, was it really wrong? His hands clawed at the armrest of his office chair, his usually harsh eyes now looking down at you hooded. He had never imagined what you looked like on your knees between his legs, struggling to take his hard dick into your mouth but by god he would never forget this image ever again. Until now he didn’t know it was something he needed and he wished he could take a picture of you sucking him off so he could cherishthis moment forever.

And yet, the internal conflict was apparent to anyone who might’ve seen him right now. 

A feint blush was still visible on your cheeks, a doubtful yet exciting feeling raging inside your body. Sakazuki couldn’t hide a mischievous grin when you had unpacked his member and your head started to glow in the deepest shade of red he had ever seen. The surprise and embarrassment were too apparent on your face. You didn’t even try to hide it. 

It took some time before you swallowed the lump in your throat and put your tongue out, licking over the thick mushroom head. With a quick look at the fleet admiral, you got the reassurance to continue. You wrapped a hand around the base of his member, feeling the smooth skin under your touch and a slight pulsing. You moved your hand up and down carefully, uncertain of how he liked it. Naturally, you’ve never talked about this before. 

“Harder.” He ordered, his voice not leaving any room to argue and it send an excited shiver down your spine. You, of course, obeyed his command and your grip around him tightened, spreading some of his pre-cum over his entire length, creating a slick sound whenever your hand glided over his erection. 

When you felt confident enough, you eventually opened your mouth wide to let the tip slip between your lips. Sakazuki’s dick twitched excitedly in your mouth you were certain you heard him silently sigh in relief. What a dirty old man….you internally chuckled but were reminded very quickly that you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you so weren’t you just as dirty?

It was uncomfortable to have him fill out your entire mouth and your jaw got sore rather quickly. You probably could’ve just continued with your hands but your pride would not allow you to back down now. You were obviously struggling but Akainu would be an idiot to tell you to stop. 

He lifted his hand but hesitated for a moment before he placed it behind your head, guiding it gently while stroked your hair. It was very uncharacteristic of him to be so soft but he knew he would get rough with you rather sooner than later so you should appreciate this treatment while it lasted. 

When he pushed your head a little bit further down your gag reflex kicked in and you instinctively clawed at his muscular thighs while tears started gathering in the corners of your eyes. Saliva ran down your chin but you couldn’t really do anything about it since Sakazuki didn’t let you remove your head. So, you had to endure him pushing your further and further down his dick; not violently but it was awkward and uncomfortable nevertheless. 

Sakazuki watched how you struggled while he pushed you down more and more, inch by inch. He didn’t comment on the fact he wasn’t even halfway down and you were already struggling. The gagging sounds that were coming from your small form were like music to his ears and your tiny hands that dug into his thighs gave the extra kick. In the back of his mind he thought that it served you and your bratty mouth right that he stuffed it with his dick. 

“Good girl.” He murmured, eliciting a needy sounding whimper from you. 

“Though I never took you for such a slut. Do you like sucking my dick? Is it something you’ve thought about before?” he teased, not letting you take a breath and retort something. Instead, he pushed you down even further until his dick went down your throat. Panic settled in and you tried to push yourself off of him – unsuccessfully. Your hands started shoving at him and you glared at him through tearful eyes. More and more saliva leaked out of your mouth and down your chin, making you feel slightly humiliated by the man in front of you. 

“Relax.” Sakazuki simply said but he almost choked on his own words when you swallowed around him, your throat tightening around his dick oh so sweetly, and a challenging glint in your teary eyes. He gripped your hair harshly and pulled you off, an angry look on his face. You, on the other hand, took in a deep breath, your lungs finally being filled with the much-needed air again. 

“I swear, if it wasn’t you I would fuck your mouth until you’d lose consciousness.” He growled.

You wiped the saliva away from your chin with the back of your hand and wiped away the tears as well. 

“I thought you’d like it…” you innocently replied. Sakazuki pressed his lips together tightly, biting back a remark. Of course, he liked it but when the fuck did you have to surprise him like this? He would not show any weakness in front of you by releasing his load early. 

You leaned back in and pressed a kiss against the tip of his dick before your tongue licked at the pre-cum. Other than the taste it reminded you of your childhood. To be more precise, of one of the first memories you’ve had of Sakazuki. He had given you a strawberry ice cream in a cone. You haven’t even talked to the man yet but here you were, eating ice cream while he, Sengkoku and Kong were talking in Kong’s office. You later found out that he only gave you the ice cream because Sengoku ordered him to. 

You didn’t really care what they were talking about but you noticed their looks every now and then on you. And who could blame them? Your clothes were covered in blood and dirt yet there was no scratch on your tiny body, meaning this was not your blood. You were found by the marine during a raid of a pirate island and taken in. Sakazuki suggested they just kill you since you were a “pirate” but Sengkoku would not let him. Instead, you were taken with them on their navy ship and to Marineford.,

It was later decided that you’d stay here and be trained as a marine and Sakazuki was in charge of your training. To no one’s surprise he objected but was overruled by Kong. 

Sakazuki didn’t hide the fact that he despised you. His training was harsh and on more than one occasion your were close to death. But the more you trained and the older you got, the stronger you became and so Sakazuki’s disdain for you turned into somewhat acknowledgment. You weren’t sure if he was actually proud of you becoming stronger or if he was just proud of himself. You never questioned it. You were happy that he didn’t seem to hate you anymore. 

The more time passed, the more comfortable you became around him and you somewhat saw him as a father figure. You never dared to call him dad, too scared of the consequences.

Of course, when you became a teenager, you became more difficult. Sakazuki’s fuse was short anyway but with a bratty teenager around he was even more annoyed. And so, his training became harder as well. He plagued you with so many exercises, drills, and whatnot. You two got into screaming matches multiple times a day. Many marines were worried about your safety but nobody interfered. 

When Sakazuki was promoted to admiral, you were 15. He spent less time with you but you were glad about it. Over the years, you had developed a bitterness and repulsion towards the man to the point where you wanted to hurt him. You knew you couldn’t do it. Not because you were reluctant but because he would beat you senseless. You needed to become stronger. So, you ran away.

When you saw him again years later, all the anger came bubbling back up and you couldn’t hold yourself back and attacked him. By now, you had become a pirate with a decent bounty which made the fleet admiral furious. All the hard work he had put into your training has been for northing! He wanted to capture you. Shit, he wanted to kill you! But when he was pushing you to the ground, ready to strike, he couldn’t. He had cared for your (one way or another) for ten years and even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even himself, he had cared for you in some way. So, he opted to taking you in as a prisoner. 

He usually didn’t think twice about prisoners and simply send them to Impeldown but he had the urge to scream at you, to ask you what the hell was wrong with you. But you screamed back. And here you two were again, screaming at each other with nobody daring to interfere. Until you both were silent. Until you both had said everything you wanted to. Until there was simply nothing more to say. 

You were leaning against his giant desk, arms crossed angrily in front of your chest, a grim expression on your face. Sakazuki stood across from you, looking just as angry and his fingers digging into his enormous biceps. God, how much he wanted to just burn you and get on with his life. It would be so much easier if you were dead and not in Impeldown. He also would never admit this, but he’d have to think about what would happen to you at prison. Impeldown wasn’t necessarily a safe place, especially not for young women like you. 

Now, that he thought about it, you were not a child anymore, nor a bratty teenager. You were a bratty adult. A bratty, grown woman. Sakazuki realized, that he didn’t see you as the child he took care of anymore nor as a dirty pirate he needed to take down. Damn, he saw you as someone who could please him in the bedroom while screaming his name.  Fuck.

You used the silence to cool down and while your were able to gather your thoughts again you realized that you weren’t angry anymore. You had thrown everything you’ve had at the now fleet admiral and everything that was now left was hurt…

…and something else. Something, you couldn’t quite point out what it was but it felt somewhat familiar. You just hadn’t felt it in this kind of situation before. 

You heard Sakazuki sigh and march past you to his office chair where he sat down, his thumb and index finger rubbing at the bridge of his nose to make the headache you gave him go away. 

You didn’t turn around to look at him but you felt his eyes on you which gave you goosebumps. 

“What now?” you asked. There was another stretch of silence before the fleet admiral answered. 

“You will be sent to Impeldown.” He dryly replied, making you tense at his words. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“You have no choice, Y/n.” 

That was true yet you didn’t want to accept it. 

You turned around, now looking at the man. Sakazuki’s eyes never left you as you slowly rounded his desk to stand next to him. Even when he was sitting was he still taller than you. The fleet admiral turned his chair slightly to look at you, his expression as grim as ever, matching your own. 

You stepped forward, your knee slightly bumping against his leg. There was no explanation why you did it but the closer you got to him, the stronger this feeling you couldn’t decipher became: Attraction. Primal attraction, to be precise. You had the almost unhealthy desire to strip naked in front of him and let him have his way with you yet you knew this was forbidden. In a sense. Somewhat. Maybe. In your head. 

You were not related but it felt strange looking at him as anything but a father figure, even if he was a shitty father figure. You shouldn’t feel attracted to your default father yet you couldn’t deny how your thoughts turned dirty the longer you looked at him. You felt how his eyes were fixed on while your own took in small details of his body. For example, how thick and muscular his neck was, or how the tattoo perfectly complemented his skin, or how the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscles, or how you could make out the faint outlines of his member in his trousers. 

You should look away. You really should. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pry your eyes away from his crown jewels. 

“Want to tell me why you are staring at my crotch?” his voice was calm and you wanted to avert your eyes from his lap but his legs shuffling apart suggestively had you pause. Your heart started hammering in your chest, your mind racing at what you should do next. 

Your eyes dart up to his. You can’t read his expression but there is something….new in his eyes. It seems dark and primal and makes the small butterflies in your stomach go rampant. You stare into his eyes, unable to look away, feeling more and more insecure around him. He cocked his head slightly, trying to figure out if you will actually do it. You shouldn’t want to but he secretly hoped you’d still do it. 

You swallowed hard, clenching your fists while taking a deep breath. Then, you went down in front of him on your knees, body tense but your hormones were through the roof. Sakazuki’s eyes widen in disbelief but he kept quiet. Were you really doing this? Your hands on his pants were answer enough…

Sakazuki pulled you up by the hair, his pupils blown wide from arousal. Your lips were swollen and wet from sucking him just moments ago and you were out of breath. His hand let go of your hair and moved to your neck instead. He pulled you closer towards him, leaned down until your lips almost touched. 

You felt his free hand move to your waist and under your shirt; it was hot against your skin but not unpleasantly. He shortly caressed your waist before his hand moved to your stomach and the up, inching closer and closer to your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat when he touched you there and you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. 

Your lips crashed against his in a heated kiss. He grabbed your tit harshly and kneaded it. You mewled against his mouth, your own hands starting to hastily unbutton his floral shirt, revealing his trained body. Sakazuki growled against your lips before he removed your shirt and bra. He broke the kiss to appreciate the view in front of him but you didn’t give him too much time to do so. You leaned in and climbed onto his lap, your lips finding his neck while your hands roamed his torso. 

The fleet admiral grabbed your ass, making you moan against his skin. Shit, you were so horny. You strained your neck to reach his ear. Your teeth nibbled slightly at his earlobe before you whispered “please….touch me…..”. 

Sakazuki pushed you off him only to open your pants and pull them down. You barely had time to kick off your shoes before you stood completely naked in front of him. This time, he pulled you back onto his lap, both his hands grabbing your thighs and slowly moving them up, getting closer and closer to your wet core. 

You let your head fall forward and leaned your forehead against his chest when he finally touched you down there. Your breath was shaky when Sakazuki’s finger pressed against the small bud and started circling. Your hand moved down to his hard cock and moved it up and down around his length. 

The fleet admiral hissed at the pleasure. His thick finger started teasing your entrance before he entered you, your wet warmth enveloping his digit. You whimpered at the unfamiliar stretch but your hips quickly started moving against his finger and your own hand around his dick moved in tandem to his finger. 

It didn’t take long for Sakazuki to add a second and then a third finger, stretching you for his dick. 

“Shit….!” You breathed out, taking in a sharp breath in when he hit that special spot inside of you. 

“Fuck me!” you looked up at him almost desperately, lips red and pupils blown wide. Sakazuki’s dick twitched in your hand at your words and you didn’t have to ask him twice. He pulled his fingers out and swiftly lifted you up to place you on his desk, his huge body looming over yours. You felt tiny compared to him. Now, that the “deed” was getting closer, you got nervous. His fingers were big but his dick was on another level. 

Sakazuki pulled your hips closer to his own to the edge of the desk, the length of his dick pressing against your entrance. He rubbed his dick against your folds, his hands having an iron grip on your hips. 

The fleet admiral paused for a moment, looking at your flustered form on his desk, all naked and ready for him to take. But should he really do it? He still had the opportunity to end this, to close his pants and give you your clothes back before he had you taken to Impeldown. But this thought was swiftly thrown overboard when your hand reached out for him, asking him to come closer. 

Sakazuki leaned down and let you grab the back of his neck and pull him in into another heated kiss. He demanded you part your lips so he could explore your mouth while his hand lined his dick up with his entrance. 

“Take a deep breath” he murmured against your lips before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. 

Your entire body tensed at the intrusion and the pain and your nails dug into his skin until you were drawing blood. 

“Fuck…” you hissed, breaking the kiss and blinking the tears away that were about to roll down your cheeks. 

Sakazuki took in a deep breath as your tightness embraced him, forcing himself to control himself and not just start fucking you. Really, if you were anyone else he wouldn’t be so considerate but even his consideration had limits. You better got used to him or this wouldn’t be as pleasurable for you as it was for him.

“Relax.” He gave the very helpful advice and you wanted to punch him for that. You didn’t. Instead, you tried to heed his words and relax but it was easier said than done. Your grip on his neck loosened and you looked up at him, biting your lips anxiously. 

“C-can you….can you touch me?” God, how thrilled he was to hear you ask him that. He was tempted to ask you exactly what you wanted but he figured he shouldn’t push his luck and have you screaming at him again. So, he complied and his thumb found your clit, circling it again, making you relax under his touch. 

It didn’t take long until he pushed further inside of you, your juice coating his length, making it relatively easy for him to move. When he was halfway in, he pulled out until only the tip was left, then he pushed back in, this time until he bottomed out inside of you. A guttural moan was forced out of your body and your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. Sakazuki took this as a sign to start thrusting inside of you. He pulled out before his hips snapped back forth, rocking the entire desk with each thrust and making you moan and pant with lust. 

Akainu’s hand on your hip kept you in place while his other was still stimulating your clit, his eyes watching your messy state. Your boobs were wiggling in tandem to his thrusts, tempting him to catch one with his mouth but he didn’t. Instead, he moved your body to the side, placing your one leg against his chest, giving him a better angle as he resumed fucking you from the side. 

“Fuck….Sakazuki…!” you moaned, arching your back as he picked up his pace, his dick almost hammering into you, your brain slowly but surely waving goodbye as Akainu fucked you stupid. Sakazuki leaned down, stretching your leg uncomfortably far but you didn’t care. The new angle this created was enough to completely lose your mind and fully submit to the man above you. 

The fleet admiral grunted at your pussy sucking him in, your juice creating lewd sounds while he fucked into you. 

“I’m close…..!” you panted, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “Can I cum, please?” 

Shit, now you were asking him if you were allowed to cum? 

“Already?” he teased, stopping his onslaught at your pussy and instead moved sadistically slowly. You whined at his tempo and nodded, trying to move against him but he wouldn’t let you. 

“Since you asked me so nicely….not a chance.” Your expression dropped at his words, fearing what he had in stow for you. Sakazuki grabbed both your thighs and pressed your legs far apart, a devious grin on his lips. 

“You just need to be a good girl for me a little longer. Maybe then will I let you cum.”

[inactivewattpadauthor]

[Old]Erron Black x SF Reader

----------------------------- "Come on, Y/n, you look great!" Cassie snickered at you, secretly snapping a picture of you wearing...whatever the hell the females in the Black Dragon wear. Jacqui was still working on your outfit, trying not to laugh or make a comment.

"Cassie. I look like a whore." You blinked at her, unhappy about the whole situation.

You were dressed up like this because of a damn mission. And part of this was the plan. The Special Forces picked up suspicious activity happening in the Black Dragon, and your friend, Cassie, had the idea to have YOU get a disguise and go in. Since, you're anonymous to them.

At first it was suppose to be a joke, all of a sudden the general thought it was a good idea. Bad thing is, you didn't get a say in the plan. So now you're on your own. Good luck.

You exited the truck at the entrance of  the Black Dragon's camp. You were aware you weren't going to come back out alive, and free, but you see your two friends still laughing at your outfit.

"Good luck with the investigation, Y/n!" Jacqui cried in laughter, in the truck. "God, I have to send this to the boys!" Cassie said beside her. The truck sped off, leaving you to your mission. Thanks. You rolled your eyes.

You continued your path towards the center of the camp, already disgusted by the amount of trash there is. You had to watch out for broken beer bottles. It would be a shame if you already got injured within the first 20 seconds of your mission.

But then again, you were supposed to be a hacker, you worked indoors, not out.

You managed to make it to the center of camp. You observed the amount of black markets displayed everywhere in the large crowd of people. Now if you could just remain anonymous.

You spotted an isolated path that may keep you hidden. You may have a disguise, but what if it brought the wrong type of attention. You secretly went to it and started doing your spying.

You looked around to see any suspicious activity before you heard some loud conversation about Special Forces. Bingo! Maybe this'll answer all the questions.

There was nothing too useful in the conversation, just some bitching about Sonya and her ex. But then something came inA "Something for the special scums, Kano is plannin' to-"

Unfortunately, you couldn't hear the rest of the sentence. In fact, you got dragged way back from where you were. You weren't a good fighter either, but you were about to put up a fight.

A covered hand was quickly pressed against your mouth, preventing you to make any sound, as for the other arm, wrapped around your stomach to reduce your struggles.

"Now, now, princess, I'm doin' you a favor to not attract any attention. These aren't the type of guys that'll exactly...'help' you." Some man with a country accent spoke.

He had a point. You were on enemy territory. You stopped struggling, wanting to know who this strange, kinda charismatic, man is. He did let you go, believing you were calm.

You examined your attacker. Tall, country accent,  literally a cow boy, THE INFAMOUS ERRON BLACK?! Your e/c eyes widen, as your heart stopped.

"What's wrong? You look like you seen a ghost." Erron tilted his head to the side. "Y-You're Erron Black!" You stuttered. "Yes I am. And I suppose you're not from around here. State where you're from."

You silently gasped as you saw him rest his hand near his gun. You didn't know what to do in this position. Either way, you were probably going to die.

"I'm dead anyways, what's the point in telling you?" You grew a small pair and said. "Heh, Special Forces got a loyal one." How the hell-

"They weren't too slick dropping you off on our camp. Besides, don't you think you went a little overboard with the disguise?" You got tensed with his question, as he was observing your very explicit outfit. "I'll have you know this wasn't my idea! I would never dress like this in any occasion!"

"Well then," Erron adjusted his hat. "I see no point in taking your life. Besides, I'm already starting to like you. Come with me." You froze once more. Erron Black wants me to come with him?? Am I lucky or unlucky?

Erron noticed you weren't budging. "Do you want to go out there and get yourself hurt?" He asked. You focused back on him before doing what he said.

"So what's your name?" He smirked at you. "Uh, Y/n L/n." You answered, unsure if that was a good idea.

"Okay, Ms. Y/n, what do you do in the Special Forces?" Why is he asking me these questions? "I'm one of their hackers."

You stopped your tracks,  now wondering what was going on. "Where are you taking me?" You wrapped your arms around yourself, getting scared. "I'm escorting you out of here. It would be a shame if you end up in those filthy brothels, or maybe part of you is being sold." He said, keeping the same charming tone.

This...disturbed you. "Thanks." You said shyly. "No problem, my lady."

At the exit of camp, Erron turned towards you. "I gotta say, the next time I come across you, I'll probably keep you with me." He winked. You blushed, rolling your eyes at him. "Thanks for not shooting me." You sarcastically said.

"You're welcome." He walked back towards the broken fence. "Also, when your friends return, tell them to keep one eye open while sleeping." Erron said before tilted his head in a goodbye before walking off.

You blinked at his request before sitting down, thinking about how you made no progress while in here. I tried to tell them it wouldn't work out. *Sigh* I actually hope I see Erron next time, he's pretty cute.