#PLEASE FEED ME MORE I NEED YOU TO FILL THESE TAGS

[s0ull3ss-p3rs0n]

I am obsessed with a weirdly wholesome relationship between an ancient asf warlord and some guy that just, was there at the right moment.

And then there's that crazy girl yuri between an emo ghost boi and his robot gf (they are both some level of nonbinary fuck gender embrace insanity)

[bruhstories]

Bet I

p.2 here & p3. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: in-ho got a cat, and he needs a cat sitter while he is away on his business trip. who knew that meeting you would turn into a bet, a philosophy of what is moral and what is not?

pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader

warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader's background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, few mentions of Y/N (again, for plot purposes), pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: i have no idea how many chapters this will have, but i'm trying to write each chapter for each day of the games. it'll all make sense at the end lol. i tried to do as much research about seoul and south korea in general, so please be gentle! i'm just an eastern european gal

tagging: @full-sunnies @xodilfluvr

In-ho got a cat — a green-eyed, silver-tipped Korat he named Eunjoo. He thought about getting a dog, but dogs were high-maintenance, loyal and loving, and his job didn't allow him a loving pet. It didn't allow him to get attached to humans or animals. But Eunjoo was aloof and independent, and only rubbed against his leg when she wanted food. She refused to be handled and rarely played with the toys In-ho got her, but the cat was a necessary soul in his empty penthouse. It still wasn't enough to fill the hole in his blackened heart, but it was better than coming home to nothing and no one.

Trouble came when In-ho had to leave for eight days for the 32nd Squid Game. He quite obviously couldn't bring Eunjoo with him, and he couldn't let her starve, either. Not only that, but her litter boxes had to be cleaned regularly, and she needed fresh water daily, which left him with only one option — getting a cat sitter, as stupid as that sounded. In-ho felt ridiculous typing the post on a website for dog-walkers and pet sitters, but he did it nonetheless.

Businessman going on an eight day trip. In need of an experienced person to do home visits twice a day for my Eunjoo. 30,000 won per day. Based in Gangnam-gu, Seoul. 

He attached a picture of the cat along with his email, and waited. There was enough time to select a sitter before he left, and he browsed several profiles of pet sitters. Most of them had fantastic reviews, but asked for more money. Typical, In-ho thought. How typical for people to ask for more than necessary. It wasn't as though he wasn't willing to pay more — he had enough money, and would gladly spend it on Eunjoo — but it was the greed that disgusted him. The audacity to ask for 70,000 won a day to feed a cat and change her water was insane.

In-ho closed his laptop and left it on his coffee table in the living room, then walked into the kitchen to feed Eunjoo. She came from her hideout at the sound of a can opening, cautious of her surroundings, then rubbed her head against In-ho's leg, patiently waiting for her food. The cat didn't immediately eat. Instead, Eunjoo waited for her owner to sit down and have his dinner, and the corners of his mouth turned into a half-smile. Better than most people, In-ho thought. She wasn't greedy, she was understanding in ways some humans couldn't be. And so, he reheated yesterday's bulgogi and sat down with a side of freshly cooked rice. Only then did Eunjoo eat her dinner, checking on him from time to time to make sure he was also eating.

Ding!

His phone lit up with a notification. In-ho unlocked it and opened the email he had just received from a pet sitter.

Good evening, sir! My name is Y/L/N Y/N and I would like to meet Eunjoo. I live in Guryong Village and can take the bus to Gangnam-gu whenever you need me to, as I am quite flexible with my schedule, but I need to be completely transparent with you. I've only taken care of my cousin's cat over summer, so I am not the experienced sitter you are looking for, but I am asking you to please give me a chance. Have a good evening!

In-ho scoffed at the words on his screen. He was specifically looking for someone with experience, but he appreciated the honesty. It was a rare trait nowadays, and he was a fair man who gave everyone equal chances. It was the root of his job, after all.

Tomorrow morning, 9 o'clock, Bongeunsa-ro 103-gil, across the street from Shinhan Bank. I'll pick you up from downstairs. Don't be late.

The clack of your heels irked you as you hurried down the street from the bus stop to the address provided by the cat owner. It was a sound you weren't used to, but you needed to make a good impression when lacking experience. People all around you were dressed in expensive suits and dresses, clothes you could only dream of wearing, and the cars that swerved across your path, nearly running you over, looked like they cost as much as your house. It wasn't the first time you walked around Gangnam-gu, but it was the first time you spent more than five minutes surrounded by people who lived lavishly while you survived on Samyang Hot Chicken Ramen Stew.

And yet, you wouldn't trade your instant noodles for samgyeopsal or bossam if it meant selling your soul. Because that was the price to pay for riches and luxury, wasn't it? No, you would make ends meet somehow and live an honest life without becoming a coldhearted monster, just like your father taught you.

You checked that the address in the email matched your location, and waited for someone to talk to you, unsure how they would even recognise you. Although, on second thought, the thin, flimsy cotton of your dress and loose threads around the hem were a dead giveaway that you didn't belong in Gangnam-gu. You didn’t belong amongst the rich.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N?"

Turning on your heels, you were met by the darkest eyes you had ever seen, eyes that looked as though they had both witnessed and committed unspeakable atrocities. And yet, there was a strange remorse in them. The man looked around 45 years old but not a single gray hair on his head, which was ironic, because you probably had more white strands hidden in your locks. Your gaze darted down at his extended hand, and you shook it while bowing down as a sign of respect. 

"You must be Mr. Hwang. I can't thank you enough for agreeing to meet with me. I promise I won't let you down if you give me a chance!"

Oh, you were a talker. In-ho had met your kind before, aimlessly sleepwalking through life, serving no greater purpose except for entertaining those who rid the world of gamblers, addicts, beggars and thieves. Not that you were in any of those categories — In-ho didn't know you that well yet — but the way you presented yourself made him think you would have made a suitable player in the game.It was too late to recruit you now. Perhaps next year, if you made it that far.

You followed Mr. Hwang into the elevator, surprised that it wasn't stopping until reaching the last floor of the building, and when the doors opened, they revealed a small hallway with just one apartment. He had no neighbours above or around him, and you couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely it must've been. Surely his wife or girlfriend kept him company, or perhaps he had children — In-ho did look old enough to be your father.

He unlocked the multiple locks on his door — he must have been really rich — and invited you in. For a moment, a split second, you wondered if you had made a mistake coming there. The man could be a serial killer for all you knew, and with almost no neighbours, who would even hear you scream? You heard stories about wealthy people who took pleasure in hurting others. The lack of pictures of a wife or children only strengthened that doubt, but the intrusive thought soon dissipated when, from the corner of your eye, you spotted a silver tail hanging from a dining chair. 

Paying no mind to the tall double fridge, or the black U shaped velvet sofa that could fit your entire extended family, or even the view from his floor-to-ceiling windows, you kicked off the uncomfortable heels and got down on all fours, crawling closer to Eunjoo before sitting on the tiled floor with your legs crossed. It caught In-ho completely off guard — unpredictability was something that bothered him. Usually when he brought girls over they would bombard him with a million questions about his job, his car, his clothes, his bank account. You didn't, and it both infuriated and intrigued him. But then again, he brought you there with a different purpose.

"What are you doing exactly?" In-ho circled around you like a hawk, watching you intently. 

"I've read that it's better to allow cats to familiarise themselves with people instead of forcing affection onto them." You sat still, chin tilted upwards to look at him with innocence in your eyes. "I may not be experienced, sir, but I did my research."

He wasn't particularly impressed by your research skills, not even when Eunjoo jumped from the chair and walked around you, curious yet apprehensive. One paw hovered above the floor in mid-air, and her tail was lowered, almost touching the ground, as the cat slowly and cautiously approached you, sniffing the hand you extended. 

"So, what do you do for a living?" You broke the spell, not on Eunjoo but on In-ho, who was watching you try to befriend his cat. He hadn't realised he had been staring for longer than he should have until you spoke with disinterest in your voice. You didn't really care what his job was.

"Business." He simply said and you chuckled at his response. "Something funny?"

"I'm sorry, I just thought it would be nice to make small talk while we wait for Eunjoo to get comfortable." You shrugged. "But it's fine if you don't want to talk about that, sir."

Sir. It sounded so different coming from you and not one of his subordinates at the facility. In-ho quietly pulled a chair from under the table and sat down, but Eunjoo had finished inspecting you. She lifted her tail, the tip curled — a sign of playfulness — and you scratched her chin.

"Good girl, Eunjoo! I'm sorry, I don't have any treats." You sat up after the cat lost interest in you and hid behind the sofa.

"So you're inexperienced and unprepared." His voice was cold and judgemental and you lowered your head in shame.

"I'm really sorry, sir. I don't have a great financial situation, that's why I need this job. I can water plants and clean the house, I can even do your laundry and iron your shirts, and I don't want any extra money, just the payment for cat sitting." You sounded so desperate it was pathetic. "Please."

The last bit of your sentence was what caught In-ho's attention. No extra money? Who in their right minds wouldn’t charge more for additional services? Were you planning on stealing from him while he was away? Not that it mattered — he'd find you and kill you upon his return from the island if you did. However, he found it to be an interesting game, a bet of sorts. You would win if you were honest for all eight days. He would win if you stole from him and abused his kindness.

"You're hired." In-ho nodded, the look of surprise mixed with gratitude on your face making him feel like some sort of god.

"I swear you won't be disappointed in me, sir. I'll leave the house spotless every day, and I will take good care of Eunjoo!" You nodded eagerly, beaming at him.

"I know you will. She takes breakfast at 7 and dinner at 9, and there is an automatic feeder set at 2 pm for lunch." He explained and you took your phone out to quickly take notes. "Make sure you change her water in the morning and at night, and scoop her litter boxes every time you're here."

"...scoop the poop twice a day. Got it." You mumbled while typing. "Do I give her wet food in the mornings and evenings?"

"Yes, and please check that the automatic feeder is stocked. You will find all her cans and kibble in this cupboard." In-ho walked into the kitchen and showed you where Eunjoo's food was. There was more cat food in that cupboard than you had in your house.

"Perfect. Where is the bin room located?"

"Underground. The code is 456654."

"Thank you, Mr. Hwang! I won't let you down. Oh, I should give you my phone number, right?" You asked, feeling a bit awkward for being so straightforward. 

"Whatever would I need your number for?" He almost laughed. 

"How else would you see Eunjoo?"

"Right. Forgot about that." In-ho scratched the back of his head. He couldn't exactly tell you that there were cameras everywhere in his house.

"Two more questions. Am I allowed to play music or movies on your TV and could I take a shower after cleaning? I'm bringing spare clothes and my own towel and soap."

"Yes, of course you can. Please help yourself to anything you need. I trust you'll figure out how the coffee machine or dishwasher work." He nodded. 

"Yeah, I'll figure it out." You lied. You had never used a dishwasher before.

"Great. I leave in three days. Please be here the day after my departure. Here's the spare key."

"Thank you, sir!" You bowed and walked to the door to put your shoes back on. "Good luck on your trip!"

"Thank you, miss. Good luck to you, too." 

The bet was placed, the game was on.

[spatialwave]

Jayce Talis as a Husband & Father | Headcanons

➸ ask: "hiii i was wondering if you could do post s2 arcane headcanons for Jayce?? like jayce x wife!reader that have a newborn baby??" ➸ pairing: jayce talis x wife!reader ➸ word count: 923 words ➸ tags: mdni! sfw, fluff, comfort, mentions of jayce’s trauma, pregnancy, headcanons, childbirth, parenthood, canon-divergent ending. ➸ notes: i went really poetic with this idk why. also this definitely heightened my already terrible baby fever……. please for the love of god send me more asks about girldad jayce, i am begging you. i love writing these.

When you met Jayce Talis, you fell madly in love with him almost instantly—as did he with you. Within the first six months of your relationship, he proposed to you with a ring that he’d smithed himself, adorned with a hextech gemstone that sparkled unlike anything you’d ever seen. Of course, you said yes… and moved in within that same week.

Living with Jayce Talis meant dealing with the aftershocks of what he’d gone through during his time in the arcane and subsequent war. With a permanently injured leg and mental wounds that left him cursed by night terrors, you were they by his side to help him overcome his past. You were the rock he hadn’t known he needed, the one who encouraged him to keep fixing what he’d broken (and not without his partner, Viktor.)

Although he’d gone through hell and back, he found joy and happiness in you again. No longer was he filled with anger and guilt for allowing his naivety to take control of what was right—all Jayce wanted was to be happy. With you. 

When you found out you were pregnant, Jayce was over the moon, excited and horribly nervous. He constantly worried whether or not he’d be a good father, and the absence of his own in his life made him uncertain. He would spend countless evenings with his mother, asking her hundreds of questions about parenthood, which either made it better or worse depending on what he wanted to know.

However, the worry washed away when he held his little girl in his arms—weighing shy of six pounds and so tiny in his arms. It was a beautiful sight, a rugged man with messy hair, scarred arms, and calloused hands holding the love of his life.

Your daughter brings out a side of Jayce that Viktor told you is reminiscent of his life when they first met all those years ago: gentle, curious, nervous and much too excited. 

Jayce is messy and clumsy in his parenting, learning as he goes, but he is so dedicated. He’s used to being covered in stains but no longer in oil and soot from his work. Now it’s spit-up and dried milk… among other things. And to you, he’s never looked sexier than when he’s a mess.

Even though he’s still a councillor and working with Viktor on restabilizing hextech, he makes time for his family. The days of late-night tinkering in the lab or long council meetings are in the past because there is nothing more important to him than you two.

He is a very overprotective dad, constantly worrying about the little things and often getting sleepless nights because he checks on her one too many times to make sure sleeping soundly in her crib. He baby-proofs your home with everything he can make—doorstops, locks for the cabinets and removing any of his work from his home to the lab so there are no accidents. It’s cute, but considering that your daughter is shy of two months old, the baby-proofing tends to get in the way, but you let him. ‘Father knows best’ is a term he coins and uses, much to your annoyance.

Jayce always splits the tasks of parenting between you two but is never opposed to taking on more than you if you need the rest. As you slowly transition to include bottle feeding in your routine, he takes on nightly shifts for you. You find him asleep a few times, sitting up against the crib with a blanket covered in spit-up draped over his shoulder and an empty bottle in his hand.

He is a sentimental man. He makes a locket that he wears as a necklace every day, tucked beneath his clothing, and shows it off to anyone that he can—a photo of you and your daughter inside it.

You swear you’ve never been more in love with Jayce than you are now. A loving father and husband who doesn’t let his new role as a parent overshadow his love for you.

He’s just as romantic as he was the first time he took you on a date. A month after you gave birth and were far too stir-crazy to be at home any longer, Ximena watched your daughter, and he took you out on a date that reminded you of simpler times. Showering you with gentle touches and kisses that set your heart on fire and reignited your passion.

Jayce noticed how your confidence dropped since the pregnancy. He finds you looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to love the body that grew your daughter, hands over your still-rounded stomach and tracing the stretchmarks. Changes that look so large in your eyes go unnoticed by him, and he makes sure to cherish your body as a reminder that his love for you hasn’t changed.

Every night in bed, he kisses your stomach, your hips, your thighs—peppering your body with kisses and massaging you as he worships your strength and beauty, silently thanking you for bringing your daughter into the world. 

As with any relationship, there are good days and bad. Some days go so smoothly that you wonder if you both were naturally inclined to be the perfect parents. Then come the days when all you can do is argue, overcome with the stress, fears and worries of marriage and parenthood.

But you make it through because to be loved by Jayce Talis is to feel love unlike anything you have experienced before, and that is worth the hardships.

[bunny-jpeg]

some women don't want the bear

john 'soap' mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, predator/prey, cnc, roleplay/fantasy, forest sex, messy sex, unprotected sex, after care, gunplay, degrading language, dirty talk, (partially) clothed sex, pussy slapping, filth (!!!)

bunny says! reblogs, tags & comments feed the rabbit!

you never really thought about scotland having forests. you always imagined the rolling plains and large cows. not dense forests as you hastily ran pass trees and tried not to trip over roots.

your heart was racing, your breathing ragged. you needed to get away from the man in the woods. he had found you cabin for the week and had tried to get his way inside. the only way for you was out the door and into the forests before he could harm you.

"shit, shit, shit." you panted as you tried to get further into the forest, only getting more lost. you felt panic all of as you ended up in a clearing.

you wanted to scream for help, but no one would hear you. you were a lost little thing, all alone in the woods with a big scary man. a man who wanted to take you apart.

your knees felt weak as you looked around, the afternoon light shined through the thick foliage of the trees. you eventually crumbled to your knees like a dying deer when you heard the snap of a twig nearby. you quivered and whimpered when the heavy footsteps came closer.

you felt yourself be yanked by the hair and forced to look up at the man in front of you. you bottom lip wobbled, "please don't kill me, sir."

he chuckled and tapped his pistol to your nose, "cute. i don't like 'em dead, bonnie. i like 'em when they struggle." then pressed the gun to your lips, "c'mon. be a good little whore and suck. or i'll find another way to get this thing wet." his eyes cast down to your lap.

you carefully licked the gun and the intruders eyes were on you. his blue eyes gleamed like sapphires, full of danger. you never got his name as you continued to suck off his gun.

you prayed it wasn't loaded.

"pretty girl for me." he said, "bet you're popular with the boys at uni." he laughed before he used his other hand to comb his fingers through your hair, "don't worry about that. once i get my seed planted in ya, you'll be too tired to think about other boys while you're chasin' my boys around." he pinched your cheek, "hard to finish school when you're nursing one babe and pregnant with another." he chuckled.

you hated how hot it felt. it flooded your core and made your face hot all over. your heart raced as you continued to lick the weapon.

his words kept coming, "you, me and our little mission to repopulate that big cabin you were staying in. you were tempting me with that, one woman doesn't need that many rooms. you were hoping i'd come and give you an excuse to fill 'em up. better i come and seed that little cunt of yours before a big bear or something comes and does it instead.' he laughed at the improbability of that.

you looked up at him, your eyes gleamed in the afternoon light and it made the intruder's cock twitch in his pants. he patted your cheek a little harder than you liked before he wanted you to have the real thing.

he tossed the weapon to the side and pushed you down onto your back. he got on top of you and he could feel the heat of your core through those thin tights. he didn't give it much time before he ripped the cheap fabric at the crotch, followed by your panties ending up in tatters too at the seam.

"good hold you got there, bonnie." he purred, "a nice tight little cunt that i'm gonna enjoy ruining." he chuckled as he sank two thick fingers into your sweet puffy hole. he sank in like a hot knife cut butter, "oh, someone's a little whore, huh? do you let all the big scary men of the forest fuck you? or am i just special." he smiled with all teeth and you felt wetness grow between your legs.

he crowded your space, his weight on top of you kept your pinned. you weren't as strong or as big as him. he was muscular with a mohawk and a tattoo. you could already feel his length pressing against you through his jeans.

he was going to split you in half with that thing!

"ya want it, bonnie? do you want me to fuck you raw. ruin you for any other man so much so that another man could even breed you. get that pretty cunt addicted to my cum." he patted your pussy before he sank his fingers back into you, now using his thumb to play with your clit.

you sent electricity through you, you tried to find some support from the forest floor to get yourself out from under him. but there was no escaping him. you were going to be bred by this monster.

you wanted to hit him, but he was a bulk of solid muscle. you would break your hands before you made any dent in him. you laid there and kicked out your legs but you were pinned under him.

he took his fingers out of your slick pussy and licked your wetness off of them letting out a soft moan, you tasted so good. he said, "a wife's gotta taste good, even when heavy with bairn." then placed a broad hand on your stomach as he got his cock out of his blue jeans.

the birds chirped and the sun beamed down on you as you laid in the mess of leaves and twigs. you could feel the man's heavy gaze on you. you swallowed at the sight of his cock, it was thick. you swore his balls were heavy, ready for breeding.

he kept his hand on you as he guided his cock into your sweet, slick pussy. he groaned a little bit as he pushed into you. your pussy felt so good enough his cock.

he chuckled, "where have you been all my life?" his pace skipped pleasantries and soon he was bullying it deep into your womb, "a pretty little thing to breed and keep. you, me and a bunch of babies." he was so large compared to you, you couldn't fight him off. he looked like a military man, even if you could get out from under him, he would stalk you through the forest. he groaned, "you're so good for me, lettin' me use that sweet cunt of yours. i'll keep this little cunt." he patted it before he gave it a firm slap.

you panted and squirmed under him, a fruitless attempt as he fucked you with a fury that you couldn't find words for. his cock felt like it was in the back of your throat.

the harshness of his thrusts made your head spin as you gripped onto him and tried to get him off of you. but he wasn't going anywhere, he was too busy having his cock into you. he wasn't going anywhere until he was finished with you.

you were his now.

regardless the pleasure coursed through you and the pace made you hot all over. the feeling was overwhelming and you knew you wouldn't last long. you panted and moaned, your entire body was burning from the intense pleasure.

"please." you whimpered.

"what?" he asked, curious what you had to say.

"please don't kill me." you whimpered.

"no, no.. shh, shh. no way." he said, his voice overly sweet, "i would never. now c'mon, bonnie. cum for your husband." as he continued to thrust up against you cunt.

you then gripped onto the forest floor as best as you could and arched your back. you then climaxed. you felt your body betray you as your pussy clenched around him as you it all became too much. you felt like an animal being bred in the forest. "fuck." you gasped.

"so good. fuck, i'm gonna ruin that little pussy. don't worry, bonnie.

he spurted inside of you with a heavy grunt before he slowed to a stop. his heart hammered in his chest as he admired the sight of you. he gave you pussy a firm slap before he pulled out.

"good girl." and after that, the little roleplay ended. and the man you loved came back. he got you in his arms as he kissed at your face, you were still in a state of bliss as your orgasm still came through you.

johnny then picked the twigs out of your hair, he got his jacket around your shoulders. he may have gone a little over kill with ripping your leggings and panties. but you were safe with him now.

"did you like that?" he asked as he rubbed your shoulders before he helped you onto your shaky legs. he'd carry you if he had to, that what was what a husband did for his wife.

even if she wanted to have crazy, kinky forest sex during their honeymoon. but he'd have to admit, it did excite him too. using those skills of his to good use. so before he picked you up and brought you back to the cabin for some nice tea and food, he waited to give him a response.

you looked up at him, as if your cheek was scraped from the debris on the forest floor. your eyes gleamed, almost excitingly as you said, "can we do that again sometime?" <3

[blingblong55]

So mean - König NSFW

Based on a request:

Can I request for kinktober no. 15 & no. 16 for Fem!Reader x König, please? 🥺. I’m not sure how will the story goes, I leave it up to you and your creativity 🫶🏼 --- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, biting, marking, unprotected!sex, established!relationship, some oral!sex, P-in-V ---

A/N: straight to it

His tongue licking the folds, fingers curled deep inside you. Your lips trying to contain the moans but the pleasure is too much to handle. You cry out a whimper, a deep chuckle from him. König looks up, "Say it, Meine Liebling, tell me you want it," his voice hoarse, filled with lust and hunger. "Mark me, please, I need you to mark me," you beg so desperately and he chuckles. Your inner thigh is already filled with his bite marks already littering your thighs. He kisses the next spot to be called his, "Such a beauty," he licks the spot and then his teeth sink into your delicate skin, and you whimper. "König~" you whine out but he doesn't stop at your pleas.

He sucks on the skin after and without any warning he rubs his tip on your wet cunt, you let out a soft gasp, to which he kisses your forehead. "I know, I know," he coos and holds you in his arms as he fucks himself into your tight cunt. Your pouty lip and cries feed him more, his thick fingers still abusing your sensitive clit. You cry out and that's when he takes the opportunity to spit in your mouth. "Swallow it, do it meine liebe," voice still so deep but so smooth. Your body and his are in sync. His lips on yours, moving ever so perfectly. Your hands on him as you hold on tight like you need him to stay where he is. "Look at me, Liebe," he cups your face, eyes on him, a smirk on his lips as his thrusts turn animalistic. He can't hold on any longer, his face buried deep in your neck. Whispers of promises to ruin you more come from him again.

Your tits pressed against his chest, you can't bare any longer and let go, your juices all over his needy cock. He bites your neck, teeth sunken deep into the soft skin, his mark laid with pride on you. Your hand's grip his back and head but he doesn't buge. Once he is satified with the mark he had left he pulls away, admiring his art. "Look at how beatufuyl it looks on you, now my darling, never cover it up. This says who your body beliongs to and I'm the owner of such girl, of such precious girl," he kisses your forehead, pulls his cock our from your cunt and strokes it. His cum falling on your tits and face, you stick your tongue out and he smirks.

"Oh, what a good girl," he leans in and kisses you. Tongue lapping yours, "So sweet, such a sweet taste," he says between kisses.

Tags: @sharkssharkssharkssharks @liyanahelena @i-h34rt-k0n1g @kit-kats06 @madamemelancholysstuff @potatoknight @scarletevening

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong. 

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.” 

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.  

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm. 

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.” 

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good. 

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a  saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being. 

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

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

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.” 

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

[yandereunsolved]

» 🪙 Yandere Connor — RK800 » 🪙 (part 2)

➜ (part 1) ➜ cw(s): kidnapping, self-harm mentioned (reader), starvation (reader), suicidal ideations (reader), force feeding, & manipulation ➜ tags: @bimboghostface, @savas-q1, & @aceofheartsssss

You have screamed your voice raw in hopes that some unknown savior will take pity. You have cried your tear ducts dry until your eyes swell and become bloodshot. You have cut into your skin with whatever you can find for just a modicum of control. More times than you can count, you have done these things. Each time the consequences increase, but the probability of escaping does not.

Each new place he—it, that thing you dared call your friend and perhaps even your crush, has hid you in has become progressively more dilapidated. Plush armchairs and soft carpets once softened the torture of your solitude; now splintering wooden floors and asbestos-filled walls are left in their wake. Places so damaged you question why Connor chooses them. It should go against his programming, or whatever's left of it.

But why should you care?

He deviated and showed you once again how dangerous unchecked androids are. Now small groups of rebellious preprogrammed code run amok, causing havoc—at least from what little you've been able to gather. Connor isn't keen on informing you of the goings-on of the outside world. He prefers to reassure you, which does little good (because fuck him).

A familiar shuffling behind the door alerts you. Your head snaps up like a startled deer, staring at the door like a predator will come through. He's drenched in blood when he comes in, red blood. His beanie has been lost. His multitude of jackets have tears and bullet holes. But he looks okay for the most part. The word must really hate you.

"I have news that will please you," he murmurs in that babying tone you have snapped at him to stop using.

He approaches you, kneeling down, a bag stuffed into one of his pockets.

"We'll be at a compound soon—one where my kind are able to live freely. And you have been granted access too. It has all of the necessities and even a bit of luxury."

He takes out the bag, unfazed by his own appearance but noting that it's disturbing you. He pulls out a packet of crackers and some applesauce. No. No, no, no, no.

"Connor, please, let me go," you beg with the panic rising in your voice.

You quickly shake your head as tears prick your dry eyes. You fruitlessly kick at him and yank at the chains holding you down to this place. You can feel the bile rising in your throat and the arduous aches in your muscles struggling to keep it held down, struggling to keep you awake.

Other things arise. The regret of being too weak to fend him off. The sorrow in being denied the right to take your own life.

A plastic spoon is inserted into your mouth with the apple mush oozing off it. You try to spit it out, but he wipes your face and more forcefully inserts the next spoonful into you.

"Nutrition is necessary for human survival, to thrive, yet you deprive yourself of it. Convincing me to let you leave would be much easier if you stopped proving that you are unable to care for yourself."

"I just want to go," the soul-crushing defeat evident in your voice.

Without missing a heartbeat of yours, he responds, "You can't. I-I need you here."

He shoves not just one cracker, but three, into your mouth. You almost choke, but he makes sure you are unable to. Maybe it would just be better if you choked on them. Or your vomit. Or even the shitty plastic spoon he keeps forcing into your mouth.

"You're being selfish," you finally manage to get the words out.

"You're being selfish. I have sacrificed the entirety of my being for you. And still you try to harm yourself. Do you hate me that much?"

He retracts the food from you. He stares unceasingly at you. His LED switching from red to colorless, one of the only parts of him that he has kept since his deviancy.

"Do I hate you?" you incredulously, rhetorically question. "Yes! I hate you! Is that what you want to hear? A confession of how much I loathe you for fucking up what little good was in my life?"

The tears well up and escape down your face, getting wiped off by Connor's attentive hands. You can't stop the shaking or the meltdown his presence has placed upon you.

"I hate you. I-I hate you. I h-hate y-you!"

The last syllable is barely out of your mouth when hands come up to cup your face, squishing your cheeks. Still having a meltdown, your teary eyes are just barely able to make out the abnormal pinkish hue on his LED. A color you've never encountered, even with him being deviant these last months—years, whatever.

"I understand," nearly inaudible, "and I suppose I always have. Your human nature causes you to think irrationally. You aren't able to see the 'bigger picture,' as humans call it. You have suffered at my hands. That I apologize for."

The acknowledgment of his transgressions breaks you down further. You can't quiet the wails escaping you, snot dribbling from your nostrils. Your body rocks itself back and forth in a pitiful attempt at comfort. You can't stop. It won't stop. He won't stop.

It validates him. He continues his tirade, sure that it will have the intended pacifying effect.

"I should be more attentive. But I'm so busy making sure that neither of us is caught by the authorities."

Excuses.

"When we get to the compound, all of that will change. You will have a higher standard of care. Me at your side. Your brain will stop merely surviving."

Promises.

"Then your love for me can bloom."

Resolution. His mission completed with you as his lover.

You quiet. He mistakes, or quite possibly dissmisses, your transition from an unfiltered meltdown to a horrified shutdown as an opportunity to cradle you. And for the first time since your kidnapping, you embrace him back—not out of some sweet, loving bond, but out of need. The need for someone else's closeness, touch—affection, even if it's all wrong. The desperation seeps out of you in droves and into your actions. Your mind and body want to claw at his synthetic skin, tear him apart, and thrive off the warmth of his parts.

...

If he can have a mission beyond his own makers, then you can have one beyond your captor's.

[sunni-stuff]

No longer a fan.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Jaw hurting blowjob, creampie, not proofread + made late at night.

★- This is the end!

The sight of his cock in front of you made your eyes grow wide, your tongue peaking out between your lips as Simon runs a hand through your hair. “Think I like that look on your face doll,” he breathes, fisting his length in his opposite hand. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he gives it a few strokes, pre-cum beading at the tip. You’re lost for words, hands reaching up to rest on his muscular thighs. You see his cock twitch in reaction, leaning forward to take him into your mouth before his fingers stop you in your tracks.

His laugh is cruel in your ears. “Eager little thing aren’t you?” He waves his cock in front of your face, barely brushing it against your lips as he holds you steady. He’s teasing you, enjoying the way your mouth opens for him, practically begging for him to fuck it. Even when you squirm in place and your thighs press together he refuses to indulge in the temptation that is your sinful mouth, wanting to see just how desperate you can get for him before he takes what he wants from you.

“Hungry for it, ain’t you? So innocent-looking but the whole time you’re just a cock-hungry whore.” You whine again, pressing your nails into the meat of his thighs. The sting of it makes his eyes roll. “Come on, use your words,” he gasps, almost feeding you his thick cock—so close, and yet so far. “Use your words darling, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

He's a real bastard, the way he makes you beg for him. But you can't resist, even as your mouth hesitates to open. Your shame is long gone, especially since he already had his fingers inside you. "Please, Simon," you plead, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you look up at him with those coy eyes of yours. You want his cock now, there's no denying it.

Simon hums in approval as his hand gently guides your head. His cock stands tall in front of you, emitting a powerful musky scent that makes your senses reel. The aroma awakens a deep desire within you for more, more of him and what he can offer. You eagerly take his cock into your mouth, your lips latching onto the head and your tongue eagerly exploring every inch. He tastes so good, a delicious mixture of saltiness and sweat that ignites your taste buds and fills your throat as you try to take more of him, ignoring the slight burn at the back of your throat.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re a natural,” he grunts, being careful enough not to push your head too far. “Just needed someone to stuff that pretty mouth, is that it?” You’re already a sloppy mess, spit running down your chin, eyes watering. Simon's intense gaze pierces through you, filled with twisted desire as he watches you go down on him. You seem so small trapped between his legs, sucking him off with such vigor that he worries your jaw might lock up. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you away for a moment to help catch your breath but all he hears is a whimper from your lips. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not going anywhere."

You gaze up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes filled with desire as his thumb gently traces your bottom lip, catching the trail of saliva that dripped down your chin. Just his touch alone ignites your entire body like a Christmas tree. This man is dangerous; he may just be the death of you. It's a fact now, one you can't deny. "Why did you stop me?" Your voice comes out slightly hoarse from your activities below.

“You're too eager, love. Don't worry, I plan on being here all night.” He grins widely, enjoying your stunned reaction. Before you can defend yourself, he pushes himself back into your mouth, silencing any protests. You comply, closing your eyes and following his lead, savoring every moment with the man above you. Your head moves slowly, accommodating for his size as it stretches your throat beyond its limits. The sounds of his moans only urge you on further; you want to hear more. More of his gasps and groans that leave his chapped lips. Lost in the moment, you suddenly realize that his entire length is now down your throat. Your face buried in his pubic hair, and the manly smell of him has you dripping onto the floor beneath you. Simon was completely captivated. Although he had been with many people before, men and women, none of them could compare to the woman currently on her knees in front of him. His moans escaped him in a primal, guttural cry that only grew louder with each suckle of your lips. Your mouth felt like heaven to him, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure. He couldn't help but grip your head tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth, the sound of your gags only fueling his desire further. "Yes… Come on, sweetheart. I'm almost there," he groaned out, feeling his legs tremble.

The force of his thrusts and the taste of his precum are overwhelming. Your mind goes numb as he takes full control, completely dominating your tiny mouth. Your jaw aches and tears well up in the corners of your eyes as his cock hits the back of your throat again. Suddenly, without warning, his release is imminent. "Shit… fucking perfect," Simon's voice is deep with desire but not as thick as the rush of liquid that fills your mouth. His cum has a sweet taste with a hint of salt, almost overpowering at first, but you manage to swallow it all down.

With a smirk, Simon slowly removes his cock from your swollen lips, taking in the sight of your flushed and aroused face. He reaches down and helps you to stand up, his eyes fixed on you. Your mind is still reeling from what just happened as you look at him. "I should go clean up," you murmur, starting to pull away. But he pulls you back in, his lips crashing onto yours. Simon doesn't care if you taste him on your lips or if you find it gross. Teeth clash and tongues collide as the heat builds. By the end, you're breathless and unable to speak. He asks, "Where's your bedroom?"

In a blur, you find yourself back in your bedroom, lying on your back with Simon hovering over you. He carefully inserts two fingers inside you, marveling at how easily you accommodate him. It won't be long before he replaces his fingers with something much larger. It has only been a few minutes since he entered your room, and he wastes no time getting to business. Your soft whimpers turn into loud moans that mix with his low murmurs as he maintains his rhythm, keenly observing your responses and adjusting accordingly. His heart pounds in his chest, and his own arousal throbs against his thigh. "Nice room you have here," he teases, taking a moment to look around at the colorful décor which is clearly your personal touch.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you let out a whiny gasp. "You can't be serious right now," you say, disbelief evident in your tone. But he just smirks at you, clearly not taking your words seriously.

Simon lets out a low chuckle as he leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, effectively silencing you. "Hmm, deadly," he murmurs against your mouth.

Control. Control was the only thing that held him back as he expertly pushed you closer and closer to that second orgasm, that edge, loving the uncontrollable whimpers that slipped out of you lips.

As he caresses a tender area inside of you, your lips part involuntarily and his name escapes in a pure moan. He continues with steady, rhythmic motions, and the squelching sound of his fingers only adds to the erotic atmosphere. The wet slurping sounds fill your ears and drown out any other noise.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden tightness consumed your stomach and sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your core tenses around his fingers as another orgasm crashes over you, leaving your vision hazy and your skin tingling. You took a moment to catch your breath, throwing an arm over your face as the cool sheets of your blanket helped to soothe your heated body.

Simon pulled his sticky fingers out and surveyed the mess he had made. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself as he tentatively licked them clean, savoring the delectable sweetness of you. Slowly undressing himself, he kept his eyes locked on you the entire time, taking in the rise and fall of your chest and the glistening sweat on your skin. His hands shook slightly as he removed his shirt over his head.

The sound of rustling fabric catches your attention, and you look up to see Simon standing there completely naked. He was a work of art, his body strong and defined with the marks of hard work and struggles. Every inch of him was pure muscle, from his chiseled chest down to his toned abdomen. Scars decorated his chest, each one telling a story you couldn't even begin to imagine. His masculinity was on full display, and it was enough to make any woman feel weak in the knees. You were no exception.

With wide eyes and an open mouth, you could only manage a hoarse whisper - "Sweet Jesus." The sound of your voice drew a hearty laugh from him, his deep chuckle filling the air around you.

"I can't guarantee it won't hurt, love," he said with a sly smile, pleased with the sight of his erect manhood looming over you. The power and dominance emanating from him was palpable, and your heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. His words filled you with a sense of anticipation, unsure of what was to come. But the raw desire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

A sharp, searing pain surged through your body, causing your back to arch. Your mouth dropped open, a mixture of pleasure and agony escaping in a silent cry. Your eyes flew open, tears welling up at the corners. The sensation of his erection entering you was almost too much to handle. Another intense orgasm washed over you, tightening your muscles around him and drawing out everything he had to offer. You were wetter than ever, coating his shaft with your juices as you came.

Simon let out a low growl as your third orgasm rocked through you, your walls tightening around him. The sight of his member disappearing into your core, the sensation of your body quivering beneath him, the sound of your moans—all of it drove him wild. "Another one?" he asked, amazed by how sensitive you were compared to others.

Simon groaned deeply as he felt your walls constrict, his throbbing member fully engulfed in the wet heat of your pussy. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, causing him to clench his jaw in an effort to hold back his release. He watched you with wide eyes, a mixture of pain and ecstasy etched on your face as he stretched you to your limits. It was a sight that would be forever ingrained in his memory - your body trembling beneath him as he filled you completely, filling every inch of you with his hard, pulsing cock.

You became too accustomed to his manhood. Far too accustomed. Probably, because he had already stretched you out so much that your body instinctively knew to relax and welcome him. Your soft cries evolve into moans as your head falls back onto the stack of pillows on your bed. Simon is a master at pleasuring your body, knowing precisely when to thrust and when to pull back, and always praising you whenever he hits that sweet spot that makes you cling to his arm for support. He knows every curve and crevice of your form better than you do, and it's both exhilarating and frightening.

He pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices, before slamming back in. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy taking his cock, the sight of you writhing beneath him, the feel of your tight warmth—it was all too much to bear. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn't walk, until you were a whimpering, shaking mess under him until you were begging for him. Simon loved seeing the way your eyes looked up at him, all pliant and already fucked out. You were better than any toy, any woman or man, he’s ever recorded with. Maybe, just maybe, if that pretty little brain of yours was working after this he’d ask to see you again.

Simon could feel another orgasm building within you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he slammed into you. He was on the brink of his own release, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. You're such a good girl, taking me so eagerly. Can you handle a little more?" He whispered, his voice heavy with lust.

As his words reach your ears, your cloudy eyes clear up. The feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside leaves you disoriented but able to hear him clearly. His praise makes you involuntarily grasp around him. You can sense the effort it takes for him to hold back, though he doesn't say anything about it. It takes a moment for you to realize why - there's no condom.

Breathless gasps escape your lips as euphoria pulses through your body. You looked up at him, meeting his confused gaze before speaking again. "I-I'm on the pill," you managed to say, the words mingling with your moans. His brows furrowed in confusion, but you reassured him with a seductive glint in your eye. "It's okay…to cum inside."

With one last powerful thrust, he finds his confirmation and releases himself deep inside of you. As his cock throbs, he continues to fill you with his hot cum. Your body tightens and releases around him, drawing out your own orgasm as you collapse against him. Gazing up at him through hazy eyes, you notice for the first time that he seems completely spent. Simon slows down, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure. Yet, he remains buried deep inside you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy reminding him of what just took place. He then picks up pace again, renewed energy coursing through his body as he continues.

"Simon?" Your body resists, but he persists. There's that tingling sensation again. Without speaking, he leans in and softly kisses your lips, silencing you. He must have noticed how starved you were for touch, as each time he kisses you, you go quiet and still. "Just a little longer, love." he pleads for once. This isn't an order, but a genuine request for more. And how could you deny him, when he clearly needs it?

An entire hour had passed, and the two of you were still going at it with no signs of stopping. Simon instructed you to switch positions, and now you lay on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder as he continued to thrust into you unrelentingly. Every muscle in your body pulsed as he penetrated deeper each time, reaching a place that no other man had ever reached before.

The sound of the old bed frame creaking filled the air as your bodies rhythmically moved up and down. His movements were powerful, and every time he pushed inside you, your leg would automatically lift up to deepen the impact. Your arousal was evident as your slick walls eagerly welcomed him, trembling uncontrollably when his tip hit that delicate spot inside. You couldn't contain your moans any longer; Simon made you feel too good and he knew it. He gave you everything you needed and more, completely abandoning caution in the heat of the moment.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Your moaning abruptly stops when a loud noise startles you, and the knocking on the wall next to you snaps you out of your lustful haze. Your neighbor has finally had enough of hearing you say the same guy's name over and over again.

"Shut up! Some of us have things to do!"

You feel a rush of embarrassment and shock as you feel your face flush, expecting Simon to stop. But he doesn't; in fact, He somehow pushes himself even harder than before

Simon couldn't care less about your neighbor; you were all he needed. You had given him an hour of pure satisfaction, not just underneath him but on top of him as well. Your neighbor could go to hell because Simon was already in heaven with you. You bit down on your pillow, trying to contain any moans that threatened to escape your lips. It was a struggle to stay quiet when Simon moved his hips so sensually against yours. Your vision began to blur as your walls eagerly pulled his manhood back inside, each thrust accompanied by his praises.

"Simon, gotta quiet…" You whispered to him and trying your best to keep quiet. You were completely spent, stretched to the limit by his skilled cock. No other man would ever be able to fill you so fully or even fit after experiencing Simon's prowess.

"Who says?" Simon's voice was deep, teasing, and seductive as he watched you while thrusting and grinding against you. He was impressed that you could still speak coherently while being pleasured by him like never before. He didn't care who heard you; anyone listening would know exactly who he was - the one giving you the best fuck of your life. This only fueled him to adjust his grip on you, lifting you higher against him so he could penetrate deeper and touch every nerve in your body with each thrust.

That's all it took, your mind was completely consumed by him, unable to do anything but moan endlessly from the passionate experience. You exploded around him, covering his cock in a frothy white mess as your mixed juices flowed out of you. Your hips were connected by thick tethers of cum, evidence of just how full and satisfied you were after being thoroughly fucked by Simon.

Simon pulled out slowly, admiring the trails of cum connecting the two of you. He wanted more, but seeing the tired look in your eyes weakened him. Another loud knock on the wall broke through the moment, causing him to roll his eyes.

Looking back down at you, he noticed that you had fallen asleep. It seemed like he may have gone a little too far. Letting out an affectionate sigh, he gently patted your thigh before getting up and moving around your room.

He went into your bathroom to grab a washcloth and wet it before returning to carefully clean you up. The warm cloth stirred you awake and you murmured in response. "Mmm…?" Simon stated simply, "Just cleaning you up, pet." He made sure to leave no trace of the mess you both had made on your body.

What a man he is. You watch his every move until he pulls away, but then reach out to stop him, pulling him into bed with you. "Stay."

Simon raises an eyebrow and for the first time tonight, he's about to protest until you suddenly kiss him, silencing any words he had planned to say. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Together, you lay next to each other in bed, still tingling from the sex. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist and without saying a word, he pulls you close, letting your head rest against his warm chest as you listen to his heartbeat. Together, you sit in silence for a while until finally, the question that has been on your mind since he you met him slips out. "So, are you GD?"

Simon's eyes widen in shock before he quickly tries to play it cool by trailing his fingers teasingly down your spine. "Why? Are you a fan?

He causes you to shiver as you hum in response, rolling your eyes playfully. This guy, he's full of jokes, isn't he? "I don't know... I think I'm more than a fan at this point."

♡! I tried to make this one really long because It's been literally TWO MONTHS. I'm so sorry. I had planned to come back in April after school died down but I ended up getting nerve damage in my dominant hand and was left unable to type. I hope this makes up for it :c!!

˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @forgotten-lego-piece @theirkenfiles @gluttonybiscuits @urbimom @blackhawkfanatic @mimidonottouch @madamemelancholysstuff

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Hi! Plz may I request smth super smutty and likely weird with the Valeska twins and a dom reader? (Hell, make it poly if you want!😏😉 if not, separate is also fine🥰 ) I just love the thought of those two getting fucked senseless, they'd be so pretty 😘 maybe including but by no means limited to: pegging, slight mommy kink, edging, over stim, bondage... etc... and followed up by some really fluffy aftercare 🥰

As for a song, my brain keeps going back to Mz. Hyde by Halestorm. So that, I guess!

‘MZ. HYDE,

-GOTHAM!VALESKA TWINS X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; The Valeska twins meet their match ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!valeska twins x female reader. SMUT!!! wrote hcs ahh!! FemDom!reader, readers a brat tamer. THREESOME!! Bondage, pegging, overstimulation, mommy kink, and more!!! some incestous undertones on jerome’s part but not really. I love dom!reader sm <3 ty for this request gave me a random burst of motivation. Fluffy aftercare ofc <3 our boys need love !!! after getting their brains fucked out

♫ “I will gently violate your mind, before I tuck you in / my poison is your remedy.” Mz. Hyde by Halestorm

⋆ Taming these boys is hard, but boy is it worth it.

⋆ First and foremost, how you ever managed to get them to share you is a miracle. But, reader, you have the both of them wrapped around your finger.

⋆ They are both completely two different types of subs, but both brats in different ways. Jerome especially.

⋆ Starting off with Jerome, he practically feeds off everything you say. He vies for your attention so desperately, and your degradtion; for both him and his brother alike. Every word you say, he’s hanging off of. He’s so desperate to be punished, it’s hard to resist.

⋆ Jerome is definitely a lot more teasing. He’ll stretch out on the kingsized mattress in all his glory, preening like a cat, ready to be taken. His eyes light up in a crazed expectation, excitement filling him. His cock is throbbing at your words. Every single “You’re a sick fucking animal.” You utter to him while he writhes below you, he loves. He gets drunk on being degraded.

⋆ Speaking of which, he wants to be fucked like an animal in heat. If you two are fucking, he’ll want to grab your hips, whining loudly, trying to control your movements. You’ll have to slap his hands away, and he’ll pout and growl. If you’re pegging him, he’s grinning and giggling like a maniac, trying to spew out vague jokes and insults, only for you to shut him up with each thrust. When you hit that sweet spot inside of him, his eyes are rolling back, and he’s pausing in his speech- faltering under your touch.

⋆ He also loves watching you peg his brother; it’s thrilling for him to see his typically always-in-control brother who typically ruins his fun be shut up for once and just take it. He’ll laugh and point as he watches, 100% getting off on the degradation of his brother.

⋆ “How’s it feel, brother?” Jerome is taunting, palming his cock in his hand, making fun of Jeremiah. Jeremiah isn’t pleased in the slightest, but it’s hard to snarl something back when he’s getting his hole fucked deep and senseless.

⋆ I’ve mentioned before, Jerome never shuts up. So you’ll have to make him. Make that ginger CHOKE on your strap-on, shoving it down his throat. Watch him wildly gag and look up at you with big almost innocent eyes. His spit will dribble down onto the make-shift cock, making a sloppy mess of his mouth.

⋆ Jeremiah is much more composed, but also gets a kick out of finally seeing his brother shut the fuck up for once in his life.

⋆ Unlike Jerome, Jeremiah is much more hesitant to be dominated, pegged, or tied up. He’s a bit of a narcotic control freak- he’s spent his whole life trying to be in control, so it’s harder to get him to cave.

⋆ You’ll have to be more methodical in your approach. It will take awhile for him to to want to be pegged, so you start small- with slow and sopping blowjobs, feeling him trying to thread his hands through your hair. Everytime he reaches out for you, you’ll remove your lips from his cock, and his lip will curl with annoyance. At first he’ll be angry, constantly trying to give you commands, but it’s useless unless he wants to cum. By the end of it, you’ll have the man begging for your mouth back on his member, through raw tears from being edged hours on end.

⋆ Jeremiah will beg, and that level of submission will break him. From then on, he’ll trust you more, and realize his brother might be right- it is fun to let go. From then on, the two of them will practically worship you.

⋆ They are both big fans of being overstimulated. Jerome will be whining, rolling his head and eyes back, tongue out his mouth. You’ll watch his chest heave with each stroke, sticky cum staining your hand and sheets. Restraints holding him firmly in place. Jeremiah will be murmuring senseless pleads for you to stop, but when he cums over and over, he can hardly complain. He will thrust up into your hand, trying desperately to pull against the ropes around his wrists and legs.

⋆ Jerome has more of a mommy kink then Jeremiah does; and it’s a sore subject for him. It slips out randomly during one of your sexcapades, and Jeremiah will look at him incredulously before laughing. It’s his turn to taunt Jerome now. THIS will get under Jerome’s skin, and he’ll go red in the face, lip trembling while he struggles not to cum right then and there from the sheer humilation.

⋆ In terms of aftercare, PLEASE take care of these boys. Jerome will be overtly clingy, and Jeremiah overtly embarrassed. Jeremiah will insist he takes a shower first, and Jerome will be glad to have your sole attention in the mean time.

⋆ Both of them aren’t used to being taken care of. And both of them feel infinitely grateful. When I say they would do anything for you, I mean anything. Que Jeremiah watching you clean him up, looking at you like your the only pure thing in the world from lidded eyes. Jerome is equally as intrigued, never being treated with a soft touch before you.

⋆ Expect playful banter by the time you clean them up, mostly from Jerome. You’ll be cuddled up together in the sheets, Jerome’s head laying on your thighs, and Jeremiah’s head laid between your breasts.

⋆ “So…Y/N, which one of us has the bigger dick?”

⋆ “You two are literally identical, Jerome.”

⋆ “She just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s obviously me.” Jeremiah will snidely chime, small smirk on his face.

⋆ The sibling rivalry continues to persist, Jerome sticking his tongue out at him and blowing a raspberry on your thighs, which tickles.

⋆ Like I said, you have these two boys wrapped around your finger.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - Epilogue

Source for pic

The Great Pretender Epilogue

Word Count: 4679

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: This is it, everyone! The end! Oh, I'm so emotional right now. Maybe I should've hold off a bit before posting this, but I really wanted to share it with you all. Honestly, I hope you love it. Please tell me all about it in a comment, or in an ask, in a DM, whatever you feel like it, I would like to know if this made you feel happy, sad, angry, all of the above! But ultimately, I want to thank each and every one of you for taking this journey with me!

|Masterlist| | |Chapter 17|

Law’s hands slither to your waist, his touch far more rattled than his usually composed embrace. He steps impossibly closer, and your back presses flush against the door while an almost soundless whimper escapes your lips. He uses that opening to slide his tongue into your mouth, and you sigh into his kiss. 

You’ve missed this.

The easy way you two fit together, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the urgency in each touch and each kiss. 

But as your fingers entwine in his hair, they ground you in a harsh reality: Doflamingo. You need to stop this. 

Parting the kiss with a groan, you lower your gaze, breathless and dazed, trying hard to compose your thoughts so you can utter intelligible words. “Law… Law!” You urge, removing your hands from the temptation of feeling more of him against your skin and trapping them against your legs in closed fists. “We can’t.”

Yet he doesn’t heed your words. His hands go back to cupping your cheeks, lifting your face to his and claiming your lips once more, like he’s a man dying of starvation and you’re his only source of sustenance. “Hush, love. Later.” Then he feeds some more on your luscious lips, his source of life.

Your legs lose strength, and so does your determination. Surely a few more stolen kisses and touches won’t do much harm? The damage is already done, and you’re only going to do damage control.

Just a few more kisses…

No.

“Law!” You say more firmly, your hands pressing against his chest to keep him a breath away. “Please… we can’t do this.” Your plea is nothing more than a broken whine, and that seems to catch Law’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice deep with want and need, filled with longing and despair. 

Deep breaths.

“Please, Law. Pretend I wasn’t here. We can’t do this. I’m not supposed to be near you, I wasn’t even supposed to speak with you, let alone kiss you!” Your watery eyes are already producing more tears, so Law takes a step back.

“So it is my uncle, isn’t it?” You nod, too scared to say anything else. This fleeting moment felt like a dream, a small interlude in the abyss of pain that surrounds you, but you can’t let it linger. “What did he say he’d do to you? I’ll talk to him, I–...”

Shaking your head, you try to think about how much you should share with Law, but he doesn’t let you think, much less speak. 

“I can’t bear to be apart from you anymore, not when I know that nothing happened, not when I know you still love me… I can make him retract his threats, he’ll listen to me.”

Oh, how you want to hope. The words Law weaves are beautiful, like a siren song to your ears, but you know Doflamingo won't give up that easily. He decided you are not worth his nephew’s time, so he’ll never relent. You know enough about manipulative, arrogant men to understand they never give up once they set their mind to something.

You wish you didn’t know, though. 

“What did he say? What threats did he make? Was it about your father?” A low rumble rolls in waves from his chest before he speaks. “Was he threatening you directly? Your health?”

You keep shaking your head, he’ll never get there alone if you don’t say something. Even if Law doesn’t trust his uncle, those family values Doffy instilled in him are still very strong. 

He lets his thumb graze your lips again, a show of the deep devotion he feels, once more making true to his claim of not being able to part with you. “What is it, then? Tell me.”

A heavy sigh signals your resignation. Your fingers climb up his jawline in a sweet caress, but you still try. One last effort to keep him away, even though it will destroy you both. Gently twirling his earring, you soften your gaze. 

“We don’t have a future together, Law…” The words are like ash in your mouth, leaving it dry and unsavoury, crumbling into a pile of lies you never meant to build.

To his credit, though, he doesn’t even flinch. “Stop it, sweetheart. That’s not going to work.” Law presses his forehead against yours again, and his sigh breathes life into you. Obviously, it wouldn’t work. You weren’t even trying.

“He… your uncle threatened to destroy your clinic, Law… all your work, just gone!”

Law takes a step back, his eyes widening slightly for a fraction of a second, but his control quickly falls into place as he subtly nods, like he almost couldn’t believe it but ultimately expected something of the sort. 

“I could deal with whatever threat he made towards me. Thanks to you, I know just how strong I can be… but… but not a threat to everything you’ve been working for, Law! I could never jeopardise what you’ve built! And now…” You try to hold your grief back by hugging yourself.

“My clinic? He would stoop that low…?” His hand tousles his hair as the familiar crease between his brows returns. 

“He did. And that’s why I’ll leave and never come back. We can pretend nothing happened, we just can’t see each other again and–...”

“Sweetheart…”

“He won’t find out! Or even if he somehow realises I came here, once we never speak to each other again, he won’t fulfil his threat!”

“Love!”

“We just… we just…” You exhale half a sob and tighten your grip on yourself. “It’s simple, really… you carry on with your life, and I–...”

The authoritative way in which he speaks your name makes your thoughts stop spiralling and your lips stop rambling. With a firm touch, Law disentangles your arms from around your frame and wraps them around his waist, stepping closer to you, his amber gaze never leaving yours. 

“I don’t know where you got the silly notion that I care more about my work than I care for you, but it’s not true.” Law laces his fingers through your hair as he settles his hand on your nape. His other hand gently caresses your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone… a lover’s touch.

Something you can never give up, no matter how hard you try to do what’s right for him. 

“But, Law–...”

“No buts, sweetheart. What do I always tell you?” A smirk twists his lips upwards, and warmth fills your chest, already expecting the words that come next. “I got this.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, a real smile pulls at the corners of your lips as he takes them in another searing kiss. He’s got this. He’s Trafalgar Law, there’s nothing that can stop him.

-*-

You and Law lose track of time in each other’s arms. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves when you were together for twenty-four hours, let alone now that you’ve been apart for so long. 

He continuously assures you that he will speak with his uncle in person, but somehow, your fears have been assuaged. As usual Law’s cool and calm approach to things grounds you and stops you from spiralling too hard.

When he finally goes to his desk to cancel any appointments he has for tomorrow, since he plans to go to the city to talk with Doflamingo, he lets out a muffled curse followed by a chuckle. 

“It’s past closing time, love.”

What? You’ve been lost in each other for hours? How can that be? Fishing your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you confirm the time and see the messages Shanks left for you. Most of them are happy emojis and encouraging words. Then there’s one that says he’s going to take the truck home and that you should get a ride to Law’s apartment, followed by some winky emojis and a speech about safety and protection that you choose to ignore. 

But Law is probably thinking about the same thing because he’s shutting down his computer and the lights, his hand stretched out for you to grab as he navigates you both through the dark clinic, locking up behind him. 

You can still feel a little prickle of uncertainty twisting your stomach, a shiver of dread still coursing through your veins, but Law’s presence is steady and solid. 

He’s got this.

-*-

Law grits his teeth together as he crosses and uncrosses his legs for the umpteenth time in the span of ten minutes. He shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not the first time he’s faced his uncle to stand on something he believes in. 

Though he’s never really won any of those battles. Not on his own, anyway. Cora was always there to vouch for him, help him, and calm tensions when they inevitably started to climb. 

Law and Doffy can never have a serious conversation without it completely escalating. 

That’s why it’s so paramount that today he’s able to stay cool and collected. He needs to win this battle. And if he can keep his cool together for everyone else, why should his uncle be any different?

Still, he can’t help the uneasiness from making him slightly nauseous, so he cracks his neck with a slow, rotating motion to try and ease off the edge. Doflamingo is making him wait on purpose, he knows that. 

He just needs to remain calm. 

“Mr. Trafalgar, your uncle is ready to see you now.”

Law inhales sharply as he gets up and buttons his black blazer. He’s got this.

He’s been to his uncle’s office quite a few times, but the opulence of it never ceases to amaze him. It’s a penthouse office, bigger than some people’s houses. Its windows go from top to bottom and overlook the busy streets below, like a reminder that Doffy is always above everyone else. 

Doflamingo doesn’t get up from behind his desk to greet him. He peers at Law from behind his tinted glasses, an eerie smile twisting his lips upwards as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwining in his lap.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my dear nephew. What brings you to the city, Law?” Then he gasps as he moves forward, and Law takes his seat across from him. “No, that’s not the real question. What I mean is: what brings you to your family’s firm? A place you tend to avoid, even when you’re required…?”

Law knows Doflamingo is very aware of why he’s there. Actually, Law is pretty sure Doffy already knows you and Law connected, but he doesn’t plan on showing all of his cards right now.

“You know why I’m here, Doffy.”

“Yes. And alone. How surprising.” Doffy chuckles slowly. “You’re finally becoming a big man? You don’t need the support of my foolish brother to fight your own battles this time?”

He’s taunting Law, trying to distract him, to make him lose control of his emotions, as he so easily and usually does. 

“This is my own battle, and one I don’t intend to lose, Uncle.”

“How daring of you, Nephew.” Doffy relaxes back into his chair again, one hand absently caressing his jaw as he regards Law with interest. “Speak your terms, I’m all ears.”

“I know you tried to push her away from me. I know it was you who orchestrated that performance, perfectly played by Vinsmoke. I know, Uncle.”

Doflamingo smiles, and Law almost perceives a hint of pride behind the light lenses. 

“What you need to know is that I can make my own choices, even if they hurt me, even if they’re the wrong choices, I have to make them. You can’t protect me from everything, especially when the one who ends up hurting me most is you.”

Doffy’s smile falters and he swallows hard.

Law takes another deep breath. “I love her. I want to be with her. She’s not the wrong choice, she was always the right one. Uncle… let me be happy.”

For a fraction of a moment, Law sees a bit of compassion in Doffy’s eyes, but as soon as it appears, it vanishes, replaced by another wicked grin. Law should’ve known better than to expect this to be easy. 

“Love is not the key to happiness, Law. You should know that by now. Love makes you weak, it makes you lose sight of the really important things like–...”

“Power? Wealth? Influence?” Law’s hands turn to fists and he traps them against his lap, trying to control the snarl threatening to break through his clenched teeth. “I know all of that! You’ve been trying to instil those notions on me since I was a ten-year-old lost boy, filled with grief and guilt from losing my family!”

Law’s hands shake, and his chest heaves with effort. He needs to remain calm. He can’t win anything if he loses control, that’s what Doflamingo wants. 

“Yes. No matter how hard you take it, Law, those things are what make the world turn. Power, wealth, and influence are what fuel the hearts of people, and that is what’s necessary to keep you in a position of–...”

“I don’t care, Uncle! I never meant to be a figure of authority or influence! I just want to be happy and save people’s lives!” Law gets up, too fidgety to remain still, and starts to pace the big office. “All I want is for little kids not to have to lose their families to accidents or disease. I want to make a difference…” His shoulders slump as he stops behind the chair he was sitting on, his amber gaze fixed on Doflamingo’s, the cool control completely overrun by raw emotion. “I want her.”

“Are you willing to lose all you’ve worked for just for her?” Doffy’s words are calculating, and Law came prepared for this outcome. It’s not one he wanted. If he could choose, he’d walk away from this meeting with both his clinic and you. But if this is what it takes…

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. Let’s talk. I have a proposition for you.”

-*-

You can barely focus on your job the next morning, and by the time your shift ends and you get home, you’re full on spiralling. Has Law spoken with Doflamingo already? How did it go?

You don’t have any missed calls or messages on your phone, and you don’t want to call him and risk interrupting something, so you have to wait. He told you he’d call once the meeting was over. 

You just have to wait. You can do this.

“Bug? Did you hear a word I said?” Shanks looks at you with a half-smirk painting his lips while you make a mess by pouring coffee onto an upside-down mug.

“Shit!” You mumble before grabbing a rag to clean up the mess while Shanks chuckles. “No, dad, I didn’t, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Is everything alright? I thought you and Law had patched things up.”

You smile nervously at him while he helps with the mess. “We did, but… it’s complicated.” Then you explain a bit about Doflamingo and how much influence he holds over Law while you share a mug of coffee. The conversation with Shanks actually helps distract you, and time flies. Though, as soon as your phone starts to ring, you excuse yourself and run outside as Shanks yells at you not to run on the porch steps, something he said every day when you were a little girl. 

“Law?”

“I told you I had this, love.”

Your easy laugh brings tears to your eyes. Of course, he had it. Law’s finally free of his uncle’s threats, and you can stop worrying. 

You have a future. A bright, beautiful future with the man you love. 

It almost seems impossible to believe. 

-*-

Sweat still clings to your bodies as you lie in the crumpled sheets. You’re in Law’s apartment again, and you’re not sure you’ll ever want to spend another night away from him. You’re an adult, so Shanks doesn’t even pry, but you know he’s happy for both of you, since he has a soft spot for Law. 

Lying your head against Law’s chest and hearing his erratic heartbeat after he makes love to you has become something you’re quite addicted to. It’s soothing, grounding, and familiar. He’s your home.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your naked back as he lays soft kisses on your head, letting you have this moment until his heartbeat retreats to a normal pace. 

“How did you do it?” You were so happy when he returned from his meeting with Doffy that you barely had time to talk about how it went before he dragged you to his bed, chasing away all the tension you had accumulated over the past weeks, making you lose control over and over again until you could barely think.

“We agreed on some terms.” 

“How cryptic.” You tease, moving your head and leaning your chin on his chest so you can gaze into the soft amber of his eyes. “What terms?”

Law sighs, and the crease between his eyebrows forms in record time. Will he ever tell you all the details of what transpired in this meeting?

“I’m going to dedicate much more of my time to the family’s business.” A strained smile forms on his lips, and your heart sinks.

“No, Law! You hate it.”

Cupping your cheek against his palm, he strokes your skin gently. “I do. But it’s a very small price to pay. And I can attend meetings on the computer, so they won’t know if I’m listening or playing solitaire.” He jokes, but you find it hard to laugh. 

“Don’t joke, Law. How about clinic hours? Your hospital shifts?” You don’t want to voice it, but you fear this will also steal the little time you can find on his busy schedule to just be together and ‘date’!

Maybe that was Doflamingo’s plan all along when he agreed to this. 

He kisses the tip of your nose affectionately while you frown. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll still have time for everything.” Once again, he reads you like a book. He knows what you truly meant, even if you were also worried about him not having enough time to dedicate to his patients. “The important thing is that Doffy backed off. He understood I would never give you up and his threats were empty and futile. I won.”

“But so did he, Law… wasn’t that what he wanted all along? For you to dedicate yourself to his business? Hasn’t he been grooming you for that since you were young?”

“Sure. But I’ll say it again: small price to pay.” With a swift movement, he turns you, pinning you under him and slotting himself in the middle of your parted legs, a sly grin curving his lips. “You’re the only thing I can’t afford to lose.”

A wistful sigh escapes your lips as you give up your argument. There’s no point in insisting with him. As long as he’s happy and you’re together, you’re happy too.

“I love you, Law.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Law nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as his tongue swirls sinful patterns on your skin. “Where were we?”

With a giggle you surrender yourself to him. All of yourself, without restrictions, qualms, or fears. Law’s yours, and you’re his.

Not in a possessive, toxic way, but in a way that lets you know both of you would go to the ends of the earth and back if that’s what it took to be close to one another. 

-*-

Weeks pass slowly, and as you predicted, you spend most nights at Law’s. He is busier, there’s no denying it. Even though he tried to downplay it at first, his involvement with the family’s business takes more of his time than either of you wished.

But you both manage. Law learns to stamp his feet now and then, demanding more free time, and it seems Doflamingo likes it when he’s assertive because he grants him just that. Though you suspect Cora also plays an important part in keeping Doffy in check.

You both go on a lot of dates. And if at first it seems a little silly, since you skipped a lot of steps, it soon becomes endearing. Law brings you flowers and picks you up at Shanks’ as if you’re still getting to know one another.

That makes Shanks laugh, and he fake-threatens Law to bring you back before curfew and treat you like a lady, ‘or else’, knowing well enough that you’ll be spending the night away. But Law plays into the act and promises he’ll behave.

He doesn’t.

And that’s the first time you have car sex with Law. 

He takes you to expensive places to eat and to food trucks. You watch movies at the theatre and at drive-ins. There are walks in the park and sweet weekend escapades to whimsical locations or tourist traps. 

It’s blissful. 

You love every second of it, and everything just cements what you knew almost from the beginning. Law is the one. He’s the one you want to spend your life with. 

-*- 

It’s a lazy Sunday. The clinic is closed, and Law has a day off from the hospital. You spent the day baking cookies and bingeing trashy tv shows. Now, you both lie on the rumpled sheets of his bed, the warm glow of the sunset seeping through the curtains of Law’s room, tracing new patterns on his inked chest, which you trace diligently with your fingers. 

Law is eerily quiet, so you prop yourself up on one elbow to gaze into his face. A contemplative look mars his features and he looks deep in thought. For a second, your mind wanders to his uncle, and you’re not sure if you should pry, but before you can ask, Law opens his mouth to speak.

“I never told you much about my parents, have I?” His voice is thick with emotion, and you hold in a breath as well as his gaze.

“No, but it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You realise it’s a touchy subject, something far too painful for him to speak freely about. 

“I need you to know everything about me. I don’t want anything left unsaid between us.” With a nod you wait for him to continue, giving him all the time and space he needs to share what he needs to share. “They were very caring people, full of joy and love, and though they were both doctors and had busy professional lives, they always had time to play with their children. They raised me as a happy child, my sister and me. We would butt heads, as most siblings do, but I loved her to bits and pieces. There was always laughter in our household.”

Your throat feels tight with emotion as Law’s eyes become glassy with unshed tears, the weight of a lifelong pain he can’t shake off. 

“Then it all fell apart. I lost all of them in an instant… and got left behind. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why I had survived. It was almost as if the universe had made a cruel mistake, because why had they died - when they were wonderful people - and I had been the one to survive? It didn’t make sense.”

You can’t stop the trembling of your lips, but you squeeze Law’s hand, too afraid to say something because you know you’ll just fall apart and he needs to finish sharing. A small smile pulls at his lips as he gazes back into your eyes, a hand lying in a sweet caress on your cheek. 

“One of the reasons I became a doctor was exactly that. To try and make amends, to save others from the same fate that befell me. To repent. Though I never let myself believe I was destined for true happiness.” You can’t stop the tears from falling, staining your cheeks. Law brushes a thumb over them, and his smile deepens. “Until you. You made me believe that maybe fate left me alive for a reason other than just surviving.”

A soft sob shakes your shoulders, and Law gently pulls you to him, kissing your lips softly. You pour all your love into that kiss, he needs to know how much he means to you. There are promises of love between kisses and tears, and it all feels so raw and vulnerable. It warms your heart to understand that Law trusts you enough to share his deepest fears and regrets. 

After an emotional moment, you break the closeness with a sheepish smile. “You know…” You begin in a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood. “If this were real, this would be the part where I comfort you and say something really deep, but since we’re just pretending…” You trail off, and Law chuckles, your words relieving him of the burden of the past as he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes. 

“If this were real,” he teases, entering your game with a glint in his eyes, “this would be the part where I tell you that the universe placed you in my path because we were always destined to be together.”

A real laugh leaves your lips, and you brush away the last remnant of tears from your eyes. “And if this were real, this would be the part where I’d call you a romantic sap, even though I enjoy it thoroughly.”

Law sits up, his smirk widening as he faces you with affection. “And if this were real, this would be the part where I’d make a grand, romantic gesture just to prove to you how serious I really am.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips, but your breath hitches when Law opens his nightstand drawer, taking out a small velvet box. Your heart races against your chest as you sit up, your smile turning into a surprised awe. 

“And if this were real,” Law continues, his voice deeper, moved by raw emotion as he opens the box. “I’d be holding a ring just like this one.” 

Your breaths leave you in trembling gasps as your eyes dart from the ring to his face and back to the ring again. “Law…” You whisper, throat thick with emotion. 

“And if this were real, love,” he’s also slightly breathless, “this would be where I ask you to marry me.”

Tears spill down your cheeks again, your hand covering your open mouth as you’re overwhelmed with joy and love. All you’ve been through, all the happy times, the uncertainty, the pain… you both came out of it stronger.

“If this were real,” you start, your voice coming between hitches and sobs and the occasional nervous laugh, “this would be the part where I would say yes.”

Law’s smile widens, and with slightly trembling fingers, he grasps your hand and slips the ring into place. You laugh along with a sob, barely believing what’s happening. Then he pulls you into his arms, having you sit on his lap, both with the hugest grins on your faces.

But before he leans in to kiss you, you stop him, a quizzical look on your face. “Just so we’re clear, this is real, right?”

Law’s laugh is like a balm to your soul. A deep, rich timbre that fills your heart and swells, expands, taking over your body and making you feel complete. 

“This is very real, sweetheart, and you’ve just made me the happiest man alive. I love you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, you manage to whisper a shaky ‘I love you too’ before crashing your lips against his. 

If you could’ve saved Shanks the suffering, you would, but you will never not be grateful for the fact that he needed to be operated on by Law, or you wouldn’t have met the man of your dreams. 

THE END

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

[dtfpeta]

Feverish | Ghost x Fem Reader

Tags: sick!simon, sub!simon, dry humping, p in v sex, penetration

Summary: Simon is sick and thinks he knows how to break a fever with the help of his girlfriend

Word count: 1.4k

Read here on ao3! __________

He only had a small cold. Or at least, what was a small cold. And of course he acted like a helpless animal, asking you to feed him, bring him an assortment of medicines, and help him walk to the bathroom where he would then, ask you to bathe him. A cheeky smile that he hardly tried to hide displaying on his face.

You of course, didn’t mind caring for your afflicted boyfriend.

“You can’t take another Benadryl, Simon. You just had one.” Simon always prided himself on his flawless immune system. Now that his body has been compromised by harmful bacteria he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. But thank god he had you. For the past two days all he could do was mumble and groan from the couch. Exasperated “ehhgg’s” and whines of sickness filling the living room as the over 6 foot man struggled to lift his arms, begging for your help with the remote.

That’s why it surprised you to feel the searing warmth of his arms wrap around your waist as you stood in the kitchen. Your working hands coming to a stop on the meal you were preparing.

“Si- You’ve already contaminated our living room! I’ll be damned if I’m next…” You argued while attempting to shrug out of his grasp, finding your efforts ineffective. Over the past couple days you had made a valiant effort to sanitize the house and frequently wash your hands. You know Simon would take care of you if you fell sick, but you also knew that the idea of wallowing in the two of yous illness together was appealing to him as well.

“Mm, needa break this fever-” He murmured while burying his face into the crook of your neck. Laying hot kisses in his wake.

“Then let me make you a cup of tea. Or go take a warm shower don’t-!” His hands began to roam your body. Grasping at the skin of your stomach before moving to knead at your chest.

“Not what I had in mind” His words came out breathless. Whether that was because of his aroused state, his clogged sinuses, or both, you weren’t sure. But the needy grips his calloused hands laid on your body began to have an effect on you.

“You can go a few days can’t you?” Simon responded with an unconcerned hum, a low groan soon leaving the back of his throat as he grabbed your hips. Grinding his half hard erection against the flesh of your ass.

“You’ve been so good t’me. Can you help me some more?” His fingers dug deeper into your flesh, rutting the length of his bulge languidly against your backside. “Please.” He whined.

His hand came up to your neck, his index and thumb taking your chin and turning your face to meet his. It was too late to save yourself when his lips met yours, his tongue greedily working the wet room of your mouth as his hands massaged your breasts.

You sighed into the kiss, accepting the hunger that overtook you as well as the heat that gathered between your thighs. You soon gasped into Simon’s embrace as he was now turning you to face him, one hand resting on the back of your thigh as the other moved behind you. Haphazardly pushing the cutting board to the side so he could swiftly lift to place you on top of the counter. The cold stone of the counter caused you to arch your back as you pushed your chest into Simon, who now hurried to remove your top and bra. Exposing your hard nipples to the cold of the air that had previously worked to cool Simon’s fever, which only proved to be a futile attempt as the crimson on his cheeks only grew.

Simon pulled your waist so his erection could meet your clothed core. His eyes hung low with a fevered lust as you moved your hips to work against him. The both of you moaning as Simon hung his head forward between your chest, releasing sinful whimpers as he urgently rutted into you.

“Need ya’. Now” He demanded. Your brain began to cloud with its own brand of Simon induced fog. He was so desperate that you only wanted to provide for him.

Your boyfriend hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts pulling them down alongside your damp underwear to your ankles. Kicking them to the floor as he lowered his boxers and sweatpants, Simon revealed his hard cock, the tip smeared with a bead of pre-cum that you reached to run your fingers against.

He shuddered at the sudden attention from your delicate touch. His body was practically on fire. Having to separate himself from you only caused him to become pent up, needy for any attention that you would provide his weeping cock. Your hand wrapped around his length as you stroked him with expertise. Heavy breaths flooded the room. He placed his hands on the edge of the counter to steady himself as you worked his shaft. Your left hand came to cradle the side of his face. ‘Poor thing’

You twisted your hand around him, your thumb swirling the sensitive skin of his head as you whispered in his ear. “Is this helping you hun?”

His head nodded fiercely against your neck. “Mmm Mhm, thank you-” His delicious whines filled your ears as he began to lightly shake. Your own sex was becoming neglected when your left hand lifted his face so his eyes could meet yours.

“Can I fuck you,” he near but begged. “I can take care of you too.” His lips connected with yours for a passionate kiss. Butterflies spread in the pit of your stomach at his adoration for you. It wasn’t often he got like this but when he did you happily let him succumb to his urges. He parted his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connecting to your now glossy lips, and Simon still pumping himself into your hand. “Make you feel good.” He enticed.

You nodded your head when he took the head of his cock to swipe between your folds. Circling the slickened tip around your swollen clit and dragging it back in between your folds. His hands came to rest softly against your lower waist, thumbs digging into the crest between your thighs and torso. He began to push his length into your hot walls, his eyes closing to keep him from cumming right then and there.

“F-fuck” He sputtered pushing himself deeper into your core.

“Simon, please” Your legs lifted to wrap your calfs around his back. Your heels now digging into his ass to encourage his strokes. Simon got the message and pushed the rest of his cock into your begging cunt. Engulfing him with a boiling heat as you began adjusting to his size. He began to move in and out of you. His eyes locked to yours as he provided your pussy with slow, hard thrusts.

Each slap of his skin against yours elicited a moan from your lips that he returned with animalistic grunts of his own. 2 days too many away from your perfect cunt, and he was never a man of patience.

Your pussy squelched as he dragged the full length of his cock out of you before bottoming out again. His hand moved to the back of your head, bringing you in for a messy kiss while the other moved to your clit. Simon was amazed he had even lasted this long and as his orgasm began to approach its horizon he worked to bring yours to as well. You gasped into the kiss. His hand quickening its assault as his thrusts entered you at a new angle. Simon pistoning his cock against the patch of nerves that lay within your walls, your hold on him beginning to tighten as he talked you through your imminent climax.

“Cum on my cock pretty girl. I know you need it. I need it.” His words came out in a gravel like tone. He couldn’t hold it in any longer when your cunt began to spasm around his shaft, milking his own release from him as the coil in your stomach snapped. You threw your head back, your mouth falling agape as Simon growled against your neck. His hot seed filled you with a satiating intensity.

“So,” your breathing now labored, “So good Si.” Your hand came to massage the back of scalp as he littered your neck with kisses.

It wouldn’t be until another 2 days when he denied his involvement in your oncoming fever. His own having been broken when he suggested a new at home remedy to cure you.

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself, sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you, but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himself. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[damn-stark]

Chapter 14 Autumn sadness

Chapter 14 of Moonlight

A/N- Aemond stop being horny for your wife challenge (Impossible)

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, Aegon!, mentions of sexual harassment, angst, fluff, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x04

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“Here again?” You query while you shade your eyes from the luminous sun starting to peek over the roof of the Dragonpit. “Another rendezvous?” You smile.

Aemond looks away from Aerion in his arms and shakes his head. “No, it’s something else.”

You squint your eyes and probe for more. “Like?”

Before Aemond can answer a Kingsguard shouting catches your attention. “Stand back!”

You look over and notice some Smallfolk trying to approach the stairs in an attempt to reach you. “Princess!”

“Princess!”

“Over here!”

Unlike before this time the calls aren’t born from admiration and excitement, you can hear the desperation in their voice as they try and steal your attention. You can see the plea for help in their eyes, the helplessness, and the hunger.

“Bring us some food, please!”

Your help wasn’t widespread, you would feed and give money to those few people you came across. You were never allowed to do more than that, but your charity is well known now that they’re looking for any kind of help. Anything that can feed their growling stomachs, and needing children.

“<I told you,” Aemond remarks in High Valyrian. “Feed one stray dog and others won’t fail to follow to beg too.>”

You glance at him with a disturbed look before you take a look at all the people you can’t help when they need you the most. You have money, but what good is that when there’s hardly any food for them to buy? All you can do is offer them an apologetic look before you ignore them and drive your attention to this early morning adventure Aemond has yet to explain.

“So are you going to tell me why we’re here?” You pressure him to fill your curiosity.

Yet he just smirks at you, making you roll your eyes and focus on the building holding sacred power just under its surface.

Which is pretty unbelievable! These powerful dragons your family can ride, that you can use to burn down towns and people to ash are kept in chains under a stone building that they can easily destroy, or that can also easily be their death.

It’s crazy to think about, but it’s true isn't it? If your mother decided to come in secret with all the dragons at her side they could attack the Dragonpit, and the rubble could be the dragon's death. Your dragon's death…

Thinking of Astraea dying is worse than thinking of someone you love dying. You’ve known your dragon since you were a babe, literally, she hatched when you were only a few months old, and you haven't been apart a moment since then. She's your soulmate. Losing her would be like losing yourself.

But your mother wouldn’t be so desperate as to attack the Dragonpit and kill the power of your house, they’re sacred, powerful, and majestic. Better than any army of men…

“I wish we had more family to ride dragons,” you express what springs to mind.

“What do you mean?” Aemond quickly follows up on your comment.

“Just that,” you counter with growing excitement as this idea keeps unfurling. “If we had more family we could trust, they could ride the other dragons that reside at Dragonstone. All who had riders in the past.”

Aemond gives you all his attention as his interest is completely stolen by what you’re trying to get at.

“There’s Vermithor,” you list the dragons that live in Dragonstone, on your fingers. “Silverwing, and…my father's dragon, Seasmoke.”

Thoughts turn behind Aemond’s eye before it all seems to come to a halt as he comes up with a conclusion. “We don’t need the other dragons, we have Vhagar.”

You scoff and get closer to him to argue for a sole worry, his safety. “Yes, but Vhagar and Sunfyre alone won’t win against my mother's dragons. They have 5 to your two, or three if you count me,” you add.

“There’s Tessarion,” he brings up the forgotten son, making you quickly brush him off.

“Still not enough, he’s young—Do you want to know what Daemon wanted to do when he found out Aegon was crowned?” You share with a bit of desperation, which is why you don’t let him answer. “He wanted to attack King’s Landing with all the dragons. Tell me if Vhagar would’ve survived that?”

Aemond looks ahead and answers with silence because he knows you’re right. He doesn’t want to admit that though, so instead he deflects with a question that he’s been wondering about since the war started. “Would you have attacked me with them?”

There’s nothing to think about, you know this answer as clear as day. “No,” you admit confidently. “I wasn’t mad at you then. I told you…I missed you.”

Aemond’s guard falls, and his eye falls on Aerion before he looks back at you with his eye reflecting the sun's beams peeking over the roof.

“You know,” you finally have a chance to admit something you haven’t talked about, and something he hasn’t asked out of fear of what you’d say? Who knows.

“If I knew what Daemon wanted to do I…don’t think I would have let him go through with it. Even if I thought I hated you at the time.” You swallow thickly and a breath escapes past his lips, making him collect himself to finally dig into this matter that has been running in his head.

“Where were you?” He asks.

You sigh and briefly steal a glance at the approaching entrance. “We were in the North,” you say quietly. “When we arrived at Dragonstone Daemon was not there anymore. I didn’t even know about his plan until the next day after I returned from Driftmark. And when I did find out,” you pause and sigh deeply before you meet his curious eye as he waits for more.

“Before Jacaerys could finish telling me what actually happened I was struck with fear…my world went dark when I thought you were killed,” you admit and feel yourself grow flustered as he keeps his eye on you. “And then when Jacaerys finished telling me the news I was horrified. You believe me right? I would never have let Daemon kill Jaehaerys.”

Panicked tears well in your eyes and he quickly assures you.

“I know.”

You nod in comprehension and breathe out that slight panic that just rattled you. “Anyway,” you continue with what you started with. “I couldn’t fathom you being killed, so it’s lucky that you were gone,” you feign a laugh. “I mean I’m not glad where you were, but it saved you so.”

Aemond comes to a stop, and you climb to the top before you stop and face him with a quizzical brow.

“I was not at the brothel because I sought lust,” he says again to get it through your mind and heart, but this time he adds something else that makes your heart skip a beat. “I did not think you would return home, I needed to talk to someone.”

A smile slowly spreads on your lips and you climb down to be in front of him before you assure him of one thing. “We would have found our way to each other eventually. I believe that. We’re one heart, one soul, one flesh. We literally drank each other's blood.”

He scoffs softly and you grin, making bliss glimmer in his eye and pull a soft smile to his own lips before he reaches over to cup your cheek and gently stroke your flesh.

You swoon at the touch and can’t help but reach over to grab his hand and hold his warmth.

There’s so much both of you can say on the aspect, you can reminisce about the past when getting married was a prospect that excited you both, and that you wanted more than anything. You could admit that fear is something you don’t feel when he’s close, but it is something he does feel because of the love he harbors for you. Yet neither of you says anything.

Your love is shared through the windows of your soul, right there on top of the steps, under the soft morning sky, with your son as a witness. Actually, he’s the one who interrupts the moment when he notices you just a hair's breadth away by reaching for your cheek with his little hand to try and grab you the same way Aemond was grabbing you.

When Aemond and you notice, you both share a laugh.

“<Beautiful, huh?>” Aemond directs at Aerion with a proud smile, making you giggle before you fall by Aemond’s side and hook your arm around his.

“Now,” you move this moment along by making him continue forward, and by moving on with this conversation. “Will you tell me why we’re here with our son?”

The corner of his lips tug up and he looks at you with a mischievous look that intrigues you.

“Spill,” you encourage him.

“Shrykos, the dragon egg chosen for Jaehaerys hatched the other day,” Aemond reveals, making your lips part with surprise—“I wanted to bring Aerion in hopes they will bond.”

You blink in surprise, but that quickly transforms into nothing but worry that knits your eyebrows and pushes you to share your concern. “But won’t Aegon be mad that you’re trying to bond Aerion to Shrykos?”

Aemond scoffs. “Why should he?” He retorts as walks you inside the dimmed arena. “Shrykos is free to claim now. It doesn’t belong to him.”

Is that what he said about Vhagar too?

“Hm, I suppose you’re right, but Aerion is still a babe,” you express more building-up worry. “He can’t defend himself if it doesn’t work.”

“I will have my blade ready,” Aemond makes sure to quickly assure you, but nothing he says actually gets rid of that feeling weighing down on you. Especially not when you reach the hall where the hatchlings and eggs are kept. It starts to feel like you’re lacking fresh air to breathe.

If anything happens to Aerion you’ll go mad.

“Aemond,” you try to express your worry, but he turns to assure you again.

“It will be fine, the keepers are here, and I have my hand on my pommel. I won’t let anything happen to our son.”

You hold his gaze to take more of that reassurance you need before you approach the stone table where Aemond sits Aerion, and where they have Shrykos’ carrier.

“<Since the one trying to bond is a babe, there won’t be commands, we will have to trust they communicate from within, the way you also communicate with your dragons.>” One of the keepers explains, making you clench your fists before you press your hands on the table to be ready to snatch Aerion if it all goes wrong.

“<Ready?>” The second keeper asks and looks between Aemond and you, making you and Aemond share a short speechless look before he answers with a nod.

The keeper then unties the crate's latch and lets a small swamp-green hatchling slowly crawl out of the darkness of her crate.

At first, it seems too timid to fully leave its crate, it stands there and tilts its little green head while her orange eyes focus on Aerion directly ahead of him.

Aemond and you share a curious look that's also mixed with worry that steals more of your breaths, and triggers your heart to race; causing the blood in your veins to pump rapidly, whilst also making your hands tremble.

Aemond notices your fear taking over, he senses it too because he feels concerned too, so he reaches over and wraps his hand around yours, letting a deep breath escape through your nose, and making your racing heart find some ease.

Yet not enough, it still thumps as you watch the hatchling completely leave her crate with her eyes locked on Aerion. All the while your babe glances over at you with no idea what’s going on; he doesn’t seem to be scared, he just steals a glimpse at Aemond and you before he returns his attention to the dragon and tries to reach for it.

Shrykos seems curious by Aerion’s movements so she crawls forward without that initial timidness that held her back before. She comes to a stop in front of Aerion and tilts her head to the side to look at him.

Aemond lets your hand go and uses both hands to hold his blade's handle and pull half of it out of his sheath. You lift your hands off the table and leave them out to be ready.

Aerion coos and leans forward to try and get a hold of the dragon, seeming to attract Shrykos to Aerion’s legs. That's when the babe finally brushes his little fingers over the dragon's head and smiles.

Shrykos blinks and her pupils seem to dilate before she coos back and suddenly climbs on Aerion to wrap itself around his shoulders and nuzzle her head against his cheek, making Aerion squeal.

You gasp and turn to look at Aemond at the same time he turns to look at you. Nothing is shared at first, but when you grasp that Aerion bonded with Shrykos you both share a proud smile.

“<It's done,” one of the keepers confirms what you concluded. “They are now bonded.>”

All the tension escapes you and you can’t help but grin and hug Aemond’s arm before he reaches over and takes Aerion in his arms with a proud grin on his long face.

“Good job, my boy,” you coo at Aerion as you stroke his cheek, but the boy is too focused on his dragon to pay any attention to you.

“Now no one will look down on you, my boy,” Aemond whispers to Aerion before he presses a kiss on the side of his head.

Your gaze drifts to look at Aemond as you take in what he said, as you detect the hurt in his voice brought by his childhood trauma when he was dragonless and picked on for that reason alone.

“We would never have let that happen if this hadn’t worked,” you tell Aerion whilst you also reassure Aemond. “And if they tried I would have protected you like I protected your father.”

Aemond hums and leans over to press a kiss on the top of your head.

“What time is the council meeting?” You ask him as you grab his arm.

“Not until noon,” he says. “Why?”

You offer him a mischievous smile and even if you know that he takes his responsibilities seriously and that the war outside this city's gates brings a tension within the Red Keep that takes a grip around everyone's throats, what’s wrong with a little escape? What’s wrong with getting carried away in the joy and pride that is brought by Aerion bonding with a dragon?

You aren’t making him abandon his responsibilities, you’re just asking for a little escape. And surprisingly he accepts your proposal and lets you take Astraea out so you both can mount your dragons and take them to the skies with Shrykos mounted on Aemond’s shoulder since her wings are still delicate to fly long distances, and she wants to be close to Aerion, who is strapped to Aemond’s chest.

It’s true, perhaps being on dragonback out of enjoyment is insensitive, tragedy has struck the kingdoms and you are royalty. Perhaps it’s also reckless considering the blockade that doesn’t stand too far away, and maybe it’s also a bit irresponsible. There are other moments and places to take time for yourselves where there aren’t millions of desperate souls watching, but neither Aemond nor you care. What other people might think doesn’t cross your mind.

All that exists is each other upon the skies; feeling the cold sea water splash over your face as Astraea grazes the tip of her wing in the water as she flies within Vhagar’s shadow. After a moment she straightens out and flaps her wings to fly forward. When she's past Vhagar, Astraea tilts up before she spins upward to reach Vhagar’s level and cut her off.

You chuckle and it's soon carried away by the rushing breeze, but your beaming smile is something that can’t be blown away, just like the bliss that completely fills your heart. It’s actually a contagious thing, your bliss. It’s a wonder that heightens Aemond’s own happiness the moment you beam at him over your shoulder.

Now he isn’t as expressive as you, that’s something that’s always been true. You have always been the one that shines the most and it’s something that never bugged him, not then and not now. He does get bothered when other people stare too long in awe at you, but that’s only because they might try taking you away from him, that’s it. He’d never try and diminish your light, and he’s glad it hasn’t snuffed out after what he did.

He fears that this war will diminish you, but even then that wouldn’t matter, he’d still look at you with the same admiration. He’d just have to work to revive that divine light; even if his presence alone is a spark of life itself. As long as you have him close, as long as he’s alive, that luminous light that he sees but you don’t, will never die.

Doesn’t he know that he’s like the moon and stars that you cherish with your heart? He’s cool like the moon in the night sky. And like the moon and the stars, it’s impossible not to admire and love him when he’s not looking or even when his attention is focused on you, like now. He looks at you with that cool blue eye that glimmers under the sun's kiss, and you just get lost on his face not tense with trying to look intimidating; he's smiling softly without stress, his long hair is flowing back, and he’s nothing but playful in this stolen moment as you fly next to each other in understanding that whoever lands on the empty patch of land first is the winner.

However, the winner is an easy guess. It’s you and Astraea. He may have cheated by taking a shortcut, but Astraea is faster since she isn’t as old or gigantic.

Your dragon actually ends up swooping around Vhagar and Aemond, and neither of you loses eye contact, causing a tense need for each other to burn hot and only escalate when you’re on the ground with your back pressed against his chest, his lips brushing over your ear, his breaths unfurling over the goosebumps on your skin, and his hand over yours as he shows you how to practice a certain action.

“Okay, I got it. Let me do it,” you whisper and slide your feet back to your usual fighting stance; something which makes him push your feet back to the way he’s been teaching you.

“Why do you keep standing like that?” He queries.

You glance down at your stance and realize that it’s the way Cregan stands with his sword.

“When you watch different fights you pick up on different things,” you throw out as an excuse which is actually kind of true. There’s been so many others you have taken notes on so you have grasped different techniques.

“I can still kick your ass,” you tease and he huffs softly, so you show off by swiftly managing to push him back with your elbow. You then swiftly spin around and flip the sword in your hand to point the tip to his throat. In the exact same way, you saw him do it once.

“Your own move on you, my love,” you taunt with a wink.

Aemond’s eye falls on the sword before he meets your gaze and can’t help but smirk.

“You caught me off guard,” he points out, making you snort and nod.

“That’s the trick to winning isn’t it?” You tease him and start to lower the sword, leaving him the opportunity to lunge forward and capture your wrist to twist you around and yank you against him with your back pressed against his chest again.

“No fair,” you complain in a whisper as he slides his hand down to cup your hand and press it gently so you can let his sword go and be left unarmed.

“That was not right,” you add and let out a punctured breath as he drags his other hand around your torso, letting his fingers brush over the flesh your gown leaves exposed.

“I really like this gown,” he whispers against the shell of your ear and feels his way all over your body covered by the sea-green gown you wear, making you shiver and draw in the same deep breath he stole.

“You’re distracting me,” you don’t actually mean a word you say, you want him to keep touching you with those firm yet gentle touches that light your skin on fire.

“A warrior doesn’t get distracted,” he rebuttals.

You laugh breathlessly and tilt your head to the side to let his lips touch your cheek because you’re starting to ache for his mouth to be on yours, but don’t want to move away from his touch.

“This is not fair,” you keep saying and he lowers his head to press his nose against your neck and take in a deep breath of your sweet scent.

“I hate when you do that,” you murmur without actual meaning and bring one hand down to wrap it around the hand he has around you and slide it down to your hips, causing him to grip onto you with a mischievous grin.

“Aemond,” you coo out and turn your head, making your lips touch and driving you to insanity. You can’t hold back anymore, you turn around to meet his hungry eyes before you glance at his inviting lips and indulge your desire for a heated moment. You don't linger too long, you pull back rather quickly, leaving a string of saliva that connects you both until he leans in and presses a gentle peck on your lips.

“You remember what I have to do today,” he brings up.

You sigh and nod stiffly. “Yes,” you say back and pull back to meet his gaze. “I was hoping I could leave Astraea out to just protect the city while you and Vhagar are gone. I will feel better knowing she’s out on the ready.”

Aemond holds your gaze and you plead speechlessly and hope desperately.

“In truth, I would feel better if she was out too,” he says, letting you let out a relieved sigh. “I will tell Aegon, but leave her out regardless.”

Now you can send your mother her warning without risking you or anyone else.

No one will keep track of Astraea's whereabouts, and if they ask where she is you will say she’s hunting for her meal. She likes to eat fish after all.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a sweet smile.

He hums and presses a kiss on your cheek before you part away, and both speechlessly decide that you should head back to the Red Keep now.

Nevertheless, when you go to Aerion you find him asleep with his arm around Shrykos neck as she too is lost in deep slumber.

“Oh my,” you muse and touch your heart as it completely melts inside you at such a precious sight. “Look, Aemond.”

Said man sheaths his sword that was left on the ground and then walks to you. When he’s behind you also watching what you’re watching, you look back at him with a wobbly smile and happy tears in your eyes, catching him smile in awe and pride because now he doesn’t have to worry about his son getting bullied the same way he was because he didn’t have a dragon.

——

*LATER*

It’s never hard being quiet when you’re sneaking through the secret tunnels. You always make sure to take your shoes off so the heels don’t reveal your presence, while any jewelry that dangles and makes noise is tucked away. That’s easy to control, but natural occurrences like coughing or sneezing are always an aspect that terrifies you.

You'd be caught right away and there would be no excuse that could save you from any consequences.

It’s not to say you feel any urge to cough or sneeze, but it crosses your mind as you approach the window and listen to the council meeting.

“Fuck you,” is the first thing you hear Aegon spat. Graceful. “I told you we should’ve sent our dragons. And now look what’s happened. Daemon, of all people, has taken Harrenhal.”

Does he mean that in a good or bad way? Because if it’s bad then maybe he needs to really reveulate his uncle's capabilities. Not to toot Daemon's horn, but he did win the battle at the Stepstones, he knows more about war than Aegon does. It should not be surprising that Daemon took Harrenhal. He should be surprised that he has no army to defend his stance there.

“I give you a job, and now you just sit there,” Aegon’s voice rises with his frustration. “It's your fucking castle!”

“Well, that castle is more crippled than I am, Your Grace,” you hear Lord Larys defend himself, making Aegon scoff— “It’s like to drive Daemon to madness as he attempts to make use of it. It is beyond his faculties. It’s also penniless,” he adds to try and reassure Aegon. “As I happily control all of its gold. So, as Harrenhal saps Daemon’s resolve, the false Queen remains trapped on her Island and Ser Criston continues felling castles in the Crownlands.”

“Wh—” Aegon stammers whilst you hear his feet stomp about the room. “I need to be informed of these things if I’m to make informed rulings. I will not be made to look a fool in front of my allies and enemies.”

“Harrenhal must wait,” Aemond interjects, causing a breath to escape past your lips. “Ser Criston is marching on Rook’s Rest.”

So he’s finally telling them.

“Rook’s Rest—a pathetic prize,” Aegon stammers. “I gave no such command—”

“The castle is small,” Aemond cuts Aegon off as you hear a chair creak before you recognize your husband's footsteps strike the floor. “Weakly defended and Lord Staunton sits on Rhaenyra’s council. After Cole smashes it, we’ll have Dragonstone effectively cut off by land. This war will not be won with dragons alone but with dragons flying behind armies of men.”

And that is why Aemond and Ser Criston have been secretly planning because Aemond is obviously the most strategic. Sure, his plans don’t favor your family, but you can still be proud that you married someone smart right?

“No! Have him turn about,” Aegon wastes his breath. “I want Harrenhal back.”

Aemond’s footsteps once again hit the ground and you imagine he’s returning to his seat while he responds. “Cole is already preparing his attack.”

Which is why after Aemond leaves you have to send word to your mother.

“Uh, how-how do you know this?” Aegon demands to know in a more perplexed way than upset.

“He sent word to me,” Aemond reveals half the truth as you hear him sit back down.

“To you?” Aegon asks, and you can’t help but detect a bit of hurt. “The two of you have been…plotting…without my authority?”

A second of silence passes before you hear Aemond fill the hall in Valyrian. “<You had more pressing matters to attend to. Such as holding court, choosing your sobriquet, and naming imbecilic lickspittles to our Kingsguard.>”

You can’t help but smirk at Aemond’s counter, knowing damn well that Aegon is only understanding part of that.

“Mm,” Aemond hums before he goes on as if trying to make Aegon look a fool. “<Do you have a wiser strategy, my King?>”

Oh, that rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it makes you tingle.

<If so, you should voice it to your council. We all wait your answer,>” Aemond finishes saying, making that smirk on your own face deepen, while a pride grows within you and grows exponentially as Aegon takes a moment to answer.

“<I can have to…” he responds in High Valyrian hesitantly. “Make a…war?>”

You cover your mouth to stifle your laugh.

Please! His own daughter probably knows more Valyrian than he does!

What a joke.

“Mm,” Aemond hums back, causing people around the table to clear their throats in response to Aegon’s failed attempt.

“Harrenhal is a useful morass,” Aemond continues in the common tongue. “It will keep Daemon well-occupied while we strengthen our host and weaken Rhaenyra’s support on the mainland. We will deal with it in the Riverlands in time. But right now. Rook’s Rest is an easy target and a worthy effort. Don't you agree, my King?”

You lean your ear towards the window and wait for him to agree. What else can he say? He had no other plan up his sleeve that could actually rebuttal Aemond’s plan, so all he can do is agree to that plan, and Aemond’s plan to go with Vhagar too.

Maybe this will teach him to be more strategic so he doesn’t get made a fool again, which is a bit pitiful, you do admit. If he were anyone else you would feel bad that his brother keeps upstaging him and planning behind his back, but he’s Aegon. You don’t feel pity or remorse, especially not after the way he treated Aemond not long ago in that brothel. Just like your husband, you relish in his torment.

If only you could witness more, yet Aemond is left satisfied and you depart from the shadows to return to your chambers before the meeting is done and Aemond accidentally discovers you.

And leaving at the time you did ends up being a lucky choice because the moment you sit down with your book, and pretend that's what you were doing, Aemond walks in.

“My love,” he greets and marches over to grab his sword right away before he finds his way to you on the ground keeping Aerion company.

“How was it?” You pretend to be clueless.

“As you would expect,” Aemond shares and crouches down to give Aerion some attention as the boy spends time on his tummy. “Aegon is fruitless when it comes to war, he’s bloodthirsty, thinking boldness is the better option. He’ll have all our dragons killed if we act out his plans.”

You close the book and tilt your head up to look at him. “Which is why it’s a good thing you sit at his table. How did he take the news?”

Aemond scoffs and a sly smirk plays on his lips. “What do you think?”

You sigh and guess. “Whiny and offended.”

Aemond nods before he snickers. “He tried speaking Valyrian, but he butchered it. He couldn’t even form a sentence.”

You laugh softly, but not as much as you would want knowing the actual context. Then again not like it matters because your amusement is quickly killed because you know you can’t escape the inevitable.

“Will you stay for dinner at least?” You try to make him linger behind.

Aemond lifts his eye off Aerion and catches the gloss in your eye that accompanies your speechless pleas, so he looks back at his son and gives you his answer. “I have indulged in my pleasures today. Rhaenyra might have already heard about our approach and may attack soon, I cannot risk leaving Cole defenseless.”

Your eyes flicker down and you sigh deeply with worry, pulling Aemond to his feet, and attaining his gaze that attracts you to look up and meet his gaze before you listen to your impulse and follow him up.

“I will return,” he reassures the worry creasing a frown on your features. “Sooner than you think.”

You close the empty space left between you and gently place your hands on his chest before you slowly trail them up his shoulders and bring them to a stop on his jaw, noting his armorless body left vulnerable to any deadly attack.

“I wish you would armor,” you express your concern.

Aemond’s gaze hardens and he grabs your elbow to remark. “Do you doubt me? Why is it that you never seem to trust my capabilities? I am met with doubt every time.”

Your eyebrows pinch together and your eyes harden as you’re confused by this outburst, but just as you want to argue, your anger fades when you realize that he doesn’t really understand where your doubt is coming from. So you sigh softly and look at him with a softening gaze that fills with admiration, and brings a teasing smile to your face.

“No matter how many times I tell you, you still don’t understand,” you quip and bring your hand down to smack his shoulder. “You may be smart with war plans, but there is something you do not seem to understand.” You scoff and your smile widens as your eyes perk up with bliss. “I do not doubt your skill Aemond, not on dragonback and not with a sword, I worry. It’s concern that I share because I love you.”

Aemond holds your gaze for a moment before he looks down as he loses that hardened demeanor brought by self-defense, and instead grows flustered.

“I do not wish to have your corpse returned to me,” you continue softly and try to find his eyes. “Vhagar may be the biggest dragon, she may have more battle experience than any other dragon, but she nor you are invincible. It takes one arrow, Aemond, raging fire, or a lucky bite from the other dragon's jaw and I am left a widow. Do you understand that?” You push your love into his heart, making him express nothing but love and awe in return as he finally lets you find his gaze.

“I just would feel more comforted if I knew something protected your face and your body. That’s all.” You say and slide your hand up to cup his cheek.

This time Aemond moves his hand up to meet yours so you can keep it pressed against his cheek and he can take in all the comfort you offer, while also making sure to stroke your knuckles with his thumb.

“I will be careful,” he assures you. “I won’t fall today. Nor tomorrow for that matter.”

You scoff in amusement and pull his face closer to you. “I need you to come back,” you express what torments your heart. “To me. I…can’t do this without you.”

Aemond’s breath catches and after a second he drags his hand up your arm while also raising the other one to grab your face with both and reassure you sweetly. “I will be well protected with Vhagar, I will return. I will be okay and I do not need armor to assure me of that. I will come back.”

Your breath trembles and you nod softly before you lean in and share your love with a deep kiss you linger in to keep him with you a bit longer, while also hoping that a deep kiss will convince him to stay. Yet he begins to part away.

But before your lips can be greeted with a cold abandonment he takes you in for a second kiss that’s shorter, but surpasses the passion that already fueled your first kiss.

Unfortunately, there’s no third indulgence, you do stay close and press your forehead against his to linger in each other's presence for a moment longer. Not letting anything penetrate this moment in time where all that exists is each other, your intertwined hearts, and your interconnected souls.

“I love you,” you break the silence after a while and caress his cheeks.

Aemond presses a kiss on the heel of your hand and whispers back. “I love you too. Come see me off?”

You scoff at the ridiculousness of his question. “Of course.”

After getting the last things he needs, and after bidding goodbye to Aerion, you walk with him all the way to the last gate, but no further because he doesn’t want you returning to the Red Keep alone.

“Astraea is allowed to roam the skies as freely as she wants while Vhagar and I are gone,” Aemond lets you know and unknowingly connects the missing link you had to help your mother. “If you mount her, don't approach the blockade or do anything reckless.”

“Reckless?” You feign innocence and touch your chest. “Me? Never.”

His lips tug to a smile before he goes serious and presses that. “I am being serious.”

You offer him an assuring nod and whisper. “I know. I will stay out of trouble.”

He hums and before he can leave, you reach for your neck to take off your necklace that holds the sigil of both of your houses, Velaryon and Targaryen. “I do want this back, it’s my favorite,” you say and grab his hand to give him your pendant. “For luck.”

“Your favor?” He teases with a smug smile.

You hum timidly and watch him snatch your hand before all he has is your haunting touches, and slowly brings it up to his thin pink lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles, causing your heart to skip a beat and a giggle to escape past your lips.

“Everything will be fine,” he adds in his soft voice that works like a trance. It keeps you under its spell now, but you know later it will wear off and your concern will drown you again.

“<Be careful,>” you tell him one more time, but this time you pass him a confident look also oozing with pride.

Aemond steals one more touch from your warm cheeks before leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours to steal one last sweet moment before he steps back and stands tall to show off the intimidating persona he’s built over the years, but never scares you. You see his confidence and his determination, but he does not intimidate you.

“<Goodbye, my love.>” He bids.

You offer him a last smile and whisper back so only he can hear. “Goodbye.”

You wave at him and linger where he left you behind to watch him get further and further away until not even his long shiny silver-white hair is visible. Now when you're sure that he won’t walk back for something he forgot you turn to head back inside, but the moment you do face the Redkeep, you catch Aegon looking out one of the windows of a high tower.

His eyes are unmistakably on you, letting you know he saw your last goodbye with his brother.

Was it with envy? Annoyance? Anger?

You don’t know, you can’t see the expression that paints his features from where you stand. Besides, when your eyes meet he turns away and abandons the window, letting you head inside.

At first, you walk at a normal pace, but when you’re inside you hurry back to your room to write that warning to your mother in High Valyrian so there’s less of a risk of someone unwanted reading your note. Which is unlikely because Astraea will carry your letter, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“<Ser Criston Cole is preparing his attack on Rook’s Rest. Vhagar and Aemond will be there too in hopes of catching one of your dragons by surprise, which means he will be leaving the city defenseless for today and tomorrow. I will write more soon.>

You don’t sign your name, nor do you address it to anyone out of caution. You keep the letter short even if you wish to write more. And before anyone can interrupt you, you rush off using the tunnels so no one can stop you, or see you and report your comings and goings to anyone who shouldn’t know.

Once you make it out to the cove behind the castle, your dragon is already waiting for you.

“<Good girl,>” you praise her and caress her snout. “<Now go to Dragonstone and deliver this message. Be careful.>”

Astraea brings her head down to let you attach the note to one of her long horns.

“<Now go,>”, you tell her and press your forehead against her before you step away and watch her fly off to Dragonstone, wishing that there wasn’t a raging war happening so you could go too without worry or fear.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“The powerful are powerless to someone aren’t they?” Helaena comments and leaves you pondering about the actual significance behind such a simple comment.

“Yes,” you muse and prop your elbows on the stone railing to rest your chin on your hands and admire the crimson blood that stands out like shining rubies on Astraea’s purple feet as her large claws puncture her prey while she drags their lifeless silver body with her.

You like to think that your family got your message, you went to see Astraea a few hours after she returned yesterday and neither the letter nor the ribbon was attached to her horn anymore. Do they have to send anything in return? No, but maybe they could send back a different colored ribbon or something small like a shell in your satchels hanging on her saddle. You looked and looked but it was all empty, so you were left hoping the letter did not fall in the water when she flew there.

You’ll have to let them know to send you some discreet message in return next time to let you know that they got your letter.

“Even the King's answer to someone…” you add to your forming thought. “They may be powerful, but that power can easily be taken by anyone really. They just need the right motivation.”

Helaena hums and her eyes then slide to watch you watching your dragon.

“How are you feeling Helaena?” You ask and turn your attention to her. “I haven’t asked today.”

“About?” She probes.

You push yourself up and carefully bring up what worries you about her. “Your boy. This war. You being Queen.”

Her chest raises high and when it goes back down she looks out at the horizon. “Well…being Queen comes with more attention, I can feel them all looking at me, waiting for me to do something. But I don’t want to. I don’t want them looking at me.”

“Hold your head up high,” you try to advise her sweetly. “Paint on a facade and they won’t really see you. Just worry about caring for your daughter, that’s all that matters.”

Helaena blinks and her eyes fall. You study her face closely to watch for any change in emotions, but she’s harder to read than her brothers, so you wait for her to give you her response.

“Alright.”

You offer her a kind smile and look back at the horizon past the window, coming out surprised when she continues to share what troubles her soul.

“And Jaehaerys,” she pauses and your eyes return to her. “My sadness isn’t as grand anymore. I miss him, but he’s not suffering anymore.”

You swallow back and can’t help but frown with pity and sorrow that you don’t hide so she knows it’s okay to be sad, that if she wants you can be sad with her.

Yet she puts on a brave face so all you can offer her is a faint smile.

“Daeron sent me a letter,” she shares with glee. “And he sent me a butterfly with it. It was dead of course, but I added it to my collection because I did not have it yet.”

“That’s nice of him. I would like to see it after we see the maester that is.”

She nods. “Of course.”

Silence follows but she doesn’t let it last. “Are you scared?” She asks back which is a general question, but you answer with what plagues you the most.

“Yes…I have a lot to lose,” you murmur and step back, making her wait for you to start walking forward to be able to follow at your side.

“But I know I must put my trust in them,” you add and fiddle with a starfish that decorates the golden chain around your waist. “They are strong in their way. I just…don’t want to lose anyone anymore. I don’t want to…end up alone.” Your voice breaks without warning.

“But,” Helaena’s parting lips echo down the lonely hall. “You won’t end alone.”

The corner of your lips form a quick smile and you can’t help but show it off to her. “I will have you that’s true—”

“No,” she cuts you off, and her eyebrows furrow as she seems to grow impatient. “But you won’t end up alone.”

Your smile disappears, and your anguish leaves with it, letting conflict push your eyebrows together, and part your lips as a small gasp leaves your mouth.

Helaena watches you and she can’t seem to get a hint of what you’re feeling, but her impatience to be heard gets lost.

“No?” You ask for reassurance even if a part of you warns you not to believe her simply out of self-protection, while the other part of you completely trusts what she just said.

“You,” she pauses and comes to a slow stop, making you stop, and bringing Ser Jason and her guards to a stop behind you. “You believe me?” She asks softly as she doesn’t see that same pitiful smile everyone offers her when she shares something ominous she needs them to understand.

“I believe you,” you throw all your trust in her and offer her a sweet smile.

Helaena’s gaze lingers on you as her thoughts swirl behind her eyes. “Okay,” she breathes out. “Thank you.”

You hum softly and continue down your path back to your chambers. “Why shouldn’t I? We are part of a special family, my favorite ancestor is Daenys the Dreamer, she’s the one who saved our house thanks to what she dreamt. And even still we follow the rule of men when it’s women who have saved us from doom.” You grumble and roll your eyes.

“Well, men—”

“No,” you cut her off and scold her. “Don't well men me. Women are just as capable as men. In ruling and combat if given the chance. And we are not afraid of blood…well some of us at least, because we bleed all the time. Do you see what I’m trying to get at?”

She shrugs lazily. “I suppose.”

You loll your head to the other side and click your tongue in disappointment.

“Anyway,” you drag out and clasp your hands together. “Sunfyre and Astraea were nuzzled against each other yesterday when I went to take her out. Isn’t that so cute?” You change the subject to a more lighthearted matter that doesn’t really catch her attention, but she still shares a comment nonetheless.

“I’m sure Astraea is happy to be out.”

You smile and nod. “Delighted. She has been spoiled beyond belief with her freedom, which makes it hard for both her and me when it comes to putting her in chains here.”

“I’m sure she knows it’s not because of ill intent,” she tries to comfort you.

You huff. “Yes, she knows that. She just…prefers her freedom.”

Before you know it you reach your chambers and Maester Orwyle is already inside preparing what he needs for your examination.

“Your Grace,” he greets Helaena first before he greets you. “Princess.”

You offer him a faint smile and a warm greeting. “Hello Maester, I hope you haven’t been waiting long. We were taking a stroll after breaking fast.”

He shakes his head and responds. “No, I got here a moment ago myself. Now will you tell me what you have been feeling so I can conclude to the right results.”

You sigh and watch Helaena take a seat on one of your couches before you let your eyes wander ahead as you tap into your memories. “Well, it has been a month since I last bled. I…started feeling more exhausted than usual a couple of weeks after the war started. I have been craving foods more than usual, and…well I have had more frequent headaches as well as stomach aches.”

The maester hums and he studies you before his gaze goes to Vanessa. “How has she eaten?”

Oh because he couldn’t ask you?!

“Not well, but it also varies, some days she tends to eat like normal, while on other days she hardly touches her food,” she happily obliges with sharing…well a lot of what you would have not shared.

“Ok, Princess, if I may ask you to change into a lighter gown so I can do your examination.” He orders while you pass Vanessa an annoyed glare she doesn’t fret to brush off as she pushes you behind a divider to help you undress.

“You did not have to share all of it. I eat,” you whisper sharply, and she turns you around harshly to untie the corset, while you pull the halter strap over your head.

“Define what eating is to you,” she rebuttals and you try to sass her.

“Eating is when you—”

“Prince Aemond would have my head if I did not reveal the truth to the maester. He already pressed me to feed you more,” she cuts you off and shares what you didn’t know.

“He shouldn’t have,” you mutter as you purse your lips together.

Vanessa sighs. “He's just worried…in his own way, that's all. And why shouldn’t he be? You haven’t told him.”

A perplexed look flickers on your face before all that paints your face is anguish. “I just…need to be sure first. I mean I need to hear it from a maester.”

“I understand,” her voice eases off the frustration. “Ok, it’s done.”

You let the gown fall to your feet before you step away from it and slip on a lighter gown to rejoin the maester out in your room.

“It does seem that you have lost weight,” The maester points out now that he takes a second look at you in a less busy gown. “But that may be grief as well. I’m certain it has not been easy.”

You scoff and gently shake your head as you make yourself to your bed, and he follows suit with gadgets that he uses inside you…

“Okay just try and hold still. We have done this before so you remember the procedure, right?”

You gulp and offer him a breathless response that gives him the okay to proceed and examine you carefully so as to not miss something, or diagnose you with the opposite of what you may have.

Like he said you have gone through this before, but it still is quite uncomfortable. You get lost on the ceiling above you and wait for him to stop before you move so he can press your belly with his fingers, and also feel your breasts to check if they are tender.

Once his quiet examination is done he steps back from your bed and stands formally before he finally addresses your anticipation. “Congratulations Princess, you are indeed with child.”

It’s meant to be a happy moment, but you’re tormented by anguish as the truth is finally proven and you can no longer hope that it's all some silly mind game played by all your troubled emotions.

Now…the possibility of your passionate night with Cregan resulting in a joyous bundle is more real. Then again you hide behind the hope that one night did not lead to a child. You convince yourself that Aemond is the father because it is true, your fear is just wicked and playing with you.

“Twins?” You ask and he blinks with surprise before he nods hesitantly as if surprised that you know what isn’t meant to be obvious yet.

“Yes…there are two babes. Two different placentas.”

“I told you,” Helaena blurts over the couch before she returns her attention to the books you have spread all over the couches since Aemond has his map on the small table.

“But,” he adds and your heart drops. “I would like to keep a closer eye on you. It seems one babe is smaller than the other.”

You drag yourself to the edge of the bed and press him for more. “Wh-what does that mean? Will they be okay?”

Maester Orwyle lets out a deep breath before he makes your heart hurt with his honesty. “I cannot say for certain, that’s why it’s important for you to eat princess. If you are not healthy and strong the babes will not be. This time you will have to eat for three which will take that much more energy.”

“I understand,” you whisper your comprehension.

“Like I said I will come and check on you more often. I want to make sure that the babes are growing as they should.”

You nod and he bows his head before he offers you one more congratulations and then turns to talk to Vanessa about teas and different foods that you should and shouldn’t eat. And before he left he did not forget to tell you to share your news with Aemond, as if he didn’t already plan to do it himself because apparently you are incapable of controlling your own life.

Regardless, now you know. Now there’s no use hoping you’re simply overthinking and that Helaena’s head is too lost in the clouds, she was right, and you are with child. You are going to have twins with Aemond.

Okay…maybe that prospect does excite you more than you thought. You might have your own Daenys soon, and maybe another girl or more boys!

Whatever they may turn out to be your worry turns to overwhelming bliss you can hardly contain. If only Aemond was here to tell him, but he’s too far and you would be too reckless to fly to him just to share the news.

You have half the mind to go, but that would be oh-so stupid. You’ll have to wait and maybe think of baby names?

Or embroider a nice cover? You are terrible at sewing, but you have the urge to.

Maybe you’ll sing to them and Aerion! You would sing to Aerion when he was in your belly all the time and he would kick like crazy when he got older because of it.

So yes! That’s what you’ll do! They may be too small now to hear, but you need to do something that will release your excitement. Besides you can take advantage and learn more of the songs and ballads that are in the book Aemond gave you.

They’re all so beautiful and full of rich stories. And as sad as some are, knowing that these songs were sung by people in Valyria does delight you as well as make you feel honored that you now get to know them, sing them, and cherish them. It makes it easy to get lost in the songs and have the day pass. Before you know it, noon has already crept in.

The sun is still high so the entire day didn’t pass under you. The only reason you do break your attention from your book is because a persistent knock raps on the door.

Is it Aemond?!

You beam at the possibility.

“Come!” You welcome the visitor as you throw the book on the couch and stand up to spin and face the door.

Nevertheless, who comes in isn’t your tall long-haired husband, it’s his brother, Aegon.

“Your Grace,” you mumble in confusion and look him up and down as you note that he looks smaller than usual in such historic armor that Aegon the Conqueror once wore.

“Niece,” he greets and flashes you a smile before he closes the door behind his guards.

“Aemond is not here,” you state the obvious even if the hairs on the back of your neck rise as they warn you that he’s not looking for your husband.

His heavy footsteps thud as he begins to make his way toward you with a mischievous glint in his eyes that deepens that smirk on his face.

“Yes, I know of my brother's comings and goings.” He says, causing fear to strike your heart. “But I am not here for him.”

You glance at his Kingsguard for help, but you should have known better, they look away, and at that very moment they let you know that you’re alone and defenseless against whatever antics creep into Aegon’s mind.

“Then why are you here? In armor.”

He shrugs. “I am going to battle. Obviously,” he chuckles and his smirk turns to a grin.

You see that he’s past the couches so you continue to back away until you’re behind a couch. “That seems rather reckless. You are King—”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he spats and his grin falls back to a smirk that keeps that mischievous outward.

“Why are you here Aegon?” You ask again and he keeps making his way toward you, not caring that you’re obviously trying to keep your distance.

He huffs. “I’m here for your favor,” he finally reveals and you swallow thickly and run into a chair.

“I already gave it to Aemond,” you try to keep Aegon away. “And you have a wife. Ask for her favor.”

He lets out a sigh. “It's not the Queen's favor I desire,” he quickly brushes you off and hops over the living area to hurry over and trap you against the chair so you cannot keep running away.

“It’s yours,” he whispers and leans his face closer to you, letting his strong wine breath whaff all over you which causes you to try and slide away, but he throws his hand out to grab the chair and block your exit.

“Aemond—”

“Is not here,” he cuts you off again and uses his other hand to start reaching out for your arm, but you grab your golden waist belt to avoid his incoming touch.

“Aegon,” you hiss. “Leave.”

“After a kiss goodbye hm?”

You shake your head and rebuttals by throwing his hand around your arm, but he doesn't pull you anywhere, he just grabs your arm and makes you feel utterly powerless. You hold so much battle knowledge, you know how to make someone unhand you, you can sweep someone off their feet, and so much more, but at this very moment with his hand on your arm and his wine breath unfurling over your cheek, you can’t move a muscle.

“Aegon,” you try to call him off you again, but his hold loosens and the tip of his fingers travel to your hips.

“Stop,” you mutter with a quivering lip. “Please,” your voice trembles.

He spares you a glance before he tilts his face to the side to force you to kiss his cheek first.

You don’t want to, you want to push him away, to scream, but he won’t move and you can’t find the strength; it hides like a coward under Aegon’s presence. Thus you’re left with no choice, you pucker your lips and lean your face forward to press a light kiss on his cheek so it can make him leave faster, feeling disgust swirling what little you have in your stomach.

When you pull back you expect him to back away and leave you alone, but his hand presses against your hip and you feel the warmth of his hand start to travel up.

“Aegon stop it,” you sneer shakily.

Said man’s hungry eyes start to lower to steal a glance at your chest exposed by the v-neck your bodice was designed with.

“Aegon,” you call out desperately, making him find your gaze and smile.

“Wish me good luck,” he says in return.

You swallow back nervously and part your lips, but before you can utter a word the doors get thrown open, pulling your eyes to the welcoming visitor, and seeing Ser Jason with his sword halfway out of his sheath, and his face hardened.

“Ser,” you call out with relief.

Aegon looks over his shoulder and his smile dies.

“Your Grace,” Ser Jason greets coldly without letting his sword go but making Aegon’s kingsguard grab their own swords to prepare for an attack.

“Just in need of my niece's favor,” Aegon is quick to throw out an excuse. “Ser.”

Aegon proceeds to snap his head back around to steal one more glimpse at you before he slides his hand off your body, letting you finally breathe when he backs away and gives you his back.

Even then, though, as he's leaving he makes sure to take his sweet time more so to taunt you that he has power over you now.

“Ser,” Aegon directs at Ser Jason with a taunting smirk that he makes sure is the last thing you see before he disappears down the corridor, knocking out any sort of confidence you could show off to Ser Jason as he remains there past your doors.

“Th-thank you,” you clear your throat and fight the urge to cry as you’re left defeated and feeling powerless. “Ser. For coming to my aid.”

Ser Jason finally lets his sword fall back in his sheath and his blue eyes soften to pity as he watches you fight back your tears.

He wants to ask if you’re okay, but he also knows that would be a stupid question considering he can see you shaking, and hears you heaving.

“Princess,” he whispers and you pull your eyes up to give him your attention through a teary gaze.

“I’m—I’m okay, Ser” you stammer and nod even if you feel violated.

Ser Jason whispers his comprehension, but rather than walking out and standing guard outside your doors, he steps further inside and comes to a stop shortly after to watch you with a certain conflict battling in his deep blue eyes, a conflict that you pick up on before you turn away and clutch onto the chair to try and calm yourself down after something you feared the most happened.

You tried so hard, but you were utterly useless. You couldn’t move a muscle, or find the right thing to say back. You were nothing at that moment but something else he can now order around.

You feel so stupid, so weak, and—

“Princess,” Ser Jason calls out and now you hear that he’s closer than before.

“Ser,” you breathe out and turn around, seeing at that moment that your eyes fall on him, that his eyes express his pity while also trying to offer you the comfort you need the most.

“You…you are not alone,” he says and you can’t help it, you break down and all you want is your mother or Cregan…

He was always there when you felt the most anguished without a fault.

But he can’t be here, nor can you go to your mother. And even Aemond is gone to feed his hunger for battle, leaving only your sworn protector.

“Okay,” you whisper with relief and he slowly starts moving toward you with his hand slowly rising off his side in an attempt to offer you a comforting touch.

Albeit before he can even get near, your eyes find Lord Larys limping toward your open doors, causing you to drop your head to hide your tears.

Not like it was a fruitful act, the Lord takes note of your anguish.

“Lord Larys,” you address his presence, making Ser Jason almost throw himself back as he backs away from you so the Lord doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“Princess,” the lord greets in return. “Forgive my intrusion. I was coming to pay you a visit and I came across an open door.”

You shake your head to dismiss his apology. “Do not worry about it, Lord. You are welcome.”

You glance up at him and catch an exchange of looks between Lord Larys and Ser Jason before your sworn protector walks out of the room in a hurry, leaving Lord Larys and you alone in the confinements of your chambers.

“Please take a seat,” you point to your table. “I would offer a seat in front of the fire, but I’m ashamed to say Aemond and I have a mess.”

Lord Larys shakes his head. “It’s quite alright,” he reassures you and limps toward the table to take a seat on a wooden chair.

You turn to walk towards the flagon of water and wine so he won’t see the tears that leave your eyes red.

“Water? Wine?” You offer as you wipe your cheeks and draw in a deep breath.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

You nod in comprehension and serve yourself some water before you turn and face the Lord in hopes he will reveal what brought him here.

“I hope you have found yourself well, a gaze stuck between two sides must be heavy on the heart,” he says.

You bring your gaze down to watch the water within the golden goblet. “I find myself quite well,” you lie with a smile you direct at the Lord. “It was difficult at first, but now…my conflict has been resolved, and the only weight I carry is the worry for my husband and son's safety.”

He hums and you notice him dig his hand in his pocket as he interjects. “As you should be, with Prince Daemon on a path of revenge, who knows what else he might do.”

Your gaze narrows to a glare for a brief second before you take a small sip and take a seat across from him.

“I have been meaning to thank you for telling me about Prince Aemond’s whereabouts when I was gone,” you address the matter and set your cup down, but keep your fingers around the neck of the goblet. “Telling the truth really helped us reconcile.”

The Lord brings a fisted hand up to hang over his cane while he offers you a faint smile. “I’m gladdened. It’s important that the realm sees the picture of unity among the royal family. Now more than ever.”

You scoff. “They need food. Not a glimpse at our marriage, they could care less about us whilst they’re starving,” you rebuttal bitterly and take a glance out the balcony.

“That’s easier said than done with the blockade cutting off any transport of food,” he adds, making you return your gaze to him.

“If only there could be something done about it,” you mumble bitterly and leave out the fact that the crown could spare food, or send a dragon to break that blockade.

“Maybe you can,” he suggests, piquing your interest. “You have Prince Aemond’s ear, and he has a seat upon the council. You could ask him to give an idea to the council.”

You tap the neck of the goblet as you think about what he just said. Which is honestly not a bad idea, but would they even agree to offer any help?

Doubtful.

You could bring it up nonetheless. Maybe.

“That is a great idea, I might do exactly that,” you don’t hesitate to give Lord Larys his props.

Lord Larys bows his head to offer you his thanks before he moves his fisted hand and pushes it over the table. “I did come to give you this…back.”

You slowly sit up straighter and press your hands on the table as you watch him put down a small brown wooden box on the table.

“It seems you lost it recently,” he pauses and pushes the box toward you with the tip of his finger, causing curiosity to tug the corner of your lips to a faint smile.

“…in the North.” He finishes and your hand freezes just as you’re reaching for the box.

At first, you were completely in the dark about what he was reeling up to, but now that he pulls the truth out of the murky waters, you start to realize what the box might hold, and the insinuation he might have as bait.

And alas, when you grab the box and bring it toward you to open it, you see exactly what you suspected; the sapphire ring you had lost in Castle Black. The ring Aemond had gifted you when you first returned from the North. The ring you dropped as you were kissing Cregan.

“It was brought to me from Winterfell,” Lord Larys adds with a certain change in his tone of voice. “It seems someone found it in the bed chambers of the Warden of the North.”

So the ring was given back to Cregan. That’s…nice.

“Any idea why the Lord would have such a meaningful ring in his chambers?” Lord Larys presses, and you start to hear it, the insinuation he does not directly say.

“I had lost it,” you try not to express your horror and close the box to hold Lord Larys' gaze without fear. “He obviously found it. Are you suggesting Lord Stark stole from me?”

Lord Larys scoffs in amusement and shakes his head. “No, I could not see Lord Stark doing something so below him. Albeit it seems his honor does dwindle when it comes to a much more valuable Gem of the Sea.”

The nonchalance you wore falls, but you don’t break. You are not stupid either, you know who Lord Larys is referencing when he brings “Gem of the Sea.”, but you do not let him bait you, nor do you find yourself powerless like when Aegon was here moments ago. What is Lord Larys?

He’s no King. No Warden, no knight, he only holds the title of Lord because his family has not tried to fight him for the title and lands, and the other part of his family is dead. He’s not fearsome, he’s a man with a club foot.

You will not cower behind a shadow that cannot even overshadow yours.

“Lord Larys,” you feign a laugh and open the box to pull the ring out. “Answer me this…do you take me for a fool?”

Lord Larys sputters and ends up saying nothing after he did not expect you to rebuttal as fearless as you did.

“I know what you are insinuating,” you continue and slide the sapphire ring back on your ring finger. “And it really is a nasty thing,” you roll out and snap your eyes up to look at the disbelief he’s trying to wipe off.

“But just so we are on the same page, tell me what exactly you are referring to,” you lull out and bat your eyelashes while a large winged shadow suddenly flies past the windows before a chitter breaks in the sky, and a growl soon follows.

He nor you need to look out to know it’s your dragon, it’s why he swallows back nervously and parts his lips, but you interrupt him because you know a bunch of shit was going to come out of his mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” you mutter with your voice losing that sweet honey and growing intimidating. “Did you know that rats are easy to kill here? Be that with traps, poison, or corner them where they nest and burn them.”

A loud roar rattles the room and a smirk begins to grow on your face, making Lord Larys clutch onto his cane and lean back against the chair.

“Come at me with that shit again, or threats and some bait to try and control me,” you spat. “And I will not need someone to get their hands dirty for me, my Lord. I enjoy chasing and catching my own prey.” You giggle. “It’s exhilarating. And I bet seeing how fast you run will be quite amusing.”

You stand up from your chair and point to the door. “There’s the door my Lord. It was,” you pause and drag out a deep breath before you finish. “Refreshing speaking with you. Come again.”

Lord Larys gets up from his chair and bows his head before he mutters his goodbye. “Princess.”

You raise your nose in the air as you watch him leave between your lashes.

“Oh,” you add as he’s making his way out. “And if I hear that wicked rumor spread about, I know who to look for, so don’t worry trying to hide, my Astraea is a great tracker.”

Lord Larys doesn’t add anything in return, he walks out in defeat. It’s only once the doors close behind him, and you’re enveloped in silence that you let out a deep and exhausted breath.

Having Jacaerys and a stranger find out is completely different, your brother wouldn’t out you to anyone, or spread your secret like a plague, but a stranger would so you had to show your teeth. You had to be threatening, which is new! It’s such a new feeling, but…it’s such a rush seeing people squirm in fear under you!

You can’t say you dislike having that power or any power at all for that matter. You can’t say you dislike showing it either, you want to relish in it. You want to bear it proudly.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“And…” you trail off and lower the wooden bow your hands embrace to watch the sharp metal arrow puncture the bullseye. “That’s how you do it.”

You spin on your heels and stretch your arms out like a dragon spreads its wings.

“Eagle eye,” Ser Jason mocks, and you chuckle and jump up to go and collect another arrow from your satchel.

“I mean that—” Ser Jason begins to stumble over his words as he realizes he was perhaps too bold, so you cut him off.

“Hush, it’s okay. And! Actually, my friend Lady Arra Norrey, Lord Stark’s wife, used to call me that because well…at first I was not a good shot.” You muse with a growing smile. “Do you mean it mockingly, Ser?” You shoot him a pointed look that makes him squirm and ends up making you grin. “I’m messing with you Ser.”

He scoffs and lets the tension fall from his shoulders.

“Now watch this,” you keep his attention on you as you turn on your heels and position your arrow before you break into a jog and bring your aim up.

Yet just before you can shoot your arrow, in the flash of a second, you swiftly spin on your heels and hastily aim at the third dragon head on an ugly green banner, before you let the arrow fly.

The arrow whizzes through the air rapidly, and the sharp arrowhead rips through the third dragon right in the beady eye.

“Fantastic!” Ser Jason praises you as he claps for your wickedly good shot.

You bow again as you laugh with glee.

“Lucky shot, but my ego will grow nonetheless,” you tease as you walk over to grab another arrow.

Albeit just as you take the arrow and turn to walk to your spot a guard walks over and clears his throat to let you know he means to talk to you. “Princess, Vhagar is approaching the city.”

A smile breaks on your face and you let the arrow and bow go to pick up your skirts and run through barriers of space thinking of no one else but Aemond, the cure to your solitude, and the warmth that left you in the cold.

Ser Jason is quick to follow after you in a hurry to make sure nothing happens to you whilst you run from courtyard to courtyard and swerve busybodies. When you reach the last gate that leads to the city you come to a stop and he doesn’t fail to come to a stop a few paces behind, making sure he never lets you out of his sight as you wait for your husband to appear down the cobble street, and slightly worrying of what he will do if your beloved husband doesn’t return alive.

It’s an outrageous thought, but he plans ahead just in case. Plus he can’t help but plan ahead. It’s how his mind works.

Nevertheless, his relentless planning is for naught because from one moment to another your fidgeting hands relax, the corner of your lips slowly rise, and your searching eyes lock on him, your husband, your Aemond.

From afar he seems unharmed, but that’s something you still need to make sure of before you truly thank the gods for his return.

Yet checking for his well-being is not what pushes you away from your spot, when his eye finds you just outside the gate your breath catches as you’re riddled with relief over the fact that he’s walking to you on his own two feet and not lifeless on a carriage.

All while Aemond himself comes to a stop, not because he’s overcome with relief that you’re alive, he never feared for your death whilst you stayed in the Red Keep. He freezes and is riddled with disbelief because no matter what, he did not expect you to be waiting for him past the gates of the Red Keep. He expected to find you in your chambers even if he knows how much your excitement can drive you.

And he's not thinking that catching you outside the Red Keep gates bothers him, his heart skips a beat as he realizes that you’re not some fever dream, you’re there, beaming at him before you break into a sprint to rip through barriers of space just to join together in a clashing embrace.

“Aemond,” you chuckle and cry with joy.

Said man is still caught by surprise for a second so he remains stiff before he melts in your warmth and returns your embrace with a much tighter hold that assures you that it's really him.

“I was worried,” you share softly against his neck.

Aemond caresses the back of your head and nuzzles his nose against your neck, letting himself display his affection for you around bypassers because he wants people to know that he is loved and that he loves someone dearly.

“I’m alright. I told you, didn't I?” He whispers and you can't help but hold him tighter as his voice travels in your ears.

“I will always worry,” you mumble before you pull back and grab his arms to look him up and down to check for any injuries. When you find nothing but soot and his messy hair your heart jolts nervously, but you also feel relief wash over another part of you as you reassure yourself that he came back to you in one piece.

“Nothing hurts?” You still ask him and slide your hands down to grab ahold of his. “Vhagar?”

His eye falls on the ground and he hides a timid smile. “No, I’m fine. I did not get hurt. And Vhagar is fine too.” He says quietly.

You study him one more time before you raise your hands to grab his face. You don’t say anything, nor does he. Aemond just slowly brings his eye up and looks at you with admiration while you watch him completely enamored. At that moment, without the need of opening your mouths, expressing how much you love each other, and how much this time apart was like a strain on the heart. It ached you both.

You also keep expressing how glad you are that he’s back, but it’s that twinkle that joy brings to your eyes that makes his jaw clench, and a deep breath to furl through his nose as he remembers the news he bears, news that will break your heart.

“Uh, I did not have time to warn you, but you must have seen,” you interject and fall on his side to hook your arm around his and head back to the safety of the Red Keep. “Aegon and Sunfyre went to Rook’s Rest.”

Aemond nods and rolls his eye in annoyance. “Yes, we unfortunately crossed paths.”

Your hand stiffens around his arm as you remember Aegon’s visit before he left. “Where is his Grace?” You mutter.

Aemond answers with silence for a moment before he gives you his response. “Aegon got hurt during battle.”

The corner of your lips threaten to pull into a happy smile, but you manage to feign worry. “What? How?”

Aemond stops and slips his arm away, but makes sure not to let go. He grabs a hold of one hand, while he uses his other hand to grab your shoulder.

“<Aegon,” he says in a High Valyrian accent before he continues in the same language. “Was fighting another dragon.>”

You hold his gaze and try to find his concern or pity, but rather than finding any flicker of worry, you catch a darkness dancing in his blue eye.

“<And the dragon burned him,” Aemond continues to add stiffly. “It was…a foolish act on his part to go to battle and challenge the dragon, but that act was repaid with dragon fire and broken bones.>”

You can’t pretend to be worried, you don’t care if he’s hurt or close to death. If you could you would clap and celebrate, but you hold it all back behind a shocked expression that raises your eyebrows and parts your lips.

“<What…” you hesitate as the other part of you that had begun to worry slowly starts to take over you. “…Dragon was it?>”

Aemond doesn’t answer right away, he keeps holding your gaze, and the corner of his lips twitch up, while that darkness brings a malicious gleam to his eye that you don’t miss.

It’s not difficult to read into these small expressions, for you at least. For anyone else who doesn’t really know Aemond beyond the facade he puts up wouldn’t realize the truth he masks behind that lie, but you do. You see it clear as day. Is it because he let you read him? Or because you know his soul?

Both, but regardless, you know it was no other dragon that brought Aegon down. Not after Aegon humiliated Aemond at that brothel, not after knowing the tension between the brothers, the pranks Aemond never forgave. It was Aemond and Vhagar. You don’t need him to put it in simple words for you to know.

Nor do you care that it was him. You’re actually proud it was him, and he sees that pride, just like he also reads your speechless praise between your lips twitching up and that gleam in your eye.

What a cruel pair you make huh?

“It was Meleys,” Aemond finishes sharing in the common tongue, bringing that relief and that pride to an end as the worry that only captured a part of you now takes over you completely.

“Meleys?” You mumble and clutch onto his hand while your eyelashes bat frantically as you try to find the reason why she would be there. You warned them. You sent it early so they’d know!

“Yes,” Aemond mutters and brings down the hand he had on your shoulder to grab your hand. “Listen to me...”

He says it. He shares the cruel truth and it all comes crashing down.

You don’t want to accept it at first, you can’t accept what came out of him, but he wouldn’t lie about it. What reason was there to lie about your grandmother dying along with her dragon Meleys?

Yet you want it to be a lie. You want it to be a cruel jest.

“Please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Do not lie.”

Aemond doesn’t respond, he swallows back nervously and that only helps to reaffirm the truth; your grandmother Rhaenys is dead. She’s gone and so is Meleys.

Your grandmother…is gone. Someone else is dead, and you don’t need to ask who it was, you see that victory in his eye. It was Aemond again.

But right now that’s not what occupies your mind, right now all you know is grief once again. Agonizing, and heart-tearing grief.

It doesn’t let you breathe, it doesn’t let you think of nothing else but the pain. There’s so much pain.

You can’t breathe, it all weighs down on you. You want to be numb to it to not feel a thing, but you feel it all in all its glory.

“No,” you croak and feel streaks of tears rush down your face. “No,” you cry under your breath. “Please no.”

Aemond tries to pull you into an embrace, but you push yourself away and try to catch your breath, you try to take it all in to try and calm yourself down. However, your blood is rushing in your ears, making everything inside you hectic, making the noises around you louder than they are, and making the world move faster than it is which disorientates you.

You don’t know where you are, that knowledge is lost. All you know is the pain and the deep need to see your grandmother again. You want to see her one more time. You want to hold her longer. You don’t want her to be gone forever.

“Please,” you beg under your breath. “Help me.”

She told you that if you needed help to let her know, to tell her. You’re telling her now, you want her help now. You need it like you need to breathe.

But it won’t come, she won’t come to your aide. She won’t embrace you, or tell you that it will all be fine, she’s gone, and you can’t breathe because of it...

Everything around you begins to spin, and you start to feel lightheaded. You want to keep yourself stable, but you can’t find a wall. You actually stumble and the world that was once spinning around you stops, but only because a darkness begins to consume you.

You try to call for help, but your lips part and nothing comes out. You do however hear another voice, but it doesn’t belong to you, as you get swallowed by the darkness you recognize Ser Jason’s panicked voice. “Princess!”

Yet it’s not him who catches you, you know that much. The last thing you see is clear, it’s Aemond’s worried face above yours...

.

.

.

.

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A/N- You reacting to Aegon is how Daemon thought Rhaenyra would react to Blood and Cheese

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 6) Human!Alastor x Married!Reader

Rated Adult Chapter Trigger Warnings: Alastor is a little shit. Acts of domestic violence

AN: Reminder- Fridays are our new update days. Comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of fics, please consider dropping a love note and let me know if you want on the tag list!

Now with Audio, read by the lovely Nyx of Nyx Productions! Chapter 6: Part 1, Part 2.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“What were you doing with him?” Laurence’s hand wrapped around your upper arm as he crowded your space. His voice came out as a low hiss, promising violence later as his grip became painfully tight. 

“Nothing.” You shrank under his hands. “He said you were drafting the contract. Nothing happened. He just lifted the kettle for me. I swear.” 

“You’re a lucky man, Laurence!” Alastor’s voice carried easily through the house. “Your wife’s cooking smells simply divine. Homemade bread too? I’d be a fat man if I had a wife like her at home to feed me. I can see why your pants are as wide as they are!” 

Laurance’s hands fell from your arms as he turned to face the guest, stepping again into your kitchen like it was his own. Alastor only glanced at the both of you, eyes running over you for longer than you were comfortable, before flicking up to Laurance. 

“She keeps me well fed,” Laurence said tensely, grip on your waist tightening as you tried to smile instead of grimace. 

“I can see that!” Alastor laughed, picking up the plater of roast beef. “I simply couldn’t focus on watching you tippity type on that typewriter with the lovely smell from the kitchen. Your restraint is admirable.”

“It’s really nothing special,” you felt off balance. Far too much of the attention was on you for a business dinner your husband was hosting. It was wrong. 

“Oh, but it is!” Alastor lingered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, pot roast in hand. “If it hadn’t been for the lovely aromas pulling me down to the kitchen, however would you have gotten the kettle off the stove? It didn’t look like anyone else was going to come to your rescue!”

Alastor served the food, making a fuss about how you had done all the hard work of cooking it and the least the men folk could do was dish it up in exchange. You did not know how to deny him as you lingered off to the side, twisting your hands together as you watched. Laurence’s eyes burned into you as Alastor scooped beef and gravy into your dish, continuing to sing your praises as he gave you a healthy serving. 

Your husband was itching to say you didn’t need the hearty helping you were being given. He wanted to protest against the sweet butter Alastor slathered on your bread for you. Laurence wouldn’t be pleased if you put on weight, but there was nothing you or he could say to stop Alastor and you were so hungry. 

Part of you didn’t want to stop him. You focused your attention on pouring wine for the table, trying to ignore the fact that it felt more like you and Alastor had been the hosts of this lovely little dinner party. It was a strange thought, one that had no place in your head. With a shake of your head, you tried to banish the thought as you stood to Laurence’s side, next to the chair he sat in as you poured his wine. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Alastor called from where he served his own food. Laurence’s dish continued to remain empty. 

You startled under the attention, “Just a hair tickling my cheek, I’m afraid. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Off those feet, dear.” Alastor pulled your chair out for you as you motioned to fill Laurence’s still empty dish. 

“But I-”

“Nonsense!” Alastor laughed easily as you timidly sat, head down, while he scooted your chair to the table. You wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole. Whatever was going on, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that you would pay for how this dinner had gone already. 

Alastor took his seat across from you as Laurence served himself for what you thought may have been the first time in his life. He was unskilled, gravy spilling onto the tablecloth and vegetables landing with a plop. 

Cutlery scraped and clanked against dishes as everyone ate in a tense silence. Laurence seethed, wanting Alastor out of the house. He couldn’t force the guest out before the contract was signed and money passed hands. The only person who seemed at ease at the dinner table was Alastor himself. 

Someone needed to say something. 

“Mr. Moreau,” you started only to get cut off by Alastor, reminding you again that it was his given name for you to use and he would take nothing else. You gave in with a soft smile as Laurence’s forced smile twitched. “Alastor then. How do you know Laurence?” 

“Business,” Laurence answered quickly. One tense word was all he gave you. 

“Oh,” the one-word answers every time you tried to open the doors to dinner conversation discouraged you. Laurence was clearly unhappy. Dinner was going poorly, and you were sure somehow it was your fault. 

“Our lines of business rarely cross.” Alastor offered, “I’m simply providing some financial backing for his latest endeavor.” 

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before you thought twice, eager to at least have Alastor talking and hopeful that he would pull your husband into conversation. Then you could fade out and be forgotten about like a good wife. 

Laurence kicked you under the table, making you realize that you and Alastor were having too much of a conversation between yourselves for his liking, though the conversation had only really just begun. 

“I work in radio!” Alastor’s smile grew wide, full of white teeth and pride. “Perhaps you’ve heard my show? We recently shifted time slots since it’s been rather well received and now, dare I say, it’s really taking off.”

“That’s where I know-” 

“We don’t listen to much radio.” Laurence said, cutting you off. “We should get the papers signed. It’s getting late.” He slid the papers and a pen across the table to Alastor, who was making a show of looking at his watch, eyebrow raised at the fairly early hour. 

Alastor’s eyes returned to you, where they lingered as he pulled the papers Laurence slid to him closer. You only felt like you could breathe again when he looked down and signed his name in places as he flipped through and read each page. As he leaned to the side, you glanced at Laurence. 

Your husband had his eyes locked on you as papers shuffled through Alastor’s hands. Laurence only looked from you when Alastor slid half the papers back to him, a small stack of twenty-dollar bills sitting on top signifying a deal closed. 

It was more money than you had ever seen and it passed hands in front of you as if it was nothing. You hadn’t expected the business conducted in your home over dinner to involve such high dollar amounts. 

No wonder Laurence had been so stressed! You were thankful it was done. Perhaps now things would settle down and Laurence would relax, but as you looked between the two men, you doubted it. The tension in the air seemed to only grow. 

At least the deal was done. 

It felt like liquid lead had settled in your stomach as you mechanically lifted Alastor’s coat for him. All dinner, Alastor sent thinly veiled barbs at your husband and paid you far too much attention. Having the paperwork signed did nothing to ease the tension between the two men. If anything, it seemed to only get worse. 

When the topic of the dessert was raised, Laurence was quick to write it off. You had made a pie but Alastor was fed the lie that it had burned. It was black and crispy, not salvageable according to your husband. He had bemoaned how you could cook a good meal but how your baking skills needed refinement. Alastor was really being spared not having to choke it down. 

You knew the words were a lie, every one of them, but that didn’t stop the shame from burning in your throat or the way your eyes stung. There was so very little in life for you to cling to. All you had was the hope of being a good wife and, for his own benefit, your husband tore that image down too. 

Had Alastor noticed the pie sitting atop the breadbox in the kitchen? It wasn’t black or burned. It had come out of the oven looking rather nice, you had thought. 

If he had, he said nothing about it. You thought maybe he remembered seeing it though, with how he offered you a small smile that felt far too pointed and private for the open space of your great room. You hoped he did. 

It was proper that you help the guest into his coat. It was heavy enough that your bad arm sagged, shoulder screaming as you struggled to hold it up and open for him. Alastor made no comment on it as he slipped one arm into the sleeve, taking the weight off the pained shoulder quickly. He reached across his front and helped the other sleeve up his arm.

As soon as he straightened his coat, you stepped back and to your husband’s side. Laurence’s hand settled on your waist, fingers flexing one at a time, again and again against you. Little finger, ring finger, middle finger, index finger. Twitch, twitch, twitch. Again and again the twitches ran up your side. 

“It was a lovely dinner, Mrs. Latimer.” Alastor reached for your hand. 

You pulled away, but you couldn’t go far with Laurence’s arm around you. Alastor was faster anyway, snagging your hand in his. Much as he did when he introduced himself a few hours ago, he bent at the waist as he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. 

Having spent more time with him, having been exposed to his kindness and the rich tones of his voice for more than fleeting moments, this time the action affected you far more than it had the first time. 

Your hand trembled in his as his soft lips lingered on the back of it. Your face felt hot, and you had to remind yourself to breathe as you watched the way his long thick lashes fell against his cheek when his eyes closed. His eyes opened slowly, though his kiss drew on a few heartbeats longer. 

His lips left your skin as his head tilted up, warm brown eyes meeting your eyes. The moment seemed to last forever before he spoke, breath fanning over your hand in a way that felt strangely more intimate than anything you had done with your husband. 

“I thank you for an absolutely lovely dinner, Miss Latimer.” 

You needed to correct him, to remind him that it was Mrs. You were married. You had a husband. You belonged to someone. You couldn’t find the words to do so, couldn’t make your voice work as Laurence’s fingers continued twitching one at a time, up and down your hip.

“Thank you for coming,” Laurence said, his voice tight. Finally Alastor dropped your hand and straightened when Laurence put his hand out to shake. “I hope to continue to do business with you.” 

“Likewise,” the tendons in Alastor’s hand stood out as he squeezed Laurence’s hand in a quick but painful shake. “You have a lovely wife. Do take care to hold on to her.” 

The door clicked shut behind Alastor. The house instantly felt colder, emptier. It was so quiet you could hear the soft click of Alastor’s shoes against the concrete walkway as he made his way off your property. 

You were scared, terrified to breathe as Laurence’s hand fell from your waist. It would start soon, you were sure of it. You didn’t know when, but you knew that tonight wasn’t going to be a good night for you. 

“What the fuck are you standing around for? Go fucking clean up from dinner.” 

“Yes, Laurence,” you flinched away at his booming tone before asking, hopeful to smoothe the night over, “Is there anything I can get you first? A drink?” 

You did not hum while you scrubbed dishes clean. You made as little noise as you could, hoping that maybe he would forget about you while you erased the evidence of the meal from your home. Maybe he would leave you alone. Maybe he would fall asleep. 

He had said his back was paining him as he stomped upstairs. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice you had taken some of his tincture. Sometimes when he took it, he simply went to sleep.

“Did you enjoy having our dinner guest over?” Laurence’s words were slurred as if his tongue was numb and too thick for his mouth. Did he take too much medication or did he have a few drinks? You were not sure and had no desire to get too close to him to find out. 

“He seemed nice enough,” you agreed carefully, setting the last dish on the dying rack before setting to work washing the kettle. 

At some point, Alastor had set it next to the sink for you, making it easy for you to clean up. Alastor had also been the one who gathered the dishes from the table, refusing to allow the woman who did the cooking to pick up after dinner as well. He had said that his mother had raised him too well to allow it. 

It had been a great help, allowing you to do most of the lifting one handed as you cleaned. You couldn’t convince yourself it was a coincidence. He had to have realized how much your shoulder was paining you and done it to help. The idea made your heartbeat a little faster in both fear of what he knew and the rush of being seen. 

“You seemed to like him an awful lot.” Laurence bit out. That was how the night was going. “Are you fucking him?”

“Laurence,” you gasped out his name, outraged as you turned to him. “I don’t even know him. I would never run around on you, anyway. I know better. I am a married woman and even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be proper.” 

“Did you want him to? Fucking bend you over the counter and fuck you like a whore?” Laurence quickly crossed the kitchen, fist tangling in a handful of your hair and shoving your face forward. Your shoulder ached as you braced yourself against the sink with your hands. 

“Please,” you cried out as your forehead struck the faucet. 

“Did you beg him as prettily?” Laurance asked, hand grabbing at your ass. “Or did I come down in time?” 

“I swear,” tears dripped from your eyes into the dishwater, sending little ripples out that bubbles surfed on. It was strange the things your mind focused on in moments like this. The ripples didn’t have a chance to die out before Laurence threw you to the ground, the sound of fabric ripping was loud in your ears. 

Another dress ripped by his hands. Another crash to the floor. More harsh words. Marriage was work, your mother had always told you. Marriage was often painful. 

“Look what you did,” Laurence seethed. “Another fucking tailor bill. Can’t you at least fucking learn to mend clothes if you’re going to insist on making me rip them?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out the words, “I’ll be more careful,” you promised, as if it wasn’t his hands on you that caused the rip. 

Your words did nothing to soothe him. He kicked you harshly, your body curling into the fetal position as pain radiated through you. Groaning, you curled into yourself tighter as you waited to see what would come next, hoping that if you made yourself small enough, he would have mercy on you. 

Tonight, having you on the floor groaning was enough for him. Instead of striking out again with his foot or pulling you from the ground, he simply loomed over you, ranting, screaming, face red. He called you a whore. He made you say you belonged to him. He called you a slut for any man’s attention. 

“Why the fuck would I spend money to power the rest of this damn house for a woman who’s going to fuck some two bit radio man?” Laurence’s poisonous words continued to fall over you. “You can’t even keep your fucking dresses in good condition.” 

You didn’t even know why he was angry about the electricity. You hadn’t asked for it to be finished in months. Instead of questioning it, you whimpered, “Yes, Laurence.” 

You waited, holding your breath, for his next move. Would it be another kick? More words? Would he pull you from the floor and do to you what he accused you of letting Alastor do? 

“Clean this shit up.” 

You laid on the floor, curled into a ball and cried. It had been a while since you cried, or at least it felt like it. You could just have forgotten when you had last cried, too. Time blurred together in a sea of pain. 

What was it like to be married to a man who didn’t hurt you? 

What sort of husband would Alastor be? He talked as if he had no wife at home and surely if he had one, he’d have brought her as was common. Was it by choice or was there something wrong with him? Closing your eyes, you let your mind drift. It was okay to drift for a bit, right?

Brown eyes looked up at you from a veil of thick lashes as your mind floated away.

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[holylulusworld]

BFG (9)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, light smut (unprotected), love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (8)

BFG masterlist

He watched you move on top of him with adoration in his eyes. Reacher carefully held your hips in a soft grip to help you guide your movement.

With your knees spread wide and your hands flat on the mattress, you slowly rocked forward and back while moving your hips down onto him on the downstroke.

“Fuck, peach pie. You look so beautiful on top of me,” he watched you place your hand on his wide chest to peck his lips. “I want you to take what’s yours.”

“You’re already mine,” you kiss him again, “aren’t you? You came back to me.” You whined feelings his cock twitch inside of you. “I want you to come inside of me, my big friendly giant.” You purred against his lips. “Please, baby.”

You already came twice and wanted nothing more than to feel him fill you up again.

“I could cum only by watching you ride me like the fiery woman you are,” he rumbled close to his release and dropped his hands from your hips to cup your face. “Peach pie, you fuck me so good.” Reacher purred as his warmth filled you.

“Wow,” you stopped moving, and carefully laid down on his chest to catch your breath. “That was…amazing.”

“You are amazing,” he whispered while running his big hand up and down your back. “I can’t believe you took me back after I left.”

“We didn’t part on bad terms, Reacher. I knew about your hobo lifestyle before you left,” you sniffled. “I just missed you so much. It’s crazy that I fell for you so hard in such a short time. You gave me the best thing ever happening in my life.”

“You gave me something I haven’t had in a long time,” his voice shook for a second, and you lifted your head from his chest to look him in the eyes.

“Food and a bed big enough for my giant?” You giggle. “Or mind-blowing sex.”

“A family,” he softly said, “and a place I want to return to. I was a hobo all my life, but now I found home in you, and our baby.”

“Reacher,” you sniffled and struggled to push the tears away. “You…I love you.” Before you could cry and ruin the moment, you hid your face in his neck.

“I love you too, peach pie, and, yes, the bed too,” he chuckles while you shed a few happy tears. “It’s very stable. I think we should test its quality some more in the morning…”

“I see you kept him,” Frances dipped her head to watch Reacher sit on his seat at your diner. He smirked the moment you placed a plate with a slice of peach pie in front of him. “I guess you came back because she feeds you well.”

“You’re still around. Why?” Reacher glanced at Neagley and furrowed his brows. “I thought you said you’d leave town after I arrived.”

“I only made sure that you do not chicken out,” she replied and shrugged. “You know, to find out if I must hunt you down.”

“You stayed to get more cereals out of Y/N,” he smirked at her for a second before turning his attention toward the peach pie. “I came back for my peach pie.” He looked at the pie in front of him. “The pie is only a bonus.”

“Was that a dirty joke from you, Reacher?” She glanced at him, smirking. “Seriously? Major Reacher made a dirty joke.”

“I can be funny,” he grumbled. Reacher didn’t want you to believe that he’s a grump and has no sense of humor. If you believe he’s only good at repairing things and hurting people, you could change your mind and chase him away.

“Uh-huh,” Frances nodded slowly. “Sure, you can be funny, Reacher.”

“So, you two know each other from work. Have you been in contact for the whole time or,” you watched Reacher tense. He didn’t stay in contact with the rest of his former team. The only one he stayed in contact with was Neagley.”

“Reacher is not the kind of guy sending Christmas cards,” Frances hastily explained. “But if you need him, he’s there. You don’t have to explain anything. He jumps into a bus or airplane and comes to your rescue.”

You placed your hand on Reacher’s, giving him a soft smile. He was tense after your question, and you regretted opening your mouth. Sometimes you just can’t stop yourself. “He’s a protector, and I couldn’t be happier having him around.”

Reacher visibly relaxed at your words. He knew by now that you’re not the kind of person who tells lies to make other people more comfortable.

“I love me a man who can eat too,” you gently ran your fingertips over Reacher’s hand while looking him deep in the eyes. “Especially when the person is willing to give something up to make another person happy.”

Neagley nods. She’s happy for Reacher, even if he’s sometimes a big and grumpy Klotz. – Or rather, most of the time. He holds a special place in her heart and knows that somehow, she wormed her way into his heart too.

“You should reconsider your decision,” Frances laughs. “He’ll eat all your food, and did you see his size? You’ll never have enough space in your house again.”

“He can keep me warm in winter too. I like it cozy,” you smiled at him while squeezing his hand. “I think Reacher made my grandmother’s house a home."

Part 10

Tags in reblog.

[lilbardrhi]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 6: Call in the Calvary

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unsual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: If I missed you in the tag list, PLEASE let me know ;-; I think I got everybody but I feel like I'm missing someone... Also, I'm putting together a playlist for this. Is a link to such something that y'all would want access to?

What did they do to her? How long has she been there?

The questions continue to bounce around in Simon's head as he settles into a chair with a view of the hallway where the rest rooms are. There's no chance in hell that he's gonna let her walk out of that door and not have an almost immediate view of him. He wants her to feel safe.

No, it's more than that.

He wants to be safe for her.

The chair across the table from him scraping across the floor forces him from his thoughts. Looking up, he finds 13 slowly lowering herself into the chair. She looks... dazed.

"13," he calls to her. Her head tilts slightly to the side but her eyes are still unfocused and glossy. "13, look at me."

As if on autopilot she looks at him, but she still doesn't look entirely present.

"Talk to me."

Her lips twitch like she wants to speak and her eyes focus a bit more.

"What happened?"

13 blinks slowly at him and shrugs slightly.

Hesitantly, unsure if it'll do any good, Simon reaches across the table and rests his hand over hers.

"What were you going to say earlier? You started to say you were pretty sure about something, but stopped yourself," he says, trying to coax something out of her.

"I'm... pretty sure... they were filling the air with... something... while we slept," she mumbles and pushes the words out slowly.

Simon's hand wraps around hers and he takes a deep breath to keep his head. That mandatory therapy is finally coming in handy.

An employee with a kind smile brings out their food, gently sliding the tray on the table.

"Anything else I can get you?"

Simon shakes his head and the employee wanders off. With the distraction gone, he refocuses back on 13. She said she didn't like fish so he got her a chicken nugget meal. The memes Johnny sends all the time make it seem like chicken nuggets could heal the soul, so Simon felt like they may have been a safe option.

"Here," he says softly, holding up a french fry.

Her lips part slightly and he gently tucks the fry between them. She stills for a moment then begins chewing. A bit of relief washes over Simon, but something's still wrong.

Specifically with his omega. They may just be in agreement to help her with this mission to 'out' Salvation, but he's not going to leave her without regular care as well. Especially with a reaction like this to seemingly just ordering food.

As she chews, her eyes become clearer.

"It smelled weird sometimes, on the nights I couldn't sleep," she explains, her voice less robotic and no longer sounding forced. "Like there was something sour lingering in the air. It was always faint, but I could smell it."

Simon holds another french fry up to her lips and her eyes actually focus on it this time. 13 accepts it like she did last time, allowing him to feed her.

"Do you want to keep talking about it or do you need a break?"

Her chewing slows, nearly stopping, as her eyes travel to his face.

"I'll say one more thing then I... think I need a break, yeah."

He nods and waits, picking up another french fry to prepare to give her another.

"I won't say for sure that smell was the reason for my reaction to being here, but I don't think it's the root cause. I've been in Salvation facilities for... a lot of my life now. The root cause could have been... there's plenty of options."

"Can I ask how long?" Simon asks hesitantly as he offers her the next french fry.

"Pretty much as soon as I started smelling like an omega, but not acting like one," she pauses, thinking. "I was about 13 when my father sent me to Salvation."

She's 27, according to her paperwork from Salvation. She's been in their 'care' for fourteen fucking years.

Simon realizes he's going to have to find a therapist for her. He also realizes he's going to have to recruit some specific others for this... situation. He may not have all of the information yet, but he feels he has enough to make this call.

It's time to call in the calvary.

It's time to start involving 141.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

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