#Raven writes Frozen

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

It's actually said that Jack is inspired by the Disney movie White Fang about a wild Wolf who's author is called Jack London. Someone said that his Bday vignette actually gives hint or actual info, i'm not sure -sarah

[Referencing this post!]

... Where does it say that? As far as I’m aware, no such confirmation exists, whether in-game or in additional materials that extend beyond the game.

I believe what happened is that a fan's theory or personal interpretation of Jack's Platinum Jacket vignettes was mistaken as canon. He opens those vignettes by describing various paintings featuring wolves, which are most likely references to Beauty and the Beast and The Jungle Book. This is one interpretation. The painting descriptions could possibly be referring to other scenes in Disney properties featuring wolves (like the ones in Frozen), but there is not enough detail to confirm them as specifically attributed to one or the other. You must likely stumbled across someone who interpreted Jack's painting descriptions as referencing White Fang. While I'm open to fans having different takes on the same material being presented, I will always recommend researching and checking sources for yourself before accepting claims as canon.

Where do I stand on this particular detail? I don't think Jack was inspired by White Fang, at least not in a large part. It just does not make sense when you compare it to the design philosophy of the rest of the main NRC boys. White Fang is an obscure live action movie. Why would TWST want to prominently feature a character from a property that isn't well-known and isn't animation when everyone else (of the students) at NRC is? Not only that, but why is Jack supposedly named after the author of White Fang? Wouldn't it make more sense to name Jack after the actual wolf in the movie? And if this was the case to begin with, how come Jack is the only student at NRC named after someone irl??? That makes no sense to me. I think the more likely explanation is that "Jack" is just a common enough name that "Jack London" was misattributed as being the source of Jack Howl's name.

As I’ve expressed before, I think of Jack as an ambiguous amalgamation of various Disney wolves. I really don’t see the point in labelling characters as being twisted or inspired by one particular Disney counterpart; having a concrete answer might satisfy the itch in our brains, but it feels sort of limiting to me.

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own / DISCORD SERVER

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat. 

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other. 

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you. 

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story. 

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

[xoxo-surfergirl]

dawn of winter

aemond targaryen x fem!stark!reader

abstract: just moons ago, the realm was at peace and you were stealing kisses with aemond in the red keep. now, the dance of the dragons has begun, aemond has arrived at winterfell knowing your brother would bend to rhaenyra, and nothing feels certain. themes: winter vibes, lovers to enemies to lovers, light smut, romance, angst (because they enemies!), forbidden romance if you squint, hand stuff, you are lady stark, aemond goes for what he wants, the northman not being happy abt it

lucy's notes: ao3 link. just a little something for the new year :) the north is cold and that is my holiday connection 😤 (that's what i'm telling myself because I really wanted to write SOMETHING for this time of year but didn't fully know what). jacaerys did not leave for his mission quick enough and aemond beat him to winterfell 🫢 cregan still hates him tho. and since aemond didn't go to the stormlands lucerys lives too. this will probably be a one shot, though I started a short epilogue which might be posted. it's just an excuse for romance and vibes. i hope you enjoy this story! any interaction is deeply appreciated <3

word count: 7.2k

What little sun there was fettered a white glow in the ever-churning snowfall. The winds of winter had begun their journey south from beyond the wall just a few moons ago, but their strength had built furiously since then. The treetops hadn’t seen a pale morning’s dawn in over three moons, and the wolf’s choir had grown in numbers near Moat Cailin. The elders of Wintertown had spoken of a harsh winter then, noting the heavy fog in late summer, thicker tails on the burrow rats, and tougher skins on the onions. 

It had certainly come. The storm that had hung low over Winterfell, carrying all the way from Castle Cerwyn to Deepwood Motte, had settled thick winds and heavy snows on every stone, tree, and fort. And to mark the special occasion, the Great Hall of the castle would be set alight for winterfest. 

All families of bannermen were being called to share in the centuries honored tradition of hosting a great feast and celebration in honor of the coming snows. And, as happenstance may have it, there was urgency to discuss the matter of succession in the south. 

As if the usurpation of your Queen wasn’t enough, unexpected guests had descended upon Winterfell. One of which had bronze wings as wide as a small keep, and another bearing a halo of Targaryen silver hair. 

Upon your return home, you had dreamed of a moment like this: Vhagar bared in the snow, each frozen flake blistering against her scaled skin. A mountain of her own, even the closest ground to her steaming from her eternal heat. 

But things were not as they were those moons ago, hands and touch lingering under the beat of the southern sun. The water there had been warm enough to swim in, ankles brushing against the lapping tongues of the break and toes worming through the sand. There was no snow, and the realm was united. 

The men had armed themselves at the sight of her shadow, hands gripping their weapons tight. Movement in the castle was always a flurry of feet, but now all were either frozen or frenzied at the arrival. All the feelings of summer pooled in your belly, the taint of winter now upon them. Shouts of men filled the battlements, calling for the warden of the north to meet the crown prince of the realm, the unspoken part following in silence: brother to the usurper. Your belly sank, dragging your heart with it. 

Any pleasant thoughts of Aemond’s arrival had long faded the moment a raven had arrived from White Harbor. Things were different now. Vhagar’s proximity to the gates of the castle had to be an intentional act of dominance, her wings spread to their fullest length in a show of size and prowess. The thought certainly soured things more than they already were. 

Men in heavy blue wools and leathers ran past you, gathering at all posts. Servants gathered the young children and corralled them inside. Your feet caught on the ground, unsure whether you should run or join the entourage gathering to meet him. Watching from above, you could see the doormen heeding orders to open the gates to the castle, hesitation in their every crank of the pulley for what awaited them on the other side. As the gate lifted, so did what felt like your last defenses, no matter how meager they felt against a dragon. 

The Umbers and Flints flanked your brother on their exit from the Great Keep, and you knew you must act now. It calmed you to watch them: each northman walked with pride, furs sitting as a second skin against their long dark hair. It was a show of strength you needed, though you were sure you were not alone. 

Your boots clicked in a scurry down the steps of the battlements, pushing hurriedly past any servant or workman that stood in your way. Ultimately, you decided that if Aemond did have any care left for you, your presence might de-escalate any arising tension. By the time you had entered the courtyard, the east gate had opened and Aemond stood as one against many in greeting. 

A black fur sat wide on his shoulders, but the large cloak that fell beneath it hardly concealed the hilt of the swords he carried at each hip. He looked every bit as lethal as his dragon’s head rearing over the gates. Your heart ached against your rational judgement at the sight of him, and you slowed your movements. 

A figure made in the image of Gods, you were sure of it. Imagining his silver hair and sharpness in your mind’s eye did no service to the beacon of beauty he was in the flesh. For a moment, it was summer again, and your stomach bubbled in cheerful anticipation and not caution. 

Tentatively, you emerged from behind your brother’s side, snow crunching lightly beneath your boots. The moment he noticed you, the air turned warmer. 

“My Lady Stark,” he bowed to you, his eye fixed loyally to yours. 

It was beneath him to honor you with a bow. Your belly twinged at the thought of him being so brazen, and the eyes that gazed upon you with a new peculiar interest. 

The formalities felt foreign and out of place, but arising more suspicion with familiarities felt worse. “Prince Aemond, I welcome you to my home.” 

Before another word could be spoken, Cregan placed a firm hand on the back of your shoulder. “The prince is here to talk over some official matters. Come, let us get warm inside.” 

Introductions were passed away from you, Cregan continuing his tight lead on your shoulder. 

Northern furs suit him quite well, you thought.

—

The sun had long descended over the hills, the icy night’s breath beyond the wall welcoming anyone who stepped outside. The Great Hall was adorned in pine wreaths and winter berries, and cedar cones and noble fir dressing for the festivities. Candle holders layered upon another to flay light across the walls, the wax of days upon moons dripping down the sides of the holders like heavy icing on cakes. 

It felt like ages since all of the Stark bannermen had been together, and old friends across families traded stories and card games over spiced ale and honey mead. The raucous had already begun, the succession crisis and Aemond’s presence be damned. 

But you were less immune than the others to southron matters. If it was any other night, you would have abandoned your seat to join the Mormonts the moment dessert had been served. You had hardly flinched from your seat, Aemond sitting on the other side of Cregan. 

It wasn’t just you that struggled to enjoy the festivities. Rickon sat solemnly, and though you couldn’t see her, you could feel Alysanne’s itch from across the table. In your memory, there had not been a sup as tense as the one before you now. Not even during the most raucous moments of Bennard’s regency. 

From what you could see, Aemond sat chin up at your brother’s right hand in the Great Hall, daring to meet the eye of anyone who looked directly at him for too long. 

Did he remember? Joining in the merriment felt far as Aemond’s closeness held your mind and heart in the great bind that you had all fallen into at the defiance of Aegon’s coronation. Between the warmth of your southron days in a peaceful realm and the uncertain tidings of the inevitability of your families splitting across enemy lines, your stomach turned at the matters in Aemond’s head. 

Cregan stood, the jolly room following the attention of their liege loyally. “Prince Aemond Targaryen has graced us with his presence for our winter festivities.” 

“The honor is mine to be in the north at such an important time.” At his own recognition he stood, raising his cup. 

“Hear, hear!” Cregan cheered, the tension in his jaw visible to no one but you. Cups flew in celebration, horns clattering and ale spilling. With a signalling of his hand, the bards began fiddling with strings and bells. 

Dismissing himself from the table in what you knew was an act meant to soothe himself before he swung Ice at the nearest unlucky post, your brother stepped down to greet the Reeds. Mulled wine danced in your cup, the dark purple echoing cinnamon and anise. There was now nothing between you and Aemond besides the empty chair of the head of house Stark. The hearths were lit—the giant towering stone was hardly cold—but there was no stopping the twinge of a shiver. 

So many words had been shared before Aegon had stolen the crown, and you wondered if he remembered all of them. It had been moons since you had seen each other last, and there was no promise of what played in his intentions anymore. 

Your mouth was in front of your head. “These are curious times, but winter comes anyway. The one force we must all bow to.” 

“And you celebrate instead of damning it?” 

You had imagined begging the gods to bring you two together again. But winds can switch within weeks, days even. It was a child’s folly, or a wish upon a monkey’s paw—you couldn’t decide which. 

“Aye, we do. The longer nights, nature calls us to rest and gain our strength,” you paused.  “We could stare at it for the death it brings, but it’s more than that.”  

“Hmm,” his eye washed over the scene below: jubilant dancers shedding their furs, others shoving their faces with cranberry roast goose while the songs bounced in the high halls of the winter kings. There was a carefree nature of your fellow northmen that you had never seen in the south, and you wondered if the warmth built up more layers than it shed. 

“I know you southerners don’t understand our ways. I’m sure this is very new to you.” 

He turned, eye dancing over your face. “I find it interesting.” 

Dragons rarely came north. Aemond stood lone. 

Perhaps it was the merry presence of all those you loved dearly, or the choke of death you could sense from miles away, but the distance between you and Aemond felt treacherous. Or worse, traitorous. 

You met Aemond’s eye. For so long, he had been a figure in your mind, his presence almost a hypothetical. He existed in a warmer land, one where the sun and sea sparkled off of one another and the dirt sprouted grass and red brick rose the heights of the cliffs to the heavens. Crisis in the south were always so far away, great rivers and mountain passes requiring over a moon’s journey lying between. But he was here now: skin flickering in the flames burning not for light but for warmth as well, Targaryen silver hair feathered down his back like the hands of a ghost, scar dividing his face, as beautiful as the day you had first seen him. 

He studied you just the same. Between you, wintry tunes twiddled by the practiced fingers of the musicians sung of the kings of winter, slayers of skinchangers and defenders of what lies beyond the wall, the keepers of knowledge that southerners can not begin to grasp find their home here carried through your blood. 

This was your time to share those stories, celebrate the old kings and the promise of winter’s darkness with the singers and all of those that had gathered here for what is thoroughly a northerner’s celebration. Yet here you were at an invisible crossroads with the prince of the realm who would not stand to be denied in mind or matter. His royal blood continuously pulled at you to attend as if you were still in the Red Keep and not in your very own halls. 

A Targaryen or two had visited Winterfell once, though the last was under much less grievous circumstances. Alysanne’s was the last dragon to brave the frozen lands, her and Jaehaerys on a true diplomatic mission with no threat of doom hanging over their heads. 

You lot were wolves, fur thick and jaws tight, sturdy and hard enough to endure the ice—and yet dragons cowed the winter kings. Aemond’s presence was a cold reminder of that. Dragonfire had never teased Winterfell with ash, but the threat of it lingered now like a stubborn ember in the hearth ready to erupt if a nasty draught came through. 

Cregan settled back to the table, his face stern and carrying judgement. He took his seat between you once more, dissolving your attentions.

“My father swore an oath to Rhaenyra,” he began, unbreaking of his eye contact and at a level only detectable by those sitting closest to him. “A Stark never forgets an oath. I would have assumed our reputation would be well met.” 

“I understand this, Lord Stark.” Aemond began. There was no hesitation spared from the proud dragon prince. “I simply wanted to make our stances official in the name of the crown.” 

Apprehension and distrust hung in the low firelight. The bells beat on behind the attention of the table, singers caroling the haunt of winter between the silence of the prince and the lord. 

“Your dragon may be fierce, my prince, but we will not be intimidated.” At Cregan’s declaration, you could feel the ears of the northmen sitting the closest to your table perk up, straightening their backs and harden their own faces—an assertion of pride and a foregoing of the fear that painstakingly had etched itself in their movements at Vhagar’s every grumble. 

“I do not seek to intimidate you. Only to draw our lines.” Aemond sat back in his chair, eyeing you. 

“Very well then. Our lines are drawn.” Cregan’s brow tensed, and you knew he was biting down hard in restraint. 

The singers sang their songs of winter’s past, and the promise of an eventual spring. 

—

“He wants us to see that fire breathing monster—

“He’s come to sabotage our army, or count our numbers, or—” 

“Aye, I don’t trust him. There’s something not quite right, the Targaryen madness—” 

The hour was late. Spittle had spattered across the table, fists flying, heads nodding, voices climbing higher and higher to be heard. The bards had returned to Wintertown, and all the celebration left with them. The northmen were restless, and understandably so with bellies full of too much ale and a dubious dragon prince lurking in the halls.  All you lot had prayed the days of clandestine meetings were over once Cregan took the seat of Winterfell, but it had been too soon to hope. 

Volleys of theories here or there made their rounds back and forth from all ends of the table. A pack of barking dogs was no better than the fur cloaked rowdy men who were in the heat of spitting at each other now. Cregan’s fist slamming on the wood was enough to draw quiet. “Enough. I demand order to this conversation.” 

The hounds had been admonished, tails sinking between their legs at the scolding of their master. There was a moment of reprieve, where sensibility was able to override unordered chatter. 

Satisfied with the settlement, Cregan nodded. “Aye, let us speak about this reasonably.” 

It was most prudent to speak quietly anyways, considering the halls reeked of dragon. The candle marks were ever shrinking and your energy with it into what had to be the longest night you’d endured in ages. No amount of shouting could awaken you, though you prayed a reigned conversation would allow you to slip into your chambers faster. 

Until the words spilled from Wylis Manderly’s mouth and promptly stole not only any draft of sleep in your body, but the breath in your chest as well. 

“I know why he’s here,” Manderly started. “Her.” 

It wasn’t supposed to be an accusation, but it sure did feel like one, the way it made your chest nearly cave and your defenses rise. The finger he pointed at your forehead felt like an arrow finding its target: lethal and sure of itself. The rest of the eyes at the table followed suit, curious. 

“He’s here for her.” Manderly repeated, as if his pointing wasn’t enough. 

There were very few times that you had been the subject of a council meeting, and you preferred it that way. It was no fun to have yourself torn apart and examined, no matter the purpose. Your eyes found those of your brother’s reflexively, breath catching in your throat in disbelief. 

He returned it carefully. “Explain, Wylis.” 

“His eye finds ‘ers. I know the look. He fancies her.” Manderly cocked his head. “She spent more than a few sun’s turns in the South. ‘Twas not more than about seven moons do I remember you comin’ home. Enough time to court our fine lady of the north, don’t ya think?” 

The Lord of White Harbor might as well have stripped you bare, prying each layer of your dress with his claw-like hands to leave you exposed in view of the table. It wouldn’t feel any different.

“Is it true, sister?” 

Fingers danced across your flesh, platinum hair sliding through your fingers. His thick, masculine moan vibrated on your tongue as his hands tested the weight of the flesh of your hips through squeezes and shakes. It wasn’t a sennight before that when your own fingers twirled your bud and you discreetly thought of him, despite everything. 

“Prince Aemond and I were acquainted as friends. Nothing more.” 

There was hesitancy in the way the men looked at you now, men of your own blood and land. A separation only possible between those with a cock and those without: the innate distrust that comes with the potential of reaching across enemy lines for the sake of living in a singer's tale.  If you could sink down between the floorboards, you would have. 

Cregan furrowed his brows, eyes never leaving you. “To you, maybe. The prince may feel differently.” 

A bow of your head was all you knew to do. There was no need to deny anything further and spin a mummer’s tale. Lies never sat well in your stomach, to your brother no less. 

The lords were dismissed per the late hour and the dreadful sense that Manderly was right. The back of your chair scraped along with the others, but your leave was halted. 

“Not you, sister.” 

It felt like being a little girl again, and your shoulders tensed to be scolded. 

Voice small, you obliged. “Yes, brother.”

He walked towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders. Cregan’s grey stormed eyes passed through yours in a knowing, but you dared not say a word. Once the door had shut behind the very last man, he exhaled. 

“He’s a dangerous man.” You could see the other words on his tongue, but you never heard them.

“I know.”

He held you there for a moment, and you wondered if he would tell you what was on his mind, what exactly he believed, and you wondered how you would react if he did. All you needed to spill yourself was one more weak push. One more word and he would know how you knew Aemond cared for you, he had promised several moons ago that he would come see you. 

But he never asked, and the truth stayed buried in your throat. 

—

In the darkest cave of the night, silence was unyielding. Every wolf’s howl was clamped over the mouth by  snow, each sound buried alive in the cold white. It made each scurry of a mouse or crackle of a hearth in the castle stiffeningly louder. 

Including your footsteps, which you were carefully navigating for discretion all the way to Aemond’s chambers. There would be no sleeping without putting your own matters to rest.

Unthinking, you reached for the door handle and rattled against the lock that held it tight. Your urgency felt out of place in the quiet tranquility of the night. His footsteps within were hesitant and slow. When the door opened, Aemond stood dagger pointed. For a moment, you felt what it was like to be on the other end of his blade, neck laid for the slaughter and his own eye hardened at the intruder who dared seek him at this hour. 

At your wide eyes, he softened. 

“Lady Stark.”

You didn’t want to waste any time. “Why are you here?” 

“Hmm. I think you know why I’m here.” Aemond stalked closer. “I told you I’d come, little wolf.” 

“They know.” 

“Do they now?” a faint smirk played on his lips now. He stepped aside to welcome you in. “And what did they say about their fairest maiden and their newfound enemy?” 

You stepped inside, unable to meet him. “I did not tell them.” 

Aemond’s movements stopped. “Why not?” 

For all the time you knew him, Aemond was supposed to be smart. A learned man who you could count on not just for knowledge but strategy and cleverness. His stubbornness to see your reasoning surprised you.

“It’s too dangerous. We’re entering war times.” 

He scoffed. “If Winterfell wasn’t the safest place for you to be, I’d drag you on dragonback to King’s Landing. The second most safe place to be is by my side.” 

“My father swore an oath to Rhaenyra.”

Aemond hardened then, cocking his head. His silhouette reflected that of his warrior nature. 

“Are you sure you Starks are strong in your word?” His glare tore through you and you knew the memory he had held on so tightly to come all this way. So he did remember everything. 

“I never promised my hand.” The moment the words left your lips, you felt their harshness. Guilt crept in, sinking in your heart. 

Aemond exhaled sharply. “Did you have to? Was a pledge of your feelings not enough?” 

“Aemond,” you warned, a careful hush of urgency in your voice, “I can’t.” 

He burned. You could see it plain. “War is coming. You will stay here in Winterfell.” 

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t—he had told you nothing you were not already beholden to. But you saw Cregan and the others, thick in furs and heavy swords strapped to their backs marching south. Every further thought sickened you: dragons overhead, iron-melting flames casting over them. 

There was a promise in his words, unspoken but just as present in the implication of safety. I will not bring war to Winterfell. 

“I don’t want this.” The words slipped mindlessly. It was helpless to speak aloud. Aemond knew it, as did you. 

He stalked towards you, face solemn yet set in the firmness of him. Gently, he took your hand in his, raising it to his lips. “I will come for you when the war is done.” 

“But my brothers—” 

“I don’t give a shit about your brothers.” 

“Aemond,” you scolded. 

“Do you not want this?” Aemond said in both query and anger, as if he could not fathom the idea of not being with him.

In truth, you couldn’t either. Memory melted in the sun, the cold that knocked on the gates of the castle chased away by the bright burn of a summer’s passion. Days watching the sweat on his brow as he swung his sword at Ser Cole, using the trivial training yard victories as reason to celebrate with your hands on his chest and his on your waist. Feasts spent sending cheeky looks to each other in a tease as he sat on the high table with the royal family, until he could come down and join the likes of you.

There was something precious between you, far beyond drunk desire in flesh. It made each kiss you shared all the sweeter. 

You enjoyed it, the way that at first, he pretended like he wasn’t desperate for your affections. It made things fun, because the truth rested in his eye the moment of your first meeting. Over time, the mask melted and the truth was in his words, actions—and nothing he felt for you wasn’t returned. 

At the time, your secret tongues and lips found themselves in the only shadow that you knew existed. but there were many more beyond your knowledge, whispering about what you had believed to be a decided matter of succession. 

Winter had come and things were so, painfully different now. 

“I want this, but I can’t.” Every bit of what you felt was evident in your voice. “How can you not see that?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“We are on opposite sides, Aemond.”  

He shrugged. “You’re a lady. It’s not like you’re going to fight.” 

“My brothers are. My men are. They will be on the battlefield, as will you.” 

He pursed his lips, looking away from you in resignation of the truth. “Let us hope that our paths do not cross.” 

The sink of your stomach was heavy enough that you took small steps backing away. The depths of the winter night whipped at your window. The wind sang a deathly tale, a warning to any who may try to brave it. Or maybe it was for you, the old gods finding a way to tell you that you were damned, as was he, as was whatever it was that lay between you both. Aemond stood, all of the fire in the hearth catching in his long starlight hair, the determination of the warrior he was—and would soon become—deep in his being. 

“Don’t look so afraid of me.” 

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’ll be commanding armies against mine. And you have a dragon.” 

He took careful steps towards you, reaching a tender hand towards your face. “I would never hurt you.” 

Words came to your tongue, but the feeling of his skin on your cheek dissolved any refute. He was even nearer now, the bend in your neck needed to find his eye. Aemond’s other hand found your bare cheek, and you stopped yourself from melting in the comfort of his gentle hold. 

“Let me just be Aemond, not a prince,” his thumb caressed the pillow of your cheek lightly. “Let yourself just be you, not Lady Stark. Just this once.” 

It was a nice thought: an escape from the lurking turmoil of metal on metal, metal on skin. The sword at his hip pressed into the side of your belly, the very thing that by winter’s end will have the blood of hundreds soaked through. Prince Aemond Targaryen, the deliverer of souls to their eternal sleep, whether it be damning them for choosing black or for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dragonflame was like that, wild and uncontrolled.

And you, Lady Stark, sister to the keeper of the north who had chosen black, who must follow in the steps of your kin for the sake of upholding honor. Who will sit in the dead of the north by the weirwood each day and pray to the gods that her brother will return, that her burly friends will join her by the fire once more to shoot the shit, that no one will be so unlucky to be caught beneath the wings of the beast that lay outside the castle walls or under the blade of the man in front of her. 

No, you couldn’t be her. Not right now. Your lips parted in a pitiful protest—the very last you had in you, you knew—but his desperation silenced you. 

“Please,” he nearly panted. His lips came closer, breath hot on your lips. 

Was it honorable to feel the tongue of someone your family had sworn against? No, perhaps not. But—you reminded yourself, in a sorry attempt to make excuses—for now he was just Aemond. 

And ‘just’ Aemond had delightfully silky locks to lightly twist your fingers in as your kiss deepended. 

His doublet was thick and you wondered if he had it made for his visit. His visit to you. Running your hands along the sides of him, you felt the daggers at his hip, subtle but ready. Aemond was already feeling through your own dress, sifting through the layers to get to your skin. Each of you searching for one another’s flesh. 

The heel of your foot lifted out of your slipper with the help of your other toes. Aemond was reaching to unclasp the buckles of his doublet, the both of you doing your own part while keeping your mouths on each other in your climb to get close. 

Of all your frolicking, you had yet to see each other so bare. Your time in the Red Keep hadn’t allowed for many private moments. Kisses were frequently stolen between training sessions and feasts, but the risk of being found in Aemond’s chambers—or him in yours—could be far too incriminating for your reputation. The one or two moments where you did find yourself alone in his chambers solely to see a book or another in his favor, and you were never there over a candle mark. 

Winterfell was different from the Red Keep. There were far fewer vipers and spiders on the hunt. The hour was late, even later than any potential vipers may burden themselves to stay awake for.  If one happened to see you, they served wolves and not dragons anyway. It was freeing to have him like this, a moment you had been long waiting for. 

Aemond’s kiss was a seal of your condemnation, for from the first touch of your tongues those moons ago, you knew that at no point after tasting such a sweet nectar would you not seek it out over and over again. It was just as mind bending as it had been every other time: soft at first and leading into fullness. You had dreamed of his tongue on yours again, down your throat and lips on yours to consume you. He was hungry and you gladly fed the beast within him. The blood beneath his flesh burned hot, and the buds on your chest hardened at the feel of your bareness against his. 

Long platinum locks lightly brushed over your shoulders in a sensual dance. Your hands roamed his body in curiosity and a thirst for closeness. It was hardened and soft all at once, the shape of him only feeding the burn of your desire. 

It was difficult to admit to yourself how much you had needed this, having pushed it down when the sun set day after day and you struggled to remind yourself that Aemond was now a traitor to your queen and therefore your honor. His hands in your hair, feeling the dips and curves of your own body. Now, such things dissolved in the spit that passed from your lips to his, the animal of desire breaking through any code you clung to. 

Holding you by your hips, Aemond backed you against his bed. His hands urged your thighs upward so your back may rest on the bed, as if he was preparing you for himself. You followed his lead dutifully, each graze of his fingers along your bare legs sending your belly alight. 

Aemond leaned above you now, having joined you on the bed. “You’re all mine.” 

“Yours,” you replied, rejoining your fingers to lace in his locks, holding his face as if it were a holy grail.

His fingers trailed lower across your stomach, past the heat between your legs and the dip where your leg met your hip. At their slight movement, you could feel more wetness begin to drip out of you, the teasing motion of his hands feeling so close…yet so far. Wide palms and lithe fingers moved to caress the skin just deeper than the inside of your knee. Featherlight touches on your skin reached outward towards your 

Aemond moved patiently over your wetness with time to spare, despite your squirms and soft moans telling him that you were more than ready to feel the pads of his fingers. Soft kisses lined your cheek before dipping his lips and tongue into your mouth in deep union. His cock, covered by the cotton of his small clothes, sat heated and heavy on your leg. Every feel of him made you want him more. 

Breaking you free from your prison of desire, his fingers finally brushed over your center. They most delicately gathered the nectar at your lips, playing with it against the flower of your entrance. The simple movement, yet another tease of his touch, weakened you into a puddle beneath his hand. His thumb found your clit, beginning slow circles there. 

He was winding you up like a toy, playing you on his hand to make pretty noises. If he had asked you to do anything at that moment, you would have said yes. 

Aemond’s other had reached up to meet your bottom lip, letting the pad of his thumb rest there. With wide eyes you accepted it to sit on your tongue, drawing it softly into your mouth before pulling back once more. 

“That’s it, my little wolf” he said, releasing your lips their fixation.

There was little else you cared for, sitting on your bed in the humble guest chambers, hearth warmed and Aemond’s fingers sinking deep into your core and curling deliciously. 

“Shh. You don’t want your northmen to hear, do you?” He said it, punching his words with another tight movement at the perfect place deep within you in a smug maneuver that he knew would have a moan choking from your throat despite the deep silence that surrounded you. 

He was right, you didn’t, but you hardly cared if it meant his hands continued their sync. Every drop of hesitation and secrecy you had so desired earlier had been drowned out by the tight wanting of your core, wetness slipping down his fingers and coating the very inside of your thighs. 

When your pleasure peaked into ecstasy, your honey soaked walls squeezed and fluttered around him, arms looped and holding him tight to you in breathy moans that were meant for him only. There were truly no boundaries wrapped between you now, even if just for a moment, the long absence of his touch and feel sinking deep into your essence. 

Humming in satisfaction, Aemond slid his forefingers coated in your syrupy sex into his mouth. “I didn’t know the honor of a Stark tasted so delicious”

All the furs that had once sat heavily on the bed had slid off. Flesh against flesh, you were content in your afterglow, pushing away thoughts of tomorrow or the day after. Aemond’s hands were hungry more, his own desire hardly satiated. His cock weighed on your stomach, hips needily pressing into yours. 

“Baby, you’re so soaked. Your body needs me inside you,” Aemond brushed his nose with yours, cock sliding over your pillowy lips. 

He must have been a devil of some kind, the enemy, for trying to convince you that your maidenhead could be sacrificed while he was on a diplomatic mission. 

Sensing your hesitation, he hummed into your mouth, drawing you into another kiss. 

“Who would I be to leave you like this? You need to be fucked.” he purred into your ear, and your own hips flexed in release. 

It was tempting. It was. But your virtue remained imperatively prudent, and no amount of Aemond’s want would change it. “I’m a maiden. You know this.” 

“Does it matter if I want to marry you anyway?” His voice was lust-drunk, buried in your neck and leaving traces of kisses there. 

You giggled, shifting under him. “Yes, Aemond.” 

“Hmm.” He grumbled, lifting himself onto his elbows to look you in the face. “Guess I’ll just have to do it now then.” 

It passed between you then, a faint look of heartbreak at the reality of what such things would mean, or what they would take. The betrayal of your brother, of your fellow bannermen—the question of Aemond’s truest allegiances, marriage or not, always sitting in the back of your mind. Roiling dragonfire and singing blades sliding against another in strain. 

“I don’t care where we stand. You’re mine, Lady Stark. Nothing will ever change that.”  

A kiss was your only reply, caught in the trouble and pleasure of his words, a sentence that fulfilled everything and nothing that you wanted to hear. Desperate and searching it was, searching for an end to the madness you were both inevitably walking towards and away from your unity. 

With your limbs intertwined, heart to heart, each of you felt all of the possible flesh you could. You let yourself close your eyes in his embrace, candles dying in the latest hours of the night. Maybe, you thought, this moment could be eternal if you let it: if you were truly present in his warmth and flesh, it could anchor you both in time, allowing you both to feel and hold each other for centuries. No blood would soak into the dirt nor stain your hands. Never had you clung to an idea of peace so hard. 

In another world, Rhaenyra ascended the throne just as the realm had thought. Your journey south would have been fulfilled just the same. Someone of importance would take note of your affinity for each other, and given that you were not being clearly stowed away for one dragon versus another, a marriage proposal would be signed and sent to your brother north. He would read it and scowl at the thought of his sister being tied to the Targaryen blood almost all Starks were partial to hating, but at the sight of your ease, he would relent. A wedding would be hosted in the Great Sept to please your prince and southron overlords, and another at the heart tree of Winterfell’s godswood. 

You clung to your fantasy in the low hours until your knuckles turned white, Aemond’s soft breathing warming your cheek. But clinging to anything fleeting often meant bloodying your hands or being dragged until you let go. 

Those in the south lived in an endless summer, whether they realized it or not. Many would claim a chill or swear they felt the winds change. Perhaps snow even fell occasionally—but such a faint dusting would cower in the face of the fronts from beyond the wall. Such a front scratched at the window of Aemond’s chamber now. It was a most cruel master to any bare skin unlucky enough to bear it, beating it raw until cracks formed and blood spurred. A similar iciness was threatening to drown you from the inside, only made stronger by the beat of Aemond’s blood in your ears. 

No matter how much you wished it not be true, your honor could not allow you to stay in his arms for another moment. Especially not after you had indulged yourself on his fingers and lips. 

Sloughing off the furs, you crept carefully to the mess of layers of your dress on the floor. It was late—or early, put differently—enough that you could do your best to get away with not wearing your full dress back to your room. As long as your previous state of savagery wasn’t obvious, the essentials would do. 

When your eyes awoke once more in your own bed, it was to the ancient cry of a dragon. Your heavy legs and eyes ran to catch up with what you knew was happening, what you must confirm quickly in a hazy winter’s light. From the window, you could see Vhagar lifted her bronze head into the sky, fire threatening to leave the cavern of her throat. Her solemn grumbling echoed through the valley, swirling with the wind singing through the trees. 

Cradles of snowflakes fell as falling stars, silver embers burning in the early light. It was still night—constellations just barely beginning to fade. Grabbing your furs to quickly wrap around your shoulders, you rushed out of your chambers. The torches in the hallway burned low. It was the last hour before they would be re-lit for another day’s warmth. Flames flickered past you in your hasty steps to the outermost walls of the castle. 

You caught sight of Aemond, stalking into the arms of the frosted northern wild, a sickened determination—or resignation, you didn’t know which—in his steps.  The black of his furs cradled his silver hair, a delicate, feathery mix of dark and light. 

A goodbye wouldn’t have been wise, for you knew if you hadn’t left his chambers you would both wake up and refuse to leave each other’s side—or rather, he’d refuse you to leave his. If he was in front of you, he knew he could convince you of anything. There was too deep of suspicion for the prince to arouse the maiden Lady Stark, and Aemond was a smart man.

Or at least you told yourself so, hoping that he wasn’t bitter like he was in your fears, and that he understood. 

The battlements on which you stood were tall enough to rise over any enemy that Winterfell might face. Thousands of years had seen enemies fall in front of the stone giants that guarded the innermost castle. Enemies of centuries past faltered against all kings of winter, sound in their defenses and strong in their charge. Any enemy but Aemond. 

Heavy wings wafted through the north wind, the shadow of Vhagar draining the moon and snowlight from the sky in the shape of war-torn wings. With a large curl of her body, she turned to the walls on which you stood. Muscled and bronzed, Aemond and his beast came closer. You had never seen a dragon in flight so near to you. Her heavy legs hung in the air, the claws themselves thicker than your largest studs. 

A few men below began howling in fear, but you knew something they did not. Even as she drew nearer and her wings covered Winterfell in shadow and her maw roared close enough you could see her blood soaked teeth and feel her boiling breath in the chapped air. It was warm against your cheek, a balm against the pale morning’s frost, comfort blooming where it touched. Near everything but the foundation of the castle itself shook against the dragon’s cry, mountainous wings curling wind through your hair. 

There was a time when Harren the Black had seen a similar sight: the interchange between day and night, a beast larger than a small keep looming over his home, an impenetrable castle. Fire had burned deep in Balerion’s chest, and his black teeth were the gates of hellfire to all those who rested in Harrenhal. Aemond and Vhagar loomed above Winterfell now in a fierce stand, leaving you and all of your men as nothing but ash in the wind if he so desired. 

You knew he didn’t. 

Vhagar roared again, something painful desperately clawing from her chest, and you could feel the solemn echo of Aemond’s own turmoil. Her wings lifted higher through her cry, large body clawing through the sky until the darkness of her ascended into the heavy snow clouds. 

The next time you saw the prince, the crown of the conqueror sat on his head as if it was made for him, and winter had licked your skin raw. 

[krazyyyyyy]

Forever Longing Solivan Brugmansia /Reader

Synopsis: A small glimpse into Sol's elementary life, where he abruptly meets the single most important person in his life...You

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Words: 2553

Notes: Don't know how many more of these I'll write, but I'm hoping to get around three more done if not a few more.

Hope you enjoy this short story <3

Children’s happy laughter echoed loudly throughout the playground, as they began to spill out of the school building; marking the beginning of their cherished recess time. Kids ran freely playing around with friends, swinging giddily on the swing sets, and continuously going up and down the slide.

Well, all the kids but one…

A young, small, and quiet Solivan stood far away from the other kids, staring at the ground at his feet, avoiding any eye contact with anybody within the area. He knew he didn’t fit in with the others, given his introverted nature, he was considered an outcast amongst his classmates. People tended to overlook him, barely acknowledging his presence even when they were standing right next to him.

He was used to it, though…. He had his drawing supplies and stuffed animals, the only things that really made him feel anything close to happiness. The stuffed animals would never judge him, and, they’d always be around to listen to him when he needed it, an idiosyncratic concept to him growing up in a loveless household.

A soft tap on his shoulder causes him to lift his amber gaze from the ground and into the familiar brown orbs of his teacher, Mrs. Baker. A woman with a skinny frame and curly auburn hair that just slightly exceeded her shoulders. It took everything within him not to scoff at her arrival. She was keen on pushing him towards being more sociable with the other kids, a goal that would always fail in his favor. So why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

 She crouched down to his height and spoke to him in her usual soft and steady voice, “Solivan, Why don’t you play with the others today? It seems they're playing a little game of freeze tag, doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

Solivan spared a short glance toward where the kids were running wildly at each other, while some others stayed frozen in place, showing signs of annoyance at being frozen; he retracted his gaze back to the ground shaking his head, mumbling a small “No”

Mrs. Baker smiled understandingly at the timid young boy before her, “I know it might seem scary, but give it a chance, you might like it more than you think.” She attempted one last time to try to convince the boy to open up, even if it was just a little.

The boy remained silent, having lost interest in the conversation completely and hoping that his teacher would simply give up and leave him alone for the rest of the recess period.

Thankfully, it seemed fate was on his side, as he heard his teacher sigh next to him before standing up and walking away to a different part of the playground to supervise a group of rather exuberant children. Leaving him alone at last.

The little raven-haired boy sat on the ground, back pressed against the steel fence that separated the playground from the busy streets that lay not far behind. Settling down, Sol pulled out a small sketchpad from his back pocket; a notebook that was filled page to page in his numerous doodles, which he usually did during class time to pass the time.

Pulling out a pencil, Sol began to doodle, head buried in the notebook; heavily embarked on the mini sketches that required his utmost attention. After a while, he finally cranes his head back to admire his work; his sketch was that of a small horse with a small sketched figure of him seated cheerfully on its back.

He beamed at the drawing, proud of his work. While marveling at the sketch, the notepad is quickly ripped from his grasp. Startled and confused, Sol snaps his head up to look at the culprits. Standing above him, were three kids, obviously much older than he was, possibly four grades above him.

Sol was quick to spring up to his feet to try to get the notebook back, but to no avail, as the blond boy who held the item towered over him. He held the sketchbook high above his head, so even if the little boy tried to jump for it, it would prove pointless in the end

“Give it back!” Sol shouted at the kids as he continued to try to reach for what he considered to be one of his only sources of comfort. All three of the boys laughed at him, “Aww, is the little weirdo gonna cry.” a boy with red hair teased, pointing at him.

“You drew yourself riding a horse? What are you, some kind of girl?” The blond boy jokingly flipped through the pages of the book, briefly observing its contents.

“Stop it!” When Sol tried to reach for his sketchbook once again, the blond boy laughed, before tossing the book over to another boy; then that boy proceeded to also flip through the book and laugh before also tossing it to the next boy. Sol found himself playing in this miserable game of monkey in the middle; a game where he could only watch as his book flew through the air above him, out of reach, with no hopes of ever reaching it.

Eventually, Sol got the courage to defend himself from these bullies, and with all the strength he could muster with his tiny form, he tried to shove the bully who had the sketchbook in his possession. But, the shove proved unhelpful, as the bully didn’t even move an inch.

Sol could barely catch his breath before he was harshly shoved to the ground. A sharp pain pulsed through his body as his back was met with the hard ground; Sol opened his eyes to notice that his sketchbook had fallen next to his body, the bully had more than likely dropped it in outrage at Sol’s sudden rebuke. Sol swiftly snatched the book off the ground and held it close to his chest, shielding it from the bullies.

Sol lay on the ground in a fetal position, with his back facing his bullies, arms still tightly wrapped around his sketchbook. There was a sudden sharp pain on his side as a bully directed a fierce kick toward the young boy; another boy directed a kick, of similar intensity, toward his other side, leaving the little boy only to whimper in pain.

The group of bullies continued to relentlessly kick the defenseless boy, not showing any hint of mercy toward him. Tears ran down Sol’s cheeks as he could only endure the endless kicks that the bullies threw at him. He closed his eyes and hoped the boys would soon grow bored with this and walk away, or maybe a teacher would notice this assault and interfere.

It felt like an eternity that the kicking would continue, he almost thought it would never end…

Until a loud voice rang out and suddenly the kick stopped.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Sol heard the unknown voice shout at the group of boys. He peeked from his position to glance at where the shouting came from; upon opening his eyes, he was met with his saviors back facing him as they spread their arms out wide to shield him away from the sight of the bullies.

“Get outta the way Pipsqueak! Or you're gonna be next!” He heard one of the bullies shout at the person before him. Sol noticed the stranger's visible shakiness as they stayed rooted in their spot in front of him; they were just as scared of these bullies as he was, yet they still chose to throw themselves in the middle just to protect him. He felt a surge of admiration for the stranger; this had been the first and only time someone stood up for him… his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

“No! I-I won't l-let you!” The stranger's words came out shuddered and breathy as if they were holding back tears. Luckily, their voice had been loud enough to possibly draw the attention of others nearby.

The twisted grins on the bullies' faces faded at the realization, and they looked around the area to see if anyone had caught the drift of what was happening.

“Shit!”  Was the last thing Sol heard from them, followed by the frantic pattering of feet in the grass as the bullies quickly fled the scene. Leaving behind two frightened kids as a result. 

Sol, who was still lying on the ground, breathed heavily, the fear coursing through his veins still running wild. He flinched when a blurry object suddenly came into his vision. As his vision slowly cleared, he noticed that the object was the outstretched hand of his savior; they looked down at him with a concerned expression, tears still lingering in the corner of their eyes.

Hesitantly, Sol took the hand, which helped pull him to his feet. He stumbled a bit but managed to regain his balance with a bit of effort and help from the person next to him.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked him, their voice a bit hoarse from all the yelling yet still holding a subtle gentleness to it. Sol looked at them for a second, before shyly shifting his gaze off somewhere else and slightly nodding his head.

They smiled, their gaze landing on the item that Sol continued to hold tightly to his chest. “What’s that?” They pointed out the sketchbook, which, unknowingly to them, had caused the whole ruckus that just happened moments ago.

“... It’s my sketchbook,” Sol murmured under his breath, keeping his gaze away from the person in front of him. He never did well talking to people, never mind kids his age, this person wouldn’t be any different.

Their eyes lit up as he spoke, “You draw?! I wanna see it! Can I see pretty, please?!”

 Sol was taken aback by their sudden interest in his sketchbook, his eyes were blown wide at them; he had never shown anyone his work before, nor had anyone ever asked to see it… this person was achieving a lot of firsts for him. He supposed he could show them, considering they had just saved him from a harsh beating.

“Umm… Okay.” Sol pulled the sketchbook from where it rested on his chest to hold it out between him and the stranger. He slowly navigated through the pages, properly allowing the person next to him to take in each piece of art. They were a bundle of excitement, commenting excitedly on almost every single little doodle in the book; it brought a small smile to Sol’s face, knowing that someone enjoyed his drawings just as much as he did.

“These are so good! You're so talented! Do you think maybe you can draw me something?” Sol felt his cheeks flush with an odd, unfamiliar warmth. They wanted him to draw something for them. Him? Out of all the people they could have asked? They wanted him to draw for them…

He fidgeted with the pages of the notebook in his hands, keeping his eyes glued to the ground, nervously. “Sure–”

“Wait! Before I forget, my name is Y/N!” They cheerfully cut him off, “What’s yours?” They talked a million words per second, which was a bit overwhelming, but Sol still found himself intrigued by them.

“My name is Solivan…” He spoke quietly, but loud enough for their newfound acquaintance to hear. “Solivan?” They tested his name out, “Well, Solivan from this day forward you are now my friend!” Sol stared at them dumbfounded. He never had a friend before, but didn’t think it would ever be this simple, yet here he was.

He didn’t get a chance to respond to their declaration when they continued to speak, “I’m thinking maybe a butterfly–No wait! A gecko… no…” They continued to list through a variety of animals, as Sol would stand and watch them in awe. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt some sort of connection to his new friend, it wasn’t unwelcome, but it was still strange.

“Oh, I got it! How about a dove? Mom says those are her favorite!” 

Sol raises an eyebrow at them.“Like the bird? Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” They cheer.

Sol only nods his head in response, but a smile remains on his face at their jubilation. He sees the opportunity to speak after your moment of triumph and takes it, “I-um… thank you… for helping me. Not many would’ve done the same.”

They shake their head at him with a smile,“ Don’t mention it. You needed help…so I helped!”, the sincerity in their tone set Sol at ease. He wondered if had truly been missing out. If other kids acted just like Y/N, then maybe talking to others wouldn’t be so bad.

A mature voice suddenly rang out through the playground, catching everyone's attention, “Kids, recess is over! Start lining up with your class!”

“Aww man!” The child next to Sol groans, “Just when we were having fun, too!”. If their definition of fun was getting nearly trampled by a couple of older students, then Sol supposes he had the time of his life… Not really, though, but meeting Y/N was a nice surprise.

Children from all around the playground started to depart, moving to their designated class lines. Y/N started to make their way toward their line before they stopped to turn around to look at Sol one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Solivan! Can’t wait to see the drawing!” And with that, the energetic second-grader gave him one last wave before running over to their class.

Sol gave them a little wave in return, watching as their figure got further and further away. It wasn’t long before he himself started making his way toward his own class, to continue the rest of his day. Of course, his attention wasn’t drawn toward that of his classwork, but rather that of the little dove drawing he spent the rest of the day drawing for that special someone he met.

~

Sol paid no mind as his art teacher rambled on and on about the importance of elements in art; his focus mainly on the small, worn-out sketch pad that lay open on his desk. He lazily drew his fingers along the delicate pencil marks of his old drawing from way back then.

Out of the drawings he had created during his entire childhood, that little dove that he drew for you in the second grade always held a special place in his heart. He remembers how bright your face lit up when he showed it to you the very next day; you insisted that he kept it in his sketchbook, under the circumstance that you get to view it anytime you want–which you would do on the daily.

He shifted his gaze from the paper to where you sat near the front of the classroom, trying your best not to fall asleep during the lecture. His heart ached for you to look at him the way you did when you were kids, now it was like he was a total stranger to you; another student who simply attended the same art class as you.

But with time, you’d eventually grow aware of his existence, you’d have too.

After all, you were his soulmate, just as he was yours.

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Part 5: Homecoming

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay's finally home and she's got some promises to keep tags: somnophilia, oral sex, fingering, biting, strapping, resolved sexual tension rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.5k a/n: so this is the last of my pre-written chapters. i'm putting this series on temporary hiatus, but there is an outline for the second half i just have to actually sit down and finish writing it.

part 4 | series masterlist

The sound of the key in the front door has you tripping in your haste to get off the couch. You come careening around the corner just in time to watch Jay drop her duffle bag on the welcome mat with a thud before you’re on her. She catches you one handed, arm a crushing bar around your lower back. Jay honest to god dips you, spins you around until you’re on your toes and dips you into a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. Her hair is a wild mess where it drapes around your face. Breathless she spins you upright, pulls back and rests her forehead against yours.

“Miss me?” she teases and it’s all you can do not to burst into tears now that she’s finally home. “Hey, hey, none of that now,” she murmurs pulling you close. “Thought my baby girl’d be happy I’m back.”

“I am! I am, just missed you s’all,” you reassure her, hands tangling in the fabric of her t-shirt. Tentatively you rise back up on your tiptoes to kiss her when the most awful growling noise erupts from her tummy. You giggle until your sides hurt, her face going from embarrassed to sheepish in the span of seconds.

“Was in a rush to get home,” she says, colour dusting her cheeks.

“Go shower Miss Saved the World,” you tell her, then press a quick kiss to her lips. “Got some leftover rice from dinner, pretty sure I can whip you up something quick.”

“Sorry,” Jay says, dropping a grateful kiss to your forehead before dragging her bag with her to the washing up area.

It’s easy to simmer the eggs and chicken together, the sounds of the pipes running hot water coming from the bathroom. With a start you realize you’re humming, mirin and soy sauce getting added to the beat of the song. Warmth bubbles up in your throat as you hear the water turn off, the sounds of Jay puttering around finally filling the apartment again. A waft of steam escapes from the bathroom door just as you turn off the heat on your pan. The barstool’s legs scrape the linoleum as it gets pulled back in tandem with you carefully pouring out the mixture on top of the rice. Proud of your efforts, you place the bowl on the counter in front of her with a flourish. She catches your hand and presses a soft kiss to your warm palm, her gaze a mixture of grateful and tender.

“Wait! Wait!” you interrupt her before she can dig in. You turn around and start rooting through the freezer. “Knew I forgot something– aha!” Triumphant you pull out a baggie of frozen chopped green onion and sprinkle it across her bowl. “Okay now you can eat.”

With a fond huff she tucks in, eyes dropping closed at the first bite. A final weight lifts off of your chest as she suddenly goes ravenous, attacking her makeshift dinner with the feral attitude of someone that hasn’t eaten well in a while. Jay lets you hold her hand as she eats, bears your careful inspection of her knuckles with their fading bruises without a word but tightens her hold on your fingers whenever you try to let go. Sighing heavily, she leans back full and sated.

“You treat me too well,” she says, stomach warm and full.

“Nah, just the way you deserve,” you reply honestly. Still keeping hold of her hand, you hug her from behind, burying your face in her damp hair. It didn’t smell right when you stole some of her shampoo while she was gone, something essentially Jay missing from it. It smells like her now and you breath it in.

“Said a lot of things about how I was gonna treat you,” she murmurs, lax in your arms and eyes still closed.

“Later,” you tell her. “Right now you’re more likely to fall asleep face first in my pussy and I don’t need that blow to my ego.” You card your fingers through her hair and feel her shake with laughter.

“Probably,” she admits.

“Go sleep it off and just let me enjoy having you home for a bit. Go!” you urge her and finally she listens. Plants a kiss to your cheek before stumbling off to the darkened bedroom. It doesn’t take long to clean up, mostly putting things to soak in the sink for you to deal with in the morning. By the time you make it to the bedroom, Jay’s already fast asleep. With a smile, your curl up behind, arm looping around her waist to keep her close. You’re not letting her out of your sight anytime soon.

The dream is warm. A kaleidoscope of memory folding together. Jay holding you close, Jay kissing down your chest, Jay looking up at you from between your thighs like some dangerous creature just breaking the surface of the water. She kisses your inner thighs like she did on that rainy day two months ago. Pets and blows on your mound the same way she did last spring. Parts your folds with eager fingers to nibble at your clit like she did right before the first time she fucked you. You breath out a heavy sigh, plaintive as she starts to build up a rhythm. Dreams of Jay are always welcome – frequent now that she’s not here to help you relive those memories – even if you always wake with a cry and the feeling of clenching down around nothing.

This time, the dream feels even more real than usual. You can practically feel the heat of her breath on your cunt, the blunt shape of her nails as the drag along your skin. You grind your hips down, dig your heels into the mattress and toss your head side to side as you chase your pleasure, desperate to come before the dream ends and you’re left with your empty bed.

Something solid prods at your hole and you wake with a gasp, sleepy confusion making you slow and stupid as Jay curls a finger inside of you. She suckles on your clit and your back arches as the sensation lights you up.

“J-jay?” you call out, hands blindly searching for the back of her head between your legs. “You’re really home?” It comes out more vulnerable than you’d expected, voice hitching into a high pitched whine as she curls a second finger into you.

“Never leaving home again if my baby girl can’t tell the difference between me’n a dream,” she growls into your thigh before biting down, teeth sharp as she litters the skin with blooming marks. Thumb steady on your clit she keeps finger fucking you, slick dripping down her wrist. She finds the gummy part of your cunt she’s been hunting for, hooks her fingers in and pulls just as she latches onto your clit again. You come on her face with a squeal, head falling back as the electricity rips through you. She pats your thigh patronizingly.

“There she is, there’s my good girl.” She kisses her way up your trembling body, the burning warmth of her skin telling you she lost her pyjama shirt a long time ago. “Came for me so quickly, your cunt knows exactly who she belongs to, doesn’t she,” she coos at you, a hand reaching out to tweak at your breast. Reflexively your body arches up into her and she grins. “But I made a promise, didn’t I? Said I was gonna make you scream.” Jay rolls her hips against you and you can feel the hard, cool tip of her strap notch at your entrance. “Scream for me, okay baby girl?”

The strap slides home in one long thrust that has your body pulled tight, head dropped back and slack jawed as she pries open your still sensitive cunt. Jay mouths at your throat, sucks a necklace of pretty marks as she slowly draws back and then slams back in. You keen as the textured length of the cock scrapes your insides, fat girth bigger than anything you’d let yourself take in her absence. All the tiredness has drained out of you, replace by something simmering in your blood. You can hear the wet sloppy sounds your cunt makes as she thrusts into you again, her hips hitting yours. She hooks a hand under your knee and readjusts the position of your hips before drilling back down into you.

You gurgle as she hits something you think might be your cervix, deeper than she’s ever been before. She’s carving a place for herself inside of your cunt, walls stretched thin around her. Your whole body jolts up the bed with every thrust and it’s all you can do hang on.

“Jay, Jay need it. Need more, please,” you beg her, her strap fucking you just right.

You claw at her back when her calloused fingers find your clit again, moaning loud and wanton as she picks up the pace. Pleasure bloating in your gut as sparks start to collect under her fingers, your cunt clenching. She leans down to kiss you and you can taste yourself raw on her tongue, still dripping with the leftovers of your first orgasm. Jay pinches your clit and you come with a scream, whole body spasming under her as she fucks you through it. Your vision goes blurry and your thighs twitch around her hips but she keeps going.

“Don’t I always keep my promises?” she purrs, voice thick. “Keep you well fucked in my bed, my sweet girl?” Jay slows the roll of her hips to slow, filthy grinds. Threads both hands through yours and pins you to the bed with her full body, the vulnerability of the position making you gasp high in your throat. Knuzzles into your cheek with the tip of her nose. “Knew you’d wait for me.”

“Didn’t like you gone,” you whimper. “Missed you too much.”

“Missed you too,” she says, rests her forehead against yours. Lingers just out of reach to kiss you, shares your air, your greedy gasps. “Missed my little love.” Finally she givens and kisses you. “Couldn’t sleep without you.” She grinds her strap into you. “Couldn’t think without wonderin’ about you, ‘bout that picture.” Jay kisses the corner of your mouth as you pant at her hips undulating. “Wanted you chatterin’ in my ear ‘stead of the others. Fillin’ up the room with laugher.” You squeeze her hands, her damp hair tickling the sides of your face.

“Don’t leave again,” you beg her.

“Love you too much to let you outta my sight,” she reassures you.

“You– you love me?” you repeat back in wonder, heat rising in your cheeks. She stops moving and you mewl at the loss.

“I– what? I’m literally balls deep in you at 4 in the morning and you want to know if I love you?” She asks. You try to hide your face in the pillows but she won’t have any of it.

“You’ve never said it before,” you tell her shyly.

“Yes, baby girl, I love you. I’ve loved you since the minute I walked into that bar and saw you sittin’ there all doe eyed. Happy?” she says exasperatedly, punctating her last word with a filthy grind that has your clit throbbing. You grin and bury your face in her shoulder. Her words put to rest an annoying little part of your mind that hadn’t been able to put the what if aside since the moment she left.

“Love you Jay,” you mumble into her skin.

“What’s that?” She says, pretending not to hear you. “Gonna need you to speak up a bit.”

“Love you love youloveyouloveyou,” you slur as she fucks you until you’re keening, words warm and true. Her brows scrunch up the way they do when she’s close, mouth dropping open as she works the both of you closer to the edge. Your third orgasm rolls over you, takes you by surprise and washes you clean as you tremble and shake under the weight of Jay’s solid body. She kisses you, soft nips that have you chasing after the comfort of her mouth.

“Such a good girl for me, my little love,” Jay coos into your hair.

The alarm doesn’t wake you up in the morning. It’s the kettle, the one Jay insists makes the best tea because it boils the water right on the stovetop, the one she always forgets is loud enough to reach the bedroom if the door isn’t shut fully, that wakes you with it’s rattling whistle. There’s a book face down on the pillow besides you, the cracked spine softly touched by sunlight. With a sigh you roll back over and close your eyes, still hopeful the last of your tiredness is still enough to pull you back under for a few more minutes before your alarm goes off and you have to drag yourself out of bed and off to work. Wait.

With a shriek you try and rush out of bed, uncoordinated, sore limbs only tangling you up in the blankets and almost causing you to faceplant onto the carpet. Your elbow stings with the slight friction of the rugburn buts its going to be nothing compared to showing up to work 4 hours late if the wall clock is right. Whatever dignified noise you made must have been louder than the teakettle because suddenly Jay��s there to help you up.

“Hey, hey what’s all this then? Miss me that much?” she jokes and you scowl. You can’t afford to get your asshole of a manager any more on your case than he already is.

“I was supposed to be at work 4 hours ago,” you seethe, still not quite angry enough to pull back from her touch after so long. “Did you turn off my alarm?!”

“Yup,” she says unapologetically. Before you can storm off to the bathroom, she wraps you up in her arms even as you hiss and scowl. “Aaaand I also called in and said you were taking the day off because your fiance was back from deployment.”

“I— bu- what?” you sputter. Jay just presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Real piece of work that manager, said if it was for one of our brave boys then you could take tomorrow off too,” she hums.

“You told my dick of a boss with his Top Gun hard on that my fiance – who does not exist – is back from a deployment – that didn’t happen – and he just gave me two days off without any notice,” you spell out slowly, still trying to figure out at what point you had slipped into a different universe.

“Well there might have been a little—” she pitches up into a tearful voice “—we didn’t know if Richard was going to make it, but he’s alive and asking for her.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you tell her, rolling your eyes affectionately at her.

“Yeah, ridiculously in love with you,” she says semi-seriously. She plants a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you tell her and savour the warmth of finally having her home.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Ābrazyrys (Aemond x Reader x Daemon)

Summary: Daemon arrives at Riverrun. Pt 2 to this.

Warnings: Daemon’s usual disdain towards his wives. Smut with dubious consent. Angst. A lot of swords. One missing accent on the title because Tumblr.

A/N: So. I have always wanted to write a threesome, even since Lamb. And however fucked up you think this is about to be, I promise it’s worse.

YOU FEEL LIKE you are suffocating. As you try to sit up and scream, you find out you can’t. Nor can you breathe.

You scream, then. But the sound comes out muffled. What a terrible nightmare, you think, as your lungs burn. I have to wake. This is a dream. I have to wake. And you open your eyes, but instead of the peace and quiet of your bedroom, or even one of the demons that are said to frequent maiden’s dreams, you get something else.

“There you are.” You would recognize that voice anywhere. You think, sullenly, you would have preferred the demon. “I see your cunt missed me.” He gestures with his head to Aemond, sleeping soundly by your side.

You scream loudly, but no sound comes out. Daemon’s hand is clamped tight around your nose and mouth, allowing you to barely breathe. He is kneeling over your body, pinning you down with his weight.

“Shh. Don’t wake the babe, wife.” Daemon laughs, surely thinking himself the pinnacle of wit. You glare. You begin to trash wildly under him, kicking and pounding him with your fists. It’s useless. You may as well be punching stone with your bare fists.

The Seven favor you. One of your kicks lands not on Daemon, but on Aemond. He stirs, confused, and begins to sit up.

“What…?” Hope swells on your chest. Perhaps he can make good on his promise and rid the two of you of your bothersome husband. Aemond can get him off you, and protect you. He is as naked as you are, no weapon near, but there are two of you. You could try to overpower him.

But as always, Daemon kills everything he touches. Even hope. As Aemond’s eye widens, noticing exactly who has you pinned down in the bed, Daemon moves. He rolls the two of you to the side of the bed, and sends you tumbling over.

You grunt in pain, elbow slamming against the stone floor in a most unpleasant manner. Naked as you are, it scraps your back and makes you cry out.

Daemon is ruthless, and fights dirty. You have always known it. It is why it doesn’t surprise you that he grabs you by the hair and pulls you to your knees, cold steel kissing your throat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He says, to Aemond. Your lover is reaching for his sword, not having even bothered to pick up his breeches. Not that it would matter. The two of you had undressed in the stairs, and not even made it to the bed before rutting against each other like animals. Both of you had been ravenous for each other.

The memory makes you smile. If you are about to die, you will do so with a pleasant ache between your thighs.

Aemond freezes at the sight of the dagger against your throat.

“Let her go.” He barks. Daemon laughs.

“Youth these days…” He mocks him, whispering in your ear. “Impudent little brat. You do not give the orders here.”

“Let us all calm down.” You try to speak in your most even tone. It’s difficult to do when you know you are doomed, but you need to give Aemond at least a fighting chance. He is too important to the war effort to die here, naked in your chambers. And perhaps you care a bit too much for him. “We can talk, Daemon. Aemond will leave.”

Daemon laughs again. He sounds hysterical.

“I am curious.” The dagger digs just a tiny bit harder against your throat. Aemond stands there, seemingly frozen, but his eyes are calculating. He is inching closer to his sword. You just need to buy him time. “What did you think would happen? Huh?”

You do not answer. Daemon’s grip on your hair turns a bit more punishing, forcing you to arch your back.

“Did you think I would let you make a fool out of me?” When you do not answer, he presses the dagger against your throat harder still. Blood begins to bubble up to the surface, dripping down your neck. It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, but it does sting. Unwillingly, you let out a cry of pain.

It makes Aemond lose his head.

“Stop that!” He shouts, grabbing his sword in one swift move. His tone turns smug. “The lady is pregnant. My seed has taken when yours never could.”

Of course he taunts Daemon with that. Of course.

The words make you flinch minutely. To any other observer, it would be nothing. A shift on your breathing or a slight tension of your shoulders. But to Daemon? Daemon, who has made torturing you his favorite sport? Daemon, who delights in humiliating you? He knows it right away.

This time, when he cackles, it’s not hysterical but full of joy.

“By the Seven Hells!” You can feel his chest against your back, shaking with genuine amusement. “How naive. You Hightowers barely know where to stick your cocks, and you think you have left her with child.”

You feel an embarrassed heat begin to bloom on your cheeks. You avert your eyes from Aemond.

“No, you see. When you were learning your letters, I was already married to her. She is up to her usual tricks, aren’t you, ābrazȳrys?” And because Daemon is a prick, he gives your hair another tug, forcing your back to bow. It has the unwanted consequences of thrusting your chest and hips out. “Such a pretty picture.”

He lowers the dagger to one of your nipples. It makes you stiffen in his grasp, as he thumbs it idly and presses it to the blade’s edge.

Your breaths become more shallow. Daemon is fucking insane. All Targaryens are. You do not think him above cutting it off.

Aemond should really seize the chance, now that your throat is in no danger of being slit, and lunge at him. You wouldn’t even miss the nipple, truly.

But instead, he flounders around.

“You are not pregnant?” His voice is disappointed. While Aemond had voiced his desire for seeing you with child, you had always thought it was another way to best his uncle, and not out of an actual desire to be a father.

“I have been drinking moontea.” You confess, guiltily.

“And why in the..?” Aemond rubs his face. He looks cross. He looks like he could hit you. Without noticing, you shuffle back against Daemon.

“We are at war!” You plead, trying to talk him down. “I am married! To your uncle!”

“Cold.” Daemon snickers against your hair. His hand wraps around your waist, as if he owns you. Aemond’s face contorts into murderous rage.

You realize this is not a good position to be in. Nothing good can come out of two dragons playing tug of war, not when you are the thing caught in the middle. You will either burst from being stretched taut, or snap in half when one bites too hard.

“What do you want, Daemon? Beyond causing trouble?” You whine, tiredly. Overwhelmed tears are beginning to gather in your eyes. Daemon ruins everything, always. He delights on crushing you under his heel, on making you feel small and hopeless. It’s a talent of his.

“You see, I have been learning a great deal from Dalton Greyjoy.” Daemon’s voice is almost conversational. Were it not for the fact that he is dragging the dagger between your breasts, drawing circles with it above your heart, placing it again at your throat, you might believe him speaking of the weather. “About war prizes.”

“War prizes? You have won nothing.” Aemond scoffs, lowering his sword once more.

“Drop the sword, boy.” Daemon orders. “Or the whore loses a teat.”

Aemond looks at you. His face is conflicted. On one hand, he is furious with you and your lies by omission, but on the other, you have a common enemy. One currently threatening to slit your throat. Again.

You nod at Aemond. He understands without you needing to say a word.

“You are getting reiterative, Daemon.” You feign to yawn. “Uninspired even.”

Daemon grabs your hair.

“You little..!”

But before he finishes, you pinch his inner thigh, hard enough to make him let go of you. You fall to your stomach, crawling out of the way, just when Aemond lunges at him.

Steel meets steel. You curl into a small ball, covering your ears. You wonder where in the Seven Hells your guards are. They were supposed to patrol the outskirts of the castle, but somehow, Daemon slipped their notice.

The more you look, the more horrified you are. Because while Aemond fights with intent to kill, Daemon is simply toying with him. They are not as evenly matched as you had hoped. While they both fight dirty, Daemon’s experience gives him an edge Aemond doesn’t have. He waits for the younger man to tire, before using Dark Sister to disarm him and nearly behead him.

“No!” You shout. Aemond stumbles. Daemon pounces. He grabs him by the hair, and forces him up, the same dagger that he had used on you now at your lover’s throat.

“I see I have been going about things the wrong way.” Daemon smirks at you. “Come here.”

Aemond struggles against him, silver hair disheveled.

“Run! Run!” He orders you. “Get out.”

You do not dare obey him, but you do glance at the door.

“Or do that, and I behead pretty boy here.” Daemon agrees, evenly. “Saves you the moontea, even. Abstinence is the best way to avoid pregnancies, after all.”

You step closer to Daemon.

“Come on, ābrazȳrys. Don’t tell me you are shy. Closer.”

You obey, getting close enough to touch him.

“In my pocket.”

You reach inside his cloak, making a face. Your fingers meet something cold and unyielding. Metal. Circular. Manacles.

“Put them on him.” He orders you, before addressing Aemond, mockingly. “Hands behind your back, sweetling.”

It prompts another round of cursing and struggling from Aemond.

Daemon tuts. He digs Dark Sister in.

Your hands tremble, but you place the manacles on a struggling Aemond. It takes quite a bit of effort.

“I am sorry.” You keep repeating, as you do. “So sorry.”

Daemon smoothes Aemond’s hair down. Annoyed, the younger man jerks his head away.

“Look at you. Pretty as a maiden, were it not for that gnarly scar.” Then, because it’s not enough to make a dig at Aemond, he turns to you. Daemon has a pathological need to hurt you. “Even looks like Rhaenyra in the right light.”

You roll your eyes. Daemon does something and Aemond squeaks like a girl. You cannot see where his hand is, where you stand, but it looks like he spanked his arse.

Unlike Aemond, you are aware your husband uses sex as an intimidation method. The lecherous expression he wears is part of it, probably. Or so you hope. He can’t possibly want his nephew, right? You grimace. You are also aware Daemon beds both men and women when it suits him to do so, and has never been put off by familial ties.

Daemon reaches for your hip. He forces you to twirl, in a motion that would be enchanting were it not for the fact that it comes from him. You jerk back, annoyed.

“Stop that.”

“Why? I am curious.” He pulls you in, hugging you from behind. Aemond stares, sullenly. Daemon ignores him, hips nestled tightly against your rear. He sways you from side to side, soothingly.

You understand now why he is so popular with maidens. Were you a few years younger, and lacked your history with him, you would fall for his tricks too. Give him your maidenhead, and hope he would marry you.

Aemond seems to fear that exact same thing, bound hands tensing behind his back. He refuses to say a word, but you can tell. Aemond is like that. If his leg was trapped into a bear trap, he would rather chew it off himself instead of showing any vulnerability.

You wish you could tell him he has nothing to worry about. You are no maiden, and you know Daemon. Yet, you find yourself too preoccupied to reassure him. Daemon is kissing your naked shoulder, lips leaving a cold path of dread in their wake.

“Why him? Out of all men?” He grasps your chin, and forces your eyes to meet Aemond’s.

Perhaps Daemon thinks he will shame you, forcing you to endure his caresses and stare at the man you said to love but could never own you. Perhaps, he thinks he can break Aemond by showing him that you didn’t only betray him through a lie of omission, but that you will fall into his bed without a second thought.

He is mistaken.

“I don’t know.” You say, straightening up. You look at Aemond. Naked, sapphire eye bared, mouth twisted into a grim line.

You are not much better. All your flaws are exposed too. The man who holds you is your husband, the one that never wanted to share your bed. He forces you to look at your lover, his younger nephew, proof that you are no more than an adulteress.

Daemon licks down your spine. You don’t feel any pleasure, just the usual apprehension for when Daemon is near.

“I just love him.” You say, eyes still fixed on Aemond. You hope he believes you. If Daemon intends to kill you, Aemond needs to hear it one last time.

“Hm.” Aemond averts his eye. You try not to sag in Daemon’s arms. You can feel him smirking against your skin, and it fills you with rage.

“Enough to break your vows? After years of solitude?”

Rage is a curious thing. It should energize you, make you fight hard to defend yourself. Yet, you have been told that it is unladylike to scream, or throw things. You are a woman. You can’t punch those that hurt you. And so, instead of yelling, your eyes just fill with tears.

“I just…”

Your soft voice breaks Aemond. He snaps out of whatever haze he is in, and lunges at Daemon. Unfortunately, it has the consequences of trapping you in the middle. Handcuffed as he is, you need to steady him so the three of you don’t topple over.

“You never fucked her right.” Aemond snarls, over your head. You wince. You know Daemon. This is not going to end well.

Daemon laughs.

“Now, you.” Daemon grabs him by the shoulder, delighted. “You, I can understand. She looks like her, doesn’t she? Put her in a green dress, and then…. Tell me, do you call her Muña too? Beg to nurse from her breasts?”

It is scarily accurate. But then again, when it comes to perversion, Daemon always is.

“Do you need a demonstration, kepa?” Aemond mocks, trying to play off the blush in his cheeks. “Need me to teach you to please your wife, old man?”

Despite the situation you are in, you cannot fight your smile. Nor can Aemond. And if there is anything Daemon despises, it is being made fun of.

“Teach me? You? I was already fucking whores when you were nothing more than an idea on Alicunt’s head.”

Aemond laughs. It’s a cold sound, one that usually indicates he is about to pounce. It’s terrifying, but not to you. To you, it only alights a ferocious hope.

“Whores. Not ladies. I suspect none would admit you into her bed, with your uncouthness.”

Daemon stares at Aemond. His mouth opens and closes, as if he cannot quite believe that Aemond dares speak to him so.

“Uncouth? Me? Women like nothing more than to be taken hard and without mercy. Ravished, really.”

“There is a difference between being ravished and being brutalized.” You mutter, without thinking. “Not that you would know.”

“So that is how the boy does it?” Daemon arches an eyebrow. “He mutters sweet nothings in your ears, tells you how beautiful you look? Bah. Any fool can do that.”

“Why couldn’t you, then?” Aemond taunts. You fight off the embarrassment starting to warm your face and ears. If there is something you would rather not discuss with your lover, it is the lackluster intimacy you had with your husband.

“How confident, Taoba.” An expert on building suspense, Daemon waits before continuing his statement. “Fine, then. Prove it to me and the two of you will be allowed to leave.”

You cringe. Is he suggesting you leave your people behind? That you just abandon Riverrun and run away?

Aemond looks at you. Your lower lip trembles.

“Now?” You squirm. The implication is clear, but you still dare hope you misunderstood.

“Here. Now.” Daemon wears a curious look on his face, assessing both Aemond and you.

You are suddenly aware of your nakedness, the confidence the months with Aemond helped you build gone. Your hands go to cover your breasts. It surprises you that he wants to watch you. He has always been a deviant, but you are still his ugly, unwanted wife.

The thought of doing anything intimate with Daemon in the room makes your skin crawl. You turn to look at Aemond, feeling helpless. It is a good opportunity to buy time, to figure out a plan.

You curse yourself for sending out most of your household to join the Green army. If your guards were not situated on the outside of Riverrun, if you had enough men to station some in your door…

Aemond meets your eyes. Trust me, his face seems to say, I’ll get us out. Even in cuffs, he is formidable. His eye pleads with you, until you are nodding.

Daemon might go back on his word. Or he might not. He has always been a rogue, this husband of yours. But the fact that his beloved Queen grows more unstable by the day hints at the fact that this is a suicide mission. It doesn’t look well for you.

“Alright.” You agree. “Let’s do this.”

Daemon gives you a small shove, towards Aemond.

“Kiss.” He orders.

You are gentle with him. You press a kiss to his cheek, very tenderly.

“He will have to uncuff me.” Aemond whispers to you, making you tense. “At one point he will. And I’ll kill him for daring to look at you again.”

It makes your stomach swoop. But not in fear, or dread, or anything that Daemon provokes. No. In genuine happiness. Butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of happiness. Coming from Aemond, it might as well be a love confession.

You kiss him, passionate and slow. He opens up for you beautifully, but you make a frustrated little noise regardless. You miss his hands on your waist, on your hair. His body pressing against yours, so close you feel every ragged breath he takes.

“Now, lovebirds. Off with the cuffs.” Daemon presses against your back, and reaches forward, to hand Aemond the key to his cuffs. You fight a smile.

Daemon presses the dagger back to your neck, and forces you to walk backwards. Never let it be said that Daemon Targaryen is not a risk-taker. When Aemond has gotten rid of his cuffs, he is already sitting in a chair, with you in his lap, dagger still on the hollow of your neck.

“Māzigon, taoba.”

Aemond does. He kneels between your legs, gently spreading them apart. He kisses from your ankles towards your thighs, but what normally would have you pleased, is doing nothing for you. You are self-conscious of Daemon’s eyes on you, on your soft stomach, on the breasts that now spill over your chest. You are not as pink and white as Valyrians are, and you had never minded, until you had been faced with bedding one.

He looks up. You stare down at him, wide-eyed and fearful. This is the part where he gets angry. Daemon is like that, too. No one wants a lover who spends so much time in her head, that gets distracted and starts thinking of chores during sex.

“Muña.” Aemond says, taking your hands in his. “You are crying.”

You had not even felt the tears welling up in your eyes, There is a hot feeling behind them, a knot in your throat.

“I’m sorry.” You sob.

“I don’t have all night.” Daemon complains.

“I can’t. I am so sorry, Aemond.”

“Shhh.” He says, whispering against your thigh. “I’ll make it work. Just focus on me.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You say, overwhelmed. “Why… I can’t.”

Daemon sighs.

“Fucking hell.”

“Shut up.” Aemond protests, starting to get up.

Daemon’s dagger turns towards him. He moves it down, sharply

“Kneel.”

There is a tenseness to his limbs, a tone to his voice, that speaks of imminent violence. He sounds ready to gut Aemond from navel to nose. You cannot allow it. The idea of him being hurt makes you ill.

“You are making me self-conscious!” You cry, bravely dragging Daemon’s attention from Aemond towards yourself. “I can’t! I am no whore, I don’t perform on command, it doesn’t work like that, and you know it.”

Daemon has the same issues, after all. You wonder if he remembers the times he failed to perform, failed to put his cock inside you and a babe in your belly. You never told Aemond, knowing he would take delight in it. Even after all these years, you have kept Daemon’s secret.

“Me? You are saying that I am the problem?” The dagger turns towards you back again, his gestures wild. You shut your eyes, trying to keep calm and think. “That I what, disgust you so much you…”

“Do you remember what you used to say to me?” Anger turns you bold, turns your quivering form into pure stone. You sit up in his lap, and turn to face Daemon. How dare he victimize himself?

Daemon stares at you, lips set into a thin line. He then tugs the dagger away from you, avoiding spilling your blood. You wonder if that would make him harden more. He seems to be enjoying the power play much more than he ever did bedding you.

Perhaps his precious Rhaenyra cured him.

“You are insane. Stop nagging, and let the boy lick your cunt.” Daemon says, after a while of staring at your defiant expression. He turns you back towards Aemond, roughly.

You look at Aemond. His hands grasp your thighs once more, but he seems unwilling to go back to pleasuring you.

Stubborn as you are, you turn towards Daemon once more. He grabs your jaw, trying to move you to your previous position, but you resist. The ensuing struggle makes him harden even more under you, much to your horror.

“You said I looked like a cow. You called me frigid. You said my teats were sagging, that my cunt probably had teeth, that no man…” You spit at him, scratching his arms, his face, anything you can reach. Something snaps inside you, something that you had kept under and hidden through years of neglect and verbal abuse. “That no man would want me. Not even if I was the cheapest fuck in a brothel.”

Daemon flinches, as if startled. He doesn’t quite know what to do, when the meek little trout in his arms turns into a feral cat. He gets his bearings before Aemond, though, and hugs you to him, trapping your arms against your body.

“You said all that to a Lady? Your lady wife?” Aemond whistles. He rubs your knee, and you give him a sullen look too. He could have used the distraction to free you from Daemon’s presence once for all.

Thoughts of being made a widow disgusted you when you first met Aemond. Now, you might end up killing him yourself.

“Shut up.” Daemon looks at Aemond, eyes unseeing. His mind is elsewhere. “What would you know?” It’s a half-hearted quip, not even truly insulting.

You decide to press to your advantage. Whatever is going through his head, it doesn’t compare to the horrors he has put you through.

“I am not crazy. I remember. Each time I look at myself in a mirror, each time I think of you. I remember. Each time you came to Riverrun I had this feeling like I was going to throw up from panic because I knew you were going to say horrible things to me. ”

You punctuate each word with a harsh jab at his cheats with your finger. Daemon grabs your hand between his, and interlocks your fingers, making a mockery of it.

“You cannot be that sensitive.” Daemon scoffs, but his voice sounds strange. As if he is trying to justify to himself what he has done.

“It stuck. It stuck, and it hurts. I can’t. I keep thinking of you, hearing your voice say cruel things. When I look in the mirror, it is your voice I hear, I see every flaw and imperfection and I can’t stop it. The only times I forgot about them were with Aemond, but even that you wish to taint.” You sneer.

Aemond just watches the two of you, in silent fascination. He doesn’t seem inclined to intervene.

“And I will taint it if I very damn please! I may have been a cunt, but you are still my wife.” Daemon shouts, losing his temper. He grabs you roughly by the shoulder and shakes you as he speaks.

You hate when he gets like this. When he screams and gets in your face, and threatens you bodily. It makes you feel small, cower before him. You hate it.

“You cheated on her with Rhaenyra, and now you say that?” Aemond interrupts, perhaps sensing you need support. His hands on your thighs squeeze a bit. He can sense you are wavering.

The only way to survive dragonfire is to be made of Valyrian Steel. And right now, you cannot even pass for bronze, with how easily you are crumbling.

Daemon shoves you off him, enraged, and grabs Aemond by the hair.

“You love this, don't you? You love feeling that you had the power to take everything from me.” And it’s not about you, really. Or at least not only. This is about Lucerys, and the war, the witch queen of Harrenhal that Aemond killed. He places the dagger against Aemond’s good eye, making you gasp. It sickens you, that out of all things, he would blind him instead of killing him. It’s cruel. “You know nothing. I will rip out your remaining eye in return for this treachery. I let you continue your fun, despite half the realm knowing of your whoring. But I’ll be damned if I let a Hightower filth take my bride from me.”

“Daemon!” You scream, trying to get him off Aemond. His attention goes back to you, but instead of murderous, he looks broken. His shoulders slump, his mouth shifts into a small little pout.

Daemon grabs you by the shoulders, surprisingly tender.

“I fucked up. I know. I know I fucked up, but I don’t know how to make it right. Tell me how to fix it. Please.”

You know what he is doing. His whole life has gone to shit, so Daemon is trying to salvage what he can. The war has been moot, so far. They have only slaughtered each other and are no closer to any victory at all.

Another pair of hands grans your shoulders. Aemond.

“You cannot be thinking of forgiving him.” His grip is rougher than Daemon’s, knuckles white from the force of it. He is holding on too tight. He fears you choosing Daemon over him. “He has been fighting for that whore’s claim. He is infatuated with her. He sired her bastards!”

You remember the times you confessed to Aemond, limbs intertwined in bed, how hard you had tried to make your marriage work. How his eye darkened when you spoke of Daemon.

This should be all you ever wanted and yet, it falls short. You want Aemond, not Daemon, you tell yourself. But the sixteen-year-old married off to broker an alliance still feels elated.

Daemon finally wants you. Your husband finally wants you.

“I did. And I assure you, I loved Rhaenyra when we were both younger. But the war…” His words jerk you out of the haze. Daemon loved Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra, not you. It's heartbreaking as always, but you barely feel it.

“And this has nothing to do with her calling for your head?” You ask, sharply. The rumors say the Queen has gone mad, naming her closest confidants traitors. It is what Daemon deserves. He has never been anything but.

“She is calling for everyone’s heads. If you think you can still love someone who ordered your death…”

“If you think you can love someone who crushed your spirit and killed you in life…” Aemond mocks, letting go of you to pick up his sword. Daemon is too slow to react, and he can only raise his hands in surrender when he is the one being held at sword point.

His eyes, pleading, look for yours. You find yourself unable to look away.

“It’s true. I never appreciated you, and will not claim to love you. But you are my greatest regret. You are a sight for these sore, old eyes. I wish… I wish I had not been such a cunt, and we had built something.” Daemon pleads to you. Aemond scowls at him. “Give you children, raise them here. Settled down. You are not ugly or look like a cow. You are a pretty woman. And even if you weren’t, in a world as ugly and twisted as ours, your heart continues pure and beautiful. I think that a person who is so kind could never be ugly. Not in my eyes.”

The confession makes you sob. You turn away from both of them, grabbing a nightshirt and putting it on. You do not want Aemond to see you cry, less he feels betrayed because you are grieving Daemon and what could have been.

Daemon has always been good at surviving. When he thinks he couldn’t move you, he goes after Aemond instead.

“You have been good to her, nephew. Neither of us are good men, but my wife is a good woman and I suppose….” There is a pause. You can’t see either of their faces. Daemon is probably sneering at him. Aemond hums. “She deserves her treat. If she wants you…”

“How noble of you, stepping out. But don’t bother. I shall remove you myself.” Aemond’s tone is flat. His most dangerous. “Permanently.”

“You forget yourself.” Daemon drops his pretense of civility. His voice raises. “I have the legal claim over her, not you.”

“That is easily fixed.” Aemond laughs. He turns towards you, busy pretending you do not exist. “Wed me. Vhagar, you and me, in the manner my ancestors did.”

Daemon inhales, sharply.

“You dare! You dare, you… Green spawn!”

“Wed me.” Aemond begs. It sounds more like a plea for you not to abandon him. “Wed me.”

“Where in the Seven Hells would you go? You have torched half the Riverlands, they would never accept you wedding their Lady.” Daemon crosses his arms over his chest. He then turns towards you, cocksure as always, and not at all like someone facing imminent death. “Nor will they accept you for long, either.”

He is right. The torching of the Riverlands has happened despite you declaring for the Greens. Mostly thanks to Daemon taking Harrenhal, and enabling the Blackwoods. Mostly, because some of your lords still oppose a woman ruling.

You have brought on destruction to your own people, and you do not know how to face them. Once, you had sworn to protect them from the war, but you failed in a manner so spectacular things have turned into a civil war. There are two Riverlands now. The Blacks and the Greens. And it’s all your fault.

Running might be for the best. You have been an awful ruler. Perhaps, this way, your nephew might get your seat and do better for your tenants.

Shame, once again, burns hotly along your spine. You try not to let it show.

“They will if Aegon backs us.” Aemond sounds unconvinced of his own words. Your smile drops.

“I am sure your brother looks upon you very kindly.” Daemon mocks. “When you decided to play at being a petty King here, and left him and your family in King’s Landing as we torched it all.”

Aemond looks like he is half a second from beheading him. He even swings the sword back, preparing to strike Daemon.

“I will marry you!” You scream, distracting him. “And we shall follow Daemon’s plan.”

Daemon laughs.

“Why do you think I have one?”

“You always have hare brained schemes.” You roll your eyes. “I know you.”

Daemon stares at you. He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“I might have planned to take you to Pentos. I was always loved there.”

“Good. The three of us can go then.” You wrench the sword out of Aemond’s hand, who only stares at you, stunned. Then, you go to do the same to Daemon.

“If we must.” Daemon complains, letting you disarm him.

Aemond stares between the two of you. You stare back, until he is the one lowering his eyes.

“We will go.” He agrees, turning to Daemon. “But only because it will please me to see you grovel as a dog for her forgiveness. You and I have a score to settle.”

“Do not forget yourself, nephew. You are the one who owes me a debt.”

“Then we will settle it there.” Aemond answers, plainly. “I look forward to it.”

Daemon just smiles. A bloodthirsty, deadly smile. You already dread whatever he is thinking of.

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● Carpet munching, graphic language, general smut, FxF, age gap, targcest, dubious consent, drugging?, not proof read

Word count ● 3k+

Author's Note • This was meant to be a one shot. Now it's a two parter. This actually has a plot. I dont write smut without a plot and the x reader is so overdone atm. So ive written up an OC. This part is some serious lesbo action. Happy pride to all my homo milf lovers. This one is for you.

Masterlist

Part I

The halls of Harrenhal were no place for a Targaryen. Somber and damp... shadows cast by no flame engulfed the walls. It was an odd place, a cursed place. 

As the great Targaryen civil war raged on, Prince Aemond Targaryen had seized Harrenhal for himself after his uncle, Daemon Targaryen fled it. There, Prince Aemond enacted his plan of destruction upon the Riverlands. Burning all, innocent or otherwise, loyal or traitorous. Indeed, Prince Aemond did not discriminate for who would meet the fires of Vhagar. 

However, none met his wrath quite like the House Strong. For Aemond slaughtered all Strong Bastards and Strong nobles he might come across. Leading to the House facing extinction. No man, woman or child seemed to escape the Targaryen Prince's wrath... but one... a bastard woman by the name of Alys Rivers. 

A witch, whom he took as his war prize. A bedmate to distract him during the cold and clawing nights in Harrenhal. The Prince swore he heard the screams and cries of those he had slain. Though he dare not admit it, it unnerved him. Alys' talents in apothecary came most useful to him, for she oft brewed him tonics to ease such tension he claimed was from war. 

Though he had found other measures in which to use the woman for, when it came to matters of easing tension. Alys was a woman of many talents indeed.  The Prince could seldom admit to himself the bastard had grown on him, something he kept hidden within his heart.

Just as his younger sister was, tucked away in Harrenhal's stoney depths. The Princess Daera was a delicate thing, much like her sister Helaena; unaware of the evils that dwelled around her. Unaware of the depths of depravity and violence her own brother held buried within him. Or so Aemond thought. 

After Rhaneyra had taken back King's Landing, the Princess Daera had managed to escape her half-sister’s capture. Being aided by a Kingsguard to flee the capital and join her brother Aemond as he campaigned through the Riverlands. 

They had settled in Harrenhal for several weeks now, and Daera had spent most of her time dwelling it's cursed halls. At times sitting in the Godswood with the raven haired bastard Alys Rivers. 

Daera found it strange how the woman had taken to her. Sometimes insisting on helping her bathe and dress. The bastard claimed it was her nature as a wetnurse, and was in servitude to Prince Aemond and the Princess. That it pleased her to tend to Daera. 

Though it was apparent how Alys unnerved Daera at times, finding her staring intently. Her green eyes locked upon the Princess's soft form. 

Similarly to Aemond, Princess Daera oft took the tonics Alys left for her, since her arrival at Harrenhal also came with paralyzing nightmares. Tormenting the princess with strange and devastating visions. Visions of her family's death... of Aemond's death. 

Some of which leaked into her waking moments. Daera had oft found herself coming to Aemond in the dead of night, frozen with terror as she had heard disembodied voices calling for her... yearning for her. 

●

Princess Daera sat in her chamber, it was a far cry from her former one in the Red Keep. The walls stoney, grey and the bedding always cold and lumpy. Only the fire provided the much needed light which seemed to get lost amidst the shadowy landscape of Harrenhal. 

She rose, making her way to her bed. The hour was rather early considering, but there was little else to do once it darkened outside. And it was a great comfort for Daera to hear the bustling of people still awake. Far better that the void of silence the castle was known for. 

The soft howling of the wind echoed through the halls outside, and Daera tried her best to ignore the frightful noise. This place... chilled her bones like no other. 

Daera turned her head, looking out the thin windows etched into the stone. Gazing upon the moonlit landscape of the Riverlands; all burnt to a cinder now. No doubt her brother’s doing. 

As she came to her bed, she sat and saw the tonic Alys had left, neatly placed upon the side table. Daera brought it to her lips, drinking it squarely and she prepared herself for the familiar wince that would follow as the bitter herbs hit her tongue. But it did not come. 

It tasted different... sweet? 

A warmth filled her bones, an ease. Mayhap Alys had found a new recipe, one which was more effective? As the princess laid down, her hair pooled like a river behind her. She shut her eyes, drawing the covers over her frame. The feeling spread from her chest to her toes. Easing her, mellowing her temper. She stretched, indulging in the bliss of it, like a cat in the sun she could feel herself go mindless to its heady comfort. The world around her felt softer, kinder. Even the lumpy bedding. With that, Daera drifted off and the Princess's dreams were as strange as they always were. Though less terrifying admittedly. 

She dreamt of her chambers and its strange silence. Of herself, sleeping. In the dream the Princess opened her eyes, awakening to the dark, stoney chambers. The fire dimmed and the world around her cast in a strange fog. 

Outside, the wind wailed softly and she came to the window, gazing upon the scorched earth lit by the pale light of the moon. It was an odd sight. Such beauty, forever scarred by flame. What irony that the Riverlands were now dry. 

Suddenly, she felt a familiar chill run through her bones. The same chill she oft has in his nightmares. Her eyes widened, and Daera remained still until her attention was drawn by a voice which beckoned from the halls. 

Daera turned, tilting her head as she walked slowly towards the doors. Her pale nightgown and robe trailing. Her heart thumped slowly, though the voices grew, she did not fear them for some reason... 

As her hand came to the cool doorknob, Daera turned them slowly, carefully pulling the heavy wood. What she faced was nil but an empty hall. Shadowy, lit only by the strands of moonlight which casted a fractured glow upon the stone. Daera stood back, a trickle of fear running through her as the halls themselves felt like a looming force not to be disturbed. 

But the voices grew again, beckoning her. The Princess couldn't quite make out what they were saying, some in fact seemed to not be speaking in the common tongue at all. But they were soft, luring. 

Daera followed them, slowly moving through the halls in a daze. Her body coursing now with that familiar warmth from earlier. If she wasn't sure she was already dreaming, she could've sworn she might fall asleep.

She made her way through the dark, half unknowingly. It seemed the world around her melted into the shadows. The only confirmation Daera had she was moving forward were the peaks of light from the thin windows. The dark had engulfed her completely. It seemed the halls were but a maze she had no sense of navigation for, but as she came across two large doors, a strange feeling bloomed within her. That this was where the voices were leading her too. 

Daera opened the door, her eyes heavy as they set upon the familiar sight. Though it was dark, only lit by a few small candles and a dying fire. The chamber was streaked by the moonlight illuminating a sight she had seen many times. Aemond's bed. Somehow, it seemed she ended up in his quarters here in Harrenhal. 

Despite having walked what she thought was the opposed way. 

She entered, closing the door behind her and when she turned again, she was met with pale skin, raven hair splayed out upon Aemond's bed. Alys. 

Daera stopped, her eyes opening as she came to see how the woman lay bare. Her sharp face peering up at the princess, and giving her a warm smile. 

Alys moved, sitting up slowly and Daera turned her head; a coil of embarrassment within her that she would walk in upon Alys in such a state. 

But the bastard only gazed, her green eyes leering over Daera's curves. The two women said nothing, before Daera felt the sudden urge to turn to face Alys. 

At first she wished to cringe, but as her eyes scanned the bare and pale flesh of the woman before her, that warmth grew. 

Daera found herself taking in Alys' breasts, her hips and thighs. The silvery ripples of stretched skin upon her belly, contrasted with her raven hair - thick like a belt of the night sky. 

The Princess moved closer and closer until she stood before the witch. Alys sat neatly upon the edge of the bed gazing upwards. Daera's eyes grew wide, both with desire and shame. 

It was a forbidden temptation to indulge in, an act which would tarnish Daera forever; even if it was just a dream, even if it was the conjurings of her mind... to know such desires lay within her was enough. 

Daera stepped back, uncertain - just as she did the pale and harsh grip of Alys snatched her wrist. The witch tugged her closer until her legs were pinned between the sitting Alys.

"Where are you going... surely you wish to stay." Her voice had curled, a thick sultry husk as she glanced up at the Princess. 

Daera felt herself shake slightly, her mind reeling at the thought of it all. But she nodded, sparking a smile from Alys. 

"Good..." Alys murmured. "Sit yourself here...." She gently patted the edge of the bed, a gesture which seemed less of a request and more a demand.

Daera sat quietly, the warmth spreading through her as she took a peak at the pale and soft bare flesh of Alys beside her. The Princess squeezed her thighs together to stifle whatever feeling dwelled between them. 

The witch snickered, moved closer before she let her hand slide upon Daera's clothed thigh. Alys leaned in, her lips grazing her ear, "I can smell such shame... and such desire..." Her voice but a whisper. 

Daera froze, her eyes watching as Alys hand slid between her clothed thighs. 

"All this cloth you wear, it is such a hindrance. Surely it does no good for you to adorn something so... restrictive." The witch whispered once more, feeling the layers or fabric which hid Daera's skin. 

"Modesty is a virtue for women..." Daera spoke softly, shakily. Though the conviction in her voice weak. 

Alys tutted and scoffed, "Mm... is that what the Dowager Queen taught you? That you are but a vessel to be adorned by the virtues men bestowed upon us? You are a dragon... my girl." The witch let her pale hands come to Daera's robe, peeling it off her. 

Alys discarded the robe to the floor and Daera let her. The Princess caught in a daze of uncertainty and desire. The warmth spread through her core at the mere suggestion of what the bastard woman claimed. 

The princess felt cool lips at her neck, kissing and siphoning at her skin, as hands worked to rid her of her nightgown. Daera let out a shuddered breath. 

"Indeed, I've much to show you Princess. Just as I have the Prince..." Alys spoke lowly, raising her brow as she revealed Daera's form before her. Her small clothes still sitting over her pelvis. 

The princess turned her head, catching the green eyes of Alys. A chill ran down her spine at the mention of her brother. They were in his bed... doing such sinful things. Exactly where the witch had surely gotten her brother to do the same. 

Daera tilted her head, her eyes pleading as Alys had grabbed her chin, pulling it so their faces met. The witch's fingers then grazed over Daera's plush lips as she whispered.

"Such pretty lips... gone unkissed.." Alys inched forward, cupping Daera's jaw. Suddenly their lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Daera found herself slightly shocked by the sensation. It was... wetter than she had expected. 

The princess leaned in, as that warmth spread through her. She kissed Alys back, winning a small moan from the woman. Alys grinned, feeling a sense of victory dawn over her as she reached between the Princess's legs, grazing the warmth of her clothed core. 

Instantly the sensation sent Daera reeling, she found herself turning, kneeling upon the bed as Alys did the same. The Princess let her hands come to Alys' hair, trailing down until she reached the soft peaks of her breasts. 

It was swiftly that Alys' herself moved her lips to Daera's neck, trailing down until she reached the Princess' plush breast. Her lips wrapped around the pink bud which adorned one, sucking softly. 

Daera tilted her head back, her eyes wide and she found her hips moving equally upon Alys' hand as it rubbed against her clothed core. It was so wrong, so utterly unthinkable that she dare let her brother's bedmate touch her. 

Yet Alys muttered against Daera's breast, her hands now finding the band of the small clothes which covered the Princess' core. "Such a desirous girl..." 

Suddenly, Alys forced Daera to lay flat upon the bed. The witch hovered above her, pulling the small clothes from the Princess' form. 

Daera looked upon Alys in a complete daze, the warmth which flooded through her blood had rendered her useless to any protest. And she watched as Alys slid down, pulling Daera forward until her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. 

The bastard pulled herself to kneel directly in front of Daera. Her head was now level with the princess' thighs, and as she looked up at her knowingly, a maligned smirk played on her face. As the small clothes fell to the floor Alys' hands began to crawl up the princess' thighs, trailing upwards, like spiders upon white silk. 

The witch sat up, her own thighs pressing into the bedding as she gazed up at Daera. Her fingers found purchase on the princess' upper thighs gripping and then parting them. Daera gasped, squirming as she watched the witch claw towards her, her head settled between Daera's open thighs. 

"There we are..." Alys purred, as she pressed her face against the Princess's flesh, kissing her lightly, taking in her scent. The witch muttered once more, "Sweet... like moonbloom." 

Alys took her time, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her legs.  The witch's hands gripping and stroking Daera's flesh. 

"Have you ever had someone before, princess?" she asked, her breath warm like a summer evening.

Daera looked down, her brows furrowed in surrender. Her core aching and wet, she had never felt she desire before, never felt such need demand it be tended to. The Princess whispered, "No..." 

"Mm, as I thought, a flower left to wilt." The witch let her lips move upwards, trailing towards Daera's core, she spoke once more, "How lucky I am to be... to taste not just a dragon, but a maiden too. Lovely..." 

Alys placed a kiss upon the princess' core, though feather light, was but enough to make Daera's body shudder. 

The witch chuckled, her breath hot against Daera's slick folds, "Sensitive..." she murmured, a smirk upon her lips.

And just like that, Alys used  her hands to spread the princess' legs further, swiftly clasping her mouth upon Daera's cunt. 

The witch's tongue began to move, swirling as a serpent against the sensitive skin. She lapped up Daera's wetness and the princess was all but awe struck by the feeling. She parted her legs further, her hands coming to Alys' black locks, tugging at them. 

Her head falling backwards in bliss, mouth hung as a soft whimper left her. The feeling of Alys' tongue upon her felt like fire shredding through her skin, Daera moved her hips slightly chasing the intensity. 

As the princess' head dropped back Alys let her gaze wander upwards, enjoying the sight of the girl unleashed. Such a demure temperament Daera seemed to embody, seemed all but lost as the Princess groaned. Alys felt satisfaction coil in her, to have the silver haired girl brought to a whorish state only fueled the witch's ministrations.

She pulled back for a moment and muttered, placing teasing kisses upon the wet cunt before her, "Does it feel good, sweet dragon? To feel my mouth where no man has laid claim to you before?" Alys' voice like a siren song. 

The teasing kisses and soft tone of the witch made Daera whimper once more, she nodded. Her voice trembling, "Yes... my Lady.." 

Alys chuckled, enjoying hearing the princess call her 'lady'. The sight was one which was most wanton, the two women in such a vulnerable embrace, indulging in desires that would surely see them hung. Though a strange flicker of affection coiled within Alys. Unlike her brother, Daera was easier, sweeter. She was not used to such control, for usually she was the one to lay below a dragon. Aemond was rarely tender in his touch, at times it had seemed he merely wished to relinquish himself of something than indulge as Daera seemed to. 

Indeed, Daera seemed desperate for it, longing to be touched so tenderly. It was only a few times Alys had managed to encounter such need from Aemond. To have him laying in her arms, wrapped in an embrace. Though he oft acted above such affections after they took place. 

Alys tilted her head and spoke cooingly, "Such a pretty thing you are...such pretty sounds you make." With that, her tongue curled, finding the sweet, pulsing core of the princess once more.

Her hands gripped and pulled Daera closer, until she was all but pressed flush against the witch's face. Alys moaned at the sensation of her own cunt flooding with desire. 

Quickly, Daera felt the intensity building. She moaned, her head tilting further back as her back arched into the feeling. What a dream this was, what heavenly visions her mind had created. The pleasure so intense Daera hadn't noticed the sly sound of an open door. The slow, heavy footsteps of boots upon the creeking floor. 

A lonesome eye narrowing upon the scene. Raven hair buried between pale thighs. Silver hair catching in the thread of moonlight upon his bed. His paramour's lips upon his sister's cunt. 

It was no dream at all. 

○Part II○

[danikamariewrites]

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

[jasmineoolongtea]

i wish i hated you - geto suguru

"wish there was worse to you, i wish that you were worse to me"

contents: geto suguru x gn!reader, lovers to exes, angst, hurt + comfort, hurt + no comfort, following the events of the hidden inventory arc, gojo and shoko appearance as well

summary: it's been a few weeks since your seemingly happy relationship with geto came to and end in the blink of an eye, leaving you reeling from the aftershock. now tasked with cleaning up your dorm for graduation, you're sent down an unfortunate trip down memory lane of your and suguru's relationship and end after his departure.

wc: 2.4k ish

a/n: inspired by i wish i hated you by ariana grande. even though i do like writing fluff, my true passion is actually angst, especially writing gut-wrenching angst to sad music. hope you guys enjoy this one and any likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <33

A clean breakup. No tears, no snot, no painful begging to rethink the other's actions or to fight for whatever was left of the relationship. "It was better this way." He said, "We're not like those other couples, we're better than that." All you could do was nod as the knot at the bottom of your throat began to constrict itself into a weight that felt like it was going to drag you down with it.

What if you weren't better than them, you would think to yourself late at night. It wasn't like you were asking for a massive breakup fight like one straight from the movies, screaming and crying at each other through a thunderstorm, broken plates being tossed around haphazardly with you two spitting venomous insults at each other. You just wish that at least it ended like it was something, rather than nothing but even in your dreams, all you can find yourself doing is repeating the mistakes of your past as you stand there frozen in place, watching as his silhouette fades into the foggy recesses of your mind.

No matter where you went, it felt like you were constantly haunted by his presence, or whatever remained of it at this point. Hell, even your room didn't feel like it belonged to you anymore. You were a temporary guest that drifted through its old walls that echoed the haunted past of happier days, where you would lay with Suguru under the blankets, whispering sweet nothings, until both of you fell asleep. Every single thing in that room had been touched by him, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, to the point where if you closed your eyes hard enough, you swear you could feel him hovering in front of you. In times like those, you foolishly reach out to see if you steal back a few seconds of happiness, to see if you can experience his touch for only a fleeting second but are only met with nothing but the cold, empty silence around you.

If it was up to you, you would take nothing from your room when the time came. Ideally, it would become a time capsule, perfectly preserved to the point where you could still see the shadows of a not-so-distant past dance across the walls once the sun had set. Maybe once in a while, you would find yourself there again, making your way towards the bed that barely smells like him anymore and curl up to the memories of days when you and him would plan your futures together.

"Suguru," he hums in response, his back towards you as you card your fingers through his raven locks from the mattress behind him. "What are your thoughts on getting a pet together?"

"I could see us getting a cat together in the future." He replies, leaning his head against the mattress. "Actually, I could see us doing a lot of things in future."

At his words, your attention was immediately peaked as you let go of his hair and rearranged yourself on the cramped bed to lay on your stomach, arms wrapping around his neck as you silently implored him to continue on. He smiles softly at your antics.

"I could see us moving out of this dorm and into our own apartment where we could bribe Satoru and Shoko to become our very own moving company." You giggle to yourself at the thought. Good for you guys that your friends were so transparent with their wants. "Maybe in a few years down the line, we might decide to take the next step and at our high school reunion we would show off our matching rings." You murmur a few words of approval at his vision of the future. You could see it, stretching your left hand out in front of you as you envision a delicate ring resting upon your ring finger, a constant reminder of the love between you two. His gaze lands upon your outstretched hand and reaches up to intertwine his fingers with yours. Suguru starts rubbing circles around your ring finger as if testing how it would feel to be met with the coolness of a metal band around it instead of just the softness of your skin. Gently, he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss against your interlaced hands that elicits a shy giggle from you.

"A few years more, we might even have kids." He says suddenly, looking off into the distance through your dorm window.

You raise an eyebrow at him, curious about where he was planning to go with his vision. "Oh yeah? How many?" You question. It wasn't like you were necessarily thinking about having kids when you were barely on the border of adulthood. However, if you ever were going to raise children with anyone, you think you would want it to be with Suguru.

"I think 2 would be nice. Both girls." It sounds like he's thought a lot about this, considering how resolute his response is. You choose not to comment on though, despite feeling your cheeks grow with warmth at the thought of him taking so much care to plan his future out with you down to a detail like this. Sensing that you were starting to get lost in thought, he gave your hand a slight nudge. "What do you think?"

"I think it'd be nice." You respond back, leaning further forward to rest your head upon his shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Suguru gives your cheek a soft kiss before standing up from his position on the floor. Your hands are still interlocked as he hovers above you, pointing towards you on your bed. He always does this. Ever since you guys started dating and even before this, he always asked for permission to enter your space. He does this with 3 knocks on your door when he wants to come into your room, a shy tap on your shoulder when he wants to pull you closer to him and a point towards your bed whenever he wants to clamber in with you. You've told him before that he doesn't need to do this. To you, your space is basically his space at this point and he's always a welcomed guest. He only brushes off your comment with a simple smile and a brief kiss against your lips and continues on with this habit. Even now, with everything that had transpired, you think you would still let him in no matter how long it was since he came knocking.

Using your grip on him, you pull him down onto the mattress with you, shuffling back to the point where your back is against the wall as he rests his head against the pillow. Suguru opens his arms, inviting you into his embrace which you gladly accept with your head now resting against his chest. His arms encircle your figure as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart lull you into a sense of security. In this room, between these papered walls, is a sanctuary that the two of you had carved out for each other with your bare hands. Though you had only known Suguru for 3 years and were only dating for 2 of those years, you don't think you could ever fall asleep or feel even as safe without hearing, feeling and sensing the steady drum of his heart right next to you.

You knew first-hand how draining the world of jujutsu and curses was, even more so for those who were first-grade or special-grade sorcerers, and so it always warmed your heart knowing that Suguru was comfortable enough to relax around you. You could physically see how his shoulders would sag with relief every time he saw you safe and sound and you let yourself believe that with every brush of his hair and every soft touch, you were pulling away all the tension and stress away from him. It wasn't enough as you would soon come to find out and maybe, it would have never been enough.

The memory is only temporary. Like all memories are really. Just a recollection of the past and its ensuing ghosts. Holding out for a second longer in this state of limbo between reality and your mind won't make the memory last longer. You know this, but it doesn't stop you from trying to squeeze your eyes shut just a bit tighter hoping that you might be able to grasp onto its tendrils for just a bit longer. Eventually, you give up on trying and get up from your curled-up position on the bed. The sheets are crumpled but there's only the indentation of you on its surface, the usual presence of the second one now long gone.

As you begin to undertake the arduous task of cleaning out your closet, it dawns on you how much stuff that was left behind by Suguru. Prior to this, you thought that it would be you and him spending a lazy afternoon here cleaning it out before you moved into your shared apartment, reminiscing on the glory of your high school days together. Hell, you even entertained the idea that Suguru might have ransacked the room for his belongings when he decided to up and leave that night. It would have spared you all this pain of dredging up old memories. You never thought that it would be you who was cleaning it up alone.

If this was a normal breakup, you would pack his things up into a tidy little box and ship it off to wherever he was in the world with a note wishing him the best for his future endeavours. Out of sight and out of mind, you would think to yourself as you did it. Or maybe if you were more the vengeful type, you would throw a match onto it and watch with a cheap can of beer from the convenience store, the ones that you would always complain tasted like nothing but foam, in hand as the flames burned away remnants of the past. You could even picture Shoko taking a sip with you as you two both sat in silence. But you could never do that. No matter how badly you wanted to, even if it was a small mercy you could have afforded yourself.

A lot of this would be easier if you would dare to take that more permanent step of trying to erase him from your life. It would be a lot easier if you could understand why he chose to do this, breaking up with you days before he went to that village. You thought you two were happy, at least on your end you were. You think about what you've heard about how he ended things with Satoru. Why did he have to be so good with you until the end? When you broke down crying on that day, he turned around in his step and sat with you on a bench while you melted into a blubbering mess. He didn't need to do that. He wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He wasn't even your friend anymore with how he worded his goodbye. "It's better for us if we don't talk after this." was what he said. Yet, despite all of that, he still remained with you, rubbing soothing circles on your back whilst you sobbed against his chest. The next thing you remember from that day was waking up in your bed, eyes red and swollen, a dry throat and tucked into your bed with a glass of water on your nightstand.

It's not like you haven't tried to be angry at him. You think back to a few days ago when you tried to destroy some of the origami cranes that Suguru folded for you and left on your desk. According to Shoko, she said that stuff like that could be "cathartic for the soul." though you're pretty sure she stole that quote from a poster advertising a rage room. When you asked him why he did that late one night, he was as cryptic as ever, only sending you a soft smile as he started to fold another one right after finishing the first. You later found out from Satoru that he was planning to fold a thousand of them as he wanted to wish for your happiness and safety, he only got to about 20 before he left. It only took ripping up the first one for you to immediately regret your actions. Whatever anger there was in you dissipated the second you saw the shredded and butchered remains of the crane in your hands. Apparently, when Satoru and Shoko came to check in on you, it was already sunrise and you were still sitting there at your desk, trying to glue together whatever was left of the paper at that point.

All emotions felt manufactured to you when it came to Suguru. If you couldn't be angry at him, then you thought that you could be annoyed but that was a failure as well when you realised that it was a fault of your own that you didn't speak up when you had the chance to voice your thoughts to him. Regret wasn't an option as well because if anyone would ask if you regret meeting Suguru then your answer would be a resounding no. You wouldn't trade your time with him for anything. Trying to be happy could never work when you felt like there was a gaping, empty hole in your chest from where someone had ripped out the Suguru-shaped piece that managed to worm its way into there. Every time you put on a smile, it's like a failed imitation of what one pictures a smile to be, making you out to be a fraud amongst the sea of people who were still intact.

In all honesty, all your problems would be solved if you hated Suguru Geto. Then, just maybe, there was a sliver of a chance that you wouldn't feel burdened by all this pain and yearning for what once was and what could have been. It would be easier if he was worse, but that could never be that because that wasn't who he was. He was someone who cared for those around him with every beat of his bleeding heart, too much if you asked those close to him to the point where he would try to shoulder the weight of their world tenfold. Just like how there could not be worse things about him, you could never hate Geto Suguru despite everything.

[itzyxnct]

hi author can u write ryu x karina smut?

Kinktober Day 30 (🔞)

Ryujin × Karina - Bestie

In hindsight Karina should've probably knocked but Ryujin knew that she was coming over today so the thought didn't really cross her mind, Yeji had let her in and said the Ryujin was in her room so Karina went off to find her best friend, opening the door to her dorm room and the sight that met her had her drooling

Ryujin was sat there in nothing but a pair of boxers sorting through clothes on her bed and Karina couldn't tear her eyes away staring at the way Ryujin's tits jiggled as she threw something into the pile the was accumulating on the floor

Karina was still frozen when Ryujin looked up and finally noticed her, not even bothering to cover herself when she saw the brunette oggling her body, Ryujin just smirked slightly before saying "oh hi rina, I'm just sorting through my clothes to see what I don't want anymore, you wanna help" , in Karina's state right now she had lost the filter from her brain to her mouth and ended up saying " may as well throw them all out when you look like that without them" only realising she'd said that out loud when she heard Ryujin's laugh who then beckoned her over to come and sit next to her on the bed

Karina shuffled towards the blonde, sitting down and once again not being able to look away from her chest, now up close Karina could see the way Ryujin's nipples poked out hardened due to the cold air and Karina wished to know how they'd feel in her mouth

This whole time Ryujin had been talking and Karina hadn't heard a single word too enamoured by her thoughts of what she wanted to do to the beautiful blonde in front of her, Ryujin cleared her throat trying to get her attention but it failed so Ryujin turned to Karina, softly grabbing her chin lifting her face up to make eye contact "Eyes up here Rina" Ryujin let out finding this whole situation very amusing

Karina shook her head finally coming back to the real world "oh um yeah sorry I got a bit um....distracted, what were you saying " she let out timidly and started blushing

Ryujin just smiled,  put her hand on Karina's knee and repeated herself " I said Yknow you can touch them if you want" this made Karina's eyes go wide only being able to let out a "huh" before Ryujin had lifting Karina's hand placing it on her right boob, seeing Karina lick her lips in response before looking at Ryujin again as if asking for further permission when she noticed Ryujin staring at her lips and leaning closer, Karina doing the same until hot lips were on her own

As they were making out Karina remembered where her had was and began tweaking at Ryujin's nipple pulling the hard bud between her fingers and swallowing the whine Ryujin had released into her mouth

They pulled apart to catch their breath, foreheads against eachother as Ryujin let out a breathless "fuck" and Karina pecked her lips before moving down kissing along Ryujin's collarbone trailing her tongue along the soft skin until she was living out her previous fantasy taking Ryujin's sensitive nipple into her mouth sucking harshly and letting go with a pop as Ryujin started moving her hips, her wetness growing every second until she had to beg

"Rina please,  I need you, please fuck me" upon hearing this the brunette felt like she was dreaming watching as her best friend pulled down her boxers revealing the glistening lips she'd dreamt about every night for months,  and Karina didn't need asking twice wasting no time diving into Ryujin's delicious pussy, lapping up her wetness that seemed to never end before worshipping the blondes now throbbing clit, taking the bundle of nerves into her mouth, sucking and lick like she was ravenous and would never get the chance to devour the girl ever again, feeling honoured to have been chosen

Due to Karina's new found skill Ryujin's didn't last very long, she quickly came crashing into her high, having the best orgasm she'd ever had

They lay there, Karina's head on Ryujin's still bare chest just soaking in the silence of the moment , that was until Yeji came knocking on the door "sorry to interrupt your "bestie" time or whatever but Ryujin our managers just let me know we need to be at the studio in an hour so get ready "

Ryujin sighed not wanting to leave and just stay like this forever, she pulled Karina closer reply with a quick "okay" to Yeji and placing a kiss to Karina's forehead before they both sat up Ryujin saying "yeah we should probably talk about the whole "bestie" thing now because that was just ....wow" this making Karina laugh before hugging Ryujin once again settling into her neck and whispering "I love you Ryu" making Ryujin reciprocate her actions gently stroking through Karina's hair and replying "I never thought this day would come but I love you too, I think I always have" and with that they shared one last passionate kiss before Ryujin had to get ready to leave

As Ryujin walked Karina to the door to leaver they kissed goodbye and heard Yuna and Yeji bickering in the background "See I told you Yuna, cough up, you owe me, I won the bet" making Yuna pout and shout out to Ryujin and Karina "WHY couldn't you two have kept it in your pants for 2 more months, Now I have to buy her food for a month" the younger girl let out with an eye roll making the 2 girls at the door laugh before Karina left promising to come back later that night , which turned into every night

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

One of the issues with disney movies lately is some of the disney female protagonists is the adorkable personality. Which worked with Rapunzel and Anna but as time passed on, it seem to be the norm which the problem came once Wish revealed. Although despite that issues, all but Asha have reasons the way they are.

Rapunzel and Anna have been isolated from everyone with Rapunzel in the tower with only a chameleon as her friend and it didn't help that Mother Gothel is abusive to her while Anna stays in the castle with her sister being distant to her. I am not sure she is close with any of the servants since they are servants. Of course, they are socially awkward but they improve with Rapunzel having to experience social interaction in her TV series while Anna no longer has this in the sequel.

Moana is mostly serious and adventurous, which overshadows her quirkiness as only shown during her time in the ocean compared to the island as she fulfilled her duty as future chief. She has some laughable moments, but it doesn't stop her to continue her goal to saved the world and she is usually the serious of the two which the other is Maui.

Mirabel's quirkiness is the way she is because of how she isolated by her family and her village didn't pay much attention to her due to her being giftless which is why she tries her best to fit in. Her main personality is being empathetic as she helps her family with Antonio being brave enough with her favorite cousin by her side, Luisa talking about pressure that Mirabel listened, and Mirabel helping Isabel to let go of perfectionist. She can also be seen sassy like how she talks about Isabel.

Whereas Asha has no reason for the need to be quirky and awkward, she seems to be accepted by her friends, family, and the kingdom before the events of the story. She could have been an introverted, graceful woman who admired the king that she wanted to fulfilled his footsteps before realizing the truth.

Raya, Judy, Elsa, and Merida are the four disney female protagonist (not counting Pixar, I only included Merida since she is a princess) to not have that personality which is why are likable. The only issues they have is the movie itself especially Raya's movie theme being the trust message that is dangerous to followed, Zootopia's twist villain, the way Elsa is handle in the movies, and the bear curse parts.

Disney TV shows also have this issues with female protagonists, but not gonna say much since I am not sure if you know or not.

I haven’t seen like 3 of the movies listed here (Moana, Raya and the Last Dragon, and Brave) 😂 but I’ll trust that you know what you’re talking about, since I’ve seen Asha being compared to previous “adorkable” female leads like Rapunzel, Anna, Moana, and Mirabel in other Wish reviews.

The other 4 can have their quirkiness justified by being extremely sheltered and/or an outlier in their respective communities. However, this is not true of Asha, who is not only well known but also loved in Rosas—by her family, her friends, and heck, even the QUEEN.

It definitely feels like Disney got too comfortable with its formula, and in trying to please both modern audiences and older fans, they ended up pleasing no one. They’re so focused on making sequels and live action remakes now (which I guess is… easier??) 😅 I don’t know why Disney doesn’t make characters that are unique yet strong in their own ways. They’re capable of innovative characters (even if the execution of the overall stories aren’t great), as we see in Frozen and Zootopia (movies I have seen).

I did hear there was a lot of executive meddling in Wish’s production, so I wonder if this is why Asha had an unexplained quirkiness to her rather than a character that makes more sense for what she is and where she comes from. With her dad being a philosopher, I could see Asha working better as a quiet and introspective type who learns to be brave and to speak up for her own dreams and the dreams of those she loves rather than being a passive stander-by. This would actually give her a stronger character arc and growth rather than remaining static as she does in the actual movie we got 😔

[fakesimp]

Fiery Love

Warning !

Vox Akuma x Reader x Shu Yamino ; The use of Vox's 2.0 and 3.0 fit , Shu's 2.0 fit ; Unestablished Polyamorous Relationship

The world I created in this fic is not canon ! The world takes in the Past timeline !

A/n !

I see some wanted to see me write for these two again ! Yes again, I have wrote about these two in Polyamorous relationship before !

If you're new here, This is the first fic i wrote about them !

➶◜◝➴

One who's afraid of his own sorcery, never trusting his own powers. One who never talked about himself, also avoiding talking about his past.

There is some rumors going around the village said that if you ever went into the forbidden forest, you'll be eaten alive by demons, yokais, evil spirits.

Some said there is a Demon that have inhumane height, big wings, accompanied with a Sorcerer that have a high intelligence of dark magic. Some said that they're both are always together, if you see one, the other is definitely nearby.

And you were quite curious of that, some said it's a myth, some said it's true. You thought that it would be a good idea to see if it's true or not.

Here you are now, walking down the path, bought nothing but yourself and a lantern. You thought you'll just go through this forest for an hour or so before going back to the village, and everything goes according to plan !

Nothing happened,

You did got lost for quite awhile, but you manage to return back to the village in one piece. You're a bit disappointed upon the discovery, nothing happened when you entered the forbidden forest.

So you went to visit again the next day, the same exact hour, and again you walked out still disappointed. Nothing happened, you went on doing it for a whole week, and all of those days you wasted at night only filled with disappointment.

One day, you were having a quite hassle at your workplace. Not only that, even in your household. That is your worst day in the week, you went out to take a breather at night, you didn't even realize where your foot is taking you until you're standing in the middle of an open space in the fortunately familiar forest.

You turned, to see you're surrounded by trees, and trees. Of course, because you're in a forest, until you realized that a path slowly opens before you. The trees moved, opening a path for you leading to a well kept house at the distance. You hesitantly walked down the path, as you get closer, you didn't realize the trees behind you closed the path behind you.

The moon shines bright above you, shining down upon the house and you. Who' standing before the house, entranced by the beauty of the surroundings. Sakura trees bloomed around the house, rocky path before you leading to the sliding door, the side is a small wellspring where people usually wash their hands and mouth for to purify themselves before approaching the shrine.

You can hear the water flowing, the sakura trees rustling against each other. It was so peaceful, it made you don't want to leave this beautiful place.

Until you heard a loud thud behind you, soon followed with a low growl. Your body frozen, refuses to move, your feet refuses to take a step, you slowly turn around to see a tall, large being, staring down at you, his lips parted slightly, emitting smokes, and his large wings flapping slightly on his back made your body shiver.

Your eyes met with the beast, the Demon. It approaches you, oh so slowly. Making you falter, and fell down. Earning another growl from the Demon in front of you, soon you felt your back hit something. You look up to see a figure looming down over you, smiling.

"Well well, an unexpected guest..!" The male with a beautiful, long, raven hair slowly slides over from his shoulder, some hitting your shoulder, he leaned away and whispered an apology for his hair.

"Apologies, my hair is quite a hassle," He started as he kneeled next to you, looking at you curiously. "You know you could've got consumed if I came late" The male with a long raven hair, that have a rather unique iconic yellow hair at the left side.

His eyes are violet, it's so enchanting to stare at. The long raven haired male glanced over at the beast who had stopped moving, 10 feet away from you. "You should thank me for coming at the right moment before you're consumed by him" he chuckled before slowly standing back up again and stared down at you.

The demon took a step next to the long raven haired male, "I believe you already know what we are? Especially from those, rumors going on around your village" His violet eyes stares back into yours. He smiled, his smile is quite unique. It made your heart skipped a beat.

And then realization falls before you, you stared at the large figure behind this beautiful man who have such a long raven hair that's mixed with purple, pink and yellow.

These two are the two figures that the villagers mentioned,

The Demon and The Sorcerer.

"I, I'm sorry for disturbing you two, I," You glanced down upon yourself, "My head was in distraught, I had a bad day today. I didn't even realize where my foot is taking me" You started rambling. The two didn't say anything, they just silently stare at you.

"Shu" You glanced back up, "Huh?" "Shu Yamino, that's my name" He introduced himself. "And this," his hand extended to the side, pointing at the figure near him. "This is Vox Akuma." Shu introduced the other, "We'll let you stay, just for tonight since it's dangerous for someone like you, a human to wander around this forest at night"

Soon, the large figure behind Shu, Vox, slowly getting engulfed by smoke around him. And then when he stepped out, he is a whole different being. His golden eyes pierced into yours, his two horns on his forehead made him look appealing.

"Truly, I would've eaten you up if it was not for Shu stopping me from doing so." Your body shivers when you heard his low husky voice, "Go rest Human, Tomorrow morning you should be already in your room" Vox said before walking pass you, and stopped a few steps behind you.

"Don't think we don't know what you're doing last week" He said before disappearing into the house, Shu who had been standing quietly finally let out a small chuckle. "Apologies, he usually don't act that way, perhaps he just doesn't want to repeat the same incident" He said as he helped you get off from the ground.

"Incident?" The Sorcerer smiled agitatedly, "Whoops, I said too much," he said as he then start walking towards the house, "Come, I'll show you the room you're staying in for the night."

You hesitantly followed Shu, walking down the wooden floors, sometimes it creaked sometimes it doesn't. As you followed him, you noticed that this house is pretty decent, like how houses should normally be.

These type of houses usually would be owned by rich people, but to see such house in the forbidden forest made you wonder, your train of thoughts was come to a stop by a voice coming from the male before you.

"Stay curious, but try not to find out about your curiosity." The Sorcerer turned his head a bit, looking at you over his shoulder, his identic smile appeared once more. "You should be thankful you're alive right now, you could've been a whole feast for us" he chuckled softly at his questionable statement, "O, Okay" You replied, and then Shu slides the door next to him, "Here is your room, do avoid to wander around the house, okay?" He said as he wait for you to step into the room.

"Then again, humans are stubborn, if you want to wander around, go ahead," He said, his violet eyes no longer look friendly, "But this time I do not guarantee your safety." He said before his friendly face appeared again within a blink. "Well then, Goodbye, human" He said as he bow slightly before sliding the door close.

Leaving you alone in the room, it looks pretty cozy, with the table in the middle of the room, and then a vase on it, along with a futon folded up at the corner. The moon shines through the window, making the room look quite. Lonely.

You sat near the window and looked up at the night sky, at the moon who high up in the dark sky. Accompanied by the stars around it,

It's beautiful.

Your thoughts now goes back to those two, The demon and The Sorcerer. They look like they're not quite fond with humans, especially Vox, he seems to despise you.

Shu seems more friendlier, but he, there is something wrong with him that doesn't click right on you. It's like, he is physically there, but also not there.

Your eyes slowly gets drowsy, but before you fell asleep on the window, you get to the futon, opening them, and you just scoot into the futon. The moment your head hits the pillow, you're out cold.

. . .

Birds chirping outside, you opened your eyes to see a familiar ceiling, you looked around.

It's your room.

It's exactly like Vox said, you're now back into your room, you don't know how they did it, but one thing is that, You want to see them again, will fate let you see them again?

Will they let you see them again? Question after question kept on appearing one after another, you want to see them, but do they want to see you?

You sighed at the thought and went on your day with them plaguing your thoughts.

. . .

Night arrives and your stubborn self standing outside the forbidden forest, holding a latern. But before you step into the forest, you heard a familiar voice.

"Foolish human"

"Haha, you're a stubborn one, I thought the warning is enough, don't you value your life?"

You turned to see where the voice coming from, nowhere, and then you look up at one of the trees, you see a familiar raven purple hair dangling, then a violet eyes staring back into yours from the dark.

Then under the tree there's a piercing golden eyes looking back into yours too, but then those eyes slowly turned pink, and then there' smoke emits from the dark.

The familiar large figure looms out from the dark, you didn't realize your hands clenched onto your latern so tightly, "Do you know what you're getting yourself into, human?" The demon's voice growled as he stand tall under the shades.

"No, I don't, or maybe I do" You said as you look at these two who's in the shades, "Turn back, don't make things more difficult than it already is." Shu's enchanting voice demanded, "You wouldn't want to know what's going on inside this forest now" he continued and let out a chuckle.

"Let them be Shu, humans are stubborn, if they want to die then let them die." Vox turned around and walked away, soon Shu jumped down from the tree and stares at you, smiling. Though his eyes isn't.

And then you blinked, and Shu is standing right before you, his face right next to your ears, making your breath hitched. "You are nothing but food to those beings in the forest, if you want to be feasted on that badly then go ahead. Both I and Vox told you to stay away for your own safety." He leaned back a bit, you both stared at each other.

Shu's gloved hand touches your chin, "Someone like you doesn't belong in this hellish place," he whispered, his thumb glaze along the lines of your chin. "But Humans are stubborn by nature, when they want something, they will get them no matter what, no?" He leans dangerously close to your lips.

But then let out a small laugh as he stepped away and walked away from you like he did nothing wrong, leaving you breathless, dumbfounded on the spot.

"If you still insisting on going then go ahead, because this time they're no longer hiding." That is the last thing he said before leaving you alone, you looked around, your legs almost lost it's strength after what the Sorcerer did.

You couldn't forget his scent, he smells rather sweet, and intoxicatingly addictive.

. . .

That night you didn't enter the forest, you turned your back on the forest and walked away, you can't forget what Shu did to you that time.

It plays on loop on your head, he was so close to you, you can feel his breath, his scent strokes your nostrils to the addictive amount, his voice sounds enchanting.

Ugh, he is so intoxicating.

. . .

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. You didn't visit the forbidden forest like how they wanted you to be, but you'll be lying if you didn't miss them.

One night you went to the forest again, and the same incident happened once more.

"Just when I thought you'll stop coming back forever, of course you're going to return." A familiar husky voice echoed through your eardrums, you tilt your head to the owner of the voice. "Vox.." You whispered his name, as you do he walked out from the shades, taking a few steps before stopping a few feet before you.

His golden eyes bore into yours, he then approached you, closer, and closer. To the point he's so close to you that his figure is looming over you, "Leave," he started.

"While I asked nicely." His eyes soften a slightly, but it disappears as quick as it appeared. "Why do you keep insisting on me leaving, Vox?" You asked him, he' silent. He didn't say anything, instead he leaned his face closer to yours.

"You really want to waste your life? "

His golden eyes stared into yours, filled with so many emotions. He then take a step back and walked away, "We're just trying to not let you waste your life as food, but of course your kind doesn't care and proceed on coming here and become free food to feast on." He said before stopping on his tracks, he looked over his shoulder, "Though if you do want to be food that bad," he trailed off "I could feast on you, and you won't be feeling any pain."

"Ha, how ridiculous Vox" "Tsk, well nevermind then" Vox sighed softly as he eyed Shu who innocently walked out from the dark, smiling at you and then him, "Well, it's nice to see you again human, I thought you're already getting feasted on" he laughed softly.

"It's good to see you still in one piece" He glanced at you, "Though, you came at the worst timing" Shu said as she shove his hands into his sleeves, "Tonight is Red Moon, they're going out to find humans to feast on" he said casually, both his violet eyes glistens under the moonlight, along with Vox's golden eyes staring at yours.

"Well? Do you want to be feasted on? Or do you still want to live?"

"Turn and walk away if you still want to live, or You will be eaten alive right here and now"

"Haha, that sounds so brutal Vox, you could've been a bit more subtle about it"

"Hmh, ..So, what do you choose?"

But before you could have a moment to think, you hear footsteps coming closer to the three of you, all of you turned to see who's approaching.

"Oh.. Uninvited guests" Shu said as he took a step before you, shielding you away from the 'uninvited guests'. Vox at the other hand summoned his katana, "Well I have no plan on sharing." The demon said as he stared at the distance, "Haha, well at least you're sharing with me?"

Both of them talked about sharing and you have no idea what exactly are they talking about, both of them then stopped talking and look back at you.

Shu's violet eyes narrowed, as he smiled at you.

Vox's golden eyes coldly stares into yours, looking at you, like, you're his prey.

Oh dear, what's going to happen to you?

©fakesimp . 2023

Splitting this into parts, how are you guys feeling? Yaminions? Kindreds? How's the fic? You like it? And boy I did not intend to write the fic this long lol.

|| Part 2 ->

A/n !

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated !

Get this fic to 300 notes, and I'll write the second part.

[soullessdianthus]

♡‧₊˚✧˖° | Biker!Alejando X Reader X Biker!Rudy

s: biker!au with Los Vaqueros and inappropriate, polygamous relationship with a younger reader, because I was asked a few times to write for perv!Ale ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I'm more than willing to elabroate on this au *wink wink*

w: age gap (reader is in early to mid twenties, ale and rudy around their forties), mentions of drug dealing and violence, nfsw (daddy kink, dp, oral m!reciving)

It all started innocently as you started working at the local diner during the summer break. The place was vintage and messy, but served the most delicious food in Las Almas. People came here at each time of the day, bringing their family for a meal or a drink. 

Despite being rather reserved towards strangers you enjoyed working there and talking to people. However, the night shifts were the worst part as you had to close the register and the diner alone and then walk to the nearest bus stop to catch a ride home. 

Everyone knew that nightlife in Las Almas was dangerous, especially for such an innocent and sweet person as you. Drug dealers sneaking around each corner, drunken bar fights and more – who knows, maybe you poured them a cup of morning coffee earlier? 

And those damned Los Vaqueros, a local motorcycle club who self-proclaimed themselves as a deputy of the locals. It was true that they did in fact condemn the cartel’s doing by smuggling narcotics and slowly were cleaning the city out, but they were smuggling weapons at the same time! 

The bikers would often come by to the diner you worked at to have a feast or just a couple of refreshing drinks on their way. They were customers like everyone else and as long as they were overall behaving decently, you weren’t opposed to serving them their orders. 

It wasn’t the first time you caught their vice president – Rudy, staring at you. However, it wasn’t a rude or creepy kind of staring, no. The man seemed quite polite and he always tipped you well. He wasn’t handsy and smiled at you each time you served him his favorite dessert. You grew to have a tiny little crush on him.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when the president himself and Rudy’s best friend – Alejandro finally noticed you too (it didn’t take that long to be honest). And even regarding the circumstances, you didn't mind their attention. You felt... kind of special? An apple in the eyes of older men who found you pretty. What was wrong with that?

One evening, when the sun had set behind the horizon and only a few customers were left, Alejandro and Rudy decided to stop at the diner. They sat in the farthest booth in the corner, tall walls separating them from the rest of the restaurant.

When you placed their bottles of frozen cola on the table, a sudden yank on your forearm made you lose your balance. It was the president of LV himself that pulled you into his lap with no shame at all. 

You had fallen onto his spreaded thighs, hand clutching onto his leather vest as you looked at Rudy sitting across the table with wide eyes. 

— So clumsy — Alejandro clicked with his tongue, a proud smirk painting on his tanned face when he noticed you blushing — and so pretty, no? I see why you like her, hermano.

— Don’t scare her, pendejo [sp.: idiot]. — His friend said, flustered by this whole situation. Rudy continued to play with the bottle’s metal cap between his fingers.

— Sir, I have to go back to work. 

You stated the truth, trying to wiggle out of his grip and to stand up. But the man was stronger and so he wrapped his bulky arm around your waist. His muscles were so soft and warm and...

— Ay, not so quickly, ninfa [sp.: young girl] — Alejandro pulled you back onto his lap, causing the hem of your skirt to roll up your thighs — my friend here, he always tips you well, yes?

The raven-haired man knew how to wrap a woman around his finger. Better, he knew how to cast spells, because when his coarse palm made contact with the smooth skin of your exposed thigh, you shivered with excitement. 

— Y-Yes? He’s very kind.

— You like him? — He continued to stroke your pretty leg as you looked at the soft look in Rodolfo’s eyes. — Don’t you think you should thank him? 

— I always… — You were extremely confused, when you retraced your head towards the president of Los Vaqueros and then back to the object of your crush. — T-Thank you, sir.

— Not like that, silly. Let him take you out, hm? How about that?

Alejandro chuckled and bounced his leg at the same time, causing you to catch an embarrassing gasp in your throat. 

— We can go to the park or grab a coffee if you’d like. — Rudy finally spoke, moving around in his seat, obviously content that you were even considering the offer of a date. 

You bit down on your lip, before responding as Ale pulled the clean napkin closer to the edge. 

— O-Okay, I’d like that.

— Write your number, sweetheart. 

The man who served as your personal chair pointed at the napkin. Without further fuss you grabbed the pen from the apron that was underlining your curves just right and wrote down the numbers. Only then, Alejandro released you from his grip and helped you get up, smoothing the material of skirt. 

— That’s a good girl. Go back to work. 

And just before you could glance at them for the last time and leave, the raven-haired biker playfully slapped your ass through the clothes, causing you to walk faster. The eggs that table number seven ordered must have gone cold by now. 

The two older men left you flustered, blushing and conflicted about your morals – they were probably twice your age! So how did they manage to speed the beating of your heart and arousal pool in your panties? 

That one, innocent park date with Rudy turned into another few meetings, but the whole “thing” started to include Alejandro as well. So now it was the three of you in one relationship. 

They clearly made it clear to the other club members that you were their girl, because none of them dared to stare at you for too long. Oh God, forbid others touching you. One of your older boyfriends would pick you up after work, so you didn’t have to take that shady bus at night. At the same time taking you for a short ride on their bikes. 

Dear heavens, how Rudy adored when you hugged to his broad back so tightly, afraid of falling off the motorcycle. Since the first meet up, he felt responsible for something as fragile as you.

When in public they always kept their arms hooked around you, caging from the dangers of the world – because you were such a sweet and pure soul, too good for Las Almas’ ugliness or violence. 

Sleeping between them in huge bed became a daily routine as much as them fucking you nicely to sleep. 

When Rudy was trying to keep the thrust of his hips steady and not too rough, Alejandro was a complete opposite. They would take you at the same time, raven-haired telling you to swallow his throbbing cock down your throat, meanwhile Rodolfo would play with your pussy until your slick dripped down his wrist and only then, he would finally stretch your cunny on his big, swollen shaft. 

— Come on, be a good girl for daddies. — Ale would be the one with the dirtiest mouth on the planet. His filthy remarks caused you to blush and feel humiliated, especially when he constantly reminded you how this relationship is deranged, because of the age difference. 

He fucking adored when you referred to him as “daddy” or clung to him, desperate for attention, basically crawling up his lap.

At the same time, Rudy would fuck you gently, both of his hands on your hips, helping you to stay put. The vice president was the one to worship you in bed and do all the work for you and your pleasure. He secretly loved when you marked him with your soft, plump lips – hickeys, bite marks, but also scratches on his toned back caused by your nails. 

There was a fine line between the personalities of your older boyfriends, nonetheless you loved them the same. For them, finding such a controversial little girlfriend to share and play with was like a new purpose sent from heaven. 

It was like walking around a sketchy neighborhood with two dobermans by your side.

[moosesarecute]

Part 14: The Shadows Sing

Part 13 Part 15

“I thought we had an agreement,” Master Raven told you. You could almost feel his patience slipping away.

“We did,” you said confidently. “We did, before you decided to make a deal with the people I despise the most in this world. Before you betrayed my trust.”

Master Raven let out a sigh.

“You’ll never pay your debt if this is all you hunt for. You’ve only gotten me three animals these two weeks!”

You were almost shaking with disbelief.

“You only have three things a week that I can hunt for. The rest is for the Illyrians! The Illyrians need this, the Illyrian needs that! What do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to grow up, stop your childish tantrums and help the rest of your community!”

“Just give me my money.”

He handed you the small bag of money and you made your way out of his cabin. You tried to walk away fast, even though your prosthetic still was dragging against the ground.

“What happened to your prosthetic?”

You stopped.

“Your new friends jumped me.” You answered facing the door and not him.

“What did you do?”

Of course he immediately thought you did something.

You left, shaking your head as you walked out the door without closing it.

“Letter from master!” You had to hold in front of your ears as your shadows screamed at you.

“You delivered my letter to him right?” You immediately asked them.

“Yes! But Master’s shadows also had a letter!”

You let out a relieved sigh. You sat down at the table with the letter in your hand.

Your heart felt heavy. What if he told you he never wanted to see you again? He had been nothing but nice to you and to sent him away. Perhaps you ruined it.

“Open it! His shadows seemed happy!”

Probably happy to get rid of you.

You felt a hit to the back of your head.

“Hey!”

“They love you!”

Still hesitant about believing them, you opened the letter and started reading your illyrian’s beautiful handwriting.

My Huntress,

I’m sorry for reaching out. I know you wanted me to leave, but I just can’t stay away. If you tell me to leave again, I will listen. I crossed a line and I know that, but it won’t happen again. I promise.

My shadows would come give me updates on you and I can’t live with myself without helping you.

They told me you still have problems with your prosthetic, so I reached out to a master tinker from the Day Court. Turns out she gifted you the leg in the first place.

The screw that my shadows gave to yours will help with the mobility.

Please don’t hesitate writing back to me, I’m here if you need me.

x A

“You have the screw?” You asked your shadows.

When they didn’t answer you turned to look at them. All of them were frozen behind your shoulders, obviously having a peak at the content of the letter.

“What?”

“Read it again, Mistress,” they answered.

You did as they said, but you still didn’t get it.

“Again, Mistress.”

They told me you still have problems with your prosthetic, so I reached out to a master tinker from the Day Court. Turns out she gifted you the leg in the first place.

Turns out she gifted you the leg in the first place.

Gifted

Azriel stood leaning against the wall, listening to Devlon’s third excuse for why 15 of his illyrian warriors had disappeared.

Every time the male explained himself, the explanation was a little different then the last one.

“So you’re saying you know nothing about the rogue warriors that ambushed my brothers,” Rhys asked him. He looked extremely calm, but Azriel knew he wasn’t. “You don’t know how many they are?”

Devlon shook his head.

Feyre let out a sigh.

The meeting had been going on for almost two hours, without getting anywhere.

In two weeks they almost didn’t have any more information about the illyrians. Azriel had told his High Lady and Lord what you had told him, but it wasn’t much.

They wanted power, but how would they get it? Azriel hoped that you would know something and that his apology would help him get closer to you again.

Everyone turned their heads towards the door as Azriel’s shadows abruptly stormed into the room.

Rhys stood up, having come to the same conclusion as Azriel: something had to be seriously wrong.

His shadows were well behaved and knew when to not interrupt.

They rushed towards him and basically threw a paper bag at him.

He froze as he saw your rushed handwriting.

The illyrians are going to kidnap the High Lord and Lady’s son. They just left from here. They winnowed.

Please let me know he’s okay.

Azriel met Rhys’ concerned eyes as he bolted out the door. He immediately flew towards the cabin where he had lived with Rhys’ mother, Rhys and Cassian growing up.

The cabin where Nyx and Sonja currently were playing.

“Gone, dead.” His shadows told him, but he refused to believe them.

The door was open.

He landed on the ground and sprinted into the cabin.

“Blood, terror.”

“Pain, dead.”

He stopped as he entered the living room.

There Sonja laid on the floor. She was covered in blood and wasn’t breathing.

The rest of his family came storming into the living room where Azriel stood frozen.

“Where is he?” Feyre asked. “Where? Azriel, where is he?”

“The illyrians have him,” Azriel responded.

Feyre’s scream, Azriel was sure, could be heard throughout all seven courts.

For the first time in weeks you dared to shadow walk outside of your cabin.

You were simply too distressed to care.

He had lied to you, for over 50 years! You had paid back your debt for your training ages ago! He only told you half a year ago, but you had paid it was over five years ago!

You could have been free five years ago!

You had to force your shadows to stay behind as you stormed into Master Raven’s house. You had left everything behind and were still dragging your prosthetic against the ground.

“What the hell do you mean you lost him? How?” You heard Adrian’s muffled voice.

“He just disappeared in front of our eyes!”

You opened the doors.

“Get out,” you yelled at the illyrians.

“The bastard has come to play,” Adrian taunted you, but you didn’t care anymore. Your entire life was a lie.

You turned to Adrian.

“Get the fuck out!” You yelled and then turned your gaze to Master Raven. “Except for you.”

“You can’t just burst in here-“

“I know you’ve lied about my debt, so I think that means I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

You had silenced him. He rushed the illyrians out the cabin.

“So what is it you think you know?” Master Raven asked. His eyes were almost black with anger.

“My prosthetic was a gift. The money you have made me pay back hasn’t been used. You owe me money.”

“And tell me girl, how do you know this?” He asked tilting his head.

You’re not letting him intimidate you, not today.

“So you’re admitting that you lied.”

He let out a forced laugh.

“What would you have done? Where would you have gone? There’s no one here that wants to be with you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you have been talking to outsiders?” It was more like a statement rather than a question.

“Yes, I have.”

“That’s against the rules and you know it. I’m sure you know what happens to traitors.”

“I met him half a year ago, my debt was paid five years ago. You can’t hold me back for disobeying rules for the last five years.”

“You think I care?” Master Raven asked as The Raven lifted off the ground. “You, Y/N, are a traitor. And you know what we do with traitors.”

As The Raven got closer and closer to you, you realized you no longer had a choice. You had to get away and that fast.

You used all the power in your body and called your shadows. Luckily for you, they had been lingering in the shadows of the room the entire conversation.

It only took a couple of seconds and you were back in your cabin.

“Thank you,” you said holding back tears. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best thing that have ever happened to me.”

Your shadows embraced your entire body, but after a while they let go.

“We might have done something as you were gone.”

You felt dread fill your body. This can’t be good. It reminded you of the time you let them try out a new hunting technique and the almost burned down the entire forest.

You were ready to question them, but you soon realized you didn’t need to.

On your bed sat a small winged child and played with two of your shadows, the two you often called ‘the parents’. He couldn’t be older than two or three. He looked up at you with big blue eyes.

“Uncle Azzy!”

You felt your heart freeze as you realized that before you sat the heir of the Night Court.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

“Fuck!” Nyx repeated.

“No, shit, don’t say that!” You said rushing towards him.

“Shit!”

You felt a shadow hitting the back of your head.

“Are you hurt?” You carefully asked him.

He shook his head and continued to play with your shadows.

“Go get Azriel! Right now. As fast as you can. You have an hour at most. I’m going to pack.”

You sent away almost all your shadows, leaving only the two that played with Nyx behind. You knew that they travel the fastest in bigger groups.

Nyx jumped up from your bed and begun chasing your shadows around the cabin.

A different day and with different circumstances you could have enjoyed the sight, today however, it only made you annoyed.

Imagine having so little understanding about the dangers he was currently facing.

He ran around and you noticed his wings drooping and sometimes hitting the floor.

“You have to pick up your wings, you’ll hurt them if you drag them against the ground,” you said.

“Daddy always says the same thing!” He exclaimed. “Are you like Daddy? He can hide his wings.”

You only shook your head at his curiosity.

“No, I lost my wings many years ago.”

“But your illyrian?” He asked, pronouncing illyrian in the most adorable way.

“I was, but not anymore.”

“Do you miss it?”

That made you think. You missed flying. In the rare nights you had dreams instead of nightmares, you would be flying. Lately you were flying together with a certain illyrian, in your favorite dreams.

You also missed belonging to a place. In the Middle you felt quite lonely. You’d meet up with your group, but other than that, you were alone.

On the other side, you hated the way you were treated and would rather spend your life running than having to stay at one of the camps again.

“Mommy always says I can be whatever I want, so if you want to be an illyrian again, I think you could.”

His childish behavior made you smile.

Nyx continued playing with your shadows as you packed. It wasn’t a lot you needed, but you packed your letters from Azriel, the little food you had left and strapped all your weapons onto your body.

You were about to get Nyx and start leaving the forest when you heard a knock on your door.

You immediately turned to Nyx, you saw him open his mouth, but before he could speak, your shadows covered his mouth.

“Hide him in the closet! Don’t let anyone that isn’t me or Azriel come get him. You two stay here.”

You walked with heavy steps towards the door, so that they would hear you, but also to give yourself a little more time.

You opened the door to your cabin.

“Hello, traitor,” Adrian said. “Bastard, traitor, you really like the nicknames, don’t you?”

“What do you want?” You answered, sounding annoyed. You wouldn’t let him scare you. You had to stay strong, for Nyx.

Adrian shrugged and faster than you could react, smashed his fist into your jaw.

You immediately felt dizzy, but you knew you had to get you two away from your cabin. Away from Nyx.

“Too weak to fight back are we?”

You straightened your back and without actually seeing what you were doing jumped directly onto Adrian. The earth was spinning as you hit the ground.

“You bitch!”

The next thing you knew, was a fist crashing directly into your left eye and you fell into darkness.

“Who’s going in?” Cassian asked. “We know there’s at least 50 of them! We need many people.”

“We can’t send illyrians, that too risky. Some of them could turn against us mid fight.” Rhys argued.

“Why don’t we just show up and kill everyone in our way to get to him. I’m not sitting here waiting! It’s my son!” Feyre yelled.

“He’s my son too! They’ll kill him if we do that!”

Azriel just stood in the corner, brooding. How did he know the Illyrians were coming? It’s his fault, the entire thing!

“Mistress’ shadows are coming,” his shadows informed him.

Not even seconds later, he was tackled to the ground by your shadows. In a distance, Azriel could hear his family’s confused banter. Your shadows were swirling around him, he was certain he could see their mouths opening and closing. They were screaming at him.

“Calm down! It’s okay! Calm down,” he said and tried to pry them of him.

“What are they saying?” He asked his own shadows.

He patiently waited for them to communicate. They danced around each other as they spoke. Azriel could almost see the fondness between them.

“The leader betrayed Mistress, shadows rescued Nyx.”

“Where is Nyx now?”

“In Mistress’ cabin.”

“Thank the gods,” Azriel said in a sigh.

“What’s going on?” Feyre asked him.

“I know where Nyx is,” Azriel said.

“Take me to him,” Feyre said.

“But-“

“NOW!”

Azriel gave his High Lady a nod and shadow walked them, together with your shadows, into The Middle.

Unfortunately, it was also directly into the Illyrian’s trap.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @mrsjna @kitsunetori @thecraziestcrayon @blessthepizzaman @mybestfriendmademe @scatteredstardustt @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @topaz125 @miadialila

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Do you have any Kane headcanons?

I sure do! <3

Rating: T  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?•ko-fi•

EDIT: shout out to @reallyrallyauthor who has just posted some amazing headcanons too!

Smells floraly. It’s not an extreme/off putting smell, but it hits you every now and then. At first, you think it’s just his body wash or something, but pretty soon you work out it’s just him. (My brain is telling me especially like a Hawthorn scent for some reason.) 

Animals love him. It’s almost like they are hypnotised/drawn to him. Wild animals will act domesticated/docile around him. Pets will instantly bond with him. He doesn’t seem to bat an eye at this and just acts as if it’s completely normal. 

Once a grizzly bear came out of nowhere when you were both on a hike, despite the noise you had made sure you’d been making. You’d frozen, grabbing at Kane’s arm. But Kane had just cocked his head to the side and the bear had sat down peacefully. 

“It’s fine.” Kane had told you, voice even and quiet.

But when he saw your panic, he’d nodded his head to the side and the bear had walked off that way. 

He didn’t understand why you’d dragged him back to the car. “It was fine.” 

“Grizzly’s kill people Kane.” 

“We were safe.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

He’d looked at you carefully, as if you were a toddler trying to convince him you’d see a flying pig. 

He doesn’t like to shake hands when meeting new people. It’s unsettling for him, makes his skin crawl. But he’ll do it anyway once he learns about social niceties to try to fit in. However, he’ll grab your hand afterwards and squeeze it rhythmically to calm down and get rid of the stranger’s touch. 

He gets overstimulated easily in new situations around new people and will just shut down, not speaking and avoiding eye contact completely. His warning signs are subtle and easy to miss unless you’re paying attention. 

However, if you’re near he’ll find you and just say, “leave.” quietly. 

He also comes to you when he’s overstimulated, most of the time he’ll just bury his face in your neck to shut out whatever is causing him distress. 

Despite not liking touching strangers he is more than happy to touch plants, animals and inanimate objects. And you. 

In fact he rarely does anything without some kind of physical contact with you. Holding your hand or touching your arm or leg, putting his head on your shoulder, practically laying in your lap. He’s like a cat. 

Doesn’t like it when you’re upset. It’s one of the rare times you see an immediate reaction from him, even if he doesn’t understand what’s upset you or made you angry he’s doing whatever he needs to to fix it. To stop you from feeling pain. 

Someone once pushed you rudely in the supermarket and you frowned. Kane was one second away from throwing a punch. You had to drag him out of the shop and explain that that wasn’t an ‘appropriate response’. 

He has settled on being very vocal if someone is impolite towards you, just saying “Rude.” very loudly and pointedly while staring the offender down. 

People don’t like his stare. The one he only seems to use when something’s gone wrong. When someone’s trying to square up to him. It seems to stop them in their tracks and make them reconsider. Causes a little spike of terror in their hearts. 

He’s never used the look on you, only gazing at you quizzically or softly. 

He follows you around, a little lost at times. Needing to be in the same room as you. 

At first it was a little disconcerting. The way he’d climb into your bed in the middle of the night. How he once got in the bath with you (fully clothed and not understanding your shock). You never feel scared around him though, you know he’ll never hurt you. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

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[onlycrystal]

a night to remember

cw: smut (obvi), reader is a virgin, dom! toji, sub! female reader, age gap (reader is in college), reader is shy, ddlg, size kink, praise kink, tojis a lil mean andddd i think that’s it

authors note: this is my first time writing i’m so sorry if it’s bad😭

rave music blared in your ears, while at the same time, the flashing colorful lights began to hurt your eyes. you looked across the club at your friends and their boyfriends, drinking and dancing (pretty much grinding) with eachother. you sighed, mixing the ice in your diet soda with your straw. you had never been a party girl, but today was your friends 21st birthday.

“it’ll be fun, y/n! pleaseee please come,” she begged as she saw the hesitation in your eyes, but you couldn’t say no.

which led you to now. alone at the bar, developing a headache from the setting you found yourself in, and wanting to go home. it didn’t help that you were wearing a short dress too, sure it was cute, but you shamefully kept pulling it down to avoid it riding up.

you sighed and continued to sip your drink, when all of the sudden out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of someone sitting down next to you. he was definitely an older man, probably late 30s early 40s. at least 6 feet tall and buff as hell. his raven covered locks slightly covered his gaze, and he had a scar on his lip that enhanced his grin. you looked up at him, to find him already staring at you. although you were both sitting down, you still had to look up to meet the man’s gaze. he looked at you like he wanted to devour you, those green eyes looking you up and down. and that smirk, it never left his face.

“i’ll take a beer, and how bout a shot of vodka for this lovely lil’ lady?” he asked the bartender

“i-i uh… i actually don’t drink…” you said, looking down and fidgeting with your hands. oh, he was having a field day with this. you were just sooo cute <3

“that’s alright sugar, then how bout a diet coke instead?” he winked at you and you felt your face start to heat up. who was this guy?

the bartender walked away and he didn’t waste anytime. “now, what’s a lovely lil girl like you doing in a place like this alone?” his tone was playful, though you still had trouble being in his presence. he was just so intimidating. “o-oh my friends ditched me.. they’re somewhere over there.” you huffed, looking off in the direction of your friends. had they seriously forgotten about you?

the bartender came back with your drinks, handing you your drink that you immediately began drinking. “you got a name, darling?” he said, taking a gulp of his beer. “it’s uh… y/n”

“pretty.” he said, looking straight into your eyes with lust, “names toji”

“‘s nice to meet you t-toji…” you kept your gaze down, feeling his eyes never leaving you like a predator. your headache worsened, and his head tilted at you, seeing you wince in pain. “you need to go outside, doll? you ain’t looking well… i’ll come with ya”

you nodded your head meekly, beginning to stand up and wobbling slightly as you did. this was all just too much. suddenly, you felt an arm grasp at you side, pulling you close. it was toji. he walked you both outside as you shyly kept your blushing face close to his toned chest. you reached the outside and already felt yourself feeling better, breathing in the fresh air carefully.

you realized you were still snug up against his torso, when you moved away quickly. your face turned pink “s-sorry! i didn’t mean to uh… i didnt-“ he grinned looking down at you from a foot distance “it’s alright babydoll…” he brought you close again, kneeling down to match your gaze. he tucked a fray hair behind your ear and kept a hand on your face “pretty lil thing… aren’t ya?” you were frozen, his face was so close to yours and he was just so handsome… those green eyes are so entrancing, you thought. and that scar…

suddenly, he closed the gap between you two and kissed you. you felt his tongue swirl into your mouth as he bit your lip, causing you to whimper in pain and pleasure. he pulled away, “whaddya say we take this to my place, darlin’?”

you considered. your friends were already drunk off their asses and had forgotten about you. you looked at toji again. he was a very attractive man and as much as he intimidated you, he also enchanted you. you had never had such a fine guy come up to you, and he seemed nice. what’s the worse that could happen, you thought to yourself.

you looked at the ground blushing harshly and fidgeting your fingers yet again, “s-sure…” he grinned as he called you both a taxi.

————————————————————————

you arrived at his apartment, and walked in. it was far from unkempt. the kitchen was clean, and he had an organized living room with limited furniture. you didn’t know what to do with yourself, and looked at him. he was unbuttoning a couple of the buttons on his sleek shirt and looked down to see you gazing at him, looking away quickly and shyly as he caught you looking. “ah! s-sorry…” you turned the other way, hearing a deep chuckle come from behind you.

“adorable…” he muttered, as he walked behind you pressing his body against yours. you froze as he began to pepper kisses along your neck, sucking ever so slightly just enough to make you moan quietly. his grip was harsh as he laid kisses all over your body. you turned around and starting making out with him. he groaned into your lips, and his gaze angled down as he say you standing on your tippy toes wobbling in order to barely meet his lips. he chuckled and picked you up suddenly to place you on his marbled kitchen counter. your legs wrapped around his body as you both embraced harshly.

he pulled away, your lip stick had smeared on his lips, leaving him with berry marks all over his lips. “come on shorty~” he picked you up and began walking to his bedroom.

he placed you on his bed, which was made neatly and quite comfortable. he started to unbutton the rest of his shirt, and took it off. his exposed chest was toned perfectly. this man was muscular af, like he could crush you easily. he gazed at you and smirked sleezily.

“what, do you even need help undressing, lil girl?” he began walking over to you, and the height between you grew. you looked up and gulped, “no! i just…er- i…” you nervously fidgeting in your place as toji began to piece things together. he let out a booming chuckle which only further embarrassed you. “my fucking god. i landed myself a virgin, didnt i?~” that same playful tone, but you could hear the lust and desire behind it. he put his hand on your chin and forced to look up at him. “daddy’ll take care of you just fine~”

he began taking your dress off, leaving you in just a bra and panties. toji pinned you down on the bed, interlocking his fingers with you passionately as you made out with eachother sloppily. he unclipped your bra sleekly, and fondled your pretty boob in his hand while sucking on the other. you moaned in pleasure. as he continued to suck on one, his hand moved down further and slipped your panties down your legs.

“shit babygirl, all this for me?” he grinned at your wetness, causing you to blush into the pillow beside you. “nuh-uh, i wanna see you while i fuck you on my fingers.” without warning, he shoved one of his thick fingers into your hole. shit, this was enough to get you off. “toji~ hahh~” you pawed at his chest, moaning loudly. “keep making those pretty lil noises, honey”

he roughly jammed his fingers in and out of your hole, sinful noises filling the bedroom. he rubbed your clit harshly, and tears began to pool at your eyes. “hnnng! t-toji, i’m c-cumming~” his pace didn’t slow. “on my fingers, like a good girl, come on you can do it”

you cum all over his fingers, coating them in a white slick. he brings the fingers up to his mouth and sucks at them. “shit doll, i need to get a better taste of you” he licked his lips and began sloppily eating you out. the pleasure was so immense, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. this man was eating you out like it was his last meal, tongue hitting all the right spots perfectly. you felt your second orgasm forming. as you began to moan louder and louder, toji backed away from your pussy. you whimpered at the loss of pleasure, looking at him to see him fidgeting with his pants.

he let his cock spring free from his pants, and your face went white. it was like nothing you’d ever seen before, he was huge. you were kinda expecting it based off of his build in general but holy shit.

“you gonna keep staring or let me fuck you?” he asked playfully, laughing at your shocked expression.

you began to back up a little into the bed and muttered “‘m scared…”

“oh darling, there’s nothing to be scared of~ let me take care of y’a, alright?” he sat against the headboard of the bed and carried you into his lap. he kissed you again, and you began to become less scared.

you nodded meekly, and he gave you that sleezy grin of his. you could not get enough of this man. “i’ll go slow hun’, don’t wanna hurt you…” he lined up at your entrance and slowly began lowering you onto his dick. you began letting out whimpers and moans of pain, he was so big. “t-toji! hah~~ so f-full…~” you panted and tightened harshly around him. he groaned in pleasure “keep squeezing me like that darlin’ holy fuck.” you were now completely engulfing toji, legs shaking from the pleasure and arms around his neck, scratching at his back. tears formed in your eyes as your whimpers grew louder. “d-daddy, i-it hurts~”

“you’re okay, kid.” he continued groaning as he slowly began bouncing you up and down on his dick. “fuck, you feel so good princess~” you moaned and squeezed your eyes shut as his pace quickened. however, it was starting to feel a lot better. the pleasure was like nothing you had ever encounter “f-fuck toji~ ‘m close!!” he continued to bounce you up and down as his grip against your hips tightened and his pace quickened. “already princess? you can hang on a lil’ - fuck - longer for daddy.” he let out low moans in your eyes which sent butterflies straight down to your pussy. you whimpered directly in his ear as you fought back your orgasm for him. “toji p-please~” he looked into your eyes “come on my cock princess~ gonna fill you up so good, you want daddy’s cum? yeah you want it?” he chuckled at you, but you didn’t care. nothing mattered to you, you needed a release. your moans loudened as you came all over his dick, a white slick glistening on his abs. “fuck, ah~” toji moaned lowly as he came inside you. you fell onto his chest, so mind-fucked.

“t-that was…” you panted, out of breath against his chest. “i’d say the same, princess” he winked at you and smiled. “let’s get you cleaned up, k?”

GUYS this is my first time writing anything like this i’m sorry if it’s very bad. also send me requests if you want!