#WHY AM I A BLUE LADY ON TWITCH

[hardofhearingmagi]

Holy Fuck it's Been A Minute

I have NO idea if any of the OGs are still up and running around. If you are: Hell yeah, good to see you.

But I feel like I should poke my head in and go:

It's been a very long 5 years.

If you've followed my personal (which, I'll be honest is also quite dead these days AND YOU WILL FIND OUT WHY, PROMMY.) you already know what's gone down.

2020 took a lot from a lot of people. For me, it took my father. But it wasn't from The Big C. It was from Cancer (The...other...Big C I guess????). It sent me into a tailspin for a very long time. I spent so long grieving and withdrawing and isolating that I was no longer myself.

I spent a long, long time suffering and stumbling my way through puddle after puddle of grief. I swung between numbness and crippling depression. I still struggle with this, but it's not nearly as bad as it used to be.

I've since quite my job at the Mart of Wal, and have been free for 2 and a half years. I couldn't spend the rest of my life working in a place that crushed my soul.

I started streaming as a Vtuber as a hobby, to try and cope with my pain and give me a hobby outside of art. It...went better than expected, and it's kind of sort of my job now. You can find that here, if you'd like to reconnect. And here, if you've migrated to the Definitely-Not-X-Why-The-Fuck-Did-We-Do-This-Elon-God-Dammit Site. It takes a lot of time, and pain. But it's fulfilling work, I enjoy entertaining for the internet by being a cartoon on the internet. It feels like it was something I was meant to do. I am content.

I have made so many friends and found family through this. I have reconnected with people I thought I lost way back when.

I am happier than I have been in a very long time.

Ophi still exists! In fact: She's a moth, and a cat girl. And that's just fine. (I will post pics if asked for. Of course.)

But, yeah. I hope you're all doing well- that is if any of you are still out there. I could be talking to an empty room with a dusty water cooler in the corner.

[osachiyo]

ᘎᘏ jealous? yeah, I am・ gojo satoru ─── f!reader . jealous toru . approx 1.4k+

ᘎᘏ cw . n/sfw, jealousy, hair pulling, cunniligus, so much dirty talk, light bondage, edging, degradation, mean mean mean!satoru :(, brat!reader, pussy slapping, he spits like once in your mouth, FERAL toru, mentions of toji being divorced etc . mdni

ᘎᘏ a/n . so sorry to that anon who requested this 😭 it took me a while to finish this and the ending was pretty rushed, but I hope u still manage to enjoy </3 not proofread so apologies in advance if there's any errors!

Satoru stared intently at you from across the bar, drink long forgotten as his jaw clenches at the sight of you giggling with Toji fucking Fushiguro of all people. The way you complimented his impressive build, ran your hands up and down his arms and fuck, the way you practically pushed your tits against him— all of it made his right eye twitch with annoyance. What the hell were you thinking?

Unfortunately for you, it wasn't long before satoru finally decides that he had enough of your bullshit— strutting over to the both of you before grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you close to him, ignoring the gasp and yelp you let out. He stood tall, towering over you and the scarred man, who only smirked sleazily in response. "Woah there, boy. ya gotta be more gentle with your lady there," he grinned deviously, making your boyfriend glower down at him, blue eyes glowing dangerously in the dim light of the bar before basically dragging you through the packed crowd and out the building. Even going as far as childishly mocking the raven haired man on the way, "woah there, boy, you gotta be careful with your lady blah blah blah," he rolled his eyes before sticking his tongue out towards the man, who had his back turned to the both of you. "Hah, fuckin' muscle brained gorilla— talkin' like his wife didn't divorce his ass," Satoru scoffed, the veins on his forehead almost popping out.

"Toru! You shouldn't call him tha—" you were quickly shut up when his eyes finally met yours, he looked borderline crazed— blue eyes that were once clear as the sky, now had turned into a much darker shade dangerous gaze screaming at you to shut the fuck up.

And you did, not wanting to anger him even further. But you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together in need— a smug smile almost tugging at your glossy lips, holy fuck that actually worked.

The ride home was eerily silent, the only noise being the loud thumping of your heart as you glanced at Satoru's side view occasionally— fuck, he looked so sexy. Jaw muscles clenched tightly, veins bulging against his skin, eyes narrowed and holding a dangerous glint of jealousy in them— fixated on the road ahead.

You gasped when Satoru slid a hand over to your side, large hand splaying on your thigh before gripping onto it tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He only ignored the whine that escaped your lips, now driving with one hand as he he sped through the empty streets.

You two eventually arrived back home— shit, your feet were absolutely killing you. You were busy taking off your high heels when you heard the front door slam closed, a shadow engulfing you from behind— Satoru.

"Toru wha—" "On your knees. Right now." You didn't get to finish your sentence before getting cut off by your boyfriend, his usually silky voice now gruff and an octave lower— fuck, it made you scared for what's to come but excited at the same time.

It wouldn't hurt if you pushed him a little bit further, would it?

"What? And why would I do that?" You turned around to face him, hands on your hips as you boldly eyed him up and down.

"Oh, sweetheart you know exaaactly why you should listen to me right now. I fucking promise you, you don't wanna make this worse on yourself." He spoke slowly in a low tone, as if he was scolding a child right now.

You had the sheer audacity to roll your eyes at him with a grin, "oh yeah? Then do your worst, Sa-to-ru."

That was it. You had sealed your fate— he was going to fucking break you and won't stop until he's satisfied.

"Ouh— fuuck, 'Toru—!" You threw your head back onto the pillows, legs pushed back and knees against your chest as Satoru was nose deep in your cunt— eating you out like your pussy was his last meal on earth. He had you tied to the bedpost, completely unable to touch him and render you useless.

A calloused palm harshly smacked against your ass— making you yelp and flail against the restraints. Your back arched off the bed every time Satoru hit that one spot inside of your gooey walls, pointy nose bumping against your clit as he swiped his tongue over your hole. Thumbs spreading apart your lips for him as he spit on your cunt before slurping it back up— he was fucking nasty with it.

Your eyes widened as a wail left your lips when Satoru bit on your clit softly before slipping his tongue inside of you— looking up at you with those blues as you felt your eyes rolling back slightly. He clicked his tongue, pulling away right as you were about to cum all over his face— you'd be stupid to think he would give you the satisfaction of cumming yet. No, he wanted you to suffer.

You whined and tried to kick your legs, but your attempt was fruitless as Satoru was much, much stronger than you— firmly holding the back of your thighs as he tsked, rolling his eyes at your desperation. "Should've just gagged you, huh? Shut that smart lil' mouth of yours, ain't that right?" He scoffed, before cracking a hand down to your cunt— smacking your pussy. "Fu—ck! 'yer s'mean! Too— ugh— mean!" You sobbed, mascara running down and leaving streaks of makeup on your pretty face— lipstick smudged and the sight did nothing but made Satoru's cock twitch in his pants.

He laughed cruelly, running a hand through his snowy locks before grinning— it wasn't a genuine grin, nor was it friendly. Something about it was...crazed, sinister if you will.

"Awww, am I being too mean for my 'pwetty lil' pwincess?" He mocked your pout, thumb rubbing small circles on your swollen clit before smacking it harder, "then you should've thought about that before whoring yourself out to that fuckin' deadbeat, huh?" He growled out, every word punctuated by a swift but harsh slap to your pussy, making you jolt and cry out with each hit.

"Yeahhh? You say you wan' me to stop but— hah, look at this soaked fuckin' pussy, hm?" He showed you his fingers, your slick dripping down them and sticking to each digit like little webs. The sight only made your clench your thighs in humiliation, and he noticed. "Yeah, yer' such a fucking whore, huh? You wanted this didn't you?" He growled, yanking you by the hair with his clean hand before slipping his slick soaked fingers into your mouth and shoving them as deep as possible. "Mmph—!" You thrashed around, choking and gagging on his long fingers as a fresh wave of tears gathered in your lash line.

"Wanted me to fuck you up, yeah? Wanted me to fuck this slutty cunt up? Yeahhh, baby take it— god, you look so good choking 'round my fingers, don't you?"

His words were nasty, his own cock starting to drip and ache in his boxers and eventually he got too impatient to torment you any longer.

He eventually pulled his fingers out of your mouth, letting go of your hair before parting your legs and spitting directly into your mouth— a fat glob of spit landing directly on your tongue and you swore you could feel your cunt gushing out even more, if it was possible.

You felt him untying you from the bedpost, finally letting your hands free. God, the marks felt like they were burned into your skin— clearly he wasn't thinking straight when he tied you, but that was fine— it was the last thing on your mind, really. "On your hands and knees, slut." You obeyed the order almost immediately, turning around to face the bedpost before sticking your ass out to Satoru', who only watched you with scrutinizing eyes.

"Oh yeahh— yer' fuckin' soaked, huh? Pretty pussy so wet f'me?" He groaned, lining his pulsating cock with your entrance before letting out a "tsk" and shoving your head into the pillow beneath— before slamming into you without any warning.

Your eyes widened, a gurgled moan leaving your messy lips from the sheer stretch of his cock— you had him plenty times before but each time feels like the first time. "Fuuu—ck!! S'biigg—!" You squealed, feeling Satoru's cock drag through your velvety walls, pulling away until only the tip remained inside— before slamming his way back into you.

"Oh yeah? 'Toru's cock too big for this— ah!— tiny f-fuckin' pussy?" He moaned, fingers entangling themselves back into your hair before pulling you up by it— breath hot against your ear as his cock bullied your cervix— "Too. Fuckin'. Bad." Every word was punctuated by a brutal thrust of his hips against your ass— the his other hand reaching blindly to swipe and lightly slap your clit— " 'Cause I'mma pound my pussy til' I'm done and you won't cum til' I say so."

©sachiyoh ─ do not copy/translate/repost any of my works under any circumstances.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, POV shifts!, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, toxic masculinity, typos, etc.

A/N: YAY WE ACTUALLY FINISHED A SERIES HAHHAH lol. thank you so much to everyone who read safe keeping on here <3 im so luv all of you !! i will be continuing this so HIHHH look forward to it ig 😋 [originally posted on ao3] | [continuation fic on ao3] | [continuation on tumblr]

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1 @thestrals-and-firewiskey

We are greeted by a group of men when we arrive at the Alistair dwelling.

Sandor helps me dismount my horse. I thank him, then the stable boy, who takes our rides. Sandor ushers me in and we hand our coats to the servants by the door.

My husband scrutinizes the place, a grave expression on his features as he takes in the halls that were decorated with streamers. As we get deeper into the home, I grab Sandor's arm and carefully word, "remember why we're here."

He turns to me and raises a brow, "and why are we here, darling wife?"

I cannot help the way I react to his words, his term of endearment. I know it is condescending, but my stomach tumbles at the sound of it either way. I look forward, unable to keep his gaze, "we're here to pay out respects to a man that extended generosity to us."

Sandor notices the way my face twitches. He sighs and turns away, "I will not kill the pretty boy. Do not be so upset."

"I'm not upset," I turn to him.

He scoffs under his breath, "what's with the face then?"

"What face?"

"A face fairest in the land, many would say."

Sandor and I stop in our tracks.

My brows raise and I break into a chuckle of disbelief and surprise. The man who had spoken smirks as I greet him, "Lord Baelish."

Sandor feels his blood boil when the Littlefinger bows and reaches out a hand. He tightens his grip on me.

I turn to Sandor, noticing how darkly he was eyeing Petyr, and decide to let out a laugh to ease the tension, "there be no need for such formalities, Petyr."

Petyr straightens up, lowering his hand, maintaining his smirk.

Sandor's lips twitch as he grumbles slowly himself, "Petyr."

"I am glad we're past that, my dear," Petyr says before Sandor tugs me by the arm behind him as he steps forward.

The shorter man looks up and the taller one snorts. I manage to pull my arm away, coming in between them. I nervously laugh and elbow Sandor back, not that it does anything, "if you'll excuse us, we must speak to the man on the hour."

Petyr looks back at me, unfazed and still smirking, "of course. But I do I hope, for your sake, you spare me a moment after. I have something rather important to talk to you about."

"About what?!" Sandor bark. I feel the tension of his form when he presses nearer, flush against my back, to impose upon the lord.

Lord Baelish doesn't spare the Hound a glance, "why, about the monsters plaguing your ancestral home." 

My lips part.

The blue eyed man raises a brow, "you've long wished to be safe from this peril, yes?" he bows, "I believe I have a solution for you."

Before I could even think, Petyr straightens up and smirks as he walks away.

I hear the Hound whisper behind me, "I'll fucking kill him instead."

Before I could respond, a voice calls out to me. I turn and see it is Lord Alistair, making his way over.

He jogs up to me with an excited expression and reaches out a hand. I smile back at him and take it out of instinct. When he is close enough, Cedric kisses my knuckles.

The Hound did not realize this had happened up until he tore his gaze from damned Littlefinger. When he notices Alistair, he nearly breaks his teeth from clenching his jaw so tight.

"I am happy to see you, my lady," Cedric nods with a lopsided smile.

Before the Hound can react, the pretty boy is speaking again.

"And you, my lord," he nods to Sandor.

"I don't share the sentiment," the Hound growls through a strangled breath.

Cedric laughs. He places a hand on his chest as he does, then motions, "forgive me. You must be famished from your travels," he looks to his right then back to us, "please. My servants have prepared my favorite dishes. Help yourself and make merry."

"I'll be merry if I fuc--

"THANK YOU, MY LORD!" I cut off with a massive grin. I curtsy and chuckle, mustering all the sincerity I had, praying it overshadowed my jitters, "may you always be so generous and joyous on your nameday."

Cedric chuckles and waves me off, "please. Spare me the formalities. I pray you go and eat with your husband before he kills someone."

Lord Alistair is the only one that laughs at the joke. A few delayed seconds later, I manage to laugh with him, forcing down my agitation.

Sandor doesn't budge the first time I tug on his arm. He follows after the fourth. He eyes Cedric as we walk away, but the said man is already preoccupied with another guest to notice.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I whimper under my breath as I quite literally run after the buzzing Hound.

Sandor makes his way down the hall in a break neck speed, at least for me. I have to catch my breath when we enter the weapons room. I heave and look around the foreign place, eyeing the axes, the arrows, the swords, and the armor displayed all over.

"Your pretty boy has good taste," Sandor slurs as he grabs a sword mounted on the wall, knocking over a few others as he did.

I cringe at the clank of steel against ground and step back when Sandor begins to wave his blade around. I mumble, "he's not my pretty boy."

Sandor continues to swing the sword. I pull my head back in agitation.

He then picks up the fallen swords but cannot manage to put them back in their place without moving shakily, and dropping a few.

I panic and press my back against the wall, "my love, this is a horrible idea!"

Sandor stops and turns to me, "how is it horrible? Lord Alistair wanted a sword fight with me, and that's what he's gonna get. He chose this nameday gift, not I."

I watch as he finally manages to put away the swords.

"You were there, my jittery bride."

I straighten up and slowly walk towards him with my palms cautiously raised. Sandor is perfectly still when I come close. I release a sigh of relief when I manage to grab his arms, "please listen. I was also there when you downed three ewers of wine, puppy."

He leans down.

I clench my jaw.

I can feel his breath, smell the alcohol in it, as he mutters, "I'm not a lightweight."

I gasp when he comes low enough to kiss my neck.

My skin pricks when he whispers hotly, "and I'm not a puppy."

My heart is racing when he straightens up. He does so in a rather staggering manner, telling of the effects of his alcohol consumption.

"You're drunk."

"Am not," he rebuts.

I scowl at him, "you're a drunk puppy, my dear."

He smiles, "I thought I was your love?"

My stomach churns.

Sandor purses his lips when I do not respond.

I feel my face prick with heat, "would you listen to me if you knew that I loved you?"

He chuckles, turns his back on me, and heads for the door, "well, do ya?"

I feel like vomiting. I whisper under my breath, "I do."

He reaches for the knob and opens the door, "nice try, beautiful," he reaches a hand out, "come. Maybe your pretty boy will manage to ki-"

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING HIM THAT!" I snap and storm over to him. "Lord Alistair is NOT my pretty boy! He's not mine and will never be!" I feel my blood boil and my eyes begin to fog, "and stop calling me names!"

He pulls his chin back. His face hardens. He opens his mouth to speak but beat him to it before he can say a word.

"Stop mocking me! Stop calling me pretty squirrel! Stop calling me beautiful! It's driving me mad!"

"I'm not mocking you," he speaks lowly, "why would I mock-"

"Well, whatever it is, it needs to come to an end," I point at him, "now let's get this over with. I want to go home."

I storm off and head outside.

I make my way to the back of the Alistair dwelling, which had a large field where the sword fighting will be held.

I stand by the crowd of people and sigh through my nostrils. I watch as Lord Alistair does tricks with his sword, enticing the crowd to laugh and cheer for him.

I feel out of place in my spot because I didn't know anyone else, and because was not at all entertained by the spectacle. All I thought of was how badly I wished this to be over. Damn my drunken husband for agreeing to this.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I turn over and find the smile of Lord Baelish. I release another sigh, "please. Not anymore, Petyr."

Petyr chuckles and shrugs, "I've barely said a word, my dear."

His term of endearment triggers my vexation. I cannot help the way I roll my eyes at him.

He laughs harder, "what darling reaction."

I move away from him.

He steps closer, "did you know there are necromancers in Volantis?"

I glare at him just to look away again.

He gives me a smirk, "they are learned of tar monsters who enjoy eating village folk."

I turn back to him.

He nudges me with his elbow and turns front, "I've put in good word for you. All you have to do is take a ship to Essos. A witch there will get rid of your problems for you at a fair price."

"Hmm," I raise a brow, "oh, undoubtedly. It clearly is that simple."

Petyr turns to me, "it certainly is. Once the woodland monsters are gone, you'll be able to hunt and gather timber from the forest again," he nods his head, "and so will I."

Aha. I purse my lips and debate his words for a moment.

"And I trust you will allow me to fish in the Sterling River as well."

I look forward when the crowd cheers. I see before me, Lord Clegane and Lord Alistair, circling each other, the latter laughing in excitement, the former blank faced and stern. I turn back to Petyr, "very well."

He nods once more.

I look straight again.

"Perhaps a trip to Volantis is exactly what the loving couple need."

I roll my eyes at him.

Sandor and Cedric begin to tussle. The sound of steel biting steel fills the air. Cedric is an eager opponent, pressing forward every chance he gets. Sandor is relaxed and playing the defensive.

This continues for a while, metal clashing, boots skidding, voices grunting, and it was a rather showy match, at least on Cedric's end. Sandor is barely trying, I could tell. He must be conserving his energy. I've seen the way he's trained with the boys in Brown Wood. He's definitely trying to tire Cedric out.

"This is going to be a long match," Petyr whispers to me.

I turn to him and sigh, "a very long one."

Sandor catches this and feels his lips twitch. He turns back to Cedric.

I gasp when Cedric manages to disarm Sandor. The crowds gasp as well, and Cedric too seems surprised.

Sandor shakes his head, " 'm too fucking drunk for this."

Cedric straightens from his defensive stance.

Sandor nods, "well met."

Lord Alistair nods back, smiles, and turns about to bask in his victory.

As he bows to his guests, the Hound makes a beeline towards me. I watch as he comes close, my heart slowly speeds.

He grabs my arm, "we're leaving."

"Oh!" Cedric calls and gestures our way "a round of applause for the Hound."

The guests turn and cheer for him.

Sandor pulls me to his side.

"Come now," Petyr smirks, "won't you even try to best Lord Alistair in another round?"

Sandor leans down towards Lord Baelish and growls, "fuck off."

With that, I am dragged away.

"Sandor."

The Hound's horse continues treading in front of me.

"Sandor."

The Hound still does not stop, turn, or respond.

"Sandor!" I say louder.

Still nothing. 

I make the horse I was riding gallop to his side. He had not spoken to me the whole way back, not when we got on our horses, not when we stopped at an inn for the night, not when we started our journey, and not now that we near the gates of Brown Wood.

"Have you chosen never to speak to me again?" I quip, tightening my grip on my reins. When he looks the opposite direction from me, I scoff and roll my eyes, "should it not be I that never speaks to you, Hound? You've been nothing but insufferable the entire time we were at the feast!"

Sandor still does not budge.

I look forward and catch sight of Brown Wood. I give my horrible husband one last glare before growling and galloping away.

Sandor watches this. He does no effort to follow after.

When I get to the gates, I am immediately greeted by many servants. Polly, in particular, excitedly tells me he's taught the puppies tricks, and quickly leads my horse away after I dismount, keen to tell me more about it.

Lucy, though happy to see me, raised a brow at my missing chaperone, "did you lose your Hound, milady?"

I roll my eyes, "do not speak to me of that beast."

Lucy is bewildered.

I sigh and slump forward, regretting the harshness of my words. I shake my head, "have you prepared a bath for me?"

She knits her brows and nods slowly, "....did something happen at the feast?"

"Of course something happened," I muttered, "the gods are truly testing me." I brush Lucy's arm, "I will tell you more of it later. For now, I need a warm bath."

Lucy nods again and watches me walk off.

Before Polly could follow after, Lucy hooks her fingers into his collar, holding him back. The boy makes a choking sound, stops and turns, staring at Lucy.

"Our lady will not be bothered," she says.

"But the puppies!"

"Later," she pulls her hand away, "go finish your chores if you still have some, boy."

Polly makes a face and grumbles, though he does listen.

Just then, Lucy turns and sees the Hound walking towards the gates, leading his stead by the reins. She waits for him to enter, and the moment he does, she runs her mouth.

"Are ye not tired of playing this game?"

The Hound squints but spares Lucy no glance. He heads for the stables and undoes the ties on his horse.

Lucy flares as she follows after him, "can't you just do us all a favor and stop?"

"I'm not in the mood for nagging, wench."

"Then admit it!"

"Fuckin' what?!" he glares at her.

"That you're mad about your wife!" Lucy snaps.

Sandor stills.

"That you would die for her! That you're upset she wanted to go to another lord's nameday celebration!"

He removes his horse's saddle, "that was a formality."

"YOU'RE A FUCKIN' FOOL!"

Sandor whips his head to her.

"And a coward," Lucy raises a finger.

The Hound chucks the undone saddle to the side and steps forward. He looks down at Lucy, but she is unbothered and unafraid. He is shocked when she shoves him. He topples back.

"She's only ever wanted your love, you thickheaded oaf! Don't you see how hard she tries to please ya?!"

"Please me?" Sandor scoffs, taking another step forward.

"YES!" Lucy shouts, "she wants to be your perfect bride but you know nothing but cruelty. You repay 'er with bitterness."

The Hound feels his mouth sour.

"And puppies."

Sandor watches her wipe her face.

"Because you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be, milord," Lucy says with frustration.

Sandor feels like the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

"I've caught you when you think no one's looking," she speaks softly, "you love her."

Sandor feels his body burn.

"She loves you."

"She d-"

"Fix it before it gets worse. I beg," she sighs.

The Hound is stunned as the maid walks off.

When Polly spots him, the boy unknowingly grates his nerves as he leads the puppies over and shows all the tricks he's taught them. It wasn't much, in all honesty, just a 'stop' and a 'come here', but the three pups did them well.

Sandor couldn't be impressed, he was far too out of it to be anything but queasy.

He tells Polly he's tired and heads to the bedroom. Polly tells him he wants to show Lady Clegane the tricks before they sleep. He doesn't answer the boy. 

Sandor is both disappointed and relieved to find the room empty. His head is heavy as he changes. He feels like he'd sink to the bottom as he goes to bed.

The Hound had been pacing around when I got to the bedroom. He froze when I entered and awkwardly walked back as I headed for the bed.

I didn't speak a word as I went under the covers and laid down. I eyed him as he sat on the edge on the other side, back turned to me. I burn holes into his back with my glare.

It takes a few seconds of him rubbing his lap and him sighing loudly before he breaks his silence.

"I..." he trails off.

I shift in my spot to look at him.

He straightens, "I didn't like the fact that pret-" he cuts himself off and sighs, "that Lord Alistair and Lord Baelish were all over you."

I can't help but scoff, "and you've decided not to speak to me because of some two men's doing?"

"I DIDN'T want to fight," he blurts loudly then softly. 

I watch as he slouches and moves on his side to bring himself under the sheets. He sighs as he covers himself and speaks without looking at me, "I don't like fighting you."

I purse my lips at the thought. His words conflict me. I find it aggravating to hear when it felt like he liked the opposite. A side of me is also unwilling to believe it because it was too hard to believe.

The part of me that was still angry at him for being so petty wants to fight back with equal pettiness. But an even larger part of me felt too exhausted and defeated to argue.

"And yet you always do," I speak plainly as I turn my back on him and fluff my pillow. I take in a deep breath while bringing the sheets over my shoulder. I lay down, facing away from him.

I knew he wouldn't have anything to say to that truth, and yet I take a moment to listen in on him. He doesn't speak nor move at all.

I close my eyes, "go to sleep, husband. It's been a long day."

"Aren't you upset with me? I don't want you to sleep upset with me."

My eyes open. My stomach churns. Did he actually care? My lips part but I can't find myself to speak.

"I didn't speak to you because I know what I'd've done if I did."

I take in a sharp breath and give out a broken whisper, "you've done worse."

Sandor lets out an airy chuckle. It doesn't sound amused at all though.

He doesn't respond anymore. Instead, he shifts in his spot and lays down, as far on his end as he could be. He is on side, staring at the dark corner of the room. He musters all his courage, "forgive me, my lady."

My lips part.

Did he just say that?

"What?" 

I am shocked when I hear him repeat, "forgive me."

I roll on my back and look at him. I feel like I'm going to vomit. I think my body was shaking.

I inhale deeply through my nose, "what would you have done?"

He takes a moment to respond, "what?"

My courage flees me as I find the need to repeat myself. I turn my back on him again and clutch my chest. I can hear my heart pounding, "what-... you said you didn't speak to me because you knew what you would have done..." 

I feel Sandor shift behind me.

I gulp and curl up tighter into myself.

I wait for him to act but he does nothing.

I release a deep breath before speaking, "would you... have hurt me?"

My skin pricks when I hear him sigh, "aye."

I feel sick to my stomach. How could he admit that so easily? 

I think of all the worse things he could have done: smack me, shove me, slay me. I feel body begin to grow hot.

Sandor stares at the ceiling then turns to his side. His chest tightens yet he manages to mutter, "I only want to be gentle with you."

I scoff but it sounds strangled because of how tight my throat was. My eyes begin to well up. My broken voice croaks, "how could you say that?!"

The Hound says nothing.

"What?" I scoff, "you hit me then you tend my wounds?"

He doesn't say a word.

I begin to feel my insides burn.

The longest moment passes.

"How did you want to hurt me?" I snap.

He clenches his jaw then chuckles at himself, "I wanted to make you scream my name as I fucked you against a wall."

My heart leaps into my mouth.

The Hound continues, "I wanted all those fuckers to hear, to know what you were mine, that I was the only one who could do that to you, that I was the only one you'd allow to do that."

My blood runs still.

"The things I'd do to you," he mutters, "you'd be disgusted to know them."

My lips quiver as confusion ripples through me. This was the kind of hurt he wanted to inflict?

"But I want to be gentle," he adds, "I really do."

"Is that why you lied about the pups?" I find myself choking out.

Sandor is taken aback. He also hates how apparent the sound of sadness was.

"I know you were the one that found them and brought them home, not Lucy," I whisper.

"Lucy," he sighs, "she loves you so much, that Lucy. And you love her... You'd take a gift from someone you love."

I shake my head, "that's why you lied? You didn't think I would keep them if they were from you?"

"I didn't want to shroud the pups with my being."

"... I can love more people than just Lucy."

I feel him shift behind me.

My heart thunders in my chest.

"One day... maybe I'll be gentle enough for you to love me."

I feel tears rush down my eyes. I move to turn to him, but then his arm comes around me and holds me back.

"Please," his voice breaks, "I can't stand to see you cry or look at me with pity."

My hand comes atop his arm, "Sandor-"

"Can I kiss you?"

My breath catches in my throat.

His heavy breathing makes my entire body burn.

I slowly nod and manage to squeak out a yes.

Sandor immediately sinks his face into my neck and begins to kiss my skin. His lips were hungry and his beard left scratches all over. He snakes his arm tighter around me and pulls me into his chest. My entire body reacts to him, it burns and pricks and pulses. He kisses my cheek; he kisses my tears away.

My belly tumbles when he rubs it. He props himself up on his other arm, "I'll die a happy man to see you love my babe," he trails kisses up my jaw to my ear, "it's more than I'll ever deserve."

I suck in a deep breath and lean into his touch. I press my body flush against his and this elicits a groan from him. He fists my nightgown into his hand and nips my lobe. He draws in deep breaths and sighs against my ear, "I can be gentle. I can be so gentle."

I take his fist and he immediately releases my clothes. His breathing grows more strangled as he shifts behind me. 

I push his hand down and he shudders when it comes in contact with my thighs. I release his hand and bring my leg atop of his. I pull my skirt up and mumble, "gentle."

"Fucking gods," he kisses my shoulder and pulls my gown up. He rubs my thigh a few times then sinks his hand underneath my smallclothes.

He shushes me as I grow rigid against him and kisses my neck some more.

I whimper when he pulls my undergarments down and moves his fingers into my soft spot. He very much so gently touches me until I begin to melt against him. I arch my back and lean into him.

"Good girl," he mutters, "such a good girl. My beautiful girl."

"More please," I heave.

Sandor presses his body against mine, "don't have to tell me twice."

I whine his name when he sinks a finger into me. My toes curl and my hand grabs onto his bicep.

I make a sound when he pushes deeper, and an even throatier one when he adds another finger.

Sandor brushes my hair away with his other hand then sinks his face into the crook of my neck. He peppers kisses on my skin and my body burns all the more because of it. I turn my face to him and move my mouth close to his.

Flames rage inside my belly when our lips meet.

He goes still for a second when I kiss him. It takes a few moments before his lips move against mine. Though his beard was tickling my skin, the exchange was lovely. It was warm. It was right.

I bring the hand I had on his arm up to his cheek. My fingers find their way to his scalp where I begin to tug his hair gently.

We pull away when I yelp at the feel of his hand going back to work. Sandor does not relent his kisses on my cheeks, nose, and eye lids.

"Does it feel good?" he asks in between pecks.

I whimper as I nod.

Sandor sighs and grazes his teeth against my neck, "so good."

I mewl when he begins to pump his fingers faster into me.

"So sweet and soft and beautiful-- so, so beautiful against me."

"Sandor-"

"I want to feel you," he growls under his breath, "want to be inside you," he nips my lobe again, "want to fill you up, give you the babe you want."

I nod and chase after his lips. I kiss him desperately, "please."

It's not long until his fingers are replaced by his cock. We both tense against each other then slowly relax and reconnect our mouths.

I am surprised when I feel his tongue brush against my lips. I squeak when he begins to buck his hips into me at a slow but purposeful pace.

He presses his fingers into my inner thigh, pulling that leg closer towards him. I bring my hand down to his forearm and grip him for dear life. He pushes his chest into my back and breaks our kiss to allow us both a breath.

Sandor maneuvers himself into a better position. He nearly has me sprawled on top of him. He locks his grip on my hips and snaps into me with all that he's got.

He calls my name. He calls me beautiful. He calls me his wife. He tells me he loves me.

It's all too much that my eyes begin to water and my belly begins to tighten.

Though his movements were wild and sharp, and though the sound we were both making were loud and lewd, there was something sacred about it, something sincere.

I nearly sob when I come undone. I cry out his name as I feel intense pleasure crash all over my body. My mind is too misty to take into account that Sandor had been repeating the same three words as he too fell into bliss.

He doesn't immediately stop moving. He only does so when I'm laid back on my side again.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel him shift away from me.

"Don't pull away!" I snap. I grab his arm and wrap it around me, trapping it between my own. I lean back into him, "don't leave me! You keep leaving me."

Sandor, who was just catching his breath, feels like he was winded all over again. He thinks about the discomfort that this position will bring, but he figures sex just leaves people emotional and clingy sometimes.

He kisses my cheek, "we'll stay like this, if that's what you want."

I nod enthusiastically and turn to kiss him.

When I do however, he pulls his face back. It makes me go rigid.

It takes a second for Sandor to realize what he did. He is now overly conscious of the scar on his face and the damned reflex he has for it. He opens his mouth but he doesn't say anything.

I begin to feel my face burn and yet I'm too stunned to move.

The next moment, we speak at the same time then immediately go silent.

I gulp and turn away from him, bursting out as I did, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to overstep."

"You did nothing wrong." he shakes his head.

"You asked if you could kiss me," I mumble, "I didn't do the same."

"You can do whatever you want with me-"

"Sandor-"

"-I belong to you. I am your hound. That's all I am."

My eyes glass at his words. I feel him kiss my nape. My skin pricks when he rubs his hand down my belly.

He sighs heavily, "... sorry for being so broken."

I screw my eyes shut.

"... you can kiss me... if you really want to."

I nearly break my neck turning it back so quick. I press my face against his and just remain like this for a moment. I brush my nose against his textured skin and recall the time I did the same during our wedding night. He pulled away then, he pulled away now.

"I'm sorry you can't trust me," I whisper.

Sandor doesn't have the time to react to that.

I leave about a hundred kisses on his scar before my neck begins to tire. I knit my brows and whisper again, "don't let me go."

I face front and feel sleepiness catch up with me.

"Good night, Sandor."

I vaguely hear him whisper I love you behind me.

Sandor woke up with sunshine shining down his face. He was more than well-rested. He honestly doesn't remember the last time he slept this good.

He stretches in bed and groans. It takes him three seconds to realize he was alone.

It's almost enough to make him shoot upright in panic. The only reason he doesn't is because he quickly thinks it was fucking stupid of him to feel anything, any sort of panic or worry-- worse, hurt or sadness for waking up alone.

He did that many times over, left her alone-- too many times to count, surely more times than the good night's of sleep he's had.

So, he lays there with a stone-heavy pit of emptiness in the middle of his rib cage. There was nothing else to do with it crushing his chest. No amount of reasoning, of rational explanations that his wife was the lady of Brown Wood, who was always busy, who was always attending many other people, nothing could lift the stone weighing down on his chest.

He feels like he's slowly choking.

The Hound only gets up when he hears the small barks of the pups coming from outside. Somehow the idea of his wife waking up to attend to the dogs made this ordeal bearable.

He heads to the bathroom first and freshens up.

After, he heads to the living area and tenses when a pair of servant girls greet him good morrow. His lips twitch as he grunts and nods at them. The girls perk up and stare at him for a second as they pass. He vaguely hears them mumbling 'did he just greet us back?' as they each head their way.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He should have said good morrow in return. Fuck. 

It probably doesn't matter. He's been ignoring everyone since they've moved here. Why start now?

Well... he was ignoring everyone except Lucy, who vexingly demanded his attention; Daisy, who used to do the same... and his lady.

Sandor opens the front door and steps outside.

His-

"Lady Clegane," Petyr fucking Baelish nods and reaches a hand to his wife.

Sandor is stunned. This wretched, slimy looking Littlefinger-man was up on his stupidly embellished steed, which, mind you, was too big for the fucker, kissing his wife's knuckles a goodbye.

What the fuck was he doing here so fucking early?

Littlefuckingfinger smiles and straightens up as he releases her. His wife waves goodbye.

As she does so, Littlefinger catches sight of Sandor and his smile pulls into a self-satisfied little smirk. He nods his head once to him and fucking rides off. Even fucking Polly waves him goodbye and it makes him want to chase after him and gouge his eyes out.

"Husband."

The Hound averts his gaze.

Sandor's breath is knocked out of his lungs when he sees his wife gleaming at him.

Fuck, she's walking over.

Everything in him is so overwhelmed by her that he nearly steps back.

She holds something in her hands as she gives him a lopsided smile, "you had a good sleep."

He opens his mouth to speak but a lump in his throat stops him. He gulps.

She laughs. She does so with grace, her pretty teeth all bared to him, "I wished to stay with you until you woke, but I could not leave Brown Wood unattended till late in the afternoon."

For a moment, he is in disbelief and doubts it was actually midday. He looks up and sees, indeed, the sun was at its height.

He looks back to her to apologize for sleeping in, but again, his voice is lost to him. By only taking one step towards him, she renders him powerless. She intensifies it by taking his arm and giving him that look, that look of apprehension that was masked in sweetness. It was maddening.

"Will..." she draws a deep breath, "you let me kiss you?"

What the fuck?

Her brows raise. She pulls her hand away, "y-you don't have to."

"Wait-" gods, did he say that aloud? "-no. You can! You can!" he responds with desperation, "you don't even have to ask."

His wife smiles back at him, but it's not the same. 

Gods, he's ruined it again. 

He is surprised when she still leans over and gives his cheek a quick peck.

He barely has time blush as he's turning his head to watch her as she walks past him. She says something about breaking fast and he mutters something incoherent in response.

Sandor doesn't even realizes that he's been made to sit down on the dining table, until one of the pups take his seat before he can.

Where did they even come from?

"Fuck off then," he says, shooing the small thing. It barks loudly and then he realizes it's the loud one, Lilac. He growls, "off, Lilac!"

Lilac makes a smaller sound of protest but has no other choice but to get off the chair when Sandor tips it over.

He quickly sits down and makes a victorious face to the puppies, who continue to bark at him.

He watches as the pups quiet down as his wife comes back holding a bowl of stew and a spoon. His insides tingle when she leans close to him to set it down before him. She then drags a chair and sits next to him.

He takes the spoon.

She smiles at him and rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the table, "eat up."

Sandor releases a breath and does just that, "thank you."

He realizes just how hungry he was at this moment. He begins to pig out.

"Thank you for holding me throughout the night."

The Hound almost gargles his food in his throat trying to muster up a response.

She laughs and touches his arm again, "it's alright. Just eat."

Sandor doesn't have a moment to say that he would hold her until she gets sick of him.

His wife straightens up and pushes a something towards him, a letter, it seems, "Lord Baelish gave this to me."

He nearly chokes as he swallows.

He doesn't like the way his wife smiles when she continues to speak of him, "he's given me a map and letters to aid my passage to Volantis-"

"Volantis?" he sets his spoon down with more force than necessary, "the fuck is in Volantis?"

She straightens up, "remember we met at Lord Alistair's nameday?"

"Fucking Alistair."

She sighs through her nostrils, "Lord Baelish spoke to me then of someone who knows how to get rid of the monsters in the forest."

"Am I not enough for you?" he turns his body to her, "you need to hire some sellsword on the other side of the world to kill those fucks for you?"

He watches her withdraw before his very eyes. She brings her hands together and places them on her lap. She purses her lips into a soft smile before speaking, "there is no one in the world, this side or the other, that I would trust with handling the monsters in battle. But," she sighs, "Lord Baelish didn't speak to me of a sellsword. He spoke of a witch."

"And you fucking trust him?" he quips impatiently, "you'd trust a witch vouched by Littlefinger?"

She sighs again. She no longer finds it in her to pull a smile, "I do-"

"Well, don't."

"-because he'll get something out of it."

The Hound clenches his jaw and rubs his knuckles with his thumbs.

"In return for his help, I would be allowing Petyr to access to our fish, game, and wood."

The Hound sighs heavily, "Petyr.'

She shakes her head and chuckles. She chuckles until she breaks into a genuine laugh, "but matters not. If my lord does not approve then there is nothing more to do."

Sandor's stomach sinks when she stands up.

"I'll go ahead with my errands now," she nods and offers a lopsided smile.

Just before she walks away, Sandor grabs her hand and weakly mutters, "no, please. Please stay."

She laughs softly; she laughs sweetly. She places her palm on his knuckles then takes his hand in both of hers. She kisses the back of his hand and shakes her head, "I am not leaving, my lord, merely going off to do my errands."

The Hound stops her from letting go. He clutches her hands firmly in his larger one. He parts his lips to beg her to stay.

But then, he sees her change. He sees her slip on a mask of a dutiful wife. She is about to smile, about to tell him that if he insists, she will stay, for him. He knew in his bones that she would.

And so he lets her go and looks away in shame. He can't bear to look at her, so he clears his throat and compromises, "I'd like to eat with you later... if you have the time."

It takes a long moment for her to respond. Sandor, whose eyes were stuck to the floor, find the pups were now sleeping under the table.

"I would like that too, my love."

Sandor chuckles drily at the pet name and grabs his spoon. He rather bitterly says, mostly to himself, "you don't have to call me that."

He waits for her to walk away.

She doesn't.

He turns to her when he vaguely hears her mumble something. He waits for her to repeat herself, but she doesn't.

"What was that, pretty squirrel?"

She shakes her head and curtsies, "I said enjoy your food."

He watches her walk off. He wonders what she actually said, because it sure as hell wasn't that. He swirls his stew around idly.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Big News

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You have a surprise for Bucky.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey!” You bounce up to the table. It’s funny how Bucky can look so intent. So gloomy in the midst of the bustling cafe. He sits up as he puts his phone down on the table. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got great news!” 

“Oh?” His brows lower, “well, you’re double sugar frappa-whatever is melting.” 

He points across the table as you sit and roll your eyes. 

“If you tried it, you wouldn’t be making fun of me. They are delicious!” You put your purse in your lap and take a long slurp through the straw. You pop your lips off and let out and ‘ahhhhh’. You smile at him as he gives you that look. 

“I don’t take sugar in my coffee and you barely take coffee in your sugar,” he drones. 

You giggle. He's always so grumpy about the smallest things. 

“News?” He prompts dully. 

“Right,” you wiggle in your seat. “I got you a date!” 

He twitches and tilts his head, “a date?” He gives you a cautious look and shifts in his seat. “Uh...” 

“Yes! This lawyer lady I know. I met her at a trivia night way back and added her on Insta. Well, I saw her post the other day and I was like how did I not think of this before?” 

“Lawyer?” He mutters. “I... you’re setting me up with a stranger?” 

“It’s a blind date. It’s fun. She’s really established and smart and beautiful. Oh my god, she posted this picture of her in a bikini—I could never wear something like that.” You get your phone out and he sighs. 

“Wait, why did you do that?” He grits. 

You look above the screen at him, “well, you said the other day that you get lonely. That’s why you have Alpine, right? And she’s so sweeeeet,” you drag out the word in adoration, “but you need someone you can talk to. Who can talk back.” 

“We talk,” he insists. 

“Yes, but we’re friends. You need someone your own age. Or closer to.” 

“Wait, how old is she?” He wonders. 

“Aha, you’re interested,” you point at him accusatorily. 

“I’m asking questions.” 

“Right, she’s... fifty something? She doesn’t look it. Like you. You don’t look... uh... 1917... carry the one...”  

“Stop that,” he demands. “I know how goddamn old I am.” 

“Ha, yeah, sorry, I...” you scroll through your Insta friends. “Here!” You turn the phone to him and beam a smile in his direction. He glances at it for a split second and shrugs. He sits back and drinks his coffee.

“I’m not really... in that scene,” he says. 

“You should get out there! I mean, you can’t bring Sam and Steve to dinner all the time. You need someone--” 

“Is this what it’s about? Because I showed up at the restaurant?” He asks. 

“No, it’s-- I’m being a friend. You two are so alike and she loves old movies and motorcycles. I could never! I'd fall off or not tie my helmet right,” you chuckle. 

“Dreamy,” he growls. 

“Bucky,” you whine back. “You gotta get out and have some fun.” 

“We have fun,” he counters. 

“We do and that’s awesome—Oh, okay, how about, I got an idea! A double date.” 

“A double—you have... a boyfriend?” He taps the porcelain cup with his metal fingertip. 

“Ha, no way. But I could find someone to come along. Just so you’re not alone. There’s a few guys at the restaurant I’m sure would go for a free meal or I mean I know other cute girls. I’m not picky.” 

He closes his eyes and a line forms between his brows. He pinches his nose and squares his shoulders. “Where the hell did you come up with the idea that I wanted to date?” 

“I...” you sit back and your smile falls. His blue eyes flick open as he drops his hand. The dimple in his cheek ticks. “I’m sorry, I thought it was—I was... trying to be a good friend.” 

He stares at you and the stone slowly eases from his jaw. He looks down and back up. He huffs. 

“I’m sorry, dreamy,” he says, “it’s just been a while for me. Not that I haven’t thought of it, you know? But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He shakes his head and glances around the cafe. “The last time I dance with a dame was a goddamn USO tour in 1945.” 

That hits you like a sixteen-wheeler. You didn’t know that. You didn’t think of it. He’s been in this world for a while and he’s handsome and a superhero! You just though he’d have lots of people interested. Charlize sure seemed excited when you asked. 

“And now you’re looking at me like I’m a loser because I haven’t kissed a gal in 80 years--” 

“No, you’re not a loser. If you are, then I am.” 

“Come on, you don’t gotta--” 

“Really. I never kissed anyone. Not lying.” 

He shakes his head and scoffs, “oh no, you’re not lying to make me feel better.” 

You put on your most sober face, “Bucky, I swear,” your cheeks burn and you put your hands on your neck. “I mean... it would be nice I’m sure but it just never came up.” He looks at you quietly. You squirm. “I know you can hear that I’m telling the truth.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he accepts at last. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, “fine. If you’re going to suffer through it, I will too.” He looks away as his jaw tenses, “if you’re going to keep pulling that puppy dog face, one day, it’s gonna wear off.” 

“Yes! Bucky’s got a date! Bucky’s got a date!” You sing out of tune. 

“Stop,” he snarls and narrows his eyes at you. You wince and giggle.  

“Yay!” You put your hands up in a demure celebration and he tuts. 

“You’re so cheesy,” he sneers. 

“And you’re a party pooper. No moping on date night, got it?” You try to put on a stern face and he squints even harder. Finally, he cracks and gives a chuckle. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he sniffs. “You and tough, don’t go together.” 

[tonixe]

Hey can I pls have upper moons with a goddess storm/ororo Munroe reader? Or a scarlet witch/Wanda Maximoff reader?

♰ ★ 𝖀𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

n.o.t.e.s - OMG YES, I LOVE THIS IDEA!

w.a.r.n - None, doma being a menace, and the reader not reading the room.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - various!Uppermoons x godess!reader

w.c - 675

You slowly opened your eyes to see a man with oddly but bright rainbow eyes staring at you. As you blinked several times before pushing yourself far away from the man.

Before the creepy figure chuckled " She's awake!" his odd monotone voice, made your body shake. As you quickly whipped your hand across your body sending a gust of red magic going towards the unknown man before he quickly dodges the attack.

While you stood up, trying to balance yourself onto the ground. "WHO ARE YOU" you yelled, as you looked at the blonde-haired man, baring your teeth at him. Before you stared around your surroundings, you saw a bunch of people—no demons. Staring at you, "What the fuck" you cursed under your breath, as the demons looked at you curious.

"Where am I" you barked at him, you felt your hands turning warm as your eyes glittered with red color. "You're in the Infinity Castle, thanks to the biwa lady!" he clasped his hands together, giving you a smile. You lowered your hands down. The color of your eyes flickering into their natural color.

"Where's the exit" you muttered, "A-"

"There are no exits" Akaza cut Douma mid-sentence, looking at your pissed-off figure. "What do you mean there are no exits, why am I here!" you yelled, walking to him but stopping mid-way.

"No exits, how the fuck did I get here" you barked, "You were here before any of us" Daki interrupted, you as she looked at you oddly.

She crossed her arms against her chest, she was young but dressed in revealing clothes, "How old are you" you said, pointing at her, "HUH? WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!?" she exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks.

"You look 14, and I don't think kids are supposed wear something like that" you said out, before registering what you said.

"HUH?!?" she yelled before she almost attacked you before her brother grabbed her. You cocked your head at her before you felt a strong aura spawning behind you, you immediately saw the demons bowing down.

Before you turned around to see a man, with black hair and red crimson eyes. His aura was creepy for you, as your body conscious started heating up, feeling your eyes glittering with color.

The unknown man gave you a look, that made you shake to your core. You manage to look at him in the eye, though fear paralyzes you.

Before his body-chilling voice ranged through the infinite castle. "What's the update on the blue spider lily," he said, nobody said anything, the atmosphere was tense.

"I said, what is the update" he yelled out, before someone spoke up, "W-well, Lord Muzan. The location of it is unknown, but I do have some information about" one of them, you guessed demons said. His whole appearance was odd to you, it was a body coming out of a vase, and his eyes and mouth were in opposite places.

"Well, are you going to be an idiot or say it," Muzan said, it was a flashed, that the demon's head was in his hand. Before the he started rambling about the information he had, when he was done, his head was throwing to the ground, as you at the head rolling.

"Since you guys can't find a simple flower, I found something better," Muzan said before he shortly degraded the uppermoons.

"You" you were snapped out of though, as he pointed at you.

"You're going to find it" he said, turning his body towards, shortly all eyes were on you.

"Me?" you pointed at yourself, "what is a spider lily" you questioned, deadpanning. "Huh," Muzan said, "Do you seriously don't know what a blue spider lily is" Muzan said, twitching his eyebrows.

"No.." you said, cocking your head to the side.

"Are you serious right now" he closed his eyes, and put his hand on his nose bridge, in a pissed-off expression.

The upper moons just looked at you incredulously, "So.. could I go home now?" giving him a smile.

[lorrainmorgan]

Serpents at the Library

🔞❤️‍🔥 NSFW // MDNI 🔞❤️‍🔥

⚠️ Ominis x F! reader⚠️ Spicy content ahead.

“So, my dear, you think you've been good? Tell me just how much you believe you deserve what I can give you.” Ominis purred.

The Library's second floor was mostly deserted, save for a lone figure sitting in the farthest cubicle. Ominis was patiently waiting for your arrival. You had agreed to meet after your last afternoon class, but you were already running late. Suddenly, Ominis perked up at the sound of your footsteps drawing closer.

"Hello Ominis, I'm sorry I was late, Professor Binns couldn't stop talking and the lesson just kept going and… I’m sorry" you sat down next to him.

He continued to read his book with his flickering wand, trying to ignore your existence as much as possible, but couldn't help but notice how close to him you’d sat down, almost touching his arm with yours.

You quickly noticed his annoyance. Trying to easen the things between you two, you pulled out of your bag a bag of Berttie Botts and placed it next to him "You can have as many as you want" .

"Thank you, but I don't want any." Ominis turned the book page with his wand. He didn't want to engage in conversation. 

"What have I done to you? Being late for something that was not my fault gives you no right to be rude to me, and you’ve been weird around me lately…why?" You finally spat at him.

The corner of Ominis's mouth twitched upward again. His head tilted to the side and his unseeing eyes glimmered with frustration, drawing you in closer. As he leaned towards you, his hand took hold of yours, sending shivers down your spine rather than offering comfort as intended.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and dangerous as he spoke. His words hung in the air like a warning. "I am not being rude, Y/N."

In response, you reached for a bright blue Berttie Bott bean and slowly brought it up to Ominis' lips. He took it obediently, chewing on it quietly. 

"Then tell me, why are you so angry? It's not because I was late... is it?"

After a moment of hesitation, Ominis nervously cleared his throat and shifted on his seat. The signs of a blush spread across his face, coloring his ears and cheeks a deep shade of red. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, every word dripping with anger and frustration.

"I'm angry... frustrated by the fact that I overheard Sebastian wanting to take you on a date," he admitted, his eyes flashing with jealousy. "He was finally going to declare his love for you." Turning away, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing.

"We've known each other since we were kids. We've grown up together, and you've always been so kind to me," Ominis confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But the truth is, I care about you…" He paused to catch his breath "I wish I didn't have these feelings for you, I wish I had someone else to love. But I-" Suddenly realizing what he had just revealed, Ominis' eyes widened in shock.

Your jaw dropped as you processed his accidental confession.

As soon as the words had escaped his lips, he regretted them. But it was too late to take them back now. "Ever since our childhood days, my feelings for you have grown deeper," he confessed. "I've always imagined kissing you, holding you in my arms and feeling your warmth against mine. I've yearned for more than just friendship with you, but I couldn't act on those desires because of our close bond with Sebastian.”

An electric surge of adrenaline coursed through your body, igniting a desire to kiss Ominis. But you quickly squashed the impulse, reminding yourself that he is holding back and you are a proper lady who must maintain control… Right?

You knew that Ominis was waiting for a sign from you, a green light to act on his own desires. You inched closer to him, until your lips were mere inches apart. As you gazed at the constellation of moles on his cheek, your thoughts raced with the overwhelming urge to press your lips against each one.

Like a magnet to a metal, you rapidly and boldly grabbed Ominis' face in your hands and pulled him towards you. He didn’t resist, he surrendered willingly, eagerly meeting your lips as you both gave into the intense craving that had consumed you both. 

The taste of your sweetness burned his tongue . He didn't hesitate any longer, and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He kissed you deeply, passionately, and with a hunger that had been building inside him for years. 

As your tongues intertwined, he felt the heat between you grow stronger. The kiss was intense, and filled with desire and longing. When he broke away from it, he put your bags and other textbooks on the side of the cubicle, blocking the view from possible and unwanted prying eyes. 

A grin spread across his lips as he leaned in to kiss you. The kisses grew more intense and demanding, with a roughness that made you almost dizzy. 

He held you tight against him, the heat of his body enveloping yours.

Without breaking the kiss, you rose from your seat and straddled Ominis' lap, your legs embracing him. The chair creaked under the weight of two students entwined with each other. It was scandalous, doing this in the middle of the day, in the quiet library where anyone could walk in at any moment. But the danger only heightened the thrill for both of you.

The primal urge to claim you, to mark your body as his own, overtook Ominis. With a slow movement, he slid his hand down under your gray skirt and firmly cupped your ass. A low growl escaped him as he lifted you slightly and placed you on the wooden cubicle desk table in front of him. 

Your bodies rubbed together, and pressed against each other while he bit down on your lower lip, gently sucking on it as his hips ground against yours. His erection grew harder with each movement, the intensity almost too much for him to handle. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he left a trail of small pink bruises with each kiss. 

Ominis took your right hand, guiding it to the center of his pants where the bulge of his arousal strained against the fabric. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered for you to feel him, to feel his size and understand the depth of his desire for you. The heat between your bodies intensified as you explored his length, sending sparks of pleasure through both of you.

“You see what you do to me?” Ominis growled, his now dark blue blind eyes smoldering with desire. "I can barely focus on anything else. I've even skipped classes just to relieve myself because of you." 

His hand trailed down your body, finding its way to your nipples which were already stiff and pressing against the fabric of your clothes. A low moan escaped from your lips as he teased and squeezed them between his fingers. Every nerve end tingled with need in your body. 

Ominis could feel himself growing harder and harder beneath your touch, the ache in his loins becoming almost unbearable and painful. He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted you right there, in the library, in that small wooden cubicle, in the middle of the day. Nothing else mattered except for fulfilling his desires with you.

With a sense of urgency, you swiftly unzipped his elegant pants and undid the button. Your fingers eagerly searched within his trousers, freeing his hard member from its confines. It stood tall and proud before you, like a monument to desire. 

His skin was as smooth as polished marble, flawless and pale, devoid of any hair. In one hand, he held a flickering wand, ready to warn of any intruders, while the other guided your hand up and down his length. 

As the rhythm between you grew steady, he reached for the buttons of your shirt. You quickly assisted in removing it, unable to wait any longer. Omnis could feel your desire for him, and he couldn't resist you either. As he pulled off your shirt, followed by your laced bra, he traced his fingertips over the delicate fabric. The texture felt exquisite to his touch. 

"Do you always wear such delicate lace bras, Y/N?" Ominis teased as his hands traced over the curves of your perfect breasts, causing them to rise and fall with each agitated breath. 

He pressed soft kisses as he unclipped the last piece of clothing covering your upper body. Ominis took his time, lavishing attention on both breasts equally, determined to give them the love and pleasure they deserved. His lips latched onto your hard pink nipples, suckling and nipping at them until he heard your soft moans echoing in his ears. 

"Not so loud, my dear. Your neediness is showing itself all of a sudden," Ominis said in a teasing tone. 

Your inner thighs pressed against his cock, creating delicious friction that made you moan even louder. Ominis' hand covered your mouth, muffling the sound as he continued to drive you wild with desire.

“Ominis I’ve been good… please” Your words were desperate and incoherent, barely making sense as they spilled out of your mouth.

Ominis joined in your game as soon as you gave him that green light. He pulled your skirt all the way up, exposing your beautiful skin to him.

“So, my dear, you think you've been good? Tell me just how much you believe you deserve what I can give you.” Ominis purred.

Ominis' hands, rough yet gentle, explored the soft skin of your inner thighs with a sense of urgency.  His unseeing eyes were locked onto your lips, and you couldn't help but grab him by his necktie and bite his lip in punishment for making you suffer. 

"I need you" you pleaded with desperation in your voice. "Please... I deserve it. I'm sorry I was late..." You knew you sounded pathetic, but at this moment, you didn't care. And Ominis loved it - every moan, every plea, every incoherent sentence that fell from your lips. 

His hand traveled lower and reached your white, soaked cotton panties. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and he wanted nothing more than to claim it for himself. 

He gently pulled the bottom of your panties aside, exposing the delicate folds of your womanhood. The pale pink flesh glistened with your arousal, beckoning him closer. With his index finger, he traced the outline of your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your parted lips. Then, with a wicked grin, he lowered his head and tasted the sweet nectar that flowed from your entrance, putting one of your legs on his shoulder.

"You taste divine," he purred against your sensitive skin. "But I have a feeling you already know that."

You couldn't deny it as he continued to explore and tease you with his tongue. And when he finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting more, he spoke again while circling your sweet spot. 

"I've heard you at night, darling. In your dorm room, alone with your thoughts and desires. I used to think you were pleasuring yourself while thinking of Sebastian, but now I wonder...who were you really thinking of?"

Your heart raced at his words, and before you could answer, he pressed his hard length against your slick entrance. You couldn't help but twitch in anticipation.

“Well, darling?. Who were you thinking of?” He wanted to hear his name falling from your lips, to know that you desired him as much as he desired you. 

Your dizzy head could only manage to cry a single word.

“ You.” 

Ominis pushed himself inside you, and he felt your walls clamp down around him at his abrupt move. He gently slid in and out, and he heard the moans leaving your chest. He couldn't believe how good you felt, and he couldn't wait to make you scream his name. He kissed you deeply, and he started to move faster. He could feel his balls slapping against your thighs.

Ominis picked up his pace, and he felt your hips moving against him. He could feel the wetness on his cock, and he felt it slide in and out of your body. He kissed you deeply, and he felt your hands grasping onto his back.

You almost felt guilty for how good Ominis' cock felt inside of you. How he moved, how his fingers traced every inch of your back, of your breasts, of your sex. 

"O-Ominis, Om-" You cried in his ear, almost reaching your climax. His handjob and the rhythm he had was the perfect equation you need to reach your orgasm. 

His movements became more urgent, his body pulsing with pleasure as he neared climax. 

Ominis could feel his balls tighten, the sensation intensifying with each thrust. A low growl escaped his lips as he released himself inside of you. He felt his hot liquid pouring out of him. With a satisfied low moan, he pulled out of you, feeling his slick cock drip onto the floor. He knew there would be a mess to clean up later, but at that moment, he didn't care. 

Despite everything they had just done, he was still hard and eager for more. Ignoring your need to catch your breath, he plunged back inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly and draw attention from the nearby librarian. 

The librarian's voice cut through the hazy fog of pleasure, jolting you out of your intense concentration. But not Ominis’.

“Dears? Is everything okay up there?” Her concerned tone was met with a sharp demand from Ominis. 

“Tell her we’re fine.” he commanded, his thrusts not faltering for a second. 

You struggled to compose yourself and spoke in a strained whisper, “W-We’re fine Ma’am, thank you.”

“Do you need assistance with anything dear? I can’t hear you very well.” The librarian's footsteps could be heard coming closer to where you were entwined with Ominis.

“Tell her we need bigger tables so I can fuck you in different posit-” 

“We’re good ma’am, Thank you!” You finally managed to say loud and clear.

“Shhh. Please do not scream,” she scolded gently. “Very well then, I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” With that, her footsteps receded and the two of you were left alone once again

Without warning, Ominis' hand shot out and wrapped around your neck, his fingers exerting just enough pressure to display his dominance. But despite his forceful hold, he was careful not to cause any harm. 

"Have you had enough of me, darling?" He growled in a deep, commanding voice.

"No…" You breathed out, your fingertips tracing the outline of his lips as you balanced his aggression with gentle and loving touches. 

Suddenly, he released you and spun you around, lifting one of your legs up onto the desk table. With ease, he slipped back inside of you and your body immediately responded with an arch of pleasure. 

His lips trailed down your back as his grip tightened on your hips, guiding the pace of his cock entering and exiting your body. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through you, leaving you in a state of pure bliss under his cold hands.

Your body trembled as his strong hand pulled your hair, forcing you to stand up straight and press against his hard chest. He grasped your neck with his other hand, exerting a gentle pressure as he massaged your swollen breast with cold fingers.

You were completely at his mercy, just as you always had been.

As the rhythm of his thrusts intensified, the sound of his balls slapping against your backside echoed through the empty cubicles. His pale hand found its way down to your throbbing clit, where he teased and rubbed it in tight circles. Each time he penetrated you deeper, it felt like he was claiming a piece of you. His powerful grip on your throat only added to the intensity, accompanied by his hoarse moans that filled your ear with your name over and over again.

All of these sensations combined into one overwhelming wave, bringing you both to another explosive orgasm. It was everything you needed in that moment, and you couldn't help but surrender completely to him. 

Ominis slowly withdrew from your body, leaving a trail of warmth and satisfaction in his wake. His body pulsed with pleasure as he released his warmth onto your back. Your skin tingled with the lingering sensation of his touch.

As you both caught your breath, Ominis reached for his handkerchief to clean up any traces of your intimacy. With gentle care, he helped you dress and made sure you were comfortable, continually asking if you were okay. 

Once you were fully clothed, he led you over to the desk again, sat you down, resting his head in your lap as he gazed up at you with adoration.

“May I have some Bertie Botts now, please darling?”

[willyoubemycherryy]

Order➬ 1 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒓𝒖𝒎 𝒘 𝑬𝒎𝒎𝒂!𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒎 (𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍) @charmingballoon

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕? 𝑮𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕!” “𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏.”

𝑰𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒎 𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒕, ✪𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎𝒔, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 ¯\_)ツ)_/¯

. . ,

You hated him.

That’s what you told yourself whenever you’d see him. You knew of his reputation and decided right away that no matter what, you would not allow yourself to be swept up and enthralled by him.

So ending up, alone, in the drawing room with him was truly by complete mistake.

“Surely you can’t find me so insufferable that you refuse to even entertain me in conversation?” His light jab irks you as you scowl at his handsome face.

“You can entertain yourself just fine. You need not my audience.”

The pure ice in your tone draws him to you like a moth to a flame. He’s noticed you long before now but it was clear off the bat that you didn’t care for him in the slightest. So naturally, he couldn’t resist being around you. Following you at the latest ball as you flitted into an empty room filled with billiard tables.

All you wanted was space from all the heavy perfumed bodies but now you want to leave all together. Irked and aroused by his insufferable presence, you mouth off at him, fed up with how haughty he always seemed to be. Especially since you knew that he knew of your dislike of him.

“Just who do you think you are?!” You shout at him. Frank only smirks as he replies.

“Frank Churchill, pleasure to be acquainted my lady”, he pauses and his easygoing attitude makes you want to jump him, “if I may, why do you hate me so fiercely?”

You gape at him in shock because there’s no way he’s being serious. Looking into his breathtaking deep blue eyes, you give him your full opinion.

“I think the reason is quite obvious. You walk with the highest instep in mankind, you’re too used to everyone falling over you and rumor has it you go through the messiest flings”, he simply listens and waits for you to finish, driven to have you now even more.

“…and to top all that, you’re face is pleasant enough to make one startle with each look at you which is most infuriating-“ the amused look on his face makes you quiet as you realize what you said as you glare at him.

If looks could kill…

“Ah~ How good I will sleep at night knowing you find me pleasant to look at”, he purrs, coming into your space. Heat creeps up your neck but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“I don’t care how you sleep! Actually, you know what?!”

“Tell me what.”

“You can go kiss it!”

He hums before leaning down to your face, full lips close to yours as he whispers.

“Open your legs so I can.”

He captures your lips in a heated kiss as soon as you snap your head up, plump lips move passionately against yours and you moan when he licks into your mouth. Gasping as he lifts you onto one of the tables you rush to gather your dress, huffing indignantly.

“Just like that? Don’t you think you’re being too easy?”, you taunt him even though your one to talk, Frank laughs in response as he kneels, cooing at your wet panties before slipping them off.

“I am merely honoring your wishes to “kiss it”. You can hold my hand if it’s too much.” Before you can snap at him again, he’s licking a broad stripe up your pussy and your head drops back, a wrecked moan escaping your chest.

You’re so wet already, soft skin shiny-slick and flushed with arousal, Frank slides his hands up to your hips to hold you still, but you keep twitching up, trying to fuck against his tongue while he laps over you in broad strokes.

The sounds coming from your mouth make him think that you’ve loved him all his life as you moan his name, swept away with how good he’s making you melt under him.

You cry out when he wraps his full lips around your swollen clit and sucks, keeping up a steady rhythm of hard and soft suction while you grip his hand. The noises spilling out of your mouth pitch into high, frantic, almost distressed trills, your clit a pulsing nub between Frank’s soft lips. He stops sucking, just to flick the tip of his tongue against you a couple times, reveling in your sweet whines.

And then he pulls back with a soft kiss to the aching nub. You tighten your hand on his hard, and tilt your hips up as much as you can with Frank’s firm hold on you, keeping you down.

“You miserable tease,” your voice breaking a little when he licks around your entrance.

“You teased me first,” Frank says, teasing around your hole with his tongue, smirking a little when he can feel you clenching, trying to draw him in.

You don’t have time for this. You’re wet beyond belief and you can’t think straight long enough to argue.

“Poor thing,” he says, pointing his tongue and fucking you with it until you’re writhing under him, harsh pants edged with almost-groans making your chest heave under your tight laced corset. “You fancy me quite a lot, don’t you darling?” he asks, when he pulls out, and you full-on whine.

“Please,” you say, clutching at Frank’s hair- not trying to move him anymore, just grasping because you need to hold onto something. “Please, Frank.”

“I adore when you beg,” he tells you, dragging his tongue slow and torturous over up your soaked cunny, pausing just before he gets to your clit just to make you whine again.

He puts his mouth on you again. This time with intent and your wild beneath him. Fingers clasped tightly in his that he’s sure your knuckles are white, hips moving so frantically you’re almost bucking him off. Frank’s close himself, the smell of you thick and sweet in his nostrils, taste of you heady on his tongue, the sweet friction as he humps against the air.

“I - please, please, I - oh,” you babble; Frank sucks so hard his cheeks hollow out, letting his tongue rub against the achy-hard nub of your clit until you jerk your hips so hard you do knock him off, practically sobbing as you cum.

Your fingers tighten even more in his hair while you jerk under him, the desperate relief in your breathy sobs pushing him right over the edge. Frank rests his forehead against your thigh, gasping through it as his cock jerks in his pants.

You pet his hair with shaky fingers, breathing slowly returning to normal. Frank waits for the buzzing in his head, the heaviness in his limbs to subside a little before he stands up, leaning over your slack form in smug amusement. Everything about what just happened was beyond improper but you let it happen because you like him. The revelation fills him with unbridled glee.

“Shall I assume my kiss was to your liking?”

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

[sophswritingthings]

girls girls girls - blue eyed samurai

pairing: mizu x f!oc

warning(s): okay there's no smut, but mentions of sex and prostitution in relation to madam Kaji's girls

tropes: sort of annoyances to lovers, first kiss, sort of canon compliant, sort of canon divergent

a/n: she/her mizu by the way, and also this takes place during the... 2-3 episode I think??? idk, I don't exactly remember I was staring at mizu the entire time. ALSO THE TITLE IS A FLETCHER SONG, GO LISTEN!!!!!

summary: mio, an estranged princess by marriage, finds herself traveling with a feisty samurai and her apprentice. when they find themselves among a brothel, mio takes the chance to ask some… questions.

word count: 2,171 words / 11, 869 characters

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mio waded through the crowd of people. she was wearing a pink/red kimono, the traditional look of a japanese woman. her hair was done up, gold pins stuck through it. though the bottom of her kimono was in rags, torn to shreds from running so fast. after mizu and ringo, that was. they'd found her in her desperate time of need. a high lady, she was. not a princess, no, but she was married off to be one. her husband-to-be was an abusive prick. and when she decided to run, she ran into mizu and ringo. they'd (thankfully) taken her with them. despite miss's pleas against it, ringo had broken her down, somehow, and she'd annoyingly agreed. "you do know you're going to a brothel," mio raised an eyebrow, her pretty red lips parting a bit as she walked beside the weary samurai. "I know where I'm going, princess," it was almost as mizu meant the word as an insult. a jab. a prick. a stab. though it didn't seem to wound her. "did you think I didn't?" she said in that raspy voice, looking at mio beside her through her round, tinted glasses. "do not put words in my mouth," mio narrowed her dark, deep brown eyes. her eyes were like pools of darkness, that held many a secrets behind their beauty. "I never said that. I would only think . . ." mio looked mizu up and down, "that you would not go inside a brothel to receive their services." "and you would find yourself right," she hisses, the corner of her mouth twitching as they stepped inside the brothel. mizu did not bother to hold the door for her, making mio stop in her tracks. . . . not that she expected it, mizu was a difficult person. mio pulled the door open herself, holding it for ringo to step inside. after he did, he thanked her kindly, smiling brightly. mio nodded, stepping inside. "I wish to speak with madam kaji," when mio heard those words, her body stiffened. the man whom mizu was speaking to seemed unimpressed by her aggressive nature, her tone. "madam kaji's clients make appointments before they come barging into her brothel, demanding her services," he scoffed, his arms folded over his chest. his sleeves rolled up slightly as he did so. "I am not here for her services," mizu eyes were narrowed to slits, as they always were. no change there. "I said I wish to speak with her. is that so damn hard?" "it happens to be," he rolled his eyes. "if you wish to wait for the madam, than you may. I suggest you take part in the services to.. hold you over." mizu rolled her eyes, pushing past the man at the front. mio offered him a smile and a kind apology, following her confidants inside. around her, there were many women, many men. most were stripped naked, providing what they were payed to do. pleasure. prostitutes, the men would call them. they were honest women providing honest work. mizu had settled in the corner of the brothel, on the floor. her back was against the wall, one leg propped up, the other stretched out. her right hand was rested on the floor, her other draped over her knee. mio settled down against the wall. not next to mizu, no, just near. she folded her legs, sitting with them crossed. a kettle and a few cups sat on a small table. the kettle had steam bubbling from the tip. "why don't the two of you drink," mio delicately grabbed one of the cups. the cups were not deep, yet they were wide, round. she poured some of the sake into one of the cups, passing it to ringo. he happily excepted her offer. "and you." mio eyed mizu, pouring another cup of sake. when she attempted to hand the cup off to her, she denied, putting her hand up. mio shrugged, "we will be here for a while, mizu," mio murmured, taking a sip of her sake. "madam kaji does not take her clients lightly, you should know this, if you know anything of her. it will most likely be hours before you can speak with her." "I am aware of this," mizu hisses. "and I can wait, princess. unless you can't?" "no, I can wait," mio murmurs, locking eyes with mizu for a moment. its quiet, as they look at one another. tension so thick you could probably slice through it perfectly.

"ringo,” mizu let her gaze now rest on her apprentice, sat a few feet in front of her. her expression did not shift, did not change. she gently titled her head back, leaning it against what looked to be a wooden door frame. “you could go and look around. In fact, you should.”

mizu's words were firm, as they always were. but they seemed to have… a different meaning behind them. that was probably just mio's mind running in circles though.

“oh- um, sure, master.” ringo collected himself to his feet. he glanced between mio and mizu before making his way out of the brothel. 

“hmph,” mizu let out a little sigh.

“he’s a good apprentice, you know,” mio murmured, her eyes drifting back to mizu's figure. “he respects you. you can tell.”

“I suppose he is,” mizu muttered, her voice trailing off. she seemed to have thoughts swarming her mind.

“something on your mind, mizu?” mio arched an eyebrow, raising her cup to her mouth. she gently parted her painted red lips to allow the sake to come through.

“nothing of your concern,” mizu narrowed her eyes again.

“hm,” mio hummed, allowing her muscles to relax against the wall. “you should drink, mizu, I’m not sure when the last time I saw you do so.”

“why does it concern you,” mizu let her eyebrows press together in an aggressive expression. “princess?”

mio simply ignored her hostility. she hadn’t been with them for long, but she'd gotten used to mizu's demeanor quick.

“because I don’t want you to die, is that so bad?” mio sighed. she took the kettle in her delicate hands once more, pouring yet another cup of sake. “drink.”

mizu gazed the woman up and down, from her torn kimono to the golden pins stuck through her hair. she slowly reached over, her hand steady yet twitching. she let the cup slide into her hand, gently brushing mio's fingers with hers.

mizu looked hesitant to drink the sake placed in her hands.

“I didn’t poison you, mizu,” mio muttered, glancing over at her. though she seemed a bit flustered from the sudden touch. “If that’s what you're thinking.”

“I wasn’t,” in an instant, as if to show her confidence, she raised the cup to her lips. 

mio couldn’t hold back a gentle, breathy laugh, “you're something,” she whispered, almost too quiet for mizu to hear. mio couldn’t help herself; her eyes traveling up and down mizu's figure. it was nice to look at, sure. strong legs to a pretty face, even prettier under those orange tinted glasses. people thought those blue eyes of hers made her a demon. 

mio thought they were gorgeous. 

“you're doing the thing again,” mizu hissed, her voice coarse and raspy.

“what thing?” mio questioned, taking another sip of her sake. she very well knew what she had been doing, and that she'd been——wait, did she say again?

“the staring, the eyes,” mizu seemed unimpressed yet mio could see a hint of fluster under that “disgusted” expression. 

“is a woman such as myself not allowed to look at the handsome sight in front of me?” mio questioned, her gaze firm yet gentle on mizu's eyes.

“enough,” mizu placed her hand up, telling mio to back down. 

mio was not letting a slim, rare chance slip through her fingertips like flowing water.

“you're obviously flustered,” mio murmured.

“drop it, mio,” she let her gaze drop onto mio's face, her expression cold and colorless. 

“tell me, mizu,” mio mustered up every bit of courage she might have just to ask one, silly question. “have you ever kissed a woman?”

mizu froze at the question, her entire body stiffening, “do you think I’d just offer answers about myself to you?”

“it was a simple question,” mio narrowed her eyes a bit. “and If you're not flustered, as you say you are, there should be no problem answering it—should there?”

mio's words were almost like a challenge, to the samurai. 

and she knew mizu was not one to back down form a challenge.

“fine,” she conceded. “no. I haven’t. is that the answer you were looking for, princess?”

mio looked to be satisfied with herself, “that'll do, yes.”

“now,” mizu's expression shifted a little, to one that was a bit playful, a bit smug, if that were a way to describe it. “how about you, princess?”

“hm- oh, I- it was a question for you, not for me-“

“I answered one,” mizu countered. “why not you?”

mio stared at her for a moment. she would play into this little game they were playing, if it lead to what she wanted, “fine, okay,” mio folded. “I have not, either. only my prick of a husband. and, may I add, that was not very good.”

mizu scoffed, “I wouldn’t think it was,” she mumbled.

“one last question for you, mizu,” mio let her eyes meet the samurai’s once more. she managed to muster up every prick of confidence in her body again; taking a deep breath before speaking again, “would you kiss me?”

mizu’s entire body stopped, looking like a statue of a samurai pressed against the wall. surprise twinkled in her eyes before she adverted her gaze, not bothering to look at mio.

“that’s completely out of line, mio,” that was the first thing she said— because, of course it was. “no. no.”

mio’s heart shattered when she heard that one little two letter word.

no.

“oh- I- um,” mio’s voice was barley audible. that little spark that she had, that little confidence, it seemed to die, just at that word. “th-then, erm, forget it. forget what I said, I- wasn’t really serious, anyway.”

mio wasn’t completely serious.

she just wanted to protect herself from getting hurt.

mio was gathering herself to her feet, picking up the shredded kimono that danced along the wood ground. “I.. think.. I-I’m gonna go.”

maybe she could just stay with madam kaji. not that she wanted to leave mizu, or ringo, for that matter, traveling with them when she had gone and done all this . . .

mizu didn’t say a word to her. she was just quickly gathering herself to her feet, turning on her heels to grab mio’s small, soft hand.

mio’s pale face flushed pink. mizu pulled her a little closer, just to allow her arm to relax. her thumb, the skin coarse, rubbed against mio’s palm.

“I never said I wanted you to go,” the samurai murmured, for once her voice was warm, her expression shifting to something.. soft. something she’d never seen from a warrior such as mizu. her gaze flickered from mio’s hand to her dark eyes, “did I?”

“you . . did not.” mio adverted her eyes. not that she didn’t want to look at the pretty sight in front of her; she was just too embarrassed to do so.

“so then,” mizu’s voice was quiet and gentle, flowing like honey. “why are you leaving, princess?” the grip she had on mio’s hand was pulling her closer, and by the time she had the chance to speak again, she was pressed again mizu’s chest. 

mio’s mind was reading a million miles a minute, her heat pounding like a freight train against the tracks. 

“so . .” mio fully pressed herself against mizu’s chest, able to feel all of the tight, tense muscles inside. “that was not your true answer to my question?”

mizu lent down, her lips inches from mio’s. they were parted slightly, ready to speak to the girl once more.

“indeed it wasn’t,” mizu murmured, her eyes flickering to mio’s lips. her free hand slunk under mio’s chin, tilting it up slightly, “may I?”

mio gave a slow, steady nod. 

mizu closed the gap, taking in a sharp breath when their lips pressed together. her hands snaked into mio’s hair, removing the gold pins that were holding it in its updo. her black locks fell on her shoulders, cascading down her back like free ocean waves. mizu ran her fingers through the now free locks.

“now,” mizu murmured, still holding the back of mio’s head, her fingertips gently caressing her hair. “was that up to the princesses standards?”

“considering I didn’t believe I was going to get one in the first place,” mio laughed, fiddling with the strands of midnight hair that now fell on her shoulders. “it was wonderful I’d say.”

“hmm. well, good. I have the feeling you’ll be getting a lot more.”

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

a/n: GIRL KISSER GIRL KISSER. in all honestly I hope you enjoyed it :) the next ones with still be “x oc” as of now, just while I get used to writing these fics!! than it'll switch to “x reader”. just imagine your mio 😭

tags: @jspidey5

[odyssean-flower]

A random deleted scene from chapter 9

(have another deleted scene hahahaha i think i will get the next chapter done this week hahaha)

“Do you stare so intently at all the ladies you bring here?”

“No, only you,” Then, as if realizing what he just said, he hurriedly added, “Ah, what I meant is, you are the only one I’ve brought here.”

“Really?” That was unexpected. Or maybe not. He probably took them to high-class restaurants or society balls.

They were probably better conversationists, too, you thought as you looked at Neuvillette, who was now looking anywhere but you.

You had never asked Neuvillette about his romantic history. It was none of your business, and it had nothing to do with you, just like how your romantic history (or lack thereof) had nothing to do with him. You weren’t interested, really. Not even a little bit.

“Yes. Would I lie to you? I’m the Chief Justice, I would never do such a thing,” Neuvillette said. “And I am under the assumption that people on dates generally look at each other.”

“…I don’t see how being the Chief Justice preclude you from lying. And how would you feel if I stared at you in the way that you stare at me? Would you enjoy it?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

“Why would you not be sure? You didn’t like it when I did it before, did you?” Maybe he’s taking revenge on me? I did apologize, though!

“Have I ever said I disliked it?”

“It upset you, didn’t it?”

“I was more upset about how you avoided me.”

“Very well. I shall stare at you closely as well. I’m sure that will teach you how off-putting it is once and for all.”

You leaned forward and fixed your gaze on him. He looked back at you. Nothing could be heard except for the chirping of birds and the gentle lapping of water against the boat.

Three seconds passed. The sun was now high in the sky, but there was also a cool wind blowing, which helped offset the heat. Neuvillette’s hair swayed gently in the breeze, along with those long blue floppy things in his hair. What were they, anyways?

Five seconds passed. Neuvillette’s face so much as twitch. It was as though it was carved from marble. His eyes never left yours. He really was very handsome, wasn’t he? Come on, focus.

Ten seconds passed. If someone was watching the two of you from outside, they would probably assume that you were a couple of passionate lovers absorbed in each other’s eyes. It wasn’t that far off from the truth, though.

Fifteen seconds passed. Your eyes were beginning to water. You needed to blink. But blinking means I lose! Not that this is a competition…right? Neuvillette took another sip of water. He’s mocking me!

Seventeen seconds passed. You no longer remembered why you were doing this. You really needed to blink. A breeze blew a strand of your hair into your face and you tucked it behind your ear. Neuvillette’s eyes followed that movement. You smacked your suddenly dry lips together. Was it just your imagination, or were his ears turning red?

Nineteen seconds passed. You decided to throw in the towel. Your eyes were beginning to tear up. But before you could do so, Neuvillette cleared his throat and looked away.

“I see your point, Madame. I must apologize to you for my discourtesy. A lady shouldn’t be stared at in such a way.”

Hmm, so now he remembers. “As long as you understand,” you said.

There was another stretch of silence.

He really did look picturesque in the sunlight, even though he disliked it. Was that the curse of being beautiful?

A familiar urge rose up within you. It was the same feeling you had when you saw a pretty landscape, or when you spotted an unfamiliar flower. You wanted to preserve those things in some form and look at them again and again. You wanted some way to recall the feelings they inspired in you.

The question was perched on the edge of your tongue. It refused to come out. You felt your palms becoming slick with sweat. Your heart was pounding. Why were you so nervous? It was a reasonable question. It was normal to do such things on dates, wasn’t it? You had too many pictures of the scenery, anyways. And surely it would be smart to have proof of this date to show Furina…

You didn’t realize Neuvillette was calling your name until you felt him shake your shoulder. “[Name]!” Neuvillette’s eyes, filled with concern, were peering into yours. “Is something wrong? Are you getting—”

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” the words spilled out from your mouth before you could stop them. “May I take a photo of you?”

Neuvillette’s brows knitted together, as though he found your question incomprehensible. “I beg your pardon?”

Oh great, now you’ve done it. “What I mean is…would you give your permission to allow me to take a picture of you? Just one, I promise. I will never show it to anyone, it will be for my eyes only. If you want, I can even sign a wai—”

“Yes, I give you my permission. But on one condition.”

You stared at him. He looked deadly serious. Well, he always looked serious. “What is it, sir?”

“That you allow me to take a picture of you as well.”

“Huh? …Um, I mean, sure, if that’s what you want…”

You held the Kamera up to your face, aiming the lens at Neuvillette. The willow tree was behind him. He looked stately and dignified, if a bit stiff. He wasn’t smiling, which was disappointing, but that was alright. The shot had an air of mysticism to it. You adjusted the focus until everything was in sharp relief, before clicking the shutter button. You were no photographer, but you liked the result.

“Your turn,” you passed the Kamera to Neuvillette. You looked at your reflection, checking your hair and makeup.

The boat approached the island in the center. It seemed that Neuvillette wanted to take a picture of you in front of the willow tree as well. He helped you out of the boat. You expected him to tell you where to stand, but instead studied you, looking deep in thought. He seemed to be taking this much too seriously.

In the meantime, you decided to look around. The aquamarine branches of the willow tree seemed to cover the entire island and blot out the skies. You could definitely see why the ancients used to worship it. Maybe you could find some ruins of that worship here, some small fragments or something…

Snap! You heard the sound of a camera shutter. You turned and saw Neuvillette holding the Kamera to his face.

“Did you take a picture of me just now?” you were a bit alarmed. “I wasn’t ready yet.”

“My apologies,” Neuvillette said lightly, but weirdly enough there was a distinct lack of his usual sincerity in his voice. “I could not help myself.”

“We can do a retake,” you said.

“There’s no need for it. The photo is perfect as it is.”

[rpreaperperson]

1. A simple Hello

Call Of Duty x Neko! Reader

Fem! Reader

For More : Masterlist

She stared at her reflection on the mirror picking her choker from the coffee table beside it, as she put it on ,it made a jinggling sound

Until a knock snapped her

“Subject #2 you ready?” older woman voice came from behind the door, she jumped and frantically combing her short black hair 

“Y-yes! Ma’am!”

Taking a deep breath she let it out and softly smacking her cheeks

“Okay!...heres go nothin!” pumped her fist then walk into the door

.

“A..Half breed ?”

“  Yes and she’s on her way here, Ghost she will be teamed with you”

“...So the new recruit is...a half breed..what kind of half breed?”ask Ghost like there’s nothing new about it, to be honest nothing can suprise this man anymore

“ Half human, half cat you’ll knew when you met her” Ghost look at the file mostly at the name

“Subject #2? No picture of her?” 

“No, they kept her whereabouts a secret until now”

“so is it some kind of human made or something?” Price raised his eyebrows

“not exactly.. she was born indeed from a half breed parent there is some kind of story that we don't know about her , for more information you can ask to her or her caretaker”

“why suddenly they handed this creature over to the military?” Laswell shook her head looking at the files handed to her

‘Please...do keep her safe..and make her stronger then she’ll ever be..’

“At any how she’ll join the military... she is fierce more flexible and fastest than you are..I already saw her skills ” the three members of 141 imagined a rough looking woman, a sharp glare and considering she's a half breed her face would look monstrous than a normal human ever be

“is she prepared for this?” ask Price

“...yes..and she must be prepared for any circumtance..” the meeting room fell silent for a moment

“shame Soap must be on a mission for this new recruit” Gaz chimed in as Laswell smiled

“I already told him about this..so –“

Two knocking sound come from the door

“Come in!” reply Laswell, dan they’re bracing themself for the new recuit first they saw older woman around 60 she wearing white doctor coat and a big glasses hanging on her nose, her brown hair made into messy bun

 And then ,the one they waiting for.....the new recruit

But what they didnt expect that the fierce half breed would be so....Cheery?

“Hello Lady and Gentlemans! I am Subject #2 I hope we could get along!” her black cat ear atop her head twitching and her fluffly black tail swirling exicted to meet new people let’s not forget her bright smile and wide innocent blue eyes

“Fucking hell...” ghost muttered, while Price and Gaz raised they eyebrows

Taglist: @kaoyamamegami

[author-morgan]

Title: White Knight Pairing: Ser Erryk Cargyll x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: You and Erryk both know what it means when he swears the oath of the Kingsgaurd, but it does not make it any easier. Warnings: typical Westerosi shenanigans A belated Christmas and early Valentine's present for @mrsragnarlodbrok! ❤️🎁😘

For our love is a ghost that the others can't see.

HE COMES TO you in the night, bringing urgent tidings which leave him elated and distraught. For weeks there were whispers in the Red Keep of who the new members of the Kingsgaurd would be in the wake of Ser Robin Shaw and Ser Clement Crabb’s recent passing. Arryk and Erryk Cargyll’s names garnered much attention and praise from the Lords of the Court and Small Council in recent weeks. The twins are of noble stock from the Crownlands. They are fine men. Among the best warriors the Seven Kingdoms can offer, as so few returned from Prince Daemon’s war in the Stepstones.

The whispers were proven true at the feast to celebrate Prince Aemond’s fifth nameday —and with Aegon and Aemond quickly growing, the young princes would need their own sworn swords. The honor of serving alongside his brother in the Kingsguard is one Erryk has dreamt of since he was a boy. Now Viserys has extended that honor to both he and Arryk. But the vows he must take weigh heavy on his shoulders with the thought of you. 

“Do not let me dissuade you, Erryk.” His clear gaze flits up from the flagstone floor to you —smiling and happier about the news than him. “To be named a knight of the Kingsguard is among the highest of honors,” you reason. Boys dreamt of serving in the Kingsguard, and so few are ever offered the opportunity to fulfill their boyhood dreams. Despite it all, you know why he has come to you so distraught —it is the status of your courtship and the oath he must swear. 

You know the oaths knights swear well enough, and those of the Kingsguard too —have heard the young princes and boys at court whisper them with starry-eyed aspirations of donning the White Cloak one day. I swear to ward the King with all my strength and give my blood for His. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, and father no children. I shall guard His secrets, obey His commands, ride at His side and defend His name and honor. I pledge to His Grace my life and honor from this day to the end of my days.

He grips your hands, blue-grey eyes pleading with you to understand the gravity of this moment —what it means for the two of you and the future you’ve both thought and spoken about. “I must swear to never marry.” Erryk’s voice wavers as he echoes the oath. “To father no children and hold no lands.” I can live without a Keep and land to call my own, he thinks. “I do not wish to give you up.” It’s a hoarse whisper that makes your stomach churn with sorrow and heart ache.

You love Erryk, dearly, and for that, you cannot let him set aside such an honor for you —the daughter of a newly named vassal house of the Riverlands. His name will live on in history should he don the white cloak but would surely fade if he takes you to wed. And after all, given your position in court, it is unlikely you and Erryk will truly have to be parted from one another’s company. “I am one of Rheanyra’s ladies-in-waiting,” you remind him, gently, “and you are to be one of her sworn protectors.” You can see the corners of his lips twitch upward beneath his scraggly beard. “I do not think we will often be parted.”

Erryk’s brows furrow. “You would have me break my oath?”

“No!” You quickly exclaim. “I only meant we do not have to become strangers should you accept the king’s offer,” you explain. “We all must make sacrifices in this life, and I would not have you give up your dream for me, Erryk.”

Erryk exhales, his breath shaking —it seems as though you have decided for him. “Grant me one last night then, my lady,” he says, a whispered plea, as he looks at you, pinning you there with his warm, nigh doleful gaze, as though he can’t decide how to proceed or how to make this night last a lifetime. Erryk settles for a chaste kiss. It’s soft, save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw and searching as he waits for you to give him an indication of where this night is to lead. And when your lips meet again, it's with intention —fingers threading into Erryk’s hair, anchoring yourself against him, and ruining the half-bun that keeps his long dark hair from falling in front of his face.

He moves forward, easing you back toward the bed —a plainly furnished wooden frame and a lumpy straw-and-feather stuffed mattress you’ve shared many times before. He lays you back, never once daring to part from your lips, your touch. Bliss makes your head spin, and upon coming up for air, you find his eyes staring into your own, communicating everything you could ever wish for and everything you can never have.

The chill of the night air turns your skin to gooseflesh as Erryk pushes up the hem of your chemise —the rough pads of his fingers brushing across your stomach and then higher. You squirm out of the thin piece of linen, and he tosses it aside, pausing above you for the briefest of moments. He breathes your name, a soft sigh; then his lips trace over your collarbone before he sits back on the edge of the bed, toeing off his boots.

He glances back up to your face and uses your arms to drag you closer to him, hooking them around his neck as he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his hands settle on your waist —warm and strong as he pulls you against him. He’s hot. Skin and mouth. And every touch and lingering caress sets you alight, burning on the inside. Erryk parts and stares down at you —memorizing the curve of your chin and upper lip, the soft glimmer and adoration in your eyes as you look at him. Between the ache in his heart and the voice in his head, it’s nigh too much, and he dips back down for another kiss, this time parting your lips, relishing the startled breath you give.

Your hands wander across his shoulders and back, gathering the linen of his tunic in your hands before pulling free the hem from his britches and drawing the off-white fabric up and overhead. Erryk shudders when your lips brush over his chest, fingertips wandering over the muscles of his arms and back —committing the feel of him to memory. But his hands wander too, and you can’t help but tense up when you feel his fingers ghost over you. Your legs spread wider for him, and you’re rewarded with a stroke from the entrance of your cunt to your clit.

He does it again before pressing a finger into your warmth, working you slowly open. Your hips jerk softly along with his movements. He hums when a second finger joins it, quickly kissing you again to hide the little whimpers you make with every move of his hand. He knows your body just as well as you do, and it’s easy to tell exactly how he needs to touch you to make you gasp and clench around his fingers —and he’s relentless in his efforts. His thumb rubs firmly against your clit, and you jolt.

“Erryk.” His name is a soft plea for more or to stop. You aren’t sure which. His free hand brushes a stray hair out of your face, and you smile up at him, unfocused and panting hard. You clumsily grab for him but get distracted by the fingers shifting inside you. He moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s found inside you —leaving your nerves tingling with every touch. His mouth finds yours again, and you run a hand through his hair, then his fingers angle themselves just right to stroke the spot that pushes you over the precipice.

Rising from the bed, he undoes his belt and the ties of his britches, stepping out of them and his drawers. Then he finally lets you touch him in return, and you run your hand along the length of his hard cock. He tilts your chin up with one finger to steal another kiss, and you let out a small sigh —willing to give anything to make this night last a lifetime. Erryk rejoins you on the bed and pulls you atop him, straddling his lap. You adjust yourself, and his hands settle at your hips to line your body up with his. He guides you downward, and you feel the head of his cock push inside your cunt. He bottoms out inside you in one smooth thrust that makes the air catch in your throat.

“Are you alright?” He asks, ever the gentleman, as his lips trail faint, soothing kisses along your shoulder. You nod wordlessly. There’s only the pleasant and familiar stretch of his cock. You give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, and he lifts you by the hips and brings you back down onto him. He watches you, murmuring praises for you that would sound unbearably cheesy coming from anyone else. His stare is wide and unblinking as he appreciates the sight of your cunt taking him in over and over. Your knight is so romantic it should be embarrassing, but somehow all you feel is affection —another of his many talents. You pull him down for another kiss, long and slow until your lungs ache, and you can feel his lips curve into a smile against yours.

Erryk reads you like a book —a battle plan— ready to adjust his pace or intensity perfectly to match your wants before you can even ask aloud. He does all the work for you, his grip firm on your hips to guide you up and down along his cock. You shift in his arms to drag your lips down his neck, and he brings you down at an angle that’s just a bit different. Your body reacts immediately to the sudden stimulation, nigh severing the only thing keeping you tethered to shore in a sea of ecstasy. His own breath stutters in his throat at the feeling of you clenching around him. Erryk thinks he could spend the next thousand years like this, and it still wouldn’t be enough. And it drives him to madness to know this must be the last time to have like this.

You whimper and groan in frustration when he pulls you off him and lays you back on the bed, but then he’s clambering over you, the bedframe creaking with the shifting weight. Nestled between your legs, his cock nudges deeper and sends lazy tendrils of euphoria curling through you. Erryk’s eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen, shining with love and lust and something akin to awe. You lean your head back, arching your body to better accept him, every ridge and vein of him dragging against you.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure, your panting scarcely keeping up with the demand of your racing heart. His kiss is rough and desperate —a wet and messy meeting of mouths as his rhythm loses its steadiness and any semblance of control as he seeks his own end.

He lifts his mouth off yours, and rough fingertips slide between your bodies, pushing through the sweat and slick to strum your clit. His eyes are heavy and half-lidded as he borders the precipice of his pleasure, nearly there, dragging you with him for once more before he will allow himself his release. 

His cock throbs and twitches as your body tightens and clenches under the tender assault of his fingers. You let your head fall to the side, pulling you under the fog of ecstasy. Erryk doesn’t need much longer, only a handful more thrusts, before he gives in. For a moment, he remains like that, half leaning over you, his eyes shit, catching his breath. Then he shifts, and you can feel the extra warmth between your thighs.

Erryk’s gentle as he relaxes his arms, lowering himself to rest on top of you. He lays his head across your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heartbeat as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, keeping him close. He’ll pull his softening cock out of you soon enough, but at the moment, all he wants is a minute of peace like this. A moment to remember.

With deliberate movement, Erryk shifts back, drawing your body with him as he lays down on the bed once again, pulling you with him. Softly, his palms smooth over your bare back, your figure pressed to his as warm skin sticks together. And his fingertips lightly trace back and forth over your neck as you carefully adjust your head, resting it once more on his chest —whispering your affections.

WHEN RHAENYRA WISHES to return to Dragonstone, you are among the first she asks to accompany her back to her ancestral home. It is the growing rift between her and the Queen that drives the heir to the Iron Throne across Blackwater Bay. Erryk already knows when you find him sharpening his sword outside Prince Aegon’s chambers. But the King has made him and his brother the protectors of Prince Aegon and Aemond. If but a fortnight sooner in her decision, Erryk would have still been Rhaenrya’s sworn shield. He holds you, weeping, for as long as he dares and promises this will not be goodbye. And you pluck up the courage to kiss his cheek before returning to your chambers to ready your belongings. But as you glance back over your shoulder at Ser Erryk Cargyll, he cannot help but wonder if taking the oath was truly the right thing to do.

He comes to pledge fealty to Queen Rhaenrya. Offering the crown of her father —and grandfather— as he recites the vows of the Kingsguard once again. And after little Visenya’s pyre is naught but ashes and the first war council concludes, he comes to you in the dark of night sans armor —echoing a night nigh a decade ago. You open the door to your room, surprised to find him standing before you after all these years apart. 

“Erryk?” He steps to you. “I...what are you–” Chapped lips softly cut off your nervous rambling, and you close your eyes, sinking into his warmth, his smell, nigh all your worries quickly forgotten. He envelops you in every sense of the word, and you let yourself wonder if this is what home truly feels like. Alas, quickly —too quickly— he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours and a hand atop the one that rests on his shoulder. Everything fades as Erryk whispers your name. You kiss him back without thought of consequence, hands moving to the nape of his neck to draw him closer, unwilling to be parted again. Oaths be damned, Erryk thinks, if Rhaenrya must have his head for this offense, then he’ll gladly walk to the gallows. 

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[angellurgy2]

hi this is a story i dont think i ever posted here where i was fucking around with writing a relatable dissociated victim. its currently unnamed and its about someone having their place in their own head fucked with really bad by some kind of hypnotist esque person.

A void swirls around me. my eyes are blanketed in a deep, ephemeral grayscale sky. stars of red and green and blue scatter around me, mixing together, granting a small beauty through the null. its like space, if it was imagined by a kid with aphantasia who’s never looked into the sky before. i used to love space when i was younger. this wondrous, beautiful extremity of the world, with so much potential. so much to learn, to explore. its awe-inspiring. there is nothing like that to take from this soulful space,  though, for it is not a space in the sense of celestia, but a blank space. an empty fragment, visualized. is this supposed to be my ‘happy place’? i always wanted one of those.

i hear a piercing scream, echoing from the outside i cannot see. i recognize the voice, but i don’t know it. a shaking, grabbing at my form. who are you?  it shouts at me. no one. im sorry. why am i sorry? is that an emotion, if so it might be the first semblance of one ive felt. i think it was more instinctual. sorry, im rambling. rambling to myself? stop apologizing, body. i have a body, huh. i begin to feel, it takes me a while to figure out what, while the shaking continues. oh, those are my legs, i guess? i remember having those. not the tactile sensation, but the existence. i dont think i use them much, they’re worn with cuts and bruises and the whole body aches as it steps onto its feet. i can feel my eyelashes flutter as i peer into the behind of my lids. they well with tears. why am i feeling, stop it. stop it. i don’t want this. i can move my arms again. i don’t like this, put me back. please. please stop touching me. 

WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.

not my voice. why does it sound like that. why do i sound like that. that’s not me. please stop? grabbing at me more, feverish touch, groping fingers, rotten. outside of existence.

the police are here. 

nononononono not again. who- why. why. maybe i can run. fuck. the screaming’s inside now. i left it, please dont bring me back. my feet move of their own volition, dragging my desecrated corpse through the halls, out of the depths it hibernates. creaky steps up the wooden stairs, a door unlatching, her faint instructive whispering in my ear, the sound of heavy boots on the porch, i see nothing but noises. 

words slip from my chapped lips, a routine carved into my instincts. “hello officer” i choke out.  “hi sir.” i twitch. take his gun take his gun take his gun take his gun. sigh. its the shame shpeal as always. blah blah we’ve gotten some reports worried for your safety blah blah blah. traitors. they always do this when i disappear. let me die. the lies slip from my tongue so easily. im fine. they’re worried for nothing. i totally ate today yes. the blood stains aren’t fresh. the scars are old. no i dont know who that woman i- wait what woman? some thoughts finally rush to my head, i dont remember having a porch. wasn’t i in a studio? it would’ve been easier to die there what’s going on- a hand reaches into my hair. makes it feel better. yes of course i know “her”. yes i’m happy, can’t you see my smile? :)

I dont know if any of the pigs believe it but they leave without a second thought. fucking cops. pathetic. the lady yells out something nice at them. makes me squirm for a second. something angry bubbles up in the body’s head. i close the eyes and shut it down quick. no use for emotions in a carcass. 

a hand tugs into the hem of my neck. my shirt. forgot i had one of those. forgot those were a thing, honestly. i hope its cute at least. my limp form is pulled backwards through the front door. i almost fall but something else picks us up. i start to lose myself in the greyscale again before the sanctity of my eyelids are forced open, gazing directly into the asynchronatic blue and hazel eyes of an unrecognizable being. i’d say her beauty startled me awake if i wasnt so unsure this is even real.

apparently she was talking the whole time, because now we’re in the living room. i think? i forgot what that’s supposed to look like. her voice now tuned to the ears, i jolt at the sudden audio input. she sees and tilts her head with a mock smile. i think. her eyes glare into me like she’s staring into my absent soul. “Mutt.” 

dizzy. body moving away from me, again. so far. i watch it fall to its knees. fading. i can’t look at myself. she’s just smiling. bark! i feel familiar body spasms but don't see any physical representation. i never thought id miss the bodily prison. bark. bark. tilting its head to the side. my nonexistent hands clench tight. the woman brings her left leg to rest on her right, twirls her finger and we- it rolls over, instantaneously. like its ingrained into its programming. short-circuiting mental wires twist and fray in the head i unassuredly inhabit. pulling, twisting at cords between me and the form, voices berating myself for wanting back in as i thoughtlessly climb. 

her eyes suddenly glare upwards, past my head, almost as if directly into the ‘me’ i can feel. another twisting grin, teethy and sharp. “are you alright, dear?” her voice is malevolence. staring into the sky, she lifts up her hand, causing the body to jump on its hind legs, twirling stupidly. another chuckle slips from her lips, reverberating all around me. “want back in?”  teasing. who does she think she is- who even is she? i growl. not as a dog. she smiles again, and with a snap of her fingers i am slingshotted back into physicality, gasping for air, breathing new air into new lungs. i come out twitching uncontrollably, trying to forget, need to forget, get out of place again. i shut my eyes tight and pretend nothing is real. nothing is real, it cant be. 

tsk tsk. “you’re not getting back out so easily, girl.” she growls, clicking her tongue. she does a quick pulling motion with her hand, and my body is suddenly flung forward with it. leashed. thrown into the armchair beneath her. i throw my hand at her face, without thinking, imprinting a bright red into her skin. i flinch. // add more here //

“who do you think you are, DOG.” she yells, my body wants to curl up into a ball. “i FIXED you, and you don’t even recognize who i am!” she presses and grinds the toe of her leather boot into my legs. into cuts i dont remember existing. i collapse the second pain courses through me. “you need me, girl.”

the air is choked out of me. ripped out exorbitantly. i trudge through the pain, look her in her perverse face and spit. bitch. she digs her boot harder into my leg. i squeal in a pitch i’ve never reached before.

“seems like someone needs some more time alone in her room-” she grins. the body shudders what does she even get from this? pleasure? what has she done to us? me. why is this so different. how can she make me be here? her hand pulling at the collar of my shirt jolts me out of thought. pinprick goosebumps run up my arm. body tics from the disembodied draft in the air. i am forced despite myself, dragged across dirty ceramic floors. i scream. i cry. i hit. i thrash. everything i can muster at once, leads to nothing. i remember the feeling of weight, yet she throws me from the floor into the back of the empty room with no effort. spine stings with anger. careless fucking-

“you’re gonna wish i had kept you disembodied. doll.” she leans against the doorway so non-chalantly. like im not quaking with pain. “i’ll make sure you dont forget this next time, at least.” and she pushes the door. 

i scramble on the floor fighting the pain surging through my joints, clawing at the floorboards to get to the door as it slowly closes. no use. closing, closing, closing, my ragged dirty fingernails almost reach it but fall just short. the last thing i see before the door closes and the darkness takes hold is her twisted, eldritch smile mocking me through the gap.

[becauseicantdecide]

The Harder They Fall

Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

Warnings: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Smut, Oral (F receiving), Knife Kink, Spitting Kink, Biting Kink, Enemies to Lovers.

Summary: Aemond and Aegon both yearn for their mother's approval. It angers them when she immediately meets and favours the Princess of Dorne. They come up with a plan that ensures their mother never says your name out loud again.

Dedicated to @pluvialpoet, @bitch-biblioklept

Merry Christmas 😘😘

"I wish she'd choke on that olive and die." Aegon utters viscously.

From his spot beside his brother, Aemond almost spits his mead. If he was a man with any less self control, he might have laughed.

Instead, he turns to where his brother is watching sourly, to his mother, talking animatedly with the Princess of Dorne.

He can't deny your beauty, though he may hate you with every fiber of his being, he cannot deny that dornish dress was made for you, that your expanse of exposed skin and well done hair is anything other than breathtaking.

It's a shame that he indeed, also wanted to squeeze the breath out of you.

"Mother lets her get away with too much," Aegon continues, breaking into his brother's thoughts, "She tried to suggest to me how I should ride my own dragon."

Aemond raises a precarious eyebrow in shock and amusement.

"The worst part is the fucking bitch was right."

You were truly, proof that the gods had a sense of humour. Why else would they send someone so blood- boiling and so beautiful?

Though Aemond doesn't supply any verbal agreement of his dislike for you, he acknowledges it silently. He ached to wipe that smug smile from your face.

~~~

You liked to torment, and the Princes of the seven kingdoms had made themselves easy targets.

Like now, Alicent had promised you her younger son would accompany you through the shopping districts of King's Landing, and you were having a fun time reminding him at every moment that he'd been lent out like a hired sword.

You stayed beside him, looking up with triumphant smiles as he looked needlessly bored.

"What do you think of this colour?" You say, raising a light blue fabric to your face so that Aemond could compare them.

The Targaryen simply sighs, doesn't glance at you and turns away.

You pout.

"You're not being a very good help, Prince Aemond." You say, walking around to stand in front of him. Under his eye twitches once in annoyance.

"Ah, perhaps the import of wine and rare fruits are not as important to the Royal Family as I thought." You say in sorrow, turning away, only to grin when you feel Prince Aemond grip your upper arm to pull you back.

"Is that a threat, Princess Martell?"

"Gracious no!" You exaggerate with a smile, "I'm simply pointing out that Dorne's supplies can't be that important with the way you treat me."

You think you could hear his teeth crack with the frustration.

A shiver of pleasure floats down your spine.

Finally, he looks at the fabric in your hand.

"I hate it." He says finally, releasing your arm.

You hum in appreciation, putting it back.

"What is your favourite colour?" You ask, moving to keep up with his lengthy strides, shaking your head politely when someone tries to beckon you into their shop.

Again, he doesn't respond.

"Prince Aemond-"

"-Princess Martell." He says in a clipped tone, stopping to turn to you, "I am just a protective hand. If you require an opinion, I suggest you ask your ladies in waiting. It is their purpose."

Oh, you loved playing games.

You keep your eyes on his, wondering what's under his eyepatch.

"Leila," you call to one of your ladies' maids, you hear her step forward expectantly, ready to assist.

You don't stop looking at Aemond.

"Can you inquire as to the Prince's favourite colour?"

If only looks could kill.

There's a moment before Leila decides to open her mouth to speak on your behalf.

"Pardon me, my Prince-"

Aemond cuts her off with a look.

Pushed too far, he turns, and leaves you in the streets, disappearing into the crowds before you can say another word. You admire the sway of his hair as he walks away.

~

Aemond wasn't surprised that you'd told his mother. Sitting in his room, staring out at King's Landing, he's not fazed by his mother's sudden intrusion.

"I can't believe you," she starts, "the Martell house is a well respected and important family, the least you could do is treat her accordingly."

"You're lucky I didn't kill her." He says easily, studying the people below. Her silence speaks volumes.

"I had sought to make a match of you two, but maybe I should spare her the trouble." Alicent informs.

Aemond swivels on his mother.

"You would wed me to that spoiled brat?" He asks in disbelief.

"She is nothing of the sort!" Alicent's voice heightens as she approaches, "She is kind, and well learned and incredibly creative and if you could see that you would-"

"-Never. I would never." He spends a moment deep in thought before quietly asking, "Why do you like her so much?"

Alicent moves to his side, tucking her hand under his chin to tilt his head up from where he's sitting. He allows it to happen, because this is his mother, his blood.

She looks at him, Aemond watches some type of sorrow move over the planes of her face.

"I think she could love you. Aegon- has been forced to marry for duty, and you get the chance to marry for something else."

Aemond rolls his eye.

"I would have been happier marrying for duty." He responds.

Her grip on his jaw tightens.

"Consider it your duty to me then."

"I'll think about it." He appeases. He'd already thought about it. He would marry you when hell freezes.

~~~~

Aegon was not faring any better with you.

He'd been having his merry time with a serving maid when you'd walked into the small nook they'd been hidden in.

You'd cleared your throat, and the maid- whose name he couldn't care to remember- had slipped away and ran past you with a rushed excuse.

An annoyed sigh slips past his mouth, looking at you with droll irritation.

You didn't even flinch, smiling at him when he approached you to walk past.

"Can I ask, Prince Aegon," you blurt, humour deepening when he pauses to give you an annoyed glance, "Have you ever been with a willing woman?"

The silence is both amusing and poisonous.

You don't expect it, but it doesn't surprise you when he grips your shoulder tightly, slamming you into the same wall he'd had the other maiden pressed against.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" He growl, leaning into your space, till your breaths intermingle, "I am a Prince of the seven kingdoms and you will not speak to me as if I am your equal." He hisses, and not for the first time, the anger in his violet eyes stirs something delightful within you.

You soften your voice, tilting your head up and continuing to meet his eyes in an attempt to look more alluring.

"I meant no disrespect, Your Highness, but there's only so many times you can have your cock sucked by an inexperienced, unwilling woman before it gets boring."

He moves a hand from pinning your shoulder to the wall to wrap his fingers around your throat. Your eyes flutter with the pleasure it brings.

"Perhaps I like my women unwilling and inexperienced."

"A shame," you hit back, "When the opposite could incite pleasure you've only ever dreamed of."

His fingers tighten around your neck.

"Are you offering?" He asks, reducing his grip to allow you to speak.

"You wish." You respond, and before another word can be said, you're raising your hands to knock his away from your body, pushing him back to a respectable distance.

He hits the opposite wall with a muffled thud.

"I'll remind you, Prince Aegon, that I am a lady, and I am capable of removing your hands from your wrists should you touch me again without permission." You move to walk away, pausing in afterthought to turn back to him.

"So, have a nice day, Your Highness." You say, bowing your head respectfully, giving him a small smile, before backing away.

Aegon doesn't understand how he feels for hours after. On one hand, how dare you threaten him? On the other hand, why did it make him feel giddy on the inside?

He blames it on his mother.

~~~~~

He knows what's coming when Alicent storms into his room while he's taking a bath.

"You will not touch Princess Martell again, do you understand?"

Aegon huffs, wiggling his fingers in the warm water.

"It was harmless really, I can't believe she told you that."

"Except that she didn't tell me, the maid you'd been forcing yourself onto did."

Aegon can't help the smile that grows on his face.

Alicent leans forward angrily to dash water into the prince's eyes. He grunts in displeasure, wiping at his stinging eyes.

"I am trying to create a union between her and Aemond, I would appreciate if you would keep your filthy hands to yourself." Alicent hisses.

Aegon laughs long and hard.

"Aemond will kill her the second they are wed, mother, she is a nuisance- so- well- wait- I don't know what I'm saying, go right ahead and wed them." He smiles deviously.

She frowns, sighing, she leans against the bathtub, deep in thought.

Awkwardly, Aegon looks down at his cock, thinking that having his mother here did not inspire the debauched activities he was hoping to get along with.

"Why do you both dislike her? She is exactly the type of person I'd hoped for."

Which was the entire premise of the problem. That you had walked into the castle and earned the favour of the Queen, affection her sons could never hope to attain.

What could Aegon say? That he despised you because she loved you? The words would only get him slapped harder.

Instead, a dangerous idea rears its head. One so dark and twisted that the very thought of it had probably damned his soul.

He waits until dinner, to speak it aloud to the only other Targaryen who understands.

~

You sit at the opposite end of the table, clothed in emerald green. A colour that emphasised the way Aegon and Aemond felt about you.

Aemond hated the way the jewels sat on your skin, he wanted to cover them in your blood, slit your throat open and watch in satisfaction as you struggled to speak another word.

You laugh at something King Viserys says, and Aegon yearns to watch you cry.

Finally, he turns to his brother.

"Killing her is not enough. I want her very name tainted." Aegon whispers.

Aemond smiles at the thought.

"What do you have in mind?" He asks.

Aegon thinks for a minute.

"What's worse that getting her pregnant out of wedlock?" Aegon asks.

Aemond already has the answer prepared.

"Making her want it." Aemond supplies easily.

Aegon looks over at his brother in surprise.

"I don't know why I get called mother's worst child when you're more devious than me."

Aemond sips his mead, deep in thought.

"That's because you always get caught."

Aegon laughs.

~

You'd managed to ignore the princes tonight, having tormented them enough for the day, you only sit back and enjoy dinner peacefully.

You listen to the stories Alicent's father, Otto, weaves, and you smile along or laugh politely where necessary. You explain the landscape of Dorne when asked, and you tell them about some of the customs.

You leave out the customs you know they'd find appalling, they could never hope to understand the way Dorne holds the pleasures of the body as an important aspect of life. That you'd read books on pleasure enhancement alongside your history books when you were ready for it. Your virginity had only remained intact because of your status, as a formality to your future husband, should he be someone outside of Dorne. You knew that these people would never understand that. There was too much currency placed on a young woman's maidenhead for your liking.

You blink, refocusing, realising that your eyes have been locked onto Aegon's face the entire time. He smiles, leaning in to say something to his brother while still looking at you.

It makes you a little nervous. What could they possibly be talking about? No doubt some plot to get back at you.

You liked the idea more than you cared to admit. Aemond was gorgeous and calculating, Aegon made you burn with your desire for him. You shouldn't be thinking this way of either man.

When dinner is finished, you find your way to the library with a cup of ale. The place is almost empty at this time of night, and you enjoy the feeling of being alone and reading books by candlelight.

The words are funnier when you're inebriated, and you enjoy reading the thoughts of maesters who have clearly missed the points of the subjects they're speaking about.

When you hear the door to the library close and locks, you look up in surprise.

"Prince Aemond." You greet, standing, bowing your head in acknowledgement. When you notice his older brother behind him, you nod your head again, "Prince Aegon."

Both men look like they're up to no good.

"Princess Martell," Aegon says happily, "reading so late at night?"

"Uh, yes, I'm- actually I was just finishing up." You say, looking back at the books sitting on the table.

"Oh, there's no need, sit with us, we'd like to see what you're reading."

You don't get a chance to protest, finding yourself sitting on the wooden bench with Aemond on your left and Aegon on your right, both men closing you in.

"Is this yours?" Aegon asks, gripping the half filled cup of ale, taking a sip before you can open your mouth to affirm. He puts it down beside you, and you swallow when he leans closer.

You try to lean away but Aemond is a solid wall behind you, and you find that you can't move too far away from Aegon.

"Don't you hate when people don't know their place, Princess?" Aegon asks, and you swallow when he rests his warm hands on your knees. You don't push them off, not wanting to be disrespectful too soon.

"I'm not sure what you mean." You say softly.

"No? I can give an example." He sighs, smiling still, when you try to turn away from him, his fingers hold onto your knees harder to keep your attention.

"Aemond here is a Prince of the seven kingdoms. Third in line to the throne, rides the largest dragon in the world." Aegon's eyes illuminate with amusement, "Do you think he should act as a sellsword because the Princess of little shithole wills it so?"

You swallow, the level of trouble you're in finally sinks into your head.

"I only asked-"

"-You only asked," Aegon hisses, "and my mother agreed." He reaches up to grip your jaw, "What sway you must have on her, what influence."

You raise your hands to push him away, but before you can, Aemond has grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind you. You make a little sound of surprise, wiggling in an attempt to get out of his iron grip to no avail.

You turn your head to the side, taking your jaw out of Aegon's grip angrily.

"How dare you put your hands on me." You say lowly, struggling still in Aemond's grip, his breath in your ear, "Let me go."

Aegon laughs.

"It's time you learned, Princess, that you cannot have everything you want."

When Aegon kisses your collarbone, you gasp in surprise. He tugs your night dress a little lower so that he can trail his mouth from one clavicle to the other.

"Stop this, Aegon." You plead, trying to pull away from him.

"What's the matter, Princess?" Aemond whispers in your ear, your heart picking up its pace at the sound of his voice, "Don't like being taken advantage of?"

You whine.

"A little help, brother?" Aegon asks, and you feel Aemond's hand grip your jaw, turning your head.

You make a quiet sound of displeasure when Aegon presses his lips to yours. You try to shake both men off but it doesn't work.

Aegon laughs into your mouth, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Automatically, you begin to kiss back, trying to grab any semblance of control you have.

Aegon's lips are soft and plush, he's gentle and commanding with his mouth all at once. It's easy to get lost in it, to forget where you are when you have his tongue pressing into your mouth to trace over yours.

You hum in bliss, getting lost and enjoying it,  only being brought back into your body when Aemond laughs in your ear.

"She likes it." He says when Aegon breaks the kiss, "What a whore." Aemond teases.

Your mouth drops open, you begin to struggle in his grip once again.

"Let me go." You grunt, and you try to pretend that hearing both brothers laugh lowly at you doesn't bring on a spike of arousal.

Aegon's eyes devour you, roaming over your body. His tongue traces over his bottom lip, and you feel like nothing more that a feast for the prince.

"Aemond," he says, eyes still caught on your chest, "Your knife."

Fear squeezes your throat.

"No way," you breathe, beginning to struggle when Aemond pulls a knife from his belt and gives it, hilt forward to Aegon.

You're panting, swearing, wriggling, but Aemond's grip is too tight, and you can't seem to get away.

It doesn't take much for Aegon to rip the front of your dress open. You suck in a deep breath to scream and Aemond quickly claps a hand over your mouth. You grunt behind it as you feel your nipples pepple in response to the open air.

"Fuck." Aegon breathes, and you close your eyes shut to avoid the way he admires you.

The knife drops on the table, you whimper behind Aemond's hand when you feel his brother cup your breasts.

"She is... as magnificent as I thought she'd be." He whispers in reverence.

You jerk when he pinches one of your nipples gently.

You don't see his head dip, but the next thing you know, his tongue laves lazily over your breast.

You can't resist a muffled moan.

You give another shake of your shoulders, not trying as hard to escape Aemond's grip.

You can feel your toes curl in your shoes, Aegon is gentle and precise and you shiver at the feel of his hands and his tongue on your body.

When you can do nothing more than relax, Aemond takes the opportunity to tilt your head to the side so that he can meld his lips to yours too.

It's almost too much, one Prince licking over your breasts, swirling his tongue over your skin, the other, delving his tongue deep into the hollows of your mouth, redefining every thought in your head. Your eyes closed shut, trying not to enjoy the rapt attention you're being given.

Aegon pinches your nipples firmly and you gasp in pain, swiveling your head to meet his eyes in betrayal, but all he does is lean forward and capture your lips.

"You don't have to do this." You whisper, as Aemond kisses your throat and Aegon kisses your lips.

"I do, Princess. You give me no choice." Aegon answers and you don't get a chance to respond as you feel Aemond's teeth sink into the skin of your neck.

Your entire body shudders, with bliss you can't process, you shake violently, pressed between both men.

"I think the whore likes being marked." Aemond observes. You whimper in disagreement.

Aegon cups your cheek, leaning in so that he's almost hovering above you. You look up at him with pleading eyes, he tilts your head so that he can see the mark Aemond has placed on you.

"What will they think, Princess," Aegon tuts, "When they see you all marked up tomorrow? How quickly my mother will cast you out."

"N-no. Please-"

"If only you'd been nicer, less of a brat. Maybe we could have gotten along."

He turns your head back to face him.

"Open your mouth."

You frown, shaking your head.

"Aemond." He says, and you feel a hand on your jaw, squeezing tightly and you can't help the little sob that leaves your throat.

Aegon reaches for the cup of mead. He takes a long sip just as Aemond works your jaw open.

Aegon leans in, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he lets the mead from his mouth slip past his lips and into yours.

Aemond chuckles behind you, clamping your mouth shut, and covering your mouth and nose with his large hand in an attempt to force you to swallow.

You do, gasping for air when he takes his hand away, not liking the sound of their devilish laughter at all.

"I'm going to kill you both." You hiss.

It only makes them laugh more.

"Hear that, brother?" Aegon says, reaching to cup your breasts in both hands and press them together, "She just threatened us."

"I do believe that counts as treason." Aemond murmurs.

"To which the punishment is death, but I'm sure we can come to some arrangement, can't we, Princess?" Aegon follows, his fingertips tracing down your ribs.

He grips the material of your skirt in his hands, bunching it up until it sits on your waist. Though you wriggle, he puts his weight on your legs, stopping you from kicking him away.

He pulls at your undergarments, reaching for the knife to cut them away, you whine, trying to garner some pity.

Next, he's pulling at your legs, until you're lying on the bench, Aemond holds your hands above your head, your body situated between his spread thighs.

You try to kick at Aegon, worried that he's about to take your virginity, but all he does when he spreads your legs is look.

After a moment, he laughs.

"How wet you are, Princess." He praises, you gasp when his thumb swipes over your little bud.

He takes his time, which is way worse that him being rough, his thumb rubbing at your center, pleasure swimming through your senses, until your thoughts are muddled. You sigh, mewling when he leans down, kissing the tops of your thighs.

This wasn't something you were aware men outside of Dorne could do.

Aegon is soft, doesn't rush his kisses on your skin and you wished you could pull your skirts out of the way to get a proper look at him between your thighs.

You definitely stop struggling when he presses his tongue to your center. Your mouth parts in surprise. Was this supposed to be a punishment?

You look up at Aemond, who hovers above, looking down at you with something akin to amusement. You close your mouth, trying to mask the way you feel from him.

As if that was ever possible.

"How does she taste?" Aemond asks, and you burn with the way he talks about you like you're not in the room.

It takes Aegon a moment to raise his head from between your legs.

"Like nectar." Is all he says, burying his face in your cunt once more.

He licks you till you're trembling, his tongue dancing on your heated centre, your thighs wrapped around his head. The candles that you'd brought in with you have been significantly burned down, and you can only speculate that it's somewhere near midnight, and yet, Aegon keeps tasting you, drinking from your centre in an almost desperate manner that makes you want to moan.  You bite your lip so hard to stop from making any sound that you can almost taste the iron of your blood.

All the while, Aemond looks at you, his eyes devour every expanse of your skin and you think that his eyes alone is stimulating enough, but then he's reaching out, fingertips tentatively grazing your soft breast.

His touches grow more firm, and he's rolling one stiff nipple between his fingers before moving over to the next.

You whimper, kicking your legs in useless frustration. Aegon's tongue begins moving faster and you can't fight either brother and at this point you don't want to.

Your orgasm knocks the breath from your lungs, you feel your womb clench deliciously as pleasure swims through your system. You make pitiful noises of pleasure, hands in tight fists, trembling as both boys pause their torment.

After a moment, you feel your senses slowly begin to come back to you.

"The way you gush Princess," Aegon murmurs, eyes still locked on your center, "puts whores to shame."

A sad, needy sound leaves your lips. You can feel an indent on the inside of your lip where you'd been biting a little too forcefully.

"What do you think, Aemond?" The prince asks, "Has she been used well enough today?"

The man in question looks down at you, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You don't move, confused at what they planned to do now. Would they take turns fucking you?

"I think she has." Aemond says, breaking you out of your desperate thoughts.

Before you can register anything, both Princes have stood, leaving the room with soft steps, closing the door behind them.

You sit up, confused and disgruntled and wondering what happened to make them stop. It takes you a moment before the horror of realisation overtakes you.

What had just happened?

.

.

[writingsofwesteros]

Jace starts trying to egg the Lady Bastard to manhandling him again (we can just say this is a Team Black Wins AU so he’s definitely of age, but still inexperienced).

She won’t touch him like he wants her to. He’s getting hard as they fight and argue. And she’s knows it. When he finally gives up on it, she corners him out in the gardens of Dragonstone during a feast.

Jace is pressed against a statue of Balerion, his breeches around his knees. Her hand gripping his length. “How dare you touch me, I’ll have your head for this.”

“If you’re so disgusted, why are you whispering? Don’t want to be interrupted?” His hips buck as she adds pressure to her strokes. “If I had waited any longer to touch you, would you be humping my shoes, pup?”

His head rolls back and he grits his teeth, “I think it is you who is desperate. Stalking me till I am alone just to… take advantage… ah!”

She shocks him when she kisses his throat. Her lips open and she sucks a harsh mark next to his Adam’s apple. He whines. “You’ve got a nice cock, Your Grace. It’s big. Long. Has a curve to it… but you can’t last much longer can you? I’ve only just started to touch you and you’re messing yourself!”

Jace opens his mouth to hurl an insult but is interrupted by his own orgasm. His seed spills all over her hand and wrist. She wipes his spend against his naked thigh, “Hardly last long enough for me to get wet… if you want my attention so badly, I’ll need you to actually try. No more treats until you can show me a trick.”

He’s panting, humiliated, still so horny. He wants to choke her till she’s blue. He also wants to fuck her like the bitch she is. He wants her to be so fucked out of her mind that she’s sorry. His cock twitches, but he needs more time. She sees it and laughs, reaching around him to grope his firm ass “Need help pulling up your britches, pup?”

Jace shoves her back and pulls up his pants. They snag slightly on the cum she smeared on his thigh. He storms away, her laughter growing faint.

Oh Jace is just being tortured and it's the hottest thing ever.

He hates that he seemingly can't last long, something he blames her for it. It's not his fault her touches bring him close to the edge quickly. Not that the Prince would ever admit to such a thing.

She watches as Jace stumbles away; the music and chatter of the feast becoming louder as she sucks on her cum covered fingers.

Oh, she's going to have so much fun with him

[themotherofblood]

Prologue . 2 | RIVER OF FIRE | The Heir | D.T x READER x R.T

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 1

tw: child birth, death.

a/n: thank you to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for beta reading this!!

~ will we ever learn, we’ve been here before. it’s just what we know ~

“I refuse, I refuse to have a child, ever. No lord husbands nor knights shall put a babe in me. She is gone, just as my mother did. Septa Marlow went on about what a joyous thing it was to be with child. She is a septa, what the hell does she know about having a child? What joy! death by childbirth. Though I suppose Viserys had his son for mere moments, Rhaenyra is torn. Asleep in my bed after Maester Mellos gave her tea with Nightshade. I sang to her, the very song Aemma did to me. She is gone, I just don’t believe it yet.

“If I give you this, you promise you’ll win?” you raised your hand to show Daemon the crown you were weaving. Made of blue crystal hibiscuses, mint leaves and gold threads. Already dressed in yet another blue gown and hair braided into a neat crown to match Rhaenyra; you sat making your favours instead of worrying for Aemma. You and Rhaenyra wanted to be with her, but it wasn’t proper nor was it a comely place for young girls to be. 

Instead Viserys had Daemon steer away the two of you to make your favours for the Heir’s tourney, he had been particularly worried. Now with a boy likely on the way, Daemon would have to find another damned position at court to remain at King’s Landing rather than return to his lady wife in the Vale. So sitting here with young - impressionable princesses and watching them prattle on about fabrics and knights at court was a far better outcome than Daemon had hoped for. “Is that a deal you wish to make? A victory for a crown of- blue flowers?” he folded his legs together to sit on the carpet with you. Watching as your fingers worked the threads to lace the crown together. “What if I had hoped for another lady’s favour?” 

You looked at him, offended and lips parted as you clutched your crown. “I- should have you-“ your frown deepened “I have made this, by hand, with my gold threads. From Lys!” you said, jutting out word after word “it has blue hibiscuses, not roses like all the other ladies you wish to woo have,” Daemon raised his palms in surrender, already feeling the warmth of aggravation bubbling from being barred from visiting Aemma before her labours began. 

“You get the champion's purse, you help me buy a dagger,” you lowered your voice to relay your plan of sheer mastery to Daemon.  

“What use do you have for a dagger,” he whispered back,  equal parts amused and confused. He couldn’t picture something so small and dear wielding a blade - to what? Use as decoration? “am I to be an accomplice for homicide- princess I am the Lord Commander of the City Watch,” 

“And you are Daemon, perhaps it is you I shall stab first,” you scowled at him once more before pulling yourself up to answer the knock at your door.

Rhaenyra returned from her chambers, dressed in a red gown and hair done like yours with her favour of red calla lilies, “Why is she scowling?” Rhaenyra asked her uncle, fully aware that Daemon might have found another quirk to tease out of you. Nyra, having been the witness of many such rage-fuelled rants, looked at you confused as you stood with your hands on your hips and cheeks full. 

“She plans a homicide, niece,” Daemon coughed to hold in his chuckle. The twitch in your eye made him highly aware of the many objects to your reach that you could hurl at him. “Who is your victim, sweetling? Marsha Tarly?”

“What-?” Rhaenyra looks between her uncle and you, she wouldn’t put you in the category of homicidal people but she wouldn’t put it past your defensive nature. 

“I just want a dagger, and now I’m being framed a murder by your- sweet uncle,” you hurled your doll at Daemon. “You should worry about winning the tourney first? We have a deal?” you motioned to the doors of your bedchamber. Daemon chuckled one more, placing the doll on his lap on the chaise before taking his leave. 

“Is it so odd that a girl must want a dagger?” you turned to Rhaenyra, exasperated at Daemon's teasing, “merely want one, that’s all.”   Your lips pouted as you reached up to kiss Rhaenyra on the lips. A quick peck that she entertained and returned.

“How are you, truly?” you asked her, the goosebumps of anxiety still littering her skin as she worried for her mother. 

“It will be Visenya, I know it.” she replied, pulling you down to sit with her on the chaise. Her blonde brows furrowed to a line and you wished to soothe away whatever discomfort she was feeling. . Albeit, she would never show it on her face. You embrace her tightly and let your head rest in  the crook on her neck. The only way you could show her that you would be here, you would be with her always. 

“Should we head to the tourney  grounds? Let your  people set their eyes upon the Realm’s Delight?” you kissed her cheek as she blushed, and swatted your shoulder at the mention of her title. You knew she loved it even if she pretended not to. 

“We should give you a title too,” Rhaenyra said as she pulled you up, “Oh let’s see, how about….Pain In My Arse.” She  giggled as she watched  your  curious smile turn to yet another scowl before  you shoved her back. 

“Rhaenyra,” you whined, sensing as if she had joined in her uncle’s torment of you, “Must you poke me too?” 

“Ah, forgive me duck,” she held your face to press a kiss on your nose before dragging you out of your bedchambers. 

The festivities  had already begun as the muffled announcements of Viserys echoed from the balcony. The two of you hiked your skirts up and sprinted to race to make it to your seats first. Rhaenyra kissed her father’s cheek as you smiled at him before taking your seats. Plenty of nobles filled every seat in the Game Grounds, all the houses you were forced to remember with their sigils and words. Baratheons fought Tarlys while low-born knights fought nobility with one in particular standing out, Ser Criston Cole.

The man, unhorsing man after man  as his opponents tested his mettle. Rhaenyra looked curious for this could be another knight for the two to fawn over. You had situated yourself in between and Alicent as you chatted about courtly gossip yet again. Men fought and fell and all you could think of were the poor horses being harmed by the jousting. You would rather they participate in a Contest of Arms. 

The knights lined up once more to present themselves on the whims of the Prince of the City. Daemon rode in on his black stallion that Rhaenyra had named Alastor for him for he was tall and dark. Had he not been so particularly annoying at times, your childish heart might have fluttered at the thought of him. However, he  was far from the gentile knights in your books, a knight surely - aye, an arrogant but pretty one. 

“The Prince cannot be allowed to act with such unchecked impunity,”

Impunity my arse

The Maester had timed Aemma’s labours perfectly to the week of the Heir’s Tourney. Daemon worried for his good sister though the fallout of mourning he couldn't handle. He had occasionally wondered if he were to have another dead niece or nephew that he would help name and bury. Then Otto Cunttower found his perfect opportunity to yet again wedge himself between the brothers.Daemon pitied Visery forhe could stare at the blasted throne for hours and still not find the shred of tolerance Viserys had for the Hand’s nonsense. 

He was sure to put Otto’s impunity in check by planning to have the cunt’s own son tossed from his horse, talk about my impunity then.

That and he had truly hoped to win the champion’s purse for Mysaria even though he  made a fruitless bet that he regretted, for you the small princess that begged him for a dagger. Therein lay the truth, you wouldn’t stab Marsha Tarly of two and twenty, but  your eyes may still try to bore daggers into the dim witted girl’s head. 

As he rode to the Painted Bird to visit Mysaria, he mind did wander to daggers that would be appropriate for you and perhaps even is niece. . Could a fucking swordsmith even weld pompels of delicate flowers and kittens? His head toiled on such things as he drank some more. Having won multiple of his brother’s tourney before, a match would be of little challenge. The blood and violence sang to his animalistic desires  as he entered the brothel full of gold cloaks. 

“The Prince has arrived!” Tarbyk? - Torbk exclaimed, buried deep in a common whore of brown hair. Daemon  looked for Mysaria with a smirk on his face. 

“Ready to prepare for yet another victory, my prince,” she kissed his neck, offering him a cup of ale, “shall we drink! For the Heir’s Tourney!” 

Another round of hoots and hollers followed as Daemon revelled in the disarray of it all, the smell of cunt, ale and incense upon the thick day air in the house. Mysaria settled herself on his lap,preening through and through. Mostly Daemon admired her swan-like neck, spending hours just marking her up with his lips and suckling away at the sweet almond oil rubbed on her skin. 

“Do you truly wish to make your Bronze Bitch, Queen?” Mysaria whispered as she nipped at his lobe. 

“Should I have you be my queen instead,” he wryly asked, his purple eyes fixated on her brown ones. 

She cackled, full bellied before burying her head in his shoulder “I’d rather be gelded my prince,” 

Daemon’s eyes held a yearning sense of mischief, unable to sexually satisfy himself let alone his gorgeous paramour in white. He planned to make a present of unyielding peaks tonight to her, fucking away the truth that come morrow he would yet again have to fight for his place to remain at court, by his brother, in his home and with his family. 

As he arrived at the Tourney grounds, the smell of victory and coppery blood already lingered in the heir. His prized stallion Alastor awaited another pleasant win for he was to remain uncontested at the jousting fields. You are a dragon, you are fire. He closed his eyes, whispering the words his mother once said to him before pushing his reins to ride forth as the Game Master announced his titles. 

Shrill screams of women and based shouts of men echoed, muffled under Daemon's helmet as a knowing smirk crept up onto his lip, this was home, this was his kingdom. A place where he was far better than his brother, he looked to the balcony where his brother sat, proud and crowned. Heir’s Tourney, he was sure to give the people of King’s Landing a spectacle to remember. 

Daemon trotted down the line up of knights, Baratheon, Tully, Stark, Mooton, Serret, Hightower- Hightower. He pointed his lance at Gywane Hightower, wishing it was Otto’s head instead as he picked his opponent. The Game Master yet again announced his choice as both men rode for the balconies, what he expected was to have his lance decorated in the blue crown you made. 

The girls all huddled to the iron bar, leaning down to look at the knights, unaware which one was to give their favour to who. Though appeared prepared as you walked to position yourself in front of Daemon. The deal you had struck with him seemed to have been taken very seriously by you. The Hightower born instead opened his mouth as he called for you.

“I would humbly ask for the favour of the Princess of Dorne,” he projected, the tip of his lance resting by where you stood. 

Why this cunt-

He would lose, you knew it, Rhaenyra knew it and Daemon knew it. Your straightened shoulders slumped in defeat but the polite smile on your face never faded as you slid the crown down his lance. “I wish good fortune to you, Ser Gywane,” you said, looking at Daemon apprehensively.

Though he knew the sweet thing you were, you’d never ask him to lose, though win or lose. It wouldn’t matter for your wish of a dagger would be diffused regardless. Daemon rebuttals with the only other thing he could as he looks to Alicent peeling away at her fingers. 

“Now…” he trotted forward to where Alicent stood. “I’m fairly certain I could win these games Lady Alicent. Your favour would all but assure it” strike of gold as the young lady turned to look at her father before flinging down her favour at Daemon. Who knew he would get to maim Gywane Hightower with his own sister’s blessing. “I shall keep my promise,” he said to you before viciously eyeing the blue crystal- blue flowers upon Hightower’s jousting pole.

Daemon thereafter rode to his end of line, he stretched out his neck one and then twice, you are fire, he looked to his side, crowd murmuring in anticipation, the ladies enthusiastically leaning over the bars. Daemon took another breath before nudging Alastor to attention and charging forward. He tested the green knight once, feeling the jousting pole gash against his armour as he traced the other end. 

Daemon quickly drifted around, reaching for another pole before charging yet again, come to me motherfucker, his dirty trick of aiming for the horse’s legs sent Gywane Hightower landing on his face. Dirt covered and no doubt bleeding, a broken nose mayhaps? 

He looked up to the stands once more, seeing the disdained glare decorate Otto Hightower’s face. Satiating Daemon’s monstrous hunger as he trotted away to prepare for the next round. 

You looked away, the second you heard the horse screech and topple over, poor thing. Alicent silently gasped, watching her brother fall over as both you and Rhaenyra grabbed one hand each to comfort her.  She had bitten away at her skin with blood pooling around her fingers, you couldn’t watch either being sure that you’d grow sick from hearing another horse cry. 

“Come with me,” you whispered in her ear, pulling her up with you as you exited the stand while rubbing your belly to soothe it. You both ventured to the Godswood instead, Ser Darklyn followed at your heel until you sat with Alicent under the Weirwood tree. 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” you gave her a sympathetic smile “only the gods will know what joy men find in these cruel games.”

“He will be fine, I think.” Alicent mindlessly traced her fingers on the lace of her light blue dress. “We match today,” she pointed out. 

You looked at your dress and then hers “I suppose we do, blue is a wonderous colour.” 

“You are to have your hems dropped soon, any chances of your dressing turning mustard?” she asked with a knowing look to her eye, a question you had been asked multiple times before. 

“Maybe..?” you groaned before laying against a section between the roots “if I visit Dorne for the Voyage Day festivities, I am sure my brother would send me home with a crate of mustard and orange dresses.” 

You, in a childish rage, had sworn off the mustard the moment you arrived on the Blackwater shores as ward, when Aemma took to acquiring things for you to appeal to your spirits. You had all your mustard gowns donated for shades of blue, the ones that reminded you of the beaches at Old Palace. There even is a galant vessel named after you, docked at the Blackwater ports in Dragonstone. She sails on every one of your name days, though the Blackwater is far too murky to swim unlike The Sunset Sea. 

“You ought to stop doing that, you won’t have fingers anymore,” you gestured at her fingers as she shyly hid away. 

“I can’t seem to stop…” Alicent mumbled, averting her eyes elsewhere. 

“Maybe twirl you twist your rings instead?” you suggested, they often worked to soothe the anxiety in your chest whenever you visited court or in this case had to sit through brutal games. She nodded, looking at her own rings. You both thereafter sat in silence, it was comforting, it was home as your companionship remained true even years after. 

The muffled shouts from the Game Grounds still reached your ears as you basked in the sun, the slow wind lulling you to a slumber as you had risen far too early today for your liking, you could sleep all day if it were allowed. However today brought on a different exhaustion, in the back of your mind all you could think of Aemma labouring. Toiling if Rhaenyra, Alicent, Laena and you had decorated yet another crib to mourn a child. The egg that awaited this child at the nursery’s hearth, mayhaps it would have a rider. 

“Did you know Lady Marband is hiding a belly?” Alicent spoke up after a while. 

You giggled, nodding to agree. “Oberya told me, here I thought she was getting fat.”

“She is already fat,” Alicent sniggered as you giggled once more.

“She does look beautiful though, the motherhood glow I suppose,” you looked up at her “do you know who?” 

“My pin money is on Lord Massey’s eldest,” she shrugged. 

“No…no?” you laughed, unable to imagine a whore monger like him being wed, the stories of the women in his bedchamber was well known by every brick upon the Red Keep. “Are we sure it’s not the younger one?” 

“Have you ever seen him not look purple whenever a lady speaks to him?” Alicent raised a brow making you giggle once more. “He nearly fainted when Rhaenyra spoke to him once.” 

Rhaenyra sat within the merriments of the stands with her family, Laena now sitting next to her as they gushed about the games. Though every now and then a commoner or squire would wave at the young princess, to which she would politely smile back. Daemon had torn through the lot of the combatants, and as was expected. Having nearly slain two knights, and broken bones of many others as he kept up with his eccentric tricks on the field. 

All of whom were left was him and Ser Criston Cole, this might have been one of the most exacting moments. Perhaps her dear uncle would finally meet his match.

“Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of the City.”

Ser Criston lifted his visor as he approached the stands, lifting his lance at Rhaenyra “I was hoping to ask for the Princess’s favour,” he huffed breathlessly. 

Rhaenyra smirked at Daemon before obliging and slotting her favour down Criston’s lance “I wish you luck, Ser Criston.”

She was far to enthralled by the fighting as the men wasted away two jousting poles before Criston unhorsed Daemon, the fighting continued by hand and while she felt a sting of guilt for favouring against her uncle, it would be an amusing thing to witness Daemon Targaryen finally be bested.

The ruckus behind her was completely forgotten as first Otto Hightower left and then her father King Viserys. In her excitement, she cheered by the bars, clapping along and hooting with Laenor by her side. Blow after blow and still the tension was amiss to her. The Small Council dispersed after, following behind the whispers of the servants. 

Aemma’s screams had long stopped echoing from Maegor’s Holdfast, merely an interchange of midwives carrying towels and basins of water. You had noticed the shuffling down the corridors first, the cheers from the games were still far too loud for the attendant to be filling the halls already. You frowned at Alicent before standing up, your curious mind begging you to follow. 

“I shall return in a moment,” you told her with a confused expression covering your features, she nodded before you could leave. 

As the servant girls began running up the stairs to the Holdfast, excitement grew in your belly. Perhaps the new babe was here, mayhaps a girl to add to your flock. Just as you turned the hallway, your eyes found servants with bloodied towels and sheets in their hands. Basins of pink water covered in pulp like mess, you froze, this was so much blood. It stained the cream of their tunics as they carried these sheets away in a hurry. 

You would have rushed up the stairs to Aemma’s bedchambers, instead you were met with distraught Rhaenyra being pulled out of the stairway by Ser Westerling, he passed a knowing look to Ser Darklyn who was prepared to catch you from running up those stairs. 

“Rhaenyra?” you questioned, you held onto her shoulder but she just kept sobbing. 

“Princess perhaps you might resume to your chambers,” Ser Darklyn requested from behind you. You followed Rhaenyra all the way to your shared quarters. 

“She is dead,” Rhaenyra cried in your arms as you hugged her on the divan, the tears that should have been coating your face too seemed to have disappeared entirely. You just held onto Rhaenyra, that’s all you could do. Alicent did all the consoling, cooing and talking Rhaenyra through her grief. 

Your tongue felt heavy, you had known loss before but this was raw. You had seen her just last night, she laid a kiss upon your cheek before bed. She wasn’t your mother, but she was more, she was Aemma. You would have thought that Viserys would have come to visit but he never did, even as the glaring moon graced her skies. 

The Archmaester himself brought along a tea with Nightshade to help Rhaenyra sleep, her crying found no end until the tea was coaxed into her. Rhaenys visited once, as you succumbed to a slight doze when she grazed her hand upon Rhaenyra’s head. You had awoken to her shushing you back to sleep and squeezing Alicent’s hand. 

You awoke within the early hours of day, the servants filling out to light the candles, your own handmaiden along with Alicent and Rhaenyra’s awaited in the receiving chambers, in your bed chambers a black gown awaited you. 

“Do I have to?” You looked to Sona, she softened her eyes, holding the gown up. 

“It is proper, highness,” she shrugged.

You emerged from your bed chambers to the dining hall, though it was slowly being filled with food. Not a soul loomed in the room, you sat in your chair, frowning hard as you pulled your feet onto the chair. Finding no use of appropriate posture in an empty room. 

“Princess,” Daemon snapped you out of your dazed thoughts. 

“Daemon.” You acknowledged as your frown softened, you pushed your feet off the chair to resume a more ladylike stance. He too dressed in black.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his own voice hoarse from the games yesterday. 

You hadn’t given much thought to how you felt, in truth you weren’t sure if the sensations with you even realized you had truly lost someone. “I- I don’t know.” You shook your head. “You?” 

Daemon grunted rather than replying. It was only then it dawned you to ask the question. 

“Is it a son?” you asked, unsure if this was an inappropriate time. 

“Was a son,” he replied before looking away. Having not more of an answer to give to you. “Rhaenyra?”

“Asleep, Mellos gave her Nightshade,” you said as a matter of fact. Yet again silence graced the room as you tried to nibble away at some melons. A son, was a son. What was the point? Then you felt it, the harder you thought the bile began to rise to the back of your throat. You were sure your palms were growing hot. 

“I know what I feel…” you whispered, making Daemon look at you. “Angry, I feel angry.” At two and ten, you lost yet another mother. All so a man would have an heir (heirs) your eyes watered in the rage you felt. 

“I have to go help Rhaenyra dress.”

on ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/47686021/chapters/120437398

taglist (comment/asks/dm to be added) 🩵

[kingaegond]

Death! Aemond x Reader (A timeless kiss)

Warnings: Modern AU, death tw, suicide tw, blood, religious themes, angst, fluff, +18 (please do not read if you find any of these themes uncomfortable)

She layed on the ground as she felt the weight of her body to be extremely crushing. She wanted to pick up her limbs but her body weighted so much, she tried her best and she was able to stand up.

She looked around as she saw her body laying on the floor, blood pouring out of her nose and a gash on her head. She placed her fingers under her nose and there was no blood, then she placed her fingers on her head, where her gash should be, but there was no blood, no pain.

Around her, a chaotic sight, her car had turned around and was squashed, paramedics running around trying to bring her back. As she tried to asess what was happening, she heard the sound of thunder although, there was no rain.

Suddenly, a man appear before her, he was completely beautiful and completely out of place. He wore a cloak and underneath a leather coat, with green embelishments, his hair was silver white and hung around his shoulders, his face beautiful and angular adorned by a blue saphire as one of his eyes, as the other shone a beautiful blue color that looked like the sea at midnight.

Before she could form any thoughts, he walked slowly but surely towards her.

-Hmm... - He said as he looked around.

-You must follow me, my lady- He spoke with a low, but gentle voice.

The expression of her eyes reminded him of that of his sister: Helaena and her hair was as dark as Alys's.

-Why? what happened? What did I... do?- She was doubtful.

-I think you know...- He said as he looked down at her body.

She heard another thunder and twitched.

-Do not fear, my lady. It's just Vhagar- He said.

She looked up and saw the dragon overflying the city.

-Am I going to hell?

-No, my lady. I'll explain on the way. Please. - He said as he offered her his hand, she took it and felt a sudden warm.

He led her through a forest and explained that they would walk together for 3 nights and 3 days as the Gods decided what to do with her. Vhagar would follow them on the sky.

As the first day passed, he told her his story. He was prince Aemond Targaryen of a land called Westeros. As his family went into war, he stuck to his duty and fought for his brother's throne, but soon the rage inside him called for Fire and Blood, and he and Vhagar killed more souls that he could count. He told her about Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, his beloved sister, whom he couldn't protect. He regretted the whole affair, now.

As they continued the walk on twilight, she kept inquiring about him and he felt he should end his story.

On his last day, he had parted with his lover: Alys Rivers. She had seen his future in the fire. He would die that day, slayed by his own uncle: Daemon Targaryen would plunge a sword through his eye and kill him, but he would die too.

As he heard her, he wished to be able to deny her, but he knew she was right, as she had been so many times before. Alys pleaded for him to stay, but they both knew what would happen if he didn't leave. Aemond touched her belly, kissed her and said farewell to his son.

All this time at war, he had lost himself. But that day, he wouldn't be Aemond the kinslayer, but the Aemond that stuck to his duty, he would die for his son, as he couldn't lay his life for Helaena's children. He felt that as much damage as he had caused, he could part this world with love in his heart and duty on his soul.

As he yelled soves at Vhagar and flew trough the skies one last time, Alys's visions came to past and he died, his body in the bottom of the sea, his blue saphire shining in the water.

He confessed to her that, as he had walked to his dead willingly and knowingly, the gods had comdemn him to this existence. He would acompany the souls of those who have passed as the gods ponder on what to do with them ultimately.

As such, he hadn't been able to see his sister, his brother, his mother or his nephews, nor his Alys, nor his son. He was unable to reunite with them for eternity. He explained that was the fate of those who seek their own death willingly and knowingly. But he explained, there were exceptions, his sister Helaena had been granted mercy by the Gods as her state of mind grew darker and darker after the death of her children and she was an innocent soul that had harmed no living creature, so Helaena was able to reunite with her children and her brother-husband and her mother.

He was told this by them, and he wished to believe them. Even if he couldn't say goodbye to his family or see them again. He wished to believe they were happy, at peace, far from war.

As they layed in the grass with the moon shinning above them, she heard his story with absolute attention.

-Why did you do it, my lady? - He asked.

-I didn't... I...

But she knew she couldn't lie to him. What use was in lying now?

-I don't know why, I saw the car coming, I could have hit the brakes or tried something, but i just wanted something to take me away... so I just let go of the car's wheel... - As she said this words, tears started to poor out of her eyes. She was sad, for him and for her. He would never see his family again and he would wander alone for the rest of times, would it be the same for her?

Aemond closed his arms around her and caressed her hair as her tears fell onto his leather coat. Now it was time for her to tell him her story, he listened.

They felt sleep in a peaceful embrace and before they realized, the dawn of the third day had come.

They walked the road ahead and as they reached the destination, Aemond explained that she would be as he was, that she musn't fear.

At that moment, she wished for the notion of time to dissappear altogether, she wished to stay with him as she had never felt so loved or understood while alive.

But he took her hand in his, and kissed her lips softly. The moment was sweet and tender and she wished to stay here with him forever, she pleaded with all her soul and all her heart. But she felt as the warmth of his hand dissappeared and the pulse of his lips on her was gone.

She opened her eyes and a tear came out. She blinked and saw a place she had never been to before. She focussed and saw her: Helaena, her silver blonder hair and blue eyes, just as beautiful as Aemond had described. A pool of blood at her feet.

She shook her head and walked to Helaena, she didn't allow Helaena to look down. She just told her that they would walked together for three days and then she would see her children again. Helaena smiled so warmly that she couldn't help to smile back. She told her that she would be reunited with her family, she would see Aegon and Alicent too. Helaena giggled and walker with her.

She would see Aemond again, she would make sure of it. She didn't know how yet but she would find out, she would see him again, she promised herself, as she told Helaena that her brother send his love.