#Your wish is my command. Dearest follower.
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This was requested, I hope everyone knows what the JackO pose is because I don’t wanna explain lolol
#Your wish is my command. Dearest follower.#art#fanart#my art#original art#cotl#cotl art#cotl fanart#cult of the lamb#cult of the lamb art#cult of the lamb fanart#cotl leshy#leshy cotl#leshy fanart#cult of the lamb leshy#leshy cult of the lamb#bishop Leshy#leshy#jacko pose#meme#meme redraw
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To Gwayne, with love
tired of being ingored and undervalued, you take your dragon and leave to find the one person who sees you for who you really are; your uncle, Gwayne Hightower
based of this request
word count: 5,086
CW: MDI, 18+, smut, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), incest, angts, love letters (if the title wasnt a hint), fluff, love confessions, not proofread!
Gwayne Hightower x neice!reader
Masterlist
Growing up as the eldest child, and eldest daughter of Alicent and Viserys you had long felt unwanted and overlooked.
Where your twin, Aegon, was seen as a future king, the rightful heir, you were seen as only a daughter, pushed to the side and out of the limelight.
Always looked over, even when it came to marriage. Where it made sense for you to marry Aegon, Heleana married him instead.
You were overlooked, and often forgotten.
Even events held in your honour were overshadowed, be it by your twin or your eldest sister Rhaenrya.
Countless nights tears had filled your eyes as you were pushed aside in favour of another sibling.
It was a funny thing really, you were the eldest daughter and yet were the last to be betrothed, excluding Daeron that was. And yet you had once been dubbed the Realms heart, you had been kind and sweet. But years of neglect, being undervalued and ignored had turned you cold and restless and made you a rebel. Where your uncle Daemon was the rouge prince, you were the defiant princess.
You had stopped waiting by the sidelines, stopped keeping too yourself and your thoughts stopped being quiet. you become outspoken, even more so when your brother was crowned king.
But all that seemed for nought as you were now meet with roll of eyes and the sound of the key locking your chambers from the outside.
You couldn’t say you were surprised, not when your mother seemed to hate you more than Aegon.
She never understood you, only one person had.
Gwayne Hightower, your uncle.
You and he had an understanding that others could only envy, you couldn’t put it into words but ever since you had meet him you felt inexplicitly drawn to him.
And yet you had only meet him thrice.
But those three times amounted into countless letters.
When one was sent two would follow, even on the road Gwayne never failed to write.
Until now.
You were sat in your chambers and an ache in your chest as you read through the last of Gwayne letters. Near two weeks had passed since his last had arrived, and these past two weeks had been when you had needed his letters the most.
dearest niece,
Words cannot describe the joy I felt upon seeing you the other, even if only for a few hours before my departure.
You have grown ever so beautiful, and I envy those who got to watch you became the beauty you are today, though I envy them more for the endless pleasure of your company.
Who knew your wit was even more compelling in person, dear niece?
I sure did not and yet your endless humour is known what I crave as I am stuck of this endless rode with ser Criston as the most interesting of my companions.
And let me tell you he is far duller than you painted. (Not that you painted him to have much of a personality aside form swords and a love for oranges.)
Perhaps it his cockiness or the self-righteousness he has as the new lord hand, which makes his so dull. He seems to love to point out his new station to us all, especially my Hightower knights, as if that will win him any favours.
Though I truly believe he thinks himself funny, though his voice is always far to monotone to decipher what is an attempt at a joke or what is orders and commands.
Gods, I wish I had stolen you away with me, even just to share the looks at Criston ‘jokes’ as he calls them.
Honestly, he is perhaps the dullest man I have ever met, what your mother sees in him I’ll never know.
But I must admit little of my time is spent completing his joke when I cannot stop thinking of you.
Tomorrow, we ride to rook’s rest, he says he has some plan, I do not quite believe it will be a good one, but I shall prey to the seven that we will be victorious, and I may see you again.
Yours, Gwayne.
You had replied far to quickly though being locked n your chamber after yelling you would ride your dragon to meet your uncle would of course leave you with little to do.
To Gwayne,
I am truly sorry you are stuck with such a dreadful man, if I had gone with you I can assure you however there would not have been much time to dwell of Cristons joke attempts, I would steal far to much of your attention, perhaps enough were you were unable to fight in this silly little war.
I do hope your thoughts of me do not distract you too much.
I wish you great luck in at rook’s rest though I fear you may have to face Meleys, and in which case I pray my mother sees sense and allows me to ride out and join the fight on moonfyers, though I Highley doubted.
But from Aegon’s visit to my prison cell (my chamber’s), it seems he is quite egar to fight, though seeing as how the small council so easily sway his mind, I doubt he will, unless he drinks himself into a false sense of courage that is.
But I pray you do not repeat those words, especially to my mother.
I too crave for your presence; it is a misery that despite years of letters we have met thrice! And the third was only days ago.
Perhaps when you go, we can make your visits permanent.
I pray for your victory uncle, and your next letter.
With love, your dearest niece.
You had sent that letter 12 days ago; rooks rest was 10 days ago.
Of course, the journey back must be accounted for, but no one had any news, besides the death of Meleys and the princess Rhaneys, the queen who never was.
You had rather liked her, in fact you hoped to model yourself of her in some way. Though you had no right to morn you suppose, you had never spoken to her bar the common pleasantries.
You stood starting out of the window, craving the day you could smash them down and make your escape. Though where you would go, you did not know. Before the war you had one destination in mind, oldtown. Now there was no one there for you, just as there wasn’t anyone here.
The forgotten daughter. No matter how defiant you became you would only be tolerated and ignored. Your actions simple receive a tolled eye and of course, the action of yet gain being locked in your chamber.
Perhaps if your mind hadn’t been so caught up in your loathing and thoughts of jumping from your window onto the back of moonfyers you would have noticed the door opening and the feel of hands slowly covering your eyes.
You jumped in shock as your eyes were covered, only to calm down when a voice spoke.
“Guess who?” a mans voice teased, though it was the voice you had ingrained into your memory.
“Gwayne” you breathed turning around.
He laughed as you hugged him.
“When did you get back?” you asked, arms still wrapped around him.
“Only moments ago,” he sighed, “did you miss me?” he teased.
Slapping his arm lightly, you stepped back “of course not”.
“Hmm…really?” he tilted his head, clicking his tongue, “I could have sworn your letter said- “
“Stop it!” you said hitting his shoulder again.
“Fine!” he said raising his hands up in mock surrender, “only if you top hitting my arm, your poor uncle has just fought a battle”.
You rolled your eyes “and am I to presume you were victorious uncle?”
“If you could call it that”.
“What do you mean?”
He looked nervous, an expression you had never seen on him before, “your brother Aegon- “
“Aegon went! That fool”
“a fool who got himself injured”.
“what” you asked, voice full of concern. Though an outcast, overshadowed by your twin, you still cared for him greatly, even if he never showed care for you in return.
He explained what had happened and your mind spun, no one had said a thing to you and yet your twin brother lay dying in his rooms.
“I must go see him” you rushed out, heading towards the door, only for Gwayne to grip your arm.
“Go later.” He insisted, “for now stay with me! and here my woeful tales of battle”.
Shaking your head with a laugh you sit back down, listening to tales of Gwanye’s journey and of the battle, and all thoughts of Aegon were forgotten.
You woke up finding yourself wrapped in Gwayne arms on your settee. You didn’t remember falling asleep, only talking and watching the sunset and rise once more.
It must have been past noon and yet no one had knocked or come to see you, not that they had before now.
You looked over at Gwayne, he was tired, even after hours of sleep he still had bags under his yes.
Removing yourself from his arms slowly, you made your way out of your rooms and towards your brothers.
Aegon lay alone. The room dark and empty, bar his aching, unconscious body, half his body covered in bandages, his body deadly slit and his breath shaky.
You moved closer to the bed, coming forward and placing a soft kiss on his brow.
He may be terrible, drunken whoremonger but he was still your brother.
“Aegon” you breathed heavily, taking his unburnt hand in yours, “I- “ the doors opened, and your mother barged in, “get out!” she demanded.
“Mother, I- “you said standing up.
“Get out” she said once more, coming to sit by Aegon’s side.
Standing up and moving towards the door slowly, “he’s my brother, I have every right to be here!”
She looked at you, scoffing “that matters not, now leave and go back to your rooms”.
Rolling your eyes you left and stormed back to your rooms.
“Gwayne” you breathed, seeing him now awake and sitting up, reading a book.
“How Is Aegon” he asked, as you approached.
“a sleep? I do not know my mother sent me out only a few moments after I had entered.”
He kissed his teeth, “your mother has changed much recently”.
“Recently? She has always been liked this, with me at least”
“I know, my darling… I think she- “he stopped himself, looking at you, “I am not sure what she thinks actually, me and her where never close growing up”.
You huffed, looking over at him and realising that the book he was reading was in fact your diary.
“Is that my diary!”
“no” he said dragging out the word as he moved the book out of your reach.
“Where did you- how did you”
“Do not worry how your “beautiful and daring uncle” found it”.
You gasped, crawling over him to try and reach your diary.
He laughed, as you grasped at the book, “give it back” you insisted.
“But Gwayne would be never- “
You reached the book, slapping it out of his hand, “how much of it did you read?”
“Why did you not want me to read of how much you missed me?”
“Gwayne” you sighed, looking at him, you were practically lying on him, your hands leaning on chest as you reached for your diary of the floor.
“darling” he replied, before looking at you sadly, his hand reaching to caress your cheek, “I have to go soon”.
“To your chambers or to oldtown?” you asked sadly.
“Oldtown, I – “
You interrupted him, “when?”
“We leave after dinner, we thought it best to travel at night, out of sight of dragons”.
“I see” you said moving off of him. He reached for you, trying to draw you back towards him.
Everyone always leaves or ignored you. It seemed no matter how close you got you were so easily abandoned, never once had someone stayed.
“I would ask you to come, but your mother would never allow it” he said shaking his head.
Why would she allow it? It would make you happy and the gods know how much your mother craved your misery.
“Do you think there will ever be a time when-when we can spend limitless time together?”
“I hope so, I- “he always stopped himself from saying it, saying the one thing they both craved.
“As do I”
The rest of the day was spent together craving to spend every second that they could together, but in the end, he had to leave. He was bound by duty and honour.
Saying goodbye this time was harder than the few times before it. You both stood in the courtyard, his men stood the side, their own conversations distracting them.
Your mother having said her goodbyes, and had left the courtyard already, leaving you both to say your goodbyes.
“I hope it is not to long before I can see you again” you said looking down to thew ground and kicking at the gravel.
“As do I” Gwayne said grabbing your hand and kissing it gently.
Your eyes shared a look, a look saying everything you both couldn’t.
“I’ll miss you” you breathed heavily, eyes never leaving his.
you both stepped closer, now inches apart.
You moved your lips to kiss his cheek, only for Gwayne to move his head and capture your lips with his, in a soft delicate kiss.
The shadows of the keep kept you had hidden from wandering eyes as you kissed.
It was short but sweet and left you both wanting more as he was forced to step back from you.
He whispered softly “I will think of you, always”.
“As will I” you said, reaching into you hem and pulling out your handkerchief, you had sown the initial of your name and his ono it, and placed it in the palm of his hand.
Closing is hand you softly placed a kiss onto it.
“goodbye” he spoke, before moving to his horse and riding off, sending you a final look before he left.
The days tricked by, blurring together. Aegon’s recovering slow and with little change.
You stayed in your room, much to your mother’s delight.
Letters were exchanged between you and Gwayne. But this time the letters seemed different, this time they were bolder, your feelings no longer hidden.
Dearest,
I left you only moments ago and yet I miss you already.
That kiss was everything and more, I cannot believe it took us so long to do it, even of it happened by a mistake.
I am sorry our reunion was so brief, and I wish I was bound to you and not duty.
I shall write again soon, but in the meantime, I hope the thought of you in my thoughts will tide you over.
Yours, Gwyane.
Dear Gwayne,
You just left my side and yet apart of me left with you.
I hope your thoughts are filled with me as mine are of you.
The walk back to my room was a long one, longer than it had ever taken me as I had to drag myself away from you, away from moonfyers as thoughts of chasing after you filled my mind.
My mind was a mess all night, much to my mother’s disappointment. Though I doubt she noticed my mind was with you and not in the keep.
This morrow I was awoken absurdly early and summoned to the small council!
And before you say anything I am not sure as to why, even after attending it.
I seemed to be there as a way to boost Aemond’s moral? Or should I say the prince regents.
I was simple them to watch plans be made, and to be told of an alliance, a marriage between me and some lords son, I believe some Tully.
I refused and they demanded.
I offered my dragon, they refused, and I demanded.
They claimed a woman in battle would only lead to a loss. Even if moonfyers is bigger than most for her age and even rivals Caraxes.
Anything else was ignored and dismissed and I was quickly ushered to my chambers and forced to plan a wedding.
A wedding I wish was with you.
I do not know what to do, uncle.
Please tell me to come to you, and I will.
Yours always.
My love,
The days are endlessly long, and I find myself craving you by myside more than ever.
You chase my every though both awake and asleep.
And forgive me for beings bold, niece, but I can, no will not hold back what I have longed to crave any longer.
I wished I had placed you upon my horse and ridden of with you into the night, defying your mother and brothers’ commands.
But I want you, more than I need air to breath. And for so long I have defied myself and held back my desires, my love for you.
I beg you, come to me.
Forget their plans and demands, come to me and marry me.
I am set to arrive in old town in two days, leaving you plenty of time to come to me.
With love, Gwyane.
To Gwyane,
I will come to you, it may take a few days, but I cannot stay here. And I will not stay away from you any longer.
With love, your heart.
you sat in your chambers, contemplation how you to leave.
Though there were secret passageways in your room, you had never used them. They were like a labyrinth in truth and the one time you had speed in them you feared you would get lost.
And the guards stationed outside of your door were stationed for the exact reason you were event you were currently planning.
your other would never let you go willingly, not now especially.
But then again you doubted she would notice you were gone, at least for a day or two.
Heleana may notice, but she wouldn’t say a thing.
Aemond had just been given what he always wanted and would flaunt his power as much as he could, meaning he’d keep put of your way, in fear you would ‘act up’, as he called it, and embarrass him.
This meant that the guards were your only issue, and perhaps Larys spy’s. though you cared not for them for what could they do to stop you? Tattle to Larys who would sell the information for the sight of your mother’s feet? Even then you would have a few hours.
Luckly for you however, you knew your guards. And they had a penchant for wine.
“Steffon, Gregor” you whispered opening your door a bottle of Dornish red in hand.
“Princess” they nodded, tuning around to ignore you.
“You must be bored” you started, “perhaps you can join me for a drink?” you said, fluttering your eyelashes.
They turned to face each other unsure of what to do, “oh come on, know one will care. You’ll still be guarding me, won’t you?”
Their eyes wandered to the bottle of wine “is that the only bottle, princess?”
You scoffed, “of course not”.
They smiled and ushered you in to your chamber.
It was funny, you must have done this a dozen time before and they still fell for it every time.
And being such lightweights, they were quick to fall into a drunken sleep, allowing you to grab your bag and make a run for the dragon pit.
Running through the streets of Kingslanding at night were dan, especially in your rich clothes and jewels.
And seeing as you had only walked to the dragon pit once or twice, with the company of a dozen guards, the run was a lot longer than expected.
Getting lost in the never-ending streets of flea bottom was easy, and before you knew it you had somehow ended up on the streets of silk.
“gods” you mumbled, looking around in search of a sign to lead you in the right direction.
You could see the dragon pit, so at least you weren’t too far away, only issue is the brothel with the name ‘Chantaya’s’ seemed to stand in the way of a quick exit.
“sister” you heard someone say, and the sight of Aemond exiting said brothel, through you into a sprint once again.
You were sure you looked like some pick pocket as you ran through the street, Aemond hot on your tale.
And with being such a stranger to kings landing you found yourself meeting an end and Aemond catching up to you.
“Let go of me” you muttered trying to pull yourself free from Aemond’s grasp.
“Who let you out” he sneered.
“Does it matter?” you sneered in return, “what are you even doing here?” you asked, and Aemond face dropped.
“I could ask you the same”.
“I wanted to go to the dragon pit” “the dragon pit” he reiterated, not believing you. “To what? Declare for the usurper?”
“Gods no” you near yelled, “I- “you were hesitant to tell him, having never got on along with him and never having much to say to him at all, this was honestly the most you and he had spoken since the start of the war. “I wish to go to oldtown”.
“why”
“To…to see Gwyane”.
“Our uncle?”
“Do you know of another Gwyane I could possibly wish to see in oldtown?” you said snidely.
He hummed, looking at you with a smirk, “I am your prince regent, I command you know” he said, “one word from me and I could have you locked in the black cells, or I could command you to go to oldtown to gather forces, with Gwayne”
You hated that you looked at him hopeful and hated even more that if he asked you would beg.
“But why, dear sister? Should I command you to oldtown? You are the future lady Tully after all”.
You scoffed, “oh please, we both know the Tullys are hardly loyal now and the second old Grover Tully dies they’ll declare for the black’s”.
“true”
“And why would you want me here anyway? I do not listen, and I defy your every move, sending me a way would better your rule, would it not?”
“Oh sister, you truly have been undervalued. Fine I shall take you to the dragon pit and order you to oldtown.”
Order you? As if there was a single part of you that did not already crave to be there, with him.
The walk to the dragon pit was a quiet and awkward, with Aemond pulling you by the hand, a tight grip as if you would try to escape.
Not a word was exchanged even as you entered, only your words commanding the dragon keepers to fetch you moonfyers and Aemond stood beside you in his usual stance.
He gave you a taunting wave as you took flight, and you never looked back.
It took five hours for you to reach oldtown.
A storm thundered as you entered the reach, rain dowsing your and obstructing your vison. Had it not been for the bright blue scales of your brother’s dragon, Tesserion you were sure you would have flown into the Hightower.
Landing, you were quickly greeted with guards and the face of your brother Daeron.
“Brother” you greeted as you slide of your dragon, “a pleasure to see you!”
“And you, Gwayne said you were coming” he nodded, hand raised to stop rain pouring over his face, “come in, quickly”
The Hightower, was exactly as you envisioned, filled with riches and symbols of the seven. It looked like a museum almost.
You were brough into a room lined with seats and walls filled with books. Painting filled with the faces of old lords and ladies, and tapestry depicting Aegon s landing in oldtown and his coronation.
“niece” you heard a voice breath, causing your inspection to come to a halt as you turned and faced Gwayne,
“uncle” you breathed in return and not a moment later were you running into his arms and your lips meeting once more.
This kiss was different than the one in the courtyard, this one was filled with longing, filled with pure love and desire.
Years of want filling you mouths your lips moved against each other.
“Gwayne” you whispered against his lips, as you both breathed heavily, your heads leant against each others.
He whispered your name in return, “you came” he breathed, not quite believing it.
“of course, you asked…and the prince regent commanded it”
He laughed “what?”
“when I was making my mistake i came across Aemond leaving a brothel” you laughed, “and somehow he decided to command me to oldtown to gather forces”
“oh?” he said, head tilting, “I see…does that mean you now command me?”
“do I not anyway?” you asked tauntingly.
He laughed, grabbing you to him once more and pulling you into another kiss, “I believe we command each other, my love” he said breaking the kiss.
“my love?”
“my love” he agreed, caressing your cheek, “I love you” he finally admitted.
And you smiled. Looking at him as he always looked at you.
He always had seen you, understood you when no one else did.
And the look in his yes, it was pure love and you had never felt more seen than in this moment.
“I love you” you replied, and he smiled.
“come with me” he said taking your hand and leading you up to his room.
His room, though perhaps smaller than others, was still large and full of all things Gwayne. With his own mural and tapestry.
“do you like it?” he asked, taking note of your eyes that had not left the tapestry he had commissioned.
“is that?” you asked, unsure if you were seeing it right.
“Moonfyer and you, yes”
“gods, Gwyane” you said breathlessly, a mural of you riding moonfyers for the first time, your second time meeting Gwyane and the first time you and he realised the bond between you both.
You turned to face him, and kissed him once more.
Unlike before this kiss was heated, passionate and full of lust.
His hands moved to your waist, as you slowly moved towards the bed, your hands reaching and pulling at his clothes, taking them of and leaving him in only his small clothes.
Your dress wet and soaked was quickly torn of you intern, leaving you only in your soaked chemise.
Their lips broke apart as her legs hit the bed. Taking each other in Gwayne moaned at the sight of your breast peeking out through the now sheer chemise.
“can i?” Gwayne breathed, hand coming to toy with the strap of your chemise.
You nodded, allowing your chemise to slip and leaving you bare before him.
“gods” he breathed, “ you are beautiful” he said, before pushing you down on the bed, his lips connecting with yours.
His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, nipping at your skin, causing you to moan softly.
He kissed his way down your body, before he reached your cunt.
“can i?” he asked once more, eager to taste her cunt.
“yes” you said, not quite sure what he intended to do until you felt his nose nudge between your thighs and a slow lick alone the length of your cunt.
groaning at the taste, he quickly went back licking and tasting your cunt, like a man starved. You moaned pleasure, hands moving to tug his hair as he found your clit.
Touching yourself had never felt like this, the sheer pleasure you felt as he sucked your clit into his mouth was better than any orgasm you had brought yourself to before, even more so when you felt his fingers toying with your entrance.
You tensed as his fingers entered you. They were thicker and longer than your own and you started to feel the stretch as he pumped you full of his two fingers.
You moaned, your body moving off the bed as you his fingers pumped in and out.
His hand moved to your waist gripping you down as he continued to fill you, your moans filling the room as his third finger entered you and you soon reached your peak.
He slowly backed away from you, pulling down his small clothes to revel his hard, thick cock.
“oh!” you spoke, at the sight of him.
“oh? Not good enough niece?” he asked teasingly.
“gods, it, yes” you nodded, reaching out to him.
He laughed, before slowly crawling onto the bed, his body covering yours. Taking your lips his, in a passionate and heated kiss, as his legs slowly parted yours as he positioned himself at her entrance.
“Are you sure?” he breathed against your lips, hand holding your waist as his cock teased your entrance.
You nodded, reaching forward to kiss him again, “yes”.
At the word he entered you slowly.
You groaned at the stretch but found no pain as he entered you.
His long cock filling you, a bulge appearing in your stomach as he allowed time for you to adjust.
“gods, you feel amazing” he groaned, moving his head to the nape of your neck “can I move?” he groaned, as your walls wrapped around him.
Nodding, “yes” you breathed. And wasting no time he began to slowly pump in and out of you.
You moaned as he thrusted into you, your hips moving to meet his as he picked up the pace.
He groaned at the feel of you moving against him, has hands gripping your waist as he started to thrust into you faster, he soon found that sweet spot inside you, that quickly turned you into a moaning mess. And soon you were wrapping your arms around him, clawing at his back as you felt your peak it washes over you and the feel if his seed filling you.
Your breath was heavy, his even heavier as he lay on you, his face still in your neck leaving soft kisses as he started to move of you slightly.
“marry me” he said, giving you soft kisses between his words. “this place is filled with septon’s it will be easy to find one to marry us.”
“okay” you said, looking into his yes.
“okay?”
You laughed, “yes, Gwyane I will marry you.”
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#house of the dragon#hotd#gwayne hightower x fem!reader#gwayne hightower x reader#gwayne hightower#house hightower#gwayne x niece!reader#gwayne x targaryen!reader#freddie fox#gwayne x reader#ser gwayne#hotd season 2#hotd spoilers#sacha writes ✍️
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dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me
dont go insane (lh44)
pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader
summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits
warnings: suggestive mentions
wc: 1243
a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man
[masterlist] [request]
“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.
the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag.
"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"
he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,”
"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.
“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”
more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.
“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.
“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.
on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…
"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."
the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"
oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.
you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously.
george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"
the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"
undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?”
your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.
max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”
"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.
max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."
as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."
"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.
"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.
“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.
there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.
being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)
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Can you write a Cregan Stark x Targaryen wife where she is readying to go to the battle since she is the rider of Cannibal and he is with her nervous and makes her promise to come back to him and before she leaves he tells Cannibal to take care of her, he is nervous the whole time that she is away only calming down when he sees her and Cannibal come back.
omg i love this 🥹 wc: 1.7k
warnings: reader is a targaryen (parents and family are unspecified), cannibal's rider, ooc cannibal, cregan loves his wife and will never stop, reader has silver hair and is shorter than cregan (its okay tho he's huge)
After being away all day, the only thing that Cregan wants is to be in your arms. He searches around Winterfell, looking to find a glimpse of silver hair. He finds you in your chambers, hunched over the small desk by the window.
The candle you had lit was almost gone and you didn’t hear him enter. He stalks over to you, noticing your riding clothes on the settee by the bed.
“Did you go out today, my love?” He leans over you from behind, kissing you on the cheek.
You are hesitant to respond, just staring at a message that had arrived this morning. Cregan takes a knee beside you, trying to read the message that has taken all of your attentoin grasped in your hands.
My dearest kin, the Hightower usurpers have taken the lives of the Prince Lucerys Velaryon and the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, along with their dragons. The Rogue Prince and his dragon still remain to be of any help in our time of war. The Queen remains cautious and Vermax is still much too young to be of great help. Baela is doing the best she can on Moondancer, patrolling the East ends of the Riverlands and the Reach, but we need more. My mother has recruited mongrels to ride Seasmoke, Vermithor, and Silverwing. We need you and Cannibal, here, on Dragonstone at once — a command from the Heir to the Iron Thone.
Cregan freezes. You rub a hand over his knotted hair. He reads over the message again, and again, and again. You were going to war, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He stood from his position, making his way over to the settee where your clothes were layed out. He cleared his throat, pushing out the feelings he was having.
You followed his actions, standing from your place at the desk.
“I must go.”
“I know,” he wouldn’t look at you, running his hand over his face.
You sauntered closer to him, “Cregan, look at me.”
He turned his body and his head, but his eyes were still focused on the floor of your chambers. You walked to him, pressing your body against his and taking his face in your hand; you could feel the beginning of a beard forming.
Pushing his face, you forced him to look at you, “Talk, please.”
“I do not know what you want me to say. You must go. It was a command, so it is final. They need you.”
His tone was soft and quiet, much different than the harsh and commanding tone he usually had. He held his hands on your waist.
“When shall you go?”
You take a breath, “I shall leave at first light.”
He brought his head down to rest on your shoulder. You pull him further into you, holding the back of his head tightly.
You pull from him, getting in your shared bed. You pat the spot next to you, asking him to come to bed with you. He discards his pelts, weapons, armour, outer clothes, and shoes, and gets into bed with you.
He lays against the headboard, you lay against his chest. He wraps his large arm around you, rubbing circles into your bicep.
“Rickon…” you began, thinking of the son you had become a mother to when you and Cregan had wed.
“Rickon will be cared for only by me and any hand maids of your choosing. He will have the best education and training - your name will be spoken highly at every meal and at every sleep—”
You sniffled softly, thinking of your boy, “I do not wish for him to forget me.”
Cregan felt his eyes get hot with tears, he pulled you closer into his warmth, “He will not forget you. I will make sure of that.”
Your breathing started to stable and your grip on his arm faltered. As you slept, Cregan could not find any shut-eye, worried about you.
He watched you the whole night. Watching as your chest rose and fell, and how your silver locks were splayed across the feather pillows and across your face.
It was nearly sun-up when your husband woke you. Your eyes fluttered open, you blinked roughly a couple of times to adjust your vision. Cregan paced around the room.
Instead of your handmaiden, Cregan, himself, helped you to dress for battle. You stopped in your son’s chambers, only waking him for a second to say your farewells. You kissed him back to sleep, tucking him in tightly; tears only fell after you closed his chamber doors and headed out to your dragon.
Making your way out of the walls of Winter Town, you found Cannibal in a large field dusted with snow. At your arrival, he huffed out to greet you, trying to rub his head over your chest.
You smiled, brushing over his scales with your hand. Cannibal awaited your mounting as you turned to your husband.
Grabbing his hand, you looked at him solemnly, “My lord husband, if the Gods decide I have served my time and served Westeros well… and I do not return,” you paused to take a breath, “I want you to take another to wed. Do not spend your life grieving over me. Rickon deserves a mother and you deserve more heirs—”
He grabbed both sides of your face, “I do not want to take another to wed. I do not need more heirs. I only need you,” he shakes his head roughly, the morning light hitting his features majestically.
“I will not even look in the direction of another. I will not take another to bed or wed. I will wait at the gates of Winter Town for your arrival. I will pray every sun-up and sun-down for your safe return. You will not be forgotten and there will never be another.”
“Cregan—” he cut you off with a kiss.
“Promise me you will come back,” his brows were furrowed, his face still close to yours.
You nodded to all of your extent, “I promise. I promise.”
He kissed you feverishly once more, finally letting you go, “I will send thousands of greybeards after you. They will meet you at the battle.”
Smiling, you sighed, beginning to mount Cannibal when he called out your name loudly. You turned your head one last time towards his booming voice, “Fight hard. Like a Northerner!”
A single tear ran down your face as you took off. Cannibal screeched, his sounds filling the Northern air. Cregan waited until you were out of site before he turned back to Winterfell.
-
He kept his promise; that night he began his prayers in the Godswood, dragging Rickon along with him.
After your departure he became cold and distant from his people and his men. He would spend many weeks at a time North of the Wall, trying to distract himself from you, but never forgetting his prayers.
His bastard sister was chosen to care for Rickon, and even as his sister, he could not stand seeing another woman care for him.
After the first year, he began bringing the young lord to Castle Black with him, though he was only about 4 years old.
He would occassionally get ravens from wherever you were in battle, but after a while, the messages lessened, eventually stopping. He did not want to assume the worst, thinking you were too busy to write to him.
After tireless pleas of his advisors telling him to remarry, he had killed nearly all of them for even suggesting such a thing. He had never been tempted to take another to bed; the only thing that kept him going was thoughts of you.
He grew his beard out in those long years you were away, his face seeing many harsh winters.
His eyes were sunken, he had become someone he no longer recognized in the mirror. His son had blossomed into a strong young lad, becoming great in battle at his ripe age of seven.
Rickon and his father were very close, only really having one another. They prayed for you every morn and night together, they prayed for you over every meal, and Cregan told many stories of you to his son.
Your memory never faltered, almost as if you were still in the North.
Nearly 5 years after your departure on that cold, dark morn, whispers in the wind had said the Blacks had succeeded in taking back the throne. The realm had lost the Prince Regent, the Usurper King and his wife, the dowager queen, and the youngest hightower prince.
The Starks were at supper when Winterfell’s guards yelled from every tower and station, “Dragon!”
“Dragon!”
Cregan and Rickon immediately perked up, sharing a look and sprinting to their horses. They raced to the gates of Winter Town, shouting at everyone on the streets in their way.
Almost jumping off their horses, Cregan and Rickon watched you and Cannibal land in front of them.
You looked a lot older, your silver hair was much longer and braided up, you held a stoic and stong look on your face. Cregan could tell you had been changed by the war.
You dismounted, running through the snow to your small family. Cregan grabbed you tightly, breathing into your hair, tears overflowing.
You kissed him hard, crying through it. You held his face and smiled through your tears, “Look at this beard!”
He laughed softly, “Five years and that is the first thing you say to me?”
You notice your son standing not too far away, turning to him, you cried more. He was so grown, standing at almost 8 years of age now. You knelt, holding out your arms, “My boy.”
He ran into your embrace, squeezing you tightly. Cregan knelt with you, taking both of your bodies into his arms. Cries and sniffles surrounded your family as you reunited.
Rickon finally broke the silence, wiping your tears, he held onto your shoulder, “Tell us stories about the war! Father told be the same stories of you for years, now we have more!”
You laughed, looking at your husband, “I will tell you all about my adventures tomorrow, but now I just want to be with my family again.”
———
taglist: @wolvestitches
#cregan stark x you#cregan x reader#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#hotd season 2#hotd imagine
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once more to see you (adar x elf!reader)
decades at a time, you find yourself crossing paths with the Uruk.
AN: hey guys i was listening to mitski and for some reason (yeah sure) i was filled with yearning for adar. he intrigues me so. i need help like mentally or something.
AN II: at some point the horny evaporated from my body and i was feeling something different, this ended up being like 30% adar lmao, BUT ALAS I WRITE FOR MY OWN PLEASURE AND I CANNOT HELP IT. enjoy.
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Dawn swept across the great delta, the pools of seawater and grains of sand glistened like stars as the sunlight dappled through the clouds. Eärendil's plea had been answered by the Valar, and so a host of your fellow elves from Valinor arrived upon the shores of Beleriand. You followed the call with haste as you wished to be reunited with your dearest friends in exile, but now your stomach turned at the sight ahead. A looming shadow crept over the mountain range, threatening to overtake what remained of Middle Earth's western shores.
Your company had concluded setting up camp the day before. Now only battle preparations were being rehearsed repeatedly, for no one could predict when the fight would erupt. You spent the entire morning doing drills you could have done as easily in your sleep and so decided to slip away from the encampment for a moment away. The forest gave you no comfort though, darkness lingered everywhere, muffling your hyperaware senses. Still you wandered, bow clamped tightly in one fist. Minutes later, you stumbled upon a clearing in the woods, but someone was already there. Their presence made your blood run cold; you notched an arrow for good measure.
It was too late though, the figure turned swiftly, looking directly at your frozen figure behind a tree. He did not draw his sword, nor did you release your arrow. You found yourself completely transfixed on him. He seemed to be an elf, with his long, pointed ears and tresses of midnight black hair.
Whatever danger oozed from him ceased now as his own eyes captured every inch of you. You noticed tear stains on his hollow cheeks, had he been crying before you came? You stepped out of the tree's shadow without hesitation, allowing the sunlight to pour down on you, illuminating your pale blue attire and long, woven hair. He only continued to gaze at you, as if he was studying the magnificent night sky etched with constellations.
“What is something so fair doing wandering on this dark path?” he asked calmly. Your cheeks flushed, but before you could open your mouth a horn blared in the distance and you pointed your arrow in its direction, then back at the elf. He was gone. This couldn't mean well. You ran back to the encampment as fast as you could to find elves running back and forth, your commander yelling at soldiers and captains alike. The war began.
***
The black blood mucked onto your armor would not budge regardless of how much pressure you rubbed at it with. With a sigh of defeat you dropped the filthy rag and laid your head on the boulder behind you. Decades had passed and the war continued. In this moment of stillness between the two fronts, you and Galadriel had led the injured away from the desolate northern regions. Your mind wandered on the events of the past years: the countless orcs you had slain, the mountains and plains which had been ravaged, the elves and men that fell to their death beside you, and the glimpses of the dark elf from the woods passing by you on the battlefield yet never crossing your path.
"What troubles you?" Galadriel's soft voice stirred your attention. She stood before you, glorious even through the weariness of war.
"Nothing. Nothing besides the stench of those rotting Orcs," you replied without a look to her, guilt creeping into your heart. She crouched down before you and took your hands into her own without another word.
A deafening roar split through the air suddenly, snapping everyone awake. Upon the northern horizon, winged serpentine beasts flew in your direction. Men and elves alike shouted at the sight in an uproar of confusion.
"What treacherous hole have those beasts crept out of?" one man cried out, looking to his own equally mortified commanders.
"So this is Morgoth's desperate assault," your tall commander pondered, before speaking loudly for all to hear, "his forces have been expended. Do not give into fear. Do not fear!" In a blur, you part from Galadriel and fall into line with the remaining soldiers charging back into the heat of battle. The dragons devastated the front line, scalding skin off of bone, melting armor and sword, snapping arrows like twigs. As one dragon swooped down to rake through soldiers, you shot a large arrow into the beast's eye, causing it to roar in pain, but too quickly it recovered to charge straight at you. In that moment, fear paralyzed you. The cloud of flame descending upon you grew hotter by the second, and you closed your eyes. No fear.
That was until a cold metal hand yanked you by the nape of your armor, dragging you away from the now burning spot. You opened your eyes to see a black-haired figure pulling you further and further away from the fields and into a dark ravine. The ground was bloodied, black trees stood completely charred here. The air hung thickly; perhaps it was from the dragon fire, perhaps it was only something between you and the elf. He finally stopped to release you, causing you to catch yourself from face-planting into the rocky ground. He paced a little ways further, keeping his back to you. The sounds of clashing metal and roaring dragons continued in the background, yet grew faint as you focused solely on your savior.
"Who are you?" you asked warily, a hand resting upon the slender blade on your hip, yet rather pathetically you wished nothing more than for him to gaze at you like in your last meeting. He does turn eventually, and his eyes do find yours, but they were filled with anguish so strong it drew a worried expression from your own face.
"I am..." he began, "I thought I was fighting for my children’s place in this world, but it seems I led them all to death..." Children? What children did he speak of? You knew he served Morgoth, alongside other monsters and tormented souls twisted into Morgoth's "creations,” but no children were on that battlefield. You stood up slowly, trying to navigate the elf's mood as he looked down at the ground. His scarred hand grasped his black sword tightly, but you crept closer. He looked up again, stopping you in your tracks as electricity crackled between the two of you.
His pale face was scarred so severely that you winced at the thought of what it looked like when they were fresh, but he was beautiful nonetheless. His melancholic grey-blue eyes shone upon a set of high-cut cheekbones. His thin lips parted to speak again, but his gaze dropped down to the black blood staining your armor. Suddenly, his eyes darkened and he grew angry, stepping away from you. You panicked at this change in temper and unsheathed your blade.
"Forgive me," he muttered before striking you across the head with the butt of his sword. The power of his hit threw you unconscious and you crumpled to the floor. For a moment he regretted his action, but the shrieks of the dragons snapped him back into reality. He pulled you behind some large rocks, out of sight from any dangerous passerby, and returned to the battle which costed him his kin. The battle which he knew Morgoth was losing.
***
The golden forest welcomed you with a gentle breeze as you walked down the rows of trees carved into figures of martyred elves. You stood before the familiar faces, ebbs of grief resurfacing in your heart. Decades had passed since the War of Wrath ended and now you remained in Middle-Earth with numerous other elves. Sometimes you longed for the light of Valinor, yet other times a dark desire only found in this foreign land kept you chained to Middle-Earth. Now, you simply resided in the elven kingdom of Lindon.
"There you are," Gil-galad's voice called to you gently. You turned to greet him, his eyes softened at the sight of your weary face. Your heart, on the other hand, leapt after taking in the sight of the golden king. Moments like this passed between the two of you before, a connection that yearned to blossom during these peaceful years spent together in Lindon, but you said nothing of it and neither did he with all his power in the world. He stepped closer to you, taking your hand into his larger, warmer ones before speaking.
"I know this look. I know you regret not joining Galadriel on her...search," he began, his golden rings dazzling in the sunlight, "but I have a task for you which I hope proves to be a distraction because I do not wish to see you mourn the past, wandering here in these woods alone." His voice grew firmer towards the end. He was right, long had you spent idly in solitude, spiraling in dark memories yet also refusing to return to Aman.
"What is your command?" you asked aloofly. Gil-galad let out a sigh and patted the back of your hand, guiding you back out of the forest and towards his halls.
"I want you to go see Celebrimbor. See what he is conjuring in that workshop that keeps him so occupied," Gil-galad continued, "I'm afraid our friend is not replying to my envoys as swiftly as I would like, and thought perhaps a more familiar face would get things out of him sooner." A stronger breeze passed through the exit of the woods, causing your eyelids to flutter shut and you to inhale deeply. You opened your eyes to find Gil-galad studying your face, then looking away shyly. Before entering the main hall, he turned to you, gently clasping his hands upon your shoulders.
"Go now. Take two with you," he instructed, "and allow that foul battlefield to leave your mind.”
***
The road to Eregion was short. Your companions became immersed in the citadel's magnificence upon arrival, and so you made your way to Celebrimbor alone. Sure enough, you found him in his workshop, chipping away at a slender blade handle made of polished marble.
"Celebrimbor-"
"Oh!" he shouted in surprise, the blade snapping off of the handle before him, "Ohhh." He turned to you with a frown, but immediately lit back up.
"It is a delight to see you my dear friend," Celebrimbor stood up to come closer to you, "such a delight! We must feast and drink on this occasion...for when was the last time you graced my humble workshop,” he rested one hand on your back as he began guiding you towards the doors you had just entered from.
“But you see…right now I'm quite busy." You began to protest with the elf, but he swept you out of the tower quicker than you could repeat Gil-galad's inquiries. With no other way back inside, you headed out of Eregion's main gates and into the woods. You hadn't meant to go wandering again, but your body had grown accustomed to this ritual: to walk deeper into the woods, fall deeper into memories with every step, become blind to what stood before you physically as your mind filled with images of the past.
The sun began to set and you found yourself in a small clearing full of sweet scented flowers and lightning bugs floating about. Images of the dark elf's face flashed before your mind’s eye, causing your heart to stammer. You admitted to yourself that right now more than anything you wanted to see him once more. The softness he spoke to you with, the scars on his pale face, the agony in his burning gaze, the way those same eyes were so captivated by you in the woods; everything about him was intoxicating. It was so pathetic of you, an Eldar, to be emotionally bound to a creature of darkness. There was now an emptiness within you that he had dug, a hollow that tore open even wider when you remembered him. You fell to your knees in a soft bed of moss, grabbing fists of your hair as you begged yourself to forget the enemy.
"This is madness! I've been marked by some ill will. It’s a stain. It's just a trick of the dark forces, not my own mind! Not mine, not mine, not mine." Your hands hammered at your head. You threw your body forward and released a frustrated scream and then, bereft of any more strength, remained in child's pose upon the soft green earth. Crickets began to chirp around you, and the sound of careful footsteps reached your ears as well. You should have looked to see who it was, but you chose to sulk in self-pity. They grew closer, stopping midway as if they had seen something, then began to head towards you before stopping mere feet away.
"Fair creature..." a low voice spoke above you. You whipped your head up to find the darkling standing before you, clad in full black attire. Suddenly, you became aware of your lack of weapons, but then fell distracted by two tears escaping your eyes. It is a strange sensation, unfamiliar to you completely. Two drops of warm water traced down your cheeks and into the crevices of your lips, the taste of salt hitting your tongue, before continuing down your chin. You raised a hand to wipe the salty rivulets away, but a thumb in a black glove found them first. The dark elf knelt before you, looking curious as ever.
"How are you here?" Numerous questions filled your head at once, but time was of the essence with someone as fleeting as this elf.
"I fled in the end with my remaining children, in...someone else's refuge,” he hesitated with his words. He was afraid to reveal too much, yet he yearned to be vulnerable with you because he felt that he could. You caught his hand before it dropped away from your face, and rubbed your thumb against the back of his glove. He fell into a trance again, bewitched by your beauty, the beauty of elves he could no longer recall from his own memory. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as he kept his hand in yours, your questions now forming quicker in your mind than on your tongue.
"Who are you? You left me in the mountain last we met. Why did you do it? Why not kill me? I killed…so many of yours," you spoke frantically. His eyes grew hurt, but he did not pull away from you.
"For as long as I can remember, I am called Adar," he began slowly, "My kin and I are Uruk. Yes, you killed many of them, yet I do not know why I spared you. I know...I saw something in you that day in the woods. Something that I should have turned away from, but I gave into it in that moment, and then again in the battle." Your face flushed and it was your turn to cease eye contact. Whatever intense desire you felt, he had felt it too, you were sure of this. All the sinners of Middle-Earth could have been pointing and laughing at you in this moment. You grew afraid, so afraid of how relieved you were to be with Adar right now, to know him a little more.
"I know what it is that stopped you from killing me," you tested your words as you were still apprehensive of this servant of Morgoth, "I felt it too." Slowly, you pulled Adar's hand up to your heart. For a moment the two of you remained like this, then he uttered something in a foreign tongue and pushed you away. He marched away from you before turning around.
"Do not ever seek me out," he said hoarsely, "for your own sake."
***
The waves lapped at the edge of the harbor on which you stood upon. You watched as some elves began to slowly board the ship set for Valinor. Galadriel stood beside you, looking increasingly agitated as her time to board came closer. Her company had returned several days ago from their search for Sauron, but the elves refused to carry on, forcing their commander to fall back as well.
You turned to Galadriel and she mirrored you. You gave her a weak smile, knowing full well she did not wish to take this gift of returning to Aman.
“Perhaps you could speak with Gil-galad once, since Elrond was of no use in this,” she said with a hint of hope, but you shook your head.
“If I speak any word of this to him, he’ll put me on that boat too and be rid of the both of us,” you turned to look back as you spoke, catching sight of the king in the distance. He gave you a small nod, perhaps thinking you were having a heartfelt farewell with your friend. Galadriel let out an airy laugh as she glanced at the king as well.
“Well, why aren’t you coming with us?” Galadriel inquired suddenly, curious as to why you had bound yourself to Middle-Earth. You looked at her shyly but simply shrugged; if you told her the truth you knew she would have dragged you onto the ship herself.
“There is still much I want to see. Things not as troubling as well, Sauron,” you responded slowly, taking the last few steps on the dock with Galadriel before she boarded the white ship. She turned back one last time to embrace you, bringing her lips close to your ear.
“I know he is alive,” she whispered.
“I believe you,” you reassured her before releasing her. She muttered a final goodbye before turning to face the front of the ship. You watched as Círdan, Master of the Grey Havens, stepped off the ship before it made its way out of the harbor. Galadriel, nor any of the other elves, turned back. You watched until the ship became a speck on the horizon, until the sun began to set, and until Elrond reached for your arm to guide you away from the harbor.
***
The elves of the Southlands were to return home. Wishing to escape Gil-galad’s ever-watchful eye, you chose to carry this message to the Watchtower of Ostirith. The elves spoke ill of the men in the villages below, who all felt the same way towards the elves even though they were severely defenseless without them. Save Arondir, who had grown fond of one particular woman. Oftentimes you wanted to advise him against it, to say that he would only be hurt if he chose to love a mortal, but you yourself chose worse things to love.
Upon one quiet morning, something had drawn you to the black forest surrounding the tower. The silence of these woods became unnerving though after walking through them for half an hour and you contemplated turning back, but you found yourself lost. You could not sense the way you came from at all. Terror split into your mind as you trekked down the path you were certain you had come from, desperately scanning the forest floor for signs of your own footprints. You were beginning to lose daylight, and prayed the woods were as empty as they sounded.
You suddenly stumbled into a thicket of webs and groaned at the white strands sticking to your hair and clothes.
“Cursed things! Spiders this close to people? Or, perhaps…I am not as close to civilization as I thought I was…” you trailed off into thought as you cut through the webs. The task at hand becoming so distracting that you did not detect one spider crawling up behind you. Your ears had caught the sound of one of its feet slipping though, but before you could turn to parry its attack, you found the arachnid dead with a black arrow through its skull. It fell with a loud thud to your feet, and you stared, dumbstruck, at the archer. Adar stood there, though not as shocked as you. You scrambled out of the webbed mess and straight to him, desperate to catch him before he slipped away again.
“I caught sight of you when you entered the forest. I sensed you were lost and only followed to make sure you returned to Ostirith in one piece–“ Adar began but stopped as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his armored chest.
“Please, please don’t leave! Please stop doing this to me,” you pled. A split second later Adar dropped his bow and clung onto you as well, his one bare hand raking through your long, soft hair. He pressed his face into your smooth forehead, and inhaled your floral scent, absorbing anything and everything he could of you. No guilt or shame reached you now. It was as if no one could see you, not Ostirith, not Gil-galad, nor the Valar.
“What does an Eldar want to have to do with me?” Adar’s question finally broke your peace. You looked at him in confusion, your mind juggling between reality and its possibilities.
“You could be forgiven, you did not know what you were going to be forced to do when Morgoth had twisted you into…none of this has to be your burden,” you rambled, but Adar shook his head.
“I cannot abandon my children. They have every right to be free in Middle-Earth as anybody else.”
“Children? What are these children you keep speaking of?” you sighed as you took a small step back and planted your hands to your hips. Adar smiled down at you, but inwardly he prepared for you to finally be disgusted by him, to finally reject him and free the both of you from this tangled web of emotions.
“The Orcs,” he explained, “they had been abused by Morgoth once, and I cannot allow it to happen again. They deserve to be free, to have their own land, with no ruler above them…I wish to grant them this peace.” You stared at Adar incredulously. What madness could possess someone to pity the vile Orcs?
“The only peace you could grant them is to put an end to their treacherous existence,” you replied harshly. Adar’s eyes grew angry for a moment, but his pent up desire caused him to soften under your stern gaze. You trembled as you began to realize that perhaps he would not join you in this eternal life, the darkness had truly twisted his soul. As if sensing this, Adar grasped your chin with his hand and forced you to look into his eyes.
“I don’t know what to do…” your lip began to quiver.
“For now…be here with me,” the Uruk responded before dipping his head down to capture your lips in his. You immediately melted into his armored body, any flame of despair within you extinguished. You kissed him back fervently, your hands reaching for his neck, lips feeling every inch of his cold ones. He rocked your head gently to the side, giving himself more leeway to devour your lips. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, a cold metallic taste filling your senses. His hands wandered down your body, slowly squeezing every bit of you from your breasts to your hips. A moan slipped out of you after one of his hands trailed back upward and gave your throat a soft press.
Twigs snap in the distance and you lurched back from Adar. His cold eyes scanned into the dark forest, his body covering yours protectively. After a minute passed, he turned back to you. His own heart, which he once thought long dead, jumped at the sight of you. The moonlight illuminated your flushed cheeks, your lips now glistening from the kiss, and the ardor in your eyes.
“We are not alone, fair creature,” Adar whispered to you between kisses on your cheek then nose then other cheek, “Your kin searches for you. Go to them.” You wanted to protest, but Adar only brushed a hand through your hair once more before stepping back into the forest, fading without a trace.
“There you are,” Arondir’s voice came from behind you. You turned to face the stoic elf with a dazed expression. He did not ask you why you were here, but simply beckoned you to follow him back to the tower. On your way back, you turned the cold taste of Adar on your tongue over and over again.
***
Arondir led you straight back to the tower, but before entering the fortress, he turned on his heel to face you.
“Who was with you out there?” he asked.
“Wh-what?” you stammered as the question caught you by surprise.
“Who was with you in the woods?” Arondir repeated, emphasizing each word. He took a step forward, looking down at you sternly. Your blood ran cold. Did he already know? Could you lie?
“I was lost, I was talking to myself. There wasn’t any–“
“Do not lie!” Arondir’s jaw tightened as he snapped at you. You stood with your mouth agape, feeling as if you were shrinking smaller and smaller under his judgmental gaze.
“Did you not think I could sense the darkness lingering on your flesh?” you shivered as he continued, “and to think…you succumbed to it so easily.”
“You don’t understand! It was nothing of that sort!” you pled but to no avail. Arondir scowled, turning away from you and headed into the tower.
“It is best you leave these lands. For good,” Arondir called over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the dark. You fell to your knees, praying under your breath for the night sky to come down and swallow you up from your spot.
***
When you reached Lindon, two soldiers immediately led you to Gil-galad. As you entered the king’s study, you noticed a crumpled letter on his ivory desk, as if he had read it and crushed it in his palm immediately. The tall elf stood with his back to you for several minutes, sweat began to form at your hairline. Finally, he turned to you with a somber expression.
“Do you know what I just read?” he asked, barely in a whisper.
“Gil-galad…” he raised a trembling hand to stop you regardless of asking you a question. He stepped around his desk and loomed over you. His eyes searched yours for something you could not decipher. He raised a pointing hand as he spoke.
“Tomorrow, at first light, there is a ship leaving for Valinor. You will take it, and you will not have any say in this,” he seethed. Disappointment burned in his eyes, and for once you became afraid of him. Naturally, you did not protest and without another word bowed to Gil-galad before turning to leave the room.
Hot tears streamed down your face as you made your way as far as you could from everyone. You kept your face down in shame, making your way to the edge of the city before bumping into someone. You looked up to see Elrond. His mouth parted in surprise but he quickly swept you into a tight embrace, patting your back as you stifled a sob.
“Surprised he didn’t send you off with Galadriel the first time,” Elrond joked quietly, but his voice remained solemn. He did not ask anything else of what had happened in the Southlands, even though he knew the basis of it.
“I should have left the moment the war ended.”
***
The waves were gentle as they carried your ship closer and closer to the golden rays before you. Warmth hummed within your chest as the clouds parted completely to reveal the brilliance of Aman. The welcoming light grew stronger, infiltrating every bit of your surroundings. Your senses began to buzz entirely. Any despair in your mind melted away, and the hollow in your heart filled with something soft and kind. A song from the Amanyar carried through the breeze; the chorus of silken voices beckoned you home.
#adar#adar x reader#adar fic#the rings of power#lotr#lord of the rings#lotr fic#dark elf#galadriel#gil galad#elrond#middle earth
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Hi babe! Congrats for one year of Silver Underground! 🎶
I was wondering if you could write a little Drabble or one shot of James and Levi in the early days of their relationship. Maybe it’s still a secret from Isabelle and Farlan, and they almost get caught…you know…😏
Love you, Bestie!!😘
hello, my dearest Sailor! Your wish is my command. xo
down bad. / levi ackerman x f!reader
word count: 1.3k summary: you and levi secretly make out before furlan/isabel get home. that's it, that's the horny plot. tags: 18+ minors dni! pre-aot timeline, heavy petting, making out, dry humping, mentions of sex, secret relationship, interruptions, set in the silver underground universe credit: @saradika-graphics for dividers
“Huh.”
You hear Levi’s voice echo from the living room as you climb the stairs to your apartment.
The anticipation of a shower after making deals with some of the cretins of the Underground has kept your tired feet propelling forward, onward, until they come to a stop at the mouth of the door.
One after the other, you kick your boots off beside Levi’s discarded pair to pad gently across the wooden floorboards in dark socks.
He reappears from his bedroom with a furrowed expression, brow holding his apprehension.
“They’re not home.”
He points a thumb behind his shoulder.
The silence corroborates his findings.
By now, Isabel would have launched herself from your shared bedroom proclaiming sorrow without the two of you around. Furlan barely ever left the living room, and there are only so many places he could go in such a cramped space.
As you drag the apartment’s front door closed and locked, you wipe your hands off on your trousers.
“Where could they be?” you inquire. “I thought they were supposed to meet with that one asshole tomorrow.”
“They are. Maybe they went shopping for food,” he suggests, rolling up his white sleeves to the point of his elbow on the right arm. “Furlan owes you anyway.”
“It was one stolen leftover, Levi.”
“Still owes you,” he chides, fixing up his left arm’s sleeves after. “Doesn’t matter.”
Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest and stand in the silence.
No one talks.
Someone should, but —
You’re still not used to this — balancing what the hell it means to be James, the friend, and the James that kisses Levi in the shadows.
It’s only been a few times.
A lie — under fifty isn’t a few.
Maybe a hundred, if stolen pecks in passing when you both know the risks qualifies.
At this point, you’ve lost count how many times the two of you have made out. And losing count means that the two of you are prone for mistakes.
(A lack of judgment, if you will.)
Because as soon as it hits — no one’s home — eyes of twin curiosity connect across the room.
At the same moment, at the exact same time, an idea passes telepathically. An argument.
We shouldn’t.
We never tried in the house.
We always—
Too late.
He propels towards you with the urgency of losing you and your feet slide against the floorboards with urgency.
Your head tilts and he follows suits, and without an ounce of real thought, his lips claim yours.
Levi’s hands are already trying to open up your shirt, unbuttoning with certainty a starving man wouldn’t have.
You aren’t as controlled — your hands fumble with his vest, angry at the little notches for giving you a problem. “Don’t worry about me,” he mumbles against your mouth, his tongue experimentally poking out to flicker against your lower lip.
“But—”
He abandons your lips and kisses the tiny gemstone on your sternum to make you gasp; a sign of worship, leaving an offering to an altar he created.
Obediently your head drops back, too focused on the heat traveling up your collarbone to your neck.
His lips are always so careful, as if somehow if he presses too hard he’ll bruise you.
It doesn’t matter how many times your hands grip at your hips.
It doesn’t matter how many times he backs you into a wall—
Or in this case, a table.
Your hips hit the kitchenette table, faltering your stance. His strong hands find purchase on the plush of your thighs.
“Fall back.”
You pull away from the kiss to finally survey those blue-gray eyes, stormy and benevolent all the same.
Both of your chests heave, though yours is half-revealed and there’s a pink hue of a blush crawling across his cheeks to his ears.
“Wait, what?” you ask him in a huff.
He nods once, lifting your legs only a little for emphasis. “You’re not gonna break it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m— there are about a dozen other things I’m worried about,” you shout in a whisper. “I don't give a fuck about the integrity of the table."
"Good," he decides, and leans back in for a kiss.
Your hand blocks his lips from finding yours.
"I wasn't done talking," you say. "The other dozen things, Levi, like when are they going to get—”
“I don’t care,” he rasps, too far gone. “We’ll hear the lock.”
“Will we?”
“Yeah.”
“And if we don’t—”
“I’m covering you.”
“Barely.”
“Enough.”
“But the table—”
"So you do care about the table?"
"Well, no, but if it—"
“Fuck the table, James,” he groans, so unlike him that the arousal shoots to your core.
Timid in the moment, you scoot your rear end to the table’s edge and fall back. His arm catches your back to ease you down, but not without kissing down your throat again to pull a short cry from your lips.
His other hand pulls your thigh with him so he can slot his hips between yours, and you both lose your breath at the heated connection of his hips to yours.
You haven’t gotten that far yet, but you damn well wish you could.
His head lifts from your neck so he can stare at your eyes, stalling for content, as the hand on your thigh lifts it.
There’s nothing hotter than your knee caging in his hip, and his hand keeping it there. Nothing.
“You’re wasting time,” you growl in return, dragging him in from the white collar of his shirt.
He grunts in appreciation and hovers over you, pleased with himself now that you’re virtually beneath him.
His lips find yours, chin tilting to deepen the action.
Your moan vibrates against his mouth, causing his hand on your thigh to clench the flesh.
You want everything.
In that moment, you realize you’ll do just about anything if it means you get to have him.
Late night trysts, early morning sparring kisses, midday dry humps—
The best kept secret of your entire life.
His hips experimentally roll against yours, and you both moan — probably louder than you ought to. It doesn’t matter, because it spurs him to try it again. Again, again—
And when your hand boldly reaches for his belt, something clicks.
Not in your brain, but at the door.
Trained ears force Levi off of your body, lips and cheeks equal parts reddened.
He whips his attention to the door, fixing his clothes and clearing his breath.
“Calm it with that key, would you?” he calls, voice a little more gruff than before.
He strides across the room, buying you time to fly off of the table and re-button your shirt in your own bedroom.
When you catch your eye, he mouths sorry — but the shit-eating smirk on his face tells you otherwise.
“We’re trying!” Isabel. Shit. You know that whine anywhere.
Levi’s palm slams against the door frame from the other side. “Give me a sec, I’ll open it.”
“Why?” Furlan. He sounds perplexed more than anything. “I almost had the door—”
“You’re gonna break it,” Levi flatly tells him, before finally opening the door.
When you ‘enter’ the room, Furlan and Isabel pour into the apartment with their arms full of bags and nearly-fresh produce. You yawn, padding barefoot.
“Sorry, took a nap,” you lie, stretching your limbs overhead. “Where were you two again?”
“Shopping!”
They chirp in unison, heading straight for the kitchen.
Your eyes meet Levi’s once more while you rearrange the chain of your necklace.
That smirk hasn’t left his face, even in the face of your friends.
All you respond with is a middle finger, rubbing against your nose.
One of these days—
Narrowly missed today, maybe, but one of these days they’re going to find out.
(And maybe one day it won’t be such a secret.)
#snk fanfiction#aot fanfiction#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x female reader#attack on titan fanfiction#aot drabbles#snk drabbles#levi ackerman drabble#levi ackerman smut
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𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — william j. moriarty
: william james moriarty x fem!reader, angst, comfort at end
: warnings — assassination, gore, reader kills her ex-'friend'
: time has passed, the betrayal felt in your heart has softened, and yet it all comes crashing down like a house of cards when you meet your once 'dearest friend' again. her, now a corrupt noblewoman: you decide to take matters into your own hands. but what will that exactly entail?
tonight's show was a pleasant affair — after reading about the performance at the opera tonight via the papers, you just knew you had to go (and take the love of your life). and of course, william being the devoted lover that he is, how could he refuse that excited face of yours? that gleam in your eyes and that enthusiastic smile on your face?
"i hope you're not too cold, my dear." he whispers, leaning in closer to you. the two of you are in your own private box, seated on plush velvet seats and looking over at the stage where the actors perform beautifully.
you shake your head. "no, i'm not." you smile at him. "i'm feeling warm. very comfortable." you pull the coat william offered you further closer to yourself, rubbing the fabric with your fingers absentmindedly. you're more than grateful he's here with you. after what occurred with your friend all those years ago, your emotions have been on a rollercoaster since, you couldn't help it. it's followed you throughout your life, has made you distrusting of others — you name it.
but william stayed, all throughout the rough times and the difficulty you'd been experiencing. his love never faltered.
"that is good." he nods, acknowledgingly. "...look over there."
and your eyes travel forwards to the stage, a flurry of lights; now lit softly like feathers dancing in the air. and for a mere second the entire opera, previously dim, is lit with it's luminance. it was beautiful, dazzlingly bright and had everybody's lips parting. but in that split second, when the lights shone down upon the audience, that was when you saw it. saw her. the muscles in your body froze instantly.
and william could tell something was wrong, especially when he saw you go pale and how your fingers tightened around the armrests. he puts a comforting hand on your arm, "darling... are you alright? what's wrong?"
it's like you're unable to speak, your mouth refuses to open. so william takes the initiative instead, his gaze follows your own to look where your eyes are so stuck upon. he sees it, sees her. you'd talked about her before, this person who'd ruined the majority of your childhood and teenager years. he instantly becomes sympathetic, caresses your cheekbones that are sweating with the back of his fingers.
olivia. it was her — the woman who'd stolen your inheritance and destroyed your name.
"do you wish to head home?"
this woman, she had married a nobleman. both the spouses were very corrupt and treated those of lower stations than them harshly — meaning they were already on his kill list. but the assassination can wait for another time, he thought. his priority right now is getting you away from her.
you feel a droplet of sweat on the back of your neck and it frustrates you to no end. you thought you were over this, had healed from whatever scars she'd left on your heart. was it fear you felt? or anger over the fact that she was still able to command these emotions out of you? this fear?
"...i," you begin slowly.
william leans in further, prods you on carefully. "yes?"
you inhale sharply, make an effort to compose yourself and part your lips: "i... want her life, william."
"..."
now it's his time to freeze, never did he think he'd have to hear you saying that before. but he understands, this was the extent to how deeply she'd hurt you. he takes his time thinking before eventually answering. "alright," he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead. "anything you wish for."
you stir awake to the sound of fabric shuffling. with some effort, you sit up in bed. it's the middle of the night so you have to blink multiple times for your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounds you. "mmn-.. william?"
the fabric stops shuffling for a mere second, as if to confirm that you'd called out his name. "you're awake?"
you nod your head, and wonder if he can even see with how dark it is. "you're leaving?" you don't ask where he's going, you already know the answer to that.
"yes, louis is going to groom the horses for a bit before we head out." you hear the sound of footsteps nearing you. the next thing you know, he's placed a soft kiss on your nose. he pulls back. "i'll be back soon.. wait for me in your dreams?"
you smile at that. "alright."
and just like that, as immediately as his footsteps came over, they disappear just as quickly, leaving you in the dark.
you shift to the edge of your bed once you hear him gone, you feet dangling off the edges. there's a grim expression on your face. you've already set your mind to it:
you're going to be the one to take her life. no one else.
living with william james moriarty meant being able to plan things meticulously was a given. and you, too, had picked it up. the ornate wall sconces cast long shadows as you slip through the hallway of the manor. though your breathing comes rapid and shallow, your footsteps make no sound as you steal towards the bedroom at the end of the hall.
in your clenched fist is a slender blade, the steel catching the flickering light as you progressed. too long had you carried the scars of betrayal — tonight, the debt would be repaid in full. reaching the bedroom door, you pause to steady your nerves. beyond lies the woman who ruined your life, who left you broken and destitute after ruining you.
olivia's crimes had gone unpunished for far too long under the protection of wealth and status. no more. you push the door open with a gentle creak, entering the bedroom as soundless as a wraith. moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating the four poster bed. there, tangled in silken sheets, lied olivia asleep - oblivious to her doom.
you steel yourself, approaching on light feet. you gaze down at olivia's slumbering form, at the perfectly sculpted face that had smiled so sweetly while engineering your downfall. and your hands start to shake, the knife trembling, as a storm of emotion swirls within — hatred, fear, vengeance.
no longer will you let these emotions control you, no longer will you let her control you. her death will provide you salvation and peace, you were sure of it.
yet in is in that moment that olivia stirs, eyes fluttering open to lock with your own across the bed. a gasp of shock escapes olivia's lips as recognition dawns. "you..! what are you doing here—" she breathes, starting to sit up.
but you are too swift. the blade flashes silver in the moonlight as it comes arching down towards olivia's exposed throat. there is a wet sound, a hissing gasp, and suddenly the sheets are staining crimson. olivia's body spasms once, hands grasping uselessly at the knife lodged in her neck before eventually going still. chest heaving, you stare down at the corpse, feeling.... nothing.
why was it so? why did you not feel the satisfaction you thought that you would feel? there is nothing — no relief, no catharsis, only emptiness and disgust. at yourself.
what did you do? what have you become?
a killer? your figure trembles as they look down at your now blood stained hands. reality sets in.
a floorboard creaks behind you and you whirl around, bloody blade trembling before you. "name—...?" it was james, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. he was supposed to be the one to take olivia's life tonight and yet,
william shortly makes his way up the stairs, now finished with assassinating olivia's husband. before even entering the room, he'd noticed the expression on james' face and the mentioning of your name. he should have taken this into account; constantly asking questions about the planning, who would be the one to take her life, when the plan would be set in action.. he stands silhouetted in the doorway, taking in the grim scene with hooded eyes.
"it is done, then." he says quietly. "are you.. hurt anywhere?"
"i—i didn't feel how i thought," you whisper brokenly. "there is no peace in this." you stagger away from the bed, wiping your hands on your clothes but you only succeed in spreading more gore. the blade falls from your hand and hits the marble floor with a clatter. your stomach roils and you clap a hand over your mouth, fearing you may vomit.
a heavy footfall announces william crossing the room. gently, he takes your arms to turn you towards him. instantly he's gathering you into your arms. you cry until you can no more, until your sobs have faded to weary silence in william's arms. he holds you tight to him, his chest hurts seeing you like this. it is heartbreaking seeing you like this.
pulling back to brush fallen hair from your eyes, he gazes down at you with affection "my dear, you have suffered more than any should," he murmurs. "let me ease your pain."
you try to look away, ashamed, but william's slender fingers catch your chin softly until your eyes meet once more.
"i will gladly bear the weight of your sins, (name)," william continues, "that guilt... let me take it. from this moment forth, consider olivia's death mine and mine alone. you need not dwell in pain any more."
a visible tremble courses through your body at his words. "...no, i cannot ask that of you. the crimes are mine to atone."
but william smiles gently. "you ask nothing.. i give this freely, for your light is worth far more than any life i have taken." william lifts the back of your hand to his lips in a lingering kiss that is a oath and a promise all its own.
when at last he speaks again, his voice is tender: "let me bear your sins, (name), and allow me to find what small peace i can in easing your heavy burden. say you will accept this from me, my love, and let your torment be no more."
"..." a sob catches in your throat, and all you can do is nod through very grateful tears. at last the shadows, although still heavy, feel lifted. it may still haunt you, but you know that william will be there for you all throughout it.
he will stand between you and your darkness, forever will.
just like he always has, and just like he always will.
"thank you."
© 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 ;; do not repost, translate or modify my works in any way or any platform. all rights reserved.
#📼 — received requests#william james moriarty#william james moriarty x reader#moriarty the patriot#yuukoku no moriarty#yuukoku no moriarty x reader#william james moriarty angst#moriarty the patriot angst#yuukoku no moriarty angst#mtp x reader#ynm x reader#mtp angst#ynm angst
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Disobedience
pairing: Aemond x Wife!Reader request: Hello there! Would u mind doing aemond x wife! reader(the reader has the same attitude and personality as Anastasia Steele from fifty shades if that’s possible) where her husband, aemond punished the reader in his playroom (if possible tho) because she sneaked out to the city all by herself when aemond told her not to bc she could get herself in danger but she’s so stubborn and then her guards found out about it and told aemond straight away and bring her back to the castle and punished her. Pleaseee and thank you. LOVE LOVE LOVEE YOUR FICS BTW! ~ anon note: okay i took some creative liberties with this request but I hope you enjoy!! 💚 warnings: 18+ NSFW ~ spanking, oral (m-receiving) word count: 1.7k masterlist
“You did not have to inform him,” you say to Ser Criston Cole, a deep frown marring your face. Your husband Aemond stands with his back towards you in your shared chambers, as he leans over his desk. You can see the tense muscles of his back. He is angry with you. No.
He is furious.
Ser Criston looks to the floor, clearly uncomfortable with the energy in the room between the couple.
“Princess,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “it was Prince Aemond’s wishes that he be informed of any of your…. indiscretions.”
You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. Of course, your husband would be this dramatic.
“Going to the clothier is an indiscretion now?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at the knight.
You had simply wished to see some new fabrics that had arrived at your favorite clothier in King’s Landing all the way from Myr.
Ser Criston gives you a pained look.
“I am simply following order, princess,” he tells you, desperate to leave.
“You may go, Cole,” Aemond says, his voice icy. He does not turn. Ser Criston gives you a bow before leaving you alone with your husband.
Your eyelashes flutter furiously as you wait for your husband's wrath. In truth, you knew Aemond would not be pleased with your adventures into the streets of King’s Landing. But you had been so very careful, taking only one of your ladies in waiting with you to the clothier. But Cole had found you all the same.
You had begged him not to tell Aemond of your journey, but of course, the knight did not follow your commands.
“Husband,” you softly call, as Aemond remains still. You walk over to him and place a hand on his back.
“You could have been killed,” Aemond says quietly, finally turning to face you, “or worse.”
You take a deep breath. You know Aemond’s fury comes from a place of dearest love and adoration.
“I am fine,” you assure him, picking up his hand and placing it on your cheek. Aemond’s lips part as he lets his thumb caress your cheekbone.
“Do you know the horrid things men think of you when they see you in the streets?” Aemond tells you, bringing his other hand to cup your face.
“I am braver than you believe,” you tell him, as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
“It is not about being brave, it is about following orders,” he tells you.
“From you?”
“Yes, me,” he says.
“I simply wished to see some new fabrics.”
“I shall bring any fabrics you require, here, to the castle.”
“I am not a bird Aemond, I do not belong in a cage.”
“It is my duty as your husband to keep you safe, why do you make it so difficult?”
“Aemond, come now-”
“Do not use that tone with me,” he says harshly, causing your breath to catch. The look in his eye has changed to something predatory and primal.
“Do you think this can go about unpunished?” he says, violet eye boring into yours. You hate the way you squeeze your thighs together at his words.
“Hmmm?” he asks, hands moving down to your neck. You lower your gaze.
“No,” you answer, as his grip tightens on the back of your neck.
“No what?”
“No sir.”
“I agree,” he tells you, leading you towards the chair before releasing his grip from you and sitting down.
“Take off your stockings,” he says, bringing a finger to his lips, and running it over his enticing pout.
You know you should not keep him waiting, that would only prolong your punishment. You do what he asks.
“And your small clothes.”
You do this as well, clothes hitting the floor. Your cheeks are burning as you feel bare beneath your skirts.
“Over my knee,” he says, motioning for you. You stand before him, wide-eyed.
“Aemond-”
“I do not wish to repeat myself,” he snaps.
You lay across his lap and feel the Aemond move the fabric of your skirts to reveal your arse to him. He squeezes the soft flesh of your bottom, causing you to gasp.
“Do you remember your High Valyrian?” he asks, still squeezing and massaging the flesh.
Your face grows hot. Aemond had been teaching you certain phrases, some numbers. It was not something that was very easy to pick up.
“Some, I suppose,” you tell him, clenching your thighs together. He hums at this.
“I shall make you a deal,” he croons, hands splaying over your arse, “if you can continue to count in High Valyrian during your punishment, I shall grant you your release.”
Your heart beats erratically in your chest. You could do this. Not so hard. After all, Aemond is a very good teacher.
“Yes sir,” you tell him, and he brings a hand down hard, delivering a stinging slap to your cheek.
“Skoros iksos bona?” he asks. What is that?
“Mēre” you answer immediately and he hums with approval
You nearly make it, answering after each slap. Feeling yourself grow wetter with each strike against your soft cheeks. You bite your lip, sharp cries leaving your lips and tears leaking down your face.
Seven hells. What was eleven?
Your brow furrows, and nearly cry out with frustration as you feel Aemond’s fingers slip between your soaking folds. He gives you no relief, just tantalizing strokes with his long fingers grazing against your sensitive pearl.
“Hembar?” he asks, amusement evident in his voice. Next?
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying, as he delivers another harsh slap to your behind.
“Gōntan ao ojughagon ūñagon?” he questions, delivering another slap. Did you lose count?
You let out a whimper, convulsing with his next slap. Unconsciously your thighs clench together, until you feel Aemond’s hand move between them, forcing them apart.
“Such a naughty girl,” he purrs, in the common tongue, hands splayed on your aching ass. Aemond moves one to your hair, pulling your lolling head up.
“How did I manage to have such a wicked wife?” he taunts, your back arching as he tightens his grip.
“I am so good to you,” he murmurs, lips near your ear, “I even offer you a chance for release, after being so irresponsible. Do you think you deserve the mercy I grant you?”
A breathy moan escapes your lips. You can feel the sharp curve of his nose press into the sensitive spot below your ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.
“I’ll be good,” you whimper, fingers clutching the hard muscle of his thigh, “please Aemond I’ll be good.”
Aemond hums against you.
“Show me,” he commands, harshly releasing you. You pull your body from his lap, sinking to your knees in front of him. You can see how hard he is, straining through his leathers due to the punishment he awarded you. But you are still being punished. You look up at him through your lashes, eyes watery.
Your husband’s gaze is hungry, and he takes his bottom lip between his teeth as you undo his laces with shaky hands. His cock never fails to impress you, no matter how many times you have seen it by now. How it slaps against his stomach whenever it is released, the vein underneath pulsating with every breath Aemond takes.
“Go on then,” Aemond encourages, and you wrap your hand around him. Aemond hisses at the contact, as you swipe the precum that gathers on the tip before placing him inside your mouth.
You hum with satisfaction as Aemond jerks his hips, ramming his thick cock down your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks as he tangles a hand in your hair.
You release him with a pop, running your hand along him, before using your tongue to caress the vein that runs up him all the way to the tip. You flatten your tongue along the slit, the salty taste of him making you drunk with need. You press your thighs together, taking him fully in your mouth once more, saliva dripping off of your chin.
“Look at you,” Aemond coos, as you meet his violet eye. His lips are parted, cheeks flushed.
You hum again, bringing your hand to fondle his balls. You know he loves it when you give him this attention and you are rewarded for your efforts with a moan from the one-eyed prince.
The sounds in the room are lewd and wet as you gag on his length. You move your head furiously, as tears leak from your eyes as he nudges the back of your throat.
You can feel his cock pulsating in your mouth and know he’s close. Aemond drops his head back, his seeing-eye scrunched shut as he releases into your mouth. You suck him down greedily, eager to please.
Aemond’s moan turns into a rough hum as he strokes your head while you release his softening cock. Only then does he open his eye, looking at you moving his hand under your chin. You swallow, knowing what he’s waiting for, and open your mouth presenting your clean tongue to him.
He gives you a proud half-smile, using his free hand to replace his cock back in his trousers before standing. You remain on your knees in front of him, his hand still firmly on your chin forcing you to look up at him.
“There’s my good girl,” he says affectionately, his rough voice washing over you like a sensual caress. Aemond tugs on your lip, before letting his hand drop from your face completely, striding towards the door. Your eyes widen with confusion.
“Aemond-”
“Hm?” he says, turning on his heel. Your lips open and close, a small whimper escaping your lips. The ache between your thighs matches that of your stinging backside.
Your husband tilts his head to the side.
“You didn’t think I would give you release after all that?” he asks, clicking his tongue. A dark chuckle leaves him and you feel your lower lip begin to tremble.
“No, my dear wife, I am afraid not.”
You pout, as hot tears run down your cheeks. You know better than to fight him unless you want a repeat of your punishment. You look away from him instead, towards the floor.
Aemond watches as you pout at the floor, a defeated expression on your face and the muscles in your back relaxing. Something primal comes alive within him when he finally has you in submission.
“Do not cry too much, my love,” Aemond calls, opening the door.
“There is always tonight.”
note: hope you enjoyed! also absolutely living for the three requests I get the most for Aemond: soft, smut, or angst literally love all you readers so much 😂💚
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x wife#aemond x wife reader#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x wife#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#sapphire requests#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#hotd#hotd smut#hotd x reader#aemond x wife!reader
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Soldier On
summary: Freshly discharged from the Ferngill military should be a relief, now that the war is over. But Safiya finds that surviving nine hellish years as a child soldier and battle mage is only half the fight in life. With nowhere to go but her dead grandfather's farm, and no family to speak of, she arrives in Pelican Town. Armed with nothing but PTSD and a fierce will to survive, she goes through the painstaking ordeal of relearning how to live.
note: this is a multi-chapter fic, you can find the master list for this fic here
read on AO3
Here’s the thing about war –- there are no more orders to follow when the fighting’s stopped. And for Safiya, that’s an entirely new war. Ferngill and Gotoro were both guilty of using child soldiers to make up squads of battle mages and field medics, finding and using children as young as fourteen.
When the war ends, albeit on tense terms, the world is surprised, and most of the people Safiya knew during her time in the military know exactly where home is for them now that they’ve been sent home for reunion and reintegration.
But Safiya is set adrift.
“Here you are, Colonel,” Her commanding officer says, smacking her in the face with her release papers where she’s laying on her cot in the barracks, “You’re free to go.”
Safiya nods her thanks, nine years of disuse outside of barking orders and short briefings has rendered her voice useless. She reads her dismissal papers soundlessly, and even though she’s glad to be going home - especially when she knows that most infantry won’t be going home for another six months at least - she doesn’t even know where home is anymore.
She packs her things quietly, her personal belongings are military issued uniforms and a ceremonial saber, everything else she’d brought with her as a fourteen year old girl lost to the person she’d become in the war. Her pack had been light when she’d been drafted and deployed as a girl, and it was even lighter now. The feel of her half empty pack bouncing against her back as she leaves the military base has a pang of melancholy racing through her, made even worse when she collects a stack of letters from the administrative office on her way out.
Most of them are from her grandfather, her mom’s dad, and she tears open the newest one right there in the administrative office, then quickly wishes she’d waited to get on a bus to open it.
To my dearest Saf,
It pains me to know that you did not get to see your mother again before she passed, that this war has taken so much from you at such a young age. Even moreso, I am sorry that I do not get to see the woman you’ve grown into.
In the event that you’re reading this, it means that I have passed and joined your mother on the other side of the veil. I hope that I do not see you there anytime soon.
My dear girl, you have always been strong, but you’re allowed to be weak in the peace. I know you haven’t known peace in many years now, and I cannot imagine how long you’ve gone without a moment's respite by the time this war comes to an end. So, assuming the war has ended by the time you read this, do this old man a favor— enjoy the peace, my girl. Revel in it as I know you haven’t in many years, and then find peace for yourself.
Enclosed in this letter is the deed to the farm. Our farm. The Valley is full of magic, if you remember, and Atwood Farms is rich with it. I think, like Yoba, that the magic in the Valley is benevolent, and you will find exactly what it is that you need. I can only hope that I’m right about this, but as you know all too well, my dear Saf, magic is fickle.
Perhaps you should ask Rasmodious about it should you move to Pelican Town? I’m sure he’d be delighted to indulge you.
If you do choose to come to the farm, know that it’s still being maintained. Rasmodious has been kind enough to make sure that all of Atwood Farms will be taken care of. It shall remain exactly as it did when you were a girl, and as it does now.
Find peace here as I did, and as your mother did.
All my love,
Grandpa
PS — Call Lewis and let him know you’re coming, dear girl. And tell him and Willy I say hello.
She really wishes she’d stepped away to read it as tears brim in her eyes, but they do not fall. She takes the first bus she can out into the Valley, and she curses at the price of the ticket for the connecting bus ride into Pelican Town. But she forks the fifty dollars over anyway, and she sits and has the worst lunch she’s ever had in the bus station terminal.
It’s all vending machine food, stale trail mix and a flat cola, and she realizes how strange she must look, still dressed in her combat uniform as she hunches over her crappy meal as she dials the number listed on the town’s website she’d found on her phone.
She’s half-tempted to turn to the few people in the terminal and tell them that if they think she’s strange now, then they should also know that this is her first time using a cellphone since she was fourteen. The technology has changed since then, and while she’d had a touch screen as a girl, flip phones had still been pretty much the norm when she was drafted. Now, her phone scans her face to unlock, and the touchscreen is nowhere near as clunky as she’d remembered them being as a kid.
The line rings maybe three times before Lewis picks up, his gruff voice jovial as he answers, “This is Lewis, with whom am I speaking to?”
Safiya has to clear her throat before she starts - get her vocal chords at least a little warm to save Lewis from the grate of her voice, “This is Safiya Atwood, I’m calling in regards to Atwood Farms. My grandfather, William, left me the deed.”
She hears a quiet clattering over the line, and as she strains her ears, it sounds like he might be in a bar, “My goodness, Safiya, it’s good to hear your voice! Are you looking to sell the old farm?”
Safiya nods, humming into the receiver as she chews on a handful of stale nuts, “Thank you, but no, I’m actually looking to move onto the property. I’ll likely be there by sundown today. I was hoping you might have the keys?”
There’s another scuffling in the background, a door creaks and shuts, “Uh- Yes, I do. I’ll meet you at the bus stop around sundown, Miss Atwood.”
She mutters her thanks, and the call ends with a quiet beeping in her ear. She leans back on the bench as she picks at the crappy trail mix, sighing as she waits for the bus. The silence is weird, now, having spent so many years listening to the sound of gunfire and combat going on around her.
It’s unsettling, really, as she watches people walk past her, just living their lives. Most of them not even batting an eye at her appearance, or even really caring that it’s so quiet. Hell, the hissing of the bus’ hydraulic brakes has Safiya jumping in her seat when it pulls into the bus stop. But nobody else bats an eye at her.
She takes a seat near the back of the bus, which is empty save for the maybe ten people scattered about, and they all give her as much of a wide berth as she gives them. She ignores the odd stares she gets, settling in to look absently out of the window. She knows she must look strange, still in her military issued mages combat uniform, the deep black and brilliant gold detailing would give away her status in the chain of command if any of these people cared. But it’s the dead of winter, and most of these people have either just finished up some last minute Winter Star shopping or are heading home to spend the holiday with their families.
Safiya hasn’t celebrated any holiday since she was thirteen, but she can still remember the distinct joy of unwrapping gifts so painstakingly wrapped by her mother and grandfather. And though she’d never participated in the yearly tradition of brewing a hot cup of tea to drink out of their finest china, she had burnt her tongue on many cups of hot cocoa as a girl.
It feels like forever ago now, a glimpse of the past through the break in the treeline as the bus flies down the highway — another piece of her lost to the war. Shot to pieces and left to be buried in the mud of the battlefield.
The world moves on though, and the bus comes to a halt at its first and only stop between Grampleton and Pelican Town, in another rural town called Pine Valley. Where Grampleton is quaint and cozy in a touristy way, with all of its original downton architecture intact and well maintained; Pine Valley is Grampleton’s pothead cousin. Safiya had heard her mother make the joke a hundred times over as a girl, when she hadn’t quite understood the joke, but as an adult, the joke is an apt comparison.
There’s nobody left when the bus pulls out of Pine Valley, Safiya the lone passenger on yet another lonely journey.
It reminds her vaguely of when she’d first been drafted. Most mages lived out in the countryside in larger towns, or out in the boonies. But Safiya had spent most of her childhood in Zuzu, with her mother. Smaller towns and villages might have a few mages, or even whole families, but most anybody with any affinity for the arcane tended to stay away from cities — where the magic became too muddied with other people's energies to do anything useful with it. But Safiya had felt the magic strongly in Zuzu, not as strongly as she did out in the valley, but she’d felt it there — humming just below the surface, some wild untamed thing, so different from the smooth flowing calm that mages were used to out in the valley.
So, she’d been a rare breed in a breed already rare in its own right. One of the few mages that the government had been able to find in cities, and she had been the only passenger for that bus ride too. Armed with nothing but the shaky promise she’d made to her mother.
I will not relent.
The promise had followed her through her brief military training, and at some point in her training, the mantra had changed to soldier on.
It plays in her head even now. As the sun begins to set and paints the sky alight with brilliant shades of red and gold, and as the bus rolls to a stop next to a beaten down bus at a bus stop that looks more like a patch of dirt on the side of the road. There’s no need for those words now, she reminds herself, as she collects her few things and steps off of the bus, but it repeats regardless.
There is no one waiting to greet her at the bus stop when she steps off of the bus, the driver wasting no time to shut the doors and make a sharp u-turn back to where he came from, but she doesn’t mind. She knows that if she were to follow the path West she’d stumble across Atwood Farms, and the tiny village center is off to the East.
She doesn’t move. Instead, she opens the side pocket of her bag, grabbing for the carton of cigarettes she’s been carefully smoking her way through for the last two seasons. For every mage she knew, every single one of them had their fix in the military. The single pack was the first she’d ever laid hands on, given to her by her commanding officer just before the war had come to a ceasefire. The first time in years since their barracks had seen any real use outside of the bare necessities for living.
She’s been savoring them since.
The sun has only just begun to set, but Safiya knows it only takes forty-five minutes at best for the sky to go completely dark, and she keeps an eye on the dirt road leading into the village square as she holds the cigarette between her lips and lights it up with a small flame on her fingertip. The smoke burns on the way down, particularly bad in the cold, even worse with so much snow on the ground.
Snow is good, the colonel, the soldier, inside of her says, Harder for the enemies to sneak up on us. Crunchy. Visibility is high with the snow.
She tells the colonel to shut up and let her enjoy one of her last few cigarettes before the carton is empty and she goes back to living the cigarette free life she’d been living before. The colonel doesn’t shut up, she smokes her cigarette anyway and sends it off in a plume of smoke and ash when she’s finished with it, letting the wind carry away the remnants for her.
It’s as she watches the tiny specks of black and gray be carried off by the wind that the crunching of footsteps meets her ears. The colonel yells for her to get low, to grab for a rifle, raise a shield, shoot off a quick blast of fire, anything, and she forces herself to ignore it. To curl her hands up tight at her sides and just observe the squat old man walking down the dirt road.
“Miss Atwood?” He calls to her, the same jovially gruff voice she’d heard over the phone some hours ago, and it takes her a moment to realize that this must be Lewis. So much older than she remembers him being.
“Yes, sir,” She addresses him stiffly, though she does not salute, her hands relaxing at her sides, “Am I right to assume you’re Lewis?”
“That would be me,” He nods happily at her, stretching his hand out towards her for a handshake when he reaches her, she just puts her hand over his, gently pushing his outstretched hand back towards him.
“I’m rather jumpy with my recent dismissal,” She says, tone apologetic, and she hopes that is enough explanation for him, not wanting to get into the details of how she could very well accidentally kill him with how on edge her magic is. Not knowing friend or foe in this new battlefield off of the battlefield.
Lewis nods again, smiling wider, and she relaxes upon seeing he takes no offense to it. It’s maybe the most pleasant interaction she’s had all day, not having to worry or explain away the quirks of war, “Thank you for your service, Miss Atwood.”
Scratch that.
Safiya internally cringes to her grave and back, “Ah, sure,” She mutters, and her fingers tap at her palms, “It, ah, it’s really not anything you need to thank me for.”
Especially not when it hadn’t exactly been her choice to go out and fight in a war she didn’t care about. Not when she was fourteen, and especially not now, not when the war is over. The casualties on both sides had been brutal. Good people had been lost for a conflict that hadn’t needed the force either side had responded with.
But—
“Here we are,” Lewis says, rifling through the pockets of his well-worn coat, pulling out a keychain she immediately recognizes as her grandfathers, the Junimo charm handcarved by her grandmother some decades ago, “Billy left these in my care. He’d always hoped you’d be ‘round some day to get ‘em.”
Safiya clears her throat, finding it suddenly hard to swallow around the thick, viscous, lump in her throat as she eyes the little Junimo keychain. Originally painted granny smith green but faded with time and chipped in places from being dropped, and the small chip of yellow paint from when her grandfather had set his keys on the still wet paint of her childhood paintings.
“Well,” She manages to get out, voice gone thin and reedy, “I’m sure he’d be pleased that I came back at all.”
It’s a morbid joke, one that usually gets laughs in the barracks in the warzone, but Lewis doesn’t laugh. He just chuckles awkwardly, handing the keys to her and avoiding touching her bare hands with any part of him.
“Billy loved you dearly, Miss Atwood,” Lewis says after clearing his throat, “He’d be happy you’re here, no matter where you were.”
Here. Not here, here.
Here. Like, alive, here.
“Ah, right,” Safiya agrees, and she wonders how much bigger the lump in her throat can get, “I suppose you’re right.”
“O’ course I am,” Lewis laughs, a hand on his belly like he’s Santa off the clock, “Your grandpa was my best friend, you know!” Her lips tilt up in the smallest of watery smiles, and Lewis smiles at her from beneath his thick mustache, “Anyway, Miss Atwood, I must be gettin’ back now. Have a happy Winter Star.”
She watches him go, snow crunching under his boots as he walks away, and she stares at the faded Junimo charm on her keychain. It’s weighty, if only in sentimental value, and she rubs her thumb over the faded green wood and the yellow spot of paint, a bruise of color.
She sighs, turns on her heel and makes the short walk through the snow to Atwood Farms.
#ababa's stardew masterlist#stardew valley fic#sebastian stardew valley#stardew valley sebastian#sdv sebastian x farmer#sebastian sdv#sdv sebastian x reader#sdv sebastian#sdv farmer#sdv#stardew valley#stardew farmer
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oh dear god please I beg you just a teeny tiny snippet will suffice, please provide a follow-up to Earth Tav somehow reuniting with Astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention 😭
in reference to this post here, where Astarion handles a Tav from Earth who returns home after the defeat of the Netherbrain. my darling dearest. your wish is but my command. this is open ended because i was tempted to take it in an nsft direction, but for now please enjoy! cw: none, fluff, the doccy who references are out in FULL FORCE today.
-
It’s not until the wound has fully scarred over and he’s lying in a sweat-heavy trance that he feels a familiar ice-pick of intervention making headway into his brain.
Someone is tampering with his dreams.
Another quest, perhaps? Another person wanting him to traipse the length of the Sword Coast for their own gain once more?
Lazy by way of an impressionable entrance. He’s a little put off by it in all honesty. Unoriginal.
It’s not until his bleary-eyed dream self rubs the glare from his eyes that he sees the vision before him and chokes.
You.
It’s been a tenday since he last dreamed of you.
He must’ve been slacking.
Your sheer unbridled whimpers of laughter as you barrel towards him. Skidding to the ground where he sits, cross legged; rushing to cup his face in your hands and smatter it with hurried kisses.
“It’s real. This is real. It’s not a dream. I’m here. Well. In your dream, but it’s me.’
It takes him a moment. He inhales deeply.
Gods. It is you. The smell with which he became so familiar, nights under the stars with his nose buried in the crook of your neck.
‘I don’t know when I’ll be able to do this again, if ever.’
Your forehead presses to his as his fingers find yours, looping together as he gasps for air.
‘I think of you every single day. I miss you, every single minute.”
There’s a broken sob in his ear, heavy with spit and shakes.
He heaves a slight wail of his own. Arms lift to pull you down into his lap.
“Love. Oh, love.’
Astarion doesn’t care how you’ve done it. He doesn’t know how long you have left together in the ballroom of his mind and intends to spend every second in the present.
‘My lost love. Look at you.”
As his eyes run the length of your face he studies for changes. You have more grey at the root of your hair, the creases around your eyes a little deeper. Not aged too significantly, but it’s been a while since your adventure together in your realm, too.
You snort a teary giggle.
“Look at you! Beautiful thing. Gods love you still.’
He must look pretty similar. A little more battle-worn, surely; but aside from that the only difference is the rings running up his pointed ears. You toy with them as he holds you close around the waist.
‘I never got to say goodbye, did I?”
No. Not this.
“Don’t. Please.”
You pull back a little and your eyes meet once more, both glimmering wet and aching. It takes a moment for you to speak.
“I’ll spend my whole life looking for a way to come back to you. But this-’
You gesture to the scintillating purples and blues around you, the grass. It’s a similar vision to that of the dream guardian from all that time ago.
‘I’m using a star for the energy to say goodbye.”
He sobs something guttural. Of course you’re destroying a celestial body to see him once more. It couldn’t be something simple, could it?
“Keep doing it! There’s a sky full of them!’
He laughs into you.
‘Or better yet, come back. Please.”
“I’d be old by the time I got to you. People might stare.”
He fumbles for your hand once more. He’s been stashing potions and elixirs to negate your ageing should you appear on his doorstep one day, but you don’t need to know that.
“Don’t care. Come back. Come back to me.”
Your own laugh sounds like it was borne straight from the heavens.
“You don’t think I would if I could? In a heartbeat?”
#answered#my writing#astarion x reader#astarion ancunin#astarion#bg3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion bg3#fluff
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(not me being so quick to send a request, i cannot sleep right now) hi, kia! ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ u know i had to kindly send in a request for my little meow meow — so, imagine: melkor’s vala!lover feeling his cold fingers touching her soft skin as he presses his lips on hers while she sleeps, which leads to both of them, you know, fucking ∗´ര ༝ ര`∗ and, well, melkor feeling his heart flutter and soar when he hears her whiny confession about how she loves him very much as she cums so prettily around him ˶•~•˶ i am soft, and if you do write it, tysm! take care! —🕊️
──── 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ˊˎ -
☾ ⋆ ゚𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: AWWWW I'm a sucker for writing either merciless sadist dom Melkor or sleepy soft Melkor and no in between dhfgkdfag 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Melkor | Morgoth x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW content, MDNI, smut, sleepy sex, creampie
You had been stirred awake by cold lips pressed to your mouth and even colder fingers skimming across your exposed body. Oddly enough, one of your first thoughts upon waking was one that you had regularly: it was so very ironic for permanently burnt, blackened hands to be so cold – a part of you expected them to always hold the searing heat of the glittering jewels that had forever deformed them.
A sleepy moan slipped past your lips and was quickly swallowed by his mouth as you groggily reached up to cup his face in your hands, feeling the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones like the faces of the harsh mountains surrounding his home, your home. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake you like this and so, when the two of you finally pulled away, you brushed his hair back gently, tucking those sheets of midnight silk behind his pointed ears as you gazed up at him.
Your eyes were so beautiful to Melkor, especially when you gazed up at him like this. Your eyes were big, bright, kind and he could spend eternity wandering their depths.
“What’s wrong, hm?” You murmured as you leaned up just enough to peck the corner of his mouth. “You’re tense…” You pulled him down and turned your body so that his face was against your chest, your arms wrapping around him to play with his hair and slightly scratch your nails over his shoulder blades.
“It’s just been a long day of commanding production in the forges… We lost a lot of orcs in the last battle and now the armoury workers are falling behind. We cannot arrange a counter attack without the necessary provisions…” There was an edge to his voice by the end of his answer and you simply dipped your head down to press a kiss to his hairline before pulling him in tighter, wishing to soothe him with your embrace and grant him a break from the stresses of being the Dark Lord. You softly shushed him as you steadied out your breathing in the hopes that he would mirror you and relax some.
“Well you can worry about that in the morning, it’ll do you no good to keep on stressing in your own time now.” You assured him, “You’re an excellent leader and you have a brilliant lieutenant helping you out too… everything will be fine, dearest.” You assured him and were met with a groan in reply that you knew would be followed by a list of reasons as to why he was sure everything would not be fine. So, to curb said list of reasons, you distracted your lover with one of the best ways that you knew how.
Your hand on the back of his head that had been threading through his hair now pushed his face into your chest, your boobs pressed together with how you were laying on your side and any protest that he might have had was shut up when anything he tried to say was muffled within your cleavage. However he showed no signs of retaliation and instead wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer, tangling your legs as he let out a content moan into the plush skin of your breasts.
“Because there are better ways to spend your time than fretting, aren’t there?” You suggested with a seductive lilt to your tone and Melkor, in turn, squeezed you before you felt his lips begin to trail open-mouthed kisses across your plush flesh. You simply let out a pleased hum and buried your face in his hair as little shivers danced through your body to the sensation of his intimacy. You held him even closer and could feel the rumble of his laugh and some muffled words before you eased up your hold just a bit.
You were rolled onto your back, your nightshirt bunched up in his large hands and pushed to just beneath your breasts as his lips pressed earnestly to your sternum.
“And I suppose that smothering me is the better pastime?” He mused, pale grey eyes rolling up to meet your gaze.
“You didn’t seem too opposed.” You teased back and you could feel the curved smile upon his mouth as he kissed down your body, hands cupping your hips to coax you to lift them.
“Hm… I think I’d rather be smothered elsewhere right now…” Your hands flew down to tangle in his silken tresses when his mouth made its way between your legs and he wasted no time in lapping at your arousal as though it were a delicacy. He ate you like a man savouring the sweetest dessert right up until you felt yourself on the cusp on an orgasm and you pushed him away by the shoulder with a shaky palm.
“No, want…” Your chest rose and fell rapidly with your panted breaths as you tried to take in a breath deep enough to get your words out, “Want to come with you ‘nside me.” He let out a moan at your words, a proud smile on his slick-coated lips before he made a show of licking them clean.
His arm hooked beneath the arch of your spine to tug your body closer to his in one swift motion so that your chest was pressed to his and the sensation of your plush breasts pressed against him only sent heat further pooling beneath his belt that he was pulling open in impatient, jerky motions.
He wasted little time in sinking into you, slowly, observant of your facial expressions to ensure that he wasn’t hurting you. Melkor knew how to hit all of your sweet spots and so he wasted no time in grinding into your mushy cunt, repeatedly rubbing against a place that had you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your body with your arms looping around his neck as your back arched up to press your chest against his.
“There you are, pretty…” He cooed once he heard the sweet moans you were muffling against his neck. You whined as he pulled out right to the swollen tip of his cock before crying out as he suddenly plunged right back into you. He then set up a slow but hard pace, groaning and sighing at the pleasurable sting of your nails in his back.
You let out the sweetest noises as his hands on your waist slid down to your hips, pausing briefly to squeeze them, before wandering further down to your thighs. He squeezed your soft flesh as though you were a being to be revered by all. You soon found your knees nearly on either side of your head and your head fell back against the bed as he could now reach even deeper into you and as you were still completely waking up, all you could think of was just how full you felt.
“M’kor…” You stuttered out his name between quick, panted breaths and increasing moans, one of your hands on his back gliding over his shoulder and to his jaw which you cupped in your palm, fingers tangled in his midnight hair so that you could pull him down into a messy kiss. “So good… so good to me.” He muffled a moan against your neck as your pussy squeezed around him tighter but you didn’t allow him to keep his noises quiet like that, instead swallowing all of his moans with desperate, clumsy kisses as your body seemed to tense up with the coil in your abdomen that was on the very verge of snapping. “Love you… I love you, I love you so much!” You rambled out as you came around his cock, keeping your legs locked around him so that he couldn’t pull out of you as his hips continued to piston against your in wet paps, your arousal and orgasm now slicking his abdomen. Oh how you made his hardened heart flutter when you said such sweet things while he pounded your little cunt.
You clung to him as though your life depended on it, fingers tugging on his hair as you felt the warmth of his load spilling into you, your legs trembling at the small rolls of his hips as he began to grind into your cum-filled cunt. The two of you were panting as he collapsed onto your body, peppering your neck in kisses as you buried your face in his dark hair, holding him close to your body.
After a few minutes of silence, you were the first to speak up: “Feeling better?”
“Much, my love.” He breathed out, resting his head upon your chest, “I love you.” He melted further into you at the sensation of your fingers gently detangling his hair, running over his scalp, “Oh, I love you…”
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#✎ kia’s 2k event ༉‧ ♡*.✧#🕊️ anon#melkor x reader smut#melkor smut#melkor x reader#melkor#morgoth smut#morgoth x reader smut#morgoth x reader#morgoth#silm x reader#silm smut#silmarillion smut#silmarillion#silmarillion x reader
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Sanctuary Behind The Scenes: Normandy (documents)
Damian Kindler (creator, executive producer & writer):... And the fun thing was, when I pitched the show, the network got freaked out, because the pitch was not like, "Here's four or five pages explaining what the story is and how it turns, and this is what it is." I sent cablegrams, and telegrams with all these... I mocked up, you know, "Eyes only", "Supreme... " You know, "From Eisenhower's desk," "Winston Churchill," "A letter from Helen Magnus," and then a Nazi cable to Berlin, saying "We've captured Helen Magnus," and then, you know, a secret communique from Magnus back to Eisenhower, saying, you know, "We're in Nazi hands," and "Mission failure," and all this stuff, and sent it to both Syfy and Space.
Instead of a regular four-page pitch, I sent in these fake documents that looked like they were from World War ll. They wrote back and went, "Cool. What's the story?" And I was like, "Did you read the telegram to Himmler from, you know, the SS Commander in Carentan?" And they're like, "What's the story?" So I ended up saying, "Look, you get the idea. They're in Nazi-occupied France, and stuff happens, and Druitt's there, and... I'll write the outline." They said, "Please." Um, but I had a lot of fun... Sol had a lot of fun immersing myself into that whole time in history.
PM W. L. S. Churchill, 10 Downing Street, London UK
My dearest Winston,
I hope this finds you well. I do wish to thank you for such a fine evening months ago at Tottenham. James thank you for the cigars and the case of Pimms. In this time of rationing, you are typically generous to a fault. Nigel also enjoying his new found freedom from England penal system in his own inimitable manner. I am keeping him busy and on the straight and narrow, no fear. As well, I am quite gratified to hear SOE's collaboration with Professor Tesla has borne fruit. His "autotype radio" could well to be our most reliable means of covert communication during the next stage of the War. I thank your staff for tolerating his ego during the testing phase. Not an easy thing to do.
To business. Unfortunately, a potential new threat to the war effort has come to my attention and I must speak with you at your earliest. In person, if you don't mind as the matter is a delicate one on me personally.
I am overseas at the moment, gathering evidence of this possible threat, but shall be in London next week and at your disposal.
Your warmest regards,
Helen
Helen Magnus, MD May 15, 1944
================================
Supreme Headquarters
Allied Expeditionary Force
Office of the Supreme Commander
6 June 1944
.... EYES ONLY......CLASSIRIED....RECEIVED VIA AUTOTYPE....
RE: OPERATION ‘TALON’ .... SIT REP AS FOLLOWS;
04:28 HOURS..... MISSION OBJECTIVE ALTERED
AWARE INVASION FLEET HAS SAILED.... BEACH LANDINGS IMMINENT WITHIN HOURS....
.... URGENT INFORMATION AS FOLLOWS.....
....HAVE ESCAPED CARENTAN SS BUNKER WITH VITAL INTELLIGENCE TO D-DAY EFFORT THANKS TO BRAVE ASSISTANCE
FROM 5th PLATOON, FOX COMPANY, 101st AIRBORNE RANGERS..... MANY CASUALTIES.
JOHN DRUITT NO LONGER CONSIDERED ENEMY COMBATANT..... REPEAT, JOHN DRUIT NO LONGER MISSION TARGET..... REASON AS FOLLOWS....
......NEW THREAT TO OVERLORD DETECTED MASSIVE THERMAL ELEMENTAL CREATURE TO BE UNLEASHED ONTO COASTLINE...
... ARE MOUNTING AN ATTACK OH NAZI STRONGHOLD HOUSING THE CREATURE WITH DRUITT. WATSON, GRIFFIN PLUS SURVIVING ELEMENTS OF 101s RANGERS.... RISK OF FAILURE VERY HIGH....
.... BE ADVISED: INVASION ARMADA IN GRAVE DANGER......
... TURN BACK ALL SHIPS IMMEDIATELY OR ALL WILL BE LOST....
HELEN MAGNUS
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Heizou x fem! reader. Smut. Bondage. Use of handcuffs. Orgasm denial.
This for my beloved, treasured, dearest @kichikichiko ❤️❤️ you are amazing omg
One of Heizou's favorite places to fuck you was in his office after hours, especially after he finished a successful case.
Your fingernails were digging into the wood of his desk as thrust inside of you. You moaned, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. You were acting with urgency tonight.
Why?
Because Heizou was being a little shit.
Right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he laughed softly and pulled out of you, leaving you breathless and panting. "Again?! Why, Heizou?! Why?!" You cried out, practically crying from being denied four times in a row.
Heizou rolled you onto your back on his desk, rubbing his cock between your legs teasingly, making your body twitch in agony. "This is hard on me to, darling, trust me. But your walls are clamping around my cock so well, you can't blame for wanting to enjoy that as much as I can, do you?" He kissed you gently, biting your lower lip.
When positioned himself to thrust back inside of you, you pushed him off of you. "Ugh, just get off of me, Heizou, I have had enough," you snapped, brushing away a few tears.
Heizou thought you were joking. The grin fell from his face when you started to put your clothes on, refusing to even look at him. "I know you get excited and can't help yourself, you are a man after all. And I love you, but you can be so mean sometimes."
Heizou was genuinely freaked out now. You'd never reacted like this before. "Look y/n, I'm sorry..." He stuttered. He didn't think he had ever felt so helpless in his thought process before. Something he always prided himself in.
It gave him his abilities to be a detective.
But more importantly, it gave him to the ability to woo and please you.
Getting up, Heizou put on his pants and followed you to the door.
You cut him off before he could say anything.
You see, you needed extra shock factor.
To disarm him.
What he didn't see was you grabbing his handcuffs off the hook next to the door. "Save it, Heizou. Come find me later when you are ready to grow up."
You started to open the door. Heizou pushed it closed. "Please, let me make it up to you," he scrambled with what to say again.
"Oh? And how to you plan to do that?" You raised an eyebrow at him, sidestepping around him without showing him the handcuffs hidden in your hand.
"Tell me what to do. Your wish is my command," Heizou said. He was ready for anything. Flowers? Dinner? Dancing? A new stuffed animal? Anything you wanted, you would get it.
"Heizou, you are under arrest," you declared, handcuffing his hands behind his back.
Heizou had to give you credit. You'd been so smooth and a brilliant actor. He didn't even notice you steal his handcuffs. "..You little minx," he chuckled, "And what are the charges? I have the right to defend myself in a court of law."
"Actually you don't," you replied, backing him up against his desk. "Orgasm denial is a serious crime, Heizou. One that has immediate and severe punishment."
You got down on your knees, and took his already hard cock out of his pants. You teased your tongue against the tip, looking up at Heizou, your eyes swirling with desire.
Heizou groaned, stroking your hair. "You know I always love it when you do that. This doesn't seem like a punishment at all."
You continued to flick your tongue along his cock, kneading the tip into his more sensitive areas. You hit every single one with total accuracy, making his cock twitch on your tongue.
"Fuck..I'm going to cum," Heizou moaned, trying to thrust into your mouth.
You pulled away, making Heizou whine, cursing under his breath. "I thought we were making up.."
"No, we aren't. I will tease you like this all night until you fuck me properly. Don't underestimate me, Heizou. I want to fuck you, I do. But you need to be put in your place. Now what's it going to be? You are in my custody and at my mercy. Weigh your options carefully," you said, rolling the head of his cock between your fingers, making him moan.
"You would leave here handcuffed all night, wouldn't you?" Heizou was desperate right now. All he could think about was how much he needed you.
"Well?"
Heizou could do nothing, his hands aching to touch you as you stripped in front of him. "What are your demands?"
"That I ride you to my heart's content. The handcuffs stay on, of course. You need to learn your lesson, so no touching from you," you rubbed up against him, making sure his cock barely grazed your cunt.
"You are evil, but I deserve it," Heizou quivered with anticipation as he maneuvered himself awkwardly to sit on his desk. He squirmed as your sank his cock inside of you, wrapping your arms around him.
He nearly passed out from the intensity of his orgasm. Maybe orgasm denial would become a more consistent thing if it meant he would be punished like this.
#genshin impact#genshin smut#fem!reader#heizou#heizou smut#heizou x reader#heizou x you#heizou x y/n
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“I can break the mating bond”
The bottom trim of Nesta’s cape slips against the stone floor, gliding into a halo around her feet as she stops in front of towering stone bars lining the length of a cell. The man within sits against the wall in the far corner, with his hands clasped and dangling between the bent V of his legs and hidden in the shadow of the window’s small glow. Nobody bothered to give her any information beyond the rudimentary understanding necessary for today’s mission. The threat in the East is embodied by one man with untold power and before her sits one of his few confidants. Rhysand didn’t command her here because of the power she stole from the Cauldron, no—her power is apparently too unruly and disobedient for her to risk using it without his direct supervision. Instead, she was reduced to that of an errand boy, sent to the Prison as a messenger. Nesta is to inform the prisoner of his impending death should he continue with his silence. She remembered the Inner Circle discussing it—who was to go to the Prison, discussing her—a perfect mix of threatening and expendable, and she agreed to go, resigned to the mirage of choice they’re known for. It doesn’t escape her that the cell this fae sits in now was very nearly hers, had her sister not rejected Amren’s suggestion and picked the House for her instead. Nesta didn’t know then that Cassian was written in the fine print, a required quid-pro-quo for a warm bed, and she wonders if she would’ve preferred the comfort of a cell had it been offered to her.
“Your execution will be held in the morning. You have until then to tell the Night Court what you know and decide where your loyalties lie” The hollowness of her voice fades into the empty corridor of the Prison. “If you refuse…may your next life grant you more fruitful loyalties.” She twists at her parting words, making the announcement brief and perfunctory but offering him the hidden well-wishes of her own heart. She is within a foot of the doorway before the low timbre of his voice reaches her, echoing in the space between them. His tone is not frantic or angry as she may have otherwise expected, but promising, “They call him a bride-stealer sweetheart. I was sent here for you, Nesta.” The dull click of her heels reverberated against the stones as she turned to face him. She doesn’t question how he knows her, doesn’t bother wondering how he knew she’d come. “And how,” she begins, “Do you think to take me?” Nesta only finishes once she’s facing him once more, “You’re the one captured in a prison cell, and I am the one about to walk free.”
His sardonic smile contradicts her, but he merely says, “Come with me. I think you’d like Koschei,” he adds with a gentle laugh, “I know he’d like you.” Koschei… the fae male doesn’t seem bothered at all that he’d just betrayed his master’s name. Odd, considering neither Azriel nor Rhysand were able to carve it out of him just hours ago. When Nesta seemed unimpressed and seemed unbothered to deign an answer, the man continued, “I have a unique ability to see within someone’s heart and see their most innermost, dearest desire. Koschei appreciates my particular skill of… making dreams comes true. It’s proven to entice quite the loyal following.”
“Ah, another Court of Dreams then,” Nesta scoffs, without acknowledging his slip. “Spare me,” she says harshly, but her mind follows quietly with, what I want cannot be given. He offered that she go with him, but he's not going anywhere considering his circumstances. Nesta was ordered to deliver a simple message and she had. Her job here is done. She makes her leave with a subtle eyeroll and quick clench of her fists. But she had only made it a few paces away before the prisoner’s next words immobilize her entirely, the heel of her right foot frozen about the ground mid-step. One, two, three stalled seconds continue for small eternities as hope and freedom and happiness is dangled in front of her so cavalierly by this smirking fae lounging on the dirty floor of a dingy prison.
“I can break your mating bond.”
The silver in her eyes is told by the excitement on his face and she throws herself against his cage, her hands digging into the stoner pillars separating the two of them. Nesta’s power slithers through her veins, twinning around her anger and burning her alive. “Promising someone what they want most is a dangerous game to play when you can’t deliver.” Her words come out as a growl, more monstrous than they’ve ever been, more fae than she’d care to acknowledge. But what he had said… what he had offered her… it was alluring and seductive and wholly impossible. She’s new to this world, but she’d never be so naïve as to believe him. But, if it were true…
He carried on calmly, though the small curve of his mouth betrayed his delight at seeing her seethe. “Come with me, Nesta. Join us.” Through the buzzing in her head, she dimly marks the irony of an imprisoned man continually offering her freedom. His gaze is steady, his posture relaxed, his mind sure of her choice. “My execution will be held in the morning. You have until then to decide where your loyalties lie.”
Why that little—
He sighs, perfectly content with his situation, certain her loyalties lie with herself. Nesta wonders what he knows about her circumstances—about her family’s betrayal and her gilded servitude. Or maybe he’s heard about the stories Feyre had spread about their childhood, and just assumed the eldest Archeron sister would be selfish enough to break the sanctity of a mating bond on whim. His low chuckle escorts her out as she leaves without another word. The draw of his offer is too great to be dismissed, but her caution prevents her from accepting outright. So Nesta just leaves. Confused. Angry. Tempted. By tomorrow morning indeed.
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it’s so good to hear from you again, you’re one of my favorite writers.
Can I request jealous sex with Leona & male reader?
I'm glad to read this, honey! Anyways, have fun with this little piece of sin...
TW: NSFW content (MDI)
Male reader
Dear, Leona couldn’t avoid it. He couldn’t avoid feeling so possessive after you ended up attracting the eyes of high nobles who came to visit his hometown to seek some political alliance. You didn’t notice, however, they were absolutely eating you with their gaze… It was a bold move to desire the partner of a prince, but they didn’t seem to care.
But it was… ok. They would never have you or experience the view of you being destroyed by Leona’s dick, they would never be able to feel your burning skin under their touch… Right? Leona wanted to believe this, however, he couldn’t avoid this bitter feeling growing inside his chest.
Each thrust you could sense him more possessive, more primal… Like consuming your body was a natural urge to him. It was quite hot, adorable even… He was desperate not only for your body or touch, but for your love. To know he was treasured by you, my dearest sinner.
Kingscholar made sure to handfully grab your hair and pull it, to somehow, be able to hear those beautiful moans you were trying to hide. Your ass was up and your senses almost drained away as you held the sheets of the bed. He liked to see you like this… being his little concubine, following his commands and allowing only him to satisfy your urges.
Digging his nails to your hips, he attempted to make you stay still, so this way, he could increase his moves and finally reach his so wished orgasm once again, painting your insides white. Of course you two had done such a lustful act many times before, however, this time when you felt your insides hot, it was a unique sensation. In this night of pure sin, you felt deeply inside your soul the passion he had for you and the fear of losing your adoration by others around him. It was painful, but beautiful.
Soon enough, you also reached your climax. Tired, you fell on the bed with the beastman, and, reaching Leona’s face, you gently whispered: “I love you…”
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#leona#leona x reader#leona kingscholar#leona kingsholar x reader
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Shiryu X (Reader) Nurse SMUT
(I apologize for errors, etc. English is not my native language.)
Shiryu X (Reader) / Shiryu of the rain (One Piece) x (Reader) Nurse
Word Count: 2,547
Cw: Smut/Lemon/Nsfw, Breaking down sizes, vaginas, vaginal penetration, Daddy Breaking down, BDSM, masochism. Age difference, possessive Shiryu, Illicit relationship.
Synopsis: You are a regular nurse at Impel Down prison. A young inexperienced nurse, she catches the eye of Impel Down guard commander Shiryu. There is a huge difference in height, (he is a gutsy 340 cm tall) and a huge difference in age. (For now, he gives you 20 years and he is 42.) Your illicit relationship is left in the secrets of the prison.
Masterlist
Standing straight, you raise your head. Water runs down your face, breasts, belly and the rest of your body. Wet hair sticks to your face and body. Standing like this for a while, you turn off the water and step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel.
You walk over to get the clothes that are lying on the shelf.
While changing your clothes, you remember that Shiryu wanted to meet you today.
As you toss the dirty thongs into the laundry basket, you realize you don't have any others with you to change into. You blush and go without them under your nurse's uniform (you are dressed in a white nurse's apron with an extremely short skirt. Shiryu chose. Short buttoned sleeves, a collar and tall white shoes).
You hold the front of the skirt in your hands so as not to expose anything, walking like this you reach his office. You knock and enter.
"Sorry I'm late Shiryu."
You bow your head, because if you bend down, he will see your bare bottom.
Shiryu Silent smoking a cigar, hearing the apology raises his eyes from above the papers. He smiles at you, blows out the smoke.
"Don't worry (Reader)…. I won't bite too hard today. You don't need to apologize, dearest puppy. You're here now and that's all that matters."
He whispers smoking a cigar, putting the papers aside.
"Now let's see how much you want to please your Dad by bending over this desk like a good girl while I prepare our next lesson together."
He smiles biting the cigar in his mouth, patting the desk encouraging you to follow the instruction.
"As you fulfill my request, try not to think about how exposed or vulnerable you may feel right now. Instead, focus on learning everything I can teach you about submission and obedience to me."
Impatiently you nod and walk up. I stand in front of the desk on your side, you smile with a small blush.
Your heart is pounding in your chest from impatience.
Obediently you lean your upper body against the desk with your head turned to the side. Closing your eyes, you blush intensely.
The short doctor's outfit you are wearing has rolled up, showing the lack of a thong underneath.
You remain silent, feeling your excitement growing.
"Good girl."
He smokes a cigar, slides his index finger over your ass, a very gentle touch on your skin, makes you tremble.
"As for today … Well, let me just say that I have a few more 'treatments' planned before bed. But first: how do you feel, knowing that your little butt is under my complete control? Do you wish there was something - or someone - to make you feel so powerless and yet so desirable? Speak up now, puppy; remember: honesty is always best with Daddy Shiryu."
You shudder at his words.
"That's exactly how I love it, Daddy! I want to be a slut just for you! Only you can look at me like this and make me feel this way!"
You wait excitedly, your hips spontaneously twisting gently from side to side, looking for any friction on your excited pussy.
You close your eyes. You blush, which shows on your (Color) skin.
"Hmmm, it seems that you are very excited and impatient…. Why don't we look for some way to calm you down right now? After all, what's a puppy that can't follow orders without hesitation or question - especially when those orders involve serving Daddy so enthusiastically."
He inhales his cigar, stops touching your butt.
"Now get on your knees, my dear. And make sure you pay plenty of attention to the bulge in those pants, tonight you'll get a special treat from Daddy Shiryu before bed."
He smiles sadistically at you while letting the smoke out of his mouth.
As I help you lower your pants and underwear, revealing his throbbing impressive length with a sensitive head already leaking pre-cum, I watch impatiently as you kneel before him as he sits on a chair in front of his desk.
Eagerly you open your mouth taking the foreskin into your mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum stings your tongue. Even that doesn't discourage you from sucking and satisfying Shiryu with your mouth, you tried your best, chodx you didn't know much about it.
"There you go… Good little cocksucker. Imagine how scandalous it would have been if someone had approached us while we were busy getting to know each other."
While Shiryu ponders this proposition, he continues to watch as you (Reader) bend your head up and down his length with ever-increasing fervor - taking more of it into your mouth each time until you choke slightly before pulling back to breathe again. Then you continue the action again.
This feeling, combined with your willingness to take control in such degrading circumstances, only increases his arousal.
"But unfortunately, work also demands attention - even for those like us who like to play God behind closed doors. So let me ask again: are you really prepared for what's coming?"
He asks while catching your hair in his fist and pulls you away from his cock.
You lick your lips from the renewed need to suck his cock that barely fits in your mouth. You rub his sex with a small hand that barely wraps around it.
"Yes daddy. Everything you give me is good for me. I really thank you for that."
You lean over and kiss the tip of his penis, looking into your eyes with a sadistic smile. He bites the vygaro in his mouth pulling your hair.
"I really thank you Shiryu."
You say, and tears of happiness appear in the corners of your eyes.
He pulls you close and orders you wordlessly to continue sucking his cock. This time you keep your hands on his thighs to hold on to something. From time to time you drive your nails into his thighs. Leaving a trail of crescents on your skin. He moans at the sensation, tilting his head back.
Kneeling in front of him without your panties, you feel your arousal flow out of your vagina and bathe the floor beneath you, forming a small puddle.
You continue sucking on his penis, closing your eyes to concentrate on giving him pleasure.
"You're a fast learner… Perhaps I could make good use of those lips in the future."
He extinguishes the cigar in the ashtray, pulls you back by your hair.
Slipping out of his chair and dropping to his knees behind you, Shiryu reaches over to gently tug on your hair, then pulls it back hard enough that he has no choice but to arch his back in surrender while exposing your beautiful neck.
"Do you see it here?"
He asks, sliding his free finger over your vagina and rubbing gentle circles on it.
"So wet and eager… And all this just for me."
He inserts one finger into you making you cry out, feeling a pleasant stretching through your big toe.
Touching you and preparing you for a moment.
He pulls out a wet finger and sucks it clean. It lines up behind you, pressing the head of the penis into the waiting hole.
With one slow motion, the hips are pushed into your dripping spinal cord. Shiryu slowly slips into your pussy from behind without any mercy from your smaller body.
Feeling it touching some place in you (G-spot) you scream with pleasure.
You can't explain why, but that old man turns you on so much.
The vaginal walls clench around him like a vice, and you moan and scream when he fills you up and fucks you so well.
It's your relationship with him, and every one of them was unworldly. (I'll add that he took your virginity.)
Come on, you're fucked unconscious by Shiryu, you're happy. You lean forward, leaning on your elbows, doing a so-called doggy pose.
Sexual position on the dog allows you to stimulate the very sensitive parts of the vagina in you.
The warden leans over you and squeezes the uniformed nurse's breasts that were like his massive arms.
You're screaming for a new stretch, and your saliva is dripping down your mouth on the floor.
Shiryu loves to hear the desperation and need in your voice, seeing your submission as he takes control of your situation.
Slowly she starts to drive deeper into your tight pussy with every hard blow of her breath biting the warge, she wants to be quiet to hear your moans and screams of pleasure.
Leaning over you, he lets go of your breasts and grasping tightly by your hips.
"This is it"
He's grunting in your ear because he clenches his teeth.
"Shout for me, little girl… Let Daddy hear how much you want that big, fat dick inside you."
Every word spoken by him serves only to further fuel the flames in (Reader). He pushes his hips into you harder and faster, which shows even more his own pleasure.
Your irresistible desire for yourself grows with every moment you share.
It pulls itself out of you.
"Lie down on the desk. Now."
Swallowing loudly, you close your eyes and stand up with trembling legs. And you stand in front of the desk You lean back on the desk with your hands behind your back. You stick your buttocks towards him so that your vagina is at the level of his penis.
(This position, like many others from the back, allows for strong stimulation of the vaginal wall along with the G-spot)
They twist their hips to their sides, you wait for him to do something, you come up with a brilliant idea.
“Daddy, can you… can you tie me up?”
You're speaking in the sweetest, most innocent voice he's ever heard. You look at him with innocent eyes waiting for orders.
"The Good Girl"
Shiryu smiles, amused by your zeal. Taking the red rope from the desk cabinet, it grabs your hands and ties behind your back, specially pressing your little body to the desk.
It touches your vagina with a finger, makes you tremble in anticipation. Without further ado, he sets up again at your entrance and slowly begins to shove his massive dick back into your tight heat.
It's an incredibly painful feeling, but you know the pain will turn into pleasure. You still can't get used to its enormous size.
"Ahhhh… "
Shiryu moans deeply as he thrusts himself into you to the handle, your belly fucks on the table from a huge penis inside your tiny body.
Hitting every inch of your insides - make you feel full like never before.
You scream with pleasure, bending your back into a bow.
You moan while biting your lip. Tugging slightly tied hands, you hope that they will free themselves and you will be able to suppress with them the cries of pleasure.
Your hole squeezes around his penis as he rubs against the G-spot inside of you, I blow. He takes your hair in his fist and pulls it backwards, bending your head backwards.
"Oh, my God, yes! Right there, Dad! Thank you! Thank you Shiryu~~!"
You scream when he abuses your G-spot.
Shiryu giggles darkly, enjoying the power he has over (Reader)
"This is it, little girl. Scream for Daddy."
Now he's pumping his hips harder and faster, grunting with every deep thrust that hits right at your point, your juices covering his shaft as you squeezed around him in ecstasy.
Shiryu reaches down between them, using his free hand to grab your chest through the nurse's uniform, then roughly pinching and pulling the dress's nipple.
This dual stimulation sends waves of pleasure flowing through your body, causing uncontrollable muscle spasms.
"You like it when I take control, don't you? When do I make your body sing for me?"
He's growling low in your ear.
"I love~! I love everything you give me! Everything! I love you Shiryu!"
You scream without thinking about the consequences of your words. You're drooling when you feel her pulling your hair tighter.
The vagina clamped a grip on its shank. You're trembling. Tied hands behind your back tremble in ecstasy.
As you feel your orgasm growing, you scream.
"Daddy! I'll fucking come. Please ~~ let me cum on your fat dick that fills me well."
Shiryu smiles, his eyes darken with desire as he feels his pussy (Reader) squeeze tightly around him.
"Ahhh… such a good girl"
He grunts, then reaches down to rub the bumps. His thrusts have become more pronounced now that she's asked permission.
"Take it all, doll! Come for Daddy"
He growls fiercely as his hips violently snap underneath him, sending waves of hot sperm shooting deep into your womb where no man has ever had and will have access before.
Your inner walls spasm uncontrollably around him, while the milky-white liquid continues to pour into her - marking her as completely his.
I'm screaming when you're walking around his penis.
"Oh, my God, yes! Yes~~!"
The heat flows through your whole body. Your vagina tightens when you milk him from orgasm. You feel his sperm inside you, you moan louder at the sensation.
More cum combined, bathes on his uniform pants.
Falling flat with your upper body on a desk and lying on the papers, you breathe hard as you come down from orgasm.
Shiryu gives off a long, satisfied moan as she descends from her own orgasmic high.
“This is it, little girl”
He grumbled hoarsely before he finally got out of your fucked-up pussy with an audible crack.
"I think it's all taken care of."
He reaches for his cigar and pulls it over and over again, then with a sigh he looks around for the scattered papers and files that have cluttered his desk.
Shiryu shrugged indifferently.
"It can wait till tomorrow"
He grunted, then offered (Reader) a helping hand to get up from where she had fallen on the desk earlier. His eyes wandered for a moment towards the door - making sure no one was listening in on their little meeting - and then he returned to meet her eyes again.
You moan when he takes your penis out. Semen drips from your vagina onto the floor.
Lying on the desk, you close your eyes while resting. When he shakes your hand, you want to give him yours, but they're tied in the back.
"Could you untie my hands?"
You ask in a tired voice. Sperm is still flowing out of your core. Shiryu's papers are dirty with sweat and soaked with the smell of sex.
Shiryu giggles darkly, his eyes twinkle with amusement as he pulls out of your dripping pussy and watches his last cum trickle out from his partner's pussy.
“Of course, my little pet.”
He grunted, then reached to gently untie his hands (Reader). Once released, you can stand up slowly, clinging to his large shoulders, which comfortingly lined up on her shoulders
When they sit together in a chair in the office, Shiryu puts you on a desk and puts on your pants, fixing your uniform. He sits down and pulls you to his knees.
You cuddled into his arm, relaxing while he smokes a cigar, rubbing your thighs.
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