#and was at her mercy until she returned it to me

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act iii spoilers // criticism ⚠️

in caitlyn's post-war speech, she talks ambiguously of history and of ups and downs and of a story not yet over, but there's no promise for the future, no motivation to keep going, no bigger picture, no lesson learned. we're not shown much work being done either and i'm about to examine why it felt that way to me, leaving me a bit confused, somewhat unsatisfied, and deeply, profoundly sad

of course, jayce and viktor are dead. heimerdinger is gone, potentially also dead but unlike the latter two, we don't quite know what happened to him, he just kind of disappeared. i was left under the impression the were two ekkos - one for each universe, and our ekko's consciousness just changed bodies briefly due to the hexcore before heimerdinger managed to send him back to his own body in the right universe. but it seemed there was only one heimerdinger (body and soul) who'd traveled to the alternative universe as a package and lived there for a thousand years until our ekko came around in the alternative one's body, and instead of traveling back with him, heimerdinger's body and subsequently his consciousness ceased to exist. so... who's inventing things now? who's rebuilding piltover?

jinx and warwick (because there's no vander left there anymore, we made sure of that) are also presumably dead. we see how this is affecting ekko and vi, but not necessarily the undercity, for which jinx was a symbol of freedom, of unity - the perfect person who could've broken a cycle of violence, poverty and oppression. zaun doesn't get its sovereignty and seemingly loses its beacom of hope.

we see sevika as part of the council in piltover instead, but it's not like she's making merry with the other new counselors, in fact they throw her some nasty looks. and of course, i didn't expect it to be easy and it's admirable she's even there at all but unless i missed anyone, she's the only zaunite there out of 9 counselors (w/ zaun being 1/4 of piltover's population in canon afaik). i guess there's work to be done there but there was no indication of it even being able to go in a good direction, since she seems to have no backing from anyone now and again, we don't even know the extent to which the undercity managed to unify under her.

mel, a character always depicted in white and gold, an image of purity and mercy, defiant of her mother's brutality since childhood, now dons her red eyeshadow and sits on her throne on a ship for noxus. in an attempt to save her city, the city she was exhiled in to "learn" this brutality, to be hidden from the black rose from, and that's she's instead given her everything to care for (after barely getting the time to grapple with her own identity crisis and the predetermination of her fate) she's left no choice but to surrender her mother to the black rose, and watch her die in her arms. perhaps it is by virtue of noxian law she assumes her place and has to return to noxus. she leaves her beloved city in such a perilous and war-torn state, riddled with guilt and confusion. is she a wolf now? has she always been one?

ekko presumably grieves jinx by burning a piece of paper for her (my first thought was it was for heimerdinger, his "mentor" whose contributions and potential sacrifice made ekko coming back home possible, and with the time reversal device at that - but i interpreted it as being for jinx because it was in the place he kissed her alternate self in the alternative universe). what of ekko's future, of his commune? what happened to the tree getting corrupted? heimerdinger had plans to fix it with jayce's help or at least find the sickness' origin (the hexcore, yes, but we don't know if what happened to the tree got reversed), instead they found out the undercity was completely reliant on piltover's mercy for their water and air, and this knowledge seems to have died with them (bcuz i doubt ekko has the power to do anything about it).

caitlyn's looking at the kiramman house files, including city plans, potentially to rebuild things after the war but how? first of all, what are they gonna do with the hextech, the weapons, the gates, the magic in general? would they even want to try that again, and what implications would this have for piltover and zaun individually but for their precarious newly founded relationship? and secondly, she's a policewoman/detective turned anti-civil-war-commander turned just war commander, she's not an engineer or a scientist. all those ones? gone. all the people we know of who could rebuild the city in its previous progressive state are gone - jayce, viktor, heimerdinger, even jinx as a technological wildcar in vi's words. caitlyn seems to be telling the story or archiving files and plans for any future kirammans but she doesn't seem to have any work of her own to do anymore.

vi is the saddest case here, which says a lot. she's lost everything and is completely devoid of purpose. it's okay not to be okay, but what she says to caitlyn completely destroys me (and i'll do a separate, more detailed post but this shall do for now). she's depressed. easily. she's grieving jinx, humming a song her mother used to sing to them, the same one jinx was humming when we first saw her this season. when she says, "I'll always be dirt under your fingernails, cupcake." she isn't being cute, flirty, or romantic. she's being self-deprecating, indicating she deems her presence a nuisance to caitlyn, she deems herself unworthy and unwelcome in her house, but it's not like she's going anywhere. where else could she even go? caitlyn is all she has left. that's what she means when she says, "nothing's ever gonna clean me out", but perhaps even more so, she implies she's beyond repair, that she'll never be whole, never be truly okay again after this.

(the only person who got a "happy" ending, and the reason why this pisses me off is because he was truly vile and wicked and idc abt his motivations i will not be convinced otherwise, was fucking singed, who somehow got to have his immortalized robot daughter despite everything)

[peoplesgraves]

Could you do a yandere Caitlyn kiramman from arcane X fem reader?

Resolve

Yandere Caitlyn Kiramman X Fem Reader

“You know if you weren’t so stubborn this wouldn’t have-“ Caitlyn cuts herself off upon seeing the pouted glare you sent her way, probably supposed to be intimidating but Caitlyn has to bite back a fond smile as how cute it truly is. She hated to see you all laid up in bed, wrapped up from the injuries you’d gotten from a particularly close escape attempt.

“I was just trying to escape the psycho enforcer who seems intent on making my life miserable but it seems like the universe hates me as much as you do.” Your words practically drip with bitterness and had it been anyone else Cait would be just as cruel back but this was you. The zaunite who’d enraptured her, so how could she say anything pointed when you were right.

Not about her hating you, Cait could never hate you no matter how many times you ran or attempted to put her down for good to secure your freedom. She had been acting a bit crazy lately though, truthfully she’d been out of her mind ever since meeting you in the undercity when Vi took her to that hole in the wall… ’establishment’ to get information from an old friend. Leaving her all alone at your flirtatious mercy.

But ever since Jinx’s attack on the council she was even more feral. Back then she’d been content visiting you any free chance she got and paying lavishly for private visits up topside, hoping to win your heart honestly. Though after losing her mother, her hope and most of her heart, now she wanted, no needed you all the time. Needed you under lock and key at her place where she could keep you safe.

Cait sighs calming her bubbling anxieties at your rage and the general tension of her home, your home. “I wish you could understand, I only want to protect you” she brings a hand to you, pushing stray hair behind your ear and caressing your cheek. She shouldn’t relish in the pained wince when you attempt to lift an injured arm to swat her away, but she does just a bit. Hoping this would soften your attempts to escape just a bit and hoping the care you’d need from her over the coming weeks would soften you to her too.

“Understand?! I thought you were different. I thought you understood! Understood that we were different than you’d been told, that we were people just like you but you’re just like all the rest. Thinking your name and being from topside means you can do whatever you want to us…” your voice breaks and Cait feels her heart shatter along with it. “To me!”

She rests her forehead against yours like she used to, back before, back when the both of you thought maybe you could love her back. “I do understand, I know you’re different” your eyes meet hers and you feel a glimmer of hope, Caitlyn can see it in and she wants so badly to see that light forever. “But the undercity isn’t. That’s why you belong here, with me”

You let yourself go limp and Cait lets you fall from her arms, back onto the bed. Lets you curl into yourself as much as you’re able and sob until you both shake. No matter what she wouldn’t leave you and she wouldn’t let you leave her. Cait would prove every word she’d spoken to you and she would be deserving of being the light in your eyes as you were hers. Once she’d made the undercity worthy of you, she’d let you return as long as she was near. Her love for you would carry her and all of piltover through, not even Jinx would sway her resolve this time.

[random2908]

My favorite food is pain au chocolat. I don’t even feel like I need to explain it. It is so obviously and manifestly a perfect food.

[emmyrosee]

Keiji is absolutely nothing if not an attentive, knowing husband.

He’s good, he’s good at the whole marriage thing, knowing what makes you tic and what makes you purr, your anniversaries and outings and just being an absolute maniac when it comes to knowing all about you.

So imagine your complete, your total, your absolute horrific discovery to find out that today, he’s not home.

There’s no flowers, no note, no chaotic breakfast that Mei insisted on making you with Keiji- she claims today is her favorite holiday- and there’s nothing.

Not one of those things, on this birthday of yours.

To be honest, you don’t really mind, he’s one for… however many years you’ve known him, he was bound to forget it at some point (you certainly know you’ve had a few close calls), it just feels strange to have a birthday just with you and not your loving husband or eager daughter.

You stretch, yawn and slowly get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen to prepare for your day off, eager to spend some time alone and not have to worry about anything until you pick up your four year old.

Who is just as surprised as you at Keiji’s forgetting. Who takes a vendetta against Keiji for forgetting.

“You mean daddy didn’t take care of you today?” She says sadly. “That’s not nice of him…”

You giggle, “it’s okay, it’s just one day, yeah?”

“But!” She whines. “I made you a card! ‘Nd we should have a cake! And a birffday party!”

You shrug as you continue to strap her in, “well, sometimes, things don’t exactly pan out like we’d expect them to. And that’s okay! Besides,” you take out your credit card and flash it to Mei, “now we can have a girls day, yeah? Brag to daddy all about it.”

She beams up at you, and you finish buckling her into her seat.

Nails have been painted, delicious pastries for dessert have been picked, a cake to be baked and decorated has been prettied up, and now, all you can do is wait for Keiji to come home and witness all the fun he’d missed today.

Sure enough, 15:34 rolls around, and Keiji comes through the door, sleepy smile on his face and jacket shrugging off of his shoulders. “Hey, my girls.”

“Hey,” you hum, making your way over to him. You toss your arms around his neck and pucker your lips out for a kiss, which he tenderly returns. “How was work?”

“Exhausting,” he says with a small whine. “So glad to be home with the two loves of my life.” He smiles and kisses you again, only to then make eye contact with his daughter, who eyes him in a scold. He crouches down and reaches out to pinch her cheeks, only for her to dodge him slightly.

“And how’s my favorite little-“

“Hmph!”

Immediately, Keiji is cut off by the sound of your four year old’s disapproval, and he watches with a displeased furrow as she stomps her foot with crossed arms and turns away from him. His jaw is slacked, at the mercy of Mei and your attempts to not cackle out loud.

His eyes, filled with incredulous confusion flick back up to you in search for your assistance in correcting her attitude, but you say nothing. Instead, you place your hands on your hips and look down your nose at him.

He straightened his back and took a deep inhale for patience, “excuse me?”

“I said:” once again, Mei stomps her foot and crosses her arms tighter over her tiny chest, “hmph!”

“Have i upset you, Mei?” He asks, crouching lower to try and get her to open up to him. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“You should know,” she snips.

God she’s so cute, you could just bite her.

Keiji, right now however, may disagree with that sentiment.

“I don’t think I like this attitude, little miss-“

“Not my fault you didn’t wish mommy happy birffday today!” Mei pouts, and instantly, Keiji’s brows shoot up, from anger to surprise. When he turns to look at you in confirmation, your expression turns from one of amusement, to faux anger to match Mei’s. His gaze softens, and he reaches his hands out to you for your affection.

“R…Really?”

“Really really,” you confirm. “I was super surprised our four year old and Koutarou remembered before you did.”

All the color drains from his face, and for a moment your expression softens as he looks like he’s about to faint right in front of you. “Kou…Koutarou remembered?”

“Honestly all of the Jackals did- Kiyoomi even sent me a card that’s due to come.” The detail, all though a little unnecessary, again makes him deflate, and even if your intentions are cruel, he looks so cute trying to grovel for forgiveness.

“Baby… my love… I’m so, so sorry-“

“You should be,” you huff, crossing your arms dramatically. “It’s a good thing I had Mei to keep me company all day, apparently she’s the only Akaashi who loves me.”

“Yeah!” Mei’s voice echos behind Keiji. It makes him snort and drop his head against your shoulder, palms smoothing up your hips and sides in an attempt to be affectionate, though the action only has you melting into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he hums from your neck, peppering soft kisses along the length. Your breath hitches and your own hands come up to rest on his own shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, giggling softly when he tenses up, then looking up it you in betrayal. “I want ramen. I want ice cream and chips, and I want to watch classic Disney movies as a family, and I want to do those cute panda face masks Mei got us for our anniversary with Koutarou.”

“Okay… okay I can do that; what kind of chips?”

“All of them.”

“You got it.” With that, Keiji kisses your cheek and quickly turns on his heal to head back out to the corner store to stock up on everything you asked for.

“Mommy?” Mei asks, tugging your pant leg.

“What baby?”

“Are you mad at daddy?”

You smile and ruffle her hair, bending down to pick her up and help you set up the rest of your birthday wishes.

“Couldn’t be mad at daddy even if I wanted to be.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[candy69gurl]

hiii 🤗🤗 im new to your blog, i know you write dark fiction i was wondering if youd be open to some fluff? Like soft sex with sukuna?

Infernal Passion

Heian Era Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, slight non-con, loss of innocence, size kink (Sukuna in true form with 2 dicks, 4 arms and abdomen mouth), mentions of violence (Sukuna eats humans but gentle only with you), use of nicknames, belly buldge, pussy eating, fingering (Sukuna has nails), nipple playing, raw sex (cumming inside), breeding kink, mentions of lactation

wc - 2.4K

ART NOT MINE !

"—Oh, Uraume, bring the new offering to me." Sukuna grumbles, his voice low and menacing. "Tie her up securely and make sure she knows her place. I won't tolerate any resistance from her." He smirks cruelly, savouring the thought of what's to come.

Uraume enters the room, dragging you by the arm, your eyes wide with fear.

Uraume ties you to a wooden post, leaving you bound and vulnerable. Your eyes are filled with tears, and your breathing has turned shallow, each gasp echoing softly in the dimly lit room. The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the many who faced the same fate as you.

"Ah, such a delicate little thing." Sukuna's eyes rake over you, taking in every detail of your body. "I can already taste the fear in your blood. It's going to be a delightful meal." He reaches out, gently running a finger down your cheek, his touch cold and calculating. "Such a sweet dessert after a huge feast."

"P-please d-dont eat me.. I-I don't want to die.. I beg of you", you plead, your body already limb under his gaze.

Sukuna's eyes narrow, studying your pleading expression. "Very well, I shall spare you this time." He leans in closer, his breath warming against your skin. "But you have to give me something in return.

"What do you have to offer me?" Sukuna asks, his gaze intense. "You must give me something truly valuable to earn my mercy today." He steps back, crossing his arms, and waits for your response.

You are trembling against his piercing gaze, words stuck in your throat.

"Yes, yes, I can tell you're frightened," Sukuna says mockingly, "but I assure you, I am quite patient. What do you think would please me enough to forget your insignificant life?" He watches you closely, examining your trembling form and the fear etched upon your face. "Perhaps your body could provide some sort of entertainment... Tell me, have you ever served a man before? Or perhaps multiple men?"

Tears stream down your face as you desperately search for words. "N-no." You whisper, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks, "I am... pure, untouched." Your voice wavers, and you bite your lip nervously, hoping that your submission will be enough.

Sukuna's eyes gleam with interest as he studies your reaction. "Pure, are you? That could be intriguing." He takes a step closer, towering over you, his massive form looming over your tiny frame. "But I require more than just words, little one. Show me how much you value your life, and maybe I'll decide if it's worth keeping." He gestures Uraume towards his chamber, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Inside, you will find what I need. Fail me, and I will eat your heart and make you suffer until your last breath."

Uraume approaches you, their expression softening slightly as they untie the bonds restraining you. "Fear not, dear one. Lord Sukuna requires your purity intact." They whisper gently, helping you stand and guiding you towards the chamber, "We shall prepare you for his pleasure."

Within the chamber, a warm bath steams gently, and a pristine robe is laid out on a nearby stool. Uraume helps you undress and step into the water, washing away the dirt and fear clinging to your body. Their gentle hands work over your tense muscles, and their movements are confident and practiced.

As you relax in the warm water, Uraume carefully dries you off and helps you into the robe, adjusting the fabric to fall just right over your slender form. "You are ready now, dear one." Uraume's voice is calm and soothing, and their eyes never leave you. "Remember, you must please Lord Sukuna if you wish to live." They lead you back to the main room, where Sukuna awaits, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Well, well," Sukuna drawls, his gaze raking over your body. "Look at you, all cleaned up and ready for my pleasure." He runs a hand through his hair, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Sukuna motions for you to approach the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as you move cautiously towards him. With a single swift motion, he removes your robe, revealing your innocence and vulnerability to him. "Ah, so tempting."

"You are merely a morsel in comparison to my size and strength, yet your innocence and fragility only add to your allure." Sukuna growls, his massive hands tracing gently down your slender frame. "And here I thought your kind were all tough and unyielding, but you are anything but. You're soft, delicate, and, oh, so delectable." As he speaks, he pulls you closer, your bodies pressing intimately together.

His grip tightens, pulling you even closer, his erection pressing against your belly. "Your innocence is intoxicating, little one." He bends down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. You taste fear and surrender, which only fuels his desire further. His fingers trail down to where your legs meet, hesitating for a moment before pushing on your legs.

Your eyes fail to meet his, a tender blush filling your cheeks.

"Such shyness is adorable." But you'll learn quickly that there is no escape from my desires." His red eyes devouring your innocence.

With that, he sinks to his knees, his tongue flicking out to taste your essence.

The great Ryomen Sukuna on his knees for a mere human like you, you think.

Your thighs shake, his tongue is huge, one slide is enough to cover your whole womanhood. He savours your shock and fear, letting them mingle with the sweet flavour of your arousal. "So good; you taste better than raw blood." He murmurs, licking and sucking at your tender flesh, driving you wild with both pleasure and terror.

You squirm and whimper against his tongue. "Ah, so sensitive." Sukuna growls, his tongue darting out to catch the droplets of your arousal. "You're going to make me lose control, little one."

Sukuna's eyes widen in surprise at your sensitivity, his tongue lapping up the flood of wetness that cascaded onto his face. This is unlike any human he has encountered before. He cannot remember experiencing such sensitivity from others. It makes him thirsty for more, for your submission and pleasure.

Your mewls and whimpers turn him on further. "Such sweet sounds. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sukuna's voice is thick with lust, and his tongue never ceases its relentless assault on your sensitive core. He thrusts two thick fingers inside you, stretching your tight walls as you squirm beneath him, his nails brushing your walls drawing out moans from you, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

"A-ah, too much, Lord."

Sukuna groans low in his throat, fighting the urge to claim you right then and there. "If you can't handle that, how will you take my full length inside you?" He asks rhetorically, his fingers working in and out of you, stretching your wet heat in preparation.

Slowly, he eases himself free from his robes, his two massive members standing proud and eager. He positions himself at your entrance, taking a moment to let you feel the weight of his manhood pressing against your delicate folds. "Ready to accept what you owe me, little one?" A cruel smirk curves his lips, knowing you have no choice but to submit.

"Are you going to put both of them inside me?" You are terrified at the thought of his two lengths invading you.

"Don't worry, I won't," Sukuna responds, even though he wanted to push both his dicks inside you, the thought of your tender body feeling pain from it made him rebuff his thoughts. He gently guides his upper dick to your entrance.

Your thoughts are a mix of terror and confusion. You never imagined yourself in such a position—being taken by a powerful demon who holds your life in his hands. Yet, as he slowly pushes into you, the unfamiliar sensation overwhelms you. You cannot help but wonder if this is how your end comes, consumed by this beast. But strangely, your body responds to him, arching into his touch, craving more even

You couldn't believe it. A creature of such immense power and cruelty is gentle with you. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, almost tender. It's a stark contrast to the fear and violence that defined your encounter thus far. As he moves within you, you feel a strange mix of emotions—fear, yes, but also a strange sense of safety. It's an odd sensation to be at the mercy of a monster yet feel protected.

As he continues his slow, gentle thrusts, you can't help but wonder,

Was he capable of more than just cruelty and violence? Or was this just another part of his twisted game, designed to confuse and disorient you before claiming you completely?

"Feeling good, little bird?", he coos.

"Y-yes lord."

"Just for you, little bird. I'll be as gentle as silk." Sukuna whispers, his pace slowing down even further. His two hands hold your legs, and the third one strokes his ignored dick, a strange tongue formed from his hand slides against it. His fourth hand slides down to stroke your clit. The sudden burst of pleasure elicits a gasp from you.

"It feels so good, Lord Sukuna."

"Good. Enjoy it while you can." His thumb circles your clit, tongue formed from his hand occasionally lapping at it making your body flinch, taunting you with orgasm and drawing it out until your core is begging for release.

"Please, I am going to release, my lord", you eyes pleading him to let you release.

"I know.." Sukuna's breath hitches,"I've never been so careful with anyone, especially a mere mortal." His voice dripped with arrogance.

His two shafts pulsated, straining for release.

He hisses at your tightness as you squeeze his dick, creaming it white. Your moans echo through the room.

"Ah, so sweet, hmph,"  he purrs.

Without missing a beat, Sukuna switches the shaft currently inside you with the one he was stroking. He leans down and takes the newly freed member into his abdominal mouth. The sight of his shaft being devoured by his cursed abdomen sends shivers down your spine.

Sukuna seems to notice the direction of your gaze."They both want to be in you, sweetheart. Perhaps not today... I shall claim you with one of my dicks only."

"Love you..," your tone barely audible.

"Love me?" Sukuna's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing. This affection was unexpected, especially from someone he was about to devour a while ago. Yet, there is something intriguing about it. "Love? What do you know of love, little bird?"

He continues to move inside you, his pace increasing ever so slightly. Each thrust is deeper and harder than the last.

"I just know you are never going to hurt me. That's enough for me to love you."

Sukuna laughs cruelly, his hips moving faster now. His laughter echoes in the room, filled with both scorn and amusement. "Oh, how naïve you are. Perhaps I will love you back on one condition."

Your stomach bulges with each thrust, revealing a glimpse of his massive member. It moves in and out of you, leaving behind a trail of pleasure and pain.

With every thrust, your cheeks redden, and your eyes lock onto his.

"Will you be able to bear my child?"

You bite your already swollen lips, thinking your future with the curse king.

"Answer me!" Sukuna roars, slamming into you harder; his need for confirmation is overwhelming.

You swallow hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Yes! Yes, Lord Sukuna! I'll bear your child!"

"Good. You deserve my love then." Sukuna kisses your neck, then his tongue slides down your sternum to your breasts, his shaft disappearing entirely before re-emerging from between your legs.

"You'll bear my child, and you'll remember me every time you look at them. You'll remember your lord." Each word carries the weight of ownership, sealing your fate.

His eyes gleam with anticipation, imagining the sight of your breasts swelling with milk. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

"Imagine it, your nipples engorged, milk from them flowing freely. Yes, that would be lovely." His grip tightens on her hip, his thrusts becoming deeper and more possessive. His mouth sucks on your nipples while one of his hands pinches your nipples, thinking about how they would look, swollen and ready to feed his future kids. With each squeeze and suckle, you whimper, your body writhing beneath him. This is a future you never expected, but somehow, it excites you more than terrifies you.

His thrusts grow longer and slower, each one filled with possession and dominance. His mouth moves from one breast to the next, licking and sucking while his hand plays with the other.

"So close, are we?" His voice was low and seductive, promising pleasure and pain.

"Please, Lord, fill me. Fill me with your seed," you speak out the words you never imagined, you will say.

"So desperate, already? You beg well, sweetheart." Sukuna chuckles, his hips pumping faster. His breathing's ragged, and his gaze fixed on your face. "Are you sure you want this?"

Your lips swollen and red from biting as you let go of your moans while you orgasm again.

He does not wait for an answer, instead driving deep into you and filling you completely. His hot seed spills into your womb, marking you forever. His other dick squirts, landing on your chest and tummy. His eyes darken, and his entire body becomes tense.

"Now, you carry a piece of me. Forever bound to me."

Once spent, he collapses onto her, his breath ragged. His mouth found the curve of her neck, licking gently. "We have a deal, little bird. You bear my children, and I'll protect you. Our bond is sealed now."

"Look at you," Sukuna murmurs, pushing himself off your body. Standing up, he steps back to survey his art.

The mess is undeniable—your chest and belly covered in his seed, your thighs wet with evidence of their coupling.

His finger circles around your nipple, sending shockwaves through your body.

"How messy and used you look right now. Covered head to toe in my filth. I've claimed you and marked my territory for you. No one will dare touch you again. I'll leave you here to rest, my queen. When morning comes, Uraume will take care of you."

"I love you, my queen,"  he says, kissing your temple, letting you drift into the kingdom of dreams, where you are taking care of lord sukuna's kids.

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs used for inspo: Prologue (the enchantress), Main Title: Prologue, Act 1 Pas d'action rose adage

art credit goes to Marbipa

Warnings: none for now

words: 518

chapter 1>>

Prologue

Once upon a time… in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a beautiful castle...

The prince was spoiled, foolish, arrogant, and unkind. He exploited the nearby villages to fill his castle with the most beautiful things whether that would be jewelry, furniture, and women. He would have extravagant balls in his castle and even mistreated the servants who served him…

It was a cold and snowy night. It was the prince’s 20th birthday; he held a party with all the riches anyone could imagine. He danced, wined, and played around with his objects. The prince enjoyed his birthday lavishly while not caring that his servants were being almost trampled on. The party continued on for hours until there was a knock on the castle doors, he opened the door and looked down to see a poor beggar woman. “Please sir…accept this single rose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold” she weakly said. The prince huffed and laughed in her face “As if, I don't need a rose from such an old woman from you…besides I have all the roses that I could ever have...” 

The guests in the party laughed along as well as they mocked the beggar woman. Before the prince was even able to close the door on her, she muttered something softly “do not be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within...” The prince looks at her annoyed and dismisses her again. Then all of a sudden, a bright light emanated from the old woman, her ugliness melting away, her form changing, her appearance suddenly becoming more youthful to reveal a beautiful, giant, and terrifying enchantress. The prince in shock fell on his knees and stared in awe as all of his guests screamed and ran away from the castle, away from what the enchantress might do. “NO, NO... Please… HAVE MERCY ON ME... I WAS WRONG” the prince said, as he wept and begged for forgiveness. However, it was too late…the enchantress could see that there was no love in his heart, she pointed the rose at him and as punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast. The prince cried in agony as his limbs and appearance changed, he became larger, furrier, his hands became paws, his crimson eyes became red, his cries became roars. The enchantress also placed a powerful spell on the castle and on all who lived there. 

Ashamed of his horrid appearance, the prince shunned himself inside the castle with only a magic mirror as his only way to peer into the world outside the castle. The rose that the enchantress offered, was in actuality an enchanted rose which would bloom for many years. If the prince learned how to love someone and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell from the rose, the spell would be broken. If not…he would be doomed to become a beast for all eternity. As the days turned into months and eventually years… the prince fell into a deep despair and lost all hope 

.....For whom could ever learn…to love a beast?

[gigabyte-flare]

The Ferocious Beast

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: After an intense night with your wolf Thiren partner, your unsuspecting daughter notices a peculiar mark on your skin. Lycaon wastes no time mischievously adding fuel to the fire.

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: dubcon, unprotected p in v, pinning, biting, mating press, knotting, breeding kink, creampie, pregnancy mention

A/N: This came to be thanks to the horny thoughts of myself and @vampiricgf and my equally horny thoughts of Lycaon being a dad. I dedicate this to all my Lycaon besties in the little community we made on here! Line break divider by cafekitsune

You had no idea what had gotten into him. You had come home from work to find Lycaon making dinner, same as any other evening; your six year old daughter having come home a couple hours prior from school. She was sitting at the kitchen table drawing another picture of her Mommy and Daddy with her beloved crayons. Your heart warmed when you saw her tiny little ears flick forward at your arrival, wasting no time to jump up from her chair to give you a hug and welcome you home. Meanwhile, Lycaon simply looked over at you, a smirk crossing his lips before returning his attention to making dinner. He was strangely quiet for the rest of the evening until he put your daughter to bed.

You didn't even have time to react, immediately upon entering the bedroom, Lycaon had shut and locked the bedroom door and pinned you face first into your shared bed. Your pants were an absolute goner, having been torn off you and discarded before burying his face into your folds, inhaling your scent deeply.

"It took everything in me not ravish you as soon as you walked through the front door…" Lycaon had said with a breathy growl before gliding his tongue from your throbbing clit to your leaking hole.

Your body had shuddered, your fingers gripping into the sheets as your knees dug into the mattress, completely at Lycaon's mercy as he fucked you with this tongue. It wasn't until this very moment with your torso being pressed into the mattress by one of Lycaon's massive hands on your back as his cock rams into you that you realize that he is in his rut. His other hand gripping your hip like a vice, feeling his claws dig into your skin as you feel your cunt begin to stretch around his knot with each of his powerful thrusts.

Abruptly, he pulls out. You begin to whine in protest as drool spills from the corner of your mouth when he flips you over onto your back, his hands spreading your legs open to settle his hips against yours. His throbbing member has no trouble slipping back inside and he takes your legs and drapes them onto his shoulders, practically folding you in half as he resumes his grueling pace inside you. Grasping both your wrists, he pins your hands above your head as he lets out a guttural growl, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"Let me give you my knot, my little dove…" he moans into you, his thrusts becoming slower but more powerful.

That nickname sends chills straight to your cunt, feeling your walls squeeze around his cock as his knot threatens to seal the two of you together.

A couple of tears involuntarily stream down the sides of your face as you nuzzle your face against his; finally, you give him a subtle nod before whispering, "go ahead, Lycaon…"

With a snap of his hips, you feel his knot pop inside you, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each thrust now. His instincts taking hold, his cock aggressively rabbits into you, his claws digging into your wrists as he practically fucks you into the mattress. He lets out another growl as his thrusts become more erratic until finally he pushes himself as deep inside you as he possibly can, his powerful jaw latching onto the crook of you neck as he comes. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come undone with him, moaning his name as your legs quiver on his shoulders as he pumps you full of his seed.

Once he comes down from his high, Lycaon's entire body weight collapses on top of you after moving your legs off his shoulders, feeling his tongue lap up where he had sunk his teeth into your neck as his arms wrap around your body. You drape your arms around his shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze as you kiss the side of his muzzle. Meanwhile your legs gently wrap around his waist, knowing full well his knot is going to keep the two of you sealed together for a majority of the night. It doesn't take long for exhaustion to consume you both and you drift into a dreamless sleep.

The smell of breakfast and coffee drags you from the realm of sleep, your eyes fluttering open only to wince at the sun pouring in from the windows, the gentle late summer breeze caressing your senses. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up in bed; Lycaon is unsurprisingly already up. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, your legs still a little wobbly from the previous night's escapade. Also unsurprisingly, you find Lycaon had already cleaned you up; how he didn't wake you is beyond you.

Putting on one of Lycaon's button up shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, you slowly make your way out into the kitchen, where you find your daughter and Lycaon already eating breakfast at the kitchen table. Upon seeing you come in, Lycaon immediately stands up.

"Good morning, my love," he says as he opens the oven, taking out a plate that he had been keeping warm for you, "I made you some pancakes with bacon. I do hope you enjoy them."

He sets the plate down just as you take a seat. You look up at him, smiling warmly at him as he walks back over to his seat to finish eating breakfast.

"Good morning, Mommy!" your daughter cheerfully greets you before biting a forkful of pancakes, a big smile spreading across her lips, "Daddy always makes the best pancakes!"

"He sure does, sweetie," you reply softly before taking a bite, closing your eyes to savor the flavor; fluffy and cooked just right.

"What's that on your neck?" your daughter suddenly asks.

Your eyes snap open, your right hand reaching over and feeling where Lycaon's teeth hand sunk into your neck the night before. You don't doubt that there's bruising, too.

Before you can even think of formulating some kind of response, Lycaon replies to your daughter's query as he takes a sip from his coffee mug, "your mother was attacked by a ferocious beast last night."

You look over at Lycaon just as he lowers his mug, the most devious smirk crossing his lips as he gives you a knowing look in his exposed eye. Your heart palpitating in your chest, you kick him under the table, which is immediately followed by a sharp pain going up your leg when your toes make contact with the metal of one of his prosthetic legs.

"Sh-- Ow!" you hiss silently as you reach down to massage your toes.

"What was that?!" your daughter once again asks.

"That would be the ferocious beast eating your mother's toes." Lycaon replies nonchalantly, that smirk still on his face as he closes his eye while taking another sip from his coffee.

"Oh no, not Mommy's toes!"

"Lycaon!" you say as you give him a playful shove to his shoulder.

You weren't sure if it was instinct or fate that a few weeks later, you decide to pick up a pregnancy test at the store after work. You can't say you were entirely surprised when the result came up positive.

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝

Parings: Alys Rivers x reader, Daemyra x reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, choking, incest, slight dubcon (under the influence of magic)

You had yet to decide if being forced to travel to Harrenhal alone in the name of your brother and king, Aegon, to persuade the river lords to fight for him was the best or worst thing to happen to you during the war. You arrived days before Daemon did, but you had barely spoken to anyone; you had been far too trapped in your own mind to rally an army.

“Good girl, just like that.”

Alys’s praise causes the throbbing between your legs to worsen. If the rumors were to be believed, Alys Rivers was a witch, and you weren’t sure if you believed she was anything other than a temptress. From the moment your dragon landed at Harrenhal, you sensed something shifting—a charge in the air. You arrived during the hour of the owl, and Ser Simon Strong had been a gracious hoist and honest about not bending the knee to Aegon from the beginning. He also warned you to stay away from Alys.

She starts rutting against your face while you suck on her clit. “Are you going to do everything I say, precious?”

Unable to answer verbally, you nod.

“Good. I know that tongue of yours can be used for more than just a witty comeback, so I expect you to use it on the silver-haired queen.”

You nod again.

Alys looks down at you with a smirk on her face; she thrives welding such power over a dragon. She strokes your hair and says, “You’ll take the king consort's seed and seduce the queen. Pleasure her as you do me.”

Perhaps Alys was a witch; it was the only logical reason why you would agree to such a thing.

Alys squeezes your breast, causing you to press your thighs together. She moans, “I want you to moan for them. Let them hear the sweet sounds of you coming undone.”

You finally remove your mouth from her cunny. “What do I do after?”

“When they are done fucking you, you come and find me.” She smiles down at you, her hand delicately resting above your forehead. “But first, you will finish pleasuring me, and then I shall return the favor until the time is right.”

—

“She’s been too busy burying her head between the witch's thighs to raise an army.”

Daemon wasn’t wrong; you were preoccupied with Alys when Rhaenyra arrived at Harrenhal. The army her husband had gathered bent the knee to her, and the couple had reunited. You raise your brows, challenging him, “Jealous?”

His lips twitch as he fights back the urge to lash back, but the look on Rhaenyra's face prevents him from saying anything further. She had you brought to their bedchamber to speak in privacy. “Last we spoke, you mentioned your mother was pushing to find you a match; did you make one?”

“I refused every man she put before me.”

The line of questioning had nothing to do with the war being waged. Perhaps the witch was messing with everyone's minds.

“Why?” She asks sternly.

“Mirre se vali sia nākostōbā.” (All the men were weak.)

She smirks, “You want to marry someone who shares the blood of the dragon.”

“No, I don’t want to marry them. I just want their seed.” You chuckle, “Don’t look so surprised, sister; we both know the men we choose to marry don’t need to father whatever children we bear. I don’t see an issue with wanting to keep our bloodline pure.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a look. They silently exchange words, and when Rhaenyra nods her husband's strut over to you, he takes your chin in his hand. “The queen is not only generous; she is merciful. She will spare your life and will allow me to fill you with my seed, but only if you swear to fight for her.”

“I swear.”

“Sȳz riña.” (Good girl)

Rhaenyra traces her hand along the curve of your ass. “The child and any dragon they bond with will only fight for me.”

“Yes.”

Daemon comes up behind you and rubs your breasts through your dress. When he feels your nipples become hard, he pinches them. His lips brush against your ear. “Say yes, my queen.”

“Yes, my queen.”

He chuckled cruelly, “such a wanton princess.

“A spoilt princess,” Rhaenyra adds. “Strip for us.”

Quickly, you take off your dress and stand naked in front of them. The thought of being touched by them both excited and terrified you.

Rhaenyra looks you up and down with a wicked smile on her face. “Lay on your back and open your legs.”

Following her command, you get onto the bed and lay on your back. The blue sheets beneath you are soft against your skin. Heat rushes to your cheeks when you spread your legs open and expose yourself to both of them.

Rhaenyra tuts seeing how wet you are. “And I suppose I’ll need to make sure you’re ready to take the king's cock,” her tone mocking, yet she slides her nails across the soft flesh of your thigh, then slides a finger into your wet cunny with ease. “She is tight.”

“Oh,” Daemon taps his cock against your mouth. As soon as your lips parted, Daemon shoved himself into your mouth. “You are indeed a merciful queen.”

Rhaenyra removed her own clothing; the curves of her body are a beautiful sight to see. She stands between your legs and leans down. She flicks her tongue over your clit a few times, but when you moan, she stops. “You are enjoying this far too much. This is a privilege you should be working harder for.”

Like an obedient worker in a pillow house, you take him deeper into your mouth. Daemon groans, feeling the vibrations of you gagging on his cock. He wipes the saliva pooling from your mouth and spreads it across your breasts. “You enjoy being used; perhaps we will bring you back to Dragonstone to be the queen's whore. Would you like that?”

You nod while choking on him.

“She’s so wet.” Rhaenyra kneels between your thighs, and her tongue dips in between your folds.

Daemon pulls his cock from your mouth and watches as his wife scissors two fingers inside your cunt and sucks on your clit, stretching you out for him. From the skilled way Rhaenyra fucks you with her finger and mouth, you know this isn’t the first time she’s touched a woman.

Coming undone, you arch your back and coat her fingers with your juices.

Rhaenyra and Daemon switch places, and while he slides the head of his cock between your folds, you take Rhaenyra's breast into your mouth and suck greedily.

Daemon mumbles something in High Valyrian, then roughly pushes into you, stretching your cunt on his cock.

Feeling your body tense, Rhaenyra glides her hand over your stomach and, using two fingers, starts rubbing your clit. “You are taking him well. Is this your first time being bedded by a man?”

You let go of her breast to answer her, “Yes.”

Daemon lightly slaps your thigh.

“Yes, my queen.”

Smirking Daemon says, “The princess is learning quickly.”

Alys voice echoes inside your head, telling you to please Rhaenyra just as you did her. “My queen, please, let me pleasure you with my mouth.”

Her free hand is suddenly around your neck, and Rhaenyra squeezes hard to make you squirm without completely cutting off your air supply. Her lips graze against yours. “Do you think you deserve to taste me?”

“No, my queen, I don't. But I do wish to make you feel good.”

Rhaenyra smashes her lips against yours, then abruptly pulls away. Daemon speeds up his thrusts while Rhaenyra gets onto the bed and straddles your face. Alys has taught you how to fuck a woman with your tongue and fingers, and it doesn’t take Rhaenyra long to start moaning your name.

Her screams of pleasure are silenced by Daemon when he captures his lips.

The sounds of them kissing are exhilarating. Your legs are gripped tightly and held open wider as Daemon’s thrusts become sloppy. It only takes a few more rubs at your clit for you to come undone again, but your moans are muffled by Rhaenyra’s cunt. The vibrations of your moans tip her over the edge; she squeezes your breast harshly while riding her high against your face.

Daemon fingers dig into your hips. He grunts, spilling his seed inside you.

Rhaenyra gets off you and tenderly kisses your neck; her skin is shinny with sweat, and her head is disheveled. She looks beautiful. “What are you thinking about, princess?”

“That Harrenhal is cursed.”

Confused by your answer, she rests her head against your shoulder while Daemon caresses your leg with one hand and strokes his half-erect cock with the other. The king consort was far from done with you.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear Alys giggling. Taking Daemon’s seed was only the beginning of her plan.

[camlovesjace]

BASTARD ! J.V

summary: As his son reaches four namedays Jace cannot longer ignore the whispers of the people, how it seemed too "obvious" to everyone that his own child -the one his wife had gave him- was a bastard and he could not longer bear hear of that. warnings: swearing, use of bad words, argue, p in v, aggressive/possessive jace, NOT cheating.

He slammed the door which caused the maidens to ran away as soon as they could, Haena sighs and left her cup of tea over the edge of the table. No one was into their bedchambers at this hour but the princess was sure her husband's deep breaths were being heard by the whole island.

"They said it again?" she asked, only causing Jace to throw the things off of the table, including her cup.

"Those fucking traitors" he shouted, Haena get up from her chair and walked towards him, trying to bring him some solace by caressing his tense shoulders. And it worked "I will cut their tongues one by one before the dawn"

"Jacaerys" she whispers and he moves his hand up, almost in a plea for her to not give him another sermon about the mercy a future king should have. Like she had done before.

"He´s mine..." Jacaerys says, his jaw clenching. Their child had blonde hair, the same as any other Targaryen before him, the same as his mother has "He´s mine in every single sense of the damned word"

"You know he is, who cares what others think?" his wife asks, her smaller hands caressing his back, trying to light the tension on his body.

"I care" he says, taking a deep breath. His face was warm, and his hands were closed into a fist, over the big and now empty table "This rumors, it will haunt him...as much as mines haunt me until this days. You don't know how is to grew up with the shadow of bastardy over your shoulder..."

Haena sighs and rest his chin on the shoulder of her husband, her hands moving to his chest but she could still feel the anger under the sadness of his words. The need to protect their child, his heir, from those who could want to haim him.

"You're mine too" he says, and she nods but he breaks the hug to turn around and pull her into his arms, his hands squeezing the flesh of everything he could reach "You heard me? You´re mine, and every child of your womb is fucking mine too"

She gasp when he kisses her, his lips devouring hers with a hunger of a starved man. She have had the pleasure of feel how his rage turned into something more primal when it comes to her, of course she have had the pleasure...the last time she did her stomach grew swollen with his child. Their only child...yet.

His hands moves to her dress, pulling it out desperately, leaving her bare and exposed over the table, his fingertips moving to her throat to hold her in place as his lips returns to hers. She moaned and her cunt squeezed on a delicious ways, excited to take him in once again.

She could feel how she started getting wet by the just thought of her husbands cock, that inviting cock that always made her come undone into his arms. Yet it seemed like Jace had other plans, when his hands leaved her throat to push her down the table, his gentle movement were a dark contrast to the roughness she knows she will get from him tonight.

His tongue played with the hard and sensitive nipples, she closed her eyes and buried her fingertips on his dark curls, the curls her child had. His mouth leaved her breast after a few, his mouth desperate to taste the sweetness of her cunt. Jace could feel his cock beating and getting warm as the seconds past, the fabric of his pants getting tighter as his mouth found his wife´s womanhood.

He moaned against her cunt and she arched her back against the wood of the table, he left out a small chuckle, laughing at the thought of people thinking his wife was taking someone else's seed instead of his own.

"Like if i could let anyone else seeing you like this, all bare and whimpering for more of my damn cock or tongue" he said and she smiled as his words, enjoying a lot his dirty talk. Two of his fingers fucked her with not announcement in such a deliciously way that made her cry out his name, he moved them in and out, caressing her core and feeling how her walls tried to milk them out.

Yet he was not for teasing, he needed something and he was just preparing her. His hand leaved her and the way he pulled back slightly made her gasp is frustration, her noises making him chuckle.

"I'm gonna ate your cunt all night darling, but now i want you to take my seed once again, okay?" he said and she nodded, then she sees how he pulls his pants down, leaving his hard cock at the sight. She moaned and then he took her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the table.

"You'll make me another baby?" she asks, almost mocking him, but that was all she wanted. Their only child was four name days now, she needed to have another of his child, many of them if the god´s wanted to.

He slipped in, his curved cock against her soaked and thigh walls, the tip of it hitting that sweet spot on her cunt only him knew where it was, she whimper his name over and over as his hips started moving with more urgency and desperation, his movements almost brutal making her bounce over his body, his cock moving in and out of her and the slaps of their thighs together created a sinful song in the silence of their bedchambers.

Her hands rested on the back of his neck, as he buried his face in the valley of her breast, making her shiver as his teeth and tongue toyed with her nipples. His grip on her hips was almost bruising and, when she thought he could no do it better, he quicken his pace.

She was sure her cries of pleasure were being heard by everyone on this damn island, yet she could not find any reason to care about it, she found no shame in letting everyone know her husband made her squirm on his arms, his thum rolled over her swollen pearl and soon her release came.

She did not wanted to cum so soon, not when she could feel how his cock was still deliciously hard inside her but she also knew shell have more of him tonight.

His head moved up, his nose against her as she felt how his seed spilled against her squeezing walls, filling her womb. He moved his hips, wanting to take his cum deeper into her cunt, wanting to make her swollen with a child of his again.

"Let's show all those morons that all of my children will have your pretty blonde hair, my queen" he whispers, his nose against hers and his words making her smile. She nodded and sighed, then she felt him lifting her up, walking towards their bed.

She knows tonight they'll make another heir, his determination is enough to make her feel like she could live being her husband's whore.

TAG LIST ! @nebulamorada

[queenimmadolla]

𝐍𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬

Summary: Eddie being sleep deprived because his three month-old baby won't go down for a nap.

A quick little blurb that's been bothering me since last night so I just had to jot it down. More of Eddie and Penny here.

“C’mon, sweet pea. You’re killin me.”

  Eddie sighed, placing his three month-old on her back, alongside him on the bed. 

  Just as she had the last seven times he’d tried to lay her down, his baby began grunting, straining herself as she attempted to sit up on her own, neck muscles working overtime. She wouldn’t be able to sit up, of course. Still smaller than his forearm, Penny was much too little, nor did she have that kind of control over her body, but still she tried, wrinkly fingers curling into fists, face darkening as she trembled and her upper half tensed.

  She could hurt herself, though. So once more, Eddie sighed, carefully lifting her up and settling her on his upper torso, her little head bobbing clumsily in the crook of his neck as she continued to grunt and squeak.

  Penny wasn’t supposed to be awake, she was fighting sleep and doing so fiercely. Twenty-seven minutes past her nap time and she was trying to stare at the world around her in wonder rather than rest as she should so she wouldn’t be up through the night and keeping the two of you up. But this was now Penny’s world. And they were just living in it and caring for her, completely at her mercy.

  He’d set the sleepmosphere; turned off the lights, closed his blinds, and was playing a lullaby that came from the giant baby monitor that stayed above her crib. Plus, his little baby had a plump tummy full of breastmilk and no gas to upset her. Eddie had rocked her until she got quiet, but everytime he so much as peaked around to see if her big brown eyes were open, they were. Wide open and flickering to everything in the room, little mouth parted in awe. She even had the audacity to struggle against his hand, cradling the back of her soft and dainty head.

  Penny was getting stronger and stronger every day.

  “Okay, why don’t we make a deal? You go to sleep right now, and I’ll convince your mom to up the ounces of your bottles and distract her with conversation when she’s breastfeeding you. Look at that, you’d get more food and more rest. It’s a win-win because then you wouldn’t be screeching at daddy in the middle of the night while he’s sleep deprived and warming up a bottle for you.”

  And when he felt his baby’s bobble head whack into the side of his neck, “That’s unnecessary. I made you a fair offer with no cons on your part—violence is not the answer.”

  He waited a beat, eyes staring at the wall as he became overly aware of the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion that had settled over him that he’d since learned to run on. Eddie had reached the manic state already, now it was just acceptance.

  Penny let out a particularly protesting squeak, loud and demanding as she seemed to finally run out of strength, face rubbing into his collar bone until she could replenish it and lift her head again.

  “Fine. You win. Just know, when I’m old and senile and you’ll have to change my diapers, I will be returning the favor.”

[bella-goths-wife]

I really enjoy your work with the Vees and Sound manipulation Reader, I’m curious about how Alastor would react to the fact the Vees having a ‘pet’ with that power?

Alastors reaction to the Vs pet

Warnings: alastor, violence, terrible foreshadowing, poor reader is uncomfortable

Alastor had actually met you before you became the Vs pet, just before his 7 year disappearance

You were a fresh soul in hell and just figuring out how to survive and use your ability to your advantage

It was quite similar to how you met vox, you were unaware of how powerful alastor was and you tried to surprise attack him with your ability so you could rob him

You used your sound manipulation to create a loud noise in his ears to try and shock him but a shadowed hand grabbed you before you could do anything more

“Afraid that won’t work on me, my dear” he said with an irritated grin as he turned to you “now, why don’t you tell me your name and what you think your doing”

His shadows had tightened around you as you hurriedly explained your situation and begged for mercy

There was something so familiar about you to alastor, your eyes almost looked identical to someone he once knew

He examined you carefully and took in your appearance as you begged and couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity that seemed to come from looking at your eyes

“Well my dear, considering your also a fellow lover of music I’ll forgive you for your ignorance” alastor had said with a grin as his shadow let go of you and you fell to the ground “come along darling, I wish to discuss many things with you”

He bought you dinner and watched as you ate it with gusto, realising how hungry you must have been

He had you explain your ability to him in great detail with the promise of more food if you did so

He noted that it was unusually generous of him, but he just couldn’t shake his curiosity

After you explained everything to him, he simply nodded and with a click of his fingers he gave you more appropriate clothes to keep you warm

He gave you the simple advice of learning who to charm and who to steal from, promising you that he believed you had the ability to charm the entire pentagram of you used your abilities correctly

After that he disappeared and a few years later you worked for vox

Upon alastors return, you crossed his mind a few times a week as he wondered what happened to you

It wasn’t until he saw you on angel dusts cellphone and questioned him about it

He said that what alastor saw was a post on velvette’s social media, and the post featured a picture of you dressed in lavish clothes that matched velvettes

Velvette had her hand resting on your shoulder as she commanded you to pose, and alastor couldn’t help the look of disgust that crossed his face

In truth, after hearing of Charlie’s hotel he had hoped to find you and enlist your help for his own entertainment

But to see you with the Vs, who exploited your ability in all the wrong ways, he felt nothing but more disgust and resentment towards them

When he said you should charm people so you could survive, he meant people who were worth more than those tacky Vs

And the worst part of it was that he still felt some type of familiarity from you, and his intrigue wouldn’t let him just let him let it go

So don’t worry darling, alastor will find a way to speak to you somehow

He has to, he needs to figure out what connection you have to him to make you so intriguing

And to find out why only you and him shared music based abilities

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. V

sorry for the wait, I'm trying to do a mix of longer and shorter chaps depending on how much time I have. Love yall 🩷

tags- @beebeechaos @hueanhdang @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew

cw- blood, death

"I'll find her." Cregan promised the she-dragon, not stopping to wonder if it understood his common tongue.

He sat upon Red's saddle, looking out into the dim forest. He prayed of the old Gods that she was only lost.

🗡

Daenys had yet to find her mysterious calling. It wasn't a voice or a message, but a persistent tug in the forefront of her unconscious mind. The snow seemed to fall harder the deeper she continued into the forest. She was unsure which way she had come from, but knew it didn't matter now.

White fortresses of snow grew all around her, trapping her from going any other direction. Squinting, she could barely make out a few feet in front of her face. This must be some cruel game the gods were playing, toying with the Princess before leading her to her doom. Perhaps a frozen lake would be fitting. She wouldn't even know that she was standing in the middle of one until she was frozen in the icy depths.

Or mayhaps a cliff so monstrous that the jagged edges left nothing of her mortal body left behind. Whatever it was, Daenys just wished she would reach it already. Now that she was wide-awake, the cold was getting to her, mentally and physically. Even the well-suited fur dress was not enough to keep her alive forever. She needed fire, warmth.

And what of her most recent vision? Tame in nature, but harrowing to her poor heart nonetheless. Daenys had never seen Rhaenyra so undignified before, flying on Syrax in a dirty, worn dress and covered in soot and sand. Her hair was in a loose braid, clearly one meant for sleep and not council duties. She was searching for something that no one else could find. A dragon, perhaps? Maybe Seasmoke had become active again after his depressive state from Laenor's passing. The grey dragon had always liked Rhaenyra. The married couple often rode their dragons together to spend time away from King's Landing. Daenys was sure it would obey her still.

But that look on her face. The same one she wore after returning from her birthing room, without baby Visenya in her arms. Puffy face, red eyes, downtrodded posture unbefitting of the new Queen. It was all the same in her dream, maybe even worse. Daenys was glad that her mother was with Syrax, for the she dragon would keep her safe no matter what.

She smiled slightly at the remembrance of Syrax, the princess dragoness. Though Morningstar was not born from Syrax's clutch, the two had bonded as if they were truly kin. Daenys had even commissioned an iron star-shaped chain to be the dragonsaddle's chestpiece. Rhaenyra had given Syrax a similar heart-shaped chestpiece in her youth and was happy to see the white dragon doning a matching article.

Daenys suddenly felt a pang in her heart, clutching the star necklace hanging at her neck. Guilty ate at her for leaving her loyal dragon behind. She missed her warmth.

She missed Cregan's, too.

She longed for either's protective embrace in this desolate wood.

"Find me," she whispered to the nothingness. The air seemed to still, freezing Daenys in place. She listened for something, anything. She no longer felt the incessant tug. Her mind cleared.

A crunch of snow was her answer.

But Daenys hadn't moved an inch.

"Cregan?" She asked, louder. "Are you here?"

No answer but the one in the wind, like a solemn wolf's howl.

Another crunch. Another step. Cregan would've answered her by now, surely. He was not one for callous pranks or jests. Daenys wasn't alone anymore. Was this the destination? Her mind's call? Would it be a wise seer, or a vessel sent by the gods to deliver a message? Swallowing, she hoped that the entity was merciful.

A low growl answered her desperate wishes.

A wolf.

Not Dusk.

Shit.

Daenys stilled her breaths, bracing her legs into the snow. What does a weaponless person do in the face of a predator? She'd never been taught such survival methods. The Red Keep's wildlife consisted of garden rabbits and squirrels, and Dragonstone had naught but sea creatures and crabs at its disposal.

Her eyes caught the slow movement of the creatures paw, striking dread straight into her heart. The form was smaller than Dusk, by a lot. Direwolves had a size no natural animal compared to. But this one seemed smaller than an average wolf, too. Perhaps a wolf in its teen years, just recently leaving its pack to stake his place in the world.

It was a slim thing, thick coat not enough to hide its ribs. Poor thing. It was starving, clearly. Daenys would have the heart to help it if only she wasn't the current prey he had in mind.

It was survival of the fittest in this world, after all. A dragon and a wolf. Any person with common sense would declare the dragon the victor before the fight could even start. But what was the blood of the dragon without the dragon? Daenys began to wonder if there was anything special about the Targaryens besides their dragons. They gained no special traits. No endurance, strength, speed. Without Morningstar, was Daenys worthy of her namesake? Lightbringer, the realm lovingly called the beast. Fearsome and powerful, a shame that the dragon will never be given glory like other dragons of history.

The dragon wouldn't be winning wars, protecting Westeros, or even stationed at a House to guard. All because of the rider she was bestowed.

A wolf does not care for blood.

They stared at each other, neither blinking nor moving.

Run or fight.

Run or fight?

Her only two options, and both would lead to her death. It wasn't nearly as merciful and quick as a frozen lake or a jagged cliff would be. No, she would be torn apart kicking and screaming.

If she charged it, would it run or have the courage to meet her head on? No, it would not back down. A starving dog hunts best. A starving wolf cannot risk failure.

What would Rhaenyra do? What would Daemon do?

Rhaenyra might stand her ground, ever the Dragon Queen she was. Mighty and proud, though she wielded no sword or plated armor.

Daemon wouldn't hesitate, drawing Dark Sister from its sheathe, beheading the wolf with a triumphant laugh.

Daenys was neither her mother nor her step-father, though she wished futility to be an image of them.

Cregan? Perhaps he would tame yet another wolf, seeing as he clearly had an affinity.

What would a northerner like Cregan Stark do in the face of a wild wolf? Unarmed, unshielded. Pray? Take the death as the will of the Gods? Maybe.

Daenys Velayron was far from a northerner. Fire and blood hot through her veins, not ice or faith. The way of the dragon was to be unchained, forever standing tall above the realm.

Though, wild animals have no reason to care for heritage or blood. The meat on her bones was all it could see.

A wolf does not care for blood.

Daenys exhaled, long and slow. Run or fight. Fighting a starved wolf meant death, instantly. Running gave her a chance at finding a tree or rock to climb–anything to get her a vantage point.

The choice was clear.

She just needed to act.

To turn your back on a predator was to sign your own life away.

Daenys, ever so slow, unbuckled her fur coat from her shoulders. The grey wolf eyed it, snarling. Its yellow eyes grew brighter, like two harvest moons shining against the fallen snow.

Daenys mustered up all the courage she could manage, heart pounding, throwing the fur coat across the distance to the wolf. Immediately, it took it in its maw and ripped its head back and forth wildly. If it were a hot-blooded prey, the coat would be dead with blood spattered all over the snow.

Daenys ran, wasting no time watching the display.

She hoped to blind it temporarily, but it catching the furs was a better outcome than missing entirely.

She panted, adrenaline coursing through her to give warmth and strength to her limbs. They burned with the sudden exertion. Daenys could hear the wolf throwing the fur away, not being able to gather any sustenance from the useless garb.

It barked frustratedly at her disappearance from his sight, quickly giving chase to the girl.

Daenys could only hear her heart beat out of her chest and the sounds of the snarling chasing her, closer every second. Her eyes flew around wildly, hoping to spot a low-hanging but sturdy branch. Kind of difficult when running at full speed. Screeching at a bite nipping at her heels, she jumped to the nearest branch she could reach, not having any time left to search. Daenys managed to pull half of her body over it before the wolf's teeth were on her skirts, tugging violently.

She cried out as she hit the cold floor, winded from the wall. The wolf planted itself over her, leaving no room for escape, nipping at her face. Her arm instinctively flew to protect her throat and face, resulting in the wolf's jaw clamping right down on her forearm. She screamed in agony, flames of pain running through her arm. She kicked at its flank while it snarled deep and heavily, salivating through her arm. The blood and saliva from her arm dripped down hot streaks to her face, blinding her.

When the wolf let go of her arm, bracing to go for more vital parts of her to end her squirming, Daenys accepted her fate. The kicks had done nothing. It hadn't moved an inch nor showed signs of pain. At least her death wouldn't be completely useless. The wolf would be fed, for perhaps a few weeks until it could find another easy prey.

Above her, the yellow eyes were lit with hungry and drive.

Daenys closed her eyes tight, hoping for the end to be swift.

But, she did not feel the jaws of death.

She felt the hot sting of blood being poored onto her exposed skin. She shot up, feeling the head of the wolf fall onto her chest. In a horrific pool of blood and bone, the wolf's head went to her lap as she sat up. Daenys froze, chest heaving with panicked breaths. She wanted to toss the head off of her, throw up, and cry all at once. But she was frozen with shock.

"Is that you, Princess?"

That was not Cregan.

Daenys lifted her gaze from the head to the voice. A man, tall and sharply built, dressed in all black. Perhaps close to Daemon's age, with a salt-and-peppered black beard and hair.

She could only stare at him, eyes wide with terror and adrenaline leaving her body. The pain in her arm was flaring, only growing as it bled onto the snow. It could hardlt be called snow anymore, the radious around Daenys was pure blood red, including herself. Her hair was dyed red, too, sullying into her usually perfect white. She was sure she would never feel clean again, that the hot blood would remain on her forever.

"My lady, focus on me." His words were stern as he knelt to meet the Princess, a hand on her face.

She listened, looking into his crystaline blue eyes. A northerner, he must be, born and raised. "...Ser?" She whispered, hoarse.

He nodded, focusing her face to his and not letting her gaze drift. "Where are you, Princess?"

The question startled her from despondency, confused. "Where am I? The North?" She asked.

He chuckled at her bemusement. "Aye, lass. Very good. What's your name?"

She felt annoyed suddenly, this man was asking very stupid and obvious questions. He called her Princess, he must know the answer. "Daenys Velayron. Who are you?"

"The man who saved your life. You're very welcome, by the way." He smirked crookedly, chortling when she only narrowed her eyes.

"Seamus Knott, at your service, My Lady. I am sworn to the Wall, though, so I am no Ser." He bowed dramatically, though his bitter smile showed his discontent with his position. Perhaps he was sent to the wall in a way he deemed unjustified. Whatever the reason was, Daenys did not want to be alone with him for long. The Night's Watch was loyal to the crown in respect only. She was content to visit, but only because Cregan would be there to look after her. Theives and rapers were a majority of the Watch, Daenys did not want to take any chances with them.

"Why are you so far from the wall, Seamus?" Daenys asked him, still sitting lamely in her spot.

He raised a brow, "why are you so far from your protector?"

She bristled, curling in on herself protectively. Had he been following them? For how long?

Seeing her demeanor shift, Seamus raised his hands in a show of surrender. "Not like that, your highness. I was simply speculating. A princess so far in the North hasnt happened in a century. You are news to us all. At Castle Black, we were informed that you would be arriving with Lord Stark soon."

It did make sense. Though, only three days had passed since they left–

"Step away from the Princess." A voice growled behind the Knott man. Daenys perked up at the sound, the familiar tone putting her heart and mind finally at ease. Ice was held straight to the back of his neck, a perfect extension of the Lord's arm.

Cregan stood tall and firm with his expression almost unreadable. Would he be angry with her for her recklessness, send her back to Dragonstone? Or perhaps he was more angry with the Night's Watch for spilling private information to all the residents.

"Cregan!" She gasped, trying to stand to her feet but was stopped by a wave of vertigo. Her feet were like water, unable to hold up any weight. She held her head with her uninjured hand, cradling the pain.

Cregan glanced at her briefly, brow furrowing at the state of her, before he stepped closer to Seamus. The tip was a mere inch away from the man's stubbled neck, though the older man paid it no mind. Grinning, "I saved the poor maiden, she'd be dead by now if I 'aden't. Where were you, Stark?"

Cregan's jaw ticked, "How did you find her? We're too far from any houses for this to be considered a mere coincidence." Clearly, he was ignoring the man's words. Probably because he was right. The blood had long cooled in on top of her, leaving the liquid to intensify her shivering.

Seamus looked down at him over his narrow nose, arrogantly sizing the lord up. His blood-covered steel sword was still at his side, clenched around a gloved fist. "I have been summoned weeks ago to head the beckoning of Lord Tully. I received a raven from Castle Black's Commander only a few days ago, informing me of the Warden escorting the Princess to the Wall. I merely wished to ensure our Princess' safety."

Cregan was unmoved. "I can handle that perfectly well. She is under my protection, my watch."

"Your watch hasn't even begun, Stark. You have no idea what it means to serve the wall. Sitting pretty in Winterfell while we work thanklessly for our keep." Seamus sneered, nasty expression twisting his uncomely features.

"Who's fault is that, Knott?" Cregan bit back. Daenys was left confused at their familiarity. Did they know each other?

Seamus' grip on his sword tightened, the leathery squeeze ringing in Daenys' ears unpleasantly. Her ears rang harshly, blood rushing to her head and drowning other sounds out. About to vomit her rabbit up or faint, she did not know. Dusk, who had been loyally by Cregan's legs, now moved to Daenys' side at the flick of his owner's wrist. She placed an unsteady hand on his brown shoulder, allowing him to take her weight as she leaned into his warmth. He wasn't quite as comforting as Cregan had been, but the relief was nice.

Dusk huffed into her ear, though he still stared up at Seamus the whole time. When Daenys fell asleep, the sound of steel sheathing filled her muffled ears.

🗡

She awoke to a weight over her body, bundled like a blanket. The strong scent of iron and wood filled her nose and surrounded her entirely. She opened her eyes to see Cregan at her side, under the cover of a tent. Looking around, she spotted none of her belongings. His tent. He crouched on his knee, tenderly wiping at her wound with a wet cloth. While he was deep in concentration, his brows knit together tightly, a frown dragging his handsome face down.

"Cregan?" He lifted his head to face her, turning his attention from her arm.

He smiled tightly at her, clearly still bothered by something. "My Lady, I'm glad to see you awake." Cregan told her earnestly.

Daenys sat up with his help, allowing his arm to linger at her back. "What happened to Seamus?"

Clenching his teeth, Cregan fought the urge to roll his eyes childishly. "Outside. Dusk is watching over him. I had to tend to you before I deal with him."

She kissed her teeth when she felt the sting of her arm come back. The wound was clean, though deep and raised. It would scar her for the rest of her life, a painful reminder of her dreadful night.

Cregan, noticing her downturned face, lifted her chin to look up at him instead. "It is a warrior's scar, Princess. We have that in common." He smiled more genuinely now as he lifted his sleeve to reveal his bicep, raised slightly with an old white scar, one that mirrored hers.

"Dusk bit you?" She gasped, brushing her fingertips over the scar. Gingerly, as if she thought it would still hurt him.

He chuckled fondly, watching her eyes rack over the scar. "When we first met. I was six and ten when I first became Lord of Winterfell. I was forced to imprison my uncle and his sons that day to take my place. I left for a solo hunt to be alone for a while.

He found me first. The size of a normal young wolf. We were hunting the same dear when I shot it down first. Dusk didn't take to kindly to that," He gestured to the teeth marks. "But I won that fight, gave him a scar to match. He's stayed by my side ever since." Cregan left out the part where he discovered his soul bonded to Dusk's, due to him being able to warg.

Daenys smiled, moving her hand away from his arm. "I'm glad I didn't have to fight Morningstar to get her to obey me." She laughed. Cregan laughed along, white teeth glinting in the light.

Cregan survived a direwolf attack all on his own when he was but a young man. Daenys would have died without assistance against her attacker when she was a woman grown. Clenching her jaw, she started, "I'm sorry for leaving last night. I...wish I could tell you my reasoning, but I don't know myself."

He took her face in his hand, inspecting it long and hard. Her violet eyes were half-lidded, a sign of her exhaustion. They still shined brightly in the day's light like they always did. Two perfect amethysts looking straight at him.

"You did nothing wrong, sweet girl." Cregan's thumb brushed the apple of her cheek, rubbing at the clear skin. She now noticed the feeling of the sticky blood was gone almost entirely, except from her dress. He had washed it all off of her in her unconsciousness. "You couldn't stop it, could you?"

Like he knew everything, Cregan seemed to hold all the wisdom in the world. Perhaps that was the result of being a Lord at six and ten. "I stopped walking when the wolf came." Daenys nodded.

He kept his hand in its place while he took a moment to think. "I should've been there, It's my duty to keep you safe, and I failed. Seamus is right, the creatin he is. If he hadn't come first, you wouldn't have come home to the Queen."

She smiled crookedly, telling him she was not upset. "From now on, I must insist." He focused entirely on her, making her face feel hot from the intensity. "You be with me at all times. In my tent, hunting with me, Hells, even on horseback with me if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

"I do not wish to be your burden, My Lord."

"I wish it," He shook his head, a secret pang in his heart that she hadn't called him by his name again.

"Even while you hunt? I am not quite as stealthy as you, I would just scare everything away."

"I will teach you." Cregan said firmly, leaving no further room for arguments. "We will stay in larger clearings from now on, even if it means walking greater distances. I want Morningstar to be with us as we sleep. I do not trust Knott."

"Speaking of," she started, tentatively. "How do you know him?"

He sighed deeply, reaching into his satchel bag to grab a roll of bandage. While he worked on wrapping her arm, he spoke. "My father and him grew up together. His brother, the Knott heir, warded with my father for some time to learn his Lordly duties. Seamus just tagged along because his father wished to be rid of him. He was a jealous, spiteful person even as a boy. When their father passed, he left everything to his rightful heir Kent.

Seamus killed him when he had not even been Lord for a year. He was sent to the Night's Watch by my father, a worse punishment than death for a man who only cares for titles and power. In the Watch, all brothers are equal."

"I do not want to kill him because he saved your life. I also do not want him anywhere near you." Cregan grit his teeth, frustrated at his torn opinions. He owed the man what he asked of, which was simply to accompany Cregan and Daenys to the Wall. Cregan cursed himself for his own honor, the Lord of Winterfell always kept his word.

"I promise, if he does anything, anything, to make you uncomfortable, I will take care of him." Cregan told her, earning a short nod from the Princess.

He stood, bandage firmly in place, helping her up with a sturdy hand. "Change your dress and wash up, then I will bring you hunting." It was too early to allow her to sleep, he wanted her to sleep tonight so that they may only travel during the day. They had completely lost this day thanks for the circumstances, and he wanted to spend the remaining time doing something useful. Also, he wanted to keep his mind of maiming Seamus where he stood.

While Daenys changed, she grimaced at the sight of blood that had made it way further down her dress. The garment was not fixable without a miracle, so she left it outside of the tent for Dusk to use as a temporary bed. Less weight for Mylo to carry, she supposed. Daenys scrubbed the dried blood from her neck and chest, not yet able to clean out her hair. That would take running water, not a damp cloth.

Stepping outside, she doned a new white dress, lined with grey fur. The sight of grey reminded her of the young wolf, filling her heart with guilt. She hoped he hadn't felt fear or pain in his quick end. She was met with Seamus, standing a few yards away from her tent. He wore a wild and proud grin, baring his teeth to her.

"Princess! You're awake, how delightful." She nodded her greeting stiffly. "I have a gift for you to take home, a proper warrior's trophy for the Queen." He presented the wolf's head from a bag attached to his belt, its yellow eyes still wide open, but holding none of its previous hunger. Daenys gasped in horror, bringing a hand to her neck. Cregan, who'd been waiting near the edge of camp for her, strided forward.

"Is this a cruel joke on your Princess, Knott?" He began, hand hovering over Ice. Before Seamus or Cregan could begin to argue again, Daenys rushed forward to take the pup's head in her hands. Both men stared at her in surprise.

Without saying a word, though she had many specific words for the brute, she gently held the wolf's severed head as she brought it to Morningstar, who had been laying in the edge of the clearing. She looked grumpy already, perhaps because of the direwolve's irritating presence, but purred when she saw Daenys finally coming to her. Daenys sat the head gently in front of the dragon's head, "Daor havor."

"Dracarys." Daenys commanded the mighty dragon, stepping back many paces. The three people, and the curious direwolf, watched on as the dragon scorched the head until it was naught but ash. The snow around the head had melted to reveal black burnt ground. Silence filled the campground. Daenys bowed her head, whispering to herself. "Kostagon aōha iemny sagon forever lēda sir"

She turned to look up at Seamus, who had a strange look on his face. "That was a cruel thing to do, ser. Not to me, but to the poor animal who lost it's life to starvation."

Seamus clenched his jaw at the scorning, never having been told off by a girl, much less a younger one. "Aye, Princess." Was all he said, trodding off to sulk in his own small tent.

Daenys looked to Cregan, who smiled softly at her. "That was kind of you, my Lady."

She thanked him, "could we find a river before our hunt? I wish to rid my hair of this blood before it becomes permanently red."

He laughed jovially, agreeing. "I do not think red hair would fit you. White is your color." He gestured towards her dress, then to her dragon, making her grin warmly.

🗡

Cregan led her to the nearest water source he could find, merely a small stream, but it would work just fine. Politely, Cregan turned away, although she wasn't taking any garments off. She snickered to herself at his chivalrous attitude, refusing to watch a lady wash her own hair. It took a lot of scrubbing and numb fingers before she was finally content, seeing no more red wash out.

"How does this look?" She asked the man behind her, who turned to inspect her. Wet hair still dripping onto her furs, she looked as lovely and youthful as ever. Her hair seemed longer, curls not yet bunching it up. "Beautiful, my Lady." He offered her a hand. Daenys hoped that her cheeks were not visibly red at the simple compliment as she was lifted by Cregan.

He smiled that secretive grin once again, walking ahead of her. "We will set a snare up first. Then, I'll teach you how to make a kill."

Daenys swallowed harshly. The last thing she wanted to do was kill another animal. She knew it was necessary, though. The Gods would not be spiteful for Daenys filling her stomach.

She followed Cregan into the denser part of the woods, carefully stepping in every place he did. After a while of her silence, he glanced behind himself with a concerned look, only to stifle a laugh at her delicate tiptoeing. He shook his head good-naturedly, grateful that she was trying.

Daenys watched him carefully set up a snare with the coil of metal wire in his pocket. They both crouched over it, leaving it in by a rabbithole before moving on to set another. This time, Cregan gently instructed her to do her own. It took a while, almost thrice the time he took, but he never got impaitient with her. Finally, she set the wire to the sticks coming out of the snow, triumphantly looking to Cregan for approval. "You're a natural born hunter, Princess." He declared, watching her smile with pride.

The two sat far from their many snares for hours, sitting against a sturdy pine. No words were needed as they kept a comfortable silence between them, Daenys finding herself struggling to stay awake with the peaceful atmosphere. Cregan glanced to her from her side, placing a hand over hers. He traced symbols, cracked joints, and tapped their fingers together rhymically to a pattern she followed by doing the same back to him. The focus kept her awake, her mind on the new task.

As the sun was near setting, Cregan led her to his snares first, picking up two rabbits and his wires. He whispered Northern words of respect for the animal before swiftly stabbing it in the heart. They inspected Daenys' next, finding one rabbit struggling in it. She hesitated to step forward, only urged on by Cregan. "Here," he handed her his dagger, a fine piece of steel that had a direwolf's head placed on the pommel. She kneeled next to the rabbit, thanking it quietly for its sacrifice. She took a deep breath it, releasing it as she stabbed into the white chest. Daenys paused a moment, grimacing. Blood stained her leather gloves, another reminder of the wolf. He would haunt her forever, it seemed. She clutched the rabbit gently in her arms, holding it like she held baby Aegon and Viserys. Cregan fondly smiled at her. "You did well, Princess." They collected the wire, walking back to the campsite. After wiping the dagger off with a kerchief, she handed it back to him.

Cregan gently pushed it to her chest, shaking his head. "Keep that one on you. So I know you're safe, even if we're apart."

Daenys, awestruck, nodding slowly. This was her first gift from a person that wasn't her kin and not a new dress or piece of jewelry. "I will keep it safe." She grinned up at him, earning a hearty chuckle.

They burned one of the rabbits over the fire, sharing it amongst themselves. It seemed like Dusk had gone on his own hunt, gnawing on the leftover bones of his dinner. While Daenys and Cregan settled into his tent for bed, she felt too tired to be nervous. His comforting scent surrounded her like a blanket, his warmth radiating throughout the tent. He slept without the furs of his cloak, a wonder that Daenys was curious about. Did he run so hot that the chill of night didn't bother him, only needing one fur blanket?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Daenys snuggled into the furs he had given her for her own tent, almost grumbling at their lack of distinct scent. The two fell asleep side by side, the purrs of Morningstar soothing them to sleep.

Daor havor - not food

a wolf does not care for blood

Kostagon aōha iemny sagon forever lēda sir - may your stomach be forever full now

beheadings have become a trend in westeros, i see. i just remembered robb's direwolf and how he was grey.

did you catch that double meaning lol

also rip grey wolf, you would have loved being housed and fed in Winterfell by Cregan

I'm thinking that Morningstar is the child of Silverwing and Vermithor since they're a mated pair. We don't know if they produce asexually or not, so idk. Definitely Silverwing's baby though, since she's the only white dragon alive, but when I imagine Morningstar I see a white smaller version of Vermithor, I adore his horn and face design.

Who knows, the dragons seemed to be random colors. Arrax is white and Vermax is green, even though Syrax is yellow and theres no male whites or greens

[reiderwriter]

hi!!! omg i’ve been following you for a bit now and i saw that it’s not only your 1k celebration(AHHHHHH OMG CONGRATS GIRL!!!) but also your birthday soon!!! So happy birthday and i hope you’re having a fantabulous day!!

If it’s not too much trouble, could i request #4 on your 1k celeb list for Spencer Reid? maybe like imagine they’re undercover in a club or at a party and reader has to dance on him for some odd reason and boy is already mad in love and now he’s got a hard on while his crush dances on him for a case and reader maybe takes mercy on him and drags him to a private place tooooooo😋😋

it’s totally okay if this isn’t to your fancy so don’t feel pressured at all!! i love your writing so much and i just know anything you write, even if you don’t write this ask or if you change it up, will be amazing!!! enjoy your birthday b and take loads of a care of yourself!💕💕

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I AM SO SORRY it took me nearly four months to get to 😭 I actually loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the birthday wishes 💖

Warnings: public sex, sex in an alleyway, talks of oral (m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, coworkers to lovers, spoilers for upto season 7 of Criminal Minds.

“Cover? Right now? I'm wading through three caseloads of paperwork right now, I don't have time to go gallivanting across the country for another unit.” You stressed to your Unit Chief as she smiled sympathetically at you.

“Temporary reassignment means your desk will be cleared of work when you return, I'll personally complete it myself. That is if you decide to come back.”

“It would take one hell of an offer to get me to join another team, ma'am, and you know it.” 

Working under your boss Andi Swann at the Domestic Trafficking Task Force was something you took a lot of pride in. The work you did saved hundreds of women across the country, and you found justice for the ones you were too late for. It had been your second choice after you'd left the academy and a particularly ambitious one, all things considered. 

“Y/N, the Behavioural Analysis Unit needs you. Now, I remember your resume as well as you do, most likely, so don't try to convince me all of the profiling credits and courses you took at the academy were solely to be used for trafficking work.” 

You flushed as the woman caught you off guard. It was true that you hoped to someday be able to transfer to the aforementioned unit, but you truly still respected the woman in front of you. 

Deciding that your respect trumped your human need to placate her worries about you suddenly skipping out on her, you simply cleared your throat and spoke as calmly as possible. 

“What is it exactly that the BAU needs me for?” 

The older woman smiled back at you and shook her head slightly before opening her mouth again. 

“It seems that one of their team members needs a date.” 

–X– 

Having recovered from the shock of your reassignment and its details, you'd found yourself packing a few things from your desk, grabbing your go-bag, climbing into the elevator and arriving at the doors of the BAU.

You then struggled for a few minutes to open with all the things crowding your hands. 

“Here let me,” a voice said from behind you, as you suddenly saw an arm come up around your side to push the door open. You followed your gaze up the arm until your back was against the door, moving backwards even as he pushed it open as your throat went dry.

The man in front of you was hot. It was as if some deity had plucked your ideal type out of your mind, moulded him with clay, and kiln fired him before placing him right back in front of you as temptation.

You were sure that minutes had passed since he'd spoken with you just staring up at him like this, but alas, you really couldn't help yourself. 

“Oh! Thank you,” you smiled, hoping it would diffuse the sudden awkward atmosphere that your staring had bought on. “I'm sorry, can you tell me where Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner's office is?” You mumbled out, trying to clear your throat silently as you lost yourself in the strangers' gaze. 

His eyes were locked on yours, and as he broke eye contact, your heart jumped as you noticed his ears were stained red, embarrassment apparently not lost on him. 

“Up the stairs, first office, his name is on the door. You must be SSA Y/N.” Shocked to hear your name drop from his mouth  you felt a Rusholme mortification as you studied the man once again. 

Slightly messy hair, pile of books in his hand, dressed like he'd fallen into a closet at a retirement home, tall wiry frame. 

Ashley Seaver's description of Doctor Spencer Reid had been spot on. Apart from the part where she had failed to mention, he was quite possibly the most attractive man on earth. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked, voice a squeak, almost scared that you were wrong despite there being no suggestion that you might be.

“How did you…?” His eyes widened with a smile as he looked back to you again, searching for answers with his head cocked slightly to the side.

“I work in Domestic Trafficking. Agent Seaver and my unit chief both gave me brief descriptions of your team so I wouldn't get bogged down with introductions when I got here.” You explained quickly for fear that he'd think you slightly stalkerish for knowing his name, even though he obviously knew yours as well.

He smiled slightly awkwardly again  and gestured further inside the office, sending you off to your temporary new Unit Chief's office with a small whisper.

“I look forward to working with you.”

--X–

The debrief with Aaron Hotchner was swift  and you appreciated the man's ability to cut straight to the point. 

There was a killer targeting women in New York City, just like there were killers targeting women everywhere. But this one had taken specific issue with women who were social climbers, who attended events with high profile and successful men on their arms. 

So far, the NYPD could link 7 homicides to the killer and were under pressure to catch the guy before Lucky Number eight. 

The FBI had stepped in and suggested you be Lucky Number eight.

They'd been sent the case as a consult and provided the profile, to which the NYPD had asked for full cooperation. 

Which is how you found yourself on a jet heading to New York City two hours after Andi Swann had called you into her office. Productive day.

“What does your budget look like after a year of private jet travel?” You wondered out loud as you followed Hotchner onto the plane. SSA David had followed you onto the plane as well, having tried to introduce himself earlier. You'd allowed him the moment of humility before telling him you knew exactly who he was, and he'd be surprised if anyone in the entire bureau didn't. 

“Well they haven't put me on display yet, so I don't think I'm quite a fossil. Pleasure to be working with you.” 

His words were kind enough, but they were a reminder of the other man you'd met earlier. 

The man who had since climbed into the seat next to you, ready for the on the go case briefing.

“We've established identities for the two of you, ready for you to go in tonight to establish yourselves as bait,” Hotch explained, handing you each a personnel folder. 

“Spencer, you'll be Charles Buchanan, local businessman with alleged ties to several socialite families in the Upper East Side.” That seemed to earn a few chuckles from Agent Morgan from his perch at the other end of the plane desk, but he cleverly kept his mouth shut. 

“Y/N, you'll be Daisy Smith, you're a student putting herself through a graduate degree, who has turned to sugaring to cover course fees.” 

“Sugaring?” Rossi asked from Hotch's side, waiting for someone to clarify. 

“It's a term used to describe the act of being a sugar baby or sugar daddy. A usually non-sexual consensual relationship involving cash or other materialistic gifts.” Spencer filled in the gaps easily, without looking up from the file he was scanning ridiculously fast.

Okay, speed-reading and super intelligence check, and you were two for two on descriptions of Spencer Reid. Swann's description had also left a lot to be desired. 

“We've got Garcia establishing some online profiles for the both of you currently using the images you sent us earlier. Hopefully, we were correct in our estimation of his hunting grounds, but he'll need to stalk you for a night or two before he strikes.” 

You cleared your throat carefully as you finally decided to ask the question that had been bugging you the entire time.

“I'm sorry if this is forward, but is there a reason I was chosen for this assignment? I don't have much undercover experience, and I was told there were two women on your team. Was I misinformed?” 

“That's correct. Unfortunately, last week, Agent Prentiss decided to take a job with Interpol in London. Agent Jareau was also recently married, so she put in leave to enjoy her honeymoon. None of the candidates we have lined up fit our Unsub's type. You do.”

“As good as I would look in a dress, you're going to be much more effective at catching this guy,” Morgan joked from the side, just as Hotch accepted a video call through to the jet. 

“Morgan in a dress, sounds like one of my dreams come true.” 

“Calm it, baby girl, what have you got for us?”

“Invitations to a charity ball being held in Manhattan tonight, and around 1000 hits across five sugaring platforms for Miss Y/N. If the FBI turns out to be a letdown, you have a lot of serious offers here, sweetie.” You laughed out loud at how she blasted through and diffused all the tension in your team, without even thinking to introduce herself first. 

“You must be Penelope Garcia. It's nice to meet you.” 

“Not as nice as it is to meet you, I promise.” 

The remainder of the jet ride had been quiet if not restful, the presence of Spencer Reid a disturbingly pretty thorn in your side. 

You'd sneaked glances at him multiple times, not an easy feat on a jet filled with profilers. His fingers had grazed yours as he passed you his file earlier as well, letting you read up on his new character. 

What you found most distracting, though, was the now bare stretch of skin peaking out from his shirt collar. 

He'd decided to take a nap at some point earlier, and now you silently cursed him for it as you looked at the splash of skin distractedly. 

You could press your lips there and work your way up to his lips. Or you could go in the opposite direction and have more fun, you reminded yourself. 

It seemed that image had you waking up, jerking upright so that you would not let that go any further.

This was your job. You were a professional, an FBI agent. 

You weren't allowed to imagine giving this man a blow job on government time. You'd have to save that thought for after the case was closed, and you could go your separate ways, you thought.

Landing was easy  and you moved straight into dress fittings and practising your story for the party later that night. 

Which meant a blissful few hours without the distraction of Spencer Reid. 

Luckily for you, the first dress they'd given you to wear had turned out to be a good fit, showcasing some of your more prominent assets. 

It hugged your body tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable, showing off a generous amount of cleavage and leg as well. It wasn't quite scandalous, but you knew it was definitely the kind of outfit that would stick out like a sore thumb at a socialite dinner. 

Which meant it was perfect for baiting the unsub.

By 7pm, you'd been outfitted, prepped, and deposited in the back of a limousine with Spencer Reid, and you were right back at square one trying not to climb him then and there. 

His outfit choice had been slightly harder, apparently, given his taller frame, but the three piece suit they'd given him was do perfect it was hard to tell it wasn't tailored to his measurements. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, whispering the words in your ear as he stroked your hand. Although the limousine driver was an undercover NYPD detective, you'd both been told to get into character as quickly as possible. 

There were a series of other undercover agents being placed throughout the party tonight - Hotch was going in as a representative of the District Attorney's office, a few NYPD detectives were serving guests drinks and food, and Rossi had managed to get an invite as himself. 

Morgan was left running surveillance in the van outside. 

Because of your outfit and the nature of the unsubs attacks, there had been no point in trying to put a wire on you at this point in time. It'd take him a week of surveillance to pick you up anyway. Tonight would just be the start of his hunt. 

So you let Spencer stroke your hand, fingers locked in his as you gave him a smile, and tried not to imagine them wrapped around his cock. 

“Just a little. I think it's the dress  shows off a bit more than I'm used to.” He took a second to glance down your body, as if he'd been waiting for your permission until now, and you watched his eyes pause over your chest and at where the hem sat at the top of your thighs, dangerously close to bearing everything.

“You look… beautiful. I think our unsub will like it, at least.” 

You tried to hide your disappointment as he pulled his hand away, ready to open the door as the car pulled up to your destination. 

You surveyed the room as you walked in, trying to memorise every particularly leering smile from men as you made your way to your seat. 

After half an hour, though, it seemed like catching your guy was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Or a creep in a room full of creeps. 

It seemed like every man who talked to Spencer only glanced at you to stare down your dress, a few even attempting to pat your back and let their hands drift south.

If it weren't for the sake of the job, you'd have sucker punched some of the richest men in New York City by now. And you'd have enjoyed it. 

Politely detaching himself from conversation, Spencer guided you away to the dance floor for a second. You'd planned it this way for when you needed some time privately to discuss potential suspects. 

A few other couples glided around the floor as you stood chest to chest with Spencer, surprised how confidently he was handling the caseload. 

His hands took their places, one on your hip, the other gripping your own as you both began to sway side to side. 

“Any ideas?” He whispered in your ear as you moved delicately. 

“Your 10 o’clock. Younger son of the Johnson family. He’s been sat glaring at me for 10 minutes despite his mother's attempts to network for him.” 

“It fits the profile, absent father, overbearing mother. He has obvious disdain for you. Is there anyone else?” His words were hot against your skin as you looked up at him, finding your lips surprisingly close as your bodies continued swaying together. 

“Half of the men in this room have undressed me with their eyes, the other half actually tried to put their hands on me when they were talking to you.” He stiffened at that, breaking eye contact as his eyes flashed with sudden emotion. 

His hand slid from your waist further down to stroke your ass slightly as he watched the crowd to see anyone taking offence at his sudden bold display of affection. 

At least that was what you assumed he was doing  as you too began to glance around, watching for anyone watching you, confident that Hotch, Rossi, and the others would do the same. 

When his hand on your ass pulled you closer into him, though, you weren't so sure. 

“Spencer, what are you-” You started in confusion, noticing that his gaze had returned to you. More specifically, that it had returned to your chest, as he stared down at how your breasts looked, pushed up against his chest as they were. 

He encouraged your other hand to wrap around his shoulder, freeing his other hand to land on your ass again as he pulled you closer still. 

You'd almost stopped moving, certain that having his body pressed against yours in every place hardly counted as dancing. You opened your mouth to say as much when you felt something twitch against your thigh. A low groan slipped from Spencer's lips as he adjusted your positions slightly as you felt something hard shift against your leg. 

“Do you seriously have a boner right now?” You whispered, as much in exasperation as in excitement. 

Spencer Reid was grinding his boner into you in front of a room full of people, and you felt like you'd just won the lottery. 

“I'm sorry, natural reaction. You look so hot tonight, and then your hands were all over me.” He rambled slightly in his explanations, mortification clear on his face as he tried to apologise. 

“It's okay.” You whispered in his ear, pulling yourself up on your toes softly to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

If you just so happened to rub up against him going up and down, eliciting another deep groan for the man, then so be it. 

“Y/N…” He whispered you name like a prayer and it almost convinced you that there was no one else in the room. 

“Spencer, there's no way our unsub is going to approach us if you have that thing tenting your pants.” You kept your voice low as your hands trailed down his chest. Pushing one further, you gently rubbed over his clothed member as if accentuating your point. 

“We need to solve this problem, don't you think?” 

His jaw clenched as he contemplated your words, trying not to let any other sounds out. His nod was barely perceptible, but within seconds you were glancing around the room for a quick exit, and in another minute, you'd slipped through a service entrance  and out through some corridors into a dimly lit alleyway. 

As soon as you were cloaked in darkness, Spencer was on you. 

Whirling you around, he backed you into the wall until your back was pressed into it, and his lips were on yours. 

You moaned helplessly into the kiss, hands finding his chest again and moving south even as he began exploring your body. 

“This is an important case, and we're about to blow it because I can't keep my hands off you,” he whispered between kisses, lips trailing down your neck. 

“Do you know how crazy we both must be?” 

“I know exactly how crazy for you I am, Reid. Now, please let me suck your dick.” You moaned the words as his fingers found their way into your panties, stroking your clit. 

“Y/N, I'm trying to talk sense into us here.” He groaned as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons, hand sliding into the material to wrap around his cock.

“How much sense are you talking with your fingers inside me?” You panted, willing him to just fully let go and let you both enjoy yourselves. 

“While we're out here, Hotch and Rossi are inside, noting down anyone who takes particular offence to our exit. We can enjoy ourselves and catch a better lead.” You started slowly pumping him then, as he pushed closer into you, allowing you to reach more of him at this different angle.

His head dropped to your shoulder as he breathed out a laugh. 

“Right, this will help.” He tried to convince yourself, and you grinned in victory, rocking your hips against his hand to find your release sooner. 

Until he withdrew his hand and used it to grasp your own, halting your movements. 

“Spencer?” You pouted slightly, but he pressed another kiss to your lips  this time forceful and demanding, to guess begging permission to enter and dominate you. 

You gladly accepted him into your mouth, even as you felt him pushing up your skirt, letting the material ride higher as it had been trying to do all night. 

Making sure you were steady against the brick wall, he pulled your hips up and around his, pushing your panties to the side as he pushed inside of you. 

The stretch was maddening. Everywhere he touched became hot against the cool night breeze as he began his frenzied strokes into you. 

You lost all capability for speech, which was probably for the best, as you were sure you'd only ask for him to do more disgusting things to you eventually. 

His mouth slid to the top of your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, waiting to claim a nipple in his mouth when one eventually came free of the offending material. 

“Such a little slut, begging to suck my dick. Maybe next time, princess.” You screamed and arched your back as he finally bit down around your nipple, soothing the skin with his tongue as he licked and suckled there. 

His other hand fell to your clit again, pushing you to the edge as you finally came on his cock. 

He didn't stop though, powering through as you tightened around him, moaning wantonly as his thrusts hit deeper still.

“Let's see what our unsub thinks when he sees my cum dripping out of you,” he whispered again, as he too let himself go, releasing spurt after spurt of cum inside of you. 

Making sure you were strong enough, he set you back down on the ground, keeping an arm wrapped around you protectively as you smoothed your clothes back into place. 

You helped him button his pants as he smoothed your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before ducking in for one more sweet kiss. 

“I'm sorry that I couldn't let you, uh, perform orally,” he blushed again, his ears that same shade of red you noticed earlier as he guided you back inside. “I think someone would have noticed if I'd ruined your makeup that much.”

You practically choked on your own spit as you finally slipped back into the dance hall.

“Next time,” you said, making sure to finish the conversation you'd started. “We’ll have more privacy.” 

[hgfictionwriter]

Sizing Up

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie’s new strap arrives and she tests it out on you.

Warning: Smut! Big strap, size kink, praise kink, soft dom/sub, language.

A/N: Size kink request. Did my best! Bit of a muscle fixation, Jessie manhandling reader. Reader taking a large strap.

Credit to @stargirlsfc for the gif

"Guess what just arrived?"

Jessie came around the corner holding up a box. You shot up on your knees on the couch, leaning over the arm of it as your eyes lit up. She propped the box on her hip, eyeing you and up down and spoke before you could say anything.

"I'm going to be fucking you like that before the night is out."

Your bright-eyed smile turned into a wicked smirk.

"Is that so? That's pretty bold of you to assume," you taunted.

"Pretty bold of you to tease me, too," she returned as she set down the box and strode over to you. Your smile widened as she approached.

A small yelp escaped you as she effortlessly lifted you off the couch and over her shoulder, holding you in place by your legs. She walked you both into the middle of the room and you couldn't help yourself from squeezing her ass as she did.

It was no secret that you loved her muscles and the way she could manhandle you whenever she felt like it. You knew she'd never hurt you, and being at her whim and mercy did things to you.

When she gently set you down on your feet and straightened back up to see your face, she was met with an excited grin. You quickly leaned in, cupping her cheeks with your hands and giving her a kiss. She grinned back at you.

"For you," she announced as she handed you the package. You opened it and revealed the new strap you'd purchased together. You bit your lip before looking up at her. She had her hands on her hips and she surveyed you with a smirk.

"Sure you can take all of that, baby?" She asked with a mix of wonder and teasing.

"Is that a challenge?" You asked impishly as you pulled it from the box and wrapped your hand around the base before locking eyes with her once more.

"Mm, I'll make sure you're good and ready," she said. "I know my baby can take it." She leaned down and kissed the side of your neck before pulling back. "Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

True to her word, Jessie returned a few minutes later. Except this time, when she rounded the corner she was down to her boxers, which had a very noticeable bulge. You bit your lip in anticipation once more as she walked towards you.

You immediately placed a hand on her bulge as she came up to you and you smiled through a breathy laugh.

“Excited to see me?” You teased.

“Always,” Jessie replied without missing a beat.

"You're so big," you said as you leaned in to kiss her.

She chuckled lightly and returned your kiss. "And it's only for you."

Without any further warning, she lifted you up, guiding your legs to lock around her waist, and she walked you towards the edge of the room until your back was against the wall.

You rest your head against the wall and looked down at her as she held you steady, her biceps popping in her tank top. You squeezed them appreciatively.

"God, you look good," you told her and she flexed them further under your grip. You let out a small moan.

You felt her dig her fingers into the bottoms of your thighs, spreading your legs further momentarily as she rolled her hips up against your center, the strap pressing against you for a moment. A clipped moan escaped you at the fleeting touch.

"Mm, I can't wait to see the way you take me," she said as she kneaded your thighs and began kissing your collarbone. "The way you'll stretch out around me."

Another moan formed in your chest as you tilted your head back and tried to pull her closer.

"You're going to fill me so good," you told her. She rolled her hips up into you again.

"I know, baby. And you take me so well."

You ground yourself down into her, the strap rubbing you through the fabric and you could feel your arousal starting to pool already.

"Wish I could fuck you like this whenever I wanted. Just slip inside you whenever I like."

You moaned as you kissed her deeply, wrapping your arms around her strong shoulders. You rocked your hips against the strap. "Mm, I'd love that. And I'd let you take me whenever you like."

"God, you're too good," she muttered as continued to press herself into you, providing you with friction and temporary relief, but making you desperate for more.

She set you down, a small whimper escaping you at the loss of contact, but began to undo your jeans. She reached her hand past the band of your panties and towards your radiating heat. She grinned as her fingers were met with your slick juices and a needy moan worked its way up your throat.

"Mm, so wet for me already,” she said, blatantly pleased.

You kissed her deeply as you moved with her fingers. “How could I not be?”

“Well let’s give you what you need,” Jessie said as she took a step back and gave you a nod. You gave a coy smile, knowing what she wanted.

You hooked your fingers over the band of your jeans and rocked your hips gently from side to side as you slowly and sensually shimmied them down your legs. You gave a self-satisfied smile at the way she watched you hungrily.

“Where do you want me?” You asked, a lilt in your voice.

“Over here, beautiful,” she said as she reached out a hand, taking yours and guiding you back to your earlier position on the couch. You leaned over the arm of the couch, pushing your ass out teasingly as you looked over your shoulder at her.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” she said as she ran a hand appreciatively up your thigh before gripping your ass. “And look at this,” she tut as she ran two thick fingers along your slit through the fabric of your panties. “Soaked right through.”

“Ruined just for you,” you said. A gleam in her eye caught your attention.

“Ruined?” She asked with a slight cock of her head. She brought up her other hand to your panties and suddenly you saw her forearms flex and the sound of fabric ripping filled the room.

Your jaw fell as she ran her fingers through your folds, now unobstructed by the fabric. A thrill went through you and you let out a laugh both bewildered and excited. She caught your eye and gave you a smirk.

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” you assured her with a smile, subconsciously pushing your hips back towards her.

“So eager,” she commented as she pulled her strap through the slit in her boxers, running her hand up and down the length of it as she knelt one knee on the couch cushion. She gripped your hips, lifting you up and shifting you over a bit to better line herself up behind you.

“Mm, you are beyond beautiful,” she said in awe as she looked you over. The glistening of your wetness in the light caused her own arousal to pool further.

She gripped the strap and shifted her hips forward so the tip was positioned at your entrance. She smirked at the small moan you let out at the initial contact.

Her eyes were trained squarely on you as she carefully pushed forward. She bit her lip as you slowly start to spread, your entrance gripping the tip of her strap tightly. She took her time as she entered you, subtly pulling in and out to lube up appropriately and give you time to adjust.

“God, you’re incredible,” Jessie breathed as she watched in amazement as the “O” of your lips gradually grew larger as you swallowed more and more of her strap. “I can’t believe you can take all of this.”

“Mm, you fill me so good,” you affirmed, giving a slight roll of your hips. A crack echoed through the room as she slapped your ass, pulling a short moan from you.

Jessie let out a soft grunt as she finally sunk into you to the base. “You look so good with me stretching you out like this, baby girl.”

She gave a low moan as she saw you flex around her. She gripped your ass cheeks hard, flesh pushing up between her fingers and leaving faint prints as she released you.

She slowly pulled out so it was just the tip. You let out a mewling moan as she sunk back in.

“Such a good girl,” she praised as she ran a hand along the small of your back and drawing another needy whine from you.

“You’re so deep.”

“Just where I want to be,” Jessie said as she gripped your hips. She stayed in place for a couple of seconds longer before pulling out to the tip once more and this time thrusting to the hilt with greater force. She paused to caress you. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “I will. ‘Til then,” you rolled your hips back into her, “do what you want with me.”

Immediately, Jessie pulled out and slammed her hips back into you, drawing a heady whimper out of you. She then started pumping into you, adjusting her grip on your hips and pulling you back to meet her thrusts. The room was filled with the sound of her hips colliding into you as she began to rail you.

“You are dripping wet, baby,” Jessie said, voice shuddering as she thrust rapidly into you. She let out a huff of a laugh at how your mouth was slightly agape, head thrown back and unable to speak. “You’re taking this big cock so well, my girl.”

All you could do was reciprocate with a high moan.

Before you knew it, Jessie pushed you forward, pressing you into the arm of the couch as she hunched over you and started fucking you harder.

You braced your hands on the floor as she had you draped and folded over this couch as she rammed into you. Waves of pleasure radiated throughout your body with each stroke. Alternating sensations rushed through you, hollow wanting every time she pulled out, then quickly replaced with immense satisfaction as she filled you deeply to the brim.

A desperate whimper came from you as suddenly the warmth and weight of Jessie’s body on your back was gone, and she pulled out of you completely with a pop.

You snapped your head behind to look and saw her stand up off the couch momentarily, cheeks red and forehead beaded with sweat. Your eyes were drawn to her strap that glistened with your cum, a ring of it evident at the base of it, too.

She reached down wordlessly, grabbing you by the waist to pull you up. She sat down on the couch, legs splayed and her boxers pulled tight around her muscular thighs. She saw the way you eyed her and she flexed her thighs as she readjusted, giving you a wink.

She jerked the strap up and down, spreading your arousal over it further.

“I want you to ride me,” she told you and you straddled her requiring no further instruction, bracing yourself on her firm shoulders. She held the strap in place as you began to slowly lower yourself onto it.

You smiled at how her eyes glazed over as she watched the strap disappear inside of you. Your head fell back and your throat opened with a low moan as it filled you. She kneaded your thighs as you rest for a moment, getting used to the feeling again.

When you were ready, you lifted yourself up, eyes closing at the sensation going through you. Soon, you began rising and lowering yourself steadily on the strap.

“God, yes,” she breathed as her gaze shifted between the strap and your face. Her words fuelled you and you quickened your pace. Her jaw was slack and she breathed and watched you in reverie. “You look so good riding me like this.”

You held onto her shoulders as you moved, rolling your hips as you lowered yourself, grinding into her lap and soaking her boxers with your arousal.

You continued for a while but soon your thighs began to burn from the effort. Your legs shook at one point and she moved her hands from your waist and under you instead. She held you in her hands, fingers splaying across your ass cheeks and began lifting you up and down, letting you guide the pace.

Your eyes fell to her biceps, mesmerized by the way her muscles popped each time she lifted you.

“You like watching me, baby? Like the way I bounce you up and down on my cock?”

A whimper fell from your mouth. People would be shocked to know she spoke like this in bed, but that’s part of what drove you wild. She grinned at you as she bounced you up and down further, her now doing almost all the work as your legs gave out.

At one point, she lifted you and held you there as she simply started jackhammering into you. A long, wailing moan came from you as she used you and soon your moan became a cry as you began to spasm around her.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed as she continued to thrust into you and carry you through your orgasm.

When the waves of pleasure began to dissipate, you collapsed against her, her strap still filling and stretching you out. Her arms were quick to wrap around you and hold you to her. She peppered lingering kisses along your temple and rubbed your back as your chest heaved up and down.

She whispered to you as you recovered, but when you finally went to move your legs shook and gave out once more. She chuckled and kissed your cheek before lifting you off of her and gently setting you down next to her. You winced.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she offered with a wince. You gave a slow shake of your head, still exhausted. You took a breath, having to be focused and intentional as you spoke.

“Don’t be.” You swallowed, your mouth dry. “I love when you fuck me that good.”

She leaned in and kissed you sweetly, cupping your chin and caressing it with her thumb. “I’ll run you a bath.”

[humanpurposes]

Can I Be Yours? - Nightblooms II

Aemond returns to the pleasure house after the battle of Rook's Rest // Main Masterlist

Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, angst, sex work, unresolved childhood trauma, implied underage and non-con (not explicitly depicted), mentions of war, violence and death, ambiguous ending

Words: 3k

Each day she arrives at the market shortly after sunrise. She has the coin to pay for the usual cheap cuts of meat, for fats and vegetables to make into something edible, but there is nothing to buy; most of the vendors have sold the last of their wares. Summer is at an end, there are less crops coming from the Reach and the sea is still cut off with no end in sight to the blockade. 

King’s Landing has never been a place where she feels at ease but as the season shifts and the war goes on, families are starving and people are getting desperate, fighting over what they can get their hands on. They’ve all been reduced to dogs, clawing at each other over scraps while carts of livestock and fresh produce trundle through the streets towards the Red Keep, guarded by men in Hightower green.

She manages to buy some crabs and vegetables she’ll have to cut the mould from. They have a store of grain in the kitchens to make flatbread, though they have to use less and less each day, anticipating when they’ll be able to find more.

She eats less of her share so the younger girls won’t have to go hungry. Besides, she hasn’t had much of an appetite for days.

She had spent hours trying to rinse herself clean of the King and his companions after they’d had their way with her– after Aemond had left her to their mercy. That night she scrubbed at her skin with salt, then a cloth, then a bristled brush. That feeling was still there, like sweat sticking to her skin, like her body was not her own. She heard their voices and their cold laughter with the rush of water past her ears. She scrubbed harder and harder until she tinted the water pink with her blood.

One morning, one of the girls returns to the pleasure house, unsuccessful in finding a cure for her babe’s fever, but startled by something else.

The Hightower army has returned from a battle, dragging the head of a dragon on a cart through the city.

“It’s monstrous,” the girl says, trying to measure the scale of the head with her arms. “It had black blood, and gods, the smell, like charred meat!”

Sylvi hovers over her shoulder. “Slain by your favourite, I wonder?”

Favourite? Clearly she was not so favoured by Prince Aemond.

Men are led by their desires. That’s why, even as the city is starving, they find the money to come here and seek their pleasure. They are fickle, easily satiated and have no loyalties but to themselves, to their own preservation.

Sylvi huffs when she does not react to her teasing. “Seven above, do try to look less miserable, girl.”

She’s been trying for days, but she can’t force a pleasant demeanour when she feels so hollow.

The returning soldiers come to the Street of Silk that night, newly paid and come to bask in their victory. Her gown is a deep shade of blue and Sylvi has given her some of her jewellery, sapphire earrings and a heavy gold necklace that feels like a collar, to cover the bruises on her neck left by the King.

She catches the eye of a soldier in the main chamber. He takes her by the waist and drags her onto his thigh.

He moves clumsily, trying to drag her core against his leg or the bulge in his breeches, she cannot tell and she does not care. 

Look less miserable, it’s only a motion of the body.

Look less miserable, men want a woman who is warm, who smiles.

Look less miserable, but has he noticed her fallen face and the empty look in her eyes? Likely not.

Her body feels numb again.

“Look at me,” the man demands.

She turns her head towards him but her eyes are down, elsewhere completely. She pictures candlelight, a veil around the edges of a bed so the bodies around her are like shadows. She feels a weight on her chest and stomach, limbs intertwined with hers, long, loose hair spilling over her bare skin. A voice is just out of reach.

Look at me, look at me, look at me–

“My Prince!”

Her senses come back to her as quickly as a match takes to flame. Her head darts to where the soldier is looking, to the man standing before them, dark leathers, silver hair, an eyepatch over his face and a sword hanging from his hip.

Aemond tilts his head, his one eye intent on her. 

“Apologies, Prince Regent,” the soldier says, and shoves her off his lap so he can stand.

She stumbles but holds her ground. Her eyes are on the floor but imagining his face frowning in displeasure, the sight of his scar, the lines of his muscles under his skin. She cannot bear to truly look upon him, but he’s watching her.

Why come now? Why her, when she has already proved worthless to him?

“Come,” Aemond says without reaching for her, without waiting for her to match his gaze. She follows, if only to escape the wanton soldier.

Aemond takes her to the same chamber, standing at the foot of the same bed where they used to lay together.

She stands before him with her eyes lowered.

He towers over her and lifts her chin to match his gaze with a gloved hand. The leather against her skin is unnatural, cold, disturbing her very being like ripples through a peaceful surface of water. The sight of him only brings her pain, as does the separation from him. Fear and admiration twist together and writhe in her gut.

He reaches to remove the necklace first, letting it fall to the floor. “An ugly thing,” he mutters, “do not wear this again, I find it distracting.” It bares her bruises. He traces his gloved fingers over the flushes of red and purple in her skin.

Next he undoes her dress, another gown designed to fall away from one clasp. She does not remove the rest to bare herself, so he tugs the gown away himself, pulling her forward by her wrists to make her step away from where it pools on the floor.

Without any further preamble he surges into her, cupping her jaw with his hands and kissing her passionately. He demands reception with his lips, tongue and teeth, but she will not give it to him. She remains as steadfast as she can.

He pauses, kissing her again, then again.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is subtle and as soft as the edge of a knife. Gently, he takes a hold of her neck. It is tender, but not quite a comfort. Her pulse beats furiously against his fingers. “You are angry with me, is that it?”

Has he thought of her these last few days? Does he blame himself for the bruises on her neck? 

She says nothing.

“I’ll not fuck an unwilling whore.”

“No,” it falls from her lips like a breath.

Aemond tuts and tilts his head. “No?”

She parts her lips but she cannot speak.

His one-eyed stare darkens. He will take her silence for defiance, and that is not what he pays for.

If all he seeks is carnal desire she will grant him this. She tears away the layers of him, his gloves, the buckles on his jerkin, her fingers fumbling in her determination.

Aemond grunts as she pushes the sleeves from his shoulders, the leather landing with a heavy thud on the floor. His face is perplexed but he does not resist.

She tugs at the strings of his undershirt and pulls it over his head. When his chest is bare she puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself in, crashing her lips into his. Everything becomes a single feeling, a fire in her chest, hurt and rage and— she’s not naive enough to call it love, but it’s an urge that spurns her to be close to him. Their teeth clash. She loses her focus and her lips graze over his cheek. She finds him again, drawing her tongue against his, dragging her teeth over his lip–

“Fuck!” Aemond hisses, snatching himself away from her. He dabs his fingertips to his lip, checking for blood that isn’t there. 

His eye is wide but gleaming, excited at the challenge. 

Her heart leaps when Aemond grasps her jaw. He drags her chin up, fingertips pressing into the bone. “I find your insolence tiresome,” he snarls.

The edge of his nose brushes against hers. She feels his breath, how his chest rises and falls against her body, how his heart beats as frantically as hers.

She shakes her head. “I am yours, my Prince.”

He lays her on the bed, pushing her thighs apart and holding them down as he kneels.

He sighs at the sight of her.

Each drag of his tongue is divine, circling and pressing at the places he has come to know will please her the most. She tries to chase the friction with her hips but he holds her firmly in place.

She reaches for his hair, slipping the eyepatch from his face so she can see all of him. He looks up at her as she does, his lips glistening with her arousal while his sapphire consumes the golden light of the candles. 

Between the movements of his mouth he mutters to himself, words she has heard before but does not know the meaning to. His voice is heavy and breathless and she adores it. 

Her peak comes suddenly, a wave of warmth and weightlessness that lingers after Aemond has drawn his mouth away from her.

He’s just out of her reach, standing over the bed and slowly pulling on the strings of his breeches. 

She brings herself to sit, only to be thrown down again and roughly turned onto her front.

“Aemond?”

His hands pull her up by her hips. His thumb glides in circles over her entrance and she stutters into compliance. There’s a ruffle of fabric before he replaces his digit with the head of his cock. He teases her as he rocks back and forth. The pleasure is sparse, a delicious kind of torture. She grips at the linens and sinks her teeth into her lip.

On one motion of his hips, Aemond slips inside of her. She sighs at the stretch of it. He stills for a moment to let her adjust, pushing himself to the hilt and slowly drawing back. She feels how his fingertips dig into her flesh, marks that will stay for days. She can picture the look in his eye, his resolve melting away.

She props herself up on her hands, turning over her shoulder. He meets her, pressing his nose against her cheek, teasing his lips over her skin.

“Do you still find me insolent?” she whispers.

Aemond hums. 

He draws back, only to snap his hips harshly into her rear. It knocks the breath from her lungs and he holds his arm around her to hold her close to him, his palm pressing into her stomach as he fucks her roughly and without reprieve.

This is the Prince she has only ever seen glimpses of. She’s heard the workings of his mind and his regrets, but she’s never seen him unleash himself, a dragonrider, a warrior, now a demanding lover.

Each kiss of his cock at her sweet spot aches and drives her towards bliss. She grasps at his hand, leaning her head into his. His sweat drips onto her brow. His moans fall upon the shell of her ear.

She feels another peak edging closer when Aemond pushes her torso down against the bed. He keeps his hands on her shoulders. Her own moans are muffled against the mattress and she cannot move. She can only take what she is given, fast fucking and brutal precision. 

He comes with a unrestrained groan, spilling himself deep within her cunt. His weight falls against her back and he nestles his face into her neck, whispering some appraisal in an ancient language, gently fucking his seed deeper.

She whines as she catches her breath, letting herself settle with him on top of her. They stay like this for a time. Before he finally moves, Aemond presses a delicate kiss to her brow.

They lay amongst linen and silk, his head on her chest, his arms wrapped around her ribs, moving with her as she breathes. 

He tells her of Rook’s Rest, of his plan to attack during the daylight and bait their enemy into sending a dragon, then he would lead Vhagar into an ambush. He had not expected Aegon to join the battle, and when the smoke cleared, only Aemond and Vhagar remained unscathed.

“Perhaps I should have been more forgiving, but he got in my way.”

What did you do? She wonders, but cannot bring herself to give a voice to her question. 

That soldier had named Aemond as Regent. Not the title he wants, but it is a brutal reminder that only one life stands between him and the throne he pursues. 

“And even when he is… incapacitated, my victory is named as his. It was meant to be mine.”

The dragon head was his doing after all. 

Tears run freely down her cheeks, not that he will see.

He takes a breath and waits. She’s done this enough times by now to know he’s waiting for her to say something. He needs her to say something.

What loyalty has your brother ever shown you? He knows you were better suited to war, at least now he will not overestimate himself.

She does not wish to think of Aegon. 

“You left me,” she utters.

Aemond tilts his head towards her. She meets his eye. When he sees the tears on her face his own expression softens.

“You left me to entertain those men. You didn’t even look back.”

Aemond swallows thickly, making a soft clicking sound with his tongue. “I had to.”

“Had to?”

“You would not understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You are a Prince. To you, I am nothing but a body to be used.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You do not need to say it. It is the nature of the world we live in.” 

He shifts himself to lay beside her, face-to-face. His thumb strokes over her cheek and at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve only ever admired you,” he says. “You came to me when I felt alone.”

Back when they were children, when she was innocent enough to think the gods favoured those who were kind, merciful, good. 

“You looked lost. I was the same the first time…” the first time Sylvi brought her into a room with a strange man. When she sees girls of the same age, she wants to take them into her arms and shield them from strangers, from the people who promise to care for them and do not. “I knew how it felt to be used and then discarded, like none of it mattered. But it did. It mattered to me.” 

Aemond’s eye shimmers like glass.

“I needed you, do you understand that? I needed your protection,” she says.

He blinks and a tear falls from his eye. 

“You taunt me with this,” she says, wiping it away with her thumb.

He holds her hand against his jaw. “I’m not trying to taunt you,” he pleads. “You are the only one, the only one I can speak my mind to.”

She has seen his pride, his remorse, his shame, but she has never seen fear in Aemond. She does now. He clasps onto her hand like she’ll fade away.

“I try. I know my place in my family. I know what they need of me. I try, but I am not always strong enough.”

Jaehaerys, the little Prince who lost his head. He has a sister and a mother grieving his loss, what of them?

What of Aegon?

“I’ll protect you,” he says, kissing the heel of her palm, the inside of her wrist.

How will he do that? Before morning he will leave a purse of gold in her hand and return to his Keep. While he plots his war and demands taxes and tithes from the people of the Crownlands, she will endure in a city that is slowly starving to death.

And when the war of dragons comes to the skies over King’s Landing? Will he pick her out from the masses atop Vhagar? Will he find a way to spare her from the fire and the bloodshed?

It does not bear thinking about. She holds him and tries to forget anything other than this feeling, his weight and warmth, his hair between her fingertips, the points in his bones, his legs intertwined with hers. Everything about him that is cold and cruel. Everything about him that is quietly beautiful.

I've kinda given up on taglists <3