#cole talk less smile more

[forestyuri]

dare i say girlfriends… sapphics… soulmates… lesbians.. CMON… please say im not the only one who saw it 😭😭😭😭😭

[dreammfyre]

the heir's favorite ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of the marriage between your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen and your father Daemon Targaryen. Always the most rebellious and difficult of all, temperamental, impulsive. However, weak before the temptation to possess your older brother, the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon, a knight par excellence, the opposite of you. But no one in Dragonstone imagined that you shared much more than dragon's blood.

WARNINGS. +18 Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest (brother and sister). Jacaerys aggressive and dominant. Smut. Based on the second season of House Of the Dragon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. This was a suggestion left anonymously in the messages, so I invite you to leave yours. Thanks for reading.

The empty room was so quiet that you could feel your thoughts could be heard all over the place. The full moon illuminated the dark sky, standing out against the stars that night where everyone was resting in their chambers, but you were unable to lie in your bed, much less fall asleep without having nightmares. The Stone Table was where everyone met daily to discuss strategies for the war that was being unleashed in Westeros, but now that empty place was strange, so much silence and loneliness. The extinguished embers did not illuminate the tabletop, you touched the stone expecting to burn, however, it was totally cold.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice entered the place. You turned immediately finding Prince Jacaerys, your older brother and heir to your mother's throne. "Sister... it's very late."

"I know, you should be resting." You replied walking towards him.

"It's a bit complex lately." He took the luxury of joking, in response you smiled without much encouragement. "May I know what you're doing here?"

"Not much. Seems to me you're not the only one who doesn't get any rest." You lifted your shoulders casually. "Any news on your rounds?"

Jacaerys shook his head in disappointment, pacing around the table resting his hands on the handle of his sword without taking his eyes off you, analyzing your presence carefully, as if silently judging you. You rested your hands on the stone of the table relaxing your body on your arms, but your head couldn't stop scheming hundreds of thoughts and bloody imaginary scenarios regarding the war.

"Cole's army is getting bigger and bigger and we don't have a damn clue about anything." You said with a tense jaw. "And about my father..." you sighed deeply without looking your brother in the face "no word from him for days."

"That's not your fault." Jace tried to make you feel better with repeated kind words, but your guilt was growing and the anguish of the approaching war wouldn't leave you alone. "Daemon is not the priority."

"That idiot should be here, on the island, with his queen and his children." You whispered angrily. Then you looked up resolute in your decision. "I'll go see him tomorrow."

That didn't sit well with your brother.

"Don't talk nonsense, Visenya." The heir scoffed. "You can't go to Harrenhal alone, it's too dangerous and we don't know if the way is clear."

"You think I'll arrive by land alongside Daemon's imaginary army?" you sneered in the same condescending manner, a brazen gesture that made Jacaerys' blood boil. "I will ride Vermithor's back at dawn and arrive before the sun peaks. I will return the same day with news before the queen."

"That's a lousy idea!" Your brother exclaimed angrily. Grabbing your arm with brute force, forcing you to look him. "How can you even think of traveling alone to lands we don't know if they are enemies or allies?"

"We need to move fast before they come for us, Jacaerys." You squirmed under his grip feeling his fingers bury into your pale skin. "Do you intend to wait for my father to return?" you managed to break free from his grip with difficulty, Jacaerys ran a hand through his wavy hair desperate not to talk sense into you. "Because you may take a seat, I will not be accompanying you."

"Visenya, please understand the magnitude of your stupidity." He begged, chasing you from side to side. Your brother knew how impulsive you were, and how hard it was for you to get an idea out of your head, no matter if it was good or bad and in this case it was a rather dangerous one. "What happens if you cross paths with Vhagar in the skies?" The prince raised his voice to you demanding and imperative trying to intimidate you, anyone passing nearby could overhear your discussion. You turned your back to him, you didn't want to look him in the face out of embarrassment because deep down you knew his words were true. "You have no business there!"

"I have no business here either!" you exclaimed with the same intensity. You were temperamental by nature and now you were blowing off steam. "I'm tired of staying cooped up on the island, waiting for others to figure things out! I'm a dragon rider, and I'm constrained by these walls."

Your brother understood that feeling better than anyone, he grabbed you by both cheeks, covering your face with his firm hands.

"I know how you feel, Visenya. Believe me, but walking out at the first impulse is not the solution, don't you understand?" You put your hands over his, looking at him intently. You wanted to nod to answer him the question he asked you, but you were mesmerized in his nearness and his breath hitting your face. "Stay here, with us." He watched you carefully without letting go, losing himself in the sense of his pleas to look at you closely, you were so beautiful in any light no matter how dim, a Targaryen through and through with bright, intense violet eyes of long white hair like your parents. Jacaerys couldn't help but stare at you, the half-open lips tempting him to taste you, trying not to lose what little composure he had left. "With me."

You possessed the ethereal beauty of your mother and the complex character of your father, Daemon Targaryen. Under your little ethics and impulsiveness you did not think if it was a coherent idea and you threw yourself to kiss the thick lips of your brother who reciprocated instantly, none of them reasoned, they only moved to the rhythm of the kiss where their moist lips brushed anxiously. Your brother's hand on your waist took you by surprise, more so when he pressed you against his body bumping you against his chest and cornering you against the table.

"Go to sleep." Jace scolded you making an attempt to stop kissing you, but you kept reaching for him. "This isn't a good place."

With a smile you ignored knowing the only way to stop the situation was for you to go to your quarters and you didn't feel like leaving. You grabbed her hair tangling your fingers in her chestnut curls, Jacaerys strength intimidated you, but it wasn't enough to stop you.

"Don't go to Harrenhal." He pleaded leaving kisses on your neck, tracing a wet path over your skin taking advantage of inhaling your scent. "Do it and I promise I will warm your bed every night."

You felt a shiver run down your back at his offering, Jacaerys kept leaving kisses until he reached your collarbones uncovered by the neckline of your dress. His warm lips made your heart beat faster, you grabbed him by the face stopping him.

"Would you do that for me?" you asked with dangerous innocence, watching his glossy swollen lips.

"Do you really doubt it?" he answered against your ear, then brushed his nose against yours slowly, you left a short kiss on his lips almost by instinct, so tender and unexpected that you heard a laugh come out of the prince.

"I'll think about it." You whispered touching his chest, playing with the textures of the fabrics, his agitated breathing gave him away, having you close was a personal challenge for the prince. It was a lie, you weren't going to think about it, you just wanted to give him what he needed to hear to stay with you.

Jacaerys' big hands began to take hold of your body squeezing you tightly making you gasp, then you lifted your chin giving him access to your neck, the kisses there unsettled you in a special way and only your brother knew it, taking advantage of your weakness, listening closely to his breathing and feeling the warmth of his breath was much better. Everything about him you liked, and you were missing him lately. The pressure and uncertainty of the war had taken your head elsewhere, you had abandoned each other for valid reasons, but at that second you just wanted to give yourself to him one more time.

You stood on your tiptoes to gain a little more height reaching for his ear, your brother tensed at the delicate touch of your hot tongue against his lobe, you licked delicately knowing that it turned him on, he confessed it to you one night and you never forgot it. A deep moan of satisfaction came from his throat, then carefully, you lowered one of your hands straight down to his pants, positioning yourself over his hard member that was pressing against the fabric.

"This is not the best place." Begged the prince resting his forehead on your shoulder. "We are in a sacred place, you know?"

You cared little for his insistence or decency when you only wanted to shout his name, though you knew Jacaerys was asking you to stop for the sake of not failing in duty, not because the desire wasn't there. No one understood the reason why Rhaenyra did not cancel the stupid engagement between Lady Baela and the right Jacaerys, no one could deny that they could become blameless kings for the history of Westeros, but there would never be the tension and burning desire throbbing as when the fire was unleashed between you. That first time with a taste of sin, you begging him not to stop, that it was going to become a one-time secret that his parents would never find out, a secret they couldn't help but repeat between your sheets and his, in the hallways and in the library.

Desperate, your brother lifted the skirt of your dress with your help by grabbing your leg and pulling it up to his waist. The mere contact made you moan from the pleasure, you clamped your mouth shut to keep from making noise, you were too sensitive and needy and Jacaerys liked to have you under his control. You were always sarcastic, upset and nasty, just like your dragon, but Jacaerys Velaryon knew how to control you.

"What are you going to do if someone finds out about us?" You asked with bated breath. Deep down it was important to keep the secret guarded to keep it. Jacaerys' fingers stroking between your legs making you jump, clinging to the heir's neck and leaning against the table. "What are they going to say when they find out the crown prince fucking his sister."

His fingers slowly moved up and down, playing with your slimy wetness between his fingers. The mischievous grin on the chestnut's face only reflected the satisfaction of having managed to have you like this, so submissive to him.

"Does it scare you?" he whispered against your moaning lips. With his other hand he gripped the back of your neck tightly, so you wouldn't move. "They're going to find out you're my spoiled sister." Two of his long fingers began to search for the perfect place to insert themselves into you. You stirred under his grip settling in for him, your desperate breathing needing him to finish his work, but he seemed very calm provoking you with his words. "Do you know what they'll call you?" he bit your lip, pulling it towards him. "The heir's whore." His fingers slipped inside you so easily, sliding into your wet insides gushing moans from your chest as you felt him move in and out of you. Jacaerys took your leg his free hand clutching his fingers to your thigh preventing you from closing before him.

At the first loud moan you covered your mouth immediately knowing you were attracting attention, the sensation between your legs was stronger. You squeezed your brother's shoulder getting used to the movement of his fingers inside you.

"Don't yell." He ordered uncompromisingly. He had to kiss you to shut you up, which served you a few short minutes. You were losing your mind, your legs wanted to close but Jace put his foot down to stop that from happening.

"Jacaerys." His name on your lips excited him more than anything else, for it was the tone of desperation that mirrored your desire. To know that he controlled you and you were under his dominion with how arrogant you were, that no knight owned you, that everyone desired you for being Rhaenyra's spoiled daughter, but you were his, no matter an arranged marriage or duty was enough. "Mmh." You ran your hand over your face, desperate to keep silent fighting against your body that was beginning to tremble as his fingers went faster.

But for an ego like Prince Jacaerys Velaryon's it wasn't enough. Listening to you enjoy yourself on the Stone Table where every day they met to discuss war strategies was the most satisfying image to his eyes and he was not going to be able to forget it. The way you moved, dragon-like, the sweetest and most desperate noises came from you, none of the whores he had been with compared to the delicacy of a pureblood Targaryen. A unique and unrepeatable privilege.

When your breathing became erratic and the murmurs incomprehensible swearing you were going to reach that peak, Jacaerys came to a screeching halt chastising you. You opened your eyes in disappointment and fury, your heart leaping out of your chest and your legs damp and trembling.

"Be a good sister," he stroked your cheek with the gentleness you deserve to be treated with. You were trying to listen to him but you were so upset you just wanted to insult him for doing that to you. "Turn around."

Your hair stood up at his tone of voice demanding and conciliatory at the same time. As obedient as ever, just for him, you turned your back to him as the prince busied himself with pulling down his pants that were pressing against the erection he was trying to contain. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, you could still feel his long fingers inside you and the wait, however minimal, was becoming eternal and torturous. You looked sideways at the entrances of the place without finding anyone, but the truth is that you didn't care if at that moment the queen arrived and found them like that, the euphoria and adrenaline was taking over your body and your reason, the overflowing desire had taken your actions. You felt Jace's hands sneaking up your skirt, careful where to touch, looking for just the right position to enter. He stood behind you, your dress pulled up over your back, the mere touch made you moan. You were so wet it was slipping from your entrance.

"Don't say anything." He told you and you nodded, you were capable of begging if necessary, though deep down you knew he enjoyed it making you obey. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You closed your eyes as you felt Jacaerys slowly push behind you. You took a breath and tried to relax, you both moaned slowly, the prince tensed his jaw and clenched his teeth to keep from making noise, he stayed still for a few seconds searching for your hips digging his fingers into your skin trapping you in that position, moving you back and forth to better thrust. The rubbing of his member on your walls felt warm and wet, an invasion of your body, you were so used to his size that the sensation became familiar, literally. Some of the pieces of stone you unintentionally threw away, that was going to be a problem for later, because now the noise of their bodies colliding was beginning to consume you. The control he had over you didn't bother you, he gripped you tightly taking over everything. Her hips moved with yours instinctively in a delicious back and forth.

"Like this." You gasped with closed eyes and a satisfied expression. You reached for his hand under your dress and clung to him as tightly as Jace clung to you.

His length pumped in and out of you at a rapid pace, but this time, Jacaerys made sure each thrust was deep by ramming his pelvis into your buttocks.

"What a pleasure to meet again, don't you think?" his question was punctuated by your same panting without stopping moving. You weren't able to answer, your high-pitched moans were getting louder and louder, putting both of you at risk. On the other hand, he was breathing heavily. You had to cover your mouth with your hand, biting your palm to stifle your own moans of pleasure at having him inside you.

You started to stir but you were trapped in his hands, he knew you well enough to know what to do, you turned to look at him finding the heir ramming you with force and speed, his hair fell in curls that moved to the rhythm of his rhythm, when their gazes met for a second he stared at you, your face sweating, your eyes bright with a frown of supplication and red cheeks were enough to have no mercy. Your entrance was tightening at the same time you couldn't breathe, that feeling of a wave invading your insides begging for more desperate to reach orgasm. Jacaerys took your with one hand your waist and with the other your hip, encasing his fingers preventing you from escaping, you were in this together and you had to finish it.

You moved your arm and disarranged the pieces on the board. Now you could hear your brother moaning, cursing you for being his undoing and the greatest of his sins, making you his own feeling the power to mark you and deflower you breaking any tradition that governs the Targaryen nobility. It felt so good that you could confess your love to him just so he wouldn't stop. Luckily for both of you, he didn't stop, the rapid movements and the pressure forming in your lower stomach was getting out of control, the noise intensifying from the collision of your bodies and your knees seemed to lose any kind of strength to hold you up, luckily the table was there to support your body, plus your brother who wasn't going to let you fall. Until you couldn't manage to resist anymore, your orgasm came first like a shiver throughout your body, you closed your eyes tightly and watching you exclaim his name in screams of pleasure ended the infinite torture of the heir that took a few seconds to wait.

"Shit." Your voice hopefully came out of your dry mouth. You had your chest against the weight crushing your breasts, one of your hands intertwined with your brother's who was rebounding behind you.

You both took a second to take a breath and assimilate what you had just done, you had promised not to fall into carnal sin again and that's why the last time was several months ago. You leaned on the table with both hands coming back into yourself with your chest heaving, your brother's hands were still in the same place but he was no longer squeezing you with the same possessive intensity. Your hair was falling on both sides, tousled from the movement and your legs were begging you for a rest.

Jacaerys caught his breath, but his heart had not calmed down at all. His body was still experiencing those chills and that unique tension, he took a step backwards out of your body to get dressed. You immediately felt the fluid trickle down the inside of your thighs, dripping slowly down your hot skin.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked pulling up his pants, his movements a little uncontrolled as the adrenaline was still pumping. You nodded fixing your wrinkled dress. It wasn't the first time it had happened, you both knew what it was, that meant you would have to have tea the next morning.

"Looks like I'll be staying."

Your older brother smiled, fixed his hair pulling it back and moving closer to kiss you again, this time slower and softer, trapping your lips with his so slowly that you relaxed. You took his face kissing him again, his scent, his warmth, his bearing that forced you to lift your chin to reach your mouth, the softness of his lips, it was the most comforting sensation you knew.

"Go rest." He whispered without opening his eyes. Tidying your hair behind your ear.

"Okay." You replied in the same tone, so obedient and submissive before him, kissing for the last time his mouth following your movement. "Good night"

Leaving him was complicated, but you were satisfied with the encounter. As you walked you felt the burning between your legs, a reminder that was to last a couple of days that he had made you his once more, that was the greatest secret they kept hidden, they had forgotten for a moment the war between families, the political problems, duty and order.

Jacaerys Velaryon watched you go, silently picking up the sword he had dropped to the ground. That simple symbol that he was capable of abandoning his duty as prince for you, he staked his honor and his word for taking you. He stayed a while longer tidying up the mess they had created, arranging the pieces of stone in the place that corresponded according to the figure, picking up from the floor some that fell without realizing it. It was he who always assumed the role of responsibility for cleaning up the mess and pretending nothing had happened. How was he going to show up tomorrow at this very spot knowing he had relations with Visenya, the spoiled and arrogant princess, right there?

He only hoped Daemon Targaryen would never discover that his daughter was the heir's favorite if he wished to one day ascend the throne.

[humanpurposes]

De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself. 

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather. 

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin. 

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway. 

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter. 

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her. 

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt. 

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle. 

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips. 

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly. 

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?” 

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach. 

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking. 

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin. 

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth. 

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless. 

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained. 

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

[divinesolas]

For the night

summary: on the hunt for houses to declare for aegon the greens stumble upon house vance and its new lady of the house, gwayne seems particularly taken with her.

gwayne hightower x vance!reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: cole is an asshole, assault on reader (not gwayne), fluff, p in v, oral (fem), fingering (fem), not proofread

a.n: not my usual content but gwayne hightower you have charmed me

he was so sick of being out on the road. the mud, the dirt, the grass, the blood, everything he was sick of it all. and of course he was stuck traveling around with criston cole and the stick that seemed to be so far wedged up his ass it should be coming right out of his mouth.

it was another day of watching men bend the knees in his armor that made his skin feeling sticky with sweat and dirt and blood on his face, his hair a mess he is going to kill someone if he has to live another day like this. yet today something in particular catches his eye, the women who typically stood off to the side while the men bend the knee never normally interest him, but a particular women catch his attention instantly. staring off to the side without a care in the world as the early fall breeze hit your face.

a woman like her is far too beautiful to be standing out in this rutty old field next to these old crinkly men she deserved to be living in paintings or in a statue carved from the purest stone. He could not take his eyes off you, you must have been able to feel his eyes on you as you crane your head and lock eyes with him. your expression does not change but you do drop your head and cup your hands together in front of you when his gaze does not stray. a smile tugs at his lips he cannot fight for the first time in days.

once it is all said and done he gets stuck in a conversation with some random knight that he is less than happy to be talking to he finally manages to worm his way out of the conversation and looks around the field for you. his face twitches slighty when he sees you talking with criston cole and hastily rushes over.

Your conversation becomes clearer and clearer the closer he gets. “as i have told you before ser cole i am unmarried.” “i find that hard to believe you are the daughter of lord vance.” you merely shrug at him, “i do not know what you wish me to say, prior to your arrival i had been the youngest of six, i had four other sister ahead of me who married.my father saw no reason to marry me off. he had a son who married a nice lady and now they have all slit their throats in the castle halls, i never expected to be in charge or be married.” He had seen the incident first hand, when criston burst open the doors of the castle he did not expect to step in a pool of blood and fresh corpses laying on the ground of the majority of house vance excluding you and your father who was just beheaded for not bending the knee.

when you notice gwanye walk over your eyes trail to him for a moment which causes cole to look at gwayne before you turn away from him. “now is certainly not the time to be flirting with ladies cole” cole sighs and he turns to gwayne with his arms crossed, “as everyone else in her line is dead and she has no other living relatives she is the new lady of the house. i thought women of your, respectable age, would atleast have a suitor or two” gwayne rolls his eyes, he cannot believe cole and his disrespectfulness, if his suspensions were correct he had no clue what his sister saw in him. does he not realize he is speaking to one of the more gorgeous women in the realm?

“and i thought you white cloaks were swore to purity. it seems we are both wrong.” he watches a switch flip in coles eyes and before he can say anything cole has you by the neck and you attempt to take some gasps of air. “cole! release her!” many eyes had turned in their direction as you beat your hand on his forearm but no one dared move. gwanye finds himself pulling out his sword but doesn’t point it at cole just yet but his hand is itching to strike him down.

“you have no clue what you speak of.” cristons spits at you with venom but continue attempting to takes gasps of air. “criston that is enough!” your face contorts in confusion as you continue to try and pull yourself from his grip. “i meant was some of your men were seen in a brothel a town over last night.” Criston keeps you in his hands for awhile longer before he lets you go and takes a step back. you grasp at your neck as you take many deep breaths, gwayne puts his sword back and grabs his water skin and hands it to you. He watches as you eagerly drink the sack dry before turning to criston, “do you have no decency? strangling an innocent woman?”

cole says nothing but gwayne can tell he’s embarassed about the display and all the eyes on him. criston steps towards you and you step back into gwaynes chest to which he happily keeps you against him as cole speaks hushedly. “you will tell me the names of these men.” you look around at the white cloaks and point to a group of four of them standing around and chatting pretending like you cant feel gwaynes fingers rubbing circles around your hips. “how would i know you are telling the truth?” “my brother was a frequent customer of that particular brothel, i had gone to go pick him up and i walked in to see them, sharing a particular women in the center of the room with their cocks about but still wearing their armor.”

as much as he hates to admit it cole finds himself believing you, “we will discuss this after i am done speaking with them. then we must head out.” gwayne would rather die than go back on the road now especially with you in his hands. “cole, can we not take one night to rest? look at the men and tell me they are not exhausted? think of the morale cole.” he does not care about the teams morale but criston doesn’t need to know that, yet when he looks around it is rather obvious the team is suffering. mens feet dragging about the ground and faces devoid of life. criston turns to gwayne who simply raises his eyebrows at him, criston turns to you, “your lands shall host our men for tonight. but just tonight we leave first daylight.” gwayne grins at cristons pointed addition and feels you nod your head. “we have a couple beds though not many-” “we have tents to sleep outside.” “i will be more than happy to take a bed if he will not my lady.”

criston walks off leaving the two of you standing together when you remove yourself from him and turn to face him. “i am not a whore ser hightower.” he flinches slightly in surprise and manages to shake himself out of shock with a laugh. “i never thought you were my lady.” “your eyes and hands certainly say different ser.” He had been a little forward had he? so he bow his head to you.

“apologies my lady, let me try this again. I am gwayne hightower, pleasure to meet you.” he grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand. you hum and pull your hand away from him much to his annoyance. “likewise i suppose though i wish it was under better circumstances.” he watches as your eyes drift to the large pile of bodies that had built up, hes sure your family lies within the pile, “i would like to give you my condolences.” you snort and shake your head. “im sure you would.” he wishes he could get a read on you but you keep your walls kept up tight.

he wants to rip them down and expose you to him fully. hes never been so taken with a woman and especially with such quickness, maybe it was a fleeting lust but he was so fascinated by you he cant help but want to keep talking with you, watch your every move. yet you do not give him the chance as you begin to step away from him, “one of my men will show you and your men to your room. Good day ser hightower.”

you turn your back to him and begin to walk away. he almost wants to follow after you, to chase you down and continue to talk to you but the way you turn your head back at him to give him one final look is enough to have him knowing itll be worth the chase a smirk is unable to leave his face as he steps away and turns is back to go find cole who happens to be screaming at the men you pointed at. He’ll look for you later he’s sure of it and he’s more than sure he’ll find you.

the sun had been long set and the night cold when he sees you again. its not hard to find your room, which had been moved to the main chambers only hours after your fathers death. he finally feels refreshed after a long bath and finally out of his armor or camp clothes, being given some soft nigh clothes by the maids. he should just want to lay in bed and sleep, maybe even travel with some of the other men to the brothel nearby but he doesn’t much to the surprise of his men. He instead finds himself walking through the empty halls of the castle until he stands in front of the doors of what appears to be your chambers

He knocks before he even can think about his actions and the door cracks open after a few moments of silence. Your head pops out and your eyes narrow at him, “do you need something?” “merely wish for some company, someone to chat with.” your brow raises and he can tell you do not believe a word he says. “just to chat?” a small laugh escapes him and he smiles, “well if you are offering more who i am to deny?” you roll your eyes and the door cranes open some more but you don’t let him in, standing in the doorway you lean against the wall. “my maidenhead remains in tact ser.” he throbs, you were a minx put on this plane for testing his strength. “don’t make the offer more tempting my lady, i am a merely a gentleman.”

he takes the opportunity to get a full look at you, changed out of your day clothes and dawned in a silk nightgown in a light green, the straps are thin leaving your shoulders and collarbones bare as well as your sleeves but what it lacks up top it is long enough to hit almost your feet. Your arms crossed under your chest where almost salivates at the sight. He can see your nipples poking through the almost sheer fabric of your dress. You are so much better than any sight at any brothel and more beautiful than any eligible lady in all the seven kingdoms.

“you done looking at me yet?” his eyes shoot back up to you while he grins, “never my lady.” he watches you face flash and you stand up straight. “as fun as this back and forth is ser hightower unless you are looking to marry me i must ask you to leave.” you bow your head and go to clothes your door but his foot in the way stops you. “ser,” “what if i was interested in marrying you?” you push the door open and stare at him blankly. “do not jest ser hightower.” “gwayne please and no i do not jest.” he has never been interested in marrying much, his sister had married the fucking king and had plenty children his father cared not for if he was married or not. Gwayne enjoyed the life he lived, traveling from brothel to brothel without a care in the world but you had been the first eligible lady hes ever met that even remotely interested him.

it would not be so bad to marry, this war has shown him that everything peaceful lasted forever and maybe it would be good to settle down somewhere, with someone. he watches you watch him thoughtfully, your eyes unreadable as you watch him for any signs of deceit and lies. When he makes no moves you take a couple steps back, the doorway to your room now wide open for him to step into. “If you step past the doorway you will have to marry me ser gwayne, are you really willing to give everything up for one lay?”

you stare at him with a challenge in your eyes. you think he’ll walk away and you’ll never see him again, he’ll be nothing more than a fleeting memory of a handsome man that wanted your attention for a day and you’ll settle for whatever carefully chosen lord the greens pick for you to keep you in line and you’ll live the rest of your life plainly.

The door shuts with a quiet thud and you turn around to take a sip out of your wine glass as silence fills the room you stand in.

a hand suddenly plays with one of the thin straps of your dress and pushes it down your shoulder, the right side of your dress falls down exposing the right side of your chest as his lips dance around your shoulder and neck. you lean your head back against his chest as his hands knead at your sides. He begins sucking at the part where your neck and shoulder meet while your left strap falls exposing your chest fully but his stands stop it from fully hitting the floor.

He suddenly spins your around as you take another sip from your wine, and he shoves his lips against yours, drinking the wine from your lips and some dribbles out of your mouth. when he removes his lips they trail down and lick up all the wine that had slipped out, his hands leave your waist and your dress hits the floor softly leaving you bare in front of him.

his head spins as he stares at you you sit on the table with your legs parted. “live up to your standards?” he shakes his head as he drops to his knees, “your beauty surpasses that of the maiden herself.” He rubs his hands on your thighs as you let out a shaky breath staring at his ginger hair. he presses light kisses on your inner thighs growing closer to where your dripping for him.

he licks softly at your folds first before his tongue pushes past them and greedily lapping at your core. his hands grab at your hips to pull you closer to him as you rut your hips again his face. When he groans against your core shedding shivers up your spine your throw your head back is your hand tugs at his hair softly.

you bite your lips to silence yourself in the hopes no one hears you but when he pulls away and bites your thigh you can’t but let out a whine. “let me hear you.” you shake your head as he pushes two fingers inside of you, “what if someone hears?” “let them hear us i dont care.”

Your grip on his hair grows tighter as you feel his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers begin to push in and out of you at a steady pace. you hunch over as you grow closer and closer, he revels in the way you’ve stopped holding yourself back and lets your sounds flood his ears. he can tell you’re close with the way your grip on his hair tightens even more and the way your thighs clench so snuggly around his head.

“gwayne.” he pulls away just enough to speak to you, “its okay let go.” he licks up every drop you spend out while his fingers help guide you through your peak. he stands back up and smiles at you with his bruised glossy lips. “do you want me to do the same?” he licks his lips and shakes his head, “not today beautiful as tempting as that is.” he presses his lips against yours as his hands work as his trousers to free himself. your hands join his and make quick works to free himself from his clothes leaving him bare. he picks you up and you giggle as he smiles against your lips and drops you onto the bed.

you grip his shoulders tightly as he begins to thrust into you. mumbling words of encouragement in your ear you hiss as he enters you more and more until he’s fully inside of you. he tries his best to restrain himself knowing you need time to adjust, he feels the way your walls clench around him and the way your eyes shut tightly he cant help but groan at the sensation of it all. fuck whores and fuck brothels he thought, nothing would truly get better than this. and when he starts to thrust and the way you sing to him is better than any wine.

he helps your legs wrap around him as his thrust grow more and more aggressive, as he watches your tits bounce he cant help but lean down and wrap his mouth around your nipple as he cries out. one of his had been on your thigh moves to rub your clit and only when you release around him does he allow himself to spend his seed inside you.

when you fall asleep on his chest as he traces shape in your skin a playful smile falls on his lips as he thinks about how furious cole will be, the man had been planning to marry you off to some old man who would agree to anything they said and now cole is going to be stuck dealing with him. yet he doesn’t care because as long as he can have you it doesn’t matter.

[kamisama1kiss]

Okay okay, hear me out…what if the reader was a ninja part of the team but they would also be involved in a prophecy where they end up dying to save their lover, I need the ninja reaction to when Master Wu tells them 🫶🏻

This is actually so sad, tho.... I love it! 🤭😝 I was a little stuck on writing, but I hope I was able to deliver what you wished for 😚🫶

~~~

What would be the ninjas reactions be as the prophecies says they're lover will die for them?

~Lloyd Garmadon~

- Denial is a river in Egypt. Refusing to believe that they would die for the sake of his life.

- No matter how many times he convinces himself, he knows truly he can't do anything to stop it. Further pushing him into no limits of getting stronger to maybe, just maybe prevent it?

- Keeping a watching eye at you at all times to see if you're safe, more so in battles or training.

- Would try to convince you to do other tasks rather than join the team if he knew it could be risky for either you or himself.

- Consently tries to spend as much time with you so that when the time comes, he could make sure to not regret a moment.

- Would often spend time silently watching you just live and socialise with others, his heart falling into his stomach.

- Admiring you and everything about you as a person.

~Kai Smith~

- At first, he just laughed and shook his head. There was no way.

- After maybe a few hours or days, the gravity of it all dawned on him. He couldn't help but feeling so hopeless and useless to not be able to help or postpone it or anything for that matter.

- His mind of having a feature together with you was immediately crushed, all the plans of being able to hold you at night and talk into the long hours of the night.

- In the meantime, he changed a little for you as in allowing you to goof around with his hair as an example.

- Holding hands no matter where you walked to feel you close just to know you weren't gone. Not yet at least.

-Knowing he was absolutely broken after when Nya was gone, he would be just the same with just worse of completely letting guilt eat him up in silence. He would refuse to let anyone know how he felt.

As the hothead, he is the practice dummys would be all burnt to crisp

~Cole Brookstone~

- Again?

- Really? First, his own mother. Now, the one person he loves with the whole being of himself

- No matter how much he tried to collect himself, he could easily take it out on training.

- Would at some point start to distance himself from you so when the time came, the impact would be less painful.

- Didn't want to be like his father with absolutely neglecting everything when you we're gone, but anyhow, he tried to smile to everyone and act chill like he usually would.

- Often held his breath when holding you close, wishing for these types of moments to never end.

~Zane Julian~

- He was obvious to the fact that the one he loves could so easily die, but he could live on for many years on.

- Has already been over this with himself, but hearing it being sooner than expected shocked him.

- Acting no different than normally maybe a few occasional more hugs throughout the day, nothing too out of the ordinary.

- When he was alone, his way of grief was meditate. Maybe it could make the damage a little easier for his wires to handle?

- Occasionally turning off the emotions to just feel as if he could "breath" as it did get to his head at times more than he'd like to admit it ever did.

~Jay Walker~

- Immediately lost himself as he shook his head, refusing to belive what a dumb scroll had to say! It's dumb right?

- Spending every waking minute of his day with you by his side, alongside helping you with everything he could think of.

- Coping with occasionally stealing shirts with your smell on them to feel as if you mext to him, even though you are just a few doors down or so

- Would slowly communicate with others as he became more silent, which scared everyone. Everyone stood on their toes around him to not further upset him.

- He came in clutch and used every single excuse possible to man kind to have you for himself the first week or two after getting to know. He felt kind of pushy so he calmed down a little.

~Nya Smith~

- She genuinely just accepted it, what more could she say? The prophecy says so, she cannot deny it no matter how much this frustrated her.

- Checking up on you and acting for the most sake normal, as to not make you uncomfortable or worried for her sake.

- Used any or all frustration on training her powers in different ways, which was beneficial for her in the long right?

- Just like her brother, there was no communication from her side. Whenever the topic of prophecy popped up, she went silent and stood next to you, holding pinkys.

- Would cry to herself whenever everything got to her, just knowing you're gonna to eventually leave it snapped her multiple times. She would always refuse.

~~~

I've reached over 25 posts :00 and also over 50 followers!!! THANK YOU, EVERYONE 😭🙏🙏 I appreciate every single one of you so much

[puck-luck]

this was born out of a text exchange between me and cappy where i rewatched the "coming home" youtube video and quinn had the audacity to bend over the edge of the table like a SLUT. my message about that moment was "I HATE him for putting his leg up on the edge like this (and you know what? Bea would fuck him on the pool table fs)". Cappy replied: "also - circling back to the fucking on the pool table. yes i do think that should be included in bea’s book. love that both girls fuck their men on the pool table". then I discussed how Bea is going to ask how it was for Honey because position-wise, she wasn't super comfy "And then honey’s going to be like “bruh” and then bea will be like “aw that’s so cute of us, we fucked our guys in the same place 😊 we’re basically semen sisters” and honey is going to be so affronted". So that's what inspired this. I started having visions when I was supposed to work on my grad school essay, so I needed to write it down to get it out of my mind.

HERE! is the beaquinn pool table sex. if you want to know what's happening with honeytrev at the same time as this, you can reread days 30-33 in Chapter 5 of stg. LOVE YOU! say it back. ENJOY!

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Bea almost doesn’t want to leave Quinn’s bed when she hears the front door creak open, signaling the brothers’s return from Las Vegas. It’s warm in here and the pillow smells like Quinn. Her t-shirt will have to do. It’s Quinn’s old yellow Michigan t-shirt, which falls big on her but not big enough to cover her behind. The hardwood floor is cold as she makes her way out of bed and throws the sheets back into place, tiptoeing down the hall and the stairs without making the floor creak too much. Bea undoes the messy braid on the back of her head, knowing how Quinn likes it when her hair is loose for him to play with. She shakes out her hair as she creeps down the stairs, the whispers of the brothers getting louder with each step.

“Jack, the door–” Luke hisses just before the front door bangs shut.

Bea stifles a giggle by pressing her fingers over her lips, still hiding in the shadows of the staircase. 

The boys stand in almost identical poses, shoulders tense and heads ducked. They’re waiting for one of their housemates to wake up and get mad at them for making so much noise. They’re lucky– Cole’s been dead to the world since about 10:30 and Trevor went to bed around 11 after he talked with Honey. Bea doesn’t know exactly what happened, since Honey is still so unsure about this Trevor thing, with good reason, but she knows that Honey had to remind him to think before he speaks. Bea is so glad she doesn’t have that problem– Quinn loves to think before he speaks. The other boys are less thoughtful, but she’s never had to chew them out for saying something stupid.

“Close one, eh?” Jack whispers, although he’s bad at whispering, so his voice just seems softer than normal.

Bea steps out of the shadows, staying close to the wall like it’ll camouflage her bright yellow shirt. 

“Bea,” Quinn breathes out, noticing her immediately. He sets his suitcase down next to him, a smile growing on his face when he recognizes her outfit.

“You’re late,” Bea whispers, matching his grin. “You said 1:30.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, but he doesn’t seem all that sorry.

“There was a crash on 77,” Luke adds. “Pretty bad. Probably better that it happened in the middle of the night, since there weren’t as many cars on the road.”

Bea hums. “That’s sad.”

“Have you been up this whole time?” Jack asks. “It’s late.”

Bea shakes her head. “Slept a little bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack grins. “Whose bed?”

Stupid. Bea snorts, taking a few more steps until she’s in front of him. She lifts her hand and squishes his cheeks between her fingers. “Not yours,” she says. “G’night, Jacky.”

He makes a kissing noise at her, then steps back and bumps into the table in the hall. “Oops,” he mumbles. “Night, Bea.”

Luke echoes a goodnight and pats Bea on the back, holding both his and Quinn’s suitcases in his hands. The brothers squeeze past her, leaving Quinn and Bea in the dark alone.

She grins at him, bouncing a little bit on her tiptoes out of excitement. She’s missed him. Quinn smiles back, his eyes glinting in the darkness. He’s the first to step forward, sweeping her up into his arms in a tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, letting his arms push her shirt up so that he can touch the smooth expanse of her back. Bea wraps her arms over his shoulders and plays with his hair, breathing him in. He smells a little bit like airport, but the scent of his sandalwood shampoo is stronger than ever. 

“You shower this morning?” Bea asks, pinching the close-cut strands on the back of his head between her fingers. 

“God, I knew you were going to comment on that,” Quinn groans, pulling away from her. His hands rest on Bea’s waist, pinkies brushing the band of her cheeky underwear. “I was on a plane for like five hours, babe.”

Bea’s stomach twists at the pet name, her cheeks turning a little red and her mouth widening somehow further. She admires Quinn for a moment, eyes cataloging how his face looks sharper with his stubble only just growing back. Her eyes pass over the scar on his cheek. Honey only just noticed it the other night. It’s one of Bea’s favorite things about his face– tied for first with, well, everything else. 

She realizes that she’s gone too long without replying, mostly because the edges of Quinn’s lips are tilting upward in an amused way.

“Hey, winner,” Bea greets, tilting her head to kiss him hello. “Missed you.”

Quinn breathes out a tiny laugh, kissing her again like a reply. “I missed you, too. Was thinking about you the whole time.”

Bea faux-gasps. “You were thinking about me, but you didn’t even thank me in your speech?”

Quinn chuckles, a little louder this time. His thumb runs along her hip, petting the skin there. It makes Bea’s sides feel warm, like the friction is sending shocks through her body. “Oh, come on. How would that have sounded?”

“‘And thank you to Bea McLean, the best person I’ve ever met’...?” Bea teases, blinking at Quinn. “Obviously. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Quinn shakes his head, still smiling fondly. He rolls his eyes a little bit, but he concedes. “I’ll work it in next time.”

“I’m expecting it. First back-to-back Norris winner since Nicklas Lindstrom, yeah?”

“Lidstrom, baby,” Quinn corrects. He pulls Bea close again, hugging her for the second time. His hands rub up and down her back again and Bea swears that she can feel his fingerprints as he moves. “You tired?”

“I slept a little. Are you tired?”

“Had a coffee at the airport ‘cause I’m stupid,” Quinn replies. His voice turns sarcastic, overly dramatic and trying to get her sympathy. “And the boys were draining me, they’re so annoying.”

Bea pats his chest. “You love them,” she reminds him.

Quinn’s easy to break. “Yeah,” he agrees. “They’re pretty great.” He pauses, eyes flickering over her face akin to how she surveyed him earlier. “Wanna go watch a movie?”

“Movie will put me to sleep. We can play a round of pool, if you want. Keep your winning streak going,” Bea teases. 

“You just want to bend over in front of me,” Quinn bites back, laughing. His hands go to her behind, covering Bea’s cheeks with his palms. “Distract me with your panties.”

“It would be more distracting if I wasn’t wearing them,” Bea points out, wiggling back into Quinn’s touch. 

“I think you’re already distracting enough in my Michigan shirt,” Quinn says. “C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You can fill me in on the past couple days while you lose.”

He’s got that playful tone in his voice again, the one that Bea loves. It’s so domestic, the way that she and Quinn talk to each other. They’ve got a vibe about them, something that fits like a puzzle piece, but Bea is getting too far ahead of herself. It’s not even July. They’re just having fun, by her own design. So what if he calls her ‘baby’ and it makes her stomach flip-flop every time?

They’re still trying to be quiet as they head down to the basement, making sure to close the door behind them. Quinn racks the balls and Bea chooses her usual stick– she only knows which one it is because it’s got a chip about ⅓ of the way down the shaft– and starts to tell him what he missed. 

“Honey tried to ban Trevor from the store because he’s bad at being a person,” Bea starts. “I don’t know the drama, but apparently he doesn’t think.”

“Have they fucked yet?” Quinn asks, rounding the table and stationing himself to break the rack. Bea never breaks when they play. She’s not very good at hitting one ball, much less strategically breaking up a group of fifteen. “Or are they still stuck on him fingering her in the back room?”

“They’re still stuck. She likes him so much, though, she just won’t admit it,” Bea continues. She looks at the table. Quinn made one of the stripes in off of his break– 14 maybe– so he’s trying to pick his second ball now.

“She’ll get there. It’s kind of like a tree falling, isn’t it,” Quinn says. He lines up the 11-ball with the pocket and knocks it in, then purposefully bumps off the wall in a meaningless shot so that Bea has a chance. “Takes a while, but once she’s down, she’s down.”

Hmm. “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Bea tells him. “That’s smart, Q. You’re right.” She eyes the 5-ball, since it’s kind of in the way of all of the ones she wants to get to. Might as well move it. Bea crosses the table and shoots it off to the other side of the table. A problem for later.

“You can’t try to lose on purpose,” Quinn chides.

“I’m not trying to lose on purpose, I just wanted to get that one out of the way,” Bea argues back. 

Quinn rolls his eyes and sighs. “You should’ve shot at the 7.”

Bea side eyes him. “Don’t tell me what I should’ve done. Mansplainer.”

Quinn shrugs. “Just trying to help.” He focuses on his next shot. “What’d you do after we left?”

“Worked. I dragged Honey here to watch the Awards, we played Uno– I won, by the way, and I’ll school you next time we play–” Quinn interrupts her with a laugh, narrowly missing a pocket when the ball bounces off the corner edge. “I called you after you won, and then we broke out the hot tub earlier today.”

That catches Quinn’s interest. “Oh, yeah?” He asks. “You took a dip? Did Cole try anything stupid?”

Bea hears the insinuation immediately. “No, Cole and I didn’t hook up while you were gone,” she says with a tinge of fake exasperation in her voice. “I told you over the phone on Thursday, I only have sex with men who have won the James Norris trophy.”

Quinn laughs aloud, throwing his head back. “How long is that going to last?” He teases. “Just so I can know when I’m back to graciously sharing you with the other boys.”

Bea groans. When they’re alone, Quinn always flaunts how he was the first and how he’s her favorite. He gets a kick out of acting like he’s special and Bea pretends to hate it. He is special, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I can still go up to Jack’s bed now, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Bea leans over to shoot at one of her solids. It bounces off a wall and changes directions. “That’s all that happened this weekend, really. Tell me about Vegas. Lose any money?”

“Tons,” Quinn confirms, but the cheeky grin on his face tells her that he’s stretching the truth. He starts to talk about how he and his brothers snuck Luke into the casino with a well-placed bribe to the doorman and autographs for his kids. The stories from the weekend pile up as Quinn and Bea mill around the table, taking shots and sinking them in Quinn’s case, missing them in Bea’s. He tells her about the people he saw, the things he did, the interviews he had, that he got an offer to be on the cover of NHL 25 but he’s going to hold out until they let him bring Jack and Luke with him, and that he’s happy he got to see his mom and dad. He officially tells Bea that they’re coming for Fourth of July, although that surprise had already been spoiled by Trevor on Thursday. 

Quinn wins– of course. Bea wasn’t going to win this game unless he intentionally threw it, like her first time playing him. They’re past the intentional throws now. Bea goes to update the board– honor code is highly valued in this house– and Quinn pockets the rest of the balls so that everything is nice and clean for tomorrow. There’s no sense in leaving them out. She can hear Quinn sneaking up behind her.

“You look good in my shirt, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing Bea’s shoulder. “I gotta get you in Michigan gear more often.”

“You know, if they ever play Carolina again, you’ll have to pry my UNC gear from my cold, dead body,” Bea says, reaching a hand around and threading her fingers through Quinn’s hair again.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I pried the clothes off this body,” Quinn says, self-satisfied smirk evident in his voice. He turns Bea in his grip so that she’s facing him. He kisses her, more than a greeting peck this time. “You tired yet?”

Once again, Bea can see right through his question. “Not a chance. I’ve been waiting for my winner to get home.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Quinn praises, voice low. He captures Bea’s lips again, moving against her in the comfortable way that they’ve adopted in the weeks since they’ve been seeing each other. 

Bea lets Quinn lead this time, his hands guiding her closer. He’s got a palm under her shirt, resting on the small of her back, and the other cradles her face gently, like something precious. Bea knows that it’s a casual thing, but she likes to lose herself in moments like this. Quinn is just so… all-consuming. He’s like a really loud and unexpected clap of thunder, one that rumbles on for longer than you expect. His touch makes Bea jump, sometimes.

Her hands explore him a bit, like she doesn’t get to touch him all the time. The difference is that Bea finds something new every time and she never tires of getting her hands on Quinn. She knows that he tends to be insecure when it comes to his build, which comes from years of being an awkward teen with a nose that seemed too big for his face and acne that riddled his forehead, but Bea can’t imagine Quinn as anything other than perfect.

He’d be slightly more perfect if he had a bedroom to himself. 

“I feel bad kicking Luke out,” Bea whispers to Quinn when they break for air. “You guys got in so late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn replies. He brings his hands to the backs of Bea’s thighs and lifts her up, guiding her legs around his waist. “We don’t need a bed.”

Bea makes a face. “We stay fuckin’ in the bed, Q.” Lord knows she’s not against having sex in an odd place– the back of Griffin’s patrol car, for one– but she and Quinn haven’t really branched out yet. “I didn’t know you were so adventurous.”

“What can I say,” Quinn teases. “You bring something out in me. Let’s try something new.” He nips at her bottom lip, then drags his tongue against the area he bit. “It’ll be fun.”

Bea giggles. He gets so flirty and touchy, sometimes. “What are you thinking, Crazy?” She teases him right back with the nickname, bringing her index finger to the curve of his nose. It really is the perfect size and shape– so appealing. 

She’s distracted by a memory, from the second time they hooked up. Quinn had told her that he didn’t get to do everything he wanted the first time, and when she asked what he meant, he’d licked his first two fingers and slid the wet digits against the fabric of her underwear. She’d gotten much more wet when he made his way between her legs with his mouth, kissing and licking over her folds and entrance as the fabric molded to her anatomy. It was only then that he’d removed the panties and gotten his mouth on her properly– the vision often comes to her when she’s trying to sleep at home, alone. His nose had been so nice then, bumping against her clit as he’d ravished her.

Bea’s stomach grows a little warmer at the reminder. 

“I want you right here,” Quinn says, breaking her from the spell. He sits Bea down on the edge of the pool table, the cool wood of the edges pressing against her thighs while the felt of the table scrapes against the hem of her shirt. He stands between her legs and places a hand behind her head, kissing her and leaning forward so that she’ll lay back. Once Bea is laying down, flat underneath Quinn, he pushes her shirt up and takes it off. 

The felt of the table feels weird under her bare skin, but it’s not bad. The bite of the ridge of the table is worse against her thighs, but Bea doesn’t speak up about it because Quinn’s removing his shirt.

The moonlight from outside makes him seem paler than he is, but it creates a beautiful series of shadows across his body that emphasize his muscles. His arms seem like they’re bulging more, his chest has more definition, and his jawline– oh, his jawline. Bea didn’t realize just how much his long hair hid that from her.

“I like your haircut,” Bea says, not realizing how silly and belated it sounds when she’s almost entirely naked on the pool table below him. 

Quinn chuckles, smiling at her. One side of his lips lifts higher than the other, which is how she knows that he’s blushing, even when the moonlight hides it. “Thanks, baby,” he says softly, leaning down again to find her lips. His cock, still trapped by his pants, fits perfectly against the place where she wants him most. 

She grinds up against him, drawing a low moan from the back of Quinn’s throat. He placates her with kiss after kiss down her neck and between her tits, as far down as he can go while he keeps his pelvis in line with her own. He’s fiddling with his zipper with one hand, kneading Bea’s right breast with his left hand. The skin of his fingertips is a little dry, but his thumb catches her nipple just right and Bea keens, her vision getting a little darker.

“Missed me that much, hm?” Quinn teases in his low voice. “Two days I’m gone, baby, and you’re this needy? What am I going to do with you when I’m gone for a week, or two?”

Bea reaches to his hair and brings his lips to hers, to silence him. She’s beyond talking and beyond teasing. She wants him inside, like, yesterday. 

“Relax, I’m coming,” Quinn assures Bea, mumbling his words against her lips. He finally takes his hand from her breast to shove his pants and underwear down, stepping out of them so he can move better. He drags his tip through her folds, her wetness gathering along his skin. “Did you mean it?” He asks. “What you said on the phone?”

Bea pauses, wracking her brain. She said a lot of things on the phone to Quinn. She meant them all. She’s about to say yes, just so he can get on with it, but then she spots the way he’s biting his lower lip and his eyes have turned hungry. They’re trained on the place where he’s nudging his tip against her clit, slit bubbling out precum and dripping on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“What part?” Bea asks, captivated by the look on Quinn’s face. 

His eyes rise to hers and he looks positively intoxicated by whatever he’s thinking. Bea’s skin crawls a little, but not in a bad way. In an excited way– whatever Quinn’s referring to, he wants badly. Bea wants to see him give into that.

“That you’d reward me for winning,” he prompts, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips, which have parted in recognition. “By letting me fuck you bare.” His jaw clenches a bit once he says it, but Bea reads him. He’s not sure what she’ll say and he seems cautious to show his deeper thoughts on that, but his caution is betraying him anyway. Bea knows Quinn. She speaks his language, reads his tics, and understands him. He wants this.

“Norris winners get to come inside me,” Bea says, repeating the exact words that she whispered into the speaker while he stroked himself in the Las Vegas hotel bathroom. It was his tipping point, and now she understands why. “Since you won, you get to feel all of me.” Her throat seems drier than before when she swallows. Bea’s never had that before– she’s thought about it, hence why she brought it up to Quinn in the first place. It’s why she gets the shot every three months instead of relying on condoms– in case, one day, there was a man that she wanted in the most intimate way. That day is today. “Fuck me, Quinn.”

His mouth is insistent when it joins hers, tongue dragging over her own and filling the space between her lips. “Baby,” Quinn groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Preferably not right now,” Bea jokes, lifting her hips to remind him of the task at hand. 

Quinn laughs at the joke, smiling into his next kiss. “You’re so perfect,” he says. “Can’t believe I met you.”

Bea feels his words on her heart like a prick of a rose’s thorn. A little bit of herself seeps out, flooding her chest and making her eyebrows furrow with the sudden rush of emotion. “Quinn,” Bea says, feeling like she’s whining a little bit.

“Okay, okay, I won’t say it anymore,” he says, returning his focus to the space between her legs. He wastes another few seconds, entranced by his tip going through her folds, before he lines himself up and starts to shift forward. He moans quietly at the feeling, just expelling the breath from his lungs.

Bea’s surprised by the feeling too– at least, she thinks Quinn’s feeling some sort of surprise. He’s certainly relishing in the experience, trying to catalog how she feels around him with the way his eyes have drifted shut and his mouth has fallen open. She closes her eyes to do the same– and finds that it’s not that different, all in all. She just feels closer to him.

“Please, move,” Bea whispers, resting her hand on Quinn’s bicep, giving it a squeeze to prompt him. Well, that, and she wanted to feel the muscle beneath it. The moonlight had her wondering if it was really that much more defined. 

“Gimme a sec,” Quinn grits out, taking a breath. “You just feel so–” He exhales a sharp breath. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Another thorn to the chest– Bea has to breathe in deep to steel herself. This doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore.

She’s able to put that aside when Quinn starts to drag himself out of her heat, then push back in. His hair is tickling her nose with the way that his head has fallen forward in pleasure, so Bea pushes it out of the way with her palm. Quinn’s forehead has started to bead with sweat, but only barely. His eyes catch hers.

His eye contact has always made the hair on her arms stand up, increasing her pleasure tenfold. He’s so attentive to her needs, crowding into her space and touching her tits and sides in the way that makes her feel like a lighting rod gearing up for a strike. 

Quinn breaks first. “Bea,” he murmurs, dipping his head to mouth against her neck. He leaves a wet spot there, which dries in the cool, early morning air. His hand moves from her side to her thigh, spreading her legs further so that he can inch closer. He seems determined to be as close to her as he can, touching her in every way. 

“I know,” Bea replies. “Harder, Quinn. Take it. Make me come. Need you to feel my pussy when it comes on your bare cock.”

His moan is choked but loud when she says that. Quinn’s hips start to move the way she’s used to– harder, faster, determined. He’s louder like this, or maybe it’s the silence of the basement and the night that surrounds them playing tricks on Bea’s mind. It’s just– his breath is warmer and she feels like she can feel him moving in her bones. This is more.

Quinn brings his thumb to her mouth, which Bea takes greedily. She knows his moves– he wants her to get him all wet so that he can touch her somewhere she needs. She swirls her tongue around the digit, leaving as much saliva as she can on his thumb before he pulls it from her mouth with a pop. 

His hand drifts to her boobs again, finding one of her nipples and pinching it with his slick finger. He tugs a little, which prompts Bea’s spine to arch like her body is begging him to do it again. Quinn does, but he switches nipples, wiggling his hand between their bodies and taking hold of her. He kisses her again, distracting her from the mixture of pain and pleasure. All the while, he’s bucking into her desperately, displacing her on the pool table. 

Her thigh starts to spasm under his hand, twitching because she’s close. Bea wraps her arms around Quinn’s shoulders, a mirror image of the hug she gave him at the beginning of their night. He’s not the only one who wants to be close.

“Fuck, Quinn, keep going,” Bea pleads, shifting as best she can to remove the pressure of the edge of the pool table from her body. It’s a dull ache, distracting her from Quinn’s cock and the way it moves in her cunt. His tip meets the cartilage of her cervix relentlessly, turning her vision spotty with the sensation. It feels so wet with him unprotected inside of her, leaking and mixing with her own slick. 

He shifts so that he’s hovering just a few inches above her body, hands going from her thigh and her breast to both of her hips. He grips her skin, biting his lower lip to stifle his grunts. His eyes have grown focused, narrowing the way they do when he evaluates a shot on this very table or when he tries to dance between the boys on the hockey rink outside to score. He pulls her back into him, all while thrusting his hips forward, and Bea’s falling into an unfamiliar space where only Quinn has ever placed her. 

“Fuck,” Bea whines, reaching for Quinn and coming up with nothing, so she clutches at the pocket of the pool table instead. She holds the wood between her fingers, sure that she’ll either warp the table or break her fingers from the force of her grip. “‘M coming, Q.”

“Good girl,” Quinn says through his teeth, his voice gravelly. “Let me feel it.”

Bea lets out a short cry, legs still shaking beneath Quinn. The bruising pain of the edge of the table is nothing now, not when there’s a chill making its way from the depths of her stomach to the tight coil in her stomach. 

“So perfect,” Quinn says again, praising Bea as she starts to come undone on his cock.

“You,” Bea corrects, breathless and reaching for Quinn again. She finds his forearm this time, circling her fingers around his wrist. She squeezes, trying to get her point across. He can say it all he wants, but she’s going to make sure she says it back, because he is. 

Her touch sends Quinn over the edge, which only intensifies the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Bea keens lowly in the back of her throat as Quinn’s jaw drops once again, eyes falling shut as his seed flows from his cock and paints her walls. The sensation surprises Bea, much like her original reaction to his raw form, and she constricts against him by accident. That spurs Quinn on, making him choke and plaster himself against her body as his cock releases the last of his cum.

His hips twitch inside of her after he’s done and Quinn has to clear his throat and shake his head to come back to himself. Bea pets his hair through it, focused on the feeling of his freshly cut ends between her fingers. 

“You should know that I really liked that,” Quinn says first.

Bea giggles, tugging his hair. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Quinn bites the side of Bea’s neck to chastise her for teasing him. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I’m about to leak all over the pool table in your rented house if you don’t get me to a bathroom soon,” Bea replies. “Chop chop, babydoll.”

Quinn groans with the effort, but he lifts Bea from the pool table and awkwardly walks toward the basement’s bathroom, settling her on the already-lifted toilet seat– perks of living with a bunch of fucking boys, Bea thinks– and then he starts to wash his hands.

“Tired yet?” Quinn asks for a third time, looking over at Bea and grinning as he continues to rub the suds all over his hands and wrists. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Bea makes a face. “Are you trying to wash me off or something? Damn, Q, it’s been twenty seconds,” she replies instead, pretending to be offended and hurt. She doesn’t actually want to start watching a movie at 3 a.m. and Quinn should feel similarly. She wants to go to bed with him.

Quinn looks down at her vagina, very obviously, and quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I just came in you, so I feel like that’s hard to wash away.” He rinses his hands and towels them off. “So no movie?”

“Oh my God, get out of the bathroom so I can pee,” Bea exclaims, starting to laugh a bit. “You’re so weird. No movie.”

“Episode of Love Island?” Quinn asks. “Any drama I missed between Leah and Rob?”

Bea points an accusing finger at him. “I knew you enjoyed my trashy shows,” she says. “And all this time you’ve been grumbling about them.”

Quinn shrugs. “No one will believe you,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

Bea purses her lips at him. “Well, good, because that’s my thing with Cole.” Quinn acts like he’s wounded, so Bea sticks her tongue out at him. “Not everything can be about you, Q.”

“I’ll get over it,” Quinn says. “You still like me best.”

Bea matches his previous whisper. “And no one will ever believe you.”

Quinn leaves the bathroom laughing. Bea hopes he goes upstairs to get one of the good blankets for them to share when they inevitably fall asleep on the couch after Quinn turns on a movie that Bea does not see the point in watching.

The background noise does help her sleep, though, and she thinks Quinn knows that.

sigh i love beaquinn they're so dreamy best couple ever can't believe they break up at the end of the summer OOPS SORRY SPOILERS (y'all already know that, i haven't been keeping that under wraps)

[lvndrfucks]

hiii !! are you able to do just cute tour moments with dylan ?? either on stage or not ?? thank u sm for writing for the wallows cuz i swear no one writes for them 😭

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆tour moments ft. dylan｡˚🐻𖤐🧋

➤ during performances, you sang clairo’s part in “are you bored yet?” you’d usually sing from behind your keyboard until fans were making comments that you should be up front with dylan during the verse.

just as you were about to sing, dylan quickly raced to your side and offered his hand out. you laughed while singing.

“feels like I've known you my whole life, i can see right through your lies.” hands intertwined, dylan led you to the front as the crowd roared in excitement. “i don't know where we're going, but i'd like to be by your side.”

your cheeks began to hurt from smiling as he circled around, his eyes never leaving yours. the two of you harmonized. “if you could tell me how you're feelin', maybe we'd get through this undefeated. holdin' on for so long.”

instead of going back to the keyboard, the two of you jumped around stage until the song finished.

➤ fans also made the connection that you and dylan often shared clothing. there were countless photos online that showed side by side comparisons of him wearing a shirt/sweater and you wearing the same one. they thought it was sweet and you thought it was cute how people picked up on the little things.

one time, during a concert, dylan decided to tease the audience a bit.

it was after you performed a song and were about to do the talking portion when dylan leaned into the mic.

he called your name. “i really like your shirt. where’d you get it?”

you glanced down, giggling a bit. “thanks. i’m not sure, actually. just something i found from my closet.”

“i didn’t know my suitcase was considered your closet now.”

the crowd screamed as you rolled your eyes playfully, waving a hand at him dismissively.

of course, there was one memorable moment in particular that was a fan favorite.

“hi, guys,” you beamed into the mic. “do you guys like my outfit?” it was a sheer lace crop top with black lace trim and gothic-inspired lettering. the top was paired with a denim skirt with a ruffled hem, giving it a playful touch. “my boyfriend got it for me.” more cheers erupted. “can we say thank you dylan?”

you laughed at the boy’s red face as half of the audience just screamed while there were a mix of thank you’s thrown in. braeden and cole thought it would be funny to thank dylan as well as they said it into their microphones.

➤ a lot of behind the scenes moments were shared online, whether they were on tour or in the recording studio. if you focused hard enough and squinted your eyes, you and dylan would be spotted in the background of certain scenes.

during the beginning of your guys’ relationship, you tried not to show too much pda in front of the camera. now, the two of you could care less.

most of them consisted of the two of you close to each other. you sitting on his lap, him having one arm around you. there would be little snippets of the two of you messing around thrown in.

as you were doing your makeup, dylan approached you from behind with a camcorder. you flashed him a small smile before focusing back to your makeup. he zoomed in on you through the mirror.

“isn’t she gorgeous?”

you tried biting back a smile, attempting to glare at him.

“see? she’s cute even while trying to be mad at me.” you placed your palm over the lens, pushing away gently. “hey, don’t hate the camera man,” dylan defended.

“go bother braeden.” you breathed out a laugh.

“fine. only because i like bothering him.”

dylan peppered your cheek with kisses, the camera only getting a shot of your shoulder when he leaned in. but the audience knew what happened.

➤ have you guys seen that one clip of ross lynch and jaz sinclair (rip) at one of the driver era concerts and she’s dancing around while he just stares at her in full admiration? and when she goes to walk away, he’s just following her with his lips pressed against hers, not wanting her to go?

yeah, that was definitely you and dylan.

during your songs, you interacted with the crowd quite a bit and liked to dance around the stage. dylan always had heart-shaped eyes watching as you pulled the silliest moves just to see him laugh.

you both leaned in for a kiss, but he didn’t want to pull away. you attempted to walk back to your keyboard, but he was right behind you with his lips still against yours. eventually, you placed your hand on his chest to pull back, cheeks red and smile so wide that it hurt.

“love you,” he mouthed.

you blew him a kiss that he pretended to hit his heart.

[sepherinaspoppies]

whatever may come - dark! aemond targaryen x servant reader

summary: aemond punishes his maidservant after catching her talking to a stableboy. he, however, will not recognize the consequences to his actions later on.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, noncon, dubcon, oral m receiving, cum play?, p in v sex, rough sex, possessiveness, degradation. I think that's it?

wc: 2,700

my masterlist

notes: lol this was inspired by a tiktok edit?? anyways I think this is dark? I apologize if this sounds like crap, I ruined my sleep schedule for this?? haha

byka līve: little whore

She silenced her whimpers to the best of her ability, her lower lip caught between her teeth so tightly that she could taste the metallic drops of her blood as the man above her painfully gripped the very roots of her hair jerking her trembling body away from his lap to the stone cold floor. 

She looked up through her eyelashes as she watched him correct her posture to his liking like a mere doll, the same ones she would watch him play with in the privacy of his sister’s chambers whenever she did her maid duties. 

After he had settled her into her knees, she immediately let out a sigh of relief as that burn waved itself away to solace. She continued to look at him, back and forth between his lone violet eye and his sparkling sapphire that only seemed to strangely glow whenever she was present. His expression was unreadable from the previous austere one where moments ago he remorselessly and brutally, to be quite clear, hit multiple blows against her bottom, making her count each and every single one without tears in her eyes. She never knew how to count, but Aemond made sure to teach her with each hit upwards to twenty. 

She knew Aemond was angry and he had every right to be. Earlier on the day as he was training with his mother’s knight, Criston Cole, out in the outer yard when he spotted his favorite maidservant blushing and laughing with a plainly featured stableboy as his dirty little fingers swept back a piece of loose hair out of her face. 

Never once did Aemond ever see his maidservant smile that brightly before much less directed towards him. And she had no reason to whatsoever. His presence did not bring her joy or an ounce of merriment, it was much the opposite of that. So why did Aemond believe that he deserved a little smile when all he ever did was defile, break and use her all whilst making her cry in the end? 

There was only one reason a low born male like him smiled that way and Aemond shunned those ill fitting thoughts out of his mind for he did not want to think of another man touching his maidservant. 

She was his and his only, no one else’s. And she’d do well to remember that. 

“Undress me, byka līve” Aemond demands, speaking the last two phrases in his ancestral language. Never knowing what they meant, if they were expressed appreciatively or aimed in an appraising matter. 

Deep down she had an inkling that they were not. 

She blinked, hesitantly bringing herself up from the floor. Just as she began to unfasten his black leather doublet, her hair was tugged yet again before her knees were bent back down against the stone. 

She winced, carefully not to make any sound. 

“No, byka līve, not there. Here—” His fingers threaded her hair more tightly, pressing her face flat against his pelvis. She could feel the swellness of his cock across her face, where the base of his manhood started nudging at the bottom of her chin and where the pulsating tip pressed a little above her eyes. 

But what astonished her the most was the small wet patch that amplified the smell of his sex. Surely, this was not what she thought it was. 

There was only one way to find out.

The one eyed prince released his tight grip on the roots of her hair. She wondered that by the end of the night, after he was done with her if there would be any hair left. Her hair was the only thing she liked about her appearance, the smooth texture with hidden silver highlights.

“Look at me while you undress me” 

With a shaky breath, she nodded as her hands moved to unlace his breeches, tugging down just below where his stones ended until the garment pooled at his feet. A part of her felt grateful it was him she was looking and not his throbbing parts. 

Aemond was determined to peak again, seeing his red faced maidservant so obedient and frightened before him. It almost made him want to reward her with either his fingers or tongue or mayhaps both. 

But she wasn’t here for a reward. She was unbefitting for such a thing. It was because of her whore like behavior akin to the sordid ones in the Silk of Street that filthy stableboy had his eyes already set on her. 

And he can not have that happening. 

Without further warning, she feels two of his fingers ruthlessly being shoved at the back of her throat. He gives her no time to settle what he was doing to her as his long digits begin to pump in and out of her at an outrageous pace that involuntarily makes her eyes produce tears. 

Above her, she hears her prince hum with a dark look in his eye that sends shivers down her spine. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, it was wrong. This act, along with the various ones from previous nights and mayhaps the forthcoming ones, were suitable for a married woman and her husband. Not a prince and his maidservant. She stood to gain nothing from this. 

“This mouth is mine” Aemond breathlessly whispered as his fingers curled in a come hither motion, her lips kissing his knuckles. At his words, she lets out a series of sobs loud enough for Aemond to tug her head back in distaste. 

“What? Do you have something to say in the matter? Do you not think you belong to me?” 

She shut her eyes, flinching at the sonority of his voice, thinking by doing that he would go away dissatisfied and search for someone to take her place. 

But her silence only seemed to anger him more. 

“Fucking answer me, byka līve!” he yells close to her ear. 

For the first time since her counting, she spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-y-yes, Your Grace” 

“Yes what? Hmm?” 

She gasps and opens her eyes feeling her prince’s fingers twist and pinch her covered hard nipple, “I’m- I’m yours, my prince” 

“You don’t sound so convinced that you are, byka līve” he licks his lips before tutting. Such a sound made her feel alarmed and more frightened. “Do I need to remind you, again?” Aemond asks, bringing his hand to his manhood. 

As familiarized as she was with his nakedness, she could not help to invite herself to look at all of him. Centimeters close to her face, stood his very erect cock, thick and heavy as she saw last, skin pulled back to reveal his needy red tip with mix remnants of arousal and spend. 

It brought her shame and disgust the way her core seemed to long and yearn for the fullness he brought upon her. 

Aemond, frustrated in her lack of words, taps the tip of his cock on her bottom lip before he shoves his way into her warm mouth. He could feel his maidservant whine uncomfortably from only taking half of him. Fucking weak whore. Aemond cursed to himself. He knew she could take more, she had done so before. 

“Fuck” 

Her chest heaves rapidly trying to keep her air supply to the best she can and opening her mouth wider to make it easier for her to suit his thickness since it had been a while since his cock rested around her lips. Her prince, as of late, preferred to be inside her walls in all the hours of the day and night. In that order. 

Once the one eyed prince was certain her mouth had accommodated his size, he took no more time yanking her head down sheathing every inch to the back of her throat, sighing in pleasure. 

The vibrations of her whimpers spurred Aemond on as his hips started to thrust in and out of her lips, slowly at first to enjoy the soft ridges that her throat had to offer and her tongue. Seven Hells, her tongue instinctively raising up whenever his tip rested there for a second, making him forget the reason why he was doing this in the first place. Her punishment. 

“Are–you…fuck– starting to fucking remember who you b-belong to, byka līve? Hmm?” Aemond asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out. 

“Y-yes” she forces out through the tightness of her throat, trails of drool escaping the corners of her mouth. Aemond darkly laughs and moans at her response as his hips hasten their speed, chasing his nearing peak. 

“Good girl” he coos, his eye looking down at her flushed face. “My good sweet girl” —thrust— “I’m going to cum on your face” (a/n: listen to this tiktok if you want to hear him say it lol xD okay byeee)

She has no time to react as she feels hot ropes of his seed spurting all across her face. From her eyes to her cheeks and lips she feels it all. 

She hears her prince groan, as he pumps his cock faster feeling his second release coming again. 

And this time she knew to tilt her away to not get any more on her eyes or her hair. She heard stories from other maids that a man’s seed would knot into hair, making it impossible to get rid of. She didn’t know if it was true or not but she did not want to take her chances. 

“Just as I was beginning to think to reward you” He hissed, pulling her to stand. She whimpers, her head hot and spinning from getting up too fast. 

The raged prince spins his maidservant around, using the dagger Cole gifted him for his fourteenth nameday to rip through her night shift right below the dimples of her arse. The temperature of his chambers, which wasn’t too cold nor warm, caused the little hairs around on her body to raise.  

She tried to cover her bareness with her hands, whatever could fit on her palms. Since the beginning of their coupling, Aemond commanded her that she was to keep her shift on, only slightly raised to her hips. Not that she had any complaints, but it made her truly wonder why he’d be bare and not her. 

“This” Aemond cups her soaked mound, “Cunt is mine. Mine only to fuck and to do whatever I please. It’s not some filthy– dolt stableboy’s” He growls next to her. 

She parts open her lips at the realization that he was the heated gaze she felt on her back when she was discussing with Linus at the outer yard. She should have known her prince would be there training every morning like he always was. But it must have slipped her mind somehow. 

Aemond scowls, “I saw you, byka līve. Saw you speaking to him and letting him touch you. Saw him leave your room” 

She doesn’t get the chance to reply; to tell him that what he saw was not what it looked like. But her tongue was caught between her teeth before he roughly drags her body to slightly bend her over by his dressing mirror, giving himself a few vigorous pumps as he watches his proud work dripping on his pretty maidservant’s face. 

“Please, my prince. It isn’t…oh!” Feeling him enter in one sharp thrust deep, she gasps at the sudden fullness. There wasn’t any part of her that was empty, her cunt felt so deliciously stuffed to the brim. 

“It isn’t what? Are you telling me that my eye deceived me?” He asks in a strain voice, trying to hold his authority over her whilst controlling his sounds of pleasure. “Did I or did I not see you fucking laughing with him or—Seven Hells—letting his dirty little fingers touch you? Must I remind you it is a grave offense to lie to your prince, byka līve?” 

White hot pleasure runs deep inside her belly as his thrusts quicken to get an answer from her yet she struggles to keep her composure. “N-no, my prince, Linus came t-t-to meee. He said I had a ladybug on my hair and—” she rolls her head back to rest on his shoulder feeling her peak coming closer and closer. “Said I was pretty b-but, my prince—” 

Wanting to hear no more of this, Aemond stopped his movements, much to his dismay, wrapping his hand around her throat so tightly she knew it would bruise like the other times he took her from the same exact position. 

“Oh, he called you pretty did he? I wonder what he’ll think now with my spend on your face” 

Fear and embarrassment wormed itself to her body. She did not want anyone to see her this way, exposed, bare, and being fucked by the prince of the Queen’s second eldest son. Soon enough when the time came when she was no longer useful to him, she thought about lying to her future husband–if she ever met one worthy of taking her far away from King’s Landing–persuading him she was still pure, not touched by a possessive prince. 

“No please, my prince” She protested as Aemond grabbed the small little bell that was used to call in a Kingsguard.

He ignored her pleas not even attempting to hide her nakedness or her pearly white soaked face as Ser Arryk walked into the chamber being instructed to bring Linus from the stables. 

“Hush, byka līve” He cooed behind her, repositioning his cock back into her entrance. Any moment longer, he felt like his cock would explode from another release being denied. “Now, I might not let him in but only if you do not hide your sounds” 

She nods to the vigorous deep thrusts Aemond sets in, feeling more of her slick dripping down her thighs, aiding to the heavy slapping sound of their sex coming as one. She arched her back against Aemond’s chest, releasing mixes of intense pants and moans, gazing at the way Aemond’s face scrunches from bliss through the mirror. 

“Give it to me” Aemond groans, feeling his maidservant’s cunt flutter and clench around him. A sign that her peak was forthcoming. He snakes his hand down to her bud and curses loudly at how wet she was. 

She is a whore. Aemond thinks as he circles the bundle of nerves. 

At this, she gives Aemond a series of loud cries that she knew would be heard throughout the Keep. And in the morrow the castle would be surrounded with heavy gossip of who the lewd sounds belonged to and who caused them. 

“Gods, fuck!” 

Aemond smiled through the mirror, fucking her through her peak until he too began to yell out in ecstasy. His seed spilling deep into her womb. 

After their breaths settled, two loud knocks followed by the voice of Ser Arryk caused her to look at her prince in panic, hoping he’d dismiss them since she did what he asked her to do. 

“Come,” Aemond loudly announced, grabbing a cup of Pentoshi wine from his dinner table, ignoring the sobbing pleas from his maidservant. 

She tried to back away, desperately needing to shield herself away but that only caused the silver prince to tut and shake his head as a warning. 

The door shut loudly behind Linus as he came into the chambers, slowly and unsure why he was being called into the Prince’s chambers at this hour when he should be sleeping. 

“Linus, is it?” Aemond questioned, even though he knew the answer. 

Linus averts his gaze from the Prince’s nakedness, and nods. “Y-yes, my prince, if it pleases you” 

“Well, Linus. I am in need of your opinion, and I want you to be honest with me. Do you think that she looks glorious—pretty even, with my cum on her face?” 

She can not bring herself to look at the red headed man she considered a friend, knowing that the loud silence lingering around confirmed that he did not find her pretty like he had called her, hours ago. 

In fact, no one would ever find her pretty now. She was ruined and now a whore, like her mother had been when she too was seduced by a prince. 

a/n: if requested ill release two parts of this (one when aemond meets her and another for what happens next lol)

taglist: @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @fullmoonworshipper @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @kittendoll05

bold is who I couldn't tag!

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[axelsagewrites]

Can I request Criston Cole x f!reader x Aegon? Where Aegon is just a voyeur and Criston is there to teach him to be patient and not put himself first (when having sex) with Aegon's lady wife (tough love! it was probably an idea Otto or Alicent had to just taunt Aegon some more). And Aegon just sits there looking - ofc - and yapping about Criston not having enough experience to know while reader clearly is enjoying everything that is happening ?

Criston Cole*Test My Devotion

Pairing: Criston x f!reader, Aegon x arranged wife!reader

Word count: 2515

Warnings: technically cheating but not cause Aegon said it was okay, cuck Aegon, f! receiving oral, praise, mentions of religion, possibly a tad blasphemous to the seven, p in v sex, breeding, smut 18+

Masterlist here

The marriage was not a happy one and the whole court knew. Anyone who saw you or Aegon knew it. you both knew it and Criston Cole; well, he certainly knew. While teaching Aegon to spar, which was often just the prince pretending to try swing his sword, he would complain about his wife. Specifically, the events of your marital chambers.

“She just lays there,” Aegon said, his swords tip scrapping the dirt as Criston tried to convince him to at least try this lesson, “Hardly an appealing sight for a husband,”

Criston sighed, tempted to just fling his sword in the river, “Well have you made it appealing for her?”

“What’s not appealing about sex?” Aegon said, dumb founded at the disgruntled knight, “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing,”

“Yes, but are you just having sex,” Criston said, lowering his voice even though no one was around, “or are you making love? There is a big difference my prince,”

Aegon snorted making Criston contemplate swinging his sword at his head, “You sound like a village girl. Besides what do you know about any of it?” Aegon said, finally picking up his sword again, “The only girls you please are the seven,”

It was bad enough being mocked by an uptight prince but having to hear in even more detail about the prince’s lack of a sex life from his mother no less just made matters worse. “I just don’t understand,” Alicent said as she paced her chambers, hands on hips, “She’s a woman, he’s a man. It’s not hard to make a child. Even the king could do it,” she muttered, pausing her pacing.

Criston stood even straighter when the queen turned to him, “I’m sure it will happen in time your grace,”

“We don’t have time,” Alicent said as she returned to her pacing, likely wearing down the floorboards, “No boy wants his mother in his bed chambers, but his wife must be. Perhaps if you talk to him, he’d listen to you- “

“Your grace,” he said, an awkward smile playing his face to try hide his sheer embarrassment, “I don’t think I am qualified to help- “

“Hush,” Alicent said, holding her hand out to shush him as he cleared his throat in embarrassment, “He needs guidance,” she said, continuing her pacing, “but he won’t take it from me. Perhaps if you were to talk to him, to show him how it’s done,”

“I think he knows how to do it,” Criston said, clearing his throat yet again like he’d swallowed thick tar, “I think they lack an emotional connection,”

“That was never my strong suit,” Alicent admitted, her pacing finally stopping as she sighed, “Please ser Cole,” she said, turning to him with desperate eyes, “Perhaps if you spoke to them, on their level, you’re about their age. They’ll listen to you. just try, for the sake of the realm,” Alicent plead, “I-We need an heir,”

Criston Cole soon found himself as security at each and every one of the couples’ awkward dinners. On the rare times you allowed Aegon to visit your chambers he was forced to be there two. However, he could see the way you grew bored from Aegon’s touches and how little he wished to be there.

This also however gave him plenty of time to see you, however. Rarely did you speak to him, but he noticed the way your lips curved when you called on him. He noticed the new dresses Aegon did not and the different ways you styled your hair. He may be a man of honour, a knight, a sworn protector of the realm but also you, but even he noticed your looks. How Aegon grew bored of you he could not understand.

One night after dinner Criston escorted the prince and you to your chambers in silence. The door shut and wordlessly you began to unlace your dress while Aegon pulled off his tunic. “Stop,” Criston found himself saying without thought making you both turn to look at him.

Aegon’s eyes were bored but yours were filled of a curious wonder Criston deeply wanted to explore. He approached the prince, lowering his voice but he knew you could hear, “Perhaps my prince you may try a different approach tonight,”

“I know how to have sex with my wife,” a tipsy Aegon protested, “but if you are so sure you can do better, you have my blessing ser,” Aegon said, drunkenly patting his shoulder before sauntering over to a chair to drop into, “I insist. Please dear wife, show this knight what a good time you are,” he said, sarcasm dripping off his voice.

Criston turned to you in time to see the hurt tinging your glazed eyes, but you hide it as quick as it appeared. “I cannot, my prince, it would be a dishonour,”

“More of a dishonour to deny your prince?” Aegon said, his head cocking to the side, “If you and my mother wish to poke around my bed chambers you may as well show me how it is done ser Criston. Show me how a knight does it,” he said.

He knew he shouldn’t let his taunting bother him. After all, Aegon was just a spoiled prince, and he was a knight. He knew better. But the look on your face when he glanced at you made him wonder, “Is this an order my prince?” he finally asked taking even you by slight surprise.

Aegon lent forward in his chair, gesturing for him to continue, “She’s all yours for tonight my good knight. Teach me how to make an heir,” he said as he slumped back to his seat.

Criston cleared his throat before awkwardly looking to you. he glanced at his prince before stepping closer to you. “My princess,” he said, his voice low, “I do not wish to dishonour you. I only wish to help,” he said, his cheeks tinging pink.

This time it was you who cleared your throat, stepping closer so your chest brushed against his making his blush deepen, “Perhaps my husband could do with some lessons,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his.

“May I kiss you?” he asked softly, waiting for your nod of approval before slowly leaning down, his lips softly colliding with yours. his lips were soft and slow and tender unlike Aegon’s chapped careless ones.

You leaned into his touch when his hand moved to rest on your hips, holding you gently in place as if he was afraid you would disappear. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping his strong shoulders over his tunic.

Aegon who had looked bored up till now almost perked up in his chair when he saw the way Criston’s hands slipped to the small of your back, pressing your body into his firm chest. “You are a gift from the gods themselves,” Criston mumbled against your lips, staring at you have drunk from the kiss.

“Such comparisons are surely blasphemous my dear knight,” you said, your hand moving to brush against his cheek.

He instinctively leaned into your touch, “No, no, my princess,” he said, turning his head so he could kiss your palm gently, “For I think they sent you to me. As a test,”

“And what kind of test would that be?” you enquired, and Criston studied the way confusion mapped your face.

Slowly he stepped forward, leading you towards the marital bed you usually dreaded but now not so much. “To test my devotion,” he said as the backs of your legs hit the bed frame softly, “and so I can prove my worship for them,”

“Perhaps its not a test at all,” you said quietly, leaning up to kiss his jaw. Creston’s breath caught in his throat at your sudden forwardness, his fingers slowly slipping up to the ties of your dress, “Perhaps they sent me as a reward,”

“No,” he said, clearing his throat as his fingers played with the ties of your dress, desperate to unlace it or tear away the fabric, “I have done nothing to deserve such a grand reward. I must earn it princess. We should not take what we do not deserve,” his words made you smile lightly. Aegon had never earned your affection, but Criston was determined to prove himself.

“Then earn it dear knight,” you whispered, kissing his lips softly, “Show the gods how much I mean to you,”

Your words sent his honour over the edge and soon your dress had pooled around your ankles. Your hands went to reach for the straps of his armour, but his hands covered yours, stopping your movements as he kissed you gently. “Lay down princess,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your face and making you flush.

You did as you were told, not even sparing a glance to where Aegon sat watching mesmerised by the whole scene. Criston made quick work of his armour, discarding the steel at the side of the bed. Once he was down to an undershirt and under trousers he kneeled at the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning your bodies hungrily.

“You can tell me to stop,” Criston said, his hands trailing slowly up your legs as he moved closer to your body, “It won’t offend me princess,”

“I want this,” you whispered, your eyes glued to his movements while his were glued to your body. “I want you my knight,”

My knight. The words made his eyes snap up, looking into yours making your breathing pause for a moment while your heart fluttered. You were too distracted to even notice him moving to kiss your inner thigh.

You gasped lightly, not expecting his soft trails of kisses up your inner thigh, “What are you doing?” you asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion but not wanting him to stop.

“Has your husband never done this for you?” he asked, his hot breath fanning over your wet cunt making you almost moan already. When you shook your head no Criston tutted, “No wonder he’s had no success. He has failed his husbandly duties. Let me show you princess, how an honourable man treats a wife,”

Your eyes glanced to your husband before back to the man you really wanted, “Yes,” you whispered, your body already on fire with anticipation, “Show me,”

Criston started by placing a soft kiss to your clit making you whine lightly. “You can grip my hair,” he said, glancing up at you, “if it helps,” he added and for a moment you considered saying no until he placed another soft kiss to your nerves and suddenly you were tugging his soft dark hair.

Slowly he began to increase his speed, his tongue being added to the mix as he massaged your clit with his mouth. You couldn’t help the moans as your legs were placed over his shoulders and his arms gripped your legs to keep you in place.

Not once had this tightening feeling happened when Aegon had bedded you but suddenly it was like your body was alight. You gasped loudly when you felt his tongue dive into your hole, curling in all the right places. He moved his head till his nose began to nuzzle your clit and your grip of his hair tightened. “Don’t stop,” you begged, over and over in an almost whisper like a prayer.

He had no intentions too especially when your grip tightened. He could feel his own member harden but it was too soon for that. This was more important. Spurred on by the moans and pretty whines Criston replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them in and out as he thrust. Meanwhile his mouth moved up, his lips wrapping around your sensitive clit making your whole-body twitch.

It didn’t take long for a new feeling to wash over your body as your legs twitched around his head. Criston’s movements slowed but they did not stop until he felt your body grow limp. When he came up for air he saw you, eyes dazed as you panted like you’d seen the gods. You lazily looked down at him, offering him a hand as if you could pull him up.

Criston took your hand, kissing the back of it as he moved to lay over your body. He brushed the hair out of your face, kissing the top of your head, “Princess, are you okay?”

“I am better than okay sweet knight,” you said, already breathless but your legs were instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Please do not leave me yet,” you said, pulling his waist down till his hard on was pressing into your cunt.

Criston closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to steady himself, “Are you sure princess?” he finally asked, opening his eyes to gaze into yours, “For I fear, as honourable as I try, I won’t be able to stop if this is just to test me,”

“This is not a test,” you said, your hands moving to cup his face, “I need you, my knight. I need to feel you,”

He couldn’t wait anymore but he tried to be patient as he lined up his painfully hard cock with your hole. Slowly he began to push the tip in, and he almost came just from the way you gasped as he pushed in.

You whined as he sunk in further, desperate for more but already feeling stretched out. When he’d sunk fully in you brought his lips to yours, kissing them desperately as your hips bucked for friction. He was glad to grant it.

His thrusts were slow and deep at first but as your nails sunk into his back, your mouth agape and your eyes screwed shut, they began to speed up. He slipped his hand between your body, rubbing sloppy fast circles onto your clit as his pace increased.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper as the headboard began to slam against the wall. Your head twisted to the side, your eyes opening to see a silent Aegon sat on his seat, his hand down his own trousers. Your attention was brought back to your knight when you heard curses mumbled from his soft lips.

“I can’t,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming messy, “I’m going to- “he stammered but your grip around him tightened. He groaned when he felt the way your cunt clenched around him.

“Please,” you gasped, feeling another peak close by and threatening to spill, “don’t stop Criston, please,” you moaned, before your own orgasm washed over you as your nails raked down his back leaving red scratches.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his body tensing as he finally let himself go. With only a couple more thrusts you felt Criston finish inside you, his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to recover from the earth-shattering experience.

Once he finally caught his breath he sat up, glancing to where Aegon sat just two feet away, “That my prince, is how you fuck your wife,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[cvnticon]

L-O-V-E! 𝐛𝐬𝐟!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

dividers/ @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: this is my first official fic, so please be kind! leave me some feedback!

contains:: bsf!chris fluff! kissing, a lil angst if you squint and nick being the best triplet ever!

you sat on the edge of the bleachers, watching your best friend, Chris, run across the field, laughing as he kicked the soccer ball toward his brother Matt, who’d just stolen it from him. you could recognize that laugh from miles away—the easy, infectious laugh that somehow made everything seem better, even on your worst days. Chris had always been that way for you, a light in the dark, someone you could rely on. But the truth was, your feelings for Chris had started changing a long time ago. you weren’t sure when exactly it had happened, but you knew now, without a doubt, that you were in love with him.

You two have been best friends since middle school. Chris and his two brothers, Matt and Nick, had moved into your neighborhood one summer, and since then, you have been inseparable. As triplets, the brothers were always grouped together, but each had a unique personality that set them apart. Matt was the driven one, focused and competitive. Nick, always easygoing and warm-hearted, was unapologetically himself, And then there was Chris, somewhere in the middle—a blend of kind, adventurous, and unpredictable. He was your safe place, your best friend, and your secret crush.

you knew it was silly to feel this way; you’d tried to convince yourself of that countless times. Chris had always seen you as a friend, a sister almost, and you were terrified of ruining the bond they had. But it didn’t make your heart hurt any less every time you saw him smile, laugh, or hug you goodbye a little too long. you could feel your heart throb with unspoken words you’d never dare to let out.

One afternoon after practice, Chris jogged over to the bleachers and plopped down beside you, his face flushed from running, strands of his dark hair sticking to his forehead. “You’re coming to the bonfire tonight, right?” he asked, nudging your shoulder.

you shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, I guess. Are you bringing anyone?”

“Just you,” he replied casually. “You’re my best friend, remember?”

your heart sank a little at that word—best friend. It felt like a constant reminder that friendship was all he wanted. But you mustered a smile, pushing the ache aside, and nodded. “Of course. It’ll be fun.”

Later that night, they gathered on the beach with friends. A fire crackled as laughter and music filled the air. Chris sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. you looked over at him, watching the way the firelight danced across his face, casting soft shadows along his cheekbones. He noticed your gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“Something on my face?” he teased.

“No,” you replied quickly, looking away as your cheeks flushed. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?”

you hesitated. “Nothing important.”

Chris studied your face, but before he could press further, Matt and Nick appeared, laughing and jostling each other. Nick plopped down on the sand next to you, tossing an arm around your shoulders.

“Y/N, have you ever thought about dating anyone? Like, seriously?” Nick asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

you laughed, trying to brush off the question. “Well…maybe.”

“Interesting…” Nick said, shooting a look at Chris, who was now very interested in a stick he was poking in the sand. “You know, Chris is single. Just saying,” he added with a wink.

Chris rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Nick, please stop matchmaking.”

your face grew warm. you wished you could tell them how much you’d thought about it, how often you’d pictured being more than just friends with Chris. But instead, you just laughed it off, playing along with Nick’s joke.

A few days later, Chris showed up at your house unexpectedly. He looked uncharacteristically serious, his usual playful smile absent. “Can we talk?”

you felt your stomach twist. “Sure. What’s up?”

They walked down to the park nearby, silent for most of the way. When they reached a quiet spot, Chris finally stopped and turned to you, looking almost nervous.

“Nick told me something the other day. He thinks… he thinks you might have feelings for me,” he said softly, his gaze searching yours.

your heart plummeted. you didn’t know how to answer. you felt like you’d been caught in your most vulnerable moment.

“Chris, I—”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to hold yours. “Look, Y/N, I…I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you as my friend. But, if I’m being honest, I think about you all the time. I keep trying to tell myself we’re just friends, but I don’t know if that’s true anymore.”

you felt your heart pounding, your mind spinning. you looked up into his eyes, unable to believe what you were hearing. “Really?”

Chris nodded, his thumb brushing over your hand gently. “I don’t want to mess this up. But I also can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you anymore.”

Without thinking, you leaned up, closing the gap between them, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft and tentative, full of emotions you’d kept locked away for so long. When they finally pulled back, Chris looked at you, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“So…what now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I guess we see where this goes. Together.”

They stood there, hand in hand, knowing that things between them would never be the same. But for the first time, you felt that maybe, just maybe, everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

sorry guys i tried my best 🤍🤍 ik rn some people are craving fluff!! gimme some feedback please!! please ask me in my inbox if you want to be tagged once i post!! i made this while listening to the song L-O-V-E for literally over an hour!

[oldwritingm]

Good Morning/Evening!!

Could I request Dating Cole Brookstone Headcanons?

I see you are a person of fine taste, my friend!! It would be my pleasure to fulfill this request!

Ninjago - Dating Cole Brookstone Headcanons

I see him as a natural romantic

Like, he doesn’t even have to try

He just does stuff and it’s so perfect

Like, he’ll thoughtlessly pull you into a slow dance when his favorite song comes on

(Side note: he LOVES to dance with you)

Or he’ll “surprise” you with a fancy restaurant reservation and flowers (he really just forgot to tell you earlier and got the flowers because they reminded him of you)

Or he’ll spout the most heartfelt compliments at random moments

“You really are the most beautiful person ever.”

“…I’m just scrolling on my phone though? In my unwashed pjs???”

All this without even specifically trying to be romantic

He’s just being himself

His favorite kind of date is to go out to dinner

He likes trying new things with you, so one of you will pick an obscure restaurant to try out each time

Whether it’s palatable or not, you always have a good time anyway

If the food sucks, you bond over the horrible experience

“Wow. That was horrible.”

“Ugh, I know. Was that rice or shredded tire rubber?”

“Honestly, the latter would’ve tasted better.”

“Pfff—”

Talking over a table with the din of restaurant ambience is like your guys’ own love language

You’ll talk about anything and everything

Light topics, dark topics, deep topics, whatever comes to mind

He’s a really deep and reflective person, so your deep conversations are often the most meaningful

He’s also absolutely hilarious though, so joking around is a very close second

Speaking of, his love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation

As mentioned before, he’s a natural at giving compliments

But he also uses the L word quite liberally

Definitely the first to say “I love you”

He loves cuddling

He’s a big guy, so you already know he’s optimally huggable

Doesn’t mind what cuddling position; he just likes to be close to you

If he had to pick a favorite, though, he likes to lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat

Whenever he has to go away on a mission, he gives you the biggest bear hug

He’ll lift you off your feet, squishing your faces together and peppering your cheek with kisses

The hug he gives you when he gets back isn’t quite so energetic, but it’s no less romantic

He’ll lean on you a little more, relaxing his form to fit against yours perfectly as he lets out a long sigh

He’ll rub your back absentmindedly while he murmurs how much he missed you

Those are some of his best hugs, but he also frequently just lifts you up in a quick two-second hug, sometimes even from behind

“Ack! Cole, put me down!”

“Ha, sorry babe. You’re just so darn lovable, how am I supposed to not hug you?”

“Don’t apologize; I just want to hug you back!”

Also big on touching

Not necessarily PDA (but he won’t object if you like that), just maintaining physical contact

Hand holding, an arm around your shoulder, pinky-locking, anything really

Even if it’s just touching shoulders

Likes to get creative with cute nicknames as well

His go-tos are babe, baby, sweetheart, and angel face/cakes

But you’ve also heard pumpkin, muffin, munchkin, gorgeous, sugar, teddy bear, cuddle monster, etc…

Plus some… interesting… original ones

“Hello, my lovely little dragon snackie!”

“Cole. I love you but what was that.”

He will ascend to the heavens if you give him literally any affectionate nickname

Gives you the biggest grin whenever you use it

Honestly he smiles whenever you say his name, but cute nicknames will really get him

I hope this was alright! Thank you for this splendid request, and thank you for reading! Take care you cultured folks <33

[dragonbarbie]

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

aemond targaryen x prostitute!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: jealous!aemond x prostitute!reader; aemond finds himself being pulled in by the most famous woman of the street of silk, but tempers flare when he sees her pay attention to other lords

word count: 2.5k

tags: mature content, sex work, mentions of past chocking, reader being handled slightly roughly in places

note: this is technically a continuation of my one-shot riding a dragon, but can be read as a standalone tbh

it was rare for a woman of the street of silk to actively look forward to a particular client’s visit. love or affection were things to be sold in this part of town, on a per night basis. those moments spent being so utterly naked, vulnerable with someone, were not supposed to signify any real connection between the parties involved. the women simply played whatever role that was the desire of the one paying, and come morning the reality would set in, leaving behind only a pouch full of coin as evidence. and there was no actress more adept at this theatre, than y/n.

she could tell instantly if a man needed her to be adoring or dominating, have her bat her doe eyes at them or a wicked smile. but the dragon prince had been an enigma to her that first night he had visited. his expression was unreadable, but he was prone to a high temper clearly. there was ice in those veins, yet fire behind that eye. she could sense that associating with him was dangerous for her, for he was not the kind of man who would offer her sweetness and warmth, he was fire she risked immolating herself with.

yet, the next night she was entertaining the brothel’s visitors, she found her eyes searching for silver hair in the crowd. though like most nights, that night too there was a line of men showering her with praises for her beauty, her grace, her charm, and yet she felt unsatisfied. she played her part though, ever dutiful. but as the lord who’s name erased itself from her memory as soon as he tied his pants back on, left her after a tedious session, she stood by her window and stared in the direction of the red castle that loomed over the city.

she wondered if he was sleeping in there, probably on a large, comfortable bed, made up for him by a small army of servants. she imagined he had had a full supper complete with wine, before letting sleep come to him. perhaps he was tired from whatever work had pulled him away from her that morning. or perhaps, she thought with a twisted smile, he was lying in the arms of some fine lady, her fine jewellery placed on a table next to his bed, and her fine clothes discarded to the floor.

she chuckled at her own foolishness, for forgetting where she stood, what part of town, what building. how could she have thought for a moment, that a prince would revisit her? he had his dragons, crowns, and ladies. he had no need for her. he would remain a pleasant memory, a story she would tell the younger girls when they ask her about her heyday, about days when her name decorated the tongue of every noble lord in king’s landing, she thought with a humourless smile.

as she slept that night, she dreamt of dragons, castles and bright fire. seven nights passed, until she no longer held hopes of any prince gracing her with his presence.

those seven nights – aemond targaryen was being torn apart from the inside.

on one end, pulling him, was his desire to remain the dutiful son his mother believed him to be, to stick to that code of a knight that cole was always talking about, the desire to be strong – and strong men were not beholden to the charms of a whore.

on the other, was her scent. he could smell her perfume everywhere. it was strong, sweet, it reminded him of flowers that lined his mother’s gardens. it clung to his clothes, to his skin. he found it inescapable, days passed and yet he felt stuck in the memory of her perfume.

he found himself less focused in those days, a fact which infuriated him even more. eventually he decided that perhaps if he fucked her one more time, he could get this longing out of him.

so he donned his nondescript cloak once again, and his feet took him back towards the brothel.

he did not have to waste time looking for her.

he entered the big salon where he had seen her dancing last time, and sure enough – she stood before him on the same raised platform. she was not repeating her movements from last time, he noted as he hung back in the crowd that was intently watching her. but rather than feeling captivated by the way her body moved, as he had originally been, he was infuriated.

the curves of her body were barely veiled in her dress, and on display for every man present to leer at. he was painfully aware that he was not the only one with a right to see her like this, no, he had no right on her at all. then why did he feel like it was something of his which was being stolen, with the way her hips were moving?

he wanted to pull her off that stage and drag her somewhere far from these men, and was fantasising about doing just that, when he saw one brazen lord rise and approach her. he was instantly on alert, but this did not seem to faze her at all, she only gave the lord a mirthful smile. then, the prince saw the silver coin in the lord’s hand, and when he realised that he was approaching to place it in between her breasts – he saw red.

the next moment the transgressing lord’s face was pressed against the wall, blood spewing out of his mouth since the force with which the prince had grabbed him had most certainly broken a teeth or two. there were shrieks that followed at the scene, patrons scrambling. but the one-eyed prince did not pay heed to any of it. his eye remained on her as his hand dug deeper into the lord’s neck.

she stood frozen, taken completely by surprise at his presence. her breathing had become shallow, her feet planted to the ground as her wide eyes stared back at him. somehow his expression seemed to be telling her that she was in fact lucky it wasn’t her who was being pinned by the prince so brutally.

in his eyes, in his twisted logic, she was equally to blame for this, he determined. she was clearly going to allow this other man to grope her – she had been smiling, seven hells.

the commotion had caused for the madame of the institution to come running to inspect the scene, “my prince! you cannot –” she was a firm woman, had it been anyone else causing her customers to panic, she would have told them off immediately, but how do you do that to a prince of the realm? she seemed speechless.

aemond simply shoved the man to the ground, before reaching for y/n. she did not back away, partly because she knew there could be no escape. but what scared her, was that she also wanted it.

he’d come back for her. against all odds, he had come back.

he grabbed her forearm and took off in the direction of the stairs that he remembered her taking him up last time, throwing a bag of coins in the direction of the madame with a heavy thud.

the tightness of his grip, reminded her of how his hand had felt around her throat last time, and she was guessing that this time too she would be left with a bruise to deal with. she did not protest though, as he dragged her to her room and then threw her to the bed.

he was on top of her, knees on either side of her and one large hand holding both of her own down above her head. when his other hand reached down, she thought he was going to chock her again. instead, it reached to place a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

“that was a wonderful performance. it’s remarkable that you have the stamina to practice after allowing all these men to fuck you every night.” he never had to raise his voice at her, but the danger in his tone was evident regardless. as was the jealousy. “i’m a hard worker, your grace.” she refused to let the fear in her heart show on her face.

“‘your grace’” he mocked her, “not many women of low-birth would know the proper way to address a prince. but i assume having fucked lords all your life, you’d have to be incredibly dense to not pick up a few things at least.” he was speaking the truth, plain and simple. and yet, his directness was cutting at her. but there was something more to his tone, she realised, something more accusatory, as if she had offended him by being a woman of the street of silk.

“noble lords such as yourself are very particular about titles, and i’m a fast learner.”

“yes i know, always looking to please. you did a brilliant job at it that first night, saying and  doing all the right things.” the memory of her insisting he remove his eyepatch when he fucked her was fresh in his mind. that one moment had seemed more intimate to him than lying inside her. she had kissed his scar, pretended to be so…affectionate. “but all of it is for show. the accent of a highborn woman, the exquisite clothes, the sweet words, the tender touches, they all hide what you truly are – a woman rotten to the core.”

“a whore.” she agreed. she had heard much worse insults in her life, but this one twisted inside her like a knife. when he had last been with her, he had treated her with more respect than she had known in her life. he hadn’t used her like an object, to be discarded once its usefulness was over. he had been curious about her, careful in his inspection and not hurried by his own desire. where had that man gone?

“yet that fact did not seem to trouble you when you fucked me last time?” her tongue was bolder than she had ever allowed it to be in front of a patron, but a wounded animal would instinctively fight back. “not all of us were born inside castles, or grew up being spoon-fed by servants. my world is leagues beyond yours, you cannot even begin to comprehend the dangers of it and i do not owe you an explanation as to how i survive in it.” she was suddenly very aware that he already had her pinned down on her bed with his body, and beating her senseless for her impertinence would be like child’s play for him. yet all he did, was stare down at her, his eye cold and emotionless. under its harsh gaze, she finally looked away, turning her neck so she wasn’t staring up at him.

“besides,” she felt a few hot tears roll down her cheeks, “if you cared so much about me fucking other lords, perhaps you should have shown your face here earlier.” if he could display his jealousy in such manner, then she decided that she would not hide her grievance at his seven night long absence either.

aemond knew that he could not have this right over her, the right to feel jealous, possessive. she was not his wife, she was not his in any way that mattered. and he was not hers, either. yet, he realised as the corner of his lips turned upwards, she was trying to claim this right over him, by being upset at his absence. he realised she felt it too, this unspoken pull they had towards one another.

“how many?” he coolly asked, causing her to turn back towards him, confused, “how many men… did you fuck… since i was last here?” he slowly repeated. she swallowed at his question, fearing that one wrong answer could earn her more than barbed words. “nine.” she replied, voice quavering. “and how much did you charge them?” that question threw her for a loop. “5 golden dragons each.”

to her surprise, he bent down at her response, and kissed her neck. “i will break–” his lips trailed further down her neck, “—five bones each—”, grazing her collar bone, “—of every man—”, her chest, “—who took what was mine.” a shudder ran down her back as he sealed his promise by pressing his lips to hers.

this time when he lay with her, she noted that something had changed. their first time, he had been less sure, his inexperience showing. now he was more confident, demanding, rougher with his movements. when his mouth laid kisses on her body, she knew she would find herself littered with bruises the next day. when he gripped her hips as he thrust into her, she felt his grip down to her bone. it was as if he we were attempting to touch every part of her skin that another might have lingered on, and leave his own imprint on each inch.

she too, committed her own small transgressions. she found herself moaning for him by name, with each thrust. gone were the chants of ‘my prince’, replaced with her whispering ‘aemond’, delicately as if revealing an ancient secret. if the prince minded such insolence, such disrespect to his station, he did not say.

neither of them attempted to move once they were spent. clothes long discarded, the prince remained slump with his head lying upon her chest, arms enclosing around her. she stared up at the ceiling, fingers absentmindedly playing with silver hair. “i can’t decipher” she suddenly began to say, more to herself than him, “whether you’re the noble knight, brooding, righteous and disciplined; or, the cruel prince, domineering, violent and selfish?”

most days he couldn’t decide where he lay on that scale either, aemond realised. but he answered instead, “for you, a bit of both.” her lips twitched upwards at the response. that, she could live with, she thought. as he shifted to remove his weight off of her, a small whine involuntarily escaped her. she wordlessly watched him pick up and wear his tunic and pants back on, knowing that to ask him of his plans to return would be of no use. but she did have something to clarify.

“it’s not an act.” he stopped tying the string to his pants, and looked down at where she laid. she was refusing to meet his eye, still staring upwards. “you said my “sweet words” and “tender touches” were an act. they’re not an act when it’s you.” her heart was hammering away at her chest as she confessed. she slowly turned to look at him and add “surely, you must know that.” how could he not see right through her, see how vulnerable he made her? she wondered.

when he looked inside those eyes, he saw an unabashed sense of sincerity. but his expression gave away neither acceptance nor rejection of her claim.

he put on his boots and gathered his things. as he stood by the door, he turned to her, “if i hear of you dancing, or entertaining another man for a single night, i will burn this place down and you with it.”

she smirked at his declaration, “is that a promise?”

note: i love this concept so so much not me already having plans for a next part thats maybe?? a touch of fluff? i need it after the angst

[willowed-wisp]

HER KNIGHT, HIS HEART - part eight

previous | next

Ser Harwin Strong x female!OC/ x reader

WARNINGS: swearing, descriptions of childbirth, mentions child loss, suggestive themes, violence, Criston Cole getting his ass kicked

TEN YEARS LATER…

Elspeth was on a mission, her destination were Alicent’s chambers. Every part of the woman was swollen and she didn’t know whether it were her breasts or beneath her diaphragm that burned. It had been like that very early on in her seventh pregnancy.

Nobody was surprised when she popped out an army, the depravity sounding from their chambers… it wouldn’t take a genius to know she’d become pregnant over and over.

Their eldest, Alyric, was three-and-ten while their youngest, Lyonei, was four.

Knocking on the door… she met a mop of platinum blonde, a strong jaw followed. Her stare lasted mere seconds, turning attention to the open-eyed, mortified sister of hers. “Alicent…” Her head shunned away. Now her focus remained on that of the Rogue Prince- who had been tamed by Laena Velaryon that past decade, “What in the hells did you say?”

“Only the truth, daughter…”

Storming over to him, “I will never be your daughter!” She stared up at him, the same scowl he himself had and the same wickedness- even in High Valyrian. It was returned with a smile.

“The blood of the dragon runs thick…” By the Gods, she would stab him if she got the chance.

“I’m nothing like you.”

“That’s yet to be seen.”

She reminded herself of why she was here- why had he been there in the first place? “What business do you have here?”

“I was asking The Queen if my grandchildren might accompany the princes down to the Dragonpit…”

“Can you stop speaking fucking Valyrian? Prince Daemon, please leave. My sister and I have matters to discuss…” He gave a less than respectful bow. They both seethed. “You are his kin. And it somehow slipped your mind to inform me!” That was their mother in her.

Elspeth's own anger boiled deeper- primal even. Yet she contained that eruption- it wasn't good for the baby. For now. “Father told me well over a decade ago,” that struck a heartstring in the younger, “I didn’t say anything to protect you… you had more than enough on your shoulders.” Elspeth observed the face change. “I was embarrassed.”

“How so?”

“I am a bastard, Alicent. I’ve been trying to escape it… escape him… keep him away from my children,” Rage turned to recoil- for fifteen years she had felt hopeless with the sword over her head, “Please, sister… understand that... I need to protect them…”

It wasn't a scapegoat nor did she cry crocodile tears... she had always been trying to keep her kids safe. It didn’t matter if Alyric was thirteen, he still couldn’t deal with the likes of Daemon Targaryen. Even if his own father was Lord Commander of the City Watch. Luckily for her sanity the prince along with his wife and twin girls were headed to Pentos that next day.

"When you were younger you always looked up to me... what changed?" An ambush down the corridor.

A roll of her eyes, "Could we have this conversation later? Every part of me is swollen, my ribs are like daggers and I cannot be bothered with your manipulation today..." Despite the agony she paced quicker, or so she thought.

"You're just like your mother," Gods, did she wish she was armed.

Continuing forward, "Don't talk about my mother. Not after the pain you caused her."

His hand, with a surprising level of gentleness turned her to face him- the eight month old bump affirmed a comfortable distance. "What did Otto Hightower tell you? That I attacked Alyrie?"

"Didn’t you? Then why am I here with your blood in my veins..."

A sincere, stern look on the man's face- he hesitated in his words, "The times I shared with your mother were of her choice... my decisions may be... questionable, at times... but I’m not heartless." She shoved him away, unsure.

"That's yet to be seen, my prince..." She did the proper action of a curtsy, unable to commit to it fully due to her condition. That confused her even more.

Had her father lied to her all of those years? An entire decade.

She did naturally have a liking for Daemon in an idolisation type of manner, they shared the same temperament; knowing fully well why they did.

The woman needed to see her children, probably in the courtyard…

She shares his majesty’s presence on the balcony- spying if her wayward children and husband were in fact there. “Your Grace,” she curtsied with some labour. It had definitely been the hardest pregnancy- even when her twin boys, Jaimes and Ronin, made home in her stomach. She hoped the bloating would fade when she delivered- not wishing to feel blistered her entire life.

The King- dishevelled due to illness- waved his hand, “No need for such formalities, Elspeth- we are family,” he didn’t know how closely related they truly were.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he motioned for her to take a perch- she smiled up at the Hand of the King, her father-in-law.

Turning her attention down to the courtyard she saw no knight of the name Harwin Strong, only that of Criston Cole. With him, the princes and her own children stood. Listening to every word he said. “I’m going to see if Ser Criston requires assistance with training,” her feet despised her but she stood. Buckling slightly, held firmly by Lyonel.

“Maybe some rest would benefit you, Elspeth,” the man said with caution. “Ser Criston is the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms- he can handle training the children…”

She patted the hand on her shoulder, “Rest is for the dead,” she joked, though she could be in the grave that very next month.

Early on into her pregnancy she was diagnosed with ‘toxic birth disease’. The mortality rate was… devastatingly high, and she informed the Maesters not to divulge to her Lord husband- he worried so…

She would make it through… she had to for the children she made her way down for.

That same courtyard she used to hack training mannequins and Harwin would always catch her. But now she bore witness to her own children- even her own girls alongside their brothers and cousins.

Alyric stood out like a sore thumb, tall and already gaining his father’s ballast. Even his smile was like Harwin’s and his fighting stance. That grin turned into a scowl, and shouting commenced. “Ser Criston, Luke is struggling, if I may-,”

“No little Lord Strong, you may not. Lucerys must learn, as I did from the pommel of a sword or the blade itself,” Elspeth liked neither the condescension nor the tone the knight used. “If you’re a trained warrior, Alyric, spar with me.” He grappled the front of the boy’s shirt, who was able to maintain balance from the brute force.

She staved off intruding- Alyric wouldn’t care for the embarrassment of conceding because of his mother being protective. Like his father, Alyric was formidable in stature and presence but that didn’t provide technique.

Ser Criston presumed he would have the eldest Strong on the floor in one strike but Alyric was a young brute. Until the knight crushed him to the ground, “You’re not the best there has been, boy. Maybe the Lord Commander needs to teach you modesty,”

That was the last straw, “Ser Criston.” The children shivered at that voice- for there was nothing they feared more than the wrath of their mother, “We are finished here for the day children…” voice as soft as silk and as gentle as a feather. They ran along- Gwen ushering the younger ones out.

And she did not care if they had an audience overhead, “I do not take orders from you. You may be of royal birth, but you are still a bastard.” He must have overheard Daemon and Alicent.

“You forget yourself, Cole. Strong words for a common-born concubine.” His hand wrapped her cheek before she could think. Not phased she readied for his raised fist, aiming for her face. But he found the floor thanks to a swiftly negotiated knee to the crotch. Done so with grace and decorum. “A reminder of who my father is. Now stay on your knees… where you rightfully belong,” venom rolled off her tongue. Looking up towards the disapproving faces of the King and Lyonel Strong.

A face far too sweet for the person behind it gave a snide smirk, “You sound just like him,” he paused - studying her every move, “Your mouths move far too much, for what you both are… conniving cunts.” Contemplating whether or not to crouch down, deciding not to; being eight months along.

"You're the one on the floor after hitting a lady who is with babe..." Her shadowed green gaze bore straight into the man's soul, "What a sad little life, Cole... now they all see what a wretch you are."

Elspeth agreed with him. She did sound like Daemon, but at least with the Rogue Prince you knew what to expect.

The unexpected.

Clutching her swelled stomach, she paced to her sister's chambers. Heart pounding, her back felt constricted. Elspeth greeted the guards stationed outside of the door with politeness, stepping into the room- finding those big brown eyes. "Elspeth...?"

"Your 'sworn shield' just hit me... King Viserys and the Lord Hand saw it for themselves…" Elspeth's forehead felt clammy- cheeks reddened.

"Ser Criston... hit you?" The woman didn't know if she nodded in answer to her sister.

Alicent's arm wrapped around her older sister- feeling how hot she was. The unmistakeable coiling in her lower stomach was all too familiar, "Fuck..."

"What is it?" Something felt different, body numb. She could no longer feel or hear Alicent. To her, she was in a forest with her mother's long red hair swaying as they rode deeper into the trees. But in reality her sister screamed for the assistance of Maesters and for the presence of the strongest knight in the Seven Kingdoms.

Curls were the first thing she awoke to followed by bloodshot eyes like the ocean. "My strong knight..." Milk of the poppy, she presumed- reaching her hand to rub his cheek with her thumb. His rigidity solved itself as he welcomed that warmth- not nearly as searing as she had been beforehand. But even under the influence, Elspeth knew her husband- something was direly wrong. "What troubles you?"

Then she remembered snippets. How she rattled the King's quarters with cries to keep her baby safe... "No... we couldn't have lost the baby... Harwin..." Tears wrapped his eyes, shaking his head. The murmurs of child-like giggles in the distance.

"We have a daughter..." But a plague cast over him, until he broke. Normally she was the one cracking like a piece of glass. His name sounded so divine on her lips and her touch a warm reminder that he was alive as was she.

His body rocked the bed with sobs as her arms enveloped his bulking frame. His golden cloak beneath her fingertips, "We're both here. The Stranger will have to make a better attempt..."

"You were dead,” time stopped. She hadn’t been crying, but when Harwin; a man who possessed such redoubt, quivered in his whisper… she couldn’t help it. “The Maesters said that your insides failed you, and by some miracle,” a tear shed, “you are here… by my side. And so is our darling daughter. What shall we name her?”

Her head crashed against the pillow. The look on his face imprinted in her memory- one of joy laboured by disparity, “A miracle… Mirabel… our little Mia,” the innocent face of the girl present- Rhaenyra holding the girl in her arms.

She had been crying, “She may be the cutest button of your brood… what is her name?”

“Mirabel… our Mia…”

Criston Cole was brought to justice. The King was appalled, and the prince was blind with fury. “Ser Criston Cole… you have been a faithful knight to the Crown, but today I witnessed abhorrent actions that are forbidden as a member of the Kingsguard nor of any noble man,” Elspeth watched on alongside her husband, “Before I cast judgement, speak… what do you have to say for yourself?”

Elspeth respected the king, but he was too lenient. “The words of Lady Elspeth are as tainted as her blood, Your Grace…”

“What do you mean? Lady Elspeth is a just, fair woman,”

“She is a bastard, Your Grace, not the daughter of Otto Hightower,” Viserys’ laughed at the man knelt down.

Elspeth was frozen in the crowd of nobility- all eyes on her, “And who may her father be?” The King held genuine amusement to the accusation.

The heavy doors opened, and so entered the Prince Daemon, “She is my kin.”

Ser Criston, no matter how true his claim had been, was exiled to the Wall. While Elspeth became legitimised under the eyes of the King and of the Seven. Though, Viserys was not thrilled- he was glad peace was made with Daemon, who remained in Kings Landing.

Laena passed away giving birth to their third child, killed by dragonfyre- Vhagar. The question of Rhaenyra’s children wasn’t thrown into contention, and they were never to know that the disgraced knight Ser Criston Cole was their father. But Elspeth knew what Jace and Luke were- but she loved them like her own sons. She would protect them with her dying breath.

And she did not break that vow, even against her own sisters. Lylith had always loved animals, held such compassion that she spent her free days compiling a bestiary of the creatures of Westeros. She was unlike Gwen, who loved hunting- alike their mother. The second born daughter had never detailed Vhagar up close.

During the wake of Laena Velaryon, she sought out the she-dragon. They feared she had been eaten, but she arrived returned on green back of the biggest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms. Harwin didn’t know whether to be proud or terrified that his family owned the two largest dragons - except Vermithor - in the Seven Kingdoms.

Peace was quaint in the years following.

Lyonel Strong still remained as the King’s Hand, though, Otto Hightower still plotted his return. Quashed when Viserys died, and Rhaenyra swiftly ascended. “I wish to offer you the post as my Hand…” It was what the pair had always dreamed of.

“The Lords will not abide by that-“

“I am Queen, I am the Head of the Seven Kingdoms and they will follow my commands,” she paused at the apprehension written over Elspeth’s face.

The Princess shook her head, “Lord Lyonel has been a faithful Hand to your father- ,”

“How am I supposed to rule if I cannot fully rely on my Hand? In my absence how can I rely on the judgement of men to carry out my word?” The Queen held the Princess’ hands, “You are my closest friend- ever since you arrived in Kings Landing- before I was born. You have never shown deceit nor malice on my part- even my husband doesn’t have my complete favour… you do…”

“If I say yes will it stop your queenly speech?” Rhaenyra gave a nod. “Then yes, I will be your Hand…”

She was a bloody good one at that, Rhaenyra remained in Kings Landing as she always had.

Ric was a promising young heir to Harrenhal- knighted for his fighting in the second war for the Stepstones. He was a good sword, and betrothed to Rhaena Velaryon for his actions. They suited one another- calm and loyal.

Gwen, unruly like her mother, rode horses not dragons; fearing great heights. She found a love match in the Lord of the North, Cregan Stark. He loved her fighting spirit- unlike any Southerner he had met.

Lily rode the biggest dragon in the Known World. Her mother refused a marriage with the Lannisters- who called out for an alliance. Lily found affections with the young Lord Oscar Tully. They had proven to be a youthful yet wise Lord and Lady of Riverrun.

Jaimes found himself separated from his twin, Ronin but Jaime was living his dream under the wing of his uncle Gwayne. Travelling the Seven Kingdoms at the age of six-and-ten, yet to find himself a wife but with his father’s looks and mother’s drive- it’s more so the fact that he isn’t looking.

Ronin had claimed the Bronze Fury at two-and-ten, and has since built a loving bond with Vermithor. He found himself with a crowd of women gawking, his mother’s angelic features and his father’s demeanour. Yet he only had eyes for the brash Alysanne Blackwood, admiring the huntress and sharing liaisons while at Harrenhal. Elspeth warned him to ask for her hand before somebody else demanded it- and he feared no person as much as he feared and loved his mother.

Cullen favoured the pen rather than the sword, becoming a scholar. He toured around the libraries, transcribing every ounce of knowledge he garnered. This took him to the Free Cities- where he encountered a young maiden. Her name was Aliandra, she loved his inquisitive nature and he her fiery attitude. It was only when he ventured to her homeland that he discovered her to be Princess Aliandra Martell, and he was to be her Prince Consort. It aided in relations between the Seventh Kingdom.

Lyonei continued her education in alchemy and prophecy. Still close friends with Princess Helaena, though, at Harrenhal she found the company of Alys Rivers- rumoured to be her aunt- and judiciously followed her expertise. For that time being she had no room for love, neither did her parents force her.

Mia resided at Driftmark, Maesters said she had problems with the heart. But she enjoyed life with her head in books. Rhaenys was more than willing to house the gentle-spoken, petite girl even in her adulthood. She found the sea air aided in her ailments, finding love in a sailor.

Their parents moved to Harrenhal when Ser Lyonel died. Larys lurked in the shadows, not any danger.

The Kingdoms lived in peace. But the pair weren’t alive when the power struggles took place- resulted to ash and bone.

Dying in bed together- both of old bones. Knowing what eternal love felt like, reuniting with Alyrie Florent and those lost along the years.

History would remember the fierceness of Elspeth Hightower- true Targaryen born - married a strong. An issue of seven, rider of Ebrion the Cannibal and the best shot in the Seven Kingdoms.

THE END

___________________________

So this is the last part of the series. I have loved writing this and thank you for the support with it. Thank you to everybody reading ❤️❤️❤️

Series taglist:-

@llynx7 @babyred7 @felicisimor @beebeechaos

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Fixing Ep. I of House of the Dragon.

Timeline

First we should establish a timeline, which is something the show hasn't really done. Given that they insist in having Rhaenyra and Alicent be friends there are ways to do that. Swap Daella's birth with Vaegon's and have Aemma born a year earlier. Have Rhaenyra be Aemma's first pregnancy instead of the third. That ages her up a bit, making her be born in the year 94 a.C

Have Alicent be a little older than Rhaenyra. Alicent could have been born in 92 a.C and their friendship would stay the same.

Aemma's death should be in 107 .C making Rhaenyra thirteen years old in the first episode and Alicent fifteen.

Laena could be the same age as Alicent and Laenor the same as Rhaenyra, keeping with their book's ages.

Establish the year of the episode. This being put the number at the beginning in the screen.

Scenes

During the Council of 101 the narrator could say "Tragedy claimed both his sons. The choice now was between Rhaenys, the only child of his eldest son and Viserys the eldest child of his second son". And the general audience would understand it perfectly.

During the ride in carriage back to the Keep they could have the smallfolk calling for Rhaenyra and her waving at them and smiling. That way we establish the "Realm's Delight".

Have Aemma mention Rhaenyra's age in their little scene. "You are three and ten, nearly a woman grown" it would fit perfectly.

The next scenes are just fine if the story is done right.

Daemon and Rhaenyra. In the throne room scene they should have more dialogue of the like of. "What have you brought me this time?" This way we establish that Rhaenyra is spoilt by Daemon and her parents.

Viserys and Aemma's scene are just fine if the rest of the show follows this logic. They could mention their relation, however. "Our grandmother had thirteen children, but I don't have her luck". This establishes that Aemma is part of House Targaryen by more than marriage .

Have Rhaenyra and Alicent talk about doing charity during their studying scene, establishing why the smallfolk likes them.

During the small council scene with Daemon Otto could ask him how he knows who was guilty and he could say he has a good relationship with the smallfolk. While I believe in "show, don't tell" this particular thing could show that he spends time with the smallfolk and that they like him.

The Mysaria and Daemon scene could have been pillowtalk. There was no need for a sex scene, but they could show us the after. Have Daemon show his resentment to his brother "I am the reason he wears a crown yet he still has me married to my Bronze Bitch". Doing this we don't only inform the viewers that Daemon is married, but we also establish that Mysaria is important for him and that he trusts her.

Nothing particularly wrong with the tournament scene, just should be less gory because it doesn't make much sense.

During the tournament we could have Rhaenys and Corlys talking like in the show but different. Saying something like "Viserys inheritated our grandparents years of peace and I hope our children do as well" that way we show she is a Targaryen and that she is married to Corlys and have children.

Cole and Daemon's scene is fine.

Aemma's death in itself is also not incoherent, but the show is so if the show wasn't it would be fine.

The funeral scene is fine.

In Alicent's and Otto's scene they could mention Otto's hate for Daemon and the fact that Alicent at fifteen is a woman of age to marry. Something like "You are five and ten, you can't stay a lady-in-waiting for the princess forever"

The "heir for a day" is fine.

During the Daemon and Viserys confrontation we could have again Daemon lashing out against him saying how he helped him. Something like "I am the reason you have that throne! Corlys was preparing his ships to fight for Rhaenys so I raised an army for you! And now you won't even give me an announcement for a marriage our grandmother forced me into!"

The rest of the scenes are fine

Other things

Rhaenys's hair should have been dark, with the quote I mentioned is enough to make the general audience realize she is a Targaryen.

Rhaenyra should have worn more jewellery and more lavender and violet colours.

See HBO? is not that hard!

[your-yandere-bestfriend]

　　　　　ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.Wet dreams.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Todoroki Shoto

Based off the song Wet Dreamz by J. Cole.

(Guys do I drop this after a 2 year hiatus or no )

。。。 Though it was the second day of school already, there had already been talk of a new student—most likely gossip overheard from the U.A. staff. Typically a new student wasn’t of much appeal, this was a huge school after all, even though it was prestigious, but what made the U.A. students so chatty about this new student was the fact that she was a foreigner. There had only even been three American students in the long history of U.A. high school, so getting a transfer was not only impressive, due to the fact that she wasn’t required to participate in the entrance exams, and also exciting.

The bell chimed for second blocks end, and next for the students of class 3.A., was the drowse inducing subject. Math. The teachers filtered out in order to teach their proper subject, after all just because this was a hero school didn’t mean that they were excused from engaging in normal, more uneventful subjects. Todoroki sat with perfect posture in the back of the room, awaiting the teachers entrance. His ears perked up when he heard Midoriya speak of the new girl who might’ve been making her first entrance today, though he didn’t quite care for a new student, it honestly had nothing to do with him, he hadn’t found a need for more friends, Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, and Floppy felt plentiful.

The door slid open, the chattering of the class going still. In walked Cemento, but it wasn’t just him, it was also the new girl, and now that he has seen her with his own eyes, he could understand what the excitement was for. She had mesmerizing, smooth skin, she was delicate looking, with the such pretty eyes, they put his heterochromia ones to shame. Along with her pretty eyes and gorgeous figure her hair was long, around 30 inches, and red just like his left side, Todoroki couldn’t care less if it was real or not. He was sure his mouth was keenly open, but he knew he wasn’t alone, even the girls in the class were shocked at her appearance.

Cemento guided her to the front of the large classroom, in front of the expensive smart board that wasn’t yet displaying geometry problems, thankfully.

Cemento was preparing to give her the go ahead to start speaking but she already took that initiative for herself.

“Hi everyone it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you all! I’m … and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you,” she beamed.

Sure she was already beautiful but todoroki could feel fire coming out his right side when she smiled revealing a straight line of pretty, white teeth. His multicolored eyes glanced around his classroom, and even the notorious Bakugou was in awe, a sight he has never yet seen.

“It is an absolute honor to have you here … ! Your Japanese is impressive!” Iida stood up moving his arm in the odd robotic like motions, but todoroki doubted anyone missed the telltale pink blush flushed across his pale face.

… bowed in response, traditional Japanese etiquette that she had obviously studied along with the language.

His eyes followed her long legs as she walked to the only empty seat in the room. Right next to him.

[nori-writes]

Ramblings

Cole Cassidy x Reader

Hanzo Shimada x Reader

Summary: Reader rambling on about an interest of theirs while they realise that their lover hasn’t responded to them in a minute to stop and find them in awe at how adorable their rambling was.

W/C: 350+

A/N: This is completely self indulgent. I was in class with nothing to do and I thought about this and wrote it so here we are, enjoy <3

Cassidy

Cole’s a talkative guy who loves to go on and on about things himself so when he gets to see you do it as well his heart swells at the sight.

He’s so glad that there’s something that you find this much passion in and that you’re comfortable enough to ramble on to him about all these things.

While you’re normally going on about these things though he’ll usually reply to some of the things you say instead of purely listening to let you know that he’s still there.

When you realise he’s stopped replying you turn to look over at him, worried that you might have bore him

Nope.

He has his head propped up by his hand on the table and he’s smiling that same warm, endearing smile that you had fallen in love with all that while ago.

“Gonna keep goin’ sweetheart?”

It wasn’t really a question, more of an encouragement.

Of course you obliged.

Hanzo

Listening to you is a normal thing for him, though that doesn’t mean that he enjoys it any less.

It’s something that he relishes, like Cassidy he loves to see that there's something you’re passionate enough about to open up like this to him.

He definitely asks himself what he did to deserve you.

He’ll just sit while doing something like cleaning his bow.

You are his favourite thing to listen to especially while doing menial tasks.

He’ll occasionally let out hums of acknowledgement to let you know that he’s still listening to you.

Sometimes he’ll put down what he’s doing just to get a good look at you.

He loves seeing the way your eyes seem to have this sparkle while talking about your interests.

Soon a small smile will develop onto his face while he admires you.

You realise how awfully quiet he had been when you stop to check on him and you’re met with him looking lovingly at you with the smallest but most loving of smiles on his face.

“Why’d you stop?”

You shook your head at his question with a grin on your face before returning to the topic you were talking about.

I literally love them. Anyway, if you enjoyed my master list is here 💜