#like have you SEEN the women of the night court

[valkyrjah]

gwyn sure does love ✨women✨

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

-

[sadesluvr]

Exposure

You can’t shake the feelings you have for Friedrich Harding, your father’s business partner.

It all started when Friedrich Harding had walked through the door. 

It was an autumn night, not dissimilar to the others. You were sat on the lush upholstery of your parlour, in your designated spot amongst the grand piano and ornaments that decorated the walls and floors, lost in thought as you flew a needle and thread between fabric. It was one of the moments where your house lay quiet, practically coming to a standstill since the death of your mother.  

The house had been an empty nest for a while. You were the youngest, the sole daughter of a wealthy ship merchant who’d had three sons prior. They’d all since grown; moved into estates and had families of their own, whilst you, still in your early twenties, were left at home waiting to be courted. Well, that was most of your life anyway. 

Naturally, your family had been extremely protective, and naturally that meant you were lonely. Days whilst your father worked was spent wandering the halls of your home, making idle conversation with Berta, the maid, or occasionally going for a walk amongst the shore or a local garden.

Nights were more sociable, but only so as the man would parade his colleagues into the dining room, but not before showing you off. You always earned a compliment or a kiss on the back of a hand, but it made you feel like a porcelain doll in a shop window. Enticing to look at, but not truly loved. 

Only you really knew how to love yourself. You found love in the works of Wilde and Hardy – though lately you’d turned to the dusty books at the back of the shelf, the ones where women were nothing but harlots and the men ravenous. Was it your fathers? Your mothers? Berta’s, even? Either way it didn’t matter; as nights were spent with your head in a book, curled up by a small lamp falling asleep to vivid, distant images. You weren’t like them. 

You hadn’t looked up when the door had opened, and two men had marched in, already laughing. In a sense, you’d learnt to zone out. 

“Darling, why don’t you come over and meet Herr Harding? His father used to come over for pool.” 

When he’d kissed the back of your hand, you thought you were sick. His eyes were a striking blue, with a strong, well-groomed moustache and sideburns, with his clothes tailored to match. You’d felt your heart drop to your stomach and your body suddenly run clammy. It was naive of you to think that he could've transferred some kind of illness so soon, but it was never impossible. You hadn’t a clue what went on at times. 

“The pleasure is mine. Your old man told me how stunning you were – I always knew he didn’t have it within him to lie.” 

He was whisked away with a glass of port in his hands, and that was as brief as the first interaction had gone. Until he’d been around the following night. Then the next. And thereafter. 

Friedrich wasn't like your fathers’ other business partners. He was younger, yes, but still significantly older than you. Though you made yourself scarce, you’d somehow catch his gaze from across the room or down the corridor, puffing mindlessly at the stick of smoke as his eyes subtly roved your body.

Conversations became longer, more frequent, and you found yourself making excuses for why you couldn’t stay – for every time there was a discomfort, an excitement that was overwhelming and peppered your skin with goosebumps.  

He made you sick, so much so that you’d stopped reading at night, finding your mind replaced with restlessness...the urge to be touched, satiated from your illness. You hoped it would go through eating more, prayer – anything that meant you wouldn’t have to see a doctor.

You’d heard things, horrible things.

The last time you’d seen one was when your mother died. 

One day, Friedrich, fresh off a new deal outside of his business with your father, had shown up at the door. Seeing that it was Berta’s duty to be useful, but ultimately inconspicuous, you made yourself as polite as possible, offering to show him the new artwork in the hallway by your bedroom. 

“I’m afraid you’re rather early. Father has not yet returned from work,” you sighed, teeth grazing your bottom lip as you spoke. “It’s poor practise, but I can call Berta to fix you a meal — “ 

“That won’t be necessary unless you intend in dining with me,” Friedrich nodded. “You must be hungry. It’s passed the hour.” 

“It’s unfortunate that I must turn you down. My appetite alludes me.” 

“Goodness…Are you ill?” He replied, raising a thick brow as he stepped towards you. 

“Must we talk about this here?” 

“There’s no one to witness the conversation, love,” he said, somewhat confused. “Though your secrecy worries me. Let us sit.” 

 You could hardly protest when he opened the door to your bedroom, his bright eyes scanning your features as he sought an answer.  

“I must. But I haven’t told anyone – I fear they may send me away if I were honest about the onset of my condition…” 

Friedrich paused, and with pursed lips took a deep breath. 

“I may only be your father’s business partner, but I can assure you that you have my upmost discretion, Madame,” he began, inching closer to you as he placed his hands gently on your arm, guiding you to sit on the edge of your bed. “Do speak to me.” 

The reality of your situation fell upon you as you fixated your gaze towards the ground, unable to avoid the pounding of your heart and the heavy rise and fall of your bust. You were alone with a man – one who was a protector, no doubt – alone in your room for the first time in your life, and you weren’t even married.

Essentially, a respected name made you no different to a common whore. Your mouth was putty, but you found it within you to speak. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep through the night,” you began, breath hitching in your throat. “I’ve felt faint, clammy. I can hardly focus on my embroidery.” 

Friedrich hummed. 

“When did you begin feeling this way?” 

You swallowed, wringing your fingers as you glanced up at through your lashes. 

“Months ago, when you first visited.” 

The man furrowed his brows, and shock rang throughout your body at his reaction.  

“Well, I can assure you that I haven’t brought some kind of illness. Perhaps it may have been the material of my clothes?” 

You shook your head. 

“I feel it’s something deeper, like a pull, almost. I have not felt this way for any man…I’m afraid that if I feel it for you, then I never will about future husband.” 

Something about the line caused him to perk up. 

“So, this sudden hysteria is about me?” 

Biting your lip, you fiddled with your necklace and slowly nodded, suddenly aware of how tight your corset felt. You were seemingly floating between life and death; as if you could drop dead at any moment yet still felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation – there was something in the horizon, seconds away from being tangible. 

Friedrich dropped his head, caressing your chin as the cool metal of his pinkie ring pressed against your warm skin, angling you to look at him. His hands were large, veiny and slightly calloused, but were the mark of a great man, as he was. The smell of tobacco and port lingered on his breath as he drew you close, his face atoms away from placing a kiss to your lips. 

“Do you want for me to make love to you, child? Caress your body and please you in the ways you’ve read about in your father’s books? Is that what you wish?” 

A lump bobbed in your throat. 

“Friedrich…I’m not yet a bride…” 

“If that’s something you’d like to wait for, I can make it happen, my love,” he began, words clear, yet not forceful. “But you should know that I cannot resist you. My old man raised me otherwise, but I won’t deny my desire to bed you as you are. I simply cannot wait until we are wed.” 

“You’d marry me?” 

“I’d do a lot more than that, darling.” 

It was natural for you not to protest once Friedrich laid his lips upon your own, hands dropping to your waist as you danced your fingers along his sideburns. His smoky musk consumed you, quite literally leaving you breathless as you whined against his body, desperate to rip yourself from your corset and allow him to consume you. 

His lips moved in tandem with your own, occasionally making a wet noise amongst the sound of his own laboured breaths. Pulling away, you were met with air for only a short few moments before Friedrich laid you back onto the bed, body straddling your own as he peeled off his layers; not totally nude, but enough for him to move around.  

You paid no attention to the slight ache in your back as you wriggled against the bedding, for the man’s lips were now attached to the nape of your neck, kissing and sucking your collarbone, as if he were trying to consume every inch of you. His moustache tickled your skin as his hands pawed at your dress, skilfully making their way up your undergarments.  

In another life, this moment would’ve come far more domestically, perhaps with you on your wedding night - but there was something far more devilish about being taken now, in your bedroom of your family home. You were almost certainly going to hell. 

“You’re quivering, love,” he said softly, watery blue eyes staring into your own. “You shouldn’t be scared of me.” 

You weren’t - well, not entirely – more scared about how your body was reacting; your heart and mind in overdrive as his fingertips made their way down your thighs, thumb ever so gently grazing your labia as it did.  

The bustle of your dress bothered you greatly, though Friedrich didn’t seem phased by it; intent on devouring you even through the layers of fabric, causing the material to flap about in a crude manner. In his passionate haste, the man unbuttoned his trousers and poked his manhood through his briefs before lining himself by your entrance. Breath hitched in your throat as you felt his warm, slightly sticky tip poke at your sensitive hole, knuckles brushing against your folds as he pushed into you without hesitation. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he did, earning a concerned glance from the man. 

“I’m sorry to hurt you, darling,” he breathed. “It’ll only be a minute. I want nothing more than to make you feel good, believe me.” 

With your teeth between your bottom lip you nodded, spreading your legs as wide as the dull ache in your thighs could let you as the moustached man began to buck his hips into you.

Whether it was because he was your first (and only), or the fact that his frequent likening to a horse had rung true - Friedrich had a suitable length and girth to truly fill you up, ceasing the emptiness that your ‘sickness’ had brought almost in an instant. 

“Herr...” you whispered, eyes squeezed shut. You desperately wanted to moan; to cry out even, but found yourself too worried that Berta would see your ecstasy as a cry of distress. “Herr Harding, I can’t --” 

“Hold onto me, love, and open your eyes,” he ordered, though the softness of his voice made it so it could barely be read as an order. “I want to see you.” 

You obeyed. 

A twinge of a smile formed on his lush pink lips as he kissed you again, this time desperate to bury his head between the tips of your cleavage.

His mind was blank and dumb as he rutted into you, a drabble of drool ever so obscurely dripping its way down your skin and leaving a wet patch on the neckline of your dress. Your chest looked delectable, pronounced and wobbling with every motion he made on top of you, that the thought of them rounded and swollen with the glow of pregnancy was enough to send him over the edge. 

He let out a deep groan, and with furrowed brows he angled your leg upwards to dagger into you, causing your dress to bunch around your waist.  

Clamping your hand over your mouth, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips as his cock stretched you, hitting you in places you hadn’t even known existed. It might’ve been your euphoria or sheer breathlessness, but you could certainly feel it in your stomach. 

“That’s it, darling,” he cooed. “Just hold on a little longer. By God, you’re so sweet, as if you were made for me...I cannot wait to wife you, my love, you must wish for me to bear you a child...” 

A child. 

A child. 

The world went white. Your parents had always spoke to you about the presence of the afterlife, a place where a divine being would take you into his arms and cleanse you of sin...but you’d never imagined it to be so soon, underneath the man your father had often referred to as a second son. 

Humorously, you only felt grounded once a sheer liquid dripped down your leg. Whether it was blood, his seed, or a mixture of both, you knew that you were forever impure, and naturally tied to him. 

Forever.  

[lazy4honey]

Unseelie Fae

Should be sleeping, looked at fae fucker, remembered an old idea I never got to use, just started writing, tried to do something short, obviously didn’t succeed…

Contains: second person perspective, gender neutral, fae, long, slow, teasing, dub-con, tentacles, fingering, anal, big 🍆, lots of 💦, slight belly bulge, NSFW towards the end

Note: both men and women have a glans and erectile tissue 👍

There are two courts of faeries, opposed to each other like day and night. One is known as the Seelie Court, mischievous but well meaning, while the other is the Unseelie Court, full of cunning pranks and tricks.

But regardless of their differences, they all love to play tricks on humans.

As such, you go to bed one night and fall asleep unusually quickly and dream.

You stand in a blooming meadow. The cerulean sky above you is dotted with white cotton clouds and the sun beams down onto the earth in a blinding manner, a mixture of the flowers’ fragrance and the slightly burnt smell of ozone typical for hot summer days filling your nose as the hot breeze brushes over your skin.

You look around and find a lone tree growing in the meadow. It looks old, knotted branches adorned by emerald leaves reaching towards the sky almost like a withered hand. There is a strange aura to this tree, but you still walk over to stand in its cool shade.

Then something magical happens.

A pale glimmer lights up on one of the lower branches and drops, leaving a glittering string as fine as spider silk hanging straight down. You watch with curiosity and awe as the string lights up and splits open into a gateway.

The next moment, before you can see what lies beyond, a figure steps through the gateway.

As soon as you lay your eyes on them, they have stolen your breath away.

They are tall and thin, clad in flowing black robes that seem to meld into the shadows, as if made from them. Their long, straight black hair blends in with the robe, and it forms a stark contrast with their morbidly pale skin. With elegant brows, eyes resembling black pearls, and light pink lips, there is an unsettling beauty to them that transcends all perceptions of gender you had before.

They look at you and you see what you believe to be a smile flash through their mesmerizing eyes.

Entranced, you watch them lift their arm and reach out to you. Their boney hand is just as pale as their face, and their black fingernails are long and pointed. For some reason, you think it resembles the tree.

With a turn of their wrist, a round, enticingly red apple appears in their hand. Just by looking at its rich color, you can already feel its mouthwatering taste in your mouth.

You don’t hesitate to grab the apple and take a bite out of it. It is crisp and juicy, just like you imagined, and the red of the peel bleeds into the white fruit flesh like blood staining snow.

The beautiful person in black smiles as they watch you eat their apple, and you happily smile back at them.

After eating the apple, they take your hand, their cold touch making you feel a strange anticipation as they lead you through the gateway. Time and space creak as they are twisted, and the next moment you stand on the meadow by night, the sleeping flower buds doused in silvern moonlight as the nearby hill breaks open and reveals the fae folk dancing to their bewitching music in a hall illuminated by firefly-like dots of light.

Enthralled, you step forward. You enter the hill and find yourself in the hall contained within you had just seen, surrounded by countless beings more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

You wander around the hall, dancing with a man with glittering dragonfly wings fly wings one moment and a woman with colorful butterfly wings the next. Then you are pushed onward and pass by the buffet, grabbing some candy-like nuts and berries that crunch satisfyingly between your teeth before arriving at the band’s little stage. After energetically beating the drum for the goat-horned man playing the pan flute for a few songs, you are tired and let yourself be carried along by the stream of fae, finally coming to a black throne.

Seated on that throne is the beautiful being that gave you their apple, and their eyes seem to twinkle as they look at you and once again reach out their hand.

It is empty, waiting for you to take it.

You do.

They gently pull and you fall onto their lap without any resistance, adoringly gazing up at them as you lean against their chest. Your eyes meet and sparks fly, eliciting excited cheers from the crowd of fae folk.

The beautiful being brushes a hand through your hair, admiring your blushing face. Then they lean down and kiss your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks and jaw, and finally coming to your lips. They pause and look you deep in the eyes, seeking your consent before ever so gently kissing you.

Their lips are cold, just like their hands, but not unpleasantly so. There is the faint fragrance of apples.

They hold your face and gradually deepen the kiss, making you close your eyes in enjoyment and miss the flash of deep red in their eyes. Your lips opens on their own and allow their tongue to intrude on your mouth. When their cold tongue grazes yours, you flinch back in surprise only to quickly engage with them. The feeling of their slippery tongue against yours is divine.

You clutch at their robes and rub your thighs against each other as heat pools in your abdomen and makes you long for something more.

There seems to be a distant sigh, followed by a rustle, and then darkness envelops you. The boos of the crowd come from far away, but the coolness of that beautiful being is still closely attached to you, their arms wrapping around you to hold your waist.

You open your eyes and only see a vague outline of them, but you don’t mind. Raising your arms to cling to their neck, you engage them in another long, deep kiss, aiming to warm their coldness with your overflowing warmth.

They chuckle and press you tightly against themselves, kiss turning a little shallower as they rub your back, down your spine and to your ass, making you relax in comfort.

Then you feel something on your ankle. It is just as cold as the beautiful being’s hands, yet there is a strange slickness to it. You wiggle your foot. When the sensation doesn’t go away, you try to retreat from the kiss to take a look, but they don’t give you that chance as they deepen the kiss again and sneak a cold hand beneath your shirt to caress your waist.

The strange sensation remains on your ankle, and as you forget about it, it starts moving again. It slides up your calf like a living rope, crawling beneath your pants and wrapping itself around your soft flesh. Then it strokes your knee.

Your legs tighten and you want to kick it away, but then another cold, slick thing wraps around your other foot, tickling your sole. You squirm and whine into the beautiful being’s mouth, hoping they will notice your plight and rescue you. But they just hold your waist more tightly, sliding a hand up to your warm chest as their head moves down to kiss your neck.

Free of any obstruction, you moan. The cold hands and lips on your warm skin make you feel so tingly, their every caress adding to the hotness in your abdomen. You can’t resist rubbing your crotch against their thigh as you get excited.

At this moment, the slick tentacle-like things move again. They wrap around your legs, gently squeezing your thighs, their coldness making you tremble, and unexpectedly cooperate with the beautiful being to lift you up and sit you down on their lap with your legs spread. Then another tentacle attaches itself to the small of your back and trails its thin tip up your spine and down again.

With your hands not restrained, you twist to grab the annoying thing. The beautiful being beneath you suddenly releases a low moan. Unconsciously you tighten your grip, and they hum, the three cold, slick tentacles pulsing faintly.

Finally, you truly realize that the beautiful being is a fae.

A fae with tentacles.

An unknown kind of excitement takes hold of you and makes your heart beat like a drum. You swallow a mouthful of saliva and tug at the tentacle, pulling it before you.

The beautiful fae watches you in the darkness they created. Their hand tightens on your chest as you kiss the tip of the tentacle, their breath heating up when you take it into your hot, wet mouth. You gently suck on the tentacle and feel it pulse as they gasp, then gently bite it before removing it from your mouth and kissing along its length.

Meanwhile, the tentacles wrapped around your legs tighten and loosen together with the fae’s hands on your torso. They nuzzle their face against your neck and the tentacles around your legs start moving again, caressing your inner thighs and crawling forward, one making contact with your crotch. The tentacle presses a little and feels you tense. Then it slowly grinds against you, the cold, slick sensation seeping through your underpants as it fondles your arousal.

The fae feels your strong heartbeat and kisses your neck, their hand massaging your chest and making you accidentally bit the tentacle you are still holding a little harder when they pinch your nipple. They moan and the tentacle by your mouth is replaced with their lips as they plunder your mouth. The tentacle dripping with saliva strokes your shoulder and down into your shirt to your chest, the thin cold tip wrapping around your other nipple to pull and rub.

You pant at the many ministrations, aroused and wanting for more after being teased like this.

As if sensing your impatience, the tentacles on your legs start moving again. They both wriggle into your underpants, one reaching your front while the other curls around your ass cheek. The one in the front snakes along your crotch and to your eagerly throbbing genitalia. It carefully feels around and slowly pulls back your skin to reveal your glans and wet slit, rubbing against it at an agonizingly slow pace.

As you are kissed and caressed by hands and tentacles, you rock your hips against the fae for a little more friction. You want more, you hope for a deeper connection, one that steals your breath and echoes endlessly through your body.

The tentacle on your ass moves. It dives into the gap between your buttocks and kisses your small hole, making your butt clench around it. Its thin tip circles around the delicate, puckered skin and prods your hole again, even sinking a little inside.

You whine against the fae’s lips and they stroke your cheek. Then they reach down to your crotch, feeling the wetness at their fingertips, and rub your glans and slit along with the tentacle. Their hand is so cold and soft it makes you feel your pulse in your gut.

After rubbing for a while, sometimes stronger, sometimes lighter, coating their fingertips in your slowly dripping sticky liquids, they reach further and join the tentacle at your backside in prodding at your asshole. Thanks to your wetness, they are able to slide in a little more than the tentacle. Their sharp fingernail hurts a little but their other touches feel so good, and before you know it they are already one digit deep inside you.

They bite your lip as they patiently sink their entire index finger into your hole, then kiss down your jaw, neck, and chest. At your heart side, they bite your nipple, cold breath instantly making it harden, then lick. You clench around their fingertips with a moan and some more liquid drips from your slit onto the rubbing tentacle, making its movements smoother.

The fae gives your nipple a suck and pull their finger put, once again fingering your slit. You feel a little relieved yet empty, but before the feeling can settle in they return their fingers to your tight hole, carefully pressing two fingers inside your tight anus.

You moan in pain and sink your hands into the fae’s hair, gripping it tightly.

They give your chest a little bite and another tentacle joins the three. It is a little slicker than the others and the tip drips with a cold slime that makes you shiver. This tentacle sprinkles its slime across your body, mixing it with some of your own sticky liquids at your slit, and then joins the fae’s fingers as they gently press inside you. You can feel this tentacle squirm in your rectum and it seems to be pumping its cold slime into you. It coats the fae’s fingers, resulting in a quiet squelching sound as they curl against your hot flesh.

The slime drips down their hand and your ass as they continue moving, wriggling every now and then and pumping in and out in alternating tempo.

Then they add a third finger.

You feel a little full.

The dripping tentacle continuously pumps its slime into you and the squelching sound becomes louder as the sticky substance accumulates in your rear. Gradually, the fingers and slime heat up and your asshole feels a little numb and pleasantly tingly. You take the three fingers very well, earning yourself more kisses and caresses from the fae.

That beautiful fae, fucking you with their long cold fingers and slimy tentacles, could there be anything more arousing?

When they suddenly pull out their fingers, you whine and tug at their hair.

The slime dripping out of your widened hole, pulled even wider open by the fae’s tight grip on your ass cheeks, flows down the tentacle still peaking inside you, slicking it up. Then it begins to move.

The tentacle is about as thick as the fae’s three fingers, but it reaches deeper inside you and lacks the dangerous fingernails. When it enters you a little deeper, you feel it squirm again as it pumps you with its sticky slime once more, making your hole flutter, and then it retreats.

Afterwards, the other tentacles that had been toying with your body also retreat.

You unhappily wriggle your hips and pout. That couldn’t have been it, right? They couldn’t just leave you hanging like that, right?

Of course they don’t.

Your shirt is gently peeled off by their fingers, one hand cold and one warm and slick with the tentacle’s slime and your liquids. Then they slip their hands into your waistband, tapping your hips and looking at you.

Although they don’t say anything, you understand the look in their pitch black eyes. You hold onto their shoulders and raise yourself up, letting them take off your pants and underwear.

They admiringly stroke your bare skin. Your legs and your arms, your chest aching from the fondling, your waist, hips and ass, and finally your crotch — their cool touch is everywhere.

Then they press you against their chest and squeeze your ass.

The next moment, a thick, slimy tentacle with a phallic tip pressed against your asshole. Your muscles tensed and the hole tightened against the unexpectedly cold thing. It poked a little, then slid forward to rub against your leaking slit, gently pressing and pulling for a while and making you moan before returning to your backside.

The fae captured your lips and in that second of distraction, the tentacle pushed inside your anus and stretched the folds out of the puckered hole with its girth. With the hot slime and the phallic tentacle covered in cold slick completely filling your rectum, you felt almost unbearably full, but it didn’t hurt. When the tentacle started moving and the friction started heating the slippery liquids, the wonderful tingling sensation came back full force and traveled from your rear to your front, making you drip onto the fae’s robes.

They let their hand slide back down to your dripping holes and lightly pressed and rubbed your glans before fingering your slit that had become sensitive from all that stimulation as the tentacle in your ass sped up its movements, thrusting deeper inside you and stretching you further than before each time.

You moaned into their mouth. In your quest for more pleasure you rocked your hips with their thrusts, pushing your soaking slit into their cool hand one moment to seek relieve for your swollen erectile tissue and shoving your ass backwards onto their phallic tentacle to feel it pound deep into you the next.

Your enthusiasm please the fae. It pleased them even more when your ass clenched around their phallic tentacle, and you could the thing pulse in your ass and speed up. You relaxed, and then abruptly clenched again around them, eliciting a melodious moan from them as the tentacle pulsed.

Constantly stimulating each other in this was, the two of you sped up. As your climax neared, your movements grew a little sloppy. Chasing that obscure feeling, you shoved the tentacle even deeper into your soft insides, and then the fae came with an ecstatic moan.

Their phallic tentacle didn’t stop pulsing as a searing hot liquid was shot into your guts. The feel of your gut being filled and even bulging from their cum made you moan loudly, and so you, too, reached your climax. Your ass clenched more tightly than ever around the tentacle and squeezed it as you came and trembled, making you clearly feel every pulse and every new shot of cum.

After an unknown amount of time, you came back to your senses. Leaning against the fae and hugging their thin waist, your ass still stuffed with their phallic tentacle and dripping with cum and slime, you felt your body still echoing with the euphoric release you just experienced.

The fae hugged you and pressed a tender kiss to your sweaty temple.

Surrounded by the faint scent of apples, you relaxed against them and sleepily closed your eyes. As you drifted off, you heard them, the vibrations of their cold, resonant voice clearly transmitted into your chest as they whispered.

“Finally.”

[simpingland]

Heyy beauty!

Can i request a Harwin break my back Strong x wife Targaryen reader fic where he beats the shit out of someone who disrespects her. He gets out of it with no consequences, reader looks after him & it ends in smut💋

(I'd appreciate it if u could do more Harwin fics cause lord knows I'm thirsty for it😭)

How to fix an aching nose.// Ser Harwin Strong x Targ!Wife!Reader. Smut.

Summary: Harwin cant believe his luck, married to a targaryan princess, being completely in love with her, her being madly in love with him...Not many believe his luck neither. Only his wife can prove him that its all real.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), a Lannister being punch.

Harwin was more than anxious to have you, his dearest wife, alone for more than the few moments you were allowed, to what extent could he reminisce about your wedding night? His mind was elsewhere during the hunt, listening only to his father's instructions, and ignoring the lords. Ever since he married you, he had felt the looks they gave him, full of envy of course. Few dared little more than stare, the stupidest could dare to vocalise it. And Lord Tyland Lannister was one of those fools.

"I see you are distracted, Ser Harwin," said the Lord with a mocking laugh as he watched the stag slip away from him at close range. "Marriage...always has the same effect on men."

He chuckled, a few laughed with him, but most gave him a dirty look, and Harwin set his spear aside.

"What effect do you mean, Ser Tyland?" he asked dryly.

"Well, the effect of women. They are a constant headache."

"I don't think you should speak so of wives when you haven't managed to marry a single woman since you've been at court, my lord." He wanted to leave it at that, but Tyland had taken offense.

"When one wields so much fortune, choosing a wife to entrust to him is a different task. I suppose you don't know what I'm talking about now, Ser Harwin."

Harwin walked toward him, towering over him. It clearly frightened him.

"I don't need to brag about money to show my wealth. And that I think if you are able to understand."

Tyland was silent for a second. Everyone had turned to watch the scene, except your father, the King, who was too sore to pay attention. None of them listened as your father asked for your presence to escort him to his tent without making a fuss. So Harwin turned to continue the hunt without being aware that his own wife was walking towards the scene. Neither was Lord Lannister.

"You certainly took a treasure for the little price you must have paid...you took a very possible wife from me." Tyland was whispering it to Harwin now, purposely irritating him. "Though...perhaps you did me a favor. A princess who chooses someone like you should not be driven by anything but lust and madness. Maybe your wife is a lot cheaper than we all thought."

Then Harwin exploded. With the first fist he knocked out two of Tyland's molars, and with the second he buried him in the mud. None of Ser Lyonel's orders were heard as he tore Tyland apart, only the insults towards you, raging. They tried to pull him away, but he was still there. And there you found him.

"HARWIN!" You shouted, running towards him. It took him a while to notice you, he looked at you, a little frightened that you had seen him be so savage.

"He insulted you" he said quietly, then looked at Tyland "YOU INSULTED THE PRINCESS!"

And he gave him one last kick before he was pushed away by the guards. He had to be pushed away until he was led out of the hunt, and he only looked at you, begging your forgiveness for the disturbance. Your father was disoriented, and only understood what was happening from the words of one of the guards. And you had to wait to get your father to his bed before you met Harwin.

"What happened?" you asked as you entered your tent. Harwin was waiting for you, on his back and standing. When he turned around you saw his nose was bleeding. You ran to wipe it. "Gods! Did Tyland do that to you?"

"He wishes it was him, my love...it was one of the guards."

"I suppose it's because you've hit him first, isn't it?"

He smiled, because he knew you as well as you knew him. And he watched your concern disappear with every second, seeing your smile again.

"I'm not going to let anyone walk all over me. Not me, not you," he said, kissing your neck as he hugged you, lifting you off the ground and pressing you against his chest.

"Oh, Harwin, and why do you say that?"

You wiped the blood from him as he told you the story. It was starting to bruise a little, but had stopped bleeding after he put a cold cloth on it, holding it patiently and letting it play with the ties of your dress.

"I don't want you to think I'm just a... a beast too. I hold my anger a lot more than you think. Only you make me feel at peace, wife." He ran his hand through your hair.

It certainly hadn't been easy to convince your father. The Strongs were beloved at court, but Harrenhal was not a place of good repute, and marrying the King's second daughter to a notorious brute like Harwin "Breakbones" Strong had caused much controversy. You succeeded after years of hiding in the corridors, and every night Harwin could only draw on his imagination to do more than kiss you, for he had always put your reputation and honour before his desires.

You had only been married a short time, but it had been a season since you two had spent time alone. Your elder sister Rhaenyra was keeping you by her side at night, uncomfortable with her first pregnancy, and in the mornings, Harwin was too busy catching up on his duties as heir to Harrenhal.

Still, it didn't take away a single ounce of excitement, you craved each other throughout the day, and Harwin always managed to pull you aside to talk or kiss you. Either was enough for him, but he really wanted you back in his bed.

"You don't look like a beast to me." You put your hands on his neck, sat on his lap, you could feel his bulge on your leg. "And even if you had looked like one, you forget I've never been the person who holds his reputation in the highest regard, remember?"

They smiled, Harwin remembered in fact, more than once he had had to push you out of his sight because you had guided his hand where maidens should not be touched, all before you were married. You kissed him first, and when he was training you watched him from your window, catching his eye and "accidentally" showing your breasts. In the dark of night he had to pick you up off the floor because you had knelt before him. And in between all those moments Harwin couldn't help but be captivated by you, begging the King for your hand.

"I remember everything. You are far more beastly than I, my wife..." His member began to grow as he remembered, your scent right there, he captured your lips.

"You have offended me," you faltered, pulling away from the kiss. "Show me who the beast is here, Ser Breakbones."

One swift movement and he unfastened the bodice of your dress, freeing your breasts, and brought one to his lips. And as it sank to your chest you giggled at his eagerness, enjoying the tingle that formed on your legs as you felt Harwin's saliva run over your tits.

"Do you find this amusing, my princess? Having me sit here?" He ran his hands under your skirt, stroking your pearl as if by accident, but you knew he wasn't, that he was doing it to ravish you.

"I do find it a bit funny, I'm afraid..."

He stilled your laughter by throwing you onto the bed they had set up for you. Remarkably smaller than the one in your room back in the Keep, but Harwin didn't plan to use it much. He removed what was left of your dress, leaving you now completely naked. Your body being a spectacle for him.

"Well I'm no clown, of the many tricks they know how to do, I doubt very much they know how to do this."

He rested one hand on the bed, circling you on top of you, and the other he used to turn you, your back, your ass facing the outside. He caressed your back, stroke both cheeck of your ass and finally touching your cunt. One finger entered first, stirring your discharge with your clitoris and eliciting a soft moan from you. He watched you watching him, mouth half open. He was so handsome, with his smooth coat but rugged features, Harwin was all man. He inserted a second finger, and the third was not long in coming. Then he began to shake his hand rapidly, lifting your entire pelvis to his rhythm. You couldn't help but cry out as you felt such continuous pleasure.

"No..." whispered Harwin, pulling his face closer to yours, "no one knows how to do this to you like I do..."

Pleasure engulfed you, and Harwin could see you come to orgasm, you moaned millimetres from his lips, which he felt as if it was feeding him. He let you rest, and before he could lick his fingers with your arousal, you took his hand to lick them for him. If he was already excited before, Harwin had to hold back a moan when he felt the friction of his own pants squeezing his erection.

"Now let me reward you, my Lord, for defending my honour..." you removed his shirt, and kissed his big abs. But you made him suffer as you reached for his trousers, unbuttoning them bit by bit, not until you had removed them completely did you focus on his member.

Fat and in proportion to your husband, his cock needed two hands to massage it well. First you gave him a little kiss on the tip, as if in greeting, and looked up at Harwin, who seemed impatient but loved your gaze as you knelt before him. You were beautiful from every angle, and your eyes sharpened from that perspective. He pushed your silver hair aside as an excuse to touch it, and he never pushed your head, you always managed to make him enjoy at your own pace. You licked the tip for a while, but before he could cum, you took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could, knowing which way to guide it so you wouldn't gag. You sucked slowly but intensely, using your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. You were just about to make him cum when Harwin decided to take the reins again.

He caught you by surprise when he pulled away from you to pick you up off the floor, placing you in his arms as he did when he rescued you from troubles you usually got yourself into. One arm around your back and the other around your legs, your hands resting on his shoulders and with the opportunity to kiss him right there. Indeed, you didn't need the bed very much. You didn't quite understand what Harwin was up to, but when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, your hair stood on end. He was moving slowly up and down you, preparing to bury himself all the way in.

"I am convinced that there is no better pussy than yours in all of Westeros, Princess..." his voice was husky, his scent captivated you, and he kissed you tenderly when he wasn't kissing you with tongue.

"So what are you waiting for to enjoy it?"

He lured you to his lips to distract you, but you finally felt him enter. Gently, but creating that special fraction you'd longed for for years before you were married. Harwin broke the kiss to moan, of course this was his favourite part of fucking. He didn't usually do it fast, he liked to pace himself, and for such a big, rough man, he liked to sink into your pussy delicately, whether it was his instinct to protect you, or his instinct to enjoy it. His hips set the pace, as he raised them, his arms lowered, and you felt his full length fill you. He began to speed up the rhythm, he had plenty of strength left, and when he increased you could hear him enjoying himself, making you enjoy yourself.

"I'm going to cum...I'm going to cum..." he announced.

Then he laid you back down on the bed. You had no plans to have children yet, so you liked to experiment a little. Harwin positioned your legs apart, and took out his cock to rub it against your clit, fucking your vaginal lips and causing you unparalleled pleasure. You had your second orgasm seconds before you felt Harwin's semen spilling out of your pelvis, with a sweet moan leaving your husbands lips.

He rested his forehead on yours, and you kissed his aching nose.

"Wow...you sure made me feel better, wife." He moved to your side, pulling a blanket over you both, cuddeling you in his arms.

"Yeah...I've missed you too."

"I meant the kiss on the nose...but the rest was good too."

You laughed before threatening to make it bleed again. Harwin was willing to take a million punches as long as his princess was there to kiss his wounds afterwards.

[solbaby7]

If ur still taking requests can i ask for azriel x reader. Where reader and Az are newish friends. One day Elain asks reader for help on how to please a man (I imagine elain always on her back 🤷‍♀️). Reader asks elain if its to show Az and elain just blushes sweetly saying "maybe". Reader being a girls girl shows elain how to be ontop and how to do other favors like if they were besties. ( idk if uve seen game of thrones but a girl shows khalessi how to ride khal drogo. The girl straight up straddles her with clothes on of course, And shows her. I have it in my head that while reader straddles elain Az walks in and is like 😮😮). Readers a bit jealous cuz she has a mini crush on azriel but doesnt show it. She sees elain with some hickies and what not and she decides she cant be around Az anymore (hurts too much blah idk lol). Az is like wtf! Turns out that Elain was asking for sexy help for lucien!!! Doesnt have to be detailed smutty at all, whatever ur comfortable with is cool with me. Oh btw i so so loved that possessive toxic azriel fic u posted the other day. 🫠🫠🫠 🥵🥵🥵

I love love love love love this idea! So happy you requested it🤍💗

—

Teach Me

azriel x reader

[ part 2 ]

“Well—can you help me with that?” A furious blush fans across Elain’s cheeks, eyes wide and hands fumbling at her sides. Dainty fingers dig into the intricate lace detailing of her dress, nails raking over the pattern in attempts to calm the racing of her heart.

“You want to know how to please a male,” You repeat gently, slightly shocked after she’d timidly slipped into your bedroom with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms. It took Elain ten whole minutes to reign in her rambling until she’d finally blurted it out. “Anyone in particular?” She doesn’t meet your eye, shifting her weight from foot to foot and your stomach rolls at the turn your mind takes. Elain had been spending a lot of time around Azriel; afternoons spent tending to the garden and evenings were blocked off to trail behind as she baked some new sweet treat. “Az, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Elain mutters softly, subtly taking in the contents of your room. The pictures propped against your side table and the endless jars and creams stacked neatly on your vanity. “Can you please teach me?”

Pushing side your curiosity, you offer an encouraging smile, patting at the spot beside you on the bed. “Come here.” The first step is hesitant and so is the one that follows but Elain still finds herself following the gentle command and complying even further when you urge her to lie back. You can feel her thighs shake when you swing a leg over to straddle them but the trembling subsides when you adjust her hair and straighten out her dress. “Sex is like a dance.”

Immediately, she’s hooked, hanging onto every word as if you were the Mother herself coming down for a personal visit. Briefly, Elain’s gaze flicks to the door, shoulders relaxing when noting its shut and locked; curtains drawn and the fireplace crackled with life. The smell of you is everywhere. Something light yet memorable, soft and elegant, classic and slightly sweet—soothing in every way. “A dance?”

“It starts off slow,” You begin, a sliver of your abdomen exposed in your Night Court attire. A breathable onyx top that seemed to wrap around your chest like a bandage, blending into a lighter material that was slightly see-through. “Lingering glances from across the room, the heat of feeling his eyes watching you long after you’ve looked away.” Her confusion is palpable in her furrowed brows and slight pout. “Love always begins in the eyes—I’ve heard of women who’ve finished males with nothing more than their gaze alone.”

“Finished?” Your brow raises, a teasing smirk accompanying it and the implication alone has Elain’s cheeks rosy once more. “Oh, gods. I don’t think I’m capable of anything like that.”

Your fingers trace along the length of her bare arms, holding her hands and guiding them to the sides of her head as you hover, voice low. “You are a woman. You’re capable of anything.”

Elain swallows thickly, taking in the words as if it were the first time she truly wanted to believe them. “What if he doesn’t like it? Like me or the fact that I’m not very experienced.”

“They don’t care about if you have experience or not. They simply desire what they’ve never had.” She hangs onto every word, analyzing the way you guide her through the motions of what she’d do. Talking her through the scenarios on how she’d touch; when to kiss and gently tug at hair. Eventually the blushing becomes less frequent, Elain’s eyes fluttering closed as she visualized it, working through the new feelings that brewed at the thought of being able to use such teachings.

“And they like that? Us on top?”

“If you like it then they’ll love it.” You rest her hands at your waist, demonstrating the sensual rocking of hips going back and forth. “Fae males are not like the human men you were accustomed to—all sweet and gentle. Fae’s fuck. They take control,” You’re still above her, watching as her thoughts race a mile a minute, thick lashes fluttering before she moves in a flurry. Quickly the position is changed and while it’s a little sloppy, Elain was obviously paying attention as she hooks her leg over your thighs the same way you had hers. “Good job—exactly like that.”

She lets out a laugh, seemingly surprised in her own actions but the thrill of it all is evident across ethereal features. “My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

“Breathe through it and always remember that no matter how highly you think of him in your mind, no matter how highly others think of him—in that room, he belongs to you. There for you to do as you please and if you’re ever uncomfortable you can always say no. You can always stop no matter how far you’ve gotten.”

Elain nods in understanding, dainty fingers barely gripping at your wrists. “Thank you for this. I don’t know what I’d do if—just, thank you.”

She lingers a tad longer, following every instruction you give and just as you’re about to correct her, your door creaks open. A familiar voice calls out your name, shadows slinking across the wallpaper but they freeze once they take you in—sprawled out against the bed with Elain straddling you, hands pinned by your head.

“We were just—“ Elain scrambles off of you, cheek and chest a furious red as her mouth opens and closes; unable to come up with a reasonable explanation before she’s sliding past Azriel and rushing down the hallway.

“Most people knock.”

But Az wasn’t most people. You’d been friends for years and long since had he forgone the formality of knocking before entering. He hasn’t moved an inch, still donning his fighting leathers and surely he must’ve just rushed in from flying because his hair was a fucking mess. Inky strands lay messily atop his head, flopping over his forehead and teasing the thick of his brows. “What was that?” A finger points in the direction Elain had just disappeared off too and you’re unable to explain why such anger swells in your gut—all too aware of the fact that another female would be using your moves on him.

Seducing him in a manor that belonged to you but would never actually be you.

“Just wait a little, I’m sure it’ll make sense soon.” Confusion sweeps over the angles of his face at the vagueness of your words, skewing the corners of his mouth and you have to physically tear your eyes away before you did something stupid. Like, kiss him. You suck in a sharp breath, a hand curling around the doorknob. “You should get to bed, Az. It’s late.”

You can’t bear to see the look on his face when you close the door on him but it was for the best. It was one thing crushing on him while knowing he wanted another. But it was more complicated now, teaching the object of all his desires exactly what to do to him—how to please him and draw out the sounds you’d been dreaming about for decades.

You flop down on your bed, nose scrunching at the lingering smell of Elain on your pillows.

Sleep doesn’t grace you with her presence that night, instead offering a series of scenarios of what could be happening a few hallways down.

Elain’s back two days later, a goofy grin spread across her cheeks and a line of hickeys branding the side of her neck in a way that makes your stomach turn. It takes everything in you to hide the jealously, to smooth over the embarrassment of ever possibly thinking that Azriel would go for you when he had a blushing Archeron hanging off his arm. “I take it that it went well.”

“More than well,” Elain confessed, dressed in a pale shade of green with ivy’s laced into the thin sleeves. “It was perfect—everything was perfect thanks to you.” She continues on, divulging naughty details and devastating descriptions of Azriel’s fingers grazing at bare skin, the tickle of his hair against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his body when the nights chill became too much. “I’d always heard whispers about the males of Autumn but you guys really weren’t joking,” Your head tilts to the side at that certain detail, brow quirking and your spoon halts its swirling about the teacup. “Fire really does run through their veins.”

“Autumn males?” Your hair flicks behind your shoulder with the wild way you turn to face her, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “You were with Lucien last night?”

Elain nods with a knowing smile growing at the corner of full lips, the tulle of her dress shifting obnoxiously when she takes a seat on your bed.

“I guess I just assumed you’d be with Azriel.”

“Not quite my type,” She replies wistfully, gaze far away as if she were reminiscing on the night before and the male involved. “He’s yours though,” It’s not a question but a statement, thrown out there as if it were a known fact amongst others and you were the last to be let in. “—you like him.”

The teacup pressed to your lips muffles the words but Elain still understands perfectly clear. “”He’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t really look at friends the way he looks at you.” You swallow audibly, attempting to hide your interest and yet it’s the quick flick of your eyes that gives you away. “It’s exactly as you said the other night,” Elain raises from the bed, a gentle hand trailing up your arm the same way you’d done to her. “Love always begins in the eyes. Just look at him—really look at him and see what’s right in front of you.”

Your hands tremble in your lap and for the first time in a very long while, it was you that felt like the blushing virgin searching for answers and not knowing where to look. “I don’t think I’m capable of handling what I might find.”

“You are a woman,” Elain softly answers. “You’re capable of anything.”

[cercandodiscrivere]

Cadere | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.7k

warnings | 18+, infidelity / cheating, dark themes (mentions of war, death and murder), murder plans as part of sex talk, prayers, porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | The last time you dared to beg the gods for favour, you pleaded to be given to a man over another.

It seems just like a cruel joke how your wish was granted now—a jest that only serves to make you beg once more.

gifs by @whereisyourpippinnow.

“Dea, quae thalamorum custos es et coniugii praesidium, domum meam ab hostibus defende, me tua virtute sustenta.”

The voice, a low and steady murmur, seeps into the room like a wisp of warm air: Lucilla's prayer is not so much a plea as a soft-spoken lament, her words coated in a quiet sorrow that seems to echo throught the marble walls.

The words she whispers are unfamiliar, not part of the litany you were taught at the temple. Each request is carefully considered and every word is chosen with intention.

The last time you pleaded to the gods with such desperation, it was to beg for them to alter the path your father had chosen—but no divine messenger appeared in his dreams. The gods had greater concerns than the unwanted marriage of a young girl.

You wondered if they watched when your father confirmed Tiberius Aemilius Marcellus’ desire to wed you. If they knew the torment of leaving the sanctuary of the home you had grown in.

If they noticed how, even if you still tried to tint your prayers with the same devotion, they always tasted as sour as vinegar on your tongue.

“Virum meum sanum et incolumem redde, ut cor meum eius reditu gaudeat.”

The voice brings you back to the present.

Lucilla may have been careful with her words, but she showed little regard for the dove that she had her servants sacrifice. A delicate creature, even with its feathers stained red: an offering to Juno, the guardian of the household and of women. A gesture to secure your husbands safe return from battle.

You had anticipated a prayer to Mars, a tradition before men embark on glorious battles (although Tiberius, if he could hear your thoughts, would remind you that the true glory comes only after the brutality of war).

Lucilla appeared to share a similar opinion. "Leave it to the men to pray for war" she said when you had asked her. "We women pray for our lovers' safe return".

Affection is the closest thing to the sentiment you feel for Tiberius: more unbridled feelings are reserved for poetry and drama, not arranged marriages. He is a kind and devoted man, as is expected. As a Legate for the army, he ensures your safety: as his whife, your heritage secures the continuation of his bloodline—and that is all.

“Why not pray to Victoria, then?”.

“Victorious or not, let them come home alive—for if a man dies at war, sad is his wife’s fate”.

And with that, you knelt and bowed your head, listening intently as the woman begun her pleading.

The room is now filled with a dense and overwhelming aroma of incense; the scent clings to your throat, suffocating the air. As the smoke rises in coiling tendrils, it wraps around you, casting flickering shadows that dance along the walls.

The night outside is eerily quiet, the sound of men's laughter echoing through the walls: tomorrow morning, when the Emperors will bid farwell to the soldiers and their purpose, there will be no mirth.

The Emperors.

Your family had once been part of Settimio Severo’s court, your father a cousin to the imposing ruler. You grew alongside his sons—a past far enough that seems almost like a dream. Once, you used to hide with Caracalla to infiltrate the adults’ cenae, trying to steal wine without being seen. You would watch Geta as he trained, a lanky child with a gaze too serious for his age.

It has been years since they watched you leave, the bright nuptial flammeum still pinned to your hair. Now, all that remains to fuel your fantasies are fading memories and the echoes of laughter from the banquet; a grand celebration held by a General seeking approval from his Emperors.

One where lieutenants indulged in sweetened wine, losing themselves in its intoxicating spices.

A gathering not meant for women to attend.

“Pacem et securitatem mihi largire, et ne sinas me in bracchia malignorum cadere, ut sub tua misericordia vivere possim”. Lucilla’s voice falters as she finishes the prayer, the room falling into an unsettling stillness.

In the distance, someone shouts while others laugh. A servant standing behind you moves, her tunic brushing against the floor.

Lucilla's eyes quickly glance in your direction before she speaks. “Will you walk with me in the gardens?”.

To catch one last glimpse of our husbands is the implicit proposition; and while in every other situation you would never deny a woman of such high status, there is nothing you desire less—because catching a glimpse of Tiberius would mean seeing his domine. Your heart would not dare.

“Your request is kind” you answer, hoping your voice comes out as somber as hers. “But I have a son to go back to”.

You regret the excuse almost as soon as it leaves your lips, for the saddened look Lucilla gives you almost makes you stay. Out of all the things you could have said to her as you left her alone in the darkness of her home—filled with Acacio's men but devoid of any comfort for her—somehow it feels as if you chose the most hurtful one.

A moment later, her lips curve upwards in what could be considered a smile; yet it appears more like a mask meant to please others than a genuine reaction.

“I understand”.

Still smiling, she orders a servant to inform your litter carriers to wait for you at the entrance.

_

You bid Lucilla farewell with a respectful bow, one that she does not seem to register. Escorted away by her ancillas, you assume she will not walk through the gardens now that you are gone.

Indifferent to men’s affairs, the moon casts a silver glow — and yet the night is still too dark, too overwhelming to bear alone.

You should reach the entrance: but as you stand in the peristylium, your feet refuse to move. In the middle of the open courtyard, ecircled by towering columns, you can’t help but feel trapped.

Beyond the opposite wall lies the raucous dining hall, the air filled with laughts and shouts.

There’s music. There’s the sound of plates clattering and glasses clinking, accompanied by the occasional splash of wine that some drunken guests might have spilled. There’s footsteps, right behind you.

Footsteps. Behind you.

"Leaving so soon, without greeting the guests?".

You spin around, your breath catching in your throat —and there he is, just a few steps behind you. Geta.

Bathed in the moon's ethereal glow, his features are sharper than you remembered. You had always envisioned him and his twin as shining gold: gold like their crowns, gold like their coins and their brooches and the divine blood that flows whithin their veins.

Under the silver light, he instead emerges from darkness like a haunting memory from your past.

"Domine" you say as you lower yourself into curtsy—for an Emperor who speaks is one who demands an answer.

Even with your head bowed down you can sense how the ceremonious response displeases him.

"Ah, so formal” he remarks, his tone still teasing. “No need”.

His hand gently lifts your chin, straightening you. “I recall a time when you would refuse to bow before me, just out of stubborness”. A small grin appears on his face—and for the second time tonight, you can't help but feel that something is off about the smiles on everyone's faces.

“You would throw tantrums, and father would force me to apologise on my knees” you agree.

I miss those moments, you almost say—but it would make you seem too desperate.

Geta laughs openly, his hand still resting on you. He’s getting closer; you can almost smell the sweetness of the wine on his breath.

“It’s too early to be leaving” he says. “We haven't seen each other in years. It would be a pity to waste such a rare occasion”.

It occurs to you that you’re entirely alone with him now, and for just a moment you wonder if wandering the house alone was the best idea: your instinct is to give the same excuse you gave Lucilla—the longing to be in his presence so overwhelming it almost scares you.

…and yet, he wants it too. You cannot refuse an Emperor's request.

“You are right. My servants can wait a bit longer; catching up with an old friend is more important. Let’s talk, then”.

Geta laughs once more, his nose almost touching yours as his fingers gently rest on your cheek.

“Who said anything about talking?”

His lips meet yours a moment after.

It’s an insistent kiss, one that will leave your lips raw and red.

Instinctually, you reach up and twine your fingers into his hair while his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer. The resulti s that you fell trapped again—between his warm body and the chill of the marble column—and for a breathless moment, you lose yourself in the feeling.

It’s the sound of something hitting the floor, distant but still uncomfortably near, that has reality crash back like a cold wave.

You pull away abruptly, your heart racing. “Stop” go on go on go on.

Geta leans back just enough to give you space to speak.

"Tiberius is on the other sideof that wall" your voice is trembling—fear, excitement, shame. "A servant could walk this way at any moment. This is madness".

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, as if your words hold no significance. "You recall" he says instead, "you recall when your father would demand that you apologize on your knees". He moves closer, but instead of kissing you again or pushing you to the ground, Geta shocks you by dropping at your feet himself.

His intense gaze used to be a serious one—almost too mature for a young and careless man—but now it’s wild, deranged. "If he let you stay, I would have adored you. Worshiped every step you took".

You do not respond to the delirious declaration, too dazed to do anything beside gasping for air.

“You look just as good as I remember” his voice is soft. “Charming. Sweet. Beautiful… a shame, to see you leave with a man so insignificant”.

As he speaks, his hand sneaks under your tunic, inching up and up and up as he stands.

“I… We can’t” you are not even sure if he hears you. Shame swirls in your loins, mixing with desire—and despite all reason, you don’t stop Geta as he pushes the layers of your skirt up to your hips.

He presses against you once more, his gaze never wavering from yours. He doesn't need permission; even he knows he already has it. He wants to hear you admit that you want him just as much as he wants you. He wishes for surrender.

You whisper his name, unsure if it's a scolding or a plea. He leans in closer, planting fiery kisses along your neck. His mouth sucks on your skin until you moan into the air above him, fingers tightening into ginger strands of his hair.

It’s too much.

It’s not nearly enough.

“Yes” you say. This time your voice is clear. “Take everything you want”.

“I will”.

With that as a last warning, he spears two fingers inside of you, finding you wet and wanting. You hold onto his shoulder tightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath as a loud moan escapes your lips, only encouraging him to continue.

You've shared nights with your husband before—but not like this, never like this.

"Please-" you gasp, trying to hold on to some sense of modesty while also giving in to the rough, demanding movement. His pace is fast and unrelenting, and the most careless of you eagerly surrenders to them in hopes of reaching release.

Geta's grin stretches across his face, victorious as if he has just won a fierce battle. “Oh, it would be a shame to leave you to that man”. His lips caress your ear. “But you won’t be with him for long”.

The worlds ring wrong, but you can't bring yourself to look away from him. You stand still, unable to move, overcome by ecstasy, destroyed by the intense passion that he effortlessly ignites within you.

“Battlefields are cruel. Soldiers get hurt” he continues, and his choice of topic is so strange that it snaps you back to reality. “It is not uncommon for a legate to lose his life in action”.

“What-” and it’s all you can get out before you're overcome with pleasure once again, completely helpless in its grip. You need more, need him, need something that will consume you entirely so you don't feel as dirty as you do in this moment.

Geta seems to understand. The fingers draw away; but before you can even register the loss, he aligns you with his cock and pushes inside.

You let out a sigh—in relief or shame or both—and his hand darts to your throat, not enough to cut off your air but just to silence your whine. The possessive way he grasps you only adds to your arousal.

“Yes, he won’t have you for much longer” he growls again. “I’ll make sure of that”. The confidence in his words is laced with lust: he exudes strength and control– yet, it seems that you have the power to unravel him just as much as he can unravel you.

The pace of his hips is bruising: almost too much to bear, but you can't get enough of it. He's claiming you as his own, branding you with every movement, inside and out.

“Tell me you are mine, just mine”.

“I am yours” you almost scream. “All yours, only yours”.

He lets out a rough groan, using the hand around your throat to grip your hair as he thrusts into you.

A thin layer of sweat has coated his forehead, furrowed brows and parted lips giving away his concentration. Whether it's the feeling of your burning flesh against his, or the whispered fantasies he keeps confessing to your skin, it has his body in a wreck of tension.

His lips leave your neck, chapped and red, his movements now erratic as he nears his impending orgasm.

He does not look at you when he comes: he rolls his eyes up at the dark sky, daring the Gods to judge him. You both dive into each other one last time, clawing, grasping, lost in fiery ecstasy that leaves you moaning beneath Geta as he empties himself inside you.

The act alone leaves you shaken, your back curved and legs trembling as you cry out at the top of your lungs. You hold onto his feverish and heated skin, so that when you come back to your senses the first sensation you feel is Geta—all over you, claiming you as his own.

He traces his fingers over your skin, and you feel completely undone. Spent.

As your heart rate slows and your breathing steadies, the sounds around you begin to resurface: the cacophony of laughter, gentle strumming of lyres, soldiers shouting at each other. You scan the peristylium, looking for any servants or guests meandering about.

“Hush, don’t worry” Geta says, redirecting your attention back to him.

He leans in closer, but instead of seeking another kiss, he simply rests his forehead against yours. “Soon, we won’t have to hide”.

He speaks of war again, and all the ways a man can perish: and as he does, a shadow creeps over his face, sinister and cold. You feel a chill run down your naked arms, this time not from shame.

Geta laughs and promises luxurious silks with precious jewels. He tells how perfect you will be by his side, in gold. How you will bear his heirs—and his alone.

The last time you dared to beg the gods for favour, you pleaded to be given to a man over another.

It seems just like a cruel joke how your wish was granted now—a jest that only serves to make you beg once more.

It’s true that you may never be as devoted as Lucilla is: and yet, as Geta pants beside you, her earlier words still echo in your mind.

Pacem et securitatem mihi largire [grant me peace and safety]

Et ne sinas me in bracchia malignorum cadere [and do not let me fall into the arms of the wicked ones].

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: FULL COURT PRESS

paige x azzi

warning: heavy drinking, suggestive content

word count: 12k

A/N: This was not supposed to be this long and it’s extremely chaotic/all over the place😭. it’s honestly a reflection of my brain. one shots are actually really hard to write and be comfortable with ending lol. they meet in a bar ✨. leave live reacts and comments if you can !!

—————————————————————————

October 2023

Paige was definitely drunk. With each shot she took the weight of everything didn’t seem to press down on her chest as heavy, it all became less suffocating. Basketball used to be her sanctuary, her place of peace. The one thing she could always count to be a breath of fresh air when she felt like she was drowning. But now, every game felt like a tsunami where perfection was the only acceptable outcome for her. She just wanted to feel normal sometimes, even if it was only for one night here and there at random bars.

The dimly lit bar she sat in currently offered the anonymity she craved. Or at least, she hoped it would. She swirled the ice in her glass, completely lost in her thoughts as she was zoned out staring at who knows what, when the door opened the bell catching her attention.

A girl walked in, exuding an effortless confidence that Paige hadn’t seen in a while. Her brown curls framed her striking face, tan skin glowing under the warm light of the bar. She was tall and had a quiet energy about her, the kind that made people take notice without her even trying. Paige found herself staring, immediately captivated, admiring every part of her face that she could see.

So without thinking, she signaled the bartender over. “Whatever she wants, it’s on me.”

The bartender nodded, and a few minutes later, the girl glanced in her direction, lifting her glass with a smile, a dimple popping as she did. At this acknowledgement Paige felt a spark of courage—or maybe it was just the alcohol—as she pushed herself out of her seat. Making her way over to where the girl was sitting.

“I figured I’d come introduce myself. I’m Paige. Paige Bueckers,” she said, licking her lips as she leaned casually against the bar, her usual confidence with women radiating off of her.

The girl smiled, setting her glass down as she extended her hand. “Azzi.”

Paige shook her hand casually brushing Azzi’s hand with her thumb, her blue eyes lingering on Azzi’s for just a beat too long. “Do you have a last name Azzi?”

Azzi’s lips curled into a playful smile. “Fudd. Azzi Fudd.”

Paige licked her lips, keeping her gaze steady as she took her in. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Azzi Fudd. You’re gorgeous.”

Azzi tilted her head, as she studied Paige before saying. “Thank you superstar.”

Paige blinked, her confident smirk faltering for just a second. “Mmm, so you know who I am?”

Azzi took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Paige’s. “Hard to miss in the basketball world. UConn’s golden girl, right?”

Paige chuckled, leaning in slightly as her charm slipped back into place. “Yeah, sure, something like that.” She tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What, you hoop?”

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I do.”

As Paige stood there the two of them falling into easy introductions, the world outside the bar seemed to be fading away. Azzi’s calm, confident demeanor was a breath of fresh air for Paige who was used to people throwing themselves at her. Azzi didn’t seem fazed by Paige’s notoriety, and her playful confidence kept Paige intrigued.

“So,” Azzi said, her brown eyes having a slight sparkle. “What brings you to a random bar in the middle of nowhere?”

Paige shrugged. “Maybe I needed a quick break. Or maybe I was just waiting for someone like you to walk in.”

Azzi laughed softly, lifting her drink for another sip as her eyes held Paige’s. “Someone like me, huh?”

Paige leaned in just a little, her tongue darting out to lick her lips again. “Yeah. Somebody exactly like you actually.”

Azzi’s gaze flickered down for just a moment before she tilted her head, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping intentionally. “I’m not sure you can handle someone like me.”

​​Paige met her gaze, the tension between them crackling, and without thinking, she let her eyes trail down Azzi’s body, then slowly back up before saying “I’ll be more than happy to show you.”

Azzi noticed the once over, a smile curving her lips as she watched it happen. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what this is.”

Paige smirked, confidence still unwavering. “Who said I wanted to sleep with you?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “So, you just buy random girls drinks to chat with them?”

Paige hummed at this. “Touché…so what is it? I’m not your type?”

This time, Azzi’s gaze swept over Paige, pausing for just a beat longer than expected near her exposed abdomen before she replied, her voice low. “Mmm, I didn’t say that.”

At this, Paige's lips eased into another smile as she leaned closer. “Why not then?”

Azzi shrugged, her demeanor calm, even as her eyes stayed locked on Paige’s. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

Paige tilted her head, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Who said it had to be just one night?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I also don’t sleep with someone I just met.”

Paige with her elbows resting on the bar said, “Ahh ok..so, what’s the rule? Three dates? Five? I need to fill out an application?”

Azzi glanced up at Paige through her eyelashes, resting her cheek in her hand as she replied. “You’re really persistent.”

Paige’s smile widened as she looked at Azzi before saying, “It’s not every day I come across somebody as gorgeous as you.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige, the air between them a little heavy now. Her eyes flickered between Paige’s blue ones and her lips, a silent tension building as she tapped her finger lightly on the bar.

After a moment, Azzi leaned back, breaking the spell with a soft smile. “Let’s start with a conversation that doesn’t involve you trying to charm your way into something.”

Paige pretended to look offended. “Charm? This is just me being me.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, though her smile remained. “And that’s what makes you dangerous.”

Paige’s grin widened. “You say dangerous like it’s a bad thing.”

Azzi shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Maybe I think it is…Or maybe I just want to keep you on your toes. You seem like the type who needs to be entertained.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her voice dropping just enough to hold a playful edge. “Careful, Azzi. You’re starting to sound interested.”

Azzi smirked, her gaze still locked on Paige’s. “Never said I wasn’t. Just that you’re not going to charm your way into skipping the line.”

Paige hummed, leaning in slightly. “So there’s a line?”

Azzi chuckled, her tone teasing Paige now. “Maybe.”

Paige smiles saying, “Good thing I’m competitive. I can play the long game when it’s worth it”

Azzi chuckled softly, her eyes flickering with amusement. “That’s good to know.”

Paige smiled, a playful challenge in her eyes. “Guess I should sit down and get to know you then.”

Azzi gestured to the seat next to her, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “Guess so.”

After this their conversation flowed effortlessly, covering everything from basketball to life outside the spotlight. Azzi talked about her experience playing for a smaller college, how she loved the game without the added pressure of constant media attention, though she still got some here and there. Paige found herself completely captivated by the stranger, sharing stories and laughing until her stomach hurt. She completely forgot about what made her show up to the bar in the first place.

Hours passed without either of them noticing. Drinks flowed between both of them, Paige making Azzi never paid for anything. By the time Paige glanced at her phone, it was nearly 2 a.m.

“Damn,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

Azzi smiled at her. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”

Paige chuckled, a playful edge to her voice. “Who said I was having fun?”

Azzi tilted her head, a hint of tipsiness creeping into her expression as she studied Paige. “You didn’t have fun with me?”

Paige smirked at Azzi’s tone, her blue eyes a little glossy from her drinks. “We could have a lot more fun if you stop playing hard to get.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a smile. “I’m sure we could, but I’m not that easy.”

Paige’s eyebrows lifted, her confidence undeterred. “Like I said, I’m up for the challenge.”

Azzi tilted her head, her gaze meeting Paige’s with a spark of amusement. “Are you now?”

“Absolutely” Paige said simply as she reached for her phone, a sly grin on her lips as she began to unlock it but before she could speak again, Azzi leaned forward speaking to the bartender, catching Paige's attention.

“Excuse me,” Azzi said, glancing at the bartender. “Mind if I borrow a pen?”

The bartender passed her a pen, and without missing a beat, Azzi reached for Paige’s hand, her fingers brushing lightly over Paige’s skin as she began writing her number on the palm of her hand.

Paige watched, amusement flickering in her eyes. When Azzi finished, she glanced down at the number and then met Azzi’s gaze, laughing slightly. “You could’ve just put it in my phone, you know.”

Azzi capped the pen with a smile, standing up as she put on her jacket. “I could’ve, but this leaves more of an impression.”

She leaned in just slightly, her breath warm against Paige’s ear as she added, “And I want to make sure you’re still thinking of me in the morning.”

With that, Azzi straightened up, her eyes sparkling as she gave Paige one last lingering look before walking out of the bar.

Paige sat there, staring after her, a wide smile spreading across her face as she realized she was grinning like an idiot.

As she walked out into the cool air herself, Paige couldn’t help but smile. Tonight, she hadn’t been the golden girl, the star player, or the media’s favorite headline. She’d just been Paige, and she liked who she’d met along the way.

…

Over the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi fell into an effortless rhythm. Their phones rarely stayed silent, a constant stream of texts flowing between them from morning until night.

Dimples : What’s your pre-game ritual?

Superstar: Wouldn’t you like to know?

Dimples : I would, actually. I bet it’s something super intense like staring at a basketball for an hour to try to absorb its energy.

Superstar: Lmao. You always think you’re so funny.

Dimples : No denial though, huh? Interesting…

Between the teasing texts, there were long, late-night phone calls where their conversations would drift from basketball to their favorite movies, and childhood stories. Of course Paige made sure she flirted in between.

Paige often found herself lying in bed, the sound of Azzi’s laughter filling her ears through the speaker. “Wait, so you’re telling me you tried to dunk on your brother at eight years old?” Paige asked, barely holding back her own laugh as she tried to hear the story.

“Hey, I had big dreams!” Azzi replied. “Did I fail miserably? Yes. Did I get grounded for breaking the hoop? Also yes.”

“I need to see baby Azzi with big hoop dreams,” Paige teased.

“I’ll show you if you admit that I’d beat you in a one-on-one,” Azzi quipped back.

“That’s never happening,” Paige retorted, her grin so wide it hurt.

The banter always came naturally, but beyond the jokes, there were quieter, more vulnerable moments. Paige always claiming that nobody get’s her but Azzi as she poured out her feelings about basketball and how she didn’t really love it as much anymore.

But one evening, Azzi sent Paige a clip of her latest game with a message: Tell me what you think.

Paige opened the video and immediately dialed her number.

“Alright,” Paige began as soon as Azzi picked up. “Your footwork on that first drive? Chef’s kiss. But…”

“But?” Azzi prompted, a smile in her voice.

“You hesitated for a second on that three in the second quarter. You had more than enough space Azzi.”

Azzi sighed. “I know. I over-thought it.”

They stayed on the phone for hours, analyzing plays, discussing Azzi’s positioning, and even breaking down potential opponents going forward. Paige’s passion for the game peaked through the conversation, and Azzi soaked it all in, listening intently with a huge smile on her face hearing an unusual excitement in Paige’s voice as she talked about basketball.

At one point, Paige teased, “Maybe I should just be your coach.”

Azzi laughed. “Or maybe you could just transfer and come help us win. Imagine the headlines.”

Paige’s voice dropped into a softer, more teasing tone. “You just want me around more.”

“Maybe I do,” Azzi replied, the playful edge in her voice unmistakable.

When they weren’t buried in film, their in-person meetups were filled with just as much energy. Sitting in a booth at another quiet bar, Paige and Azzi leaned in close, the low hum of conversation buzzing around them.

Paige smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, when are you finally going to admit that I have game?”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “Ehh, I don’t know. You’re more of a fast-break kind of girl—you had a strong start, but you don’t seem to have the stamina to finish. You’ve been slacking lately.”

Paige dropped her jaw, feigning offense. “Wowww. So now you’re questioning my follow-through?”

Azzi grinned, shrugging. “I’m just saying, I’m not easily impressed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Paige shot back. “But you keep showing up, so I must be doing something right.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Is that line supposed to impress me?”

“Is it working?” Paige’s voice was low but still confident.

Azzi’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe.”

The line between playful flirting and genuine connection blurred more each time they were together. Azzi became Paige’s sounding board, someone she could spill her feelings to; her safe space. And with every interaction, Paige felt herself being pulled deeper into Azzi’s orbit.

…

December 2023

The glow of Paige’s phone screen lit up her dark room as she sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers scrolling through endless tweets and headlines. Paige Bueckers chokes again. Overhyped and underwhelming. She’ll never live up to the UConn legends before her.

Her heart raced as she read the brutal critiques. The game hadn’t even been bad. They’d won, she’d put up solid numbers, but the narrative didn’t care about solid. Anything less than perfection was failure in their eyes. And now, the relentless noise echoed in her mind.

She’ll never lead UConn to a championship.

She doesn’t deserve to go high in the draft.

Just another overrated star.

The pressure mounted, her chest tightening with every thought. Her breathing grew a little shallow, and her hands trembled as she gripped her phone. It felt like her ribcage was collapsing in on itself, each breath harder to take.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the panic away. She needed air, needed something—someone.

As if the universe heard her silent plea, her phone rang. Azzi’s name flashed across the screen, the sight alone lifting some weight off of Paige’s chest. Her hand trembled slightly as she swiped to answer.

“Wassup, pretty,” Paige said, her voice shaky but laced with soft flirtation.

Azzi let out a light laugh on the other end, her voice warm. “I can tell you’re overthinking just by your voice Paige.” She paused, letting the words sink in before adding, “I watched your game—you played great.”

Paige exhaled, a mix of disbelief and self-doubt slipping into her tone. “Eh.”

“Eh, my ass,” Azzi shot back without hesitation. “What are you doing?”

Paige took a deep breath, glancing around her quiet room. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

Azzi’s voice softened. “You think too much. You’re gonna give that pretty face of yours wrinkles before you’re 30.”

“I know,” Paige admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.

“How do you wanna play it tonight?” Azzi asked gently, her question open but filled with understanding.

Paige hesitated for a moment, then sighed, her voice quieter this time. “I miss you.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “I miss you more. You wanna talk about it?”

Paige nodded even though Azzi couldn’t see her, her voice steadying just slightly. “Yeah. I do.”

Before Azzi could ask another question Paige said,. “Do you have practice tomorrow?”

“No, why?” Azzi replied, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

Paige hesitated for only a moment before asking, “Do you wanna come over?”

Azzi didn’t need to think long. “It’ll take me some time.”

“That’s fine,” Paige said softly, her voice tinged with relief.

“Ok,” Azzi said, already moving. “Tell me what’s wrong while I get my stuff together.”

Paige let out a shaky sigh. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about what they’re saying. That I’ll never be good enough. That I don’t deserve this.”

Azzi’s tone shifted as she put her phone on speaker to talk as she gathered some things she needed. “You’ve already proven so much. You’re one of the best, and anyone who actually has a brain and knows basketball can see that. The rest? They’re just noise. And we both know you’re more than that.”

Paige felt a lump rise in her throat, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “You always have a counterpoint to anything I say.”

“Of course I do,” Azzi teased lightly. “It’s part of my charm. Now keep going.”

Paige nodded, her voice steadier now as she began to open up, the comfort of Azzi’s presence—even from afar—slowly quieting the storm in her mind.

When Azzi arrived, Paige opened the door, pulling her into a hug that was everything Paige needed in that moment. Paige held on a little longer than usual, her grip tight as if Azzi might slip away. Azzi just rested her chin briefly on Paige’s shoulder, allowing her all the time she needed, before Paige finally pulled back.

“Thanks for coming,” Paige said quietly, her voice tinged with a little vulnerability.

Azzi gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Of course.”

Paige guided Azzi into the living room, where the familiar hum of laughter and chatter filled the space. KK and Ice were sprawled on the couch arguing about something, while Nika sat cross-legged in the armchair, her phone in hand. Aubrey leaned against the wall, lazily tossing a small ball into the air. The TV was paused on a game, though it was clear they hadn’t been paying much attention.

“Aye,” Paige began, keeping a steady hand on Azzi’s back. “This is Azzi.”

Ice gave her a friendly wave, her usual laid-back demeanor with anyone but Paige and KK evident. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she said with a smile.

Nika glanced up, a smirk already forming. “Azzi, huh?” she said, dragging the name out teasingly. “Paige talks about you all the time.”

Aubrey gave a quiet laugh, offering a small nod. “Wassup Azzi,” she said, her tone kind although she didn’t say much else.

KK, on the other hand, wasted no time leaning forward with her trademark grin. “Girly pop, you’re way too pretty for her,” she teased, pointing a finger toward Paige.

Before anyone could react, Ice smacked KK’s arm, shaking her head. “Really, KK? Read the room.”

Paige rolled her eyes, brushing off the comment, though a faint blush crept up her neck. “Ignore her,” she muttered, looking at Azzi.

Azzi chuckled softly, her warm gaze flickering between everyone. “It’s nice to meet you guys in person,” she said smoothly.

Paige, ready to retreat from the chaos, gently tugged Azzi’s hand. “Let’s go to my room,” she said, her tone soft but insistent.

Azzi gave a small wave to the group. “See you guys later,” she said, her voice laced with light amusement at the team as she followed Paige down the hallway.

Once inside Paige’s room, the tension from earlier seemed to dissipate. The familiar scent of vanilla and a faint hint of lavender filled the air, and Azzi kicked off her sneakers by the door, glancing around the cozy space. Paige’s bed was unmade, a mix of fluffy pillows and a purple comforter that looked as if it had been hastily thrown back in place.

Azzi smiled faintly, dropping her bag by the dresser before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She leaned back on her hands, her gaze following Paige as she plopped onto the mattress beside her, remote in hand.

“So,” Paige began, scrolling through Netflix, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. “What are you in the mood for? Something funny? Scary? A rom-com?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Rom-com? Is that your go-to move when you have somebody here?”

Paige snorted, rolling her eyes as she kept scrolling. “Please, I don’t need a movie to impress you.”

“Oh, really?” Azzi teased, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Then why are you trying so hard to pick the perfect movie?”

Paige paused her scrolling to glance over at her. “I’m not trying hard. I’m just being considerate of my company.”

“Sure you are,” Azzi replied, her voice laced with amusement. She reached out, playfully nudging Paige’s arm.

Paige chuckled, turning her attention back to the screen. “Alright, what about this one?” she asked, landing on an action movie.

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to deliberate. “Eh, too much testosterone,” she joked.

Paige huffed dramatically, tossing the remote onto the bed and leaning back against the headboard. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Azzi grinned, leaning back beside her, their shoulders brushing now. “So you’ve said but still, here you are, inviting me over and trying to impress me.”

Paige shook her head, a laugh slipping out as she grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi just smiled, watching Paige scroll through her phone for a moment. “You good now?” she asked softly, her tone shifting to something gentler as she hints at what they were talking about a while ago.

Paige glanced at her, the teasing smirk fading into something more sincere. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Thanks for coming.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her eyes meeting Paige’s. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV and the occasional muffled laughter from the living room. It wasn’t awkward, though—it was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt more like understanding than absence.

Paige nudged Azzi’s knee with her own. “You pick the movie, since you’re so picky.”

Azzi laughed, reaching for the remote. “Alright, but no complaints if it’s a rom-com.”

Paige laughs saying “I’ll definitely laugh at you but sure.”

Azzi finally settled on a comedy, something light enough to keep playing in the background but not too distracting. She set the remote down with a triumphant smile and leaned back against the headboard.

“See? No rom-com,” she teased, shooting a smug look at Paige.

Paige smirked, turning her body slightly to face Azzi. “I’m impressed. You got range.”

Azzi tilted her head, her smile softening. “What can I say? I like to keep people guessing.”

The movie began, but neither of them seemed to care much about the witty banter on-screen. Instead, their attention shifted entirely to each other. Paige’s fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of her hoodie as she leaned in just enough to close the space between them slightly.

“What else should I know about you, Azzi Fudd?”

Azzi chuckled, her gaze dipping briefly to Paige’s lips before flicking back up. “I’m not that mysterious. I think you’ve got me all figured out by now.”

Paige leaned in a bit closer, her elbow resting on the pillow between them. “Not even close,” she said, her voice quieter now, a touch more serious.

“Alright, then. Ask me something.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it as her fingers idly tapped against her leg. “Okay. What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

Azzi laughed, leaning back slightly. “Oh, that’s easy. People who chew with their mouths open.”

Paige laughed too, her nose scrunching adorably. “That’s fair. What about…” She paused, her tone shifting to something more playful. “Biggest turn-on?”

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up, and she gave Paige a pointed look. “Very smooth transition, Paige.”

Paige grinned, unapologetic. “What can I say? I’ve been curious.”

Azzi bit her lip, her gaze steady as she considered her response. “Confidence,” she said finally. “Someone who knows what they want.”

Paige’s smirk widened, and she leaned in just enough to blur the line between teasing and daring. “Good to know,” she murmured, her blue eyes locked on Azzi’s.

Azzi tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes as she studied Paige. “Alright, your turn. What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

Paige groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Oh, that’s not fair. There are way too many to choose from.”

Azzi laughed softly, nudging Paige’s leg with her foot. “Come on, just one. I promise not to laugh... too much.”

Paige peeked at her through her fingers, her lips twitching. “Fine. When I was in high school, I was running and I tripped trying to jump over the hurdle. Full-on faceplant in front of the whole crowd.”

Azzi burst out laughing, her hand flying to her chest. “Please tell me there’s a video of that.”

“There probably is,” Paige admitted, laughing along with her. “But good luck finding it.”

Azzi shook her head, her laughter tapering off as her gaze softened. “Okay, that’s not so bad. At least you owned it.”

Paige leaned back, crossing her arms with a mock pout. “Your turn to embarrass yourself, then. What’s something you did that you wish you could forget?”

Azzi smiled slyly, her voice dropping just a touch. “I really don’t get embarrassed easily. But...” She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Paige’s lips for a split second before meeting her gaze again. “I have been caught staring at someone a little too long before.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk creeping back. “Oh, really? Who’s the lucky someone?”

Azzi’s smile grew, and she leaned in slightly, her voice smooth as she tried to move things along. “Well, right now, it’s you.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of teasing. “Right now? So, who was it another time?”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, no, it’s not like that. The other time was a complete misunderstanding. I got lost in thought, I wasn't even looking at the person, but they thought I was checking them out.”

Paige’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Ahh, got you. So, you accidentally made someone’s day, huh?”

Azzi laughed softly, her eyes flickering with amusement as she looked at Paige. “Something like that. But this time, no misunderstandings. I know exactly what I’m looking at.”

Paige tilted her head, her gaze holding Azzi’s. “And what are you looking at?”

Azzi leaned in slightly, her voice dropping a notch. “Someone who swears she’s hard to fluster but has been blushing for the past five minutes.”

Paige felt the warmth creep up her cheeks, but she didn’t break eye contact, her confidence undeterred. “I’m just giving you the satisfaction. Didn’t want you to think you weren’t having an effect.”

Azzi grinned, her tongue brushing over her bottom lip. “Oh, don’t worry. I already know I am.”

Paige leaned back slightly, resting her weight on her hands. “Confident, aren’t you?”

Azzi mirrored her movement, leaning back as well, her eyes gleaming. “I’d say it’s justified. What do you think?”

Paige’s gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. “I think you like to keep me on my toes.”

Azzi’s smirk deepened. “You’re telling me you don’t enjoy it?”

The air between them felt a little charged now, their playful exchange laced with unspoken tension. Paige tilted her head, “I didn’t say that.”

Azzi’s gaze dropped to the string of Paige’s hoodie, grabbing it to twist it slowly around her finger as the air between them shifted. Her voice softened. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer, her attention fixed on Azzi. “What’s that?”

Azzi glanced up, her eyes locking onto Paige’s. “You’re the one who keeps saying how much fun we could have. But…” She let the word hang in the air, her fingers releasing the string and brushing lightly against Paige’s chest. “You haven’t even tried to kiss me.”

Paige blinked, her breath catching for a moment before a slow smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re the one who stopped us last time, remember? Told me I needed to figure my stuff out first.”

Azzi tilted her head, her voice growing softer, almost challenging. “That was a month ago, Paige. Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for permission.”

Paige smirked as she leaned closer, their faces inches apart. “So I take it there’s no line anymore?”

Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her gaze steady. “Paige, the line was gone as soon as you sat next to me at that bar.”

Something shifted in Paige’s expression—her smirk fading into something more serious, more intent. Without another word, she reached out, her hand cupping Azzi’s jaw with a gentle firmness. She held her there for a moment, their eyes locking as if waiting for any sign of hesitation.

When none came, Paige leaned in, closing the distance as her lips brushed against Azzi’s in a slow kiss. Azzi exhaled softly through her nose, her hand finding its way to Paige’s hoodie, gripping the fabric as she leaned into the kiss, melting into the moment.

Paige, emboldened by Azzi’s response, slid her hands to Azzi’s waist, effortlessly pulling her into her lap. Azzi let out a quiet sound at this but didn’t pull away, her arms wrapping around Paige’s neck as their kiss deepened. The air between them grew heavier, the couple of months of tension dissolving.

After some time, Azzi finally broke the kiss, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she caught her breath. Her lips curved into a small smirk, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Should I be concerned at how good you are at this?”

Paige laughed softly, her hands settling on Azzi’s hips as she shook her head. “Nope. Not at all.”

For a moment, Azzi’s gaze faltered, a brief flicker of hesitation crossing her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Without saying anything else, she leaned back in, her hands cupping Paige’s jaw as she pulled her into another kiss, this one a little more sloppy, filled with the kind of urgency that had been building between them for months.

As the kiss deepened, Paige’s hands roamed Azzi’s sides, her thumbs brushing over the bare skin just above her waistband. The heat between them grew quickly, and when Azzi’s hands tugged slightly at Paige’s hoodie, Paige took the cue immediately. She pulled it off in one smooth motion, leaving her in just a sports bra. Azzi followed without hesitation, peeling her shirt off and tossing it aside before their lips met again.

The contact of skin against skin heightened the tension, and Paige wasted no time shifting their position. She slid her hands beneath Azzi, lifting her off her lap and laying her down against the bed. Hovering over her, Paige’s blue eyes locked on Azzi’s, searching for any sign of doubt. But all she saw was anticipation, the flicker of trust and desire that had been simmering between them.

Paige leaned down, her lips brushing over Azzi’s once more before trailing a path down her jawline, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of her neck. Azzi’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair as her body arched slightly beneath her, silently encouraging her.

Paige’s lips pressed against Azzi’s neck with a renewed intensity, her hands roaming Azzi’s body more freely as she left soft marks on her skin. Azzi’s breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair, urging her on. The sensation of Paige’s lips leaving heated trails across her neck made Azzi’s chest rise and fall in a quick rhythm, and she couldn't help but vocalize her pleasure. “Fuck, you’re good at this,” Azzi murmured, the words only spurring Paige on.

As Paige continued, inching lower to Azzi’s chest, she could feel Azzi’s body tremble slightly beneath her, her pulse racing. Azzi’s hands moved to Paige’s shoulders, a firm grip on her as she suddenly pulled Paige up to meet her lips in a desperate, heated kiss. Azzi broke it after a few seconds, pulling back just enough to catch her breath.

“Your teammates are here,” Azzi said softly, a hint of amusement in her voice but also a recognition of the reality they were both avoiding.

Paige, barely taking a moment to breathe, flashed a smile. “The walls are thick.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at her, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You sure?”

Paige laughed softly, brushing her lips over Azzi's neck as she whispered, “I swear,” her voice low and filled with a mischievous edge as she went back to kissing Azzi’s neck.

As she kissed down her neck again, Azzi’s breath caught, her body reacting everytime Paige’s warm lips sucked on her neck. She let out a soft moan, her fingers threading into Paige’s hair, pulling her closer. “Fuck, okay,” she gasped, her voice trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment.

Azzi's eyes fluttered shut, trying to keep control, but it was becoming harder with every kiss, every stroke of Paige's lips against her skin. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head slightly, whispering, “I’m still going to be quiet, though.”

Paige nodded against her, her lips brushing just below Azzi’s sports bra, a soft hum of agreement escaping her. She was about to lower herself again when—knock knock.

Paige groaned softly, dropping her forehead to Azzi’s stomach in frustration. "Please, no," she muttered under her breath.

The knock came again, this time firmer, more insistent.

Azzi chuckled softly, a breathy laugh escaping her as she ran her fingers through Paige’s hair, her smile still teasing despite the interruption.

Paige groaned, reluctantly sitting up and adjusting her sweats that were hanging low on her hips. She threw a quick glance at Azzi, giving her an apologetic smile before getting up to answer the door.

She cracked it open just enough to keep Azzi out of view. On the other side stood Ayanna, looking a little awkward. She glanced up and down Paige’s figure before pausing, her eyes widening when she realized what Paige had been in the middle of. "Oh shit, sorry," Ayanna blurted out laughing a little. "I didn’t know you were... busy."

Paige laughed softly, rolling her eyes. "It’s fine, Yanna. Wassup?"

Ayanna gave a grin, still standing there awkwardly. "I just wanted to borrow one of your chains... the long silver one?" she asked, her eyes flicking to the jewelry box that sat on a nearby shelf.

Paige nodded and stepped aside, making room for Ayanna to enter. She walked over to her large jewelry box, pulling it open to search for the chain. "Sure," Paige muttered, her voice still tinged with a bit of frustration from the interrupted moment.

As Ayanna stepped in, she glanced over at Azzi, who was still laying on the bed, a playful grin curling on her lips. "Hey, uh, I’m Ayanna. Sorry for interrupting," she apologized, raising a hand in greeting.

Azzi’s laughter rang out as she shot Ayanna a look. "Don’t worry about it," she said, her voice light.

Ayanna looked between the two of them, eyes lingering the clear marks Paige left. She paused for a second, her lips quirking into a grin as she nodded toward the bed. "Seems like you two were having a good time," she said, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle at the subtle remark. "We were," she admitted, shooting Azzi a quick glance as she found the chain Ayanna had asked for. "But I guess it’ll have to wait." She handed the chain over to Ayanna, who accepted it with a grateful nod.

"Thanks," Ayanna said, giving both of them a sheepish smile. "I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t want to get in the way."

Paige gave her a smile, relieved that she could now finally get back to Azzi. "No problem," she said with a slight chuckle. "See you later."

As Ayanna left, closing the door softly behind her, Paige turned back to Azzi with a sly grin, her eyes still a little dark. She crossed the room and climbed back onto the bed, settling on top of Azzi once more.

"Now," Paige murmured, leaning down to capture Azzi's lips in a slow kiss, "where were we?"

Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s waist as she returned the kiss, the tension between them building again. But just as the moment began to intensify, Azzi gently pressed a hand against Paige’s shoulder, breaking the kiss with a soft laugh.

Paige blinked, confused. "What’s wrong?"

Azzi bit her lip, her cheeks tinted pink as she chuckled. "That was the universe trying to save me from the embarrassment of your team hearing me," she teased, her voice light but carrying a hint of sincerity.

Paige groaned dramatically, burying her face in Azzi’s neck before muttering, "The universe hates me." With a reluctant sigh, she pushed herself off of Azzi and flopped down beside her, one arm draping over Azzi’s stomach as she stared at the ceiling.

Azzi turned her head to look at Paige, her teasing smirk softening into something more affectionate. “You know,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face, “I’ve learned something about you.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Azzi grinned, “You’re pretty dramatic.”

Paige huffed out a laugh, tilting her head toward Azzi. “I’m allowed to be dramatic—it’s been a long day.”

Azzi chuckled at this, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Paige’s cheek. “Fair enough,” she murmured. Reaching over, she grabbed the remote from where it lay forgotten on the bed.

“Alright,” Azzi said, settling back against the pillows. “Let’s find something we’ll actually watch this time.”

Paige smiled, her body relaxing as she shifted closer to Azzi, the moment between them now filled with a comforting ease.

…

January 2024

Paige had always been used to the spotlight, the constant expectations and scrutiny from the media. But after a recent game—one that, in her mind, had gone just fine—she was overwhelmed by the pressure. The game had been solid, not spectacular, but because she didn’t score 30, the media called it a "bad game." The headlines came fast, and her phone blew up with comments about how she didn’t deserve her projected draft position, how she would never be the one to lead UConn to a championship.

She drowned her frustration in alcohol at the bar where she and Azzi had met months ago. Paige absolutely hated feeling this way, lost in the opinions of others, feeling disconnected from her own love for the game. She ordered round after round, ignoring the warm buzz at the back of her mind as she tried to numb the constant spiral of negative thoughts.

Azzi had been texting Paige all night, but Paige had ignored the messages. She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts, no matter how dark they were, no matter how awful they made her feel.

At some point during the night, Azzi showed up. She had been worried when Paige’s messages stopped coming, and after doing a quick glance at socials she had a feeling Paige would be at the bar. Finding her slumped over at a corner table, nearly incoherent from the alcohol, Azzi rushed over, concerned. She managed to get Paige into her car and back to her place, basically carrying her to her room.

The room is dim, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the floor. Paige stumbles as Azzi helps her sit on the edge of the bed, her movements slow and unsteady from the alcohol. Her face is flushed, her hair messy, and her eyes, though half-lidded with drunken exhaustion, are filled with something deeper—something darker, Paige looked broken.

Azzi pulls the blankets over her, but Paige swats them away, too restless, too tangled in her own thoughts.

"Azzi..." Paige’s voice is slurred. She lifts her head, locking eyes with Azzi. "I don’t even care anymore. About any of this." She gestures vaguely, her hand trembling slightly, as if the words themselves are heavy. "Basketball. The fans. The media. All of it. It doesn't matter. It never will. I hate it now Az.

Azzi, who had been sitting beside her, quietly watching Paige’s descent, let out a soft sigh. She watches Paige closely, trying to gauge if she’s speaking from the weight of the alcohol or if this is something deeper—something Paige can’t suppress anymore.

But Paige’s next words slice through the haze of drunkenness with a clarity that leaves Azzi speechless and heartbroken for the girl she’s grown to care about so much.

"My mom… she won’t even look at me if I’m not perfect." Paige's voice cracks on the last word, and her eyes well up, her vision blurring as she blinks hard. She doesn’t try to hide it. "If I don’t score enough, if I don’t win enough, if I’m not the best, she… she won’t even talk to me. It’s like I don’t exist unless I’m this… this thing she made me out to be." Her hands are shaking now, her chest tight, breath hitching as she speaks faster, more urgently. "I hate it. I hate how everyone just looks at me like I’m some fucking… machine that’s supposed to perform. I hate that I don’t even know who I am without all of it. Without the games, without the applause, without the pressure. I’m just… nothing."

Her voice breaks as she lets out a small sob, her body trembling as the weight of her own words crashes over her. Paige tilts her head back, staring at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing, trying to hold herself together.

Azzi sat frozen for a moment, her chest tightening as she listened to Paige’s words. The rawness in her voice, the cracks of vulnerability that Paige so rarely let show, cut deeper than anything Azzi had ever heard. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand finding Paige’s and gripping it tightly, grounding her.

"That’s not true," Azzi replies softly, her voice steady but warm. "You're not a 'nothing' to me. You’re someone who’s hurting. And that’s okay. It’s okay to hurt." She lowers her gaze to the floor for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice is firmer, more certain. "You don’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to be flawed. We all are. I know what it’s like, feeling like you’re not enough—like you’ll never be enough, no matter how hard you try."

Paige’s gaze drifts downward, her thoughts swimming in a haze of alcohol and self-doubt. She looks up at Azzi, but her words come out bitter, a defense mechanism against the intense emotions bubbling just below the surface.

"You wouldn’t even entertain me if I wasn’t who I am," Paige mutters, almost too quietly for Azzi to hear. "I’m just a player on a pedestal. If I wasn’t who I am—if I was just… me—you wouldn’t even be here right now. You wouldn’t have talked to me that night.”

The words sting, hanging in the air like a cold weight. Azzi’s heart skips a beat, the sharp edge of Paige’s insecurity cutting deeper than she expected. She doesn’t respond immediately, unsure if the alcohol has distorted Paige's perception or if there’s truth in the words that sting too much to ignore.

For a long moment, Azzi simply watches Paige, her expression softening. Despite the hurt she feels from the insinuation, she knows this is just another layer of Paige’s pain speaking through her, the doubt and loneliness that plague her when she’s this vulnerable.

Azzi leans in slowly, and without saying a word, presses a gentle kiss to Paige’s cheek. It’s soft—like a quiet reassurance, an act of comfort without expectation. Paige’s eyes flutter, and she flinches just slightly, as though the unexpected touch has made her feel something she wasn’t prepared for, a softness she hasn’t felt in a while. So she doesn’t pull away.

Azzi pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, her voice gentle but firm. "That couldn’t be further from the truth and you know that Paige. You’re drunk so we’re not going to talk about this tonight."

Paige opens her mouth to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she sinks back into the bed, her body limp from the weight of the alcohol and the emotions swirling inside her.

Azzi stands, her heart still aching for Paige, but knowing the best thing she can do right now is give her space. She takes a deep breath, turns away, and heads toward the door.

"Get some rest," Azzi says softly, her voice like a whisper in the quiet room. "You don’t have to figure all of this out tonight. Just sleep, Paige."

Without another word, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Paige can hear her footsteps down the hallway, moving further away. When she lies back against the pillows, the room feels impossibly empty.

Azzi settles down on the couch in the living room, the silence between them thick and unresolved. She pulls a blanket over her, eyes closed but unable to drift into sleep. There’s so much she wants to say to Paige, so much she wants to reassure her of. But right now, all she can do is wait—wait for Paige to come to terms with her own truth, and for herself to figure out how to be there when Paige is ready to hear it.

Azzi exhales softly into the dark, wishing she could fix it all, but knowing that this journey is one Paige has to take on her own.

The next morning, Paige wakes up with a splitting headache, her heart racing with the sudden realization of figuring out where she was. Paige groaned, pressing her palms against her temples as the pounding in her head intensified. The faint morning light streaming through the blinds felt like a spotlight, amplifying her discomfort. “Fuck, please no,” she muttered hoarsely, her voice scratchy and weak. Her heart raced slightly as she tried to piece together the events of the night before.

Where the hell am I? What did I do? The questions spiraled, sending a wave of nausea through her as flashes of the bar, the drinks, and her overwhelming feelings surfaced. A cold knot of dread formed in her chest.

Fuck Did I… do something? With someone that wasn’t… The thought made her stomach churn, guilt clawing at her even though she and Azzi weren’t technically together. Her memories were blurry, but the fear lingered, and she refused to let herself sink deeper into the pit of self-loathing.

Forcing her heavy limbs to cooperate, Paige shifted slightly, scanning her surroundings.

She glanced around the room, disoriented, before spotting the familiar art on the wall—the same art she had seen the few times she’d been here and Azzi had shown her during their first few Facetime calls. She exhaled in relief, but the sense of discomfort didn’t fade. Her mind raced with confusion about the night’s events. Her body felt heavy, sore, and her brain buzzed with the aftermath of the alcohol.

She noticed a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the dresser and quickly took the water, hoping to ease the pounding in her skull. She shuffled toward the kitchen, the faint sound of sizzling drawing her in. As she stepped into the doorway, she saw Azzi standing at the stove, her back turned as she carefully flipped something in a pan. The familiar sight should have put Paige at ease, but something was off. Azzi’s movements, usually fluid and unhurried, were now methodical, almost stiff.

Paige’s lips parted to speak, but she hesitated, unsure how to bridge the gap between them. Instead, she moved forward, wrapping her arms loosely around Azzi’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. “Good morning,” she murmured, her voice was a little raspy.

Azzi froze for a moment before squeezing Paige’s hand briefly in acknowledgment. For a second, Paige thought things might be okay—until Azzi said softly, “Let go of me, please.” Paige immediately stepped back, her arms falling to her sides as she leaned against the counter.

Paige’s throat tightened, guilt swelling in her chest. “I’m sorry about last night,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes flickered to Azzi, who stood at the stove, her back still turned. The silence that followed felt heavier than the pounding in her head.

Azzi turned off the burner and set the spatula down carefully before facing Paige. Her face was composed, but her eyes carried a weight that made Paige’s stomach churn. Azzi crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter as she studied Paige with a look that made it hard to breathe.

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” Azzi’s voice wasn’t harsh, but the question hit like a hammer.

Paige opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed hard before replying, “I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t mean to be such a mess.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t soften. Her gaze stayed locked on Paige, who fidgeted under the scrutiny. “You weren’t just a mess, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice steady but laced with an undertone of frustration. “You scared me.”

Paige’s heart dropped at the words. She looked down, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor her. “I’m sorry, Az,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes, and I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t want to drag me into it?” she repeated, her tone hinting at some disbelief.

“Yeah,” Paige muttered, barely audible, the weight of her own words pressing down on her.

Azzi took a deep breath, turning back to the stove. She grabbed the plates, carefully dividing the eggs and bacon between them. Her movements were measured, but Paige could see the tension in her shoulders.

As Azzi set the plates down on the kitchen island, she spoke again, her voice softer but no less serious. “What do you mean by that?”

Paige hesitated, feeling the knot in her chest tighten. She slowly walked over to the island, pulling out a stool but not sitting down yet. “I mean… we’re not even together, Az,” she said, her voice strained. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I usually just handle it on my own.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened slightly, and she sat down, sliding one of the plates toward Paige, silently telling her to sit down. She didn’t touch her own food, her focus entirely on Paige. The silence that stretched between them was a little deafening.

Finally, Paige sat down beside her, but her hands stayed folded in her lap, her appetite nonexistent. She glanced at Azzi, whose posture was relaxed but whose eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

Azzi leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the counter. “Paige,” she said gently, “you think being a burden is the same as needing help? Because it’s not.”

Paige looked down at her lap, her voice barely a whisper. “It feels like it is.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone softening even more. “You really have to stop doing this to yourself. You don’t have to carry all of it alone. Not with me. We’ve talked about this.”

Paige’s eyes stung, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. “I just… I don’t want to mess things up. You mean too much to me. I don’t want you seeing that part of my life… to scare you away,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Paige carefully. Her silence felt heavy, almost unbearable, as if she was weighing every word Paige had just said.

After a moment, Azzi spoke, her voice calm but tinged with something Paige couldn’t quite place. “You think that part of your life would scare me away?”

Paige nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I’ve dealt with it alone for so long because… it’s messy. I’m messy. And I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Azzi’s eyes softened as she sat back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She exhaled deeply, the weight of her thoughts apparent in the tension of her shoulders. After a beat, she leaned forward, her expression a mixture of frustration and care.

“Paige,” she began, her tone steady but laced with emotion, “I keep telling you over and over—you don’t need to deal with it alone anymore. I feel like I tell you that every single day.”

Paige glanced up, the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice cutting straight through her defenses.

Azzi shook her head lightly, her hands uncrossing to rest on the counter as she continued. “You’re not some burden I have to carry. Your life isn’t too messy for me. Stop thinking you have to keep everything locked inside because you don’t.”

Paige’s chest tightened, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her fork. She struggled to find the words, her voice barely audible as she whispered, “But what if it’s too much?”

Azzi met her gaze, unwavering. “Then we’ll have to deal with it together. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, Paige. But if you keep shutting me out every time you feel like things are falling apart, how can I help? How can I be there for you if you won’t let me?”

Paige’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She felt exposed, like Azzi could see every crack and flaw she had tried so hard to hide. And yet, there was no judgment in Azzi’s gaze—just unwavering patience and care.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Paige admitted, her voice trembling.

Azzi smiled gently, the corners of her mouth barely lifting, but the warmth in her expression was undeniable. “I don’t either… but we’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “But it starts with you letting me in even when it’s ugly.”

Paige nodded slowly, her eyes glistening as she whispered, “I know, I’m sorry baby.”

Azzi didn’t reply, her hand reaching out to rest on Paige’s.

The moment hung between them, heavy with meaning, until the sound of Azzi’s roommate entering the kitchen disrupted the fragile silence.

Azzi glanced at Paige, her voice gentler now. “We’ll talk more later. Just… eat something, okay? I really don’t want you throwing up on my counter.”

Paige offered a faint smile, her heart still racing, and picked up her fork again. The food still felt heavy, but Azzi’s words lingered, a thread of hope tying her together.

…

February 2024

Azzi had a big game tonight. It was the first time Paige had attended one of her games making promises that she would find time to come to one despite her own schedule. Paige wasn’t just showing up because it was important to Azzi—she was showing up because it meant the world to her that Azzi knew she had someone there, cheering her on, no matter what. It didn’t matter that Paige was recognized by fans or that people were whispering about her presence as soon as she walked in. All that mattered to her was Azzi.

The game was packed with energy, but Paige couldn’t focus on anything except Azzi. She watched intently, her eyes never leaving her. Azzi’s every move was so graceful and confident, and as Paige watched her in her element her chest swelled with pride.

Azzi, in turn, couldn’t help but glance over at Paige every so often, her heart skipping each time their eyes met. It didn’t matter that the crowd was roaring, or that her teammates were all over her after she hit a big shot. In those moments, it was just her looking at Paige.

After the game, as Azzi made her way off the court, she spotted Paige waiting for her in the stands. She walked straight to her, her smile widening as she approached her.

“You actually came,” Azzi said, breathless, a playful laugh in her voice.

Paige’s smile was immediate and wide. “Of course I did. I told you I would. You were amazing out there.”

Azzi’s grin softened, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “It means a lot that you’re here. I know things are crazy for you with your schedule going into march, so this… it says a lot.”

Paige stepped closer, her heart racing as she reached out, pulling Azzi into a hug. The hug was deep and comforting, lingering just a little longer than usual. The crowd around them started to murmur—surprised to see the two together, given Paige’s status and the two of them never being seen together before this moment. They were close, but this moment was something else. Paige held Azzi tighter, wanting her to know just how much she meant to her. Azzi reciprocated, her grip on Paige firm as she took in the moment.

As they pulled apart, a few fans who had been watching took note of their closeness. Whispers began to circulate, but neither of them paid any attention. They were in their own world.

Paige smiled softly at Azzi, her voice quieter than usual. “I’m proud of you.”

Azzi looked at her, her eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

The two of them stood there, a quiet bubble in the middle of the chaos, just taking in the moment. Azzi’s smile was soft, a mix of exhaustion and happiness, but there was something deeper in her eyes. Paige had kept her promise. She was here. For her.

Paige pulled Azzi in for another hug and they held each other for a moment longer than most people would have expected, and it felt so right that neither of them wanted to pull away. Azzi couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through her chest. It wasn’t just the win, it was having Paige there—fully present, giving her all her attention, all her support, in a world that constantly asked for her attention in a hundred different directions.

Before they could say anything more, a few fans, recognizing Paige, began to approach. Their voices cut through the quiet, making Azzi’s smile falter just a little. But she didn't mind. That was the reality of Paige’s world. But it was still strange, seeing her become the center of attention even in this moment when it felt like it was just for them.

One fan, a young woman, stepped up, a hopeful grin on her face. "Hey, Paige! Can we get a quick picture? Big fan of yours!"

Another fan, a man holding a jersey that wasn’t Paige’s, chimed in, "An autograph too, please?"

Paige, still holding Azzi’s gaze, didn’t break her focus. She gave the fans a polite smile, but her voice was a little firmer than usual.

"Not tonight, guys. Sorry," she said, her tone calm but respectful. "I'm just here for someone else tonight." A few of the fans murmured in disappointment but ultimately understood as they gave the girls space.

“It’s okay, really,” Azzi said gently. She stepped forward, a reflexive smile on her face. “You can take a picture, I’ll wait for you—”

Before she could finish, Paige’s hand tightened around hers, as she looked at the girl, meeting Azzi’s eyes.

“No,” Paige said simply, a slight edge of protectiveness in her tone. “I’m only here for you, Az. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”

Azzi froze for a moment, her breath catching at Paige’s words. There was no hesitation in her voice—no compromise. Paige’s eyes were steady, unwavering, and Azzi realized then that this wasn’t just about a promise she’d made; it was about the space Paige was creating just for Azzi in her life, in front of everyone, despite the noise and the demands of the crowd.

Azzi blinked, her chest tightening with gratitude, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. "That was… sweet," Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned a little closer to Paige. "I didn’t expect that."

Paige shrugged, the corner of her mouth turning up into a half-smile. "I told you I don’t let anything or anyone take me away from the important things. And you," she said, her voice dropping just a little, her eyes soft and focused on Azzi, "are important."

Azzi’s smile softened, a small laugh escaping her lips, her eyes filled with a quiet affection. “You’re incredible,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s grin grew, her fingers gently squeezing Azzi’s hand. “I’m not the one who just dropped 32, remember?” she teased.

Azzi laughed, the sound light and carefree, before she pulled Paige a little closer, the gym now basically empty, their hands still linked. “You know..you’re lucky because I think I’m falling for you Paige Bueckers,” Azzi said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There it was—the truth, as simple and real as anything they’d said. And though the moment could have felt heavy, it didn’t. It felt freeing, like something they’d both been dancing around for too long had finally come to the surface.

“Well I fell for you a long time ago Azzi Fudd” Paige whispered back, her voice steady but full of meaning.

They stood there for a beat, their faces close, breaths mingling, the tension and connection thick enough to taste. It was a moment that felt timeless—like nothing else mattered, except for the two of them.

But just as they were about to close the distance between them, a voice broke through the quiet.

"Azzi!" It was one of her teammates, jogging over to them with a small smile. "Coach is looking for you."

Azzi’s smile faltered just a little, the reality of her responsibilities coming back into focus. She sighed softly, looking at Paige with a mix of regret and affection.

Paige smiled, though her heart gave a small twinge at the interruption. “Don’t worry I’ll be here,” she said, giving Azzi’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. “I’ll wait for you by my car.”

Azzi nodded, her eyes softening, and she leaned in for a brief kiss on Paige’s cheek. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

Paige smiled back, watching as Azzi turned and jogged off toward the locker room.

March 2024

The energy in the arena was electric, the air vibrating with the sound of fans chanting Paige’s name. Her jersey dotted the crowd, worn by people of all ages, from little kids with wide eyes to older fans who clapped enthusiastically after every play. Azzi had known Paige was a big deal—she’d seen it all over social media, heard the commentators wax poetic about her talent, saw people approaching her first hand out in public—but sitting here, surrounded by the deafening adoration of thousands, was something else entirely.

It didn’t seem to affect Paige at all. On the court, she was a force of nature, her every move calculated, her focus seemingly unshakable. Azzi couldn’t look away, captivated by the way Paige commanded the game. There was a fluidity to her movements, a confidence that made it impossible not to admire her. Watching her in person was different from watching her on TV—there was an energy to it, an intensity that didn’t translate through a screen.

Azzi sat there quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself in the sea of fans, though she doubted anyone would recognize her with all eyes on Paige. They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the game, and Azzi wasn’t even sure Paige knew she was there. Part of her hoped Paige would notice her, but she knew how focused the blonde got when she stepped onto the court.

But then it happened.

It was quick—so quick that the cameras definitely didn’t catch it, and most of the crowd didn’t seem to notice. Paige sank a deep three and as she jogged back on defense, her eyes flicked briefly to the section where Azzi was sitting. She pointed in Azzi’s direction, a subtle gesture that could have been overlooked if you weren’t paying attention.

A small smile spread across Azzi’s face, her heart fluttering at the acknowledgment. She wasn’t just another face in the crowd to Paige. That quick moment, fleeting as it was, felt personal—like it was just for her.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, her smile lingering as she watched Paige fall seamlessly back into her rhythm, her focus unbroken. The way Paige could still find a way to connect with her in the middle of all this chaos, only made Azzi admire her more.

…

After the game the crowd hadn’t fully thinned out by the time Paige made her way toward Azzi, stopping every few steps to sign jerseys, posters, and anything fans shoved in her direction. Her usual easy smile and charm were on full display, but Azzi could see the subtle exhaustion in her movements. Still, when Paige finally reached her, her face lit up in a way that made Azzi’s chest tighten.

Without a word, Paige pulled Azzi into a tight hug, dropping her head onto Azzi’s shoulder and exhaling deeply. Azzi’s smile softened as she wrapped her arms around Paige, resting her cheek against the blonde’s temple. The moment felt intimate, even with the buzz of fans and cameras surrounding them.

When they finally pulled away, Paige’s lips twitched into a smirk as she licked them, her eyes glinting with mischief. “So… you want me to sign your jersey?” she teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the small grin tugging at her lips gave her away. “I’m not a fan,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Paige gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Wowww, my own girl isn’t my fan?”

Azzi shook her head, her smile widening. “I’m probably your number one fan, actually.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, and she grabbed the sharpie from someone behind her. “That’s more like it,” she quipped. Without hesitation, she bent down slightly to scribble her signature across of Azzi’s jersey.

Azzi glanced down, noticing the hearts Paige had added at the end of her usual autograph. “Hearts huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Special treatment,” Paige murmured, her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear.

As the two stood there, fans crowded nearby, calling Paige’s name and clamoring for her attention. Paige glanced over briefly, flashing her signature smile and promising to get to them in a moment, but her focus quickly returned to Azzi.

For that instant, it felt like they were in their own little bubble. Paige stepped back slightly, her gaze lingering on Azzi. “Thanks for coming,” she said softly, the sincerity in her voice cutting through the noise around them.

“You played amazing,” Azzi replied, her voice equally soft, though there was a distinct note of admiration in her tone.

Paige’s smile widened, her shoulders relaxing as she pulled Azzi into another hug. This one lingered longer, Paige’s hands resting securely against Azzi’s back. She leaned in just enough to murmur, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, pulling back slightly to meet Paige’s gaze. “Later,” she promised.

Paige smirked at the reply. With a quick glance at the barrier separating them, Paige reached down and helped Azzi step over the rope, ensuring she was on the same side as her.

Once Azzi was safely on the other side, Paige flagged down a staff member. “Can you take her to the back for me? I’ll meet her there in a few minutes,” she said, her tone polite yet firm, making it clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Azzi hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning Paige’s face, but Paige gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back there soon I promise,” she said, squeezing Azzi’s hand briefly before turning her attention back to the eager fans still calling her name.

Azzi nodded, casting one last glance at Paige before following the staff member toward the back. Paige stood for a moment, watching her disappear into the crowd, before turning back to the fans with her usual bright smile, ready to finish taking pictures and signing autographs.

…

When Paige and Azzi stepped into the dorm, the silence greeted them like an unspoken invitation. No one else was around yet—a rare luxury that Paige didn’t intend to waste. She dropped her bag carelessly by the door, her arm draped casually over Azzi’s shoulder as they walked inside.

As soon as the door to the suite clicked shut, Paige turned to Azzi, wasting no time. Her hands found Azzi’s face as she leaned in, pulling her into a deep kiss. “I missed you so much,” Paige murmured against Azzi’s lips, her voice tinged with a mix of longing and relief.

Azzi pulled back just enough to laugh, her hands resting lightly on Paige’s waist. “You just saw me last week,” she teased, her grin warm and playful.

Paige shrugged, her fingers gently trailing down Azzi’s arm. “Doesn’t matter,” she said with a smirk.

Azzi shook her head, her smile softening as she looked at Paige. “It’s empty in here,” she noted, her tone dropping slightly, her implication clear.

Paige’s smirk widened as she caught the hint, and before she could respond, Azzi reached for the jersey she had on. In one smooth motion, she tugged it off, revealing her bra beneath it, and turned on her heel, heading toward Paige’s room without a word.

Paige stood frozen for a moment, her lips parting in surprise before breaking into a grin. “Fucking finally,” she muttered under her breath, her heart racing as she followed Azzi down the short hallway.

When they reached her door, Paige paused briefly, grabbing a couple of hair ties from her desk and slipping them onto the outside of the door handle. She shut the door behind her with a soft click, her gaze fixed on Azzi, who was already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her with a smile on her face.

Paige stepped closer to Azzi, her hands instinctively finding their way to Azzi’s face as she settled herself between her legs. Her movements were slow as if savoring every second. She leaned down, her forehead briefly brushing against Azzi’s before capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

Pulling back just enough to whisper, Paige’s voice was filled with a raw tenderness. “I love you so much,” she said, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s as though trying to convey everything words couldn’t.

Azzi’s lips curved into a warm smile, her hands gliding up Paige’s sides. “I love you more, superstar,” she teased softly, though her tone carried a depth of sincerity that made Paige’s heart swell.

Before Paige could respond, Azzi tugged her down, their laughter mixing as Paige allowed herself to fall gently on top of her. She buried her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent that had become a source of comfort and peace.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Paige allowed herself to fully let go. No pressure, no cameras, no expectations—just the steady rhythm of Azzi’s heartbeat beneath her and the quiet certainty that she had found something she never wanted to let go of.

Settling deeper into Azzi’s embrace kissing her deeply, Paige realized she was finally with the woman who had changed her life in less than a year.

[randomgurl2326]

Adam Relationship Headcannons

SFW

You two met after the whole Lilith and Eve debacle

You were sent to be his Guardian Angel down in the Garden of Eden. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about Eve when he first saw you

He was in the middle of the garden, talking to Eve and then you show up… man’s whipped. Simp I tell you

(Actually wished that you were made to be his wife instead of the baddie Lilith or the goodie-two-shoes Eve)

Again. Whipped.

Now, tho is guy… whewww. He may seem incredibly misogynistic to practically everyone around him. But he can be a total sweetheart

He would—if you didn’t know how to already—teach you how to shred on the guitar

Speaking of guitars, that gold strat that he had during the battle in the last episode is only used during a special occasion (case and point, when you two have a date night or after sex)

He also serenades you every chance he gets

After dinner

After a meeting

After sex

After just walking the goddamn promenade

I also think he would be heavenly (ha! See what i did there? No? Okay…) in the kitchen. Especially for date night. Adam knows how to make the best prime rib in heaven

(Lute totally hasn’t tried to blackmail the recipe out of him)

Adam is also very insecure about how he looks under his mask

Especially after having two wives ditch him for Lucifer

He definitely needs to be praised on a daily basis, even if it seems like he’s an egotistical asshole

Every day you tell him how handsome he is and he doesn’t believe you (c’mon have you seen him fuckin’ hot)

You two sometimes don’t see each other days on end because you both work so much. You being a high-ranking Angel/seraphim and him being well… the first man on Earth

If you guys go especially long for not seeing each other, you guys hole up a few days in your shared home spending time with each other among other things…

By the way, you and Lute are best friends, probably more than her and Adam

Like, seriously, if you’re not with him, you’re with her. Gossiping or fucking around, it’s heaven, there’s infinite things to do

You two are also very lovey dovey with each other

One time Sera had cover Emily’s eyes with her wings because you two were making out and feeling each other up in the middle of the Heavenly Court Room

Despite all of his faults, he’s a good husband to you, a great one actually. And if you two were to ever have kids, he’d definitely be the dad who everyone loves

He would introduce them to rock, punk, metal.

Definitely plays his guitar to get them to sleep every night

NSFW

Okay… he want lying about being the Dick Master. He can pleasure women, that is not a problem for him

Also, it might not seem like it, but he loves going down on you. Probably one of his favorite pass times actually

I swear, this man could make you scream his name within minutes. No joke

Don’t get me wrong, he loves receiving head

But just not as much as he loves eating pussy (Lilith and Eve missed out on that one for sure)

He also has a bigger dick than average

Probably 6-7.5 inches in length and hella girthy. Uncircumcised (duh), and a vein that runs up the bottom of it

Definitely knows how to use it

Every one within a five mile radius of your guys’ house… let’s just say I feel really bad for them

No joke, he is insane about pleasuring you

This probably also feeds into his insecurity about you leaving him (you won’t)

He for sure has a praise kink. Seriously, tell him he’s a good boy and he’s unraveling under your touch instantly

His favorite position is cowgirl (what can he say, he loves powerful women)

But he’s down for whatever position you want; missionary, warrior, against a wall, whatever

Speaking of wall sex, Lute has definitely caught you two more than once

The first time she did was when you two were in Adam’s office while he was supposed to be planning the next extermination. She came to ask him a question about it and there you two were. Goin’ at it like rabbits on the wall next to his desk

She couldn’t look you guys in the eye for three weeks. It was terrible

Adam also doesn’t seem like the type of guy to have sex toys or feel the need to use them

But, again, he’s whipped. So he’s willing to do whatever you want to do

Wont admit this to anyone but you, but he likes to sub every once in a while. Especially with all the ‘first man’ stuff weighing down on him he needs a way to get away from all that stress

Despite him making crude jokes about sex, he’s a very giving partner in bed

He had to make sure you cum at least twice before he gets his dick wet

Also, have I mentioned how good he is at eating pussy? Oh, I have? Yeah, well, he is (especially with that tiny bit of stubble on his chin… gahhh)

Just needed to get it out there

All in all, Adam is a very giving person in bed, can be selfish at times but will make up for it. He loves you too much for you to feel mad or upset (especially with him)

A/N: this was my first time writing for Adam and Hazbin in general. I hope you liked it. I love you all💚💜

[pbnbucks]

Nika x fem x Paige where the fem just transferred to UConn from another country or smth so her English is not good and she’s a new freshman so Paige and Nika show her around and flirt with her.

The two older girls come to agreement that they both want fem and always flirt her. They end up confessing one night and it leads to smut where they show her how much they care for her

word count : 1.2k

warnings : smut, cussing, overstim, teasing

summary : they showed you things you never thought you would see, living up to their promise.

the plane ride to uconn consisted of nerves and excitement, you’re from São Paulo, Brazil. when you first got the call from Ellen Herman to come play volleyball for her and the huskies you weren’t never going to think about it but your mother begged and begged for you to take it, and you did so your mother wouldnt worry, the hard part was you had to leave the day before mothers day leaving her and your 2 sisters alone. when you landed there was a bilingual chauffeur to pick you up from the airport and drop you off at the university, everyone greeted you including the athletic teams except the basketball team, they where on the end of the season trip to places like Croatia and Slovenia. which brings you to your next obstacle

its early October, your classes consisted of family consumer science and you picked up extra english classes. you english gotten better over the months as you spent more time with the team and you where able to spend time around more american’s and the team. its wasn’t until the 7th game you became a starter on the volleyball court, but what surprised you even more was the women’s basketball team wearing head to toe basketball issued gear. but thats not what surprised you it was the fact that 2 of the starters for the basketball team came up to you after the game. your first thought was that they were going to walk to somebody else but it gave it away when the rest of the team behind them kept smiling at you and then laughing to each other, as they basically backed you into a corner leaving you no room to escape from the tall muscular girls. they started off by introducing themselves and you introduced yourself, you hoped the conversation would end there but it didn’t, it went way farther then things could imagine. the brunette was the first to speak up after the quiet and awkward encounter. “we wanted to know if you wanted to come to this ice cream place with us so you can see how Connecticut really is” you thank the girls and agree to their idea.

“so where are you from?” the sweet blonde asks as she has been making small talk with you all night. “im from São Paulo Brazil, im guessing your from America but shes not?” you point at the brunette who clearly had a thick accent from a foreign country. “yea im from Zágreb Croatia.” she responds flashing a smile that catches your eye “you have a pretty smile” nika just smirks and give paige a look that makes paige jealous “you have pretty thighs, princess” nika blurts before she even thinks about what shes saying trying to play it off “thanks i guess?” you laugh getting a bit embarrassed from her comment.

you and the two girl have been hanging out for about 3 months now as you recieve a text from nika that said “we want you to come to our dorm princess. we want to show you things you’ve never seen before” at first you thought the girls where talking about Connecticut but they have such different plans on what to do with you. the girls wouldn’t let you say no to them as paige takes it upon herself to open the door for you as you get fully in nika tells you to sit on the couch with them, it only takes two minutes for nika to break the silence “i dont know why you sitting so far away from us ms brazil” you’re startled from her comment considering you weren’t that far and there was no other place to sit “what do you mean theres no other place to sit?” once you say that paige and nika exchange looks as she grabs you by the waist placing you onto her lap “what about right here princess? you like this spot” hoping you could shrug off her comment but she wouldn’t let it go “i asked you a question pretty, when someone asks you something you have to answer them” you try to hide your face as its only been 5 minutes in to her dorm and she already has you blushing and legs shaking “yes i like my spot” you whisper into her ear so you wouldn’t feel even more embarrassed “your spot? so possessive baby” you roll your eyes looking to the blonde with pleading eyes hoping she would save you from your own embarrassment, which doesn’t slide past nika making her smirk not even trying to hide her emotions full of lust “go on baby go sit with paige, shes the nicer one” she helps you get off her lap placing you right on top of paige as paige pushes you on to her lap as she places her large hands on your inner thigh. nika saw this and decided she had enough waiting. she pushes the hair out of your face getting closer to you at face level “you want us to fuck you?” you look to the blonde behind you as she only smiles back at you massaging your inner thigh you nod your head to the girl but she refuses to take it as a answer “i need you to use your words mama. if you dont nobodys going to touch you.” you can feel your arousal already forming a pool as just her accent gets you weak “yes please, i want to”

thats all she needed to pick you up like a toddler and placing you in the edge of the bed stripping you from your clothes revealing all the spots she wanted to see. she rubs her hands all over your stomach as the blonde enters the room but except this time in sweats and a sports bra “your so pretty baby” the brunette says placing a teasing kiss on your lips. she runs her finger through your slick folds leaving you needy wanting more but she declines and makes you wait “cmon baby i wanna hear the reason you got that sexy ass accent” she speaks placing a finger right before your entrance “por favor faça-me sentir bem, eu te imploro” and with that she finally enters her finger into you finally letting go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as the long fingers sinks all the way in you slip out a pornographic moan that has nika feeling weak in her stomach as paige comes up next to her rubbing circles on your clit, making your legs begin to shake as nika adds another finger and paige continues the assult on your pussy licking a long stripe up your core making your hand fall to her head pushing her closer. “awww does that feel good baby?” the croatian teases you for how needy your body language is getting, you grind onto her fingers and paiges face, when you feel a knot forming in your stomach. “fuck- im gonna cum” once you say that paige runs her fingers up and down your shaky thighs trying to ease you into your release “oh really? i think you can hold it a little longer” the brunette says proving her point when she said paige was the nice once. nika knows exactly what shes doing as she pushes paiges head closer to your core as your wetness is practically dripping from paiges chin while nika continues to pound her fingers in to you not loosing speed what so ever. “pleasee, i cant hold it any more” you beg for the girl to let you release “what do you think paige should we let her cum?” the blonde nods her head out of sympathy for you as they both put you through a endless amount of teasing all night “go on baby, cum all over paiges face and my fingers.” this time it feels different, you weren’t just cuming, you’re squirting. nika sits there in shock as paige continues to try and get every bit of cum she can moaning onto your clit sending vibrations through your body. “yeaa thats it, such a good pussy” the girl praises as she takes her fingers out of you pulling her body up to kiss you. “if i knew you where going to react like that, i would’ve been the one to eat that pretty pussy princess.”

[imaginesmai]

Missed target - Azriel

Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.

Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

The Suriel 1

The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.

Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.

“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”

The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.

Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.

As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.

Missed date

Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.

Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.

Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.

But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.

“Are you ready to order?”

He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.

“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”

“Water is fine”

They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.

Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.

It was a nice plant.

“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.

“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “

Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.

The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.

Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.

Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.

Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.

Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.

His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.

Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.

You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.

“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”

“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.

“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”

Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.

But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.

“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”

“I’m Azriel”

“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”

“No”

He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.

You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.

When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.

As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.

The market

Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.

There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.

She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.

It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.

But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.

It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.

The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.

When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.

Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.

“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”

“Are you planning to eat it with me?”

Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.

He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.

Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.

“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”

The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.

But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.

He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

The flowers

Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.

He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.

He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.

The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.

It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.

She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.

Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.

In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Try to smile without looking creepy.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.

In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?

Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.

Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.

All because of the stupid melody.

His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.

He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.

“Hello?”

Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.

You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.

He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.

Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.

He had signed it.

Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel

His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.

The dance

“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.

“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”

Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.

His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.

“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”

“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.

“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”

“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”

“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”

Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.

Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.

Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.

Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.

Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.

“Is it because Elain?”

The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”

“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”

“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.

He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.

For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.

He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.

When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.

Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.

“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”

Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.

Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.

Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.

“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”

“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.

“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”

Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.

Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.

He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.

Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.

Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.

“Damnit!”

“Careful – “

Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.

Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.

His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.

Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.

“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”

“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”

“That’s good”

Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.

Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.

“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”

“It feels right”

Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.

Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.

His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.

The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.

The Suriel 2

In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.

But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.

The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.

As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.

The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.

He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)

@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog

[miley1442111]

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and  just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me. 

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck. 

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her. 

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-” 

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh. 

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist. 

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious. 

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years  of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now. 

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.” 

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes. 

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him. 

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid. 

[maidragoste]

VI. Fury

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Series masterlist

Part 6 of this

I still can't believe writing more than 5000 words, there were times when I thought this would never come to light and it frustrated me so please give it a lot of love and let me know what you think of this chapter 🥰💖💖

As always comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading 💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

When the Queen was informed that Harwin had been seen leaving your chambers in the middle of the night she felt her heart skip a beat. She was afraid that for some reason you had decided to forgive your husband for his indiscretions with the princess and give your marriage another chance.

When it was time for lunch that Alicent, Larys, and you had, there was no need for the Queen or Larys to ask you about your husband's sudden visit because you told them yourself. Harwin offered to help the twins put to sleep and you accepted because you were tired Alicent instantly offered to hire more maidens to take care of the children at night so you could rest but you refused saying that you didn't want other women to take care of your children. While you were saying that Alicent couldn't help but notice that you were looking askance at Larys as if you were expecting a reaction from him but she thought it must have been her imagination because when Larys changed the subject you didn't seem disappointed or upset. Unfortunately, the Queen's worries did not disappear throughout the meal so when you left to go spend time with your sister and mother she shared them with Larys.

"I'm afraid that he will once again occupy a place in her heart," the woman admitted, clasping her hands under the table. "What happens if he convinces her to give him another chance? What if she leaves us?" As she spoke, she took off part of the cuticle of the thumb. If her father was watching her he would be scolding her. She knew it was a horrible habit but the anxiety she felt at the thought of losing you was too great. Alicent wouldn't know how to live alone as your friend again, not now that she had tasted what true love was. No one cared about her like you do.

"You heard her, she only let him stay because of the children" the man reminded her as he poured them both more wine "She will never forgive him" he declared and the Queen was envious of his trust. Larys must have noticed that her concern was great because she added "Besides, she will never leave us, especially you. She always seems to want to kill Criston Cole for daring to breathe the same air as you."

Alicent hurriedly brought the wine glass closer to her mouth to hide her smile. Larys' statement had to upset her, after all, Criston Cole is one of the few people she trusts and she should be upset that you want to hurt him, but instead, she managed to calm her down a little.

But Alicent's worries soon grew worse as the days went by because Harwin kept coming to your chambers and the worst thing was that now the two of you with the twins were walking around the castle together. At first, Larys wasn't worried that Harwin would spend time in your chambers after all you made it clear that you were only using him to babysit the twins. But now Larys felt sick every time he saw the four of them together at court. They seemed like a happy family. Aethan shouldn't look so comfortable tied against Harwin's chest with one of the special clothes your mother had ordered for you from Essos, and you shouldn't look so calm when Harwin's hand is on your back while you hold Alyn. You should move away every time his brother kisses your forehead but you don't. You're never the one to initiate the physical contact but Larys still doesn't like it, he's not sure if you're really not pulling away because you don't want to make a scene or because you're bonding with Harwin now that he's spending so much time in your chambers.

One day Larys reaches his limit. You, Alicent, and Larys are eating together again but the man instead of joining the conversation you two are having is too busy thinking about the image of Harwin with his hand on your back again while you were both talking to some Lord and how later his brother left the conversation but not without kissing you on the cheek before leaving.

"Why do you let Harwin spend so much time with you?" he suddenly interrupts your conversation with Alicent. She looks at him surprised but at the same time seems grateful for him to dare to question your closeness with Harwin since she would never do it for fear of upsetting you.

"I told you he's just helping me with the twins," you replied, frowning at his rude interruption.

"You shouldn't be depending so much on Harwin to take care of your own children."

"Larys" Alicent's intention was a reprimand but he could detect the nerves in her voice and her eyes.

Larys knew he said the wrong thing when he saw how your eyes seemed to spark and how you abruptly dropped the cutlery.

"Our" you corrected him. "And maybe I wouldn't be depending on Harwin so much if you took charge" you spat every word like it was poison.

"We should take a moment of silence before saying something that we regret," the queen proposed in an attempt to calm the waters as she tried to take your hand but you pushed her away and barely looked at her.

"It's not fair. We both knew that when you got pregnant the child couldn't know the truth" Larys said, appearing calm, not wanting to let you see that your words bothered him.

"Of course, they won't grow up knowing the truth but you're not even trying to help me" you crossed your arms. "Even Daemon and Rhaenyra seem more interested in them than you," the bitterness in your voice was clear.

And the only reason for that was because they both wanted to fuck you but Larys wouldn't tell you that because it would only make your anger worse so instead he told you the reason for his distance.

"I stay away to avoid making people suspicious"

Not wanting the court to suspect him of being the father of your children was not the only reason for his distance. The truth is that Larys had no idea what to do with the twins. He saw the immense love you had for children. Not just you, your parents and your siblings too. Everyone seemed to love Alyn and Aethan from the minute they saw them but he didn't. Of course, he was worried about their safety the second you announced to Harwin and Lyonel that he was the father. He didn't want anything bad to happen to them but he wouldn't say that he loves them and he's sure they don't either, especially Aethan because the few times he carried them, they became instantly agitated and cried demanding to come back to you. Their crying made his head hurt and he's sure it made your head hurt too so he stayed away thinking it would save both of you the stress of hearing the children scream.

"People think you're their fucking uncle, no one will suspect that you spend time together. You're family." It was obvious that you were dissatisfied with his defense by the exasperation in your voice. "And don't tell me that you're afraid that someone will realize the truth because Aethan has the same eye color as you because months went by and no one said anything. So stop being paranoid and spend time with your children" You got up from the table "I'm sorry, my queen, but I lost my appetite and I have to continue with my duties"

Neither Alicent nor Larys had any doubt that you were angry but you confirmed it when you left without even giving them both a measly kiss goodbye.

"You have to fix it," Alicent ordered, looking at him furiously. "If we lose her because of you..."

"That's not going to happen," the man interrupted, throwing his napkin at the table angrily. "I'll fix it."

Of course, after that argument, Larys couldn't allow you to get even closer to Harwin so that same afternoon he sent you a message through one of your maids. He asked you not to allow his brother to come to your chambers tonight because he was thinking of coming to see you. In the middle of the night, Larys entered through the secret passage that had your chambers hidden behind one of the paintings. A snort left your mouth when you saw him appear with a small bouquet.

"If you think I'll forgive you because you brought me flowers, you're wrong," you warned him but your anger shouldn't have been so great because you didn't leave his side when he sat next to you on the bed, in the middle were the twins lying awake. Face up they seemed entertained trying to turn around on their own. Larys was relieved that neither of them burst into tears when they saw it.

"I'm not stupid to think that, I know your character.," he said and extended the bouquet to you waiting for you to take it, you looked at it doubting whether to take it or not "It see like someone wanted it more than you" he commented when you saw Alyn stretch out her small hand as if he wanted to touch one of the flowers. "Do you mind sharing?" you shook your head and couldn't help but smile when you saw him remove a flower from the bouquet to give it to Alyn. You hurriedly pulled another flower from the bouquet and gave it to Aethan before he got jealous. "I will get better at this parenting thing. I will come at night and help you take care of them" he wanted to see your reaction but his attention went to Aethan when he saw him put one of the petals in his mouth so he moved the flower away from the baby making him squeal. Not wanting Aethan to start crying, he gave him the flower again but he had to take it away because he put the petal in his mouth again.

"Why does he want to eat it?"

You laughed as you saw the frustration on Larys's face because every time he gave the flower to Aethan he kept wanting to eat it and then squealed when Larys pushed the flower away. But he wasn't a squealer like when he was about to throw a tantrum, it was one of the ones he did when he played with you or your brothers.

Alyn must have also thought his father was making a funny face because he joined in with your laughter.

"I'm sure that at first the color of the flower caught his attention, but now he just thinks that he's playing with you," you reassure him. "Larys, I want actions, not just empty words. I want you to be there for us," you asked, returning to what your lover had said before.

And Larys showed that he was serious. He started coming to your chambers in the middle of the night to help you with the children. You noticed that at first, he seemed to struggle when they cried but after you taught him that skin-to-skin contact helped calm them down and told him that talking to babies helped too, Larys seemed to handle it well, although the first few times you had to stop yourself from laughing at how uncomfortable and lost the man looked because he had no idea what to talk to babies about. You had to tell him to stop thinking about it so much and just talk. Larys didn't make silly voices like Laena, Laenor, or Harwin but Alyn didn't seem to mind because he happily responded to his father with babbling. It didn't take long for Aethan to join in as well because she didn't want to be left out of the "talk."

You will never forget Larys' smile when for the first time he was greeted by Alyn's excited screams as soon as he saw his father enter your chambers. You feel happy with all this development, not only that but Larys also starts to join you during the day, of course not every day, but sometimes he happens once at the nursery with you or they meet by "chance" with you in the gardens and show the twins the flowers together. Even Princess Helaena joins you a couple of times but she soon loses interest in the flowers and entertains herself with the bugs she finds on the ground. At those times Larys and you have to make sure the twins don't try to put any insects in their mouths.

Everything seems to be fine again...Except for Harwin, who feels displaced when you no longer allow him to spend the nights in your chambers and starts seeing you and Larys together during the day. Harwin knows that he should be happy with the fact that you no longer seem to hate him and with the rapprochement that the two of you had during the time that he helped you with the twins. You don't seem angry when you meet him at nursery, nor do you reject him when during the day he insists on spending time with you and the twins. You don't even yell at him when he proposes that Jacaerys join the four of you. He should settle for that but he can't. He just wants to get your love back.

You should not have been surprised when one of your maids came to inform you that your husband was in the princess's chambers. You didn't expect that now that you could stand his presence and have the occasional civil conversation with him, he would magically forget about Rhaenyra. You weren't stupid, you knew he was still seeing her but you hoped he would at least have a little respect for you. You couldn't believe he dared to be in Rhaenyra's chambers while she gave birth. People were already talking about you three but this would only make it worse. You didn't think they could dare to humiliate you any further, at least at the birth of Jacaerys, Harwin hadn't dared to do this.

Fury took over your body. You ignored your maid's calls as you strode out of your chambers.

You felt the blood in your body heat up, noticing that you were getting closer to your destination. You couldn't stop thinking about your hands around Harwin's neck. You wanted to kill him. But you couldn't do it. If you kill your husband you will not go unpunished and you will suffer some punishment, your death, or your exile, and the last thing you want is to leave Alicent and Larys. So you'd have to settle for making a scene.

If Rhaenyra and Harwin wanted attention then you would make a damn spectacle. Tomorrow there wouldn't be a single person who wouldn't talk about you three.

When you finally reached your destination you abruptly opened the doors making as much noise as possible. You entered, leaving the doors open with the intention that anyone who passed by could hear you. You found Rhaenyra lying on her bed with Harwin kneeling next to her and holding her hand.

All eyes were on you, Laenor looking at you with fear, the midwives tensed while the princess and your husband looked at you with pure surprise. For a moment Rhaenyra thought that you would be at her side and accompany her while she gave birth.

“I tried to get him away from her,” Laenor said quickly, from the corner, seeing the fury in your eyes not wanting to be on the receiving end of it. Not when he had struggled to obtain your forgiveness.

You ignored your brother and headed straight for Harwin. One of Rhaenyra's handmaidens thought you would try to hurt the princess so she tried to stop you by standing in front of you. You barely bothered to look at her before pushing her in Laenor's direction. Your brother, as you expected, caught her before she could fall to the floor. The screams of the other maids irritated you even more. You hadn't even put all your strength into the push, of course, they had to be just as dramatic as Rhaenyra.

“What are you doing here?” with every second that Harwin passed in silence you felt your fury grow even more, the worst thing was that he didn't seem to have any intention of separating himself from the princess because he was still holding her hand. “Why does a sworn shield need to be here? “You questioned but again you didn't get any response causing you to lose what little control you had “You can't protect her from the birthing bed, you idiot! You shouldn't be here! Do you understand how humiliating it is for me, for my children, that you are here?!” As you spoke, you raised your voice more and more to the point that you ended up shouting, you were sure that at least your complaint had been heard by anyone who was there. will be found in the hallways. You were sure that from today the court would be sure that Harwin was the father of Rhaenyra's children.

You saw Rhaenyra flinch, you didn't know if it was because of your screams or because she was having a contraction. You didn't care anyway, she did this to herself you thought. If she were smarter she would not have gotten pregnant by your husband again and much less would she have allowed him to accompany her during her birth.

“She needs me,” said Harwin, looking at you with pleading eyes, hoping you would understand, you should, you know Rhaenyra and you know that she is afraid of childbirth after everything her mother suffered.

“Harwin, we're leaving,” you demanded.

Harwin loves you but he loves Rhaenyra too so he couldn't leave her alone right now, not when she knew she was scared and needed him.

“No,” he said painfully, knowing that the little process he had done between the two of you would be forgotten. Now you would get angry but then he would work hard to win you over again.

Your dragon blood or your Baratheon blood had to have taken over your body because suddenly your hands were on your husband's scalp. Years ago you had caressed his curls tenderly but now you found yourself pulling him with all your strength, if he wasn't willing to get out then you were willing to drag him. You would embarrass him in front of the maids and anyone in the hall.

Harwin quickly let go of Rhaenyra's hand to prevent you from ending up dragging her with him. The princess didn't know what to do as she watched in shock as Laenor grabbed you by the waist and tried to pull you away from Harwin, but you didn't give in, your hands seemed to be clinging to him. All Rhaenyra could do was shake her head as one of her handmaidens approached the door ready to call the guards and silence the rest. The last thing she wanted was to get you in trouble.

“Please, sister, let go. Please,” Laenor asked desperately. He feared that at any moment a guard would walk in and you would end up having an audience with the king for disturbing the princess in the middle of her birth and attacking her sworn shield. The worst thing is that he saw you capable in your state of the fury of telling Viserys to rot for pretending not to know what was happening right under his nose, how his grandson was a bastard: "It's not worth getting in trouble for them. Please release him. If the king and queen find out about this…

He stopped talking when he watched you loosen your grip on Harwin carelessly causing his head to hit the floor. Laenor couldn't help but grimace at the noise. He had to have pushed you away instantly because you once again grabbed Harwin by the hair, lifting his head and then slamming it back onto the floor. This time when you let go, Laenor took the opportunity to lift you up and left Rhaenyra's chambers with you on his shoulder while you shouted curses in Valyrian.

They hadn't even reached the end of the hallway when Laenor stopped, a few seconds passed before he put you down. But you understood his reaction when you saw his father standing in front of you. He was looking at you angrily and again you felt like you were a little girl getting into trouble running away from your babysitters. Laenor must have felt your anguish because he took your hand and intertwined your fingers like he used to do when you were children and you were both scolded, not only that but he put his body in front of yours.

"Did you expect me to stand by and do nothing while they humiliated me?" you questioned your father once he finished scolding you and Laenor. During all of Corlys's talk, your brother didn't let go of your hand and you loved him more than ever for it. He could have avoided witnessing this, he could have left you alone but he didn't. Your brother wasn't to blame for your attitude but he was still scolded for not being firm enough to stop you before making a scene. You were sure that if Laenor had excused himself, your father wouldn't have bothered to scold him later.

"You humiliated yourself," he declared. It didn't matter that he had been ranting for what felt like hours he was still angry.

His words were like a slap. Unconsciously you tried to make yourself smaller in your seat as you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. He is your father, he should be on your side, he should be furious with Rhaenyra and Harwin, not you. He should be shouting and defending your honor. But instead, he's yelling at you.

You remained silent without knowing how to respond, feeling small, pathetic, and humiliated under your father's gaze. Not being able to take it anymore you lowered your head looking at your lap. You didn't like feeling like this, you hated it.

You loved your mom. It was a silly and childish thought but if she were here you believed she would take your side. She may not agree with your actions but she would never make you feel this way.

"Tomorrow the whole court will be talking about how you lost your mind, entering the princess's rooms and beating your husband," your father said making you feel worse. You had wanted to make a scene to get people talking but you thought it would be to your benefit, you thought the court would side with the poor faithful wife but maybe your father was right, maybe in the end you would be the one who would end up badly. Perhaps Rhaenyra and Harwin would not be the ones to make the Velaryons the laughingstock of the court but you. The pain in your throat worsened at that thought. "What if this reaches the king's ears?"

"That will not happen, Father," you were surprised by the firmness in your brother's voice. "Despite the distance between my sister and Rhaenyra. The princess still has great esteem for her and does not want to get her into trouble with the king. If Viserys decided to act and punish my sister that would only encourage people to talk more about the true paternity of Rhaenyra's children" he said as he gave your hand a squeeze hoping to get you out of whatever was scheming in your head knowing that it wouldn't. It must have been nothing good."Besides, I doubt people will think my sister is crazy. "The court will side with her after all it is normal to see a woman hurt by her husband's cheating."

"A maester had to see Harwin," Corlys reminded them with a frown.

"An accident. One of the maids dropped hot water and the idiot slipped and hit his head. It's his fault for being in the delivery bed when he shouldn't be" You couldn't help but laugh at the easy lie your brother made up. You wouldn't be surprised if there were people who believed her. Laenor turned to look at you with a smile, feeling satisfied to see that you were settling back down normally in your chair instead of trying to hide. "The only thing my sister did was go yell at her stupid husband for daring to snub her like that."

Before Corlys could say what he thought about it there was a knock on the door. After your father gave permission to enter a maid reported that Rhaenyra had given birth to a second son named Lucerys and that the three of you could now go and meet him.

"Come on Laenor, we have to meet the future lord of Driftmark," the Lord said once the maid left.

The fury you felt when you heard those words made you forget any feeling of smallness that your father caused you. You could allow your father many things but not this. You weren't going to stay silent while he took away your son's birthright and gave it to Rhaenyra's bastard. You knew that your father was an ambitious man and wanted to go down in history—that's why he had pushed you to spend time with Viserys as soon as Queen Aemma died and when you didn't become queen he made Laenor marry Rhaenyra even though he knew his preferences—but you never thought he would be able to deliver the legacy of your ancestors as if nothing had happened. It was insulting. This was outrageous.

When you least expected it, your father always found a new way to disappoint you.

"You can't be serious," you said, standing up abruptly from your chair while resting your hands on the desk.

"Please don't start again," your father said as if he was treating you like a tantrum child making your fury only grow even more. You could feel your blood heat up.

"He can't be Driftmark's heir," you said, emphasizing each word to get it into his head.

"He is the son of Laenor. It is his birthright"

"He is my son in name only," Laenor reminded him. He loved Jacaerys and was sure he would soon love Lucerys too, but he still knew he couldn't give any of them Driftmark. It would be an insult to Laena, to you, to his uncles and cousins.

“And why is that?” Corlys accused him. He didn't need to say any more words, the three of them knew that he blamed the lack of legitimate children on Laenor's preferences. You would think that after years your father would have accepted it by now.

“Driftmark belongs to Aethan,” you said, watching as Laenor clenched her hands into fists clearly frustrated, putting her attention back on you “He was born before Lucerys, it is his birthright” You tried hard not to raise your voice thinking that if You looked calm and confident. Your father could listen to you for once.

“You know perfectly well that the line of succession follows the lineage of Laenor.”

“That's the point,” you exclaimed. “Lucerys has no Velaryon blood and no offense to Laenor, but we all know you will never have descendants. "You turned when you saw your brother but he didn't look offended by your words so you turned your attention to your father "If Laenor doesn't have children then the line that follows is Laena's but she still doesn't have children so until that happens follow my line. Alyn was born first so he will have Harrenhall but Driftmark belongs to Aethan.”

“Lucerys will inherit Driftmark after Laenor,” your father stated as if he hadn't heard anything you said.

“He doesn't have Velaryon blood!” you argued, losing your patience, a part of you wanted to throw yourself at the desk and beat your father to the point of exhaustion. Maybe this way he would come to his senses.

“History does not remember blood, it remembers names”

Again he was looking at you like you were a little girl, like you were stupid and couldn't understand what she was talking about. But you understood, he was always going to care more about his ambition than his family. This time you did not hide from his gaze but instead took refuge in your fury.

Nightwing shouted angrily from the Dragon's Pit.

Slapped.

Your father looked at you in shock. You didn't feel guilt or regret, in fact, you felt satisfaction. You hoped the mark of your hand would remain on his face. You weren't going to apologize, he deserved it for choosing Rhaenyra and his bastard over you and your son, his own blood.

Laenor was the first to react, taking your arm and pulling you back and then standing in front of you, ready to protect you in case his father tried to do something to you. But you weren't afraid. Your father had never hit you before and you didn't think he would start doing it now, not when you were already a grown woman, not when you could still hear the furious screams of your dragon, not when you both knew that if he dared to touch you your mother wouldn't hesitate to feed him to Meleys

“Get her out of here,” Corlys ordered, regaining his patriarchal composure.

You broke free from your brother's grip. You didn't need an escort. You could go alone but you had one last thing to say. You expected this to torment him.

“You will be the one to ruin our name, you will make us a laughing stock if you leave that child as heir.”

Of course, your fury can't last forever. That's why when Larys entered through the secret passageway that your room had, he found you curled up in bed.

"Are you angry?" You turn your back on him as you feel him lift the sheets to get into the bed next to you.

Your voice was weak and unsure like you were afraid to know his answer. And Larys didn't like it.

"Just for not being able to see how you hit my brother" he replied and you wanted to laugh but it came out more like a sob making the look in Larys' eyes soften. If it was someone else they would find it annoying or feel uncomfortable but you are the exception. He just wanted to make your pain go away. "What happened?" he asked, ready to listen to you complain about Harwin and Rhaenyra.

"My father wants Lucerys Velaryon to be heir to Driftmark instead of Aethan" You turned around and dared to sneak into your lover's chest now that you knew he wasn't upset with you.

You took Larys by surprise because he didn't expect that to be the reason for your discomfort.

"That's not going to happen," he assured you as he gave you comforting strokes on your back. "Not many children make it to the age of two. Even if they do, they can always have an accident during their childhood. And if that doesn't happen, then we'll take care of Lucerys."

You should be horrified by what Larys just said and its implications. You should be scared at how calm he seems at the idea of murdering his own nephew but instead, you feel more in love with him. It's twisted but his words gave you comfort, knowing that you weren't alone in this, that you had someone on your side who was willing to do something so heinous just for you and so that your child would have his birthright. You and Larys must be crazy thinking about the death of a newlyborn baby. You're probably not as good a person as you thought and you don't know how to feel about it. You send a silent prayer to the gods and apologize for your thoughts because that's what a good person would do. You convince yourself that your fury is still poisoning your head and that's why you think of Lucerys dead. Your usual self would never think of that. How would you wish for the death of an innocent baby?

"We won't do anything," you say but both you and Larys can notice the lack of determination in your decision. But he's smart enough not to highlight it, it would only worsen your mood. "It's not Lucerys' fault that my father chose Rhaenyra over me," your voice breaks at the end and it seems like you're about to cry again.

"He didn't choose her, he chose the power he thinks she possesses," he said in an attempt to make you feel better.

"I'm sorry that your father disappointed you," he gently wiped your tears with his thumb. "But you don't need it. You have your siblings, and your mother and you have me. I'm always on your side."

At his last statement, you felt your heart warm up along with a sudden huge need to kiss him. So you obeyed your desire and leaned towards him and then captured his lips. You kissed him again and again, you tasted his lips as if it were the most exquisite wine you had ever tasted, but the thirst you felt for him did not seem to disappear.

"Be good and make me forget about today" you asked with heavy breathing.

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Only Ever You and Me

Prince!Bakugo x reader.

Part 2 of Till Death Do Us Part

After the wedding ceremony, you and Bakugo retired to your chambers for the night. He sat at the edge of the bed, faced away from you, his elbows on his knees as he tried coming to terms with everything.

He'd just gotten married. He'd just been wed... to you. He turned back to look at you, watching you as you sit by the large vanity by the windows, pulling at all the pins that held your hair up.

You seemed so calm with this, so at ease despite the fact that you'd just gotten married to a man you'd met no more than 3 times before. Despite the fact that you'd practically claimed ownership over him just moments ago, despite him confessing to you that he loved someone else.

Your possessiveness had thrust him into an unfamiliar playing field. He'd expected someone timid, meek, a woman whom he could intimidate into keeping shut whilst he snuck around with the maid.

But you? Frankly, you intimidated him instead.

He'd realised what he found off about how perfect and regal you seemed. Sure, there was the fact that you may have slight obsessive tendencies laying claim to him like that. But before then, he'd realised that you just intimidated him.

You were the perfect royal, the perfect ruler his people deserved. From all he'd seen about you; you could reassure people, play court so effectively, and you had an energy that made people want to serve you.

He watched, breath hitching as you stood and began untying the sashes that held your dress up, walking towards the divider at the other side of the room, where your wardrobe was.

Even the way you walked was perfect.

You were so... perfect.

The perfect queen for his people.

He frowned as he stood from the bed. He pulled off his coat, threw it into the hamper at the edge of his bed, and then pulled his undershirt over his head and did the same.

"I've been thinking..." he turned his head to face you as you stepped out from behind the divider, now dressed in a flimsy, pale nightgown stopping just below your knees.

"About what?" Bakugo asked harshly with furrowed brows as he sat back on the bed.

"That servant girl you were looking at." You say as you go over to the bed, sitting atop it, a few spaces away from him. "How long has it been going on?"

He frowns deeply at that, glaring at you. "Of what use is that information?"

You shrug, leaning over to him. "These women, you know.... what if she's keeping your child or something-"

"Excuse me?" He spits out, growing angry at your words. Not only had you called her 'this woman', but also insinuating that he'd father a child out of wedlock.

He had some honour, at least. He wouldn't do that to her, to his love. He wouldn't have her keep a child who couldn't even call him his father.

But you just scoff and roll your eyes. "Oh, please. I'm being cautious. I don't need some bastards contesting the crown with our sons when the time comes."

He glares, a brow raised. "Our sons? Contesting the crown? You're thinking too far ahead."

"Far ahead? There's no far ahead with us, Katsuki. We're husband and wife, we should think of our chil-"

"In paper only." He cuts you off. "We're wed on paper only. The history books? Paper. The marriage contracts? Paper! My heart will always be with someone else! With her! You? You're just a position. Even if not you, there would have been another princess for me to marry!"

His words have you glaring, and you're standing, facing him from the other side of the bed. "We've been promised to each other since birth. There is no other princess to marry, Katsuki. It has always been me for you, and you for me. I was always going to be the one you end up with."

There's a glint in your eye as you speak, a sternness and finality in your voice that has him faltering in imagining a reality where he wasn't married to you, as though there really was no one else for him.

"This- this thing you have with that woman is nothing. It's not real. But us? We have the opportunity to create something real, okay? We're married now. We have all our lives to learn to love each other!"

"You're delusional!"

"I'm real!" You yell out. "What's delusional is you going ahead to cultivate a romance with a girl you knew you'd never be with. You've always known you had to marry me, and yet you went ahead to start something with someone you could never have!"

You pause then, taking small breaths as you look at him. "I've always known I'd end up with you. So I didn't bother giving my heart to anyone else." You glare. "You think I'm delusional. But here you are, tricking yourself into believing you could ever be with anyone other than me. If that's not delusion, then tell me what is."

.

.

.

There's silence for several long moments. Bakugo's frozen, hands clenched by his side, chest heaving and lips parted.

You're right.

You're obviously right.

He's always known he would end up with you. He'd always known he'd have no one else but you. Yet he went ahead and started something he knew would have no end. There was no future for him and the other woman.

Because that's all she'd ever be.

The other woman.

The only one he could be with was standing right in front of him.

"I-" He tries to speak, tries to find the words to convey how he's feeling.

"You should send her away," you say as you climb into the bed, settling under the covers. "You'll only break your own heart, allowing her to continue to stay here."

You try to drift off to sleep, try to block out the sounds of Bakugo shuffling into the bed. Until he's pressed up against you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"What- what are you doing?" You whisper, still facing away from him.

But he just sighs into your neck and pulls you closer to him. "You're right," he murmurs into your skin. "It was only ever going to be me and you... there's nothing else it could have been."

You hum, letting yourself relax in his hold. He's warm, and he's big, his large frame practically folding over you.

"I'll send her away," he says softly, pressing his lips to your neck.

"Good," you murmur, letting your hand rest over his on your stomach. "It'll only be you and me."

And he nods, "Only you and me, my wife."

[elizabethsproctor]

then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” i said, “art sure no craven,"

Davos Blackwood x Bracken OC Davos is the eldest son of Lord Samwell of House Blackwood and the scourge of all the knights and squires of House Bracken. Though he thinks himself a knight and concerned with duty and honor, he spends most of his free time with his own squires, tormenting all the Brackens that they happen upon. Celeste Feathers is the bastard daughter born of Amos Bracken and a Summer Isle whore. At the chance of a higher dowry for her daughter, the baby was sent to live with her father in the wet and windy Riverlands until a husband was chosen for her. Though the two had a chance encounter as children, they have only heard stories about each other in the meantime until one fateful day near the boundary line in the forest. wc: 4k chapter: 1/?

tw: hinting at sa

"Since when do the Bracken's send their women past the boundary stones? And so close to sunset at that? Miserable and ignorant old bastards. You're in the woods, my lady, or do they not teach you maidens about the dangers of crossing into Blackwood territory?"

Celeste turned around sharply, not expecting to have heard the voice of another that late into the evening, but she knew the danger at once.

"They teach us fairly well, good knight," Celeste said, feeling her hip to see that her dagger was still sheathed. "The assize permitted this land to my house. You know that." She searched the young man's face, trying to decide who he was before determining that he was the lord's son. She took a few steps back, prepared to run if he would accost her.

Davos grinned, the dim light of the setting sun catching his canine teeth.

"Assize." He mocked, mimicking the girl’s high tone. "What a perfect, little Lady you are... If not, you certainly speak the part like a good little highborn."

The young lord took a few steps forward, his hand upon the pommel of his sword. The blade had been passed down from his father to him not so long ago, and it felt like a boast.

"You're quite a feisty little minx, aren't you?"

Celeste tightened the grip on her dagger and stared the boy back in his eyes. "You don't scare me, Davos," she said with fervor. "And you don't have your squires to applaud you, little pup. Back down, and I may forget your insults."

She knew she didn’t have much ground to stand on, but she wasn’t sure that Davos knew that. The sun was sinking, and she had been out adventuring. In truth, she wasn’t sure where the boundary lines ended and began within the woods, and she knew, in truth, that even if she told anyone within her court that Davos had maligned her, she would only be punished in return. Why was she in the woods? Alone? At night? 

Celeste was but only the bastard daughter of Lord Amos Bracken and a woman from the Summer Isles. She was sheltered, but treated well… as well as a bastard would be treated, especially one with a deep caramel complexion and a stature that rivaled other men her age. It was clear she was different, and though no one had ever said anything to her face, not even her father’s wife, it was evident by one look into the reflection of the river. 

Davos' cocky grin faltered for a brief moment as he noted the dagger at her hip, and her determination. He was not used to people, particularly women talking back to him, and he felt a strange stir in his chest.

"Is that so, Lady Celeste?" He mocked her tone once again. "You're a bit of a vixen, you know... I admire your confidence, though you might want to be more careful of who you talk to like that. After all, you're far from the safety of your little stone towers... Not to mention you're alone."

"I am alone, Davos, but you are also alone with me," Celeste shrugged, not daring to meet the boy with a grin, as he would mistake it for kindness. She looked over his face. It wasn't one she had seen for some time up close. She wondered if he remembered her from when they were younger. A small scuffle past the boundary line. Davos had been breaking up a fight or perhaps cheering one on between a Blackwood and a Bracken, and Celeste had come tumbling in to break it up herself, and shockingly, Davos had called for order-- no blood to be splattered on the lady's 'pretty yellow dress'.

She had balled her fists. The dress was orange. He had known that.

That had to have been ten years ago, and had they grown in that time! He was handsome, a pair of crooked teeth and shaggy hair. Still as annoying as ever, as annoying as the squires of House Bracken spoke of him being, but she had only seen him from a distance after so many years, but she remembered him. No one else had the radiating cockiness that he did.

"What, good knight? Will you retrieve your father to deal with me? Twenty lashings for  reprimanding his puppy?"

The young Blackwood lord's eyes widened for a moment, and the smirk he wore wavered for the briefest of moments as he noted the familiarity in her gaze, and it suddenly clicked into place. That fiery little girl in that stupidly orange dress, back before the wars had started. He couldn’t have forgotten that it was her, but it had slipped from his mind that it had even happened. He had been knocked on his ass… so many times. Gods, he could practically remember the angry look on her face!

"That seems excessive, wouldn’t you say?" He chuckled, taking another step forward. "After all, it is just us... and I'm curious."

"Curious about what," Celeste retorted, noticing Davos closing the gap. She did him the favor and stepped forward as well, only about a yard between them. It was far enough that she could step back and run if he retrieved his knife.

Davos tilted his head to the side as if he was studying a particularly curious animal, and stepped even closer, until the two were almost chest to chest.

"Merely that a fine young lady such as yourself would be so boldly passing the stones." He said, his smirk returning. "I'm quite surprised your father hasn't locked away that feisty tongue of yours."

Celeste shook her head slightly. If only the man had tried. It was known about the castle that Celeste had… masculine proclivities. She liked to climb and hike and sneak away when the maidens did their work, and perhaps that had done little to endear her to the ladies of the court. But what she had gained in the meantime was courage and diplomacy. Neither of these things granted her a stick between the legs however, and she was still looked down on, perhaps even further for her attempts to raise herself up. 

"Ah," she snickered for the first time, pointing a finger to his chest. "Would you prefer to have found me if I was a fine young man?" It was a joke on his sexuality, something to menace him. Celeste was beautiful, but strange to the men in the realm. At least that far north. They often looked at her as if they could not touch her, and maybe because of her father, they couldn't.

"I'm surprised your father hasn't put down his rabid dog, Davos. Let me go. This conversation bores me. Will we go back and forth on who has the better wit or will you send your hounds to strike me down for crossing the boundary? What do you wish for? The sun is sinking."

Despite the fact that every fiber in his body was burning with the desire to knock her on her ass for her insolence, Davos' only outward response was an eye roll.

"You little-"

The young lord took another step forward, and in a surprise move, gripped her hip and backed her into a large oak tree.

"I've a better question for you, you little minx. Does your father know that his little princess is prancing alone in the forests, so close to nightfall?"

Celeste felt her feet trip beneath her as the boy pushed her onto the tree. He had already been taller than her, but now he hovered over her by a great amount. She straightened her back again, getting as close to eye level as she could, her cloak tugging on the bark behind her back.

She was confused, though exhilarated, but fear began to pulse through her body when she felt how strong he was compared to her. There was no way to run if he truly threatened her.

"I am not hopeless," she spat out. "He needs not know about my actions, because he knows I am a weapon in my own right. You should unhand me, Davos. I  might forget this," she squirmed.

"A weapon are you? Is that so?"

Davos chuckled as he watched as  the young girl squirmed, and leaned in closer to her, using his free hand to grip the other side of the tree, trapping her completely. He was close enough to her now that he could feel her breath on his skin.

"Is this how you're going to defend yourself, Lady Celeste? Squirming and wiggling like a little fish on a hook?"

"You're craven," she shook her head, looking at the boy and shaking her head. "The sun is setting, and they'll be looking for me before they even think of you."

The grin on Davos' face only widened further, and he leaned his head down so his mouth was mere centimeters from the shell of her ear.

"And who is 'they', my lady..?" He asked her in a low voice, his breath warm as it cascaded over her skin. "Surely you don't think that I'd let you go so easily, do you?"

"You're as stupid as you are ugly," Celeste said, pushing against the boy's chest though he hardly budged. She couldn't believe his audacity, but at the end of the day, he had more status than she did. He was a man. And legitimately born.

"Do as you wish, but don't waste my time, you moron. I'm not scared. Release me or get on with it."

Davos chuckled at her attempt to push him away, and instead pressed closer against her, caging her against the rough bark of the tree. His hand slid from her hip to her waist, and he leaned in even further, his body pressed against hers.

"Ugly..?" He repeated the word as if it was a curse, his eyes narrowing. "And I'm the stupid one, eh? You've sure got a mouth on you... No wonder nobody wants you, little minx."

Celeste hadn't been looking at the boy for some time, but at his words, her brown eyes sunk back into his gaze and a flash of vulnerability played on her face. The rest had just been banter... but how could he know that? Or say it? It wasn't true.

She thought for a few seconds then scoffed. "You're set on making this personal," Celeste tilted her head back onto the tree, catching the sunlight, knowing it would soon be gone.

"I could knee you in the most private of parts at this exact moment and end our tryst, my lord. Why toy with me?"

Celeste thought about her mother in the Summer Isles and wondered if she would ever see her. Everything could be taken away in a second due to the Blackwood boy, but it had never really been given before, had it? Soft, white beaches and cyan water for the cold, damp wet of the Riverlands for less than her weight in gold, and who would marry her? Perhaps she didn’t care that Davos had her in that position. Was it not what she deserved for not knowing her place?

Celeste sighed, her cool breath brushing against the boy’s nose.

The young lord chuckled once again at her defiant demeanor, admiring how his words had gotten under her skin. He had not expected the flicker of vulnerability he had briefly seen in her eyes, though he filed the information away for future reference.

"You could do that, couldn't you..?" He mused, his hand on her hip tightening its grip. "But you won't, will you? If you were truly not scared, you would have already."

"I don't wish to maim you, Davos. I know a great man such as yourself would lose every birthright given to you if you had no balls in which to populate the Riverlands," she gave a small and annoying smirk and pushed against his chest again. "I'm no villain."

Davos couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped his lips. Damn it, she really was sassy. Her insolence was not something he was used to, and he wasn't sure if wanted to knock her down a peg, or pin her against the tree and kiss her.

"Damn it all.."

He muttered under his breath, his hands moving to circle her petite wrists, pinning them above her head against the trunk of the tree.

"You're doing this to me, you know that? All bark, no bite."

"I'm sure you will do what you will,' Celeste said, looking at her hands above her head and realizing there was not much else she could do at the time being. "But answer me a question first. Truthfully."

Davos chuckled as Celeste finally seemed to realise that there was no escape from his grip, and he leaned in so his face was directly in front of hers.

"A question, eh? I'll answer truthfully, depending on the question." He told her, his gaze flicking from her face down to her chest as her top strained against the position he'd put her in.

"Just now. You said 'no wonder nobody wants you'," she lifted her chin, recognizing she was showing her insecurity to someone who could surely use it against her. She did not want to look weak however, she made eye contact with him all the while. "What would come upon you to say that? What whispers have you heard across the river, puppy?"

Davos was a little surprised at her sudden display of genuine feeling, and for a moment his own words seemed tasteless and callous. He had said them purely in an attempt to needle her further, not to actually hurt her.

He leaned his head down so their faces were almost touching, and his voice was low as he responded.

"Perhaps I knew what someone of your position must keep themselves up at night regarding..."

His gaze wandered back down to her chest, where it lingered for a moment before flicking back up to her face.

".. or I am no fool, and I hear the lads of both houses talk."

"The lads of both houses," she snickered, her arms shaking under the pressure of her wrists. "The lads of one of those houses are beneath me. My father's knights," she rolled her eyes, almost in disbelief. "Does no man pledge fealty in this age?" She could feel hot tears of vengeance, sadness and irritation on her eyes. She should have been much more upset that the boy had her in the most uncomfortable and unfortunate positions, but instead she could only think of how grateful she was to him for telling her what she had always suspected: that she would never truly be accepted in the riverlands, not even in her father's home.

"Well, Davos," she said finally, looking at the boy with a shrug. "Thank you for that. My trust in you is now without question." Silence.

Davos' eyes widened at her response, and he could immediately see that his words had had a much greater effect than he'd imagined. A frown tugged at his lips as he realized he'd made her cry. He'd never wanted to see a woman cry in his life, and the thought that he had made this strange, sassy little girl shed tears twisted a knife into his gut.

"I-"

He struggled for words for only a moment, and his grip on her wrists loosened, though he did not let her go completely.

".. I did not intend to upset you, Celeste."

She stared at him without saying anything for some time before a frown appeared on her lips as well. As brave as she was, she was still young, childlike even. A woman masquerading as someone free, a foreigner masquerading as someone home, and a bastard pretending she wasn't the embarrassment of the Riverlands.

It was moments like these that brought her back to earth; the fantasy was exposed. She could not defend herself or her honor nor would she ever be able to. It felt right to acquiesce to his hands, and she and Davos both knew, even if she told others of his misdeeds, no harm would come to him. She was nobody.

"Do you remember me from when we were children?" She said with some sentimentality, her head drooping.

When she spoke again, a wave of nostalgia washed over Davos as he was transported back to those carefree days of childhood, so many years ago. The memory of her yellow dress and the smirk on her face was so clear in his mind.

"I do," he murmured, the tension between them lessening slightly. "You came tumbling out of the trees, in that ridiculous yellow dress, and broke up something I shouldn't have been participating in."

"The boys were older," she said, only suddenly remembering. She had been so brave, a small smirk spread onto her face. Of course, Davos and her had been little as well, but he was a lord. They bent the knee to him.

"The dress was orange," she said, shaking her head. "You knew that. A cunt even then, you were."

Hearing her speak of her childhood act of bravery, and the confidence in her voice when it had happened, sent a strange pang stabbing through Davos' chest that he had never felt before.

When she corrected him on the color of the dress, he chuckled softly, and rolled his eyes. "Of course I knew it was orange, you imbecile. I just said it was yellow to rile you up. I've always liked riling you up."

Celeste felt her stomach turn. Perhaps she shouldn't have felt that way. Flattered by his words. Flattered by him remembering her from all that time ago, spending the extra time to bother her. To even take note of her. She got such little attention, and when she did, it was scorn, though occasionally, and a glimmer in her father's eye and gifts from her mother every few years. She knew her father loved her, but how could he possibly dote any affection upon the proof of his infidelity? He loved her in secret and carved small trinkets for her, smiled while she was scolded for playing with her brother's arrows.

All that though, all those small grievances, or tiny reminders that she was, indeed, alive, were overshadowed by the attention that an enemy had the ability to dote. Anything was better than apathy, and had he, really, gained as much by teasing her then as he did not, with the print of his cock nearly embedded into her gown? She shook her head at the boy and laughed.

"Let me go, Davos. There's no reason for this."

The laugh that escaped her lips sent a shiver down Davos' spine, and he realized that he liked hearing her laugh, even if it was at his expense.

He shifted slightly, slowly releasing her from the grip he had her trapped in against the tree with, although he didn't completely drop his hands from her.

"No reason for this, eh?" He repeated, his tone holding the same cockiness from before. "If I let you go, what's to stop you from running back to daddy?"

"I will go home, it's growing dark, but," she thought for a second, but the second couldn’t have been filled with anything intelligent or worthy. She looked at his hands on her waist. She took a gulp and sighed. "I can meet you here again... overmorrow. If you'd like it."

Davos tilted his head slightly as she spoke, his fingers drumming gently against her hip until she mentioned meeting again the evening after next.

A smirk slowly spread across his face and he stepped forward, closing the gap he had created between their bodies when he had released her.

"And how do I know you will come back?" He wondered, his tone mocking. "For all I know you could run straight to daddy and tattle on me."

"I might run home and tell on you," Celeste shrugged. "What would be the difference? Do you think they'd raise an army in my name? Why do you jest? You've already humbled me enough this evening, you don't think?"

"Tch,"

Davos scoffed at her response and rolled his eyes once again. He could not deny that he had been having too much fun riling her up, and he was almost reluctant to see her go.

"You're a strange little vixen, you know that? One second you're defiant, next second you're giving in and agreeing to meet me again."

"I guess I could be planning to bring my half-brothers along with me to slay you where you stand and put your cock and balls in my hand as tribute," she said, only inches away from his lips. She smirked.

Davos' eyes widened for only a moment before an almost maniacal grin appeared on his face.

"By the Gods, I knew you were feisty, but I didn't think you were that much of a savage."

He chuckled heartily and leaned in towards her, his nose almost touching hers.

"You wouldn't harm a hair on my head, little vixen. I know you like me too much for that."

"Like is not the word," Celeste said, pulling her head away from the boy and placing it as close to the edge of the tree as possible to avoid accidentally kissing him. She wouldn't mind it, but on her own terms.

She wanted a night to think about her decisions. The blood under her skin was fooling her; he was her sworn enemy, a snake, and a wolf in sheep's clothing, but he had told her the truth when no one else in her life had ever dared to begin. And his crooked, crooked teeth. They were so reminiscent of their childhood encounter, it made her heart twinge in nostalgic pain.

"I will see you in two nights, Davos, and if I'm not here," she gestured behind her with her head. "You do know where I sleep."

Davos pouted slightly as she pulled away from him, not letting their faces touch like he had intended. He wanted to close that last final gap between them and pin her back against the trunk of the tree, press his body into hers and taste those sweet lips.

He was sure she wanted it too, underneath all of her insolence.

"If you're not here, eh? And what is to stop me from sneaking into your room and... forcing you?"

"Guards. And knights. And townspeople by the hundred. You think they don't know your houndish little face?" Celeste shook her head, the sun only a few minutes from setting. "You had your time to finish me here, and you wasted it with your petty remarks, doggy. You will see me or you won't, but this opportunity is gone. I must go."

Davos bared his teeth at her mocking tone, but he knew she was right. He had had her trapped against the tree, he could have done whatever he wanted, but instead, he had used his time taunting her instead.

"Very well," he said finally, and he released her completely, taking a step back. His eyes raked across her figure before they met her eyes again.

"I expect to see you here tomorrow night, little vixen. Don't keep me waiting."

"Two nights," she repeated. "I said two." The forest floor was already growing dim as she backed away, starting a small jog before the boy could grab her again to argue. She needed time to think, and perhaps some time for him to want her.

"Two nights!" Davos called after her as she started to dart away. He knew he could easily reach out and tug at the hood of her cloak and pull her back to him, but he decided to let her go. For now.

He stood there, under the tree, long after she disappeared from his sight. There was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest that he had never felt before, and he spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what it was.

[asumofwords]

So this is a rquest. Aemond and his niece got bethroted but shes not happy about it. So, to tease him in hopes of him putting an end to their bethrotal, she starts flirting with every lord, guard or men that she finds attractive on the Red Keep. But, one night, she takes things to another level and sneaks out to a party at Flea Bottom and hes the one who finds her dancing on top of a table and, even if its a sight to be seen(thats what the men watching her with hungry eyes think too), he finally snaps and drags her out of there into a private place where some dubcon smutty action happens ;). With him telling her "if you want to act like a whore, ill treat you like a whore".

A/N: Oooooh, juicy. Thanks for the request!!! I honestly love the idea of giving Aemond a run for his money haha. I love seeing a man become feral. I hope you enjoy hehe.

Unsought Betrothal

TW: Dark!Aemond, 18+, Noncon, Dubcon, Aemond being a cunt, forced marriage.

Words: 6k

Pairings: Aemond X Reader, Cregan Stark X Reader

Your betrothal to the One-Eyed Prince was a shock you. 

Alicent had insisted that you marry your uncle in order to strengthen the bonds of your divided house, and your mother Rhaenyra was all too eager to agree. Despite the relationship of the two women having soured over the years, and efforts to rekindle it beginning, you could not say the same for Aemond. 

As a child, Aemond had been quiet, dutiful and albeit awkward, kind. Not quite fitting in, and baring the brunt of your brothers and other uncles bullying. Yet, underneath his quiet demeanour, was a simmering rage and vicious jealousy.

Lords and Ladies from all over the realm had come to join you this evening in the Red Keep to celebrate the engagement of the Velaryon Princess to the Targaryen Prince. The Hall was lined with tables and chairs, food piled high on gold and silver plates and goblets of wine and mead held in every persons hands. Music played loudly, and the overall mood of the room was happiness.

Except for you.

You sat at the table, watching the Court converse with each other, laughing loudly, and others dancing in the middle of the room as music played from the corner. All wore their finest gowns and silks, necks and fingers dripping with gold and jewels.

Aemond sat beside you stiffly, having not tried to converse with you as he simply observed the room of guests, goblet in his hand with a spiced wine from Dorne within. 

You sipped heavily from your goblet as you watched the celebrations, wishing for them to end so that you may disappear into your chambers, and enjoy the last few moments of solitude that you may have before you are wed to the Prince. 

How terribly dull. 

You had begged your mother to not allow this to go forward, to not accept the betrothal, but she refused. It was a way to prevent a war, she had told you, and that she had not been allowed to marry who she had wanted to either. 

And so you bit your tongue, and did what your mother bid you to do.

Sighing loudly, you pulled the goblet up to your lips, drinking the rest of the spiced wine quickly, feeling it leave a warm path down your throat as you swallowed. It settled in your stomach, and the buzz from drinking that evening began to rise. 

You turned your head to look at your uncle, “Are you going to ask me to dance?” 

Only the slightest, most imperceptible movement of his head, allowed you to know that he had heard you. You stared at the profile of his face, his sharp nose and face accentuated by the candle lit room. 

“Hm.”

The least he could do was dance with you, to pretend that he wanted you. To pretend that he cared for your happiness. You both had gotten along when you were younger, but when Lucerys took his eye, he had become most bitter and spiteful, always looking at ways to take it out on you.

Aemond would openly call you a bastard, trip you over and sneer at you. He would make comments about your hair, and dresses, your brothers and your father.

He made your life hell.

Standing abruptly you slammed the cup onto the table and shoved your chair backwards, before walking down into the space where everyone was dancing, leaving your betrothed to sit at the table with your family in silence.

Bodies weaved around each other and smiles lit up the room. The Lords and Ladies parted like the sea, to allow you to dance with them all, their hands coming up to their partners before spinning back around. 

As they made room for you, you were stood in front of Lord Cregan Stark.

Cregan was who you had hoped to be wed to, in fact who you had begged your mother to wed you to. You had heard nothing but praise about the man; of his bravery, of his loyalty, and of course his handsome looks. He had dark brown hair, almost black atop his head, it was lightly curled and sat just below his ears. 

He wore all black that evening, and the way his clothes fit his body made you want him all the more. As you looked at him he smiled, teeth showing as he bowed before offering you a hand. 

“Congratulations on your betrothal, Princess.” He spoke to you above the sounds of the music and people around you, as you held onto his hand and danced.

“Thank you, My Lord. You are too kind.” You blushed, as his hand came to hold at your shoulder. So respectfully.

“You have travelled far for such an occasion.” You noted.

“Of course, Princess. Who wouldn’t want to see such an event. And meet the famed Rose of the Red Keep.” You felt his hand come to the middle of your back, as you moved. 

The wine coursed through your veins as you spun again, feeling a burning sensation on your skin. As you looked up, you saw Aemond watching you and Cregan dancing, one eye narrowed and his lips pursed into a hard line. 

Perhaps you didn’t have to go through this marriage after all…

“I had hoped this would have been for us.” You purred, voice low so that only he could hear.

Cregan almost paused as he looked at you, dark brown eyes searching your face.

“You mock me, Princess.”

“I assure you, I don’t. I had asked my mother to betroth me to you. Though, she thought my uncle would be more advantageous. It is… tradition.”

The Stark did not answer you, instead his hand moved further down your black dress, settling on your lower back as you moved. You pulled apart from him, glancing up to see if Aemond was still watching.

He was.

“Would you mind accompanying me to get a drink, My Lord? I find that my feet are beginning to become tired, and I am thirsty for more wine.”

Lord Cregan bowed his head in acknowledgement, and led you through the crowd to the tables on the side. Picking up a goblet, you poured yourself a full cup, turning to face the dark haired man before thrusting the cup out to him to sip from first. 

His large hand brushed over yours and you felt heat pull through you. He pulled the cup to his lips and sipped, before talking.

“If I had known about your intentions for me, I would have rode here sooner.”

His voice was as smooth as butter, and you felt yourself drawn to him.

You felt that watchful eye on you still, burning into the side of your face.

“Or maybe I will have to ride back to Winterfell with you.” You stepped away from the table and closer to Cregan, pulling the cup form his hand, sipping the wine heavily as you slipped up to whisper in his ear.

“I heard that Starks never break an oath.” You let your lips graze his ear, and you felt the man pull in a breath, deep into his chest.

“We don’t.”

“That is… impressive.” You purr leaning back to look at him again, “So if we were to marry, and to speak our vows, you would honour them?”

“Would you?”

“One flesh,” You placed a hand on his chest above his heart, “One heart, one soul, now and forever.” You smiled at him. 

As you moved to lean closer to him, to invite him to follow you, to ensure people would witness you leave with him, to embarrass Aemond so that Alicent would annul the betrothal, you heard your name.

Both you and Cregan turned your head to see Aemond himself, standing beside you, eye glaring at your hand upon the Stark mans chest. Cregan took a step back, nodding his head at your betrothed.

“My Prince.” 

Aemond did not even spare the Lord a glance, nor even an amused, aggravated or bored hum like he usually did. He simply stared at you, and where your hand now hung limply by your side. 

“Come.” Aemond challenged you.

“Why?” You snipped back, turning to look at Cregan who stood where he was, looking all the more uncomfortable.

“You wished to dance.”

“Not anymore. I am tired.”

“Then I will accompany you to your chambers.”

“No thank you. I can walk myself.”

Aemond then turned his attention to the man who still stood beside you both, watching the stiff interaction.

“Do you have intentions to bed my betrothed?” Aemond questioned, as though he was asking about the weather. Tone all too uninterested, but lone eye bright with that quiet simmering rage.

“No, My Lord. We were merely talking.”

“Hm. Excuse us, we have much to talk about.” 

Aemond wasn’t asking.

Cregan nodded at your uncle before back at you, “Of course.” Before he turned back away and into the sea of people celebrating behind you. You watched, eyes wide and rage building inside, as your uncle stood in front of you were Cregan had.

“I see what you’re doing.”

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about, Aemond.”

“Hm.”

“Excuse me, I have to finish my conversation.” You pushed to try and walk past him, back into the crowd.

Aemond’s hand grabbed your arm as you moved to follow Cregan back into the crowd, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of your arm.

“Let go of me.” You grunted, as you tried to yank your arm from his grip.

Aemond turned his head away from you, looking to the far wall where Ser Criston Cole stood. The man caught the Princes eyesight before coming towards you.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” You growled, hand roughly pulling the One-Eyed Princes fingers backwards and off of you.

Ser Cole stood beside you, ever the dog of the Hightower’s.

“Please escort the Princess back to her chambers. She has had enough wine for the evening.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Ser Criston bowed, his brown eyes looking at your face expectantly. 

“No. I’m not going. These are my celebrations. And I am celebrating.” You snapped. Trying once more to weave your way into the crowd, finding Cregan’s gaze on yours as he watched the scene play out. 

“Don’t think you can whore yourself out to these Lords without me knowing.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hm.”

You snatched your arm away from his, before walking away from him back to the large table where you all sat. Alicent watched you anxiously as you sat back down, anger rolling off of you in waves, whilst your mother watched on in exacerbation. 

You spent the rest of the evening sitting at the table, not speaking to anyone else, watching Cregan from across the room, and feeling the gaze of your uncle as he observed you from your side.

You grew tired and restless from the celebrations and eventually excused yourself, bidding the table a curt good night before leaving the Hall and making for your chambers. The further you got from the Hall, the quieter the hallways became, until all that you could hear was the distant laughter and chatter of the court, celebrating an already doomed marriage. 

As you reached the end of another corridor that led to your chambers, you heard quickened steps on the stone floors behind you. Clasping your hands at your front you turned, expecting to see an angry Aemond, hot on your tails to berate you for the evenings events. 

What you did not expect was Cregan Stark, rapidly approaching you, hair wild and smile wide. His cheeks were a soft pink from the alcohol and likely the brisk pace he made to catch up with you.

“My Lord?”

“Please, call me Cregan.”

“Cregan.” You smiled, “Are you alright?”

The tall man stepped forward in a rush, his large palms coming to grab each side of your face before pulling you hurriedly into a chaste kiss, his lips pressing roughly against yours. He pulled away just as soon as they touched.

You smiled at him, stomach doing flips, heat crawling up your neck.

“Some Lords and my men will be going down to Flea Bottom on the morrows eve. Join us.” He asked, voice rushed.

Your smile only widened.

“Where?” You asked, looking behind him to make sure that no one else was listening.

“At the White Stag. Say you will come.”

“I will.”

Cregan’s smile made your heart warm. 

“Until the morrow. Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight.”

The next day went by slowly, as you anxiously waited on night to fall, and for you to leave the Keep to sneak down to Flea Bottom to the White Stag, where you would meet with Lord Cregan Stark. 

You had avoided Aemond like you usually did, opting to stay hidden in the gardens or your own chambers away from him, planning what to wear in your head mentally all day. 

Soon the moon rose high in the sky, and you had your maids prepare you for bed, bringing a bath to your chambers, letting you soak in the hot water, scented with fragrant oils.  

They could not leave your chambers sooner, and after you had finished your meal alone and had your hair brushed, you slipped into your bed and closed your eyes, pretending to be tired so that the maids would leave sooner.

As you heard the chamber doors close, you shot up out of bed, discarded the chemise over your head before throwing one of your black gowns on. Although you struggled to lace it yourself, you still succeeded. You pulled a large black cloak from your closet and pulled the hood over your head before placing a hand on the face of a painting. With strength you pushed the painting backwards, revealing a hidden pathway behind, one that you and your siblings and uncles had used as children, and one in which, you knew your mother had used in the past too. 

Shutting the path door behind you, you slunk down the passageway, winding your way through the Keep, and then finally descending down large steps to Flea Bottom below.  

As you reached the small city, the streets were lined with people and noise, drinks were being drunk, songs being sung and even performances in squares were watchers looked on at puppet shows and plays. 

You wound your way through the streets, not entirely sure of where you were going. That was when you felt anxiety. You did not even know where you were, or how to get there. Or what even the White Stag looked like. You looked behind you and noticed that you couldn’t even remember what way you came. 

Before you could let the anxiety overwhelm you, you felt a warm hand placed on your shoulder.

“Princess.” Came the smooth timber of Cregan Stark. 

You smiled at the man who stood before you. Dressed in dark brown leathers with his hair brushed backwards out of his face, bar one lone curl that hung down from his forehead.

“You look lost.” He joked.

You huffed a relived laugh, “Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t?”

“Not one bit.”

“Well, you'd best lead the way.”

The White Stag was a large inn, with stone flooring and walls, exposed wood detailing and low light coming from candles and a large fireplace. The windows were adorned with rich red curtains, and tables and chairs sat strewn amongst the space. As soon as you stepped inside, the air changed. It was hot, bodies were everywhere as they laughed and sang and even danced. Women sat atop mens laps or sang loudly as they stood nearby. 

Cregan sat you down at a table that was full of men, you assumed also from the North, with three to four women standing beside, or leaning against them. Most ignored you as you sat, a large pint of mead being placed in your hand, as Cregan sat beside you. Turning his chair to face you fully, as you looked at each other. 

“So, I have been thinking about what you said last night.” He spoke loudly over the sound of the inn. 

“What did I say?” You teased.

“About oaths.”

“Oh, I think remember.”

“I thought of something else.”

“And that is?”

“Oi Cregan, who’s the girl?” Came a booming voice of a man across the table. His skin was pale and dotted in freckles, almost like constellations. He had short dark hair and piercing green eyes. Before Cregan could answer for you, you replied.

“Y/n.”

The man tilted his head. “Has the Princess lost her way?” He teased, smirk rising on his face. 

“Leave her be, Dustin.” Cregan lightly warned the man, which only seemed to spark his interest more.

“So you are the Princess then. Where’s your husband?” Dustin asked, thick accent curling his r’s, as he looked behind you.

“I’m not married.”

“Ah, but you are betrothed.”

You sipped heavily form your drink. 

“Not for a lack of trying. I had hoped to have that betrothal annulled. Do you have a spare horse?”

Dustin’s brow furrowed as he looked at you, then to Cregan beside you who laughed.

“You lost your dragon?”

“No, but I think the North would be far too cold for him. Plus, easily spotted.” You smirked, sipping again before turning your attention back to Cregan.

“So, what else had you thought of?” You inquired.

Stark smiled down at you as he shifted his chair closer, the sound of the wood scuffing on the stone below catching in your ears.

“Thought about oaths that I would make to you.”

“And what would those be?” You leant in closer, hand coming to touch his thigh.

“I would swear to honour you.”

“Go on.” You urged him.

“I would swear to give myself to you fully.”

“And?”

“I would swear to ensure that you never hunger or thirst for naught.”

“For naught?” You ask, heat building inside of you as you drank. 

Cregan smirked in response.

“And what if I told you that I was starved?” You asked.

“Are you?”

“Of a sort.” You let your hand crawl higher up his leather clad thigh, the muscles rippling under your touch. 

“Then I would have to work to fix that.” He smirked.

As the night continued, you and Cregan sat closer and closer to one another until your knees were brushing against each other. Dustin watched on shamelessly as a woman sat upon his lap, long slender fingers brushing against his neck as she spoke quietly into his ear. 

The night was filled with the laughter and joy you had hoped for last evening. Ale was spilt upon wooden table tops and floors, as men and women began to sing louder and dance upon tables and chairs. Before long, the woman who had seated herself upon Dustin pulled you up with her, onto the table to dance. 

You let her grasp your hand, as you laughed, looking back at an amused Cregan and and even more amused Dustin, as you pulled up your skirts to jump atop a large table, where four others had begun to stamp their feet and sing loudly to a song you had never heard. A sea shanty tale. 

You let the ale guide your body as you twisted and danced, laughing loudly with the woman, who you learnt was named Sara. Her long auburn hair glowed in the light as you leant on each other to dance, one hand still tightly grasped in your skirts to keep them from ripping beneath your feet. 

Cregan’s icy eyes watched your movements as you let a hand trail up the bodice of your dress, watching him with intent as you swayed. Stark leant back in his chair, legs widening, with one arm leaning upon the table as Sara placed a soft kiss to your cheek in excitement. You felt a blush crawl over your cheeks. 

All eyes were on you, as the men watched you sway your hips, hands smoothing up your body in a slight tease. The ale making your movements bolder as you stared at Cregan, challenging him to take you somewhere more private, or if he so desired, there on that very seat.

Never before had you felt so desired.

As you bent forward to give the men a show of your cleavage, you felt the world tip suddenly, as a calloused hand ripped you from the table. Your ankle rolled sharply as you stumbled back onto the stone floor, iron grip bruising the soft flesh of your wrist. Your sight caught those of the table who watched you, no longer in a trance, stiffly. 

You turned your head to you assailant, finding one piercing purple eye and another sapphire watching you in distaste. Aemond’s lips were pulled down into a sneer and he held onto you tightly, three men from the Kings Guard behind him, as well as Ser Criston Cole. 

Cregan watched as Aemond towered over the both of you, looking down his nose as he watched in disgust, anger pouring from him in waves. And although he looked somewhat calm on the outside, you knew that this quietness was telling of Aemond’s simmering rage.  

“Do continue.” Aemond purred, pushing you roughly towards Cregan, your feet stumbling beneath themselves. 

“Don't-” You began before he interrupted you.

“-I think he was talking about fixing your hunger. Were you not, Lord Stark?” His one purple eye, boring a hole into Cregan's head.

Cregan did not answer, instead his jaw clenched. 

“No?” The One-Eyed Prince mused.

“Aemond, stop.” You hissed, ankle sore from the way you landed on it.

“But you seemed so content, dancing for these Northerners, niece. Continue.” 

“Fuck you. Craven.” You hissed, watching Aemond’s lip twitch upwards, before he looked back at Ser Cole.

“Ser Criston, have these men escorted to the edge of the city. I fear there has been treason this evening.”

Ser Cole and his men stepped forward, surrounding the table, as Cregan and his men looked up in shock. You looked at Cregan, wide eyed before turning back to Aemond.

“What? They did nothing wrong!” You began to panic.

“I fear there was a plot to tarnish your good name, Princess.” Aemond purred, snatching your arm painfully before beginning to pull you through the White Stag, and back out into the streets of Flea Bottom.

You dug your feet into the ground, trying to pull away from him, ignoring the slight pain of your ankle, but he was too strong for you, his bruising grip getting tighter the further he dragged you away.

“Stop! Let me go! They did nothing wrong!” You dug your fingers into his, trying to pry them away, but it was no use. He dragged you through Flea Bottom as onlookers watched.

You pulled a hand back, making a fist before you slammed it down onto his shoulder, “Get off!” You yelled.

Aemond stopped in his tracks, and you breathed heavily, still trying to pull away from your uncle. His head turned to gaze at you, his face completely devoid of any emotion, except the small twitch of his lip. His eye roamed you before looking behind you. 

Then suddenly he was moving again. 

Aemond pulled you into a small dark alley, bruising grip painfully throbbing up your arm. You looked frantically around you, but all had gone back to their business, and ignored the two Valyrians. He threw you forward into the space as your chest heaved, looking about to escape, but there was none. 

“If you want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like a whore.” He purred before he descended on you. His hands pushed you roughly against the wall of the alley, brick digging painfully into your back. You squirmed, desperate to get away from his grip, hands coming up to his chest to push your uncle away from you.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He growled, hands roughly coming up to palm at your breasts and you fought to push him off, fear crawling its way up your throat.

“Did you truly think I wouldn’t know what you were doing?” He sneered, one hand pushing against your throat roughly, cutting off your air. Your hands flew up to try and pull his away as he kept you locked against the wall in the dark depths of Flea Bottom.

“You thought you could parade yourself like a whore,” His hand ripped the front of your bodice down, your breasts spilling forth from their confines as his violet eye watched greedily, fingers coming to pinch painfully against your nipple, “To try and have this betrothal annulled.”

The cool air kissed at your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. You pushed at him with all your strength, trying to run away from the sharp pinching of his fingers, and the lack of air he denied you. Each pinch made your body stiffen. 

You whimpered.

“But you misunderstand me, niece.” His hand left their cruel assault upon your breasts to roughly begin hiking your dress up your body, you felt panic and fear begin to settle in your stomach as you dug your fingers into his chest sharply with your nails , trying to get him to let you go, shaking your head.

“Do you think I would let some filthy Northerners touch you?” His hand slipped under your skirts, brutally digging into the soft skin of your sex, “It will be my seed that will grow inside of you.”

Aemond’s fingers rubbed up and down your cunt roughly, gathering what little wetness was there, before he thrusted two fingers inside of you. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt the sharp sting of his intrusion. His fingers moved in and out quickly and painfully, pushing roughly into your warm heat as he watched your face.

“This is what you wanted, yes? To be treated like a dirty whore?” He purred, as breathless whimpers left your lips, your hands weakly pushing against his chest as you felt your vision begin to blur from lack of oxygen.

Your uncle’s hand left your throat and you sucked in a greedy gulp of air, a sob escaping your lips as you clawed at his arm, trying to stop his movements, whilst the hand that left your throat came down to roughly grasp at your exposed breasts.

“What would Lord Stark say to see you like this, hm? To see the Princess exposed in the filthy streets with her uncle inside of her cunt. Would he still want you?” He growled, hand quickening its pace as you felt a warmth begin to settle in your lower stomach, the pain fading away to be replaced with the soft trickles of pleasure. 

“Stop, Aemond. Please.” You begged him, voice hoarse as a tear slid from your cheek. He had you pressed so tightly against the wall that you could not move your hips back to escape him, so that all you could do was let him use you.

“Please?” He mocked, face coming close to yours before he kissed the tear away from your cheek. He hummed.

Your betrothed thumb came to press sharply at your slit, as his fingers rubbed the soft spongey flesh inside of you, pulling pleasure from your forcefully. 

A ragged moan left your lips as you jolted from the sudden pressure. 

“Mmm.” Aemond hummed close to your ear, moving his hand faster and more brutally. You felt tears begin to prick at your eyes, as you felt yourself being forced closer to your peak.

“Are you going to cum, zaldrītsos?” (Little dragon) He purred in your ear, as his thumb swirled roughly against the small bundle of nerves, the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten.

“Are you going to cum on my hand like a filthy whore? Out in the open for anyone to see? Perhaps I should have had Cregan and his men watch how disgusting you are.” He mused, and you felt yourself clench.

“Go on, be a good whore and cum for me.” He growled, and you felt the coil snap, as his thumb and fingers sent you over the edge, crashing down into a powerful orgasm.

His hands did not stop their assault, as you tried to push him away from you, tears sliding down your cheeks as your body twitched in the aftershocks of your orgasm. His fingers only became rougher as they pulled at you, before suddenly they were ripped away, a gasp leaving your lips as Aemond roughly spun you against the wall, your cheek digging into the rough brick of the alley.

His hands pulled your skirts over the rump of your ass, before pulling you backwards towards him. Your hands caught the brick as you tried to pull yourself straight and away from him, as Aemond clicked his tongue behind you.

“Be a good whore, and take it.” He hissed before you felt the soft hard head of his cock brush against the lips of your cunt. 

You moved to pull away but you were trapped.

“Uncle, please. No.” You cried, as you felt him push sharply inside of you, pain blooming within as he broke through your walls.

Aemond grunted from behind you before he started a brutal pace, his hips slamming against yours roughly, as you felt the painful sharp intrusion of his cock inside of you. The head of it, roughly hitting your cervix causing shooting agony to ripple up your body.

“So fucking tight.” He growled as he continued his assault, broken whimpers escaping your mouth as you used your hands to hold you up against the wall in purchase, trying to crawl away from him. 

Your uncle leant forward, crushing you with his body as he rutted up inside of you, changing the angle suddenly, brushing over the soft spongey flesh inside of you, causing you to mewl.

“Does that feel good?” He mocked as he continued to rub himself against the spot, the pain of him taking your maidenhead replaced with the warm sparks of pleasure, building faster than before. You shook your head, trying to move away from him.

“No?” He asked, “Let me help you.” 

Two of Aemond’s fingers shoved roughly into your open mouth before it snaked down the front of your dress, pressing against your clit, swirling softer circles around the nub.

Your cunt clenched against his cock as he continued to rut against you, his soft grunts in your ear as you felt yourself begin to wet around him, his cock sliding in and out of you smoother, aided by your arousal.

“I think it does feel good. I can feel your slick.” He mused as he continued to rub on you.

You felt yourself rapidly descending towards your second release, your fingers digging into the bricks as you began to chase after the peak, hips subtly pushing back against him. His fingers began to rub faster against you, as he thrusted harder into you, cock grazing that special spot as the coil wound itself tight, ready to break again before suddenly he stopped.

Aemond pushed himself fully into you, the head of his cock pushing snugly against your cevix as his fingers lifted away from your clit, preventing you from reaching your climax. A soft sob fell from your lips as your hips pushed back into him, chasing what was denied.

“Uh uh.” Your uncle tutted, “Beg.”

A whimper left your lips.

You refused to beg. 

Instead, pushing yourself up and down his shaft shakily, trying to catch your release, though your movements were jagged and shallow, prevented by him pushing you up against the wall. 

“Aemond.” You whispered his name, feeling the pleasure begin to simmer away from you, dwindling rapidly. 

“Beg.” He purred, softly pulling out and then slowly pushing back in, his shaft rubbing through you, causing pleasure to spark.

“Uncle.” You whimpered again, grabbing his arm trying to pull him closer, but he did not budge.

“Be a good little whore, and beg for it.”

“Aemond, please.” You begged, as you pushed your ass back into him, using your hands to attempt to rind against him.

“Please what, sweet niece?” He purred in your ear, hand grasping your hip tightly to stop your movements.

You shut your eyes tightly before sucking in a shark breath, head turning against the bricks so that you could peer at him from your periphery.

“Please fuck me.” You whispered.

“I can’t hear you.” Aemond mocked, as ground his hips into you, causing a wave of pleasure to curl its way around your stomach.

“Please fuck me, Aemond.” You begged louder. Feeling shame and arousal crawling through you as you hid your face back into the brick of the wall, pushing your ass back into his crotch, feeling his cock gently slide through your folds.

“Good girl.” He praised, before thrusting roughly into you, setting a sharp pace, hips clapping into the flesh of your ass, echoing in the empty alleyway.

A hand wound its way up your throat to hold you still as he pulled you backwards, arching your back against him as he thrusted wildly into you, before the other hand snaked down to begin rubbing at your clit again, fingers slipping around it smoothly with your slick.

“Please, please, please.” You whimpered, hips pushing back against him as his lips kissed against your neck, your second release rapidly arriving with every thrust of his hips. 

Aemond grunted against you as he felt you clenching around him, each push and pull of his hips dragging the head of his cock against your sweet spot, before it sent you tumbling over the edge.

The coil snapped and you found yourself moaning loudly into the alley, his hips continuing their brutal pace as he pushed you through your climax, his fingers continuing to rub circles against you, prolonging your release. You felt your slick drip down your thighs, and moaned.

“Yes.” He purred into your neck, before his teeth dug sharply in to your shoulder, his hips stuttering against you, as you felt his warm seed spurting inside.

You sagged against him, letting him hold you up as he continued to thrust into you slower, letting each spurt of cum settle deep inside of you, as some began to leak out of you and down your legs.

“Fuck.” He sighed dreamily, as he pushed himself to his limit inside of you, feeling your cunt twitch around him. 

A dull ache began to settle in your core as you felt Aemond slowly slide himself out of you, feeling his seed and your release drip onto the dirty ground below.

You breathed heavily as you caught your breath, leaning your head against his shoulder as his hands gripped your hips, bruising your tender flesh, before he spun you around to face him.

His hair was messed, and a light layer of sweat had settle upon his forehead. The pupil of his lavender eye was blown out so that you could scarcely see the iris behind it. His gaze trailed down your body to your exposed breasts which heaved with every ragged and exhausted breath you took. A hand came to stroke the underside of one softly, causing goosebumps to erupt across your body.

“My sweet niece,” He cooed, “Such a good whore for me.” You almost keened at his praise as his eye landed upon your lips. 

Your uncle leant forward to press a rough and punishing kiss to your lips, hand curling in your hair at the back of your head, denying you to pull away. You kissed him back lazily as you felt him smirk.

The One-Eyed Prince pulled back watching you intently before he smiled.

“We will be wed on the morrow, and you will carry my seed, and grow heavy with my child.” He looked down, brushing a hand against your stomach.

You blinked as you looked at him.

“If you thought you could escape me, you were sorely mistaken.” He leant in close, lips brushing your ears, “Iksā ñuhon.” He purred.

You are mine.

I hope you enjoyed that lil request! Thanks so much for sending it through, it was fun to write. :)