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sea-owl · 2 years ago

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Okay here's a new one for the Penelope and Phillip friendship tag: step-siblings Philip and Penelope. Portia's husband dies when Penelope is just a baby and she is in dire straights. By some marvelous coincidence, Lord Crane is looking for a wife to help raise his sons as he is far to busy. So when the two enter a marriage of convenience. Philip and Penelope instantly click and are basically joined at the hip. Since their parents aren't to interested in them, they both lean on each other heavily. Penelope is also able to delay her debut since George's wife Marina fall pregnant just before while George is off in the war and she volunteers to stay behind and look after her. George passing away, Sir Crane dying of grief with Marina not to long after lead to a further delay in Penelope's presentation as her and Philip work on raising the twins together while Portia works on getting her two eldest married. At last though it can no longer be avoided and she drags Philip along with Penelope to London with the twins to find Philip a wife (Penelope is 26 and is a hopeless case in her mind. At least she can work for Philip as the children's governess). Cue Colin and Eloise meeting and falling in love with Penelope and Philip but they think Penelope and Philip are married to each other given that they have the same last name.

I want to adjust this a little to have Felicity being the baby when Lord Featherinton dies. Mainly because I'm giggling at the thought of shotgun!Felicity going to bat for her favorite sister and step-brother as the introvert protector. Then she turns around and teaches the twins bad behavior. She teaches Oliver and Amanda how to shoot a shotgun while Eloise will later teach them how to shoot pistols.

When Penelope was seven her father died. When she was eight her mama moved them out to Gloucestershire where she was told her new father and brothers lived in their new home.

Penelope liked her new home in Romney Hall. She did not like Sir Crane, but she did like George and Phillip. Thankfully Sir Crane was not all around that much and Phillip liked books like her!

Practically glued to the hip Penelope and Phillip would explore the countryside together studying different plants they came across and reading their books. As the rest of their family tended to ignore them the duo could be gone for hours before they were needed for lessons. Felicity joined them as she got older, much preferring to be outside with them and practicing her shooting.

The two of them were never really apart until Phillip was seventeen and Penelope was fifteen. That was the year Phillip had gone off to university to study Botany. The two kept in contact with letters, but despite her best friend and favorite sibling being so far away Penlope wasn’t lonely. George had recently become engaged to a young debutant named Marina. She was the same age as Phillip, and she was quite beautiful. She seemed to carry a deep sadness though.

Penelope’s stepfather still mostly ignored all the children in his house, while her mama had gone back to London with her two older sisters to try to find them husbands for them. Her mama said if all goes well then Penelope’s turn will come when she is seventeen.

Penelope scrunched up her nose as she read over the letter. She didn’t know how she felt about moving all the way to London to look for a husband. Could she not find one here in Gloucestershire? Like how Marina found George?

Penelope never got to go to London when she was seventeen. When Penelope was seventeen her family had received a letter that George had been killed in battle, and then they had discovered that Marina was with child. Sir Crane had left that same morning to drag Phillip home as the new heir to Romney Hall.

Phillip and Penelope comforted each other that night as the mourned their lost brother.

Two weeks later Sir Crane died while yelling at Phillip and threatening to whip him. The old Sir Crane fell over, and Phillip was officially the new lord of Romney Hall. Penelope and Felicity helped gather the kindling needed for Phillip to burn that forsaken whip.

Phillip and Marina married something Portia agreed with.

“Your future child will be legitimized this way,” Portia explained to Marina. “If born a boy he will be Phillip’s heir and there will be no need for either of you to share a marriage bed.”

No one talked about the twins being eight-month babies, but there were whispers of how the Lady Crane never left her rooms. In order to help her brother Penelope took up the role of Lady of the house.

Marina never got over her heartbreak, and Felicity did not like how that heartbreak manifested in their home.

Nineteen year old Penelope was walking towards Marina’s room looking for Felicity when the most unexpected thing happened. She heard yelling.

“Keep quiet! I cannot remember if you don’t keep quiet!” Marina shouted from the doorway.

Twelve year old Felicity glared. It was clear she was getting ready for her lessons based on the materials in her hands. “Remember what?” Felicity spat back. “That you are Lady Crane and the lady of this house? Remember that you have children?”

“I am not the lady of this freak house,” Marina said coldly. “I am Lady Crane to Sir George Crane.” She turned towards Penelope, pointing at her. “That is the lady of the house, the sister wife to Sir Phillip Crane.”

Penelope doesn’t flinch. It has not the first time Marina has said something like that to her due to her sadness, nor is it the first time she has heard someone whisper about her and Phillip’s close bond. It does not help that some truly believe her to be the lady of the house instead of her position of acting lady.

Felicity opens her mouth to say something else when Penelope interrupts her. “Felicity, wait for me down in the drawing room.”

Felicity looks back from Penelope to Marina before taking her leave, giving her sister a quick hug before darting down the stairs.

With Felicity gone and the silence back Marina burst into tears.

“Do you wish to lay down?” Penelope asked her. Sleeping was something Marina did a lot of these days.

Marina nodded and Penelope led her back to her bed. Once tucked in Marina herself became silent.

When Penelope got to the drawing room Felicity was not there, but Phillip was. “Felicity told you?”

Phillip nodded, and then sunk down into his seat. “Marina is right. George should be the one here right now.”

“Well, if we’re going by should be, then my father, Lord Featherington should be alive, and I should be in London. We should have never met.” Penelope said, leaning her head on Phillip’s shoulder.

Phillip let out a nervous laugh. “Could you imagine us right now without one another?”

“We’d be miserable.” Penelope replied. “We’ll get through this.”

“Hopefully.”

The two sat in silence for a moment then Penelope looked up. “Where is Felicity by the way?”

“I told her she could go destress by practicing her shooting.”

“How she loves noise.”

When Penelope was twenty-four Marina had passed away from a sickness that she didn’t even try to fight. The family went into mourning.

Phillip and Penelope were answering condolences letters. Penelope hands one to Phillip that is only addressed to him.

“Who is it from?” Penelope asked.

“A Miss Eloise Bridgerton,” Phillip said.

Penelope looked over the list of relatives. Her mama managed to keep a meticulous record of the Featherington family tree and the Crane family tree. Ah there it is, Bridgerton.”It appears she is one of Marina’s distant cousins.”

Phillip nodded and started his reply.

When Penelope was twenty-five and Phillip twenty-seven Portia had put her foot down.

“You two, and Felicity are to come to London this season to look for spouses,” Portia said, leaving no room for argument. Before either of them can get out a word Portia stops them. “No buts. Penelope we should have brought you earlier, instead of relying on someone finding you out here in Gloucestershire. Maybe if we had we could have had the Featherington grandson by now and Phillip, the children need a mother. As for Felicity it is time for her debut, and she won’t go if you two don’t.”

Phillip and Penelope glanced at each other. As much as they don’t want to admit it, they knew Portia had a point. The Featherington estate needed an heir, Portia managed to secure it so that the first grandson would get the estate but to give themselves their best chances of that they needed as many as the daughters married as possible. Also, Romney Hall deserved a proper mistress, and the twins a proper mother.

You deserve a wife who will love you, Penelope thought to herself as she watched her brother think it over.

Phillip eventually nodded, looking pained as he said his next words. “I see you point Mother; we shall join in London for the next social season.”

“Good,” Portia nodded. “Now when we are there you two must make sure to act like you are looking for spouses, and not like a couple who married for convivence.”

“We don’t act like that,” Phillip and Penelope said at the same time.

Portia sent them a look, “I know that and anyone who lives or works in this house knows that you two are nothing more than siblings. But rumors do travel, and often times leads others to see things that are not there.”

A week later two carriages rode off towards London, one bearing the Featherington crest, while the other bared the Crane crest.

Phillip and Penelope sat in the Crane carriage, each of them had one of the twins sleeping on their laps.

Penelope looked down at her lap and then back at her brother. “Pip.”

Phillip looked up; Penelope hasn’t been called that since George died. “Yes Penny?”

‘When you marry-”

“If I marry-”

“When you marry,” Penelope said, “I think I should like to find a cottage nearby. To give you and your new wife some space.”

Phillip smirked. “You just don’t want her to find out you write dirty novels, and ask barmaids about female pleasure, Lady Whistledown.

"I figured if anyone knew about female pleasure it would be Lucy. She certainly has the bossom for it. And I was right!" Penelope then made a face. “I still say it is your fault everyone calls me Lady Crane.”

Phillip had been teasing her about seeing so many reading her novels in public once and had called her my lady. He had meant it as Lady Whistledown, Penelope suspected others thought it meant Lady Crane.

“Whatever you wish Penny I will help,” Phillip promised. “But who knows, maybe you will find your own match in London.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right Pip, no serious offers would be made to a spinster.”

As was tradition with the London social season Lady Agatha Danbury’s ball opened up the festivities. Everything was set up in a beautiful garden, with lanterns organized just so to give a romantic lighting.

Penelope grabbed hold her Phillip’s arm. With her luck her brother would spot a plant he found interesting, get distracted, and then she never sees him again. Yeah no, she’s not about to explain Amanda and Oliver about how they lost their daddy over a plant. The Featherington estate would not survive the chaos.

Portia leads their group over to their host, who was standing with a middle-aged woman, and what looks like could be her children.

The woman was Lady Violet Bridgerton, and her children with her were Colin, Eloise, and Hyacinth. Felicity liked Hyacinth, but Felicity had to do a double take at her older siblings.

Oh no, Felicity does not like that look Colin is giving her sister. He looked hungry and only Penelope could satisfy his hunger. Also why is Eloise sizing her brother Phillip up like that?

Thankfully Penelope is still holding Phillip in place. She does not want to see what those Bridgertons would do if she wasn't.

A few more words were passed between the the four and then Penelope detaches herself from Phillip to dance with Colin. Eloise takes Penelope's place and begins a walk around the room with Phillip.

Oh no, Felicity is gonna need her shotgun, and the twins.

#felicity with a shotgun how i've missed you #i wish i knew what prudence's and phillipa's ages are or know what bridgerton they're close in age to #i'm just guestimating here #look i was nice and gave you the first meeting in this one #step siblings phillip and penelope au #bridgerton #polin #philoise #penelope featherington #phillip crane #felicity featherington #besties phillip and penelope #phillip and penelope are about to confuse the whole ton #tbf the ton is only used to the bridgertons siblings and their scandal causing chaos #they're not used to two introverts being siblings

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dracarysice · 2 years ago

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we all know s4 took a huge downhill but can we all agree that PRUDENCE???

#girlboss behavior #step on me #caos #prudence blackwood #literally how #i love it when women #bitchy women with weapons is so personal to me #that’s it that’s the post

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rhodyrich · 21 days ago

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#God's guide #“Blessed are…”#Steps to walk the narrow way.#Eyes fixed on the Lord.#faith #hope #love #prudence #justice #fortitude #temperance #catholic #christian #haiku

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insideoutvietnam · 2 years ago

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Prudential đồng hành giúp học sinh tại Quảng Ngãi tự tin “đến trường an toàn”

Đây là sự kiện khởi đầu cho chuỗi các hoạt động tập huấn, giảng dạy an toàn giao thông tại nhà trường, cải tạo cơ sở hạ tầng xung quanh trường học, cấp mũ bảo hiểm đạt chuẩn, và thực hiện chiến dịch “30 ngày đi bộ an toàn”

Ngày hội An toàn giao thông do công ty TNHH Bảo hiểm Nhân thọ Prudential Việt Nam (Prudential) phối hợp cùng Quỹ Phòng chống thương vong Châu Á (AIP), Ủy Ban An toàn Giao thông Quốc Gia, Bộ Giáo dục và Đào tạo và các đối tác địa phương tổ chức, đã thu hút sự hàng trăm học sinh, phụ huynh, giáo viên và lãnh đạo các cấp ban ngành tỉnh Quảng Ngãi tham dự. Trong ngày hội, các em tự tin khoe kiến thức…

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#Prudence Foundation #Quảng Ngãi #SAFE STEPS Kids #đến trường an toàn

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flowerandblood · 4 months ago

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The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

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athena-xox · 1 month ago

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I’ve been sitting on this for a while but here are my age accurate eah fancasts

(Btw here’s a Pinterest board with the aesthetics because sometimes google search just does not give the vibe)

Raven: Lotus Blossom

Apple: Sophie Grace

Maddie: Momona Tamada

Briar: Izabella Rose

Cedar: Camryn Jones

Ashlynn: Aubrey Anderson Emmons

Cerise: Kiawentiio Tarbell

Ramona: Elva Guerra

Lizzie: Sunny Sandler

Daring: Billy Barrett

Dexter: Jacob Tremblay

Darling: Isabella Sermon

Rosabella: Scarlett Estevez

Blondie: Ruby Rose Turner

Cupid: Presley Reese

Faybelle: Florence Hunt

Farrah: Madeline McGraw

Hunter: Miguel Mora

Sparrow: Kyle Breitkopf

Duchess: Lina-Sophia Ben Hamman

Kitty: Miya Cech

Brooke: Ever Anderson

Hopper: Jason Maybaum

Ginger: Faithia Youssouf

Melody: Kyndra Sanchez

Holly: Mirabelle Lee

Poppy: Anais Lee

Alistair: Raphael Luce

Bunny: Elle McKinnon

Chase: Chance Hurstfield

Courtly: Raffiela Chapman

Jackie: Arianna Greenblatt

Northwind: Malachi Barton

Crystal: Xochitl Gomez

Humphrey: Aryan Simhadri

Jillian: Ashley Aufderheide

Nina: Faithe Herman

Tiny: Elie Samouhi

Coral: Julia Butters

Meeshell: Echo Picone

Justine: Demi Singleton

Clara: Vivian Watson

Witchy: Fina Strazza

Nate: Lain Armitage

Lilly: Alavia Alyn Lind

Prudence: Callie Havarda

Charlotte: Isabel Fowler

Helga: Olivea Morton

Gus: Landon Gordon

Alternate fcs:

Raven: Sophie Fergi

Cedar: Anais Lee (she’s been my cedar fc forever but I couldn’t find any other twins for Holly & poppy :/)

Daring: Tait Blum or Dylan Hoffman

Blondie: Allison Coronado

Faybelle: Arianna Greenblatt

Hunter: Javon Walton

Kitty: Chloe Coleman (tbh I think she fits more than Miya but I’ve already committed with the board)

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ghostlyferrettarot · 3 months ago

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📀⚡️The Part of Fortune and how we find happiness⚡️📀

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

📀If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!📀

⚡️Masterlist⚡️

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Aries: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potential of trust, faith and hope flowing in the most selfless generosity throughout your being. Generosity begins with oneself and always discovering new ways to give it will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Taurus: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the relationship with the divine without intermediaries and in the first person and, thus, you can transmit to each individual inspiration, harmony and a priceless feeling of being welcomed and accepted in the world. Your ability to understand with kindness through empathy will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Gemini: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potential of free will and the ability to love (yourself) in total freedom flowing through your entire being in order to learn to choose (yourself). The activation of your shamanic mind and the balance of forces within you will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️Part of Fortune in Cancer: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you open new routes to success and deploy your power, your mastery and your magnetism in unthinkable ways. Going for triumph and success that allows you to assert yourself as an individual and realize your desires for action in the world will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Leo: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of courage, will, passion and valor flowing, in a serene and calm way, throughout your being. Finding and feeling the centering, the magnetism in the axis around which your own life revolves will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Virgo: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you connect with the depths of your soul. Pursuing the call of your desire to be one with the divine and cultivating introspection, wisdom, prudence and perseverance will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️Part of Fortune in Libra: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of balance, rigor, loyalty, authenticity and honesty flowing through your entire being. Finding yourself in a balance that is not, in reality, static but in continuous transformation, looking life in the face and people directly in the eye… will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Scorpio: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you move towards the future in a totally dynamic attitude and are willing to explore unknown regions. Continually being reborn into new ways of being, destroying the superficial and leaving only the essential at every step, will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Sagittarius: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of harmony, tolerance, connection and peace flowing through your entire being. Seeking and finding the middle path between light and shadow, activating kind understanding and intelligence of the heart will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Capricorn: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of all your material power and capacity for seduction that are available in your physical vehicle, the temple of your body. Your efforts and determination to access leadership will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Aquarius: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you do not let your ideas go to waste and, when you get down to work, you feel the potentials of know-how, structuring and realization flowing through your entire being. The world needs you to invent things and put your contributions into practice, so attending to and honoring your need to exercise your activity in the field will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️Part of Fortune in Pisces: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of unlimited vision and the most fertile creativity flowing through your entire being. Your willingness to feel the mobility of all emotions and all feelings will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

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defmaybe · 3 months ago

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Prudence

NMIXX’s Lily Jin Morrow x Male Reader

5.3k words

A/N: Thanks to @gangplanksorenji for the beta reading! And also I wrote this with only lust, so it might look rough lol. Thanks for reading!

–

“Get your ass the fuck over here!”

An earth-shattering scream from behind freezes you in place. The voice, as you can always make up, lacks any warmth that would normally be found anywhere else. It always sends shivers throughout your body like a constant, and you can’t quite get used to it.

Another set of profanities follows. “Bitch boy, I said get—the fuck—here!” she screams out.

Following the source, you slowly rotate yourself to face her locating behind. You don’t dare to move from the spot by an inch, so you can only turn your feet, inch by inch. The floors of your shoes rub against the floor.

In your moving sight, the unhelpful bystanders are watching the scene unfold, whispering into one another’s ears. And once your eyes meet hers, you only see her smirking over the conquest once more, arms crossed, tapping her toes.

“Come.” She gestures for you to step towards her.

Every open eye is shifting between you and the blonde woman, as you agonizingly plod closer to her, arms unmoved under the distance chipped away.

“Faster, bitch,” she huffs. Her right foot is tapping even quicker.

You shut your eyes, unable to look at her smokey makeup, hence unbeknownst to the fact that she just ran out of her patience mere seconds ago. She stumps towards your sedate frame, before snatching your collar and pulling you to just a breath away from her.

“I said… faster, bitch,” she commands, and you open your eyes again, whimpering. She stares straight into your eyes, displeased with your slight disobedience. Her mouth is agape a little.

“W—What do you want this time?” you stutter out. Her minty breath hits your nostrils.

The woman continues her intimidation with a laugh. “What do I want?” And with no hint of shame in her eyes, her right hand seizes your covered crotch, drawing a few gasps from the crowd surrounding you.

“As always, you, bitch boy,” and as she finishes her words, she darts her face into your right ear, spreading her saliva onto the auricle. And, of course, you whimper out.

It’s Lily Jin Morrow, the woman who owns your ass.

—

Excitement looms in the air, under the sun; it’s the first day of your freshman year, after all. Multiple booths from the clubs found their places on the lush courtyard, parted in the middle to make way for the enthusiastic fellow freshmen. Conversations between the club leaders and the fresh faces added life to the atmosphere.

Your bag had its weight overpowering you. You paced your way through the crowd before being welcomed with the arch in the front door; the path is separated into three ways, with the navigating sign on top. It guided your trembling body to the assigned locker, new, shiny in red - a signal of the constant improvement this university had promised you months ago.

–

“Nope, not today,” Lily said.

“What do you mean?” Yoona inquired, brows arched.

“I just told you, no!”

“You don’t like mint chocolate?”

“Why the fuck would I? I could just brush my teeth for the same effect, and we just had it yesterday.”

“Excusez moi, did you just compare it to toothpaste?”

Lily stared at Yoona for a breath before breaking out a laugh.

“Yeah, it tastes like toothpaste!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Let’s say I won’t be eating that soft cream when it’s mint chocolate day.”

“Hmph! Your loss then,” Yoona chuckles at her friends’ stubbornness.

The other four women were also giggling along with the flavorful banter.

“Wait, do you guys think that is a freshman?” Lily’s laugh was cut short by words as she pointed at the man arranging his locker - you.

Her friends’ visions followed Lily’s finger onto you, struggling to put your bag’s content into the red container. Some were simpering at your predicament.

“Yeah, he definitely is,” Jinsol confirms.

“Definitely?” Lily stared at her.

Jinsol’s confidence dissolved into a shrug. “Definitely, maybe.”

“Oh fuck off, don’t say it if you aren’t sure,” Lily scoffed, before returning her vision to you.

Jinsol lightly slaps Lily’s shoulder. “Well, you can go ask him.”

“He’s a freshman, Lily,” Jiwoo popped up into the conversation. “Look at the way he’s putting stuff into his locker.”

It was true, you could barely hold your bag from falling onto the floor that day.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lily affirms. “Let’s get to work, girls.”

–

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

You turned back to see six women surrounding you, if you remembered correctly. The candy-haired woman seemed to be the leader, judging from how she was slightly closer to you than the others.

“H–Hey,” you stuttered out, clenching your hands on your bag.

The leader’s expression was hard to determine. She scanned you from head to toes, while you took notice of her firm body and the skimpy clothes covering it. There haven't been many styles that have bound you as much as this. Her face was also different from the rest. Perhaps she has some kind of western descent.

The white crop top didn’t help at all, with it hugging her perky breasts so exquisitely, accentuating them to create a mouthwatering sight. You swear you could drool right then and there, if it wasn’t because of your inhibition. And you’d lie to say that you didn’t look at her white shorts of the same shade, exposing much of her thighs.

“I’m looking for some entertainment,” she said, voice stern. You could only gulp.

She carried on her speech with sultry in her voice, smirking to further charm you. “I’m going to do so many things to you, and you’re going to do so many things for… me.”

Your vision was often blinded by the rapid blinks, while she continued, “If you say no, I’ll leave you alone, otherwise…”

You became a shaking mess under her seduction, the flawless approach. Your hands were trembling, breaths ragged as she closed her face in.

“What is it, huh? Yes… or no.” God.

Maybe it was the way her garment showed off the curves of her chest so clearly, maybe it was the way you garnered stares from her subordinates, or maybe, just maybe, it was her Marc Jacobs’ Perfect Intense finding its way into turning the gears in your head, you nodded, bewitched under her spell.

“Such a needy whore, aren’t you?” She grinned, before bringing her feather touch onto your bulge, fondling it with adeptness.

You whimpered at the contact, hands letting go of the bag to grab on the lockers behind you. You could see that her friends in the corner of your sight were giggling at her magic while you maintained eye contact with the perverted preparator.

“Yeah, moan for me, bitch boy,” she whispered, and you complied between the ragged breaths. It was unbelievable what was happening to you then.

The surrounding women began giggling at your faltering composure, with the leader toying with your cock through the cloth. “It’s Lily, by the way. Sophomore.” Her eyes were still locked on yours.

You moaned as Lily revealed her name, and you were under her complete control by that moment, surrendered to the contact. Her hand on your bulge felt like a torture - an unending torment of what’s coming.

“L–Lily, please,” you pleaded.

She laughed, before leaning in close to your right ear to command in a whisper. “Then kneel, slut.”

It didn’t take more than a second for you to sink yourself onto the floor, looking up to face her grin. The name sparked something inside you - being called a slut, whore, and bitch in a matter of seconds, with her towering over you.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” she began. Her thumb played with the waistband of her shorts. Sounds of the strap contacting her skin were heard. “Wanna eat my cunt?”

It wasn’t a hard choice to be made. You profusely nodded, channeling your submissive eagerness for her. And quickly, her white shorts were dropped along with her thin panties onto the floor, giving the sight of her bare, clean-shaven sex before you.

And without a word, you gave yourself the pleasure of slowly lapping up her cunt. Her caramel-scented body wash ran into your nostrils, while the tangy taste was equally driving you insane. Her friends are all smiling at the sight in the corner of your eyes.

“Y–Yeah, fuck, you know your job, bitch boy.” Lily pushed your greedy mouth onto her, caressing your hair while doing so. She sang a string of moans over the effect your tongue was having. And seeing the opportunity, you gripped onto her shaking, exposed pale thighs to eat her wet folds better.

“Fuck!” she screamed from the sensations. Despite your tight hold, her juicy legs were still shaking from your action. You can see the contractions of her folds, as if she was ready for such a quick release. You keep your deliberate licks on Lily; bits of you didn’t want her to lose the momentum you’ve been building.

“M–My bitch boy, y–you got quite a tongue.” Both of her hands were wandering in your hair by then, trying to find solace within the furor.

You remained busy pleasing Lily; your tongue felt her contractions for an impending release. And with an unknown bravery, you unlatched your right hand from her, before plunging your fingers into her drenched cavern.

“God, w–what the f–fuck.” Her legs were profusely shaking at that point. You did your best to aim for the swollen nub with your mouth, while touching the rough spot with your digits.

“Fucking whore, is my cunt that good?” she asked, then seemed to answer her own question by pressing (somehow even stronger this time) your whore mouth harder into savoring her cunt. You had never had the chance to inhale such a pungent musk, and fuck, didn’t it send you feral?

“I–I’m gonna cum, whore, d–don’t you dare fucking stop,” she shakily asserted, as you fixated what’s between her thighs. You remained mostly as it was - sucking the clit, brushing the g-spot, with one difference. Your free hand glided up to squeeze her supple ass, making Lily’s moans grow louder. Her friends seemed to be happy with your output, chattering about your actions.

“F–Fuck, I–I’m gonna–” Lily’s façade faltered. Her legs quivered; moans jumped; chest heaved; slit contracted, and your mouth became the destination of the explosion. It was quick at the peak - a shock. And as she came down from the precipice, her expression was nothing but glee.

Lily would finally catch her breath as your mouth was aching. “Y–You are my bitch boy from now on, understand?” she inquired, her pulse was still fast, face flushed.

You nodded.

—

Lily took little time to force you into her shenanigans for that second incident. Her smokey eyeshadows and the messy hair had quite an effect on you that day. And with a few name callings and orders, you find your pants and boxers dropped to the floor in the chattering hallway.

Your body was at the edge the entire time. From the moment her tongue flicked the tip of your cock, brushing the first stroke of her saliva. God, you could cum right then and there, but not until she swallowed the entire head with her plump lips. That was when the main course began.

With unmatched dexterity, Lily Jin Morrow didn’t start with baby steps. She threw her head forward and hollowed her cheeks immediately just to satisfy her bitch boy, taking your entire cock with ease, with the godly suction in her wet, warm cavern. And with such a reckless maneuver, you were rushing towards the cliff. Waves of sensations crashed onto your frame, drawing out a series of moans and whimpers from you.

“Fuck—I should’ve done this since that day,” Lily says with your cock in her mouth. Her slender fingers were wrapping around your digit as a handle. Her hands run along the length to intensify the sensations. You could see her slight smile. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re so delicious, bitch boy?”

You moaned at her oral mastery in response, “I—I didn’t have the chance, Lily.” You could only seek a place on the lockers to prevent yourself from crumbling in front of the murmuring onlookers.

You felt it - the knot tying itself in your stomach, a sign of the high. It was merely a small clump up of it. Still, with the way she sucks your cock, it rapidly tangled itself under her actions. Your hands were gripping onto the lockers, once again, trembling at how she forced your hips to move towards her mouth.

“L—Lily,” you whimpered out her name.

She pulled her mouth off your glistened cock. “What, bitch boy?” she asked with such composure that’s unable to be found in a person who just had a cock in their mouth. Her hands were still stroking along the length, hitching your breath as you tried to collect the letters.

“S—Slow down, I’m g—gonna cum soon,” you stuttered out. Her act didn’t seem to slow down to accompany your request.

“Or what, huh? Are you so afraid to unload yourself in front of these people?” Lily asked, still jerking your cock.

You darted your eyes across the smiling, giggling onlookers, and you could not withhold your peak after being given the otherworldly blowjob in front of them, really. Plus, you couldn’t just chickened away after you fucked her cunt with your tongue like that.

The warm hands enveloped your cock were then gone, pulling your eyes back towards Lily, who was sucking her right middle finger, coated it with her saliva similar to your cock. You were entranced at the sight of such lewdness, as she seemed to be so eager to tease her poor victim under the weight of her uncertain next action.

“L—Lily, please,” you pleaded. “Don’t tease me like this.”

She pulled her now-shone digit out of her cavern with glee. “Oh, baby, I’ll suck this cock again.” She then nicked your dick softly with her tongue, sending a jolt, and you were struggling to contain a whimper.

“I’m just going to fuck your ass with this.” She flipped you off with her glistened digit, her nail, cut for this single finger, on display.

“W—What?” you asked, voice trembling.

“Do you want my mouth on your cock, huh?” Lily pulled the strings, hovering her mouth just over the tip.

You moaned out, “Fuck, yes, Lily,” as she laughed at the sight, before recomposing herself to match her smokey makeup.

“Then let me fuck that big ass of yours, slut.”

You looked into her lustful eyes, breaths ragged. You wouldn’t deny that you could’ve said no and just rubbed yourself off to cum in mere seconds, since her oral masterclass had brought you so close to paradise.

“Hey, I need consent,” she said, snapping you back into the wake of her expectations. “Or I’ll just get up and leave you blue-balled, which… I’d hate to see you like that.” Lily averted the eye contact by a split second at the few last words. The people around still had their eyes glued to the depravity of your cock - twitching at the sight of this emo woman.

But a spark lit up inside you. How bad could it be, anyway - having an ethereal woman fingering your ass while hollowing her cheeks around your cock? You got the chance and eventually, you nod.

Lily smiled. “That’s the spirit,” before she stuck her lubed digit up your puckered hole.

It was an almost incomprehensible cocktail; she basically rammed into your hole with her lean middle finger. It pierced your tightness, slowly finding its way to the destination.

“Ooh, what’s this?” she said, as the tip of her length grazed your sensitive spot, sending the same jolt that her mouth had made. You felt her fist pushing into your cheeks.

“F–Fuck, Lily,” you moaned out.

“What if I just…” Lily motioned a come hither with the length inside you, nudging the sensitive spot called prostate. And didn’t that make your legs wobble? The bold act (on top of it being done in front of the other university attendees) sent shivers through your body, shocks after shocks.

“Moan for me, slut,” Lily commanded, and it’s like you’d resist her words at this point.

Your mind could barely register anything beside the knot forming in your stomach and the grin Lily was giving you. Your moans created a vibration throughout the hallway, garnering even more crowd than the blowjob session earlier. And as if her finger wasn’t enough, Lily resumed her oral expertise on your twitching cock, decorated with the dripping pre-cum.

She started, with her finger inside your ass, by lapping up the nectar that was dribbling out of your writhing cock with her nimble tongue, replacing the wetness of your juice with her saliva. And it was enough to send more rounds of jolts through your body.

“This is fucking delicious, bitch boy,” Lily hummed in satisfaction. “Keep your routine like this and I’ll continue to reward you, alright?”

“O–Okay.”

Lily, still yearned for the main, sticky course, took your completely aroused dick into her mouth. Her angelic moans were stifled. Fuck, you couldn’t register shit by then - a finger in your ass nudging your prostate, and your cock engulfed in such wet heat, her hums of satisfaction with the taste of you. The combined sensations were too much to handle, and you could count down to the implosion.

“Lily, I–I–.”

Her movements grew more violent as the murmuring of the spectators went louder, along with your joyous moans. She picked up her speed to where it robbed the senses from your other parts, making you only capable of feeling the suction on your cock and the assault inside your ass. The forceful, sloppy, public blowjob by Lily Jin Morrow might as well be the best you’ll ever have.

You felt a wave building up inside your stomach - the sea levelled down. Her unrelenting assault was surely pushing the incoming crest even higher. Your legs tensed up, and Lily seemed to sense this.

“Gonna cum, bitch?” She paused her oral masterclass for a quick breath, filling the gap with her deft fingers. You groaned out at the robbed ecstasy, eliciting a grin from her.

Yet, she didn’t let the emptiness linger for long, as she immediately fuck her mouth again. Her saliva dripped out; her emo makeup was ruined; and the curled short hair got even more messy from the act, covering her gorgeous features.

It wasn’t just the act of bobbing her head this time with the last few strokes. She locked you within the bullseye of her vision - those doe eyes, fuck. Her tongue grazed the underside of your cock, nicking your frenulum.

And as predicted, a tsunami washed over you. The crowd dissolved into a blur. Fuck, you almost fell to the ground, crushed by the weight of your own euphoria. You unloaded yourself into her mouth, writhing, screaming under the godly pleasure. Thick, white spurts painted her wet cavern. Lily and you moaned in unison, hands and her swollen lips tried to milk every drop of cum of your nectar. Your enveloped cock twitched inside her mouth, shooting a rope of cum on each vibration.

After what felt like eternity, your tsunami subsided, as Lily pumped the last few drops out of you, slowly, eyes fluttered from the feeling of your seed hitting her throat. You saw her choking on your cock a little, making the sound on the merciless twitches.

“F–Fuck, are you okay, Lily?” you uttered, still shaken from the orgasm.

Lily pulled herself off of your glistened cock - your cum and her saliva, before seeming to swallow the content inside her mouth down her throat.

“Yeah, bitch, I just ate your cum. Any problem?” she scoffed, looking away from you. Her finger rubbed your anus as she dragged it out, evoking your one last moan.

“No–No, Lily, thanks,” you replied. Your breathing and beating of the heart were still out of rhythm. “Fuck.”

She flashed her tongue a split second, just enough for you to see that there’s no cum left behind her swollen lips. She then pulled your pants and boxers back up into their places, giving you the warmth that you had never felt from her.

“Happy, my bitch boy?” she asked without the usual aggression. You could see tinges of red in her cheeks as she looked up while redoing your belt.

“Lily, your cheeks. Are you really okay?” It’s a bit of a wonder to care about her, with all the pressings in the degeneracy. And you couldn’t quite pinpoint the beat of your heart that pushed this question out, either. Perhaps it was just basic decency shining in this predatory relationship.

She finished up the last details of your belt. “Y–Yeah, I’m fine.” You could still see her cheeks painted in faint crimson, despite her attempts to avoid eye contact as she rose back to her feet.

“Till next time, bitch boy,” she dubbed farewell, eyes elsewhere. Before she strode away from you.

“Till next time,” you replied.

–

Lily is basically devouring your right ear now, with her right hand grabbing your growing girth through your pants. “God, I wish I could just bite your ear off, bitch boy.”

You moan in response to her brimming passion. Yet, you are standing still, hands unmoved opposite to her mappings on your body. Her savoring session remains in your auricle - biting, nibbling, sucking, whatever she can do with her mouth.

“You want the same package, slut?” Lily asks, finally pulling out from your now-drenched ear.

You shake your head; your cock is aching for much more than her mouth.

“Oh, you fucking bitch,” she chuckles, pushing you softly into the locker doors once again. No eyes in the crowd dare to look away. “You wanna fuck my cunt?”

Your length twitches inside the cage at her depraved words, involuntarily (or not) making you nod.

Lily grabs your jaw, forcing eye contact. Assertive as usual. “Then beg for it, bitch.”

You gulp, making peace with her dominance once again. “P–Please, L–Lily.”

She smiles; the warmth radiated contradicts her usual demeanor and the makeup. “God, you’re such a whore,” even if the words are still in line.

She asserts again, “Fuck my cunt the way I deserve.”

She drags both of her hands on her chest, sideways. “I saw you eyeing this on the first day.” The black crop top makes it a little hard to visualize, but it’s enough to have you drool. She then continues her striptease in front of the public - adding a little spice of swaying her hips, playing with the hem below her chest. Fuck, you can’t tear your eyes off the show. She runs her fingers between the edge of the layers of her double crop tops and her porcelain skin. Sometimes pulling it up to display the hint of her delicate boobs.

The teasing continues for mere minutes, but the intensity of it just quickens your heartbeat with each second. Your hardened cock is helplessly twitching inside your pants - a silent cry of your ardor.

And at the brim, you dash onto her succulent tits, determined to put your mouth on them. Her eluding mounds are asking to be treated too much. However, Lily reacts fast, and instantly grabs you by the throat.

“You fucking whore.” With renewed aggression, she pushes you back onto the lockers with her strength by the neck, before her tone dips into the paused seduction once more. “Couldn’t you just wait?”

“L–Lily,” you choke out. Her grey nails are digging into your throat. You’re sure that there are going to be a few crescent marks left on you.

“I was going to let you fuck me.” Her tone laces with sultry. “But you just couldn’t wait, huh, you little bitch?”

You whimper at her demeaning words - a constant, a certainty, hungry for her attention.

“If your cock and that cum don’t taste so delicious,” she continues her monologue. “I would’ve just fuck your face and get this over with.”

Lily finally lets go of your throat, stepping back, leaving the spectators whispering about the red marks on you.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me until I say so. Are we clear?” She points at you. God, you’d let her kill you right now.

You nodded, eyes fixated on her covered chest again. Lily resumes the show, teasing you by sliding her hand under the hem of her crop tops - a hypnotic melody. Her hip is swaying, thighs following the motion, showing off her luscious curves at every turn - an enchanting percussion.

She keeps playing around the perfect cadence, tensing you up with the notes that are just short of a harmony. A show of her perky under-boobs, or the more daring black panties. The expression is nothing short of alluring - the smirk, the playful eyes, the occasional giggles at your needy response.

“You wanna see my tits that bad, huh?” Lily teases, pulling up the edge to where her right areola is on display. You bite your lip to stifle the moan.

“Come,” she orders, and who are you to resist?

Under her spell, you are lured onto Lily’s hands, too busy fondling her own mounds under her top, into the middle of the packed hallway, closer and closer; nipples are still covered. Even some professors are joining in to watch the show now.

“Open your mouth.” More orders come along the path, and you comply, ready to latch it onto her. Lily is still teasing you with the anticipation of her bare tits, so masterfully hiding the nub with her dancing fingers.

And finally, the perfect cadence strikes. Her crop tops are pulled just right to give a peek of her pink, erect nubs. She’s as aroused as you are, and it’s beautiful. You didn’t need more commands to make your next move, bending down to hungrily sucking her perfectly sized tits. The crowd gasps.

“Fuck, just like that,” Lily moans.

You feel her hands pressing your head into her, and it’s like you’d complain. You continue sucking her perky breasts, tasting every hint of her scent. She still uses the Perfect Intense from the first day; it’s imprinted into your brain by this point. How often do you get to give head to a woman on an opening day, right? There’s a sign of her salty sweat - the component that elicits ferociousness. Fuck.

“Hmm, yeah, keep sucking my tits like that and I’ll let you fuck me.”

Your mouth gets tired from all the sucking. Yet, it’s Lily Jin Morrow, and you can’t just get enough of her. Yes, perhaps you’re already under her spell, but you’d always be glad to get just a slap to your face.

Lily would give you an easier access to her perky mounds, taking off her black top, remains just the white, collared-shirt that shows off the same amount of midriff to you. Before she unbuttons the inner garment, showing you how her bra is deemed missing for today. She leaves it just that - her white top just hanging on her shoulders; the middle parted for you to get her taste.

“God, I need your cock now, bitch boy,” she finally allows.

And with your mouth busy, you undo your belt hastily, blinded by her mounds, stumbling along the way. You yank your whole lower attire onto the floor within seconds, and the people around you gasp again at the sight of your erect cock. Well, it won’t stop just here.

“Hmm, s–so ready for me, what a–a fucking–” Lily whimpers with you still devouring her tits, and she take off her slack and the black panties she have teased you with ease, as if she has been practicing for you. Once again, her cunt is just within your reach.

Lily unlatches you from her chest. “I need you, now.” Her eyes are burning, yearning for your twitching cock.

Just like that, you pick her up by the ass, hands grabbing the flesh. Shit, that’s definitely going to leave a mark. She straddles her meaty legs on your waist, putting her in a position to be penetrated. And you give in to her needs, pushing your clasped bodies onto the locker doors. The crowd in front gives way for you two, for your debauchery.

“Fuck me.”

It’s cathartic, as your cock pierces into her wet, tight, wanton cunt. You bury yourself to the hilt with ease, with the help of gravity. You feel every inch of her velvety walls, welcoming you for the first time. She squeezes you in the way no one can, wanting to milk every drop of your seed just like her mouth did.

Lily is drowned in her sea of pleasure and profanities right now, moaning only fucks and shits to cover the murmuring sounds from the crowd. You are fucking her so well as she does to you. It is false to say that the clenches on your cock do not pull out a sound from you. It’s a cacophony - the wet claps of her plump ass and your thighs, the moans, the chattering of the people around.

“G–God, f–fuck, ngh, ngh,” Lily cannot utter any proper word with you inside her - mouth agape, eyes rolling. Her thesaurus is burned at this point as she bounces on your cock.

She then blurts, “Y–You’re so g–good, baby.”

And that’s it, she confesses so easily (well, with a dick inside her also) - the smiles, the words, the reddish hue on her that day. They all come together here - you pounding her on the wall of lockers, in front of god knows how many people. Then, there’s the scent of your perfumes and sweat mixed, the nails digging into your shirt, and how she smiles at her own utterance of ‘baby’.

“Y–You too, b–babe,” you whimper, still ramming yourself inside her wanting sex.

Lily glances around over your shoulder, seeing the students and professors in their trances. Her vision is shaky from you fucking her cunt erratically. She bounces up and down along your hard rod. The sound of your fleshes smacking traverses through the hallway, as people gather around you even more like an assembly.

“Cum w–with me, alright?” Lily stutters. “B–Because I’m going to.”

You can feel it coming with her tight cavern squeezing around you. Again, the water level drops, anticipating something grand to come after - a tsunami.

And with the final bits of inhibition, you mutter out, “I–I’m gonna–fuck!”

You’ve never thought that your life would come to this point - cumming inside a woman in front of a crowd. Lily then silences your symphony with a kiss, one that’s brimmed with passion. She slides her tongue into your moaning mouth, as your muscles tense up everywhere.

Your cock shoots ropes after ropes inside her welcoming cunt, contracting at her own orgasm. Lily shudders in a rhythm, eyes rolling up, mouth ajar, letting her moans echo throughout the hallway. You feel a liquid being discharged onto your pubic bone - it’s her fucking squirt. Lily Jin Morrow fucking squirts with your cock cumming inside her. God.

After what feels like an eternity in paradise, both of your orgasms subsided. Your breaths are short, rapid, out of sync, together. Sweat gathers on her forehead, as she looks into your eyes, smiling without the familiar roughness for the first time.

“You did well, baby,” she says, before resting her messy head on your shoulder.

You chuckle at the fuzzy name. “So, no more ‘bitch boy’?”

“Not anymore,” Lily replies before planting a kiss on your cheek, smiling along with you. “Let’s go on a date.”

You playfully ask, “Is that another command from you, Lily?”

Lily chuckles. “Well, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You dart your eyes away onto the ceiling, contemplating her question. And the answer seemed to form itself in your mind.

“Yes.”

–

#lily #lily smut #lily nmixx #nmixx #nmixx smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #male reader smut

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howcouldmuffin · 3 months ago

Text

Suits Me.

With your sister wed, the realization dawns—you are next. Thus, you begin seeking what truly befits you.

PAIRING : Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

WARNING : KISS, Non-canon

AN : I’ve always thought of Gwayne as my ideal gentleman. I hope you enjoy this piece of writing. Love.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

“I desire a man of a composed nature, one who is not quick to anger.” you declared, your voice steady yet tinged with a hint of yearning. You were describing the ideal qualities of a husband to the person who shared the room with you, a figure whose attention seemed divided—though it was hard to tell if he was more captivated by your words or by the enchanting presence of the young woman who occupied his thoughts.

Your acquaintance with Sir Gwayne had begun rather serendipitously at your father’s most recent nuptials. He had attended in honor of his sister’s marriage, a grand affair where the echoes of laughter mingled with the clinking of goblets and the rustle of silk. It was on the secluded balcony, away from the festivities, that your paths first truly crossed. You, seeking solitude from the overwhelming company, had stumbled upon him, a knight known more for his quiet presence than for any overt display of gallantry. Initially, suspicion had flickered in your mind—was his interest in you born of some hidden agenda? But as the days passed, such thoughts faded into insignificance, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity.

“I see no reason for you to rush into choosing a suitor.” he remarked after a long stretch of contemplative silence, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts. His words caused you to pause, turning your gaze toward him as you rose from the sofa where you had been languidly reclined in the sanctuary of the library.

“I am not rushing.” you replied, your tone defensive but with a hint of introspection. “I am merely exercising prudence, weighing my options with care.”

“You are a princess.” he said, his voice soft yet firm, “and with that title comes the liberty to court whomever you wish. For now, would it not be wiser to savor the delights of youth? There is time yet for the bonds of matrimony.”

“Why do you persist in this notion that I should delay my marriage?” you inquired, a trace of exasperation slipping into your voice. “Surely, you do not speak from experience. Or perhaps.” you added, your eyes narrowing as a thought occurred to you, “you have never been married yourself?”

“And why would you assume that?” he countered, his surprise evident. With measured steps, you approached him, a new idea taking root in your mind. If you were to assist him in finding a suitable wife, perhaps it would broaden your own circle of acquaintance, and in turn, increase your chances of meeting a gentleman who might suit you.

“Perhaps you should consider marriage yourself.” you suggested, your voice taking on a tone of playful challenge. “Surely, there is a woman out there who could capture your heart.”

“That, I cannot entertain.” he replied, standing abruptly and distancing himself from you, his expression resolute, yet clouded with a faint shadow of unease.

“Since the day I met you, I have never known you to be attached to any woman.” you continued, undeterred. “Though you claim to have had lovers, I suspect such affairs occurred far from these walls. Perhaps helping you secure a match would aid me in finding a fiancé as well.”

“Princess.” he began, a note of reluctance in his voice, “I have no intentions of marrying anytime soon, for my heart is already given.”

“To whom?” you asked, the question slipping from your lips before you could restrain it.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I am not yet ready to divulge that secret, but I promise you, when the time is right, you will be the first to know.”

“Do I know her?” you pressed, curiosity now fully piqued.

“Indeed.” he replied, his voice tight, “you know her exceedingly well.”

“Then you must tell me!” you urged, stepping closer, your voice now filled with genuine concern. “How else can I assist you? If you do not act swiftly, another might claim her hand, and you would be left to mourn what could have been.”

“True.” he conceded, his lips curving into a faint smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “She is admired by many, but I believe no one could be a better match for her than I.”

“Who could challenge you?” you teased lightly. “You are the son of Otto, Hand of the King, a knight of great renown, brother to the Queen herself. You could have any lady you desire, perhaps even… me.”

“Ah, but what of her heart?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stepped closer still, his eyes locking with yours. “Guard your affections, Princess. Do not let them stray before I have a chance to make my claim.”

His nearness sent a jolt through you, your heart pounding in a way that was both exhilarating and unsettling. True, he was a man of striking appearance, his features carved as if by the hand of a master sculptor, but until this moment, the thought of him as your potential husband had never crossed your mind. Yet, his words carried an implication that left you breathless.

“Then I shall wish her well.” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you averted your gaze, the sudden rush of emotions overwhelming. “May she remain unattached until you are ready to speak your mind.”

With that, you turned away, retreating to the safety of the sofa, though the book you picked up could do little to quiet the turmoil within. Your heart rebelled against the calm you tried to project.

“I must take my leave now, Princess.” he said softly, the formal tone returning to his voice.

You nodded, unable to lift your eyes to meet his, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. It was not often that you found yourself flustered in the presence of a man, especially one who was so highly sought after by others. You had often admired him from afar, and in truth, he would make a most suitable match. But it seemed fate had other plans, for his heart was already spoken for. And as for yours—well, that remained to be seen.

“Smile a bit, Sir Gwayne. The children are watching.” you whispered softly to him as he demonstrated the basic weapons of a knight, a spectacle meant to both instruct and inspire the eager young minds gathered around.

“I only came with you because you said your usual knight was unavailable.” he murmured through gritted teeth, ensuring his words reached no ears but yours. Yet, despite his reluctance, he obliged the children’s requests with a weary smile that, though tinged with exasperation, made you stifle a laugh.

“Consider it a favor to me.” you replied with a playful lilt. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

After the day’s visit to the townsfolk concluded, you returned to your chambers, where you indulged in a long, warm bath, washing away the dust and the fatigue of the day. You dressed anew, choosing a gown of soft gold, simple yet elegant, and arranged your hair with modest care. Just as you were about to step out to join your family for the evening meal, you found someone already waiting outside your door.

“You should have knocked. You could have waited inside my room.” you said as you closed the door behind you. “Are you here to claim the favor I owe you?”

“No.” he replied, his tone even. “The Queen sent me to fetch you. It seems you’re running a bit late.”

“In that case, we should hurry.”

You took the lead as you walked down the corridor, your footsteps echoing lightly against the stone floor. Though he was not originally meant to join the family at dinner, your father, ever the gracious host, had extended an invitation when he saw an empty seat beside you. It was a small surprise, but a welcome one—you would have a chance to speak with him more about the day’s events.

The meal progressed smoothly, with conversation flowing freely around the table. As was his custom, Sir Gwayne offered to escort you back to your chambers once the evening had drawn to a close, just as he had done on other nights following shared meals or court gatherings. Despite the growing rumors circulating about the two of you, you paid them little mind, though you couldn’t help but worry that they might affect the woman Gwayne held in his heart.

“Perhaps we should keep more distance from each other.” you said quietly as you walked the familiar path back to your room.

“Why?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Is there someone you’ve set your heart on?”

“No, nothing like that” you replied, shaking your head. “But the rumors about us are becoming more frequent, and I don’t think it bodes well for either of us.” He looked at you, confusion etched across his face. “If I were in love with someone, I wouldn’t want him to be linked to another woman through idle gossip.”

To your surprise, he chuckled. “So, you’re concerned about me, then?”

You nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise in your cheeks. Your heart betrayed you once more, beating far too quickly for your liking. Without thinking, you quickened your pace, desperate to hide the warmth spreading across your face. Noticing this, Gwayne lengthened his strides to match yours.

“I don’t pay any mind to those rumors.” he said, his tone casual. “But I suppose it would be unseemly for our Princess to be the subject of such talk, especially if it involves me.” His words left you with a strange sense of disappointment, though you could not quite understand why. A slight irritation flared within you, unbidden and unexplained.

“I’m not concerned about it at all.” you answered dismissively, brushing off his comment as you reached your door. “Goodnight.” you added curtly, before stepping inside and closing the door behind you, leaving him to stand, perplexed, outside your chamber.

In the grand ballroom, with its resplendent chandeliers casting a warm, golden light, you found yourself entwined in a dance with Lord Cedric. His conversation, though amiable and courteous, failed to hold your full attention. Your gaze kept drifting toward Sir Gwayne, who, amidst a throng of eager admirers, was the center of attention. His presence, commanding and dignified, was accentuated by the swarm of women vying for his favor.

“Princess… Princess.” Lord Cedric’s voice, tinged with concern, reached you, rousing you from your daydream.

“My apologies, Lord Cedric.” you said with a slight blush, your voice betraying an edge of fatigue. “I have grown rather weary this evening and must take my leave.”

You disengaged from the dance and, with purposeful strides, sought refuge at the nearest table, where a decanter of wine awaited. The crystalline goblet, filled with rich, ruby-red liquid, seemed to beckon you. The wine’s warmth spread through you, a balm to the unrest that you could not quite fathom.

As the wine flowed, so did your inhibitions. The haze of intoxication lent you a boldness that you might not otherwise possess. Lords continued to solicit your company for dances, and you accepted with a newfound abandon. The evening’s merriment, combined with the wine’s effects, made you more flirtatious than usual. Your movements, graceful and deliberate, drew admiring gazes and appreciative murmurs. You felt the hands of various suitors, some daringly touching your waist, others almost reaching for more intimate areas. Each time, you managed to redirect their attention with practiced ease.

“Lord Cedric.” you said, your voice laced with a suggestive lilt as you gripped his broad shoulder, “you truly have a knack for making this evening delightful. I can scarcely imagine how fortunate the woman who wins your hand will be.”

Your eyes locked with his, and you leaned in slightly, allowing his hands to encircle your waist with a languid familiarity. The atmosphere between you was charged, almost palpable.

But just as the moment seemed to reach its zenith, Sir Gwayne appeared, a determined look on his face. He grasped your wrist with a firm yet gentle hold, guiding you away from the revelry. His stride was brisk, forcing you to keep pace, and you found yourself pleading for him to slow down.

Upon reaching a quieter, more secluded corridor, he finally halted. You steadied yourself, the wine’s effects making your head spin and your heart race.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low but intense. “You’re behaving like a courtesan in a disreputable establishment.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” you replied, a mix of confusion and indignation coloring your voice. “I am merely enjoying myself.”

��That Lord was on the brink of kissing you!” he exclaimed, his frustration evident. “Do you not realize how forward he was? How could you permit such liberties?”

“It is merely the way of dancing.” you said, though his words stung more than you cared to admit. “You are overreacting.”

“But you are a Princess.” he said, his voice softening but still firm. “It is unbecoming of you to act so… freely. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling a tinge of remorse as his anger seemed to dissipate. Despite the tumult of emotions swirling within you, you did not wish to return to the ball. Instead, you expressed your desire to retire to your chamber. With no choice but to carry you, Sir Gwayne lifted you with a tenderness that belied his earlier agitation.

In the solitude of your room, he placed you gently on the bed. He meticulously arranged the blankets, ensuring your comfort as he tucked them around you. As he adjusted the cover over your chest, you reached out and took his hand, your touch lingering.

The proximity between you was electric, and the tension between you both was almost tangible. With a deep breath, you lifted your face to his and pressed your lips against his. The kiss, initially hesitant, soon grew into a tender exchange of passion and longing. However, as you began to regain your clarity, you pulled away, a mixture of regret and yearning in your eyes.

Sir Gwayne, his expression one of profound turmoil, rose swiftly from the bed. “I am deeply sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive me.” he stammered, his voice a strained whisper. Without waiting for a response, he fled the room, leaving you alone amidst a swirl of conflicting emotions.

As you lay there, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily upon you. The room seemed colder now, the remnants of your emotional turmoil hanging in the air. Your heart ached with a mix of sorrow and unspoken affection, knowing that this moment, however fleeting, had altered everything between you.

The air is thick with scandalous whispers, each rumor more outrageous than the last. Tales circulate of him entering your chamber under the cover of night, while you, bereft of clarity due to your inebriation and unattended by your maidens, were left exposed to gossip and innuendo. The degradation of his reputation and your own only compounds your deepening sense of remorse.

A maid enters your chamber with a solemn expression, announcing, “His Majesty requests your presence, Your Highness.”

You nod, masking your trepidation with a veneer of composure. “I shall go.” you reply.

As you traverse the grand corridors toward the royal study, your heart beats with an uneasy rhythm. The room before you, adorned with opulent tapestries and the grandeur befitting the royal court, now feels stifling. Your father, seated at his imposing desk, appears stern and unyielding, while Gwayne, standing by the window, avoids your gaze with a palpable discomfort.

The air is thick with tension as your father begins, his voice laden with disapproval. “There have been alarming rumors regarding Sir Gwayne. Pray, elucidate what has transpired.”

You turn to Gwayne, his demeanor averted, his countenance a study in restraint. “I.. well, Sir Gwayne was merely kind enough to escort me to my chamber after I became somewhat indisposed due to excessive libations—”

“Is that so?” your father interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his palm on the desk with a force that echoes through the room. “You allowed a gentleman, not of the King’s Guard, to carry you in such a state? What of my honor? What of the propriety expected of a princess?”

Viserys collapses into his high-backed chair, his hand pressed to his forehead in exasperation. The grand room, with its rich wood paneling and gilded accents, seems to close in around you.

Otto, ever the pragmatist, interjects with a stern resolve, “I believe we must act swiftly, Your Majesty. A marriage between the princess and Sir Gwayne should be arranged without delay.”

The very thought of such an arrangement sends a shiver down your spine. You are acutely aware of Gwayne’s likely opposition to this forced union.

“He only helped me to my room.” you argue, your voice a blend of desperation and defiance. “Nothing untoward occurred. If we proceed with this marriage, it will only serve to validate the most nefarious rumors.”

“Enough!” Your father’s voice booms, cutting through the air with finality. “Return to your quarters and prepare yourself for what is to come.”

Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, you steal a final glance at Gwayne, who stands with a look of profound disappointment. The realization that you have brought shame upon him, as well as upon yourself, weighs heavily upon you. You hasten from the study, tears streaming freely, unable to meet his eyes.

“Wait!” Gwayne’s voice rings out, halting you in your tracks. You turn slowly, your face streaked with the evidence of your sorrow.

“I… I am deeply sorry,” you manage to stammer, your voice quaking with emotion. “I am truly, truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, a mix of bewilderment and tenderness in his eyes. “What is it that you are apologizing for?”

“I..I made you marry me instead of the one you truly love.” you stammer, tears continuing to flow down your cheeks.

“Oh, my dearest.” Gwayne murmurs softly, gently wiping away your tears with his calloused fingers. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as he lifts your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. “The one I love is you.”

His confession leaves you momentarily stunned, the enormity of his words sinking in with a gradual, dawning clarity. Your heart races as you begin to piece together the puzzle of his actions. The hesitation to accept a forced marriage, his repeated offers to escort you to your chambers, the lingering kisses on your hand, and the intense, unwavering glances—all of it now falls into place. He had never been indifferent; rather, he had been hiding his true feelings, perhaps out of a sense of duty or a fear of scandal.

A wave of realization washes over you, and with trembling lips, you respond, “I love you too. No one is more suited to me than you, Sir Gwayne.”

His eyes, filled with a blend of relief and profound emotion, search yours. The air between you seems to shimmer with unspoken promises and the weight of unvoiced sentiments. He pulls you close, his arms encircling you with a warmth that speaks of earnest affection and unwavering devotion. For a moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the two of you in your shared understanding.

As he holds you, the reality of your feelings and his becomes undeniable. The burdens of misunderstanding and the weight of societal expectations dissolve, giving way to a future you both secretly yearned for. The tumultuous emotions of the past days seem to settle into a quiet resolve as you both embrace the newfound truth of your hearts.

#‧⁺◟ lyn writing table *•#gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

Text

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: lucerys velaryon witnesses a moment he should've never laid eyes upon.

warnings: explicit language. fluff and girl dad!aemond. aemond also spits sexy poetry at his girl. uhhh lucerys signing his death warrant maybe???

notes: hehehehe i'm enjoying this pairing SO MUCH GUYS

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

It is Lucerys Velaryon, three and ten, that catches onto the relationship, though it was by honest mistake on his part. Or a stupid decision, perhaps. He never meant to lay eyes on such an intimate yet indecent moment.

The dinner held an hour before was an embarrassment to his family, that he understood quite well. It was wrong for him to provoke his uncle into a fury and, even worse, to allow his temper to flare past reasonable judgment. His right cheek still throbbed where his uncle Aegon slammed him hard against the table, nicking his browbone with the edge of the plate. But it was the look his mother gave him that seemed to float before him in the hallway’s darkness, against the very stones of the Red Keep.

She was disappointed in him, very much so. Daemon too, probably.

Lucerys felt the great need to apologize.

It clambered up his throat and settled deep within his head, causing his stomach to roil and fingers to tremble.

He needed to apologize.

So he stands before his uncle Aemond’s chamber, counting his breaths in some wretched attempt to steel his nerves. One, two, three….four, five, six….he repeats in his mind, over and over, as his knuckles ghost over the door…but then he notices the slight crack between the two doors. His eyebrow raises. It is large enough to peer inside, where he hears a soft voice, young and feminine.

His mother always did say he was naturally curious during boyhood, but she also would say that curiosity killed the cat, and snooping was a nasty habit for a realm’s prince to pick up. Against his better nature, Lucerys leans in for a small peak.

Lucerys recognizes her as his uncle’s personal handmaid- a young maid, fair and cheerful and beautiful. She smiled at him in the earlier hour, at both him and his brothers, when she passed by the three carrying a handful of freshly washed linens. He remembers it quite well, actually. Despite being clothed in plain servant rags, he had thought she was absolutely lovely. And she had been the only one to spare him a sliver of kindness, no prudence.

He saw her again later in the day, trailing after Aemond. His handmaid, Prince Daemon mumbled to his mother, a smirk on his lips. Ah, but a maid of her beauty does not stay one for long. His mother ignored that, and he tried to as well.

Inside the room, he sees the pretty handmaid rocking in a chair, clutching a tiny babe to her chest. Back and forth, forth and back.

No, he soon realizes, dark eyes widening. The babe is feeding from her breasts. Was she a wet nurse as well? Lucerys tilted his head at the thought. She did not look old enough to be considered one, the majority being well in his senior. He watches as she continues rocking, singing a lullaby beneath her breath before bringing the babe’s plump face to her lips for a kiss.

“The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children….the Crone is very wise and old, and sees our fates as they unfold. She lifts her lamp of shining gold to lead the little children….”

His uncle then steps behind her, leaning to kiss her brow before her lips. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Lucerys hears the handmaid say, smiling up at Aemond. He grins, nodding. “Absolutely beautiful. A mirror of her mother, I’d say,” and he kneels to one knee beside the chair, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. He kisses the bare skin there- once, twice, thrice, and his mouth moves, but Lucerys cannot hear what he is telling her.

Whatever it is, though, it makes his handmaid giggle and shy away, shifting her gaze back on the babe.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

His nuncle sighs. “My girl, my love, I’ve told you before- I love anything and everything you give me,” and he reaches forward to take the babe in his arms, cuddling her close, “-but you have answered my wishes. You have given to me the most beautiful daughter, with your eyes and enchanting smile and nose.” Aemond glances at her, then bring her palm to his lips and mumbles against it, “And I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I have only done my duty, my prince. I am, as always, your humble servant.”

Aemond rolls his eye. “If I could give it, the realm would be yours, and you would rule as its queen. No more a fucking servant.”

The handmaid shakes her head, laughing as she leans back in the rocking chair. “I have no need for a realm; I’m quite content in having your bed and children as mine, my love.”

Ah. His uncle Aemond One-Eye has bastards. How many, Lucerys does not know, but the babe swaddled within Aemond’s arms is his and the handmaid’s, no doubt. He wants to let out the bark of bitter laughter bubbling inside his chest, to scream at the heavens and curse out any listening gods, before running to tell Jacaerys and Lady Baela and his Rhaena. Lucerys turns his attention back to his uncle. How dare he mock his bastard origins when he himself is fathering his own handmaid’s children.

To the health of my nephews- Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. ‘Twas only a compliment…do you not think yourself strong?

How dare he act any better. How fucking dare he. Aemond’s words did not wound him as much as before, not with the bastard baby lying in his arms.

It leaves Lucerys’s head pounding to the same beat as his heart. Bum. Bum. Bum. But then his breath hitches in his throat when his uncle lifts his head up, a lone purple eye meeting his own. Aemond gives him a cool stare. Dead. Dead. Dead. He rises to his feet, gently resting his daughter back in her mother’s arms, before standing in front of his handmaid, barring any further view of her.

“Aemond, what is it?”

Lucerys quickly pulls back from the door, stumbling and falling on his ass. All he can hear now is his heart hammering in both his ears and his uncle’s heavy footsteps looming closer and closer. “Aemond?” the handmaid’s voice calls out, loud and honeyed. “Where are you going?”

To murder me, the prince thinks, jumping to his feet. He turns to sprint down the hallway, braving only one final glance over his shoulder. What he sees terrifies him.

Aemond stands at the door, staring at him with a narrowed eye. The same glare he gave him during the dinner, cold and filled with pure animosity. If the Stranger was to be a mortal man, Lucerys would believe him to be his uncle, especially at this moment. There is a message twisted in his sharp features, in the furrow of his brows, the sneer curled on his lips, and the dagger clasped in his hand.

He won’t live much longer, less if his tongue shares what he witnessed tonight.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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m0chisenpai · 2 months ago

Note

Louis x reader x Armand

The reader is a witch and she meets Armand and Louis and Claudia when going to watch a vampire play. They are mesmerized by her enchanting presence, wondering what and who she is

superstitious

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

˚｡⋆ platonic!claudia x black!fem!reader

in which the missing piece fills the gaps

author note: We're gonna play with the idea that Louis has somewhat integrated into coven life

Another night of plays. And a new role for Claudia. A nod to the past, Claudia plays the maid to Marie Antoinette who witnesses both affairs and murders of the king and queen.

The role is silent, but it is better than falling out a window every singe night in that godforsaken blue dress. At least she could be a woman for the many nights to come. She'll give Louis that little credit due.

As always, Louis assumes his usual spot, watching his sister perform while his companion sits above. There is peace between all three. And at the same time, a feeling of lonesome resides. Like there is something missing. He assumed Madeline would fill it, a fledgling that he felt such pride and dare say love.

But the loneliness remained. She could feel it in him. But Louis would brush her curious gaze aside.

Until that evening when she enters.

Armand smells her before she even steps foot into the theatre. It is rich, it is new. It almost smells familiar of his previous years abroad. Whoever is here, their blood sings to his dead heart. It begs for him to consume it, to be bathed in it.

Had an ancient one found their way back? He looks down into the seats. Soldiers, husbands and wives, students fill the house. But he sees nothing.

Louis catches Armand's gaze, he sees his gaze, 'what is it?'

'Something is here. An ancient thing or being. I do not know what it is. But there is power in it.'

His gaze shifts to Medline, 'keep watch over yourself and your companion.'

"One ticket please!" The dressed up vampire hands the young woman her ticket which she holds between gloved hands. She felt out of place in her softer colors against the dark theatre, but she always did stick out. Perhaps the vampire assumed her to be a child, she certainly exuded such child like excitement as she skipped into the theatre

"Vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires," you whisper to yourself in awe finding your seat. "How dramatic, Prudence was right. But when is she never?"

The act begins. Murder marks the end of all the scenes and your laughter is like a bell in the vampires ears. Armand searched but can not find you nor can Louis pinpoint your presence. But a magnetizing feeling washes over their bodies.

Then the final act happens. The vampire troupe feast on the woman and silence fills the theatre. But you stand in loud applause shouting your praise in French. And it is as though the world ends when all three look upon you. Even though the applause thunders over your praise, they hear it so loudly.

How your eyes shimmer in praise, how your pearly white smile lights the room. Claudia freezes with the blood dripping along her lips. Trying to remember your face as the curtains pull shut. Armand watches as you look up, nodding your head giving your applause to him now.

But Louis, oh he wants you then and there. But the crowd keeps him from meeting you in the aisles as you quickly move out.

You may appreciate the arts, but you know not to engage those much farther up the food chain.

"Oh sisters it was wondrous as you said!" you whisper in awe as you tie your scarf looking in to the mirror of your flat.

"Did I not tell you it was a delight, though in their early days they were more Shakespearean. I suppose they choose to cater to their English crowd now."

"And times are changing sister dear. some of us have not graced this land as long as you have," you smirk as she gasps at your retort.

"And did you see the leader? Is he not handsome!" Your fellow sister Urydice exclaims moving Prudence aside to stand in front of the mirror. Her milky white gaze grounds you as she press forward closer.

"He was..beautiful." you shyly whisper and the girl squeals.

"Oh you must approach them! you must! if not for you then for romance my sister!" She was always the most romantic of you all. Each of your sisters had their areas of the arts they adored. And your dear sister favored love above all.

"Enough girls return to your chambers."

"Yes Mother." You whisper your goodbyes to all the girls until she sits in front. Your leader, the mother of your group. She is old and wise from the many lifetimes she has survived, but no age touches her complexion. Her hair large and thick is braided back and you realize how much you miss your mother.

"My darling," she whispers with a smile on her lips "I see you are adjusting well to the city of love." You quickly nod, folding your hands tight in your lap. "Be safe. These vampires hold great power. And they have numbers. Until we have arrived you are to not engage them, please my dear."

"Yes mother," you bow your head and press a kiss to your pointer and middle finger pressing it to the glass. And as soon as she does the same all that is left is your reflection.

You should listen to her, but you don't. You ponder and mull over the many protection casts that could offer you a chance to possibly approach. But in the end you toss any ideas aside and blow all the candles out and raise a hand to dim the lamps as well.

And as you shed your robe to slip into your bed. The golden eyes that watch from your balcony disappear into the night.

That next night you sit at the cafe writing letters to your scattered sisters. Some in English, three in French and the one in Italian you work on slowly, whispering your thoughts to yourself.

"You're not from here ma'am? Haven't heard Italian before," the young girl sitting in front of you startles you, but you keep your face neutral. The younger ones are far more dangerous. Quick tempered, more fierce.

You smile at her and shake your head. "No, I am not. But Italy is not my home unfortunately." You sip from your glass of coffee. "I must say you are an exceptional actress. The breath was taken right out of me, especially at the end."

"Thank you, years of practice led me here."

"From...America?" you guess, no you know.

Her eyes widen as does her smile, "how'd you know?"

"Southern accent. Heard it growing up when I was a bit younger than you, course till we moved and such."

"Claudia, what'd I tell you bout disturbing folks?"

You hate to admit how the man who joins you both at the table makes your eyes widen. The way he places his hand on the back of her chair, appearing from the entrance inside the cafe to sit beside her. Your cheeks feel hot as his gaze settles upon you. You seem to have some affect as well because he is no longer chiding at the girl.

"No, she is fine sir. Just some simple conversation is all" you tilt your head, "your daughter I am assuming?"

"Ah well...yes" he fumbles his words. "Lost her mother and wound up here for some time."

"How sweet," you smile at the two now bundling your letters to drop at the post hoping the tremble of your hand is unnoticeable. "I should be taking my leave now. It was lovely to speak to you both."

"Claudia," she quickly shakes your hand when you step to her.

"Louis."

They wish you could stay. But you toss the necessary amount by your cup and leave the two behind to watch you walk down the stony path. You move slowly, hoping the urgency in your leaving goes unnoticed. Where two are gathered surely a secret third will try and interceded. To make you a meal.

One night turns into two, then three when you return again it has been a challenging week. A week of you trying to avoid that theatre, but they call out to you in the night. "Come, come to us." It's as though they sit by your windows whispering, begging for you. But the leader requests your presence tonight.

One of the women leads you to where he sits. The only empty seat beside him is where you situate yourself.

"When did he turn you?"

"Don't have a creator." You whisper, eyes remaining on the stage. They flicker to Louis who looks up, giving you a smile which you quickly return along with a small wave.

"You know we are not human, yet you yourself are not one of us," now his head turns to look at you. "But you do not smell mortal. And your presence...it is unusual."

"I smell?"

"Nothing like the boys of war I can assure you, it is not unwelcoming" Armand can not help the smallest of smiles when he hears your sigh of relief. "But I must ask you again. What are you if not human?"

You hesitate, remembering the words of your mother. "We are not human. In the past humans maddened by thoughts of God and Satan killed us one by one. They stopped it from being publicized but they still hunt us to this day running us into the shadows of the night and to all corners of this world."

"You are a witch?"

"We refrain from calling ourselves that," your hand rests against a necklace. The very one all of you share engraved with an ancient sigil, the metal untouched by the years you have owned it. "We are scattered across the world to avoid any more unnecessary murders."

You pause to clap for Claudia, smiling as she grins up at you at the end of her act.

"Will you be in France for long?" Armand asks once you sit back down.

"I would like to be. Rome was for a moment. And I am not sure I wish to return again to Greece, though I miss the waters." Armand returns his gaze down to Claudia and Louis both steal glances at him.

"If you stay here, I can gurantee your safety."

Claudia adores you and spends any moment she can to hear about your travels. Taking you to Madeline's shop where the young fledgling happily dresses and styles you and around the city while Louis walks around the city with you. Taking shots of you facing the moonlight or along the river. They are some of his best work.

Armand shows you artwork from the world. And some of his older works of plays dating back to the theatre's founding days.

Each of them can not help but feel you fill the gap in their hearts.

They feel dizzy just being in the midst of your presence.

Then one night, as you sit atop Armand's lap. Louis' hand settles at the back of your neck, squeezing it gently to pull your head to look up at him. Your bare chest heaves as Armand lays kisses upon it. There is something electric in the air, something magical in your eyes.

The candles burn brighter with each kiss. Flickering with your breathing, as though they are breathing with you.

"Stay with us," his voice a whisper. Your eyes remain on his. He whispers it again, "join us."

Your mothers words are drowned from the two. Their warnings are nothing but a fly in your ear which you swat away.

"Yes, please." Armand lets a soft hiss as he bites into the juncture of your neck while Louis bites into the other side. And it is like liquid fire fills your vein and fills theirs.

The candles flicker out at that very moment.

It is as though you are bonded to them in that moment.

Theirs for an eternity.

#iwtv #iwtv series #iwtv x reader #armand x reader #louis x reader #louis de pointe du lac x reader

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