#the kiss of deception cast

[mh49uwux]

My cast for The Kiss Of Deception:

Lia:

Kaden:

and Rafe:

alr thats it thank you ! ><

[angelsfat3]

ꮩ, 性玩具。 ⸻[midnight practices...]

Genre: smut, teacher's pet, coach!Sunghoon x iceskater!Malereader.

C/w: Sunghoon being possessively perverted, feminization, bottom reader, fingering, oral (sunghoon giving). － Tw: Curses, manipulation, victimization, crying.

A/N: I don't consider myself the best at writing smut, so that's why this is so simple.

╰╾ I still haven't finished writing the stories that I have planned to upload in a few days.

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The sound of skates scraping the ice echoed across the empty rink as you completed the last lap, your cheeks and nose completely red from the cold. Your breathing was heavy and your muscles burned from the effort, but there was something else weighing on his mind.

Sunghoon, your coach, was watching you from the edge, ogling you from the warm-up, his gaze seeming to pierce the ice and get right to you.

As you headed to the locker room, you felt the chill of the air on his hot skin. As you took off your jacket and gloves, you heard the door open and close behind you.

Sunghoon had entered, his presence always imposing, his figure casting a shadow that covered everything.

"You did a good job today," Sunghoon said, his voice soft, almost like a whisper. There was a certain intensity in his gaze, a hunger that you had learned to recognize and fear.

“Thank you, hyung,” you responded with a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. But your hands were shaking slightly as you removed the protections and slowly sat down on the wood bench.

Sunghoon approached slowly, his expression changing to a warm smile, but his eyes were those of a wolf stalking its prey. "[...], there is something I have wanted to tell you." His hand reached out, caressing one of your cheeks, before sliding up to your neck.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up to meet his eyes, you searched for a way to ignore the electric shock that Sunghoon's touch sent through your body.

You knew you should pull away, that you should say no, but something in you craved that forbidden touch, his lips kissing every part of your body would always be your favorite sin.

Sunghoon tilted his head, intensifying his gaze, fixated on you. "I've noticed you're distracted lately," he commented, his tone deceptively gentle."Your performance on the court has gone down. And I know it's because of that little friend of yours who's done using you."

You gulped, your defenses slowly crumbling, while he sounded worried, his words weren't the best. Sunghoon always knew how to get inside your head, how to find your weak points, in every sense of the word. "Yeah, it's been kind of hard..." you admitted, looking down.

Sunghoon smiled, a gesture that felt more predatory than sympathetic. "I know what you need, [...]. You need to forget all that. You need to stop worrying about things that don't matter." He said passing his knee between your legs, making you open them easily.

“But hyung, I'm not sure this is right,” you said as you noticed his growing erection, your voice shaky as you fought the desire to surrender to Sunghoon's touch. "Maybe I should leave before... before something else happens."

You didn't want to admit it, but you felt like with every encounter, something was pushing you closer to falling in love with him, something you knew shouldn't happen.

"Do you want to leave?" Sunghoon interrupted you, his tone more like a challenge than a question. "Fine, but then you won't be coming back again and I doubt you want that, [...]"

The words hit you like a slap. The possibility of losing everything you had built terrified you more than anything, and Sunghoon knew it. "No, I don't want that," you finally muttered, your resistance breaking.

Sunghoon leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours to the point where your lips were constantly brushing, pressing a soft but insistent kiss against your lips.

His skillful hands began to work, slipping under your shirt and slowly lifting it up, setting it to your side, enjoying every centimeter of skin that he was revealing with his fingertips.

"I'm not just doing this because I want to help you, [...]," he said between kisses, his lips moving with calculated precision, biting your lower lip between moments. "I do it because I love you and because you're mine."

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the words as you lightly rested your hands on his shoulders, Sunghoon's touch stronger than your will. "But...what about your wife? s-she's pregnant" you tried to protest, though your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

Sunghoon let out a soft laugh, a sound that was not entirely pleasant. "She has nothing to do with us. This moment is ours alone," he stated, his voice confident as his hands moved to your pants, decisively tearing them and your underwear apart, getting rid of them in one swift motion.

Sunghoon began to mark his way up your neck, then down to your bare chest, marking his territory with hot kisses and small bites on your nipples. A couple of gasps took over your mouth, your body responding to every touch, every whispered word Sunghoon said in your ear.

His fingers focused on caressing and squeezing your nipples, while he was in charge of kissing and noticeably marking your neck, the most sensitive areas of you. You could only moan unconsciously near his ear as you looked for a way to push him, with your eyes closed.

As soon as you regained your senses and sight, you saw your teacher on his knees, running his hands over your waist briefly.

Sunghoon was lowering his lips past your belly, his hands were firm, separating your legs in the best way, leaving your semi-erect cock in view, With the skill of a master who knows his apprentice well, he let out a soft laugh. "Do you realize how perfect you are because of me?" Sunghoon whispered as his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, planting searing kisses that left a trail of heat in their wake. "Let me enjoy what I've harvested, okay?

You couldn't help but let out a moan when Sunghoon continued his exploration, lowering his head slightly just to lick your balls, his mouth moving towards your member quickly, almost instantly enveloping your glans with his lips.

The feeling of his tongue moving in circles against your tip sent waves of pleasure through your body, causing your little flesh to finish erecting, releasing a bit of precum.

Sunghoon used his tongue skillfully, the way he put your member inside his mouth was making you go blank, Your hands were squeezing the wood of the bench and your stomach only knew how to contract from the sensation.

Every movement was calculated, every touch measured to elicit maximum pleasure, like an artist who knows exactly how to pluck each string to pluck the perfect note.

Unexpectedly, Sunghoon laid you down on the bench, giving him greater access to your body. Without wasting any time, he inserted two of his fingers inside you without warning, pretending it was his big meat by the way he started pounding into you.

Tears began to flood your eyes and begin to overflow down your cheeks, the way he moved his head up and down and his tongue moved in a circular motion at the same time, one of his hands gently massaging your balls and the other sinking to the depths of you, managing to caress your sweet spot with his middle finger, it was what had you writhing on the bench.

Your back was arched and your moans were muffled, you were nowhere near reaching your first orgasm, you were so close that it had you rolling your eyes.

In a matter of seconds Sunghoon stopped, retreating slightly with an enigmatic smile. You gasped in discontent, your body shaking from a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire. “Hyung, please…” you begged, your voice so broken with longing and crying.

"First you tell me you don't want this, and now you're begging me like a fucking cock whore. Who understands you?" Sunghoon asked, his eyes shining with a mixture of superiority and cruel delight. "No matter how much you try to hide it, [...], you will always like to have me around. You ask for it just with the way you look at me."

While you were struggling to breathe, you were searching for the words necessary to excuse the reason for your prayers towards him, but you only remained speechless when you felt his fingers enter suddenly, again pretending that these were his fat member, which you never missed after each practice.

Your body lay caught in a storm of sensations as Sunghoon teased your hole and cock, giving you pleasure but denying you the relief you so desperately needed.

The torture continued when, as he moved his tongue over your tip, he made thrusts with his fingers, moving them like scissors near your innocent spot. Time seemed to stop as your teacher kept you on edge, his words full of manipulation, love and hate echoing in your head.

Finally, when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Sunghoon intensified his attention. His tongue moved with lethal precision, his lips wrapping around your glans and slowly sinking his head, pressing your tip against the roof of his mouth.

You felt on cloud nine every time you heard his fingers grind hard against your skin and the way he made a kind of hook with his fingers every time he caressed your sweet prostate, Your legs trembled with poverty and your tears constantly slid down your face.

The heat of Sunghoon's mouth and the expert movement of his tongue combined wave after wave of pleasure that spread through every cell of your body, causing you to arch your back and let out a gasp, cumming steadily into his mouth.

Each spasm was a mix of sharp pleasure and painful sweetness, with Sunghoon enjoying the absolute control he had over you, causing spasms that seemed to have no end.

Even after the wave of orgasms had passed, Sunghoon continued to suck, his tongue moving like a wave over every corner of your member, prolonging your hypersensitivity, until your tearful sobs, completely overwhelmed, begged him to stop.

A sly smile formed on the taller man's face, stopping the movement of his fingers and tongue, slowly removing your small dick from his cavity.

When he finally pulled out, Sunghoon wiped the corners of his mouth with a satisfied gesture, wearing the shirt he had taken off you at the beginning, his gaze fixed on you, who lay exhausted and vulnerable on the bench. "I hope that can help you focus tomorrow," Sunghoon said, his voice a mix of authority and disdain. "Don't disappoint me, or I'll have to get another apprentice, and believe me, I really like having this internship with just you, [...]."

You could barely respond with a moan, your mind was completely clouded by the experience, your body continued to shake with post-orgasm.

You stared at nothing, running your hands all over your body, especially over your stomach, watching as Sunghoon stood up and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty locker room.

Just before the door closed, you heard a clicking sound, as if Sunghoon had finished recording something.

The idea came to you strongly, filling you with a mixture of fear and vulnerability.

When you were left alone in the silence of the locker room, you finally felt the weight of the situation fall on you. Each encounter with Sunghoon plunged you deeper into an abyss you didn't know how to escape, trapped between desire and guilt.

You had uncertainty digging into your mind, thinking quietly, "What if he's been recording this whole time? What am I going to do if he decides to use it against me?"

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메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I was having a mental battle, deciding whether to upload it or not. I promise to update more often.

아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara.

[prying-pandora666]

Rings of Power is Insidiously Sexist

And I’m tired of pretending none of us can see it.

If you enjoy the show, please don’t take this as an attack on you. All media has problematic elements and we all do the best we can in a messed up world. My ire is reserved strictly for the people making these “creative” choices.

The way the show treats Galadriel is misogynistic.

Turning the kind, matronly sage imbued with divine wisdom by the light of the two trees into a naive, selfish hothead who gets ship baited with both the villain AND her son-in-law for titillation is incredibly sexist.

They wouldn’t have had Elrond kiss his father-in-law to “save” him. Everyone would’ve rightfully been disgusted. So why is it okay to do this to Galadriel?

Elrond wouldn’t kiss Gil-Galad, or Celebrimbor, or his bff Durin to “save” them. We would all recognize this as sloppy OOC writing just meant to stir up shippers. So why is it acceptable to do to Galadriel? Being a female character is not an invitation to use her as fan service ship bait. Not once but TWICE.

The way the score swells and the kiss is deep and framed as romantic (even though he’s handing her something and didn’t need to shove himself on her like that at all!), despite the fact that Galadriel is married and elves are by nature monogamous (so much so that forcing yourself on them can even KILL them). As if everything about the narrative framing is subconsciously telling you to ignore Galadriel’s POV and the discomfort she would be feeling and be moved by how “meaningful” this kiss is. But also it’s a deception so don’t get mad! So incredibly transparent.

The fact that they also made her an arrogant idiot that fell for Sauron’s manipulations, when in Tolkien’s canon she is described as one of first to see through him, is also a telling choice. Especially when it would’ve made more sense to have Celebrimbor be the one manipulated and fooled.

So why have it be Galadriel? Why not do their weird ship-teasing bullshit between Annatar and Celebrimbor? At least it might serve the story then.

It’s because she is “female elf”, and therefore she has to be mean, violent, selfish, and stupid. But she isn’t allowed to be criticized either! That’s their idea of a “strong” female character.

So yeah. Personally I find that incredibly sexist.

So for that, I rate ROP a big old “cast it into the fire”.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams

[someprettyname]

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖑 & 𝕯𝖊𝖗𝖓

You mean the world to him, and he wouldn't hesitate in letting the world know. 

Characters : Isagi Yoichi

Contains : pro!isagi x childhood best friend!reader, no use of y/n if that helps, accidental/abrupt confession, pining except for you'll love it. No smut here but they're both aged up because that fits the story line. He basically kisses you in a full stadium, yes it's a hard launch fic. 

Moodboard : click here 

[ best viewed in dark mode ]

Silent anticipation buzzed through the loud cheers as you take your seat in the VIP stands, fingers fidgeting in your lap. You inhale deeply, eyes following him without a break as the whistle blows - marking the start of one of the most important match you know that he'll ever play. 

"Next match is the final." Your soft words echoed in the peacefully flowing air, fingers interlaced with his as you both walked back after his practice. The warm golden glow of the setting sun casting a shadow behind you.

"Yeah. It is." He replied softly, trying not to disturb the peace that your presence always bought him. 

You hum softly, eyes staring at a distance as you smile softly. "You'll win." You say as a matter of fact. So much that it takes even him aback. 

He chuckls softly, but of course he understands that feeling. He'd have said the same if he was in your place. "You have so much confidence in me huh?" His words dissipate in the air leaving behind an essence of gratitude, a smile playing at his lips as his thumb brush across your knuckles. 

You shake your head, finally turning to him. "I have a feeling. A premonition."

You tried telling yourself it was fine every time something went down in the match, but even so you couldn't really help the way your heart would sink. It wasn't rational at all, and that's annoying but heart wants what it wants. Isn't it? 

"Me?" You tilt your head, blinking as you look away. "I've been in love for years."

His heart skipped not one but a few beats. A few too many. A weird sense of relief but disappointment taking over him. "Years?" he repeated quietly, trying to process the information, wondering who it was you had been pining for all this time.

"But we're both young, so I'm waiting. Waiting till he and I are both successful and stable enough in our careers." You justify, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to take apart time when he's a part of something as time taking as blue lock. Not that you mind. You can wait for him your whole life, what's a few years anyways? It's almost selfish in a way. Scary even, because what if he doesn't feel the same? He's the one for you, but are you the one for him? 

Jealousy bubbled up in his chest as his fingers squeezed your skin. It was something he did that he didn't even realise, but you did. Of course you did. You always did. 

He tried to push those feelings aside and feigned indifference, even though his heart was racing. "I see...and who's the lucky guy?"

"I can't tell you now." Your calm voice echoes in his anxious curiosity, piercing a hot burning hopelessness through it. 

His skin crawls in frustration. "There's no way he's good enough for her." He thinks silently but doesn't dare utter a word about it.

"Why not? Afraid i'll judge him or something?"

"No. I know you won't." You say easily, with lot of trust and self belief, "It's just not the right time."

Your unwavering trust in him makes his heart squeeze in his chest, eyes scanning your expression for any signs of deception, but you'd always been a honest person, hadn't you? 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But you'll tell me one day, right?"

You hum and smile softly, "Of course." Voice settling on oblivious ears. 

Who will tell him it's him that you've been in love with? 

He squeezed your hand lightly, a small comfort gesture. Was he trying to comfort himself or you, he didn't know. He tried to push down the feeling of jealousy that still lingered in his chest and feigned a smile back at you. 

"I'll hold you to that."

The crowd roars and the final whistle blows as the ball rolls down the net and within few seconds he had Hiori and others tackling him down. 

He had won. 

They had won. 

Japan had won the WORLD CUP. 

Yet. Yet all he could think of was you. Your words ringing in his ears, and this was not the first time that happened this evening. 

"But we're both young, so I'm waiting. Waiting till he and I are both successful and stable enough in our careers." 

He parts from his teammates, eyes scanning intently through the crowd at the VIP stands, craving to be met with yours. Not only was he a pro player now but also a world champion.

"...successful and stable enough in our careers..."  

The wait was over. You already had a high paying job and your career was blooming, now he had caught up too. If you were to confess, this would be the moment right? 

No. 

Scratch that. He has had enough of that. 

The moment you're in front of him HE will lay out his heart clear and bare for you to take care of. And if you happen to step on it he'd swallow that pill with a smile too, it's better than this untold distance between you both anyways. 

"Yoichi?" 

"Yeah?" Your eyes pierce through him when he looks at you, as if you were calculating every of his reaction. Not that he minds, you were like this some times. 

"Am I being stupid?"

He frowns, "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that? What happened?"

You hum looking away, "You know....he doesn't know someone's been in love with him for YEARS now. But I'm here, hoping he won't go find any other girl..." You look down, a hint of hurt in your expression as you sigh, "...but how is he ever supposed to know? Am I stupid for hoping so much?"

He felt a pang in his chest as he saw the hurt expression on your face. One thing he just can't tolerate is seeing you sad or hurt. It's as if his system just has a resistance to it. His hand find it's place on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, "No, you're not stupid." He said firmly. And even if it is stupid - damn it, he wants someone to love him like that. Such deep faith in destinies. It makes him look at the flowers of trust you have made to bloom in your heart and mind with awe. Love is the most beautiful yet the most delicate flower isn't it? 

You are such a passionate lover, it's beautiful but oh does it hurt so much to think it might not be him that your heart aches for. 

Your eyes widen slightly as you turn to him almost immediately, his words catching your attention. No. You don't trust him with this one. He's just saying that to make you better isn't he? 

"Why not?"

He looked back at you, his gaze intense and sincere. "Because it takes courage to keep silent while carrying feelings this significant." He paused, trying to find the right words to express himself. Trying his best to not let the fear of the man you love so dearly not being him slip into his words. "You've been quietly waiting. Patiently hoping. That's not stupid. It's actually quite brave." He'd know afterall. He'd know better than anyone else. 

He's been doing the same thing afterall. 

Your expression softens, "Am I doing the right thing?"

Was he? 

He squeezes your shoulders again, "Sometimes, doing the right thing isn't always easy. Sometimes it requires patience. And belief." he paused again, his voice softening slightly. 

"Sometimes it requires just... faith." He breathes in, eyes closed as he takes in the fragrance of your trust flowers, imagining himself to be standing in the garden of your love. It's so beautiful that it almost makes him forget his fear, just like when you're in love. When you're in love all you care about is how your heart beats slightly more happily at the sight of them. When you're in love you don't care about being rejected and forgotten. When you're in love, all your focus goes into being in love. Maybe he's in love with the way you love, "Faith that your feelings will be returned one day."

You smile and look away, almost longingly "I've been loving him for so long. I think I'd be shattered if it's NOT reciprocated." You chuckle bitterly, your nightmares visibly slipping in your words. You don't know how he's so firm in his words... but they're somehow consoling. As if he's been through the same...but you were quick to push that doubt aside. 

"That's the risk we take when we love someone, isn't it? We open ourselves up to the possibility of heartbreak." he paused for a moment, his grip on your shoulder unconsciously tightening. "But... don't you think it's worth the risk?" 

You close yourself to pain, you close yourself to joy afterall. You were his joy and you were his pain. A pain he'd happily sink himself in. 

His mind reels back to your smile, the shine in your eyes, the way your voice sounds, the way your encouraging words echo in his head in the silence and loneliness of the night sometimes, helping him walk down to embrace of sleep, the way you hold him, the way you trust him, the way you console him...it's all so worth it. More than worth it, and he doesn't doubt that atleast. 

And you don't do either judging by the way you answer in a beat, "Oh. He's worth EVERYTHING."

He almost smiles but jealously was quick to spread it's thorns and constrict his heart. He was jealous that HE might not be the one you loved so deeply. He smiled, trying to hide the hint of envy in his eyes. "Looks like you've really fallen hard for this guy."

"Could be you." You glance at him, eyes gleaming playfully, a grin playing at your lips. Fuck. The words were out before you could control them. Shit. Why did you do that? To see his reaction? To keep the scope open, to let him know it could be him? Well, you did see doubt in his eyes just now but that's stupid. Who else would be the one for you? He had always been your type.

Always. 

Your words strike through his chest, spreading like cold ice through his whole body, mind racing a thousand miles an hour. He blinked a few times, trying to process what you had just said as his heart danced in his chest at the hope budding through his skin and bones like flowers. 

It could be him. 

He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. He had to remain composed and nonchalant, like he had been doing the whole conversation. He gave a light shrug, trying to hide the mixture of hope and fear in his eyes as he spoke. 

"Yeah, could be."

He frowns, scanning the crowd again. He knew you were here, you wished all the boys well before the match. Then why can't he find you? He looks down at his hand, warmth enveloping his skin at the memory of your touch, your voice echoing in his ears again. 

"Don't worry. Champions always win." He sighs, running the same hand through his hairs. You looked so assured, so sure just 2 hours ago, then where were you when he wanted to celebrate his biggest success with you? To have you in his arms? You weren't about to become his shadow now that he's in the face of glory after you've been his shield, standing firm in a protective stance through all his downs for so long were you? But before he could drown any further in the sea of questions and helpless uncertainty he feels a tap on his shoulder and the sight that adorns his eyes when he turns around makes his breathe hitch. 

You stood there panting, eyes shining the brightest he had even seen, face lit up with emotions making you look arguably the most gorgeous you'd ever been. Or maybe because he thinks so due to the bright glint of pride in your eyes. No. But that's not the only emotions dancing over your features right now. Determination, hope, anticipation, pride and happiness. He can see all of that. Joy, euphoria, ecstasy. 

The moment he turns to you, you instantly throw your arms around him, taking him in a strong, soul crushing hug. The force and speed even taking him aback, causing him to stumble backwards, but he recovers quick enough. 

You didn't care that he was all sweaty. You just were so SO happy. It's debatable, you were probably happier than him. You could technically feel happy hormones gushing through your veins. You didn't care if the cameras were on you both. All you cared about was that he had won.

"Have you ever been in love?" 

"Uh well..." Your abrupt question makes his heart skip a beat. He hadn't expected you to ask him that all of a sudden, but then again, you always had a way of surprising him. Didn't you? 

"Yeah. I have been."

You smile, a somber twinkle in your eyes, "What does it feel like?"

Your question was enough to hit him with a wave of strong emotions. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "It's... intense. Like, really intense. Your heart starts racing anytime you're around that person but it's somehow very comforting. Your mind always drifts off to them, no matter what you're doing." He paused, trying to articulate his feelings. "And you just... feel this overwhelming need to be close to that person. All the time. Because...it feels...warm. And they just make you happy."

"Right?" Your smile tilts with your head, "Their presence is just so comforting."

He couldn't help but agree. your words hit uncomfortably close to home. "Yeah...Their presence. It just... feels like home." He could feel longingness gush through his veins as he thinks back to everytime his eyes would automatically search for you in a room full of people. Your eyes a glowing warmth and your smile a sense of security. As if everything would be fine if you were happy and smiling. Maybe the thing he loved the most about you was how absolutely breathtaking you looked everytime your smile reached your eyes, sparking them up with a twinkle. 

"You're smiling." You muse playfully, the same smiling he was thinking about playing at your lips when he looks up at you, slightly taken aback. "Seems like you've fallen pretty hard too huh?" 

For some reason, the fact that you might not be the one he loves wasn't as bothering. You were just happy that he was as deeply loving and caring as you thought he'd be. 

"Still in love?"

"Yeah... I still am." He paused, looking down for a moment. Silently cursing how his heart would become the quick beats to the melody of your voice everytime you spoke. Your words have had this effect on him for so long he has stopped questioning it at this point. 

He wanted to say more, but he was afraid.

Afraid of revealing too much and making a fool of himself. Bringing down the castle of patience you'd both built together. Maybe he WANTED to. He wanted to destroy everything distancing you from him even if it was a beautifully comfortable castle, but he forces a reminder on himself. 

"Just a few more days." He thinks silently, promising himself to lay down his whole world at your feet when he wins that final match for you. 

He took a deep breath and continued in a low, almost whispered tone. 

"In fact... I think I'm even more in love than I was before."

"You did it." You squeeze him tighter as his his hands slide along your waist, his face buried in your hair and mind focused on holding your close and savouring the feeling of your body against his as your smell invades his senses. Yes. This is perfect. "YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU DID- FUUUCKKK. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, YO. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH."

And the world stops. 

He could feel the adrenaline in his blood turn ice cold at that. You....what? 

He pulled back slightly, looking down at you with an expression of awe and disbelief. "Did you just say... that you love me?"

You expressions falter slightly, your heart still beating out of your chest. You were in a frenzy - body high on emotions and adrenaline. You could barely think straight, any thoughts of your secret not being reciprocated thrown out of the window. But now that you see surprise etched on his expressions, doubts flood your system again. What if he doesn't...oh no.

"Is it a bad time?"

And before you could process what was happening you felt his lips crash on yours. Your eyes widen and your internal uproar at his touch was instantly mirrored by the crowd. But it barely took a second for the screams and cheers to die away as you found yourself settling into the kiss like the last piece of puzzle, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss. 

Shivers run up both your spines and sparks fly the moment your lips touch, charging up the air around as he holds you tighter, kissing you with a fierce need. How long had he waited for this? His fingers would probably fail him if he were to count but oh, were you the most gorgeous being he had EVER laid his eyes on. And now you were his. 

His lips move against yours with a desperate need to convey and pour out every emotion his heart couldn't hold, because damn well it'd most definitely burst open if he tried keeping all these feelings inside. This is beyond perfect. 

This is well beyond perfect. 

Your head was swirling. You couldn't believe this was happening. Consequences be fucked. You are about to enjoy this to your whole. Every coherent thought, every worry leaves as you kiss him back equally passionately. He wasn't any better, mind clouded with feeling of your lips against his and you in his arms. His hands come up to cradle the back of your head as yours slide to his chest and nape and he deepened the kiss. 

He didn't want it to end, he never wanted it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. But call it the protective instincts, his rational part kicks in reminding him of the cameras that must be on the two of you. He gives you one last slow kiss and you take the hint, pulling away. 

He pants, resting his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You love him. He loves you. You are his, he is yours. And there's nothing more he'd want. Nothing more. He'll die a happy man if he has you in his arms. That's just how much he'd yearned for you to be officially his. And now you were. He won 2 of the most important things he could have tonight. And right now he, without a doubt, was the HAPPIEST man on earth right now. 

You gasp for breathe, eyes still closed as you try and process everything. The way he holds you. The way he touches you. The fact that he was talking about you when he said he was in love. The whole world was watching you both. Fuck. AND he had won the World Cup. So much to process. So much. You almost felt dizzy, his protective embrace around you being the only thing which kept you grounded for now. 

Speechless. You were speechless. You didn't know what to say. There was so much to say yet nothing good enough. So you keep your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"I love you, yoichi."

He smiles softly, hands reaching up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin.

"I love you too. so much it hurts."

a/n : Hello lovely peoples. This is the first time I ever spent so much energy and effort in formatting a fic and making it look pretty. Am I down bad for him or am I down bad for him? Haters say I'm downbad for him, don't listen to them. I'm COMPLETELY normal about him. Yep.

I know hard launch is usually not the most realistic scenario with professional players, but a girl is allowed to dream 😔🎀

And if you see me screaming in the reblogs of my own fic....no you don't. <3

Tagging @zendersenders @sharkissm @thebestsetter @plsmarrymehioriyo because GASP can you believe it? I actually wrote i screamed about. Crazy.

[ dividers from cafekitsune ]

[wandascrush]

Please don’t say you love me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Summary: Your new girlfriend has such a nice home, with so many secrets

Warnings: lies, death, deception, kissing, crying

A/N: A reupload!

The soft scent of lavender and vanilla on Wandas skin was intoxicating. You lied on top of her, legs intertwined and breasts touching one another as you woke her up with kisses. She giggled and touched your hips gently, you felt her let out a happy sigh as she flipped you over and nuzzled her face into the side of your neck. Your chest felt endlessly warm as you started your day with laughter. It was the first night you spent with Wanda, sleeping over in her bed, both comfortably naked, waking up together. Since you two had started dating three months ago, it had always been at your place, not that you minded. 

Her hot breath fanned your ear, “I gotta get ready for work baby. Do you wanna stay here until I get back?” You heard the hesitation in her voice, “mhm m’kay sounds good bear.” 

 Two months earlier

“Wanda, baby, how much honey did you put in this oatmeal?”  you sat on her lap, trying not to wince at the sugary-ness of

“Hmph, only about 6 tablespoons for your bowl why?”

“6 TABLESPOONS? YOU BEAR,” your laugh echoed around the room. 

Her eyes were wide as she looked at you with faux suprise, “I love honey what can I say? I guess I am a bear,” she chuckled and rested her chin on your arm. 

 “It’s okay, you’re my bear.”

End of memory

She kissed the top of your head before you felt the side of the bed dip and heard her light footsteps to the bathroom. You adored her. A few hours later you woke up again with a rumble in your stomach asking for food. You stretched and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before  picking up your phone and reading a text from Wanda: 

I'll be home by 5, rest well sweetheart.

It was hard not to notice how meticulously clean Wanda's house was, couch pillows fluffed and in perfect corners, dishes and platters stacked in unison and color coordinated. Even her cereal boxes were stuck straight, organized from sweetest to least sweet. As new as her home was to you, something about it felt so familiar, so homely that you felt you'd lived here for years. The unfamiliarity of it all didn't scare you much, it excited you to build a new relationship from scratch. While you blindly rummaged through her cabinets looking for a morsel of food to eat, a voice boomed from above.

“Ms. L/N, may I assist you in finding a suitable meal for breakfast? I know cooking isn’t your strong suit.”

You spun around and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. No one was there.

“H-hello? Who-where are you?”

“Ah my apologies, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jarvis, an AI assigned to Ms. Maximoff by Mr. Stark. I help her with her domestic tasks and accompany any guests to make sure they are comfortable.”

You noticed whenever he spoke, the ceiling lights cast a light blue over the room. It was hard to get used to the fact that everything in Wandas home was high-tech, even her daily assistant. 

“Sure, thank you. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance Jarvis.” Without another word, the stove turned on by itself and the fridge opened up and pushed a carton of eggs into your hands. The fridge was practically telling you what to cook. You were awestruck.

A few hours later after watching a movie, doing some work, and even pestering Jarvis with question about himself, you got bored and decided to look around. You wandered through all the rooms, scanned through the books on the shelves, turning to go back to the couch when you accidentally knocked a vase off the tv stand. 

Instead of it breaking, it tilted on the edge of the mantle, resting like an open lid…huh. 

       Your eyes squinted closely when you noticed a small black button under the bottom of the vase. Press it or not, press it or not, you couldn’t decide. You didn’t want to break the trust between you and Wands, but she did tell you to make yourself at home. Then again, why would she have a hidden button…is there something she doesn’t want you to see?

“Press it,” Jarvis’ accented voice spoke above you.

“W-what?” 

“You should press it, Ms. L/N.” Huh. Your fingers tentatively reached for the black button. Click. The entire fireplace mantle and TV shifted, making screeching and mulling noises, until it disappeared into an open space in the side of the house. What was left behind the missing wall piece was a dark hallway, with one left corner turn.

Meanwhile, Wanda was busy at the Avengers compound, working on controlling her emotions with Bruce. He was more gentle with her than any scientist she’d ever met, she began to trust him.

“What’re you feeling now, when I show you these images?”

Her voice came out shaky, angry. “Take them away Bruce.” His eyes trailed down to Wanda’s glowing finger tips. “Control them Wanda, you can do this.” She took a deep breath and tried again, “I think we’re done for today.” After grabbing her bag and packing her files, she was on her way home to you, finally.

You gingerly walked through the hall, phone flashlight in hand as you turned the short corner. You felt a little silly expecting a big surprise or some crazy object, but all there was was a single locked door at the end of the turn, no handle.  It was steel white, glossy and smooth, with nothing to pry it open. It looked like someone painted it on or magically built it into the wall. Your stomach felt nervous all of a sudden and your heartbeat a little faster against your chest. “Jarvis, is there a key for this?” 

“It’s DNA activated Miss.” You were a mix of sad that you wouldn’t be able to open it, and relieved that you didn’t have to either. Before turning away you gave the door one last one over, tracing its cold white steel. And just like that, click, the door slid open. Holy. Shit.

“Fuck, that’s a lot of traffic,” Wanda tried calling you multiple times, but you didn’t answer. Maybe your phone was off. Either way it made her nervous, sickly nervous, for you to be alone exploring the house for too long. She couldn’t wait to put her bag down and fall asleep listening to your heartbeat again. But for now, she was stuck in a line of traffic longer than the line at the DMV.

It took a minute for your eyes to even process what they were seeing. You were staring at a ginormous, white warehouse looking room with lab tables and high tech screens. The ceiling had no less than 10 rows with slim, sleek cases, each holding what looked like a person. They all looked like life size dolls and as you stepped forward, legs heavier than titanium, you came to the haunting realization that they were all…you. Your eyes, your hair, your lips, even down to your birthmarks on every. single. body. They were displayed like mannequins. You were displayed like a mannequin.

Your chest burned, you were, you were, well you didn’t even know what you were to be honest. Your eyes were blurry and your face was hot, before you knew it you were on the floor. You could feel the coldness of the tile, the glow of the blue light above you. 

“Now you know, the truth. I’ve always tried to get you to come down here, but I never got the chance until now.” 

A car door slammed from outside. The sound of heels click clacking on the ground got closer.

“Jarvis,” your voice sounded like someone else’s, you couldn’t even feel the movements of your mouth, “what do you mean always?”

“Y/N? Baby I’m home!” she was still downstairs, her voice echoed off the high ceilings. What would happen when she found you? When she knew what Jarvis did? Her voice got closer, and closer, and closer.

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

“What?” What’s he thanking you for?

“You treated me like a friend, not just a robot. I thought I should return the-”

His voice cut out and the soft blue light in the ceiling stopped. Your girlfriend stood right behind you, a power box in her hand. Bye bye Jarvis. Wanda couldn’t stop thinking about the look on your face, the way she had never seen such a look on another human ever before.

“Hey, hey listen to me,” immediately she went to the floor and tried to hold your hands, console you. You practically flew back at her touch, instantly feeling rage and fear inside you at once. Those weren’t a good combination. 

“What is this, what is all of this! I need to know now Wanda, before I do something I’ll regret,” you held one of her work screwdrivers out toward her. Both of you knew you didn’t have the strength to hurt anyone right now, and that made you weak.

“Just listen, just listen,” she took a tentative step toward you, like caging in a wild animal. “This is crazy, I know”

“Yeah no fucking shit!  Who are these people, why-why do they all look like me. Explain.” Your mind started spinning out of control.

“Because they are you.”

“LIAR” You pushed her up against the wall, screwdriver against her neck. Air was hard to breathe, you were panting like a labored dog. And then you saw it. The pain in Wanda’s eyes, in her heart.

“I’m not lying. Th-these are all clones of you. Tony helped me design them if I swore to only use one, to help the kids mourn you but, I- I couldn’t stop.” Kids, you had kids? She was sobbing, shaking silently. So were you. 

“I just kept losing you, and whenever I traveled to another time, you were gone again. I lost you in every universe. I had to find a way to make you stay.”

It’s like your identity fell through the floor, your world burned up into flames, you weren’t even you anymore. You were some fucking lab experiment. The screwdriver fell to the floor with you, and in an instant your face was in Wandas warm, soft hands. The hands of a liar. The hands of the woman you thought loved. Your worst nightmare and your daydream.

If your body had a mind of its own, it was trying to get you killed. Without thinking your hand met her cheek, slapping harder than you’d ever hit anyone, or anything, before. Shit.

“You ungrateful bitch. Do you know what I’ve done for you?” She pushed you onto your back, your head hit the marble floor with a smack. “How I had to make you fall in love with me over and over. How I had to watch you die in every universe?,” you couldn’t tell who’s tears were who’s on your cheek, hers and yours mixed together.

“Baby,” she lied her soft brown hair on your chest. You didn’t move.

“What number am I, Wanda? How many more….of me died.”

“I did this all because I-”

”Please don’t say you love me.”

“11. You’re version 11.”

There had been 11 more before you, 11 more that had had the same life, same face, same family, same personality. If you cut yourself would you even bleed? But what you didn’t know was that Wanda had been responsible for 6 of your deaths. She never forgave herself. 

Tenderly, her hands held the back of your hand as she pressed her lips to yours. You closed your eyes for a second.

The last thing you heard was Wandas voice breaking,

“Version 11, shut down.”

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day Six: Erik Lensherr

Erik Lensherr x Female Reader x Charles Xavier | Threesome |

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, Threesome, Oral (M receiving), anal, p in v, cherik if you squint...

Summary: A lavish gala is being held at the x-mansion and you happen to find yourself ensnared by Erik’s possessive touch and Charle’s irresistible charm. 

wc: 2.6K

A/N: I have a feeling this will make up for day five...I think I got my groove back...enjoy!

| Day Five | | Kinktober Masterlist | | Day Seven |

The cool evening breeze kissed your bare skin as you stepped out of the car, Erik's strong hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance of Charles Xavier's grand estate. The mansion loomed ahead, glowing under the light of countless chandeliers, casting a warm, inviting glow into the night. This wasn't the first gala you'd attended, but tonight felt different—more charged, more intimate.

Erik's presence was grounding, yet electric. His usual intense, brooding demeanor seemed even sharper tonight, though there was a quiet anticipation beneath the surface. His gray-blue eyes swept over the guests filtering in, his posture relaxed but his grip on your waist firm, possessive.

"You look stunning tonight," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low, a smooth rumble that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you leaned in just slightly. "You say that every time we go out, Erik."

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "And yet, it’s true every time."

Inside, the gala was in full swing, the air thick with the sound of glasses clinking and the hum of polite conversation. The soft strains of classical music played in the background, though it felt distant compared to the intensity of Erik’s presence beside you. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on Charles almost immediately—his tall, imposing figure standing near the center of the grand hall, engaging in lively conversation with a group of elites. He looked regal, in a perfectly tailored suit, his sharp jawline and warm brown eyes catching the light.

He saw you first, and his face lit up, a charming smile spreading across his lips. As you and Erik approached, Charles moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, his steps confident, his presence commanding.

"Erik," Charles greeted with that familiar, easy charm, his gaze sliding to you, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "And you must be the stunning companion Erik has been keeping from me."

The compliment sent a ripple of warmth through you, but it was the way Charles looked at you that made your pulse quicken. There was something beneath his usual friendly expression, a hint of something darker, something curious.

Charles extended his hand, and when you placed yours in his, his grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing the back of your hand in a way that felt far more intimate than it should have. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Erik’s hand never left your back, the touch of his fingers grazing your skin through the fabric of your dress. He smirked at Charles’ words, though there was a possessive edge to his expression, something territorial. "Charles and I go way back," Erik said, his voice deceptively casual. "It was only a matter of time before you two met."

Charles' eyes flicked to Erik, a silent conversation passing between them. It was something unspoken yet undeniable—a push and pull, a magnetic tension that seemed to ripple between them, one you felt yourself getting caught in.

Drinks were placed in your hands, the three of you retreating to a more secluded corner of the room as the conversation flowed. Charles was every bit the gracious host, his smooth voice drawing you in with every word, his attention on you so sharp it made you feel exposed and intrigued all at once. Erik stood beside you, his hand never far from your body, his gaze darker, more intense as the night wore on.

The wine flowed freely, loosening your thoughts, and soon the conversation took a deeper turn. What started as polite banter evolved into discussions of power and potential, of the complexities of desire. Erik’s fingers traced absent patterns on your skin, the heat of his touch grounding you while Charles’ words seemed to slip beneath your defenses, each syllable a tantalizing promise.

"You’ve always held back, haven’t you?" Charles’ voice was lower now, quieter, as though the question was meant for you alone. His eyes locked with yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "What would it feel like to let go?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you, Charles’ question hanging heavy in the air. Erik’s hand slid down to your hip, his fingers squeezing just enough to remind you of his presence, of the fact that he was right there, watching.

"Charles has a way of uncovering things," Erik murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. "Desires you didn’t even know were there."

Your breath hitched at the implication, your body suddenly hyper aware of how close they both were. You were standing between them now, Charles leaning in just slightly, his hand resting on the back of the velvet sofa, his chest brushing your arm. Erik stood behind you, his mouth near your neck, his scent—dark, musky—wrapping around you, making your head spin.

"And is that what you want?" you asked, your voice coming out softer, breathier than you intended.

Erik’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you back against him, his lips brushing your earlobe. "I want to see what happens when you stop holding back."

The fire in Charles’ eyes flickered darker as he stepped even closer, his hand now resting on your lower back, just beside Erik’s. "We both do," Charles whispered, his voice a sultry invitation that sent heat pooling low in your belly. "Let us show you."

The moment felt suspended in time, thick with tension, desire, and unspoken promises. You could feel the heat radiating from both of them, their bodies so close to yours that it felt like you were drowning in the sensation. Erik’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your hip, his breath hot against your neck. Charles’ presence was equally intoxicating—his hand sliding around to your waist, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above the line of your dress, the lightest touch that still made your knees weak.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body already responding to the proximity of their touch, to the sensual rhythm building between the three of you. Your lips parted, anticipation swirling in your chest as you glanced between them, feeling the pull of both men, their energy feeding off each other and heightening your every sense.

Erik pressed his lips against the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your breath catch. "You’re with us now," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a ripple of desire straight through you. "And we’re not letting go."

Charles, still in front of you, tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile as his hand slid further up your waist, brushing the underside of your breast. His voice dropped, smooth and commanding. "Let us take care of you."

The heat between you all was unbearable now, a fire burning just beneath the surface of your skin. Erik’s hands roamed lower, pulling you against him as his mouth moved along your neck, lips trailing fire down to your shoulder. At the same time, Charles' hand slid up to cup your jaw, his fingers grazing your lips before he leaned in, his breath fanning over your mouth.

Your heart raced as Charles whispered, his lips a breath away from yours. "Let go. Feel everything."

And then his mouth was on yours—soft at first, then more insistent, his kiss igniting something deep within you. Erik’s lips were at your throat, his hands guiding you, molding you to him as Charles deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring yours with a languid, sensual rhythm.

The two of them moved in sync, surrounding you, pulling you into their orbit, the world outside disappearing as you surrendered to the heat of their touch, the intensity of their desire.

The heat between your bodies felt unbearable now, an intensity that blurred the edges of everything except the sensations Erik and Charles were creating within you. Charles’ mouth was insistent on yours, his kiss deepening as his hand slid down the curve of your waist, fingers brushing the hem of your dress, teasing. Erik’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of your throat, sending shivers coursing through your body.

You were caught between them—Charles’ possessive kiss, Erik’s hungry touch. The air around you thickened, charged with anticipation, every brush of their hands leaving fire in its wake.

Erik’s hands found the zipper of your dress, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’ll look even better out of this.”

With deliberate slowness, he pulled the zipper down, the cool air kissing your skin as the fabric slipped from your shoulders. His hands were rough, commanding as they slid along your bare back, pulling the dress down until it pooled at your feet. You gasped into Charles’ mouth, feeling exposed, vulnerable, but also electrified by the way they both looked at you—as if you were something they had been waiting for all night.

Charles’ lips curved into a wicked smile as he pulled back, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing between them, your body half-exposed, chest heaving with every breath. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice like a velvet caress. “More than I imagined.”

Erik stepped closer behind you, his chest pressed firmly against your back, his hands sliding around to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your already hardening nipples. The sensation made you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His mouth returned to your neck, kissing and biting along your skin as his hands explored your body, teasing, tormenting.

“Look at how she responds,” Erik growled, his voice low, filled with a dangerous edge of control. “Like she was made for us.”

Charles’ eyes darkened even further, his own desire simmering beneath the surface as he watched the way your body moved under Erik’s touch. He leaned in again, his lips brushing yours, teasing, before kissing you again, more demanding this time. His hands slid down your sides, tracing the curves of your body, his fingertips dancing over the tops of your thighs.

You were trapped in the fire between them—Erik’s roughness, Charles’ calculated seduction, the contrast making your head spin. Your mind raced, but your body surrendered, giving in to every touch, every kiss, every heated breath. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in your core, threatening to spill over as their hands roamed freely over your skin.

Erik’s grip tightened around your breasts, squeezing gently before one hand slid down between your legs, teasing the already growing heat there. His fingers brushed against you, barely touching, just enough to make you gasp in anticipation. “So wet,” he growled, his lips against your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Charles’ lips left yours, his mouth moving down to your collarbone, trailing kisses lower, across your chest, his tongue flicking over one of your nipples before he took it into his mouth. The sharpness of the sensation sent a surge of pleasure through you, your hips instinctively pressing back into Erik’s growing hardness, craving more of the delicious friction.

Your mind was hazy, lost in the sensations flooding through you. Charles’ mouth moved from one breast to the other, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as Erik’s fingers continued their slow, torturous exploration between your legs, never quite giving you what you desperately craved.

“Tell us what you want,” Charles murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through you, deep and commanding.

“Please,” you breathed, not even entirely sure what you were begging for, but needing more, needing them to push you past the edge they were keeping you on.

Erik chuckled softly, the sound low and dark as his fingers finally pressed harder, slipping between your folds, finding the sensitive spot that made you gasp sharply. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his breath hot against your ear, his voice filled with dangerous satisfaction.

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your body trembling with need.

“Not enough,” Charles murmured against your chest, his teeth grazing your nipple before he bit down gently, sending another jolt of pleasure through you. “We need to hear you.”

“Tell us,” Erik growled, his fingers teasing you, keeping you on the edge of release but never letting you tip over.

 “I want you both.” you gasped, your voice breaking with desperation.

The words seemed to ignite something in both of them. Charles pulled back, his hands sliding down to the waistband of his trousers, his gaze locked on yours, full of lust and something even deeper. Erik’s fingers pressed harder, slipping inside you now, filling you, stretching you in a way that made your body hum with pleasure.

Charles undid his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he freed himself, his cock making your mouth water in anticipation. He moved toward you again, pulling you down onto the plush sofa, his body hovering over yours as Erik stepped back for a moment, his hands moving to undo his own pants.

Charles leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds, teasing you, making you gasp against his mouth. “Are you ready?” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your body trembling with need.

With one smooth thrust, Charles slid inside you, filling you completely, his cock stretching you in a way that felt perfect, almost too much but exactly what you needed. You moaned loudly, your hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Behind you, Erik knelt on the sofa, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back slightly to meet each of Charles’ thrusts. His cock pressed against your ass, teasing, and you felt a shiver of anticipation at the thought of both of them filling you, overwhelming you.

“Let me have her,” Erik growled, his hands squeezing your hips hard enough to leave marks. Charles smirked down at you, his eyes dark with desire as he pulled out, allowing Erik to position you on all fours, his body pressing against yours from behind.

Erik didn’t waste any time. With one rough thrust, he filled you completely, his cock thicker, harder than Charles’, the sensation making you cry out in pleasure as he took you, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless.

Charles knelt in front of you, his cock still hard, glistening with your wetness. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your lips before he pressed the tip of his cock against them, a silent invitation. You opened your mouth eagerly, taking him in as Erik continued to fuck you from behind, each thrust pushing you further toward the edge.

The sensation of both of them overwhelmed you, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You moaned around Charles’ cock, your body trembling as Erik’s rough pace quickened, his growls filling the room as he took you harder, faster, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force.

Your mind blurred, lost in the heat of the moment, in the way they claimed you, body and soul. You were theirs now, caught between them, and there was no escape. And you didn’t want one.

“Come for us,” Charles commanded, his voice smooth and dark as he thrust into your mouth. “Now.”

The order, the intensity of it all, sent you spiraling. You cried out, the orgasm hitting you like a wave, crashing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping as Erik continued to thrust into you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were shaking, spent, and completely theirs.

Taglist: @comicbookslut @lilah1020 @writingaftermidnight @nyxineiros @chaoticweirdogeek @5soscrack @dindjarins04 @superstar-lover863-blog @Therealnekomari @iloved1lfs0

[verstappensrealwife]

Beyond a Contract - Max Verstappen x Reader

[max verstappen masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... max's pr relationship becomes real ʚɞ fluff ⋆⭒��.⋆ 1500 words ʚɞ warnings: kissing

-୨♡୧-

In the glittering world of Formula 1, where speed and glamour collide, a rumour swirls like exhaust fumes on the track: you, a rising star in journalism, are tasked with a mission unimaginable—fake dating one of the sport's most renowned drivers, Max Verstappen.

As the paddock buzzes with speculation and cameras flash with every calculated move, you find yourself thrust into a whirlwind of luxury suites and champagne-soaked celebrations, all while navigating the complexities of a relationship that exists only for the public eye.

But beneath the dazzling facade lies a tangled web of secrets and desires, as you and Max struggle to maintain the charade while grappling with the undeniable chemistry that sparks between you. With each staged photo-op and stolen moment, the lines between reality and fiction blur, leaving you wondering if there's more to this fake romance than meets the eye.

From the moment the charade began, you had no idea how intricate the performance would become. Every smile, every touch, meticulously orchestrated for the cameras, yet somehow, amidst the staged romance, genuine emotions began to bloom.

As you embarked on this journey of deception with him, the lines between fiction and reality blurred, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you never anticipated. His charm, his wit, his passion for the sport—all of it fueled the flames of desire within you, until it became impossible to deny the burgeoning feelings blossoming beneath the facade.

With each stolen glance and whispered conversation, the facade began to crumble, revealing the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Despite the world watching your every move, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Max, igniting a love that transcended the boundaries of the charade.

In the midst of the staged romance, amidst the glare of the spotlight, you discovered the unexpected beauty of falling for someone in the most unlikely of circumstances. And as the facade fell away, leaving only the truth of your love behind, you realised that sometimes, the most genuine connections are forged in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

As the clock struck 8 pm, the stage was set for the first PR stunt—a seemingly intimate dinner with Max Verstappen. Through the large panes of glass at the front of the building, cameras captured the scene, casting a soft, romantic glow over the dimly lit restaurant.

In the flickering candlelight, you and Max were caught in a moment of laughter, the genuine joy evident in the curve of your smiles. Despite the orchestrated nature of the evening, there was an undeniable chemistry between you, an electricity that crackled in the air.

Max couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by your every gesture and expression. From the sparkle in your eyes to the way your hair fell in soft waves around your face, he found himself drawn to every inch of you. It was as if time stood still as he savoured the sight of you, relishing in the fantasy of having you by his side, even if only for show.

As the evening unfolded, he found himself lost in the illusion of your fake romance, unable to resist the pull of his growing admiration for you. And though he knew it was all a charade, a part of him couldn't help but wish that, just maybe, there was a hint of truth hidden beneath the facade.

The air crackled with tension as Max's proposition of carrying on the date in his hotel hung between you, his gaze unwavering as he awaited your response. Despite the contractual nature of your arrangement, there was a palpable undercurrent of something more—an unspoken desire that simmered beneath the surface.

Your heart raced as you considered his offer, the allure of the unknown tempting you to abandon caution and dive headfirst into the depths of possibility. Yet, lingering doubts tugged at the edges of your mind, reminding you of the boundaries you had agreed upon.

"Our contract doesn't say that's necessary," you replied softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Max's shrug belied the intensity in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice low and husky. "I don't mind," he murmured, his words laced with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I think you can feel something more than this facade too..."

With his confession hanging in the air, the lines between reality and fiction blurred, leaving you to grapple with the weight of your mutual attraction. And as the tension between you reached a fever pitch, you realised that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to this fake romance than either of you had dared to imagine.

With a nervous nod, you made a split-second decision to seize the opportunity presented by Max's invitation. Hastily settling the bill, you dashed out of the establishment, your heart pounding in your chest as you embarked on this unexpected turn of events.

As you navigated the bustling streets, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. What had started as a simple contractual agreement had now morphed into something entirely different—a real, genuine date with Max Verstappen, the famous Formula 1 driver who had captured your attention in more ways than one.

Despite the nerves that threatened to overwhelm you, there was a flicker of excitement coursing through your veins. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown, and yet, there was a sense of exhilaration in the air as you ventured into the next chapter of your evening with Max.

As you arrived at the hotel, a nervous energy crackled in the air between you and Max, the weight of the evening's events hanging heavy in the space between heartbeats. The grand facade of the building loomed before you, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of your unexpected rendezvous.

With each step toward the entrance, the anticipation built, a silent crescendo of anticipation and uncertainty. What lay beyond the threshold was a mystery—a realm where the confines of reality blurred, and the boundaries of your fabricated romance were tested.

As the automatic doors slid open, you stepped into the opulent lobby, the soft glow of chandeliers casting a warm, inviting light over the marble floors. Max's hand brushed against yours, a subtle gesture that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of anticipation in the depths of your soul.

As the elevator ascended, the tension between you and Max reached a fever pitch, the anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. With each passing floor, the space between you seemed to shrink, until you were practically pressed against each other, the heat of his body searing through the fabric of your clothes.

With a subtle nudge, Max drew impossibly closer, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating. You found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips descended upon yours with a fervent urgency.

The kiss was electric, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second. Your heart raced, pounding against your chest as you melted into his embrace, losing yourself in the dizzying whirlwind of sensation.

But as quickly as it had begun, the moment was shattered by the ding of the elevator, signalling your arrival at Max's floor. With a sense of urgency, he dragged you out of the confines of the elevator, practically running to his room with a single-minded determination that left you breathless and exhilarated.

As you crossed the threshold into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy and desire. And in that fleeting moment, as you stood on the precipice of the unknown, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to dive headfirst into the depths of passion with Max by your side.

In the soft glow of the hotel room, surrounded by the hush of whispered confessions and the warmth of shared embraces, Max and you found yourselves teetering on the edge of something extraordinary. With each passing moment, the boundaries of your contractual agreement faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the blossoming love that bloomed between you.

As the night unfolded, you discovered that what had started as a mere PR stunt had evolved into something far more profound—a genuine connection that defied the constraints of your fabricated romance. And in the quiet intimacy of the moment, as you gazed into each other's eyes with unspoken longing, you knew that it was time to cast aside the pretense and embrace the truth of your feelings.

With trembling hands and hearts laid bare, you made a silent pact to abandon the confines of your contract and embark on a new journey together—a journey defined by love, authenticity, and the promise of a future filled with endless possibilities.

And as the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden light, you knew that this was only the beginning of your love story—a story that would unfold with each passing day, leading you both down a path of happiness and fulfillment, hand in hand, as an official couple in love.

el fin.

Kindahatethisbutohwell

[sunnycanvas]

Request for Baldwin IV x fem!reader, in which the reader is very fascinated by medicine and constantly tries to find a cure for her husband’s leprosy. She has some rashes and burns on her body from testing different ointments and healing methods and sometimes even drinks and experiments with poison, to see if it could be effective in treating her husband. She has a burning curiosity for healing plants and poison, but she also wants to help Baldwin. Only Tiberias knows of her experiments. One day, he asks Baldwin to please tell his wife to stop endangering herself with her sometimes careless experiments, since she won’t listen to the older knight when he tells her to stop.

Disclaimer: Talk of depression and death

I was busy working with ointments again at late evening secretly. Occasionally checking the door worried I will be caught. "I think this will work" I thought, I could feel confidence in my vein as I worked harder determined to find cure for my husband. Suddenly I felt someone grab my left shoulder. Not bothering to check I said "Don't tell his majesty or else you will be kicked out of your position"

"So, my queen threatens people now." The voice cut through the air like a blade, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. I stood there, frozen in my position, my mind racing as I scrambled for a way out of this precarious situation. "Will you ignore your king as well?" The first half of the statement was gentle, almost pleading, but the second half was cold and unforgiving, sending shivers down my spine. "Answer when I am talking to you."

My heart sank as I realized the source of the voice. I turned slowly, apprehension knotting in my stomach, and there he was—my husband, Baldwin, his gaze like ice, piercing through me with accusation. Behind him stood Tiberias, his expression filled with guilt, a silent witness to my downfall.

"That son of a b—"

"Tiberias, leave us alone for a while," Baldwin's command was firm, his tone betraying his inner turmoil. Tiberias cast one last apologetic glance my way before retreating, leaving me alone with Baldwin.

As soon as Tiberias was out of earshot, Baldwin seized my arms, his grip tight, his emotions raw. His eyes searched mine, filled with a mixture of concern and anguish. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his touch both comforting and suffocating.

"How could you do this to yourself?" His voice cracked with emotion as he held me close, his lips pressing gentle kisses all over my face. "What if you had hurt yourself? What if I lost you?"

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a whirlwind of guilt and remorse. I couldn't bear to see him in pain, couldn't bear the thought of causing him any more anguish. I smiled weakly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baldwin. I didn't mean to..."

But he silenced me with another kiss, his love enveloping me like a warm blanket

"Herbs are safe," I insisted, my voice trembling with the weight of my deception. "There are no downsides to using them."

Baldwin's gaze bore into mine, a silent accusation hanging in the air. "Mon amour, I admit, as a knight, I am not as skilled as you are, but I am not stupid either," he said, his tone laced with suspicion. "I am aware that poisons are sometimes used for curing leprosy."

I forced a smile, trying to mask the guilt that threatened to consume me. "Don't worry, I don't use that. I am being safe."

"Oh really?" Baldwin's voice was like ice, cutting through the facade I had built around myself. "Then what's that under your sleeve?"

My heart plummeted as I realized I had been caught. "Shit!"

Baldwin narrowed his eyes, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "I might not be a doctor, but I sure do know a liar," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Show me your arms," he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

"Bald—"

"Show me!" The command echoed through the room, leaving no room for defiance. Reluctantly, I rolled up my sleeves, revealing the evidence of my folly.

Baldwin's eyes closed in pain as he took in the sight before him. "We should not see each other for a while," he said, his voice strained with emotion.

I felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath me, the weight of his words crushing me with their finality. "No, please don't separate me from you," I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice. "You are the reason I am doing all this."

"I know," Baldwin's voice roared, the anger and hurt pouring forth like a tempest. "How could you do this to me? To us? Did you even stop for a moment to think about what would happen to me if I lost you too?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the consequences of my actions. "It's best we stop seeing each other," he said finally, his voice filled with resignation.

Tears stung my eyes as I realized the depth of my folly, the irreparable damage I had caused. "Please, Baldwin, I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible "I can't live without you" "When I was lost and had no hope in my life you came to me and taught me how to live" "You gave me strength" "I wanted to do something for you something as well" "Please Baldwin, I will die without you"

Baldwin's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and sorrow as my words hung in the air, heavy with despair. "Don't you dare say that," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Do you even realize what you're saying?"

I flinched at the harshness of his tone, his words like daggers piercing my already wounded heart. "But Baldwin, I…" I began, my voice trembling with fear and desperation.

"No!" he interrupted, his voice booming through the room, filled with a raw intensity that made me recoil. "I won't allow you to talk like that. You have no right to speak of ending your life as if it's some kind of solution."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find the words to defend myself, to make him understand the depths of my despair. "But Baldwin, I can't bear to go on like this," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. "The pain, the guilt… it's consuming me from the inside out."

His eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of compassion breaking through the storm of his anger. But it was fleeting, replaced once more by a steely resolve. "I know you're hurting," he said, his voice gentler now, though no less firm. "But giving up is not the answer. You are stronger than this, my love. We will find a way through this darkness together."

I shook my head, unable to comprehend how he could still have faith in me after everything I had done. "But what if I can't find my way back?" I whispered, my voice barely audible above the tumult of my own despair.

"Then I will be there to guide you," Baldwin vowed, his words a beacon of hope in the midst of my despair. "I will never leave your side, no matter how dark the path may seem." "I am sorry I had been to harsh on you" "I made a vow to never leave your side and I shall hold the vow till the last breath of life" "Let us pray to God" "He brought us two unfortunate souls together" "Perhaps he will give us happily ever after and thus a tale shall be told between a leper and beautiful angel" I giggled at his silly comment and Baldwin abashed said "I do want our love to eternal" "Just like kingdom of heaven"

And as he pulled me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the pain of the world, I clung to him desperately, holding onto his love like a lifeline in the midst of the storm. For in his embrace, I found the strength to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a glimmer of light amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me.

[estellan0vella]

Hidden Affection ❀ Uraume (REQUESTED) Masterlist

The evening air is crisp and clear, a stark contrast to the warmth that fills the secluded corner of the courtyard. Lanterns flicker softly, casting a gentle glow over the meticulously maintained garden. It's here, amidst the whispering bamboo and the trickle of a distant stream, that you find yourself entwined in Uraume's arms, savouring the precious moments of peace and affection.

Your heart pounds with an intoxicating mix of excitement and fear. Being the younger sister of the fearsome Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, your life is one of paradoxes. Your brother's reputation for ruthlessness precedes him, and while his protection has ensured your safety, it also places you under intense scrutiny that makes your hidden relationship with Uraume all the more thrilling and dangerous.

Uraume's fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your face, their touch as delicate as the petals of the cherry blossoms that surround you. Their eyes, usually so cold and calculating in Sukuna's presence, are now filled with a softness reserved only for you.

"My lady," they whisper, their voice a hushed caress, "do you not fear the repercussions of our secret?"

A smile tugs at your lips. "Fear is a constant companion in my life," you reply, "but with you, I find courage."

They lean in, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath away. It's a kiss that speaks of longing, of stolen moments, and of a love that defies the dark reality of your existence. For in this moment, you are not Sukuna's sister, and they are not his loyal servant. You are simply two souls bound by an unbreakable bond.

Yet, as always, the shadow of your brother looms over you. Sukuna's protectiveness knows no bounds, and his wrath is a force to be reckoned with. The thought of his reaction if he were to discover your relationship with Uraume sends a shiver down your spine, but it also strengthens your resolve.

As the days turn into weeks, your clandestine meetings continue. Each encounter is filled with whispered promises and fervent embraces. Uraume's presence becomes your sanctuary, their touch your solace. Yet, the weight of your secret grows heavier with each passing day.

One evening, as the crimson sun dips below the horizon, you find yourself in your brother's presence. Sukuna is seated in his grand chamber, a place that exudes his overwhelming aura of power. His eyes, the same piercing crimson as yours, lock onto you with an intensity that makes you pause.

"Come closer, sister," he commands, his voice a deep rumble that leaves no room for disobedience.

You obey, approaching him with a sense of trepidation. Despite his fearsome reputation, Sukuna has always shown you a certain softness, a rare kindness that he reserves for you alone. But today, something in his gaze is different. Sharper.

"I have been hearing rumours," he says, his tone deceptively calm. "Rumors that concern you and Uraume."

Your heart stops. The blood drains from your face as you struggle to maintain your composure. "Rumors?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.

He rises from his seat, his towering form casting a long shadow that seems to envelop you. "Yes, rumours," he repeats, stepping closer. "Whispers of secret meetings and forbidden affections."

Panic wells up inside you, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "Brother, I..."

Before you can utter another word, Sukuna's hand reaches out, gripping your chin with a force that borders on painful. "Do not lie to me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. "I am not a fool."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "It's true," you admit, your voice trembling. "I... I love Uraume."

The silence that follows is deafening. Sukuna's grip tightens for a moment before he releases you, stepping back as if your confession has physically struck him.

"You love Uraume," he repeats, the words dripping with disdain. "My most trusted servant. My confidant."

"Yes," you whisper, "I do."

For a moment, Sukuna simply stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he begins to laugh. It's a dark, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine.

"You are a fool," he declares, his laughter dying as quickly as it began. "Do you not understand the danger you have placed yourself in? Uraume is bound to me. Their loyalty is to me."

You take a step forward, your fear giving way to a fierce determination. "I understand, brother. But my heart belongs to them. And theirs to me."

Sukuna's eyes narrow, his fury palpable. "And what of Uraume? What do they say?"

"They love me," you say, your voice steady. "We love each other."

For a moment, Sukuna remains silent, his expression a mask of conflicting emotions. Then he turns away, his back to you. "Leave me," he commands, his voice cold and distant. "I need time to think."

You hesitate, wanting to say more, to plead your case, but you know better than to push him further. With a bow, you retreat from his chamber, your heart heavy with uncertainty.

The days that follow are tense and filled with an uneasy silence. You and Uraume continue to meet in secret, though the joy of your stolen moments is now tinged with the ever-present fear of discovery. Sukuna's reaction to your confession haunts you, and you cannot help but wonder what he will do.

One evening, as you and Uraume sit beneath the cherry blossom trees, their hand in yours, you voice your concerns. "What if he forbids us from seeing each other?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Uraume's gaze is steady, their eyes filled with a determination that mirrors your own. "Then we will find a way," they say firmly. "I will not let him come between us."

You nod, drawing strength from their resolve. "Together," you murmur, "we can face anything."

The confrontation comes sooner than expected. One night, as you and Uraume share a quiet moment in the garden, Sukuna appears before you. His presence is like a storm, dark and overpowering.

"You defy me," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Even after my warning."

Uraume rises to their feet, positioning themselves protectively in front of you. "My lord," they begin, but Sukuna cuts them off with a sharp gesture.

"Silence," he snaps, his gaze shifting to you. "You will return to your chambers. Now."

Fear claws at your heart, but you refuse to back down. "No," you say, your voice trembling but resolute. "I will not leave Uraume."

Sukuna's eyes narrow, his anger a palpable force. "You test my patience, sister."

Before you can respond, Uraume steps forward, bowing deeply. "My lord," they say, their voice calm and respectful. "I love your sister. I have always been loyal to you, but my heart belongs to her."

For a moment, the tension is unbearable. Then, to your astonishment, Sukuna's expression softens, if only slightly. "You love her," he repeats, his voice quieter.

"Yes," Uraume replies. "I do."

Sukuna is silent for a long moment, his gaze shifting between the two of you. Finally, he speaks. "If you betray her," he says, his voice deadly serious, "I will destroy you."

Uraume nods, their eyes unwavering. "I will not, my lord."

With a final, piercing look, Sukuna turns and walks away, leaving you and Uraume alone once more.

In the aftermath of Sukuna's reluctant acceptance, the tension eases somewhat, though the shadow of his disapproval still lingers. Your relationship with Uraume, though still hidden from the wider world, feels more secure. Sukuna's warning remains clear in your mind, but so does the unwavering love you share with Uraume.

As you sit together beneath the stars, Uraume's hand in yours, you find solace in their presence. The future is uncertain, and the path ahead is fraught with challenges, but with Uraume by your side, you feel ready to face whatever comes.

Together, you have defied the odds. Together, you will continue to do so. For your love is a flame that will not be extinguished.

Requested by @juliii

[199040]

Viktor x reader

Stolen Time

The laboratory always smelled of metal and cold coffee.

The bluish light of the Hextech crystals shimmered with an intermittent glow, casting shifting shadows against the walls lined with blueprints and handwritten formulas. The constant sound of gears and tools filled the air, but for Viktor, it was just background noise his mind had long since grown accustomed to.

He had been locked in there for days. Not hours, entire days. His dedication was absolute, an obsession that knew no limits. Progress waited for no one, and every second lost was an opportunity someone else could seize before him.

But this time, someone was waiting.

You.

It had been weeks since you had truly seen each other. Not through fleeting visits to the lab or brief exchanges of words. No, the last time you'd really been together was before his latest project consumed every minute of his life. You understood it — you always had. Viktor had the mind of a man destined to change the world, but his body was still only human.

And humans needed to rest too.

That’s why you were there.

You opened the door to the lab softly, making sure not to interrupt anything crucial. The scene before you didn’t surprise you in the slightest. Viktor was hunched over his workbench, his messy brown hair falling over his forehead. His glasses rested at the tip of his nose, and his golden eyes were fixed on the slowly rotating Hextech core at the center of the table.

—Are you going to greet me, or do you plan to keep watching from the door? —he asked without looking up, his deep voice tinged with evident exhaustion.

You smiled to yourself and closed the door behind you.

— I thought you wouldn’t notice, —you replied, crossing your arms as you approached him.

—I always notice when you’re around, —he answered, a small smile barely lifting the corner of his lips.

You stopped beside him, leaning forward to observe his creation. The crystal spun slowly, its light reflecting hypnotically in his golden eyes. But what caught your attention most wasn’t the crystal, it was him. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his face looked more gaunt. You knew he was pushing himself past his limits again.

—Viktor, you need to rest, —you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His body tensed under your touch, not out of discomfort but because your words had struck a chord of logic he couldn’t deny. His fingers paused on the tool he was holding, and he finally looked at you.

—I'm so close... —he whispered, almost like an apology.

—I know, —you replied, sliding behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder— But you won’t get anywhere if you break down in the process.

There was a moment of silence between you. You could feel the tension in his body under your hands, the way he fought against the need to stop.

—Five minutes, —he said weakly.

—No, Viktor, —you whispered, bringing your face closer to his ear—Not five minutes. I want the whole night.

The impact of your words was immediate.

Viktor turned his head toward you, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. There was no malice in his gaze, only surprise and something deeper... something that was always there but rarely allowed to surface.

—The whole night? —he repeated incredulously, his eyes scanning every inch of your face as if searching for some hidden deception.

—Yes, Viktor. The whole night, —you confirmed, brushing your fingers against his cheek—No more excuses.

Viktor swallowed, his gaze flickering between doubt and desire. There was something in your voice, in the way your fingers caressed his face, that disarmed him in a way no formula or equation ever had.

—You’re more dangerous than any miscalculation, —he muttered, a tired but genuine smile forming on his face.

—And you’re more stubborn than any broken machine, —you shot back, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

The kiss was slow, soft, but filled with restrained need.

His lips were warm, a stark contrast to the cold metallic air of the laboratory. At first, Viktor barely responded, as if still lost in his thoughts. But then, his hand rose to cradle the back of your neck, and the kiss deepened, becoming more certain, more present.

—You're playing with fire, —he murmured against your lips.

—Then don’t put me out, —you whispered back, tugging gently on his shirt to pull him closer.

The sound of his tool dropping onto the table was the only warning before Viktor moved. He turned fully to face you, his gaze fixed on yours with unwavering focus. His hands slid up your waist, his long, slender fingers — so precise with every piece of machinery — now tracing the curves of your body with the same deliberate care.

—Are you sure about this...? —he asked in a low voice, his breath unsteady.

—Yes, Viktor, —you replied, looking him directly in the eyes—I’m sure.

The lab disappeared.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you toward him with more strength than you thought he had. The books, the tools, and the blueprints all faded into the background. The machines could wait. Progress could wait. This time, you were the priority.

The cold surface of the workbench pressed against your back as Viktor lifted you with more force than you expected. His breath came in short gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he struggled to keep control.

—I’ve been unfair to you, —he murmured, his voice cracking slightly.

—Viktor... —you placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze—I’m not here for apologies. I’m here for you. Be here with me.

His eyes softened, and in that moment, the logical, analytical, methodical man surrendered.

The hours became endless.

Kisses turned into sighs, sighs into gasps. Viktor’s hands were neither clumsy nor rushed. Each touch was precise, methodical. As if he were repairing a delicate machine, ensuring every piece fit perfectly. But this time, it wasn’t a machine. It was you. And for once, his attention wasn’t on metal, but on flesh and skin.

His breathing grew heavier, his voice low and husky as he whispered your name again and again, as if saying it aloud could ensure it was real. And each time he did, you answered the same way.

The blue lights of the Hextech crystal cast dancing shadows on the wall. Light and shadow blended, creating an ethereal atmosphere, as if you were trapped in a world that didn’t belong to time or space. It was only the two of you.

When it was all over, calm settled in.

The hum of the machines still echoed, but now it was a distant murmur. You lay on Viktor's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, feeling his slow, even breaths. His fingers traced invisible patterns on your back.

—You should stay more often, —he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

—You should invite me more often, —you replied, smiling against his chest.

Viktor let out a short, quiet laugh, but it was real. Not the mechanical chuckle he used with others.

—I’ll make sure to do that, —he promised, tilting his head to kiss your forehead.

And this time, you believed him.

🕳️

[lumosou]

୨୧ — Beneath the Dungeon’s Shadows, Where Rivalry Softens to Heat. 𖦹 + ꕤ

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Slytherin!Harry J. Potter x Ravenclaw!Fem!Reader.

ꕤ — Synopsis + Wc ; A shared detention in the dungeons forces you and Slytherin’s Harry Potter to confront your simmering rivalry. But as the tension deepens, so does something unexpected—and far more dangerous. 1.7k.

ꕤ — Discretion ; Some kissing and banter, mostly silly and fluffy! Harry wants reader BADDD..

ꕤ — A/n ; hehe hi guys! I’m OBSESSED with slytherin!harry so naturally, I needed to make a fic with him, have fun reading <3

; masterlist.

Detention with Harry Potter was not how you’d planned to spend your evening. The dungeon air was damp and cold, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the rows of potion shelves you’d been tasked with scrubbing. It was miserable, thankless work, made worse by the fact that you weren’t alone.

“Do you always mutter when you’re annoyed, or is it just for my benefit?” Harry’s voice cut through the quiet, smug and smooth, as he rinsed a rag in the basin at the end of the aisle. You didn’t bother turning around. “Do you always talk just to hear yourself, or is it your way of coping with failure?”

There was a pause, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself. You’d hit a nerve. “Remind me who got us into this mess,” Harry said, his tone deceptively calm. “Oh, right—it was you, spilling your potion everywhere because you were too busy glaring at mine.”

You straightened, spinning on your heel to face him. He was leaning casually against the shelf, rag in hand, his green tie loosened and his hair even messier than usual. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and you hated how annoyingly good he looked under the dim dungeon light.

“You distracted me,” you snapped.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Did I? Must’ve been doing something right, then.” You glared at him, your grip tightening around your own rag. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.”

The two of you worked in tense silence for a while, the only sounds the faint drip of water from the basin and the occasional clang of glass vials. The shelves seemed endless, each one packed with dusty jars and unidentifiable ingredients, and your fingers were already sore from scrubbing.

“Honestly,” Harry said after a while, breaking the quiet again, “you could just admit you were impressed.” You frowned, glancing over your shoulder. “Impressed by what?”

“My potion,” he said simply, as if it were obvious. You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. It wasn’t that good.”

Harry straightened, stepping closer. “Snape seemed to think otherwise.” “Snape’s biased,” you shot back, turning to face him fully.

Harry tilted his head, studying you with a look that made your stomach twist. “Or maybe you just hate losing.” Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, you turned back to the shelf, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain with renewed vigor.

“You know,” he continued, his voice softer now, “you don’t have to try so hard to beat me.” You froze, your hand stilling mid-scrub. Slowly, you turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

Harry’s expression was unreadable, his green eyes steady as they met yours. “I’m just saying… You’re already brilliant. You don’t have to prove anything.” The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Harry shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Take it however you want.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. The tension in the room had shifted, subtle but undeniable, and you suddenly felt very aware of how close he was standing.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, until you finally turned back to the shelf. “Just keep scrubbing,” you muttered, your cheeks warm.

Harry didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he returned to his own shelf.

For the next hour, the two of you worked side by side, the initial animosity softening into something quieter. There was still the occasional barb, still the playful glint in Harry’s eyes when he caught you glaring at him, but it felt different now. Less like rivalry and more like… understanding.

By the time you finished the last shelf, your hands were raw and your legs ached from standing, but the work was done. You leaned against the edge of the basin, wiping your hands on your robes, and let out a long breath.

“Well,” you said, glancing at Harry, “that was miserable.” He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“You could’ve been stuck here alone,” he said, his tone light but teasing. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

Harry grinned, his green eyes bright with amusement. “Too late.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you felt the faintest pang of regret. Detention was over, and with it, the strange, unexpected connection that had formed between you. But as you reached the door, Harry’s voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He hesitated for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think you’re insufferable.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Oh,” you said softly, your chest tightening. “Well, you’re not as terrible as I thought, either.” A slow smile spread across Harry’s face, and for a moment, the dungeon felt a little less cold.

“See you tomorrow, then?” he said, his voice light but full of something unspoken.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you stepped into the corridor, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if tomorrow would feel different.

Somehow, you already knew it would.

The next day, the tension between you and Harry felt different. Subtle, but there.

You caught him watching you during Potions, his green eyes flicking your way every time you adjusted the flame under your cauldron. You tried to ignore him, pouring all your focus into perfecting your Draught of Peace. And it worked—for a while.

Until Harry spoke.

“Need help with that?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the soft murmurs of the classroom. You looked up sharply, your ladle pausing mid-stir. “I’m perfectly capable, thanks.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “But if you’re still scrubbing potion shelves next week, don’t say I didn’t offer.” You glared at him, but before you could respond, Snape’s voice cut through the room.

“Miss your own cauldron, Potter?”

Harry straightened, his smirk fading as Snape’s dark eyes narrowed on him.

“Five points from Slytherin for your inability to stay silent,” Snape said coldly. “Focus on your own work.”

Harry ducked his head, his cheeks faintly pink, and you couldn’t help the small spark of satisfaction that bloomed in your chest.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the library again, hoping for some peace and quiet to make up for the distractions of the day. But of course, peace was too much to ask for.

You’d barely settled into your seat when Harry appeared, his tie loosened and his bag slung over one shoulder. He didn’t say anything as he slid into the chair across from you, but the faint smile on his face said enough.

“Didn’t you get enough of me in detention?” you asked dryly, flipping open your notebook.

“Not even close,” he said, his voice light but teasing.

You sighed, your quill scratching against the parchment as you scribbled out a list of potion properties. “What do you want, Potter?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Maybe I just like your company.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but the words lacked bite. ‘’And yet, you haven’t hexed me yet,” he replied, grinning. You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth despite yourself.

Over the next few days, Harry seemed to appear wherever you were—at breakfast, in the library, even lingering in the corridor outside the Great Hall between classes.

At first, it was infuriating. His constant presence, his teasing remarks, the way his smirk seemed to soften into something almost fond when he caught you staring too long. But slowly, your frustration began to fade, replaced by something else.

Curiosity.

It wasn’t just the way he teased you, or the way his green eyes sparkled with amusement every time you rose to his bait. It was the quieter moments, too. The way he held the door open for you without a word, or the way he offered you a piece of chocolate during a late-night study session without expecting anything in return.

You hated how much you noticed him.

But you hated how much you liked it even more.

It was during another shared detention a week later that everything came to a head. This time, the two of you had been tasked with organizing Snape’s potion ingredients—a tedious, mind-numbing job that required sorting through dozens of dusty jars and vials.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you muttered, brushing a layer of dust off a jar labeled Pickled Billywig Stingers.

Harry snorted, holding up a jar of slimy, unidentifiable roots. “Could be worse. He could’ve made us drink this stuff.”

You wrinkled your nose, but before you could reply, your foot slipped on a loose stone. You stumbled, nearly knocking over an entire shelf of glass jars, but Harry caught you, his hands steadying you before you could fall.

“Careful,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren’t sure if it was from the near-miss or the way his hands lingered at your waist, warm and grounding. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The dungeon seemed to fade away, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips brushing yours so softly it was almost a question. But when you didn’t pull away—when you kissed him back—he deepened it, his hands tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

It was like everything else fell away. The rivalry, the teasing, the endless arguments—it all dissolved into the heat of his kiss, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers curled against your hip like he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you.

“Well,” Harry said after a moment, his voice low and amused. “I guess detention isn’t all bad.” You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

But as his lips curved into a slow, genuine smile, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind his luck.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts VIII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Valaena reminisces about the plan that lead her and Aemond to where they are now, and the two discuss returning to Westeros.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Fluff, Memories, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Fingering, Lactation Kink, P in V, Moon Tea.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5098

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

As Aemond slept peacefully beside her, his arm draped protectively over her waist, Valaena's thoughts drifted back to the night that had changed everything—the night they had made the plan to die.

She could still feel the warmth of the fire in their small cabin, the flickering flames casting shadows on their bare skin as they lay entwined on the floor.

The memory of the cuts on her palm and lip, now healed but still symbolic, stood out clearly in her mind.

They had married that night, in the old way of their house, binding themselves to one another with blood and fire.

Aemond had kissed her, a mixture of passion and pain, sealing the vow that would make them one soul, one life, forever.

His voice from that night echoed in her ears now as she absentmindedly stroked his hair, recalling the gravity in his tone when he told her, ‘There is only one way for us to be together’.

He had asked her to trust him, and of course, she had. She always trusted him.

Even though his plan was dangerous—unorthodox and bound to hurt those they loved—what choice did they have?

Running away would have been futile. People would search for them, and eventually, they would be found. They had to disappear completely.

Their deaths would free them, but more importantly, it would allow Rhaenyra the freedom to claim her birthright without the heavy chains of their forbidden love.

Still, the plan weighed heavily on Valaena's heart.

Aemond had gone silent for a long while that night, deep in thought, before he proposed the idea of meeting in the skies.

‘They’ll think we fought and killed each other’ he had said, his voice low but certain.

She remembered the uneasy feeling that settled in her stomach at the thought of such a deception.

She had asked how it would work, and Aemond, ever calculating, had already thought ahead.

He told her of Borros Baratheon and Otto’s plan for him to offer his hand in marriage in exchange for the Lord of Stoms End’s support, he also mentioned how Rhaenyra would surely send one of her envoys.

It was perfect—she would be the one to offer to come on her mother's behalf, and their charade could begin.

To make it convincing, they had to pretend to hate one another.

Aemond had played his part well, and his harsh words at Storm's End had stung more than she'd expected, but she knew it was necessary.

He had spent weeks afterwards begging for her forgiveness, hating himself for the cruelty, but Valaena had understood.

They both had roles to play.

Their final act had come with their dragons, a clash in the sky that would seal their fates in the eyes of the world.

She could still remember the practice flights they took over the Narrow Sea that night, the thrill of the dragons racing one another, their flames lighting up the night.

It had been almost like a game to Vhagar and Silverwing. The plan had worked, but it left behind devastation in its wake.

Valaena's thoughts darkened as she remembered saying goodbye to her family. She could only hope that her mother would one day forgive her for the pain she had caused, for the grief Rhaenyra must have felt for believing that her daughter was gone.

But at the time, there had been no other way. Aemond had been right—everyone had to believe they were dead if they were to ever have a chance at freedom.

The first weeks of their new life had been difficult, almost unbearable at times. The only money they had was what Aemond had managed to steal, and they had to avoid populated areas of Essos to keep their secret hidden.

She had been with child and time was against them. They needed to find a place to settle before their babe came and there were times they had to stop and let the dragons rest, taking shelter against them and huddling together for warmth.

Sometimes Aemond would venture off in search of food and he would be gone for what seemed like hours, only to return with whatever he could find or in some cases steal.

No matter what he made sure she had something to eat, he didn’t want any harm coming to her or the babe, luckily the dragons were capable hunters and often Vhagar and Silverwing would share their spoils with them albeit a little charred.

She knew this wasn’t what Aemond had envisioned when he suggested that they fake their deaths and flee together, she knew he resented himself for how they had to live, and he felt like he was failing in his duty to her and their unborn child.

But she made sure to tell him every night that she loved him and no matter what, they were together and that’s all that mattered to her.

Finally, after many weeks of travel, they ended up finding sanctuary in Qarth.

The Prince of Qarth had been eager to welcome them, especially once he learned they possessed dragons. Aemond had struck a deal—protection for the city in exchange for a manse, food, and security.

The dragons, Vhagar and Silverwing, would guard the city from poachers and pirates, and in return, they would have everything they needed.

Valaena smiled faintly as she remembered the birth of their son. She had cried for her mother then, wishing desperately that Rhaenyra could have been there, but Aemond had been steadfast by her side, holding her hand through every moment of pain.

They had named him Rhaegar, after Rhaenyra, a silent tribute to the family they had left behind.

Elaena, their second-born, had been named for Aemond’s beloved sister, Helaena, and their youngest, Daenys, after the prophetic ancestor of their house. The names were a reminder of the legacy they carried, even in their self-imposed exile.

Now, as Aemond shifted in his sleep beside her, curling his body around hers, Valaena looked down at him, stroking his hair with tender fingers.

She wondered what would await them when they returned to Westeros. Would they be forgiven? Would the world even accept them, after everything they had done?

Her heart ached at the thought of seeing her mother again, of reuniting with her brothers. But the uncertainty of their reception weighed heavily on her mind.

Aemond had been right—they had built a good life here in Qarth, far away from the reach of Westeros.

But it wasn’t home. Not truly.

As she gazed at Aemond’s sleeping face, his features soft and peaceful, Valaena knew that they couldn’t hide forever.

One day, they would return. And when they did, they would face whatever awaited them together.

Just as they always had.

Valaena stood on the balcony of their manse, looking out over the lush garden where Rhaegar and Elaena played with their dragons.

The hatchlings flapped their wings excitedly, snapping at one another playfully as the children giggled.

Nearby, a maid sat nervously cradling baby Daenys, her eyes wide as she watched the dragons with wary fascination.

Valaena smiled, but her mind was far away, filled with memories of a time long gone. The warm breeze tugged at the strands of her dark hair, and she sighed softly, lost in thought.

A familiar presence approached from behind. She felt Aemond’s arms encircle her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he gently pulled her back against his chest.

His breath was warm against her skin as he asked softly, “What are you thinking about?”

Valaena smiled, leaning into him. “Us, when we were younger and how I used to have such a crush on you when I was a child.”

Aemond chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated through his chest. “Really?”

She laughed, remembering. “Oh gods, yes. You were so beautiful and so perfect with your wavy hair and freckles. I used to follow you everywhere. I was so in awe of you.”

“Is that why you used to give me sweets?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Valaena nodded, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. “Yes. I thought if I shared them with you, then maybe you’d like me. I’d steal them from the kitchens, and I’d always leave the best ones for you.”

Aemond pressed a tender kiss to her shoulder, his voice softer now. “I always liked you. I was just too shy to say anything and too awkward to show it.”

Her heart swelled as she remembered those days. “I used to hide on the ramparts and watch you train. The way you practiced, always so focused, so determined. It used to break my heart to see you alone while the others sparred together.”

Aemond tightened his hold around her waist, his voice tinged with emotion. “But with you, I never felt alone again.”

Valaena turned slightly to look at him, her gaze filled with warmth. “Do you remember the first time you realized you loved me?”

Aemond paused, his single violet eye looking distant for a moment as he thought. Then, with a soft smile, he said, “I think I loved you even before I knew what love was. There was always something about you—"

Valaena's eyes shimmered with affection. She had loved him for so long that she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t.

Now, standing here together with their children playing in the garden, the weight of what they had built together felt more precious than ever.

"If we return to King's Landing-" she began, her voice quiet, "-and things go bad—if I have to choose between you and my mother—I’ll choose you. Always"

The words hung between them, heavy and full of meaning.

She felt Aemond's breath hitch, and then, to her surprise, he buried his face in her shoulder. A soft, muffled sob escaped him.

Valaena turned quickly, concern flooding her face. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond looked up at her, his eye misted with emotion. His voice was thick with unshed tears as he spoke. “Just hearing you say that. It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

She reached up, cupping his face gently, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “It’s true, Aemond. You are my heart. My everything.”

Aemond’s hand trembled slightly as he brought it up to hold her face. “I love you so much, Valaena. More than I can ever put into words.”

She leaned in, and their lips met in a slow, tender kiss, a moment of pure connection that washed away the uncertainties of the future.

They had faced impossible odds before and survived. Together, they were stronger than anything the world could throw at them.

As they broke apart, Aemond rested his forehead against hers, his voice a soft whisper. “We’ll face whatever comes together and I will always choose you too.”

Valaena smiled, her heart full as they stood together under the stars, knowing that no matter what awaited them in Westeros, they would never be alone as long as they had each other.

Aemond stood in the training yard, wooden sword in hand as he guided his son Rhaegar, through a series of basic sword movements.

The boy’s silver hair clung to his forehead; his little brow furrowed in concentration as he mimicked his father’s motions.

Aemond’s voice was calm and encouraging as he praised Rhaegar’s efforts, his pride evident with each swing of the boy's sword.

“Good, Rhaegar. That’s it—move your feet like we practiced,” Aemond said, stepping aside and gesturing for Rhaegar to try another strike.

The boy followed, his small hands gripping the wooden sword tightly, his face lighting up at the attention.

As the sun bore down on them in the scorching heat, Aemond called for a break. A young maid quickly rushed forward with water, offering cups to both father and son.

As Aemond took a long drink he felt a gentle nudge at his side and looked down to see Elaena, his daughter, standing with a wooden sword clutched in one hand, and her thumb in her mouth.

“Me try!” Elaena mumbled around her thumb; her big violet eyes wide with determination.

Aemond smiled warmly, giving the maid the cup. He took a step back, raising his wooden sword again.

“Alright, my little warrior. Let’s see what you can do.”

Elaena hefted the wooden sword, struggling a little with its weight but managing to lift it up. She swung it at Aemond with all her might.

Aemond blocked it with a mock gasp, tapping his own sword gently against hers.

“Oh no, Elaena strikes with deadly precision! How will I ever defeat such a seasoned warrior?”

Elaena giggled, encouraged by her father’s playful tone, and took another swing.

This time, Aemond dramatically dropped his sword and collapsed to his knees, holding his chest in mock agony. “Oh no! She got me!”

He fell onto his back, playing dead as Elaena squealed and dropped her sword, rushing to his side. She knelt next to him, shaking his shoulder with concern. “Oh Daddy. I just playing”

Aemond stayed still for a few seconds, then suddenly opened his eye with a mischievous grin.

“Got you!” He grabbed Elaena and pulled her down, peppering her face with kisses as she shrieked with laughter.

“Daddy, nooooo! Stop!” she giggled, squirming in his arms.

Just then, Rhaegar joined in, trying to tackle his father. Aemond caught him in one arm and held both of his children close, rolling with them in the sand as they all laughed together.

Their joyous sounds filled the air until a voice interrupted.

“And just what exactly is going on here?” Valaena’s voice rang out, teasingly stern as she approached from the manse.

Aemond looked up from the ground, a grin on his face. “I’ve just been defeated by the most fearsome warriors in the realm,” he declared, still holding onto Rhaegar and Elaena.

Valaena laughed, crossing her arms. “Is that so? Well, I do hope they take mercy on me.”

Elaena giggled sweetly. “We will, Mama.”

Valaena knelt down, brushing some sand from Elaena’s cheek. “That’s good to hear, because Daenys is having a nap and it’s time for both of you to bathe, besides I’m sure there’s a little girl under all that sand somewhere.”

A maid named Lirri stepped forward, ushering Rhaegar and Elaena inside for their bath.

Aemond watched them go with a fond smile before hauling himself off the ground, brushing the sand off his jerkin. “Time for my training now.”

A guard named Arro, approached, and a squire rushed forward to hand Aemond his steel sword. Valaena stood to the side, watching as Aemond and Arro began their sparring session.

Their swords clashed with precision, each strike powerful and deliberate. Aemond moved like a predator, swift and calculating, dodging Arro’s attacks with ease.

Before long, Aemond had Arro pinned, his sword at the man’s throat. Arro yielded, and Aemond stepped back, offering him a hand.

“Good effort,” Aemond said. “But remember to disperse your weight more evenly and open up your stance.”

Arro nodded, grateful for the advice. “I’ll learn for next time.”

As the squire returned the weapons, Aemond shrugged off his jerkin and pulled off his sweat-soaked cotton shirt, revealing the hard lines of his muscled torso.

The heat of the day had left him glistening, the sweat running down his skin. Valaena noticed the young maid staring at Aemond with wide eyes, her gaze shamelessly lingering on his lithe, powerful form as she handed him another cup of water.

Valaena’s lips curved into a knowing smile. She stepped forward and, without warning, kissed Aemond.

He was taken by surprise for a moment, the cup slipping from his hand and falling into the sand as his arms wrapped around her, deepening the kiss with passion.

When they parted, Aemond’s breath was heavy, his eye dark with desire. “You need to bathe,” Valaena said, her voice soft but firm.

Aemond grinned. “Only if you join me.”

Valaena’s smile grew as she nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

Valaena sat nestled on Aemond’s lap in the warm bath, her body pressed against his as she delicately ran a sharpened blade over his chin.

Aemond had his eye closed, his head leaned back, arms draped lazily over the edges of the bath. The heat of the water and Valaena's gentle touch had relaxed him completely.

With each careful stroke, she shaved his face with expert precision, the intimacy of the act bringing them closer in the quiet moments of the evening.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted to the uncertain future, and she broke the comfortable silence between them.

"I’ve been thinking about our return to Westeros," she said softly, her voice thoughtful as the blade moved over his skin.

Aemond hummed in response, his lips barely twitching. His relaxation remained unbroken, though her words stirred something deep inside him.

"I wish to wait a little longer," Valaena continued, focusing on the task at hand. "Daenys is still so young to be traveling such a long way, even on dragon back."

Aemond opened his eye and lifted his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers as he shifted in the water. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice a deep murmur. “Whenever we’re ready.”

Valaena smiled softly, relieved at his understanding. She tilted his head gently, guiding the blade along his jawline, her hands steady. “I admit," she said quietly, "I do fear the reaction to our return. After all, we’ve been dead for five years.”

Aemond took her hand as she paused, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers gently. His touch sent warmth through her, and he reassured her in that soft, steady way only he could.

"It’s expected to cause shock-maybe anger," he admitted. "But I’m sure your mother will be glad to know you’re alive."

Valaena couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at the thought. "I just hope she doesn’t have your head sliced off before she realizes how glad she is."

Aemond smirked, his amusement evident as he relaxed back into the bath. “I trust that my wife will advocate for me.”

With the final stroke, Valaena finished shaving him and carefully wiped the blade clean. “I will cast myself between you and the blade if I have to,” she promised, her voice serious despite the lightness in her eyes.

Aemond’s lips quirked into a smile. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, his tone affectionate as he gazed up at her.

Valaena set the blade aside and cupped his now smooth face in her hands, leaning down to kiss him.

The kiss was soft at first, her lips gently brushing his, but it quickly deepened as Aemond’s hands slid down her back, gripping her waist beneath the water.

She felt him, hard and ready beneath her, and the intensity of his touch sent a shiver through her.

Valaena broke the kiss for a moment, her breath warm against his lips as she whispered, “Go slow.”

She moved her head to side as Aemond began pressing gentle kisses to her neck.

“My sweet wife. My Valaena” muttered Aemond.

“My husband. My love” gasped Valaena.

“Your mine. Forever” said Aemond.

Valaena lifted her hips and reached down to take hold of Aemond’s hard cock.

After teasing her husband with a few slow strokes, Valaena slowly lowered herself onto his cock.

“Y-You must tell me if it hurts” whispered Aemond.

Valaena nodded and shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath as she slowly lowered herself.

“Your doing so well-” muttered Aemond trying to control himself.

“I-It h-hurts-“ whimpered Valaena, the burning sensation bringing tears to her eyes.

“-I can pull out-” offered Aemond.

“N-No just give me a moment” replied Valaena softly as she took the rest of his cock.

Aemond groaned loudly when Valaena was fully seated in his lap, his hands grasping his wife’s hips tightly as she began to move.

Valaena wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support as Aemond began to gently meet her thrusts.

Aemond moved one of his hands to gently caress one of her milk swollen breasts.

“Valzȳrys” breathed Valaena (Husband).

Aemond bent down to lick her nipples, going back and forth between her wonderful, enlarged breasts.

“Oh” muttered Valaena, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her.

Aemond ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hmmm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suckle at her breasts, gorging himself on her milk, as his wife gently rode his cock.

His tongue swirling around her stiffened peaks, his teeth scraping against her skin, the sounds of him swallowing.

It felt so good, it felt-

“-A-Aemond” gasped Valaena.

“What is it my love”.

“Don’t stop-please, oh gods-don’t stop” exclaimed Valaena as she arched her back, her cunny clenching around Aemond’s cock as she unexpectedly climaxed.

“Did you just-peak?” asked Aemond smirking as he released her nipple with a soft pop.

“Yes, it has been some weeks since we've properly laid together-” replied Valaena, her cheeks tinged pink.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, ñuha dāria-” whispered Aemond as he seized her lips in a kiss, the taste of milk upon his tongue (My love, my Queen).

The water began splashing over the edges of the tub as the force of Aemond’s thrusts increased.

Aemond loved fucking Valaena. She was so perfect. He loved her mother’s body and would never tire of feeling her wet heat wrapped around him.

Valaena rolled her hips in time with Aemond’s thrusts. Her loud moans echoed around their bathing chambers.

“A-Aemond. Yes. Yes. H-Husband” whined Valaena as Aemond shifted slightly and began thrusting deeper inside her.

“I want to stuff my cock deep inside your cunny and never leave” moaned Aemond.

“Aemond. P-Please” cried Valaena as she felt Aemond’s fingers against her pearl.

“Take it. Take all of me” groaned Aemond, his face pressed between her breasts.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Valaena, as she writhed against him.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen. Come for me again-” whispered Aemond, his tongue moving across her nipple as he rubbed her pearl.

Valaena arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted as Aemond began fucking her a little harder.

He was almost there just a little more-

Aemond held Valaena tight to him as his cock throbbed, spilling rope after rope of his seed.

“My love. My sweet” exclaimed Aemond as Valaena sagged against him.

Valaena took the cup of moon tea from Lirri, the bitter scent already making her grimace before it even touched her lips.

With one swift motion, she drank it all in one go, wincing at the foul taste as it burned down her throat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her expression sour.

"You ok, my lady?" Lirri asked, her slight accent tinging the words with concern.

Valaena nodded, offering a weak smile. "I’m fine. It just tastes foul. Gods, I hate drinking that stuff."

Lirri, standing beside her, gave a shrug. "Then don’t drink it."

Valaena chuckled softly, shaking her head. "As much as I enjoy carrying my husband’s children, I think I’d like to wait a little while longer before I have another." She let out a breath, looking down at the empty cup.

Lirri raised a brow, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Your husband, he is virile man, he have you many times-"

Valaena laughed, louder this time, her amusement clear. "Yes, I guess you could say that." She smiled fondly, thinking of Aemond.

Lirri nodded with satisfaction, continuing with a grin. “My lord, he is like great stallion. Always ready to mount world.”

Still giggling, Valaena shook her head. “That’s one way to put it.”

Lirri’s expression turned more serious, though her tone remained light. “My lord he is good lover, yes? It make you smile”

Valaena’s cheeks warmed, and she bit her lip as she thought of Aemond. “He’s-quite skilled,” she admitted with a soft giggle, her tone laced with affection. “But don’t tell him I said that. It’ll go straight to his head.”

Lirri laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I think he already know, my lady.”

Valaena leaned back, letting the laughter fade as she gazed out the window at the sunny garden. “Yes,” she said softly. “He probably does.”

Lirri’s eyes flickered with admiration. "Many girls think he very beautiful. They say his hair is like the moon."

Valaena nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "Don’t the Dothraki believe the moon is a goddess?"

"Yes," Lirri confirmed, her tone reverent. "She is wife to sun. Together they watch over all life."

Valaena looked at her, curious. "Do you miss the Dothraki?”

Lirri hesitated, her gaze turning distant. "Sometimes, but then I remember the Khal and his cruelty." Her expression hardened. "He no deserve to ride in night lands. I thank you and my lord for saving me."

Valaena’s eyes softened, guilt stirring within her. "I wish we could have saved your children."

Lirri’s hand reached for Valaena’s, squeezing it gently. Her smile was kind, though tinged with sorrow. "I will see them again when great stallion come for me. And together we will ride in starry Khalasar."

“What about Arro?” she asked, her voice lighter, hoping to bring a smile back to Lirri’s face.

Lirri’s expression warmed, a hint of affection flickering in her eyes. “Arro is kind man,” she said quietly. “He lost wife in a village raid”

Valaena nodded, recalling the memory vividly. “I remember that day. Aemond had found him lying amongst the ruins, barely clinging to life.”

Lirri’s voice was soft but steady as she said, “I’m glad my lord save him-he means great deal to me”

Valaena smiled, touched by Lirri’s strength and resilience. She felt the weight of their upcoming journey pressing on her mind. "Me and Aemond will soon return to Westeros."

"Your homeland," Lirri said, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Yes," Valaena confirmed. "If you do not wish to come with us, then I’ll make sure you have enough money to live on."

Lirri smiled, her eyes softening. "I have no wish to stay alone. I love your children like they are mine. I want to come home with you."

Valaena’s heart warmed at her words. "As long as you’re happy."

"I am very happy, my lady," Lirri said with a firm nod.

As they shared a quiet moment, both women noticed a young maid, Mira, walk past carrying a tray of food.

Lirri leaned in closer to Valaena, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Watch that girl. She look at my lord in way she should not."

Valaena’s brow arched slightly, her gaze following the maid’s retreating figure. "I trust Aemond."

Lirri nodded, her expression stern. "Yes, your husband is good man. He does not look for others. But Mira, she want my lord to bed her."

Valaena scoffed lightly, the very idea absurd. "Aemond would never."

Lirri’s eyes darkened with certainty. "But she will try. She like many women who try to take husband for own self."

A flicker of irritation crossed Valaena’s face, but her confidence remained steady. "She won’t get what she wants from Aemond."

Lirri smiled, a hint of danger in her tone. "She bad girl. I shall cut her throat for insult to you and my lord."

Valaena chuckled, shaking her head. "That’s very nice of you to offer, but I shall deal with her myself."

Lirri grinned wickedly. "Then I clean blood."

"I’m not going to kill her," Valaena replied, her amusement growing.

Lirri's eyes twinkled as she teased, "You should feed her to the big grumpy dragon."

Valaena laughed, shaking her head. "Vhagar prefers much larger meals."

Both women shared a laugh, their bond strengthened by shared loyalty, as they returned to watching over the peaceful grounds of the manse.

In the stillness of the night, Valaena was jolted awake by the sound of faint screeching.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she quickly rose from the bed, her bare feet padding across the cool floor as she rushed toward Daenys' cot.

She peered inside and saw her daughter still fast asleep, completely undisturbed by the commotion.

But something else caught her eye—the remnants of broken eggshell at the foot of the cot.

Her breath caught as her gaze shifted to a small, crimson creature nestled protectively against Daenys.

A dragon hatchling. Its tiny body shimmered like dark red rubies, and its wings, still delicate, were curled around the sleeping baby.

The hatchling’s curious eyes were already fixed on Valaena, watching her with sharp intelligence.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she reached her hand forward slowly. The hatchling tilted its head sniffing, before nuzzling against her palm.

A smile spread across her face as the tiny creature accepted her touch before returning to its protective stance, curling around Daenys with an instinctive sense of guardianship.

Valaena straightened up, excitement pulsing through her as she hurried back to the bed.

She shook Aemond gently, but he awoke with a start, his hand reaching for his sword.

She quickly shushed him, her voice a soft whisper. "Come look."

Still groggy, Aemond allowed her to lead him to Daenys' cot, where he saw the crimson hatchling curled beside their daughter.

A wide smile spread across his face, eyes filled with pride and wonder. "Her egg hatched," Aemond whispered in awe. "She has her dragon."

Valaena could see the significance of the moment in his expression. She knew how deeply this mattered to him—that their children would be seen as true Targaryen’s, bonded with dragons as they should be.

His own memories of being mocked for not having a dragon at a young age still lingered. But their children would never know that pain.

They would never stand on the ground, watching others take flight, yearning for the skies.

Aemond wrapped his arms around Valaena, pulling her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, her heart swelling with affection as they watched the tiny dragon fall asleep beside Daenys, who had unconsciously clutched the hatchling's tail in her little hand.

In that quiet moment, their world seemed at peace. The crimson dragon, small but fierce, was a promise of their family's legacy.

Their daughter, already tied to a creature of fire and blood, would carry the strength of her ancestors.

And together, they would soar.

TBC

[marvelmusing]

Set In Stone

Part Two

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader

Summary: As the sun sets, your new life as a statue begins and you struggle to find your place in this strange and unfamiliar world. The more you learn, the less you understand, and the feelings you’re experiencing regarding Aleksander and Alina only adds to your confusion.

Warnings [18+]: smut, dub con, fingering, nudity, somnophilia, discussions of sex, mild violence towards the reader (physical and magical choking), angst, references to emotional manipulation with magic, object insertion, human to statue transformation, consumption of magical potions, very brief mentions of pregnancy, Aleksander and Alina have been alive for centuries and they don’t know how to have normal relationships

My Masterlist • Part One

As sleep fades from your mind, you turn your head and end up face to face with Alina. Her pale hair casts a soft halo over her features, the bright strands ruffled erratically by her slumber. A heart stopping smile spreads across her lips when her eyes meet yours.

“Good evening,” she whispers.

After scouring your surroundings, the plush pillows and soft sheets, you blink at her shyly.

“How did I end up in your bed?”

She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingertips grazing over your cheek to trace along your jawline.

“You were fast asleep when you turned human again. I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you. Aleksander carried you to bed.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She beams at you, her hand snaking its way down your body before it settles on your bare mound. Heat spreads over your cheeks as you ask nervously, “Are you checking for stone?”

She shakes her head, her fingers slipping between your folds. Each stroke is casual and languid, as if she’s simply enjoying the feeling of your arousal building beneath her touch.

“You’ve been so good,” she coos dotingly with a rather adoring smile. “I think you deserve a reward. Don’t you agree, Sasha?”

Aleksander’s hand smoothes over your hip as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. The smile that touches his lips is softer, more tentative, yet he agrees immediately.

“I do.” His answer is low and raspy, his voice thick from sleep and it makes your stomach flip.

Alina’s thumb encircles your clit and you whimper at the sudden burst of pleasure thrumming beneath your skin. It spreads through your muscles, soaking deep into your bones until you’re shaking with the need for more.

Their voices are low as they murmur encouragements and praises that make your cheeks burn, heat diving down to where your pulse is pounding. After the last two days of being edged and toyed with, your nerves are fraught.

The pressure of Alina’s thumb remains steadfast, confident circles that make you writhe between them both. In a direct contrast, Aleksander’s fingertips are deceptively light as they dance over your bare body. They leave you aching for more and less at the same time, which has you approaching your climax at a frightening rate.

Even after you’ve come undone over her fingers, the shaking doesn’t stop and your heart continues to pound as you attempt to catch your breath. Overwhelmed, you close your eyes and press your head back into the pillow beneath you. Before you even realise it, you’re thinking of Alina wrapping her arms around you while Aleksander strokes your sides.

Emotion blooms heavily in your throat as you realise how much you want to be held by them both. The urge makes your chest ache, but the thought of asking your captors for cuddles makes you feel ridiculous. Zoya’s words immediately spring to mind. You’re too soft for them. Much to your dismay, hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand to quickly hide your tears and prevent any further embarrassment. Alina curls her fingers around your wrist, halting your movement, which allows your tears to fall in earnest.

“Whatever for?”

For a brief moment, you want to admit how much you want them both to care for you, and tell her about the doubts Zoya had placed in your mind. But you bite your tongue.

Zoya might not have given you the warmest welcome, but you don’t want her to get into trouble. Not to mention that you feel insane for feeling so much for them in such a small space of time. You shouldn’t feel anything for them besides anger and hatred for what they’ve done to you.

“Nothing,” you concede weakly. “It’s nothing.”

Alina tightens her grip on you.

“Don’t lie to us.”

Her voice isn’t overly stern, yet her eyes are your downfall and you relent quickly at the sight of them so fixated on your tears.

“Zoya said I’m too soft for you, and I’m scared she’s right.”

To hide from their reaction, you close your eyes. Until Aleksander says,

“Alina used to cry after sex.”

Shocked, you look up at Alina. Her head turns quickly to direct an accusatory look at her husband.

“Aleksander!” Each syllable is drawn out with mock fury and she swats at his bicep in retaliation. He ducks his head, attempting to make himself a smaller target.

“You did,” he protests with a playful smile which softens as he adds, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She clasps her hands in her lap, appearing shy for the first time since you met. Her gaze moves up to you from the ring on her finger - a polished piece of black onyx simmering in the candlelight.

“Aleksander was my first,” she admits.

Her eyes flicker up to look at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips when their eyes meet. It must have been centuries since they first met, yet in this moment you can see how they must have been when they first fell for each other. It warms your heart, yet there’s an ache of longing there once again.

Alina ducks her head down, capturing your lips with hers which catches you completely unawares. A small sound of surprise hums in your the throat, which soon dissolves into a quiet moan of pleasure as the ache in your chest eases. She cups your cheeks, her hands a soothing balm to the distress that had been burrowing its way into you.

She settles on top of you, pushing you firmly onto the bed, and you grind your hips upwards mindlessly in search of some friction. She breathes out a soft laugh, her smile widening which she sees your lips chasing hers.

A shocked little “oh!” escapes you when she slips a finger inside you which she mimics teasingly.

“I think you can give me another one. Can’t you, my little statue?”

Halfway through shaking your head, your body tenses with the force of nearing another climax. Each muscle in your legs quivers and you dig your heels into the plush mattress as you lose control over your body. The pleasure makes you shake even more than before, your chest heaving rapidly.

“You really are a work of art,” Alina murmurs appraisingly, her fingers dancing up your bare body. Unable to acknowledge her words, you keep your eyes closed as Aleksander tilts your head backwards, revealing your neck for him to kiss. His teeth drag over your pulse point and you moan softly.

Then Alina slips her arms around your waist, pulling you against her chest - away from Aleksander’s lips.

“Don’t damage her, Sasha.”

He grips onto your hips, tugging gently in an attempt at dislodging you from Alina’s hold as he argues,

“She’s my statue.”

“But I made her.”

An aroused little gasp slips from your lips, which draws their attention back onto you. They both grin. Alina strokes your cheek fondly.

“Do you like it when we fight over you?”

“A little,” you admit shyly.

They both laugh, appearing to settle on a compromise as they both begin to kiss you lazily. When Alina claims your mouth, her husband nibbles along your pulse point. Then they trade places. Aleksander sucks on your lower lip, while his wife digs her teeth into the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

There is barely a moment between each kiss for you to recover. It leaves you breathless.

“What kind of Grisha do you think you are?” Aleksander murmurs against your lips. That makes you withdraw slightly, though they don’t let you go far.

“I- I told you, I’m not Grisha,” you insist. “I’m not powerful like the two of you, or beautiful like the other statues.”

Alina sighs heavily but Aleksander smiles at his wife.

“Now you know how I felt about you.”

“I wasn’t this bad.”

“You were worse.”

Their discussion of you - and your non existent power - has nerves settling in your stomach and you gnaw on your lower lip in agitation. What will they do when they figure out that you’re nothing special? They won’t want you anymore. Aleksander draws you into his lap.

“Don’t worry yourself, my gem. Alina has always had a shorter temper than myself.” That makes her scoff lightly, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation at her husband. “Even after a few hundred years, she struggles with the art of patience. But I can wait. Reveal yourself whenever you are ready.”

Alina gives you a soft smile. It’s clear she agrees with Aleksander’s sentiments, but that doesn’t fully ease your anxiety. After all, you don’t understand what they want from you. Surely, if you had some sort of power it would have revealed itself already.

The covers slip from Alina’s body as she stretches, yawning rather adorably. Then you notice the scar on her left shoulder. It’s small, but gnarly, stained black from some sort of dark magic.

Hesitantly, you brush the knuckle of your index finger against the ridge of roughly healed skin. She smiles softly, before explaining in a low voice,

“A gift from the Darkling.”

The sound of Aleksander’s former title makes you glance at him quickly. A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he leans over to kiss his wife, which has your stomach flipping with surprise. You had thought neither of them would want to be reminded of when they were enemies - though it seems to be quite the opposite.

They both grin into the kiss, Alina’s teeth nipping at his lower lip during a brief interlude when they part for air. In response, Aleksander curls his fingers around her throat, squeezing the vulnerable area against his large palm.

A rather dreamy sigh escapes you, as you stare in admiration of them both looking so breathtakingly beautiful. The sound attracts their attention and they turn to look at you. Alina leans over to you, kissing you softly before she slips from her husband’s grasp.

Aleksander props himself up against the headboard, his bicep flexing as he curls his arm behind his head. The two of you watch Alina as she moves towards the wardrobe at the side of the room. The dimples at her hips crease as she shifts her weight from side to side, considering the clothing hanging in front of her.

She turns with a white lace robe draped over her arm and heads back towards the bed. She places it over your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll call for Genya to keep you company today.”

Self conscious, you fidget with the hem of the robe, drawing it closer to yourself as you lower your gaze.

“You don’t need to bother her. I’d be alright by myself.”

Aleksander reaches for you now, fingers grazing the side of your neck before they curl around the nape. He kisses you leisurely, his lips moving slowly as he steals each second of precious air from your lungs. When he finally withdraws, your chest aches as you gasp in a series of shuddering breaths.

“You aren’t a bother,” he insists. Then he kisses you again.

Hands curled into weak fists, you press them against his chest, unable to figure out if you want to push him away so that you can breathe or bring him closer to drown yourself in him. Bright sparks dance beneath your eyelids as he pulls away and your head spins as oxygen floods your system.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Genya grins widely when she sees you standing outside Aleksander and Alina’s door.

“I take it you’ve had a good night so far?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you duck your head bashfully to escape her gaze as she loops her arm around yours. The two of you walk side by side through the corridors, moonbeams and flickering candles lighting your way.

Genya pauses when you reach a set of double doors. She pushes them open and immediately a rush of humidity hits your face. A shudder rolls through your body, as the lingering cold inside you flees from the heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat glossing over your skin as you enter the room, squinting in the bright moonlight that spills from the large window carved into the ceiling.

In the centre of the room, there’s a pool which seems to be the main source of heat. Steam curls over the surface of the water and you look at the people lounging around the room.

“Most of the statues spend their nights here,” Genya tells you.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever you want. Relaxing. Sleeping. Pampering one another.”

The sight of one particular group catches your attention immediately. Three women and one man. They are seated amongst a mound of velvet cushions and plush fabrics. All four of them are in varying stages of undress. The woman in the middle is wearing a sheer red robe, her bare body openly on display. Her eyes lock on yours and recognition dawns on you.

“Is that Zoya?”

Genya nods.

“Beside her are Nadia and Marie.”

The two women are fawning over Zoya, their hands wandering over her body. The man is draped between her thighs, his head ducked down as he licks leisurely at her cunt. It makes your core tighten.

“And…?”

Genya scoffs lightly in amusement when she sees where your gaze has stopped.

“The one between her legs is Nikolai.”

She takes your hand in hers, tugging you towards the side of the room.

“Here,” she says. “Let’s clean you up a little.”

The two of you find a quiet corner where you can sit undisturbed. There’s a number of smaller pools, that remind you of rock pools, where water bubbles cheerfully.

Genya finds a seat, settling down on a velvet bench that sits low to the ground. She scoops up a handful of water, splashing it over her face. Her fingers smooth across her cheeks, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and lashes. When she sees you watching her, a smile spreads across her face.

She dips her hands back into the water, shaking them lightly before she removes them and sweeps her wet hands over your face. The moisture makes your nose crinkle and Genya laughs softly.

“This water is enchanted.” You hum questioningly and Genya explains, “Being turned into stone so often takes a toll on our bodies. The water helps our muscles and joints stay healthy.”

She tilts her head, eyes tracing down your body while you consider this information.

“Should we clean off your legs?”

Looking down at your thighs, heat rushes through your body as you realise that the mess of your arousal has dried on your skin.

“I can do it, thank you.”

“Sit at the edge of the pool,” she suggests. A frown creases at your brows and she smirks with mischief in her eyes. “Zoya will be able to see you properly there.”

The temptation is too much to resist. It’s hard not to be aware of the eyes on you, as you sit down at the edge of the pool. But, after spending the beginning of the night with Aleksander and Alina, you feel a little thrill of pride as you lower your calves into the warm water, scooping up handfuls to clean your thighs.

The water is soothing against your skin, a comforting caress that clears away the evidence of your earlier climax.

At the far end of the room, a door opens and Alina steps inside. Almost everyone turns to look at her, as her eyes scour over the sea of faces until she lands on you. Unable to stop yourself, you smile and glance down at your bare toes, splashing them in the water beneath you.

She walks casually around the pool, her eyes rarely straying from you. When she reaches where you’re sitting, you tilt your head back to look up at her.

Alina sits down beside you, taking hold of your chin so that she can press a chaste kiss to your lips in greeting. A shy smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, your legs hanging down in the water as you watch the other statues lounging beside the pool. Then she turns to ask you,

“Has Genya told you why I make my statues?” With a frown, you shake your head. “Aleksander and I aren’t complete together. There’s a missing piece - another person to balance us.” She glances around the room, gesturing to all the people relaxing in the heat. “Every one of my statues is someone who I hoped might have been the one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aleksander’s mother was a prophet. She told him that our future partner will be a powerful Grisha. Someone capable of breaking my statue spell.”

Immediately, you think of the book you found in the library and attempt to remember how the spell could be broken. Before you make any progress in your recollection, you’re distracted by thoughts of how Aleksander had pressed you against the bookcase, leaving the hint of a kiss on your lips.

A flustered heat spreads over your cheeks and you look down shyly at your knees, hoping she can’t tell you’re thinking such thoughts about her husband. She traces her fingertips over your shoulder, drawing little patterns on your skin.

“The spell I placed on you is exceptionally hard to break. Do you know why?” You shake your head. She smiles. “Because you love me - and you like being my statue.”

Caught off guard, you’re painfully aware of your heart pounding in your chest, hot blood rushing to your cheeks and down your neck in response to her words. The feelings you have for her are still difficult to decipher and you’re mortified at her brazen acknowledgement of them.

She looks down at her knees, her feet swaying lightly in the water.

“All my statues love me - I created them - they can’t help it. That’s why you haven’t ever considered hurting me, even after what I’ve done to you. But the love you feel for me now… it isn’t real.”

Stunned by her words, you can only stare with parted lips. Something sharp twists in your chest. Strangely enough, it feels a lot like betrayal. The blossom of your feelings has been plucked, its petals tattered by the storm of emotion currently threatening to choke you.

She smiles sadly, reaching out to stroke your cheek. The ache inside you deepens at her touch. A tear spills down from your eye and you shake your head which causes her to drop her hand.

“No.” The word wavers on its way out. She tilts her head, frowning slightly as she tries to read your current emotions. It takes a moment for you to settle on one in particular - anger. “You don’t get to take my entire body away from me and then tell me what I can and can’t feel for you.” She leans closer, her hands reaching to comfort you and you recoil backwards. “Don't touch me.”

Alina freezes and for a brief moment you think she looks hurt. Guilt stings at your chest. Then her brows furrow together, her features darkening.

“I don’t appreciate that tone.”

Usually, you would be terrified of angering her, but in this moment you’re too upset to care. Tears blur your vision as you pull your legs from the water.

“Well, I don’t appreciate being a plaything to amuse you until someone better comes along.”

Her eyes widen, her expression dropping as you stand. Her voice is a near whisper that you barely hear as you hurry away.

“That’s not-”

The idea of your feelings towards them being artificial, something created by Alina’s magic, has you feeling foolish and eager to get away. They haven’t allowed you a moment alone since your second transformation into a statue and the heat that had initially been comforting is now strangling you.

A shiver runs over your wet skin as you walk through the corridors mindlessly by yourself, with no destination planned. Genya’s tour yesterday hadn’t been extensive and you soon find yourself in an unfamiliar area that looks like an entry hall.

As you walk towards the large oak door, your heart rate quickens in anticipation. There isn’t much hope in your thoughts when you reach for the handle, twisting it cautiously.

The door opens.

Stunned, you look back into the house, almost expecting someone to appear and stop you from leaving. But there’s no one there. From where you’re standing the house is silent, aside from the frantic beat of your heart.

For a moment, you hesitate. Your feet are bare. You’re only wearing a thin robe. But you aren’t escaping. A short walk in the gardens might help you clear your head.

The paths are winding, the route concealed by the tall bushes that line each side of the walkway. It’s almost like a maze. The thought of wandering until sunrise makes you worry. Would Aleksander and Alina look for you?

The sight of someone in the corner of your vision makes you halt in your tracks, stepping back behind a bush out of sight.

“You’re new,” she says.

Her accent isn’t the refined Old Ravkan that you’ve grown accustomed to hearing in the house. Rather naively, you stay still in the hopes of losing her attention.

“I can see you, little miss.” She laughs bluntly. “Not to mention that I can hear your heartbeat.”

Stepping forwards, you move away from your hiding spot.

“You’re a heartrender.”

She tilts her head, studying you for a long moment with her pale blue eyes before she nods.

“What’s your name?”

Genya had told you that only the statues that fall out of favour with Aleksander and Alina end up in the gardens. Even with your feelings hurt, you don’t want either of them to be upset with you. As a result, associating with someone in the gardens might not be the best idea. After some hesitation, you give her your name. She nods in acknowledgement.

“I’m Nina.”

“Why are you out here?”

She grins.

“I could ask you the same thing, little miss.” There’s a teasing spark in her eyes and you lower your gaze bashfully. When you don’t speak, continuing to wait for an answer, she sighs and explains,

“I fell in love. Aleksander didn’t approve.”

“What happened?”

She turns her head and you follow her gaze as it lands on a rather weathered statue in the centre of the neatly cropped lawn. The man is sitting on the ground, his expression fond as he looks at no one. Then it dawns on you.

“You’re one of Alina’s statues.”

She nods.

“As my punishment, Aleksander turned Matthias into stone. When one of us is a statue, the other is human.”

You can’t imagine how upsetting it must be, being separated from the person you love like this. Never able to talk to them, or hold them again. Yet so close. From what Genya has told you, Aleksander and Alina seem to care for their statues. But Alina’s admission has made you wary of your thought regarding them.

“I’d get back to the house if I were you,” Nina advises you. “Before they realise you’re missing. You don’t seem like the type to misbehave.”

Immediately, you shake your head at the thought of getting into trouble with Aleksander and Alina.

“I don’t know the way back.”

Nina raises a brow at you. For a moment, you feel like a lost little lamb. Helpless. Then she points down a pathway.

“Keep following that path until you reach the fountain. Walk through the rose garden, then you should be able to see the house from there.”

“Thank you.”

She shrugs.

“Don’t mention it.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Lost in thought, you wander aimlessly through the house. As you’re turning a corner, Aleksander appears out of nowhere, pinning you to the wall. His hand curls around your throat.

“You’ve upset my wife.” His words are cold and calm which sends a shiver down your spine.

“She upset me,” you protest, gasping in his hold as tears fill your eyes. “But neither of you care about that. You don’t care about me.”

“We don’t care?” he repeats slowly, as if testing the sound of the words on his tongue. Panic claws at you when you realise the skin beneath his palm is turning to stone. “You think we allow any of the others into our bed?”

Unable to stop yourself, you remark,

“What about Zoya?”

His anger sharpens, his grip tightening as he tilts his head aside to watch intently while your airway becomes restricted by marble.

“I have known Zoya for centuries. She helped me stave off the loneliness until I met my Alina.” With each word, his magic creeps over your skin, hardening your throat into marble. Dots swim over your vision, as breathing becomes even more difficult. “I don’t care which one of you started this petty rivalry but it ends now. You want to take Zoya’s place? Earn it. Is that understood?”

Only once you’ve nodded weakly does he finally release you. Without the pressure of his hand to keep you upright, you collapse. Instantly, you place a hand to your throat, rubbing the tender skin there as you heave in a flurry of shaky breaths. Teary-eyed, you stare up at him. If he regrets his actions, you don’t see it in his expression.

He strokes your cheek, ignoring how you flinch.

“I expect an apology before sunrise.”

There’s a hoarseness to your throat when you attempt to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you state shakily.

He grips your chin, tilting your head back to meet his darkened eyes.

“Not to me.”

A faint nod is all you’re capable of, but it seems to satisfy him and he strides away down the corridor.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you stumble back to your room. The only emotion you’re capable of feeling is utterly distraught, the shattered pieces of your heart digging into your lungs.

Once you reach the safety of your room, you close the door, slumping weakly against it as you tuck your thighs against your chest so that you can hide your face between your knees.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Genya. She smiles gently.

“Aleksander sent me. Are you alright?”

Immediately, you crumble in on yourself, bursting into tears. She wraps her arms around you, drawing you close as she steps into your room.

“I know,” she murmurs sympathetically as she strokes your hair. “He scared you - didn’t he?”

Genya guides you over towards the bed, setting the two of you down as you continue to cling onto her. She lets you sob, only stepping in occasionally when you forget to breathe. In this moment, you are so upset that you forget how self-conscious her beauty makes you, even when she wipes your runny nose until the skin is raw.

It isn’t long before you’re exhausted by your emotions.

She lowers your head onto her lap, so that she can smooth over your hair soothingly. The tears fall slower now, sliding heavily down your face. The two of you remain silent for a long time, the only sound being your tearful sniffles as you slowly begin to calm yourself.

“Genya?” She hums softly, encouraging you to continue. “How old are you?”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“We don’t really keep track of the days here,” she says lightly. “I used to count the summers, but gave up after so long. It doesn’t really matter to us.” Fresh tears bloom in your eyes, as you realise you are trapped here forever. Nothing can take you away from them, not even old age.

After a discrete sniffle, you ask,

“Were you one of the first ones?”

Her hand halts in its petting.

“What makes you think that?”

“They trust you.”

She pauses, before admitting,

“I was Aleksander’s first statue.”

At the mention of his name, you sit up to face her.

“Aleksander’s?”

She nods, stroking your cheek gently as she sweeps the tear-soaked hair from your face. You frown.

“But, doesn’t that mean you should be a statue now - at night?”

She shakes her head.

“As a wedding gift for Alina, he removed his magic from me, so that Alina could have me as hers. He did the same to Zoya.”

“Zoya?”

Saying her name, even in a whisper, makes you feel as though Aleksander and Alina are about to descend upon you for a scolding.

“Alina and I were friends almost instantly when she arrived here. Zoya has always been possessive - I think she and Alina are too alike - they bickered and fought from the moment they met. Belonging to Alina is a gift for me, but it’s a punishment for Zoya.”

Genya shuffles across the bed, until her feet are touching the ground. Then she tilts her head, studying your face.

“It’s almost time for dinner. Why don’t we freshen you up and head downstairs?”

The thought of sitting at the dinner table, in front of Aleksander and Alina and all the other statues, makes you want to hide in the wardrobe or under the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

A light frown crinkles at her brows.

“They won’t be happy if you skip a meal,” she warns you. Something must shift in your expression, because she softens her tone as she adds, “After dinner, you could speak to Alina about what happened between you.”

“I don’t want to, Genya,” you protest pitifully, your voice wavering as you wipe at your tearstained cheeks with agitation. “They hate me.”

“They don’t.”

Staring down at your hands, you admit rather brokenly,

“I think they do.”

She places a hand over yours, cupping your cheek with her other hand to guide your eyes upwards so that they meet hers.

“Neither of them are truly angry with you - maybe displeased but not angry. Trust me. If they were, we wouldn’t be talking like this.”

“I’d be out in the garden.”

She hums quietly, not an outright agreement but you know you’re right.

“Come on, let me clean you up. How did your feet end up so dirty?”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Aleksander’s expression is sombre as he enters the dining room. His eyes scan over each person at the table, and you avert your gaze when he gets to you. He sits down at the head of the table, the same seat as the other morning when you had eaten breakfast in his lap.

Everyone seems to be waiting for him to speak.

He adjusts the position of his cutlery, straightening the knife closest to his plate. Then he looks up directly at you.

“Alina won’t be joining us for dinner this evening.”

You feel sick to your stomach.

Unable to focus on anything but the storm of emotions swarming in your chest, you push your chair backwards, uncaring towards the scraping sound that attracts everyone’s attention.

Genya murmurs your name quietly, a comfort or a warning - you don’t know. Her hand tugs lightly on your dress, but you pull away easily, shaking your head to dismiss her sympathy. You don’t deserve it.

The weight of Aleksander’s eyes presses on you all the way to the doorway. You still feel watched, as you walk through the winding corridors towards their wing of the house.

Once you reach their door, nerves twist at your stomach but you force yourself to knock. The silence afterwards has you wringing your hands together. The sound of Alina’s voice makes your heart skip.

“Leave me be, Sasha.”

Drawing together your courage, you call out,

“Alina? Can I come in?”

There’s a pause. Then the door unlocks with a quiet click. The handle creaks lightly, before it glides open.

She’s sitting on their bed, wearing one of Aleksander’s shirts. Her arms are wrapped tightly around a velvet cushion and there’s twist in your chest when you realise it’s the same cushion she placed beneath your head when you were in your statue form.

Her eyes are lined with red, and guilt stirs in your stomach. She uncrosses her arms as you approach the bed. Some of the tension in your body eases when she pats the spot beside her rather amicably. Relief softens the frown creasing between your brows. She doesn’t seem displeased to see you.

When you sit down cautiously, she strokes her hand over your cheek.

“You look like you’ve been crying yourself sick,” she observes, her lips puckered into a sympathetic pout. Her concern makes your tears return.

“Alina,” you whisper brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

She regards you solemnly, her expression unreadable.

“Did Aleksander tell you to come apologise?”

Her question catches you off guard.

“I-” The thought of lying to her makes your throat tighten. The memory of Aleksander’s hand squeezing there causes a phantom ache. “He did, but I really am sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that.”

“You got upset.”

“Yes. I did,” you whisper shamefully, lowering your head to avoid her gaze.

She hooks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can meet your eyes.

“I understand,” she concedes. “I’m sorry too.”

You blink at her, confused.

“Aleksander was the first person to want me,” she says quietly, her thumb circling your lower lip. “It’s been such a long time, I will admit, I forgot how much it hurt thinking I was unwanted. But I saw it in your eyes, and it… surprised me.”

She tilts her head, considering her next words.

“Most of my statues don’t care that their feelings were created by my magic.” She traces over your cheek with her fingertips, stroking along your hairline tenderly. “You’ve fallen a lot harder than the rest of them.”

Embarrassment warms your cheeks. It’s ridiculous, falling for her so quickly, especially after everything she’s done to you.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiles and your stomach flips at how painfully beautiful she looks with mirth glistening in her eyes.

“Don’t be.”

There’s a small pause.

“Genya said that belonging to you is a gift,” you state. Alina hums in confirmation. Her eyes flicker between yours as she acknowledges your unspoken question.

“Aleksander made Genya his statue to keep her safe from her parents. Even though she loves him like a brother, being tied to such a powerful man always made her somewhat uncomfortable. Becoming mine freed her.”

That makes you pause, titling your head as you think. Their displays of affection might be unconventional, but Aleksander and Alina do seem to care for their statues.

“I should have listened to what you were trying to tell me.”

She shakes her head.

“I’ve explained it so many times - to almost all the newest statues - I don’t know why I got it wrong this time.”

“How can I make it up to you?” you ask shyly. “I’ll do anything.”

She blinks hopefully at you.

“Anything?” There’s only a brief moment of hesitation, before you nod. “Take your dress off.”

Her request doesn’t surprise you, though you still feel shy as you slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing the fabric over your hips before you drop it to the floor. She smiles widely, playing with a strand of your hair before sweeping it behind your ear.

“I’ve been thinking of a place for you, in the house.”

The thought of being moved out of their bedroom so quickly makes your stomach twist. Nervously, you fidget with your fingers.

“You have?”

She nods, tilting her head to gesture towards the centre of the room.

“Do you see that table?”

Hope enters your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper.

She places her hands on your hips, steering you backwards until your lower back hits the edge of the table. Slowly, she slides her hands beneath the crook of each of your knees, lifting you up onto the furniture. The surface is cold against your bare skin and a shudder rolls through you.

“Stay here,” she commands softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

She moves over to the side of the room, stooping down to open a cabinet and retrieve a bottle of dark liquid. After lifting the stopper, she pours a glassful and brings it over to you. With unsteady hands, you hold onto the glass, staring down at the contents.

“Drink it all.”

Not wanting to be seen as disobedient, you take a plentiful gulp before asking your question.

“What is it?”

She waits until you’ve swallowed another mouthful. The sharp fruit flavour quickly softens as it slides down your throat and the tension leaves your shoulders as you lick over your lips.

“It should help relax your muscles.” She smirks deviously. “So, I can push you into whatever position I want.”

The sweet taste lingers heavily on your tongue.

“What position are you thinking of?”

She takes the glass from you, licking the rim at the spot where your mouth had been. Arousal burns in your core. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, drinking in the sight of you growing so flustered and she grins.

She pushes you back further, your feet swinging off the floor, and your stomach flips at the sudden sense of vulnerability. Then she keeps pushing, lowering you down onto your back so that you’re lying in the centre of the table. A shiver runs over your skin when the cool surface meets your bare body.

Alina hooks her hands beneath your legs, lifting them up onto the table. She bends them, until your knees are pressed up on either side of your head, your cunt bared to the crystal chandelier directly above you.

“Can you hold your legs like this?”

Surprised at your own flexibility, you turn your head to study each of your legs.

“Yes.”

She beams at you.

“That’s my girl.”

Every inch of you burns delightfully. Hers.

She lowers her head between your legs. Her tongue slips through your folds, licking a stripe over your open cunt. A squeal and a moan converge in your throat at the sudden sensation and your face burns with embarrassment at the sound.

Alina lifts her head, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Stay just like this.”

She moves over to the side of the room, standing on tiptoe to reach for the decorative light fixture attached to the wall. The flame flutters as she grips the base, loosening it from the attachment that keeps it fixed there.

Her fingers are curled around the base, which acts as a slim handle as she carries it over to you.

She traces a fingertip lightly over the curve of your buttocks, a contemplative expression dancing in her eyes.

“I’d like to slot this inside you.”

Utterly taken aback, your mouth drops open.

“The candle?”

She laughs.

“No, silly girl.” She tilts the candle holder, gesturing to the handle. “This end here. Do you think you can hold it for me?”

“I-” You falter.

“It would make me very happy.”

Slumping your head back, you stare up at the ceiling, eyes wandering over the sharply cut gems as they reflect the low light of the chandelier.

“You’re coercing me,” you mumble in protest.

She grins, amused and proud.

“Yes.”

Closing your eyes, you push your embarrassment aside.

“Will you go slowly?”

Her expression softens.

“Of course.” She offers you the candle holder which you take with an unsteady hand. “Wait a moment.”

She moves over to her dressing table, opening a drawer which she searches through with a small frown on her face. With Alina busy, you take a moment to study the candle holder. The material is smooth in your hand. There’s a substantial weight to the metal and your core tightens at the thought of having the handle pushed inside you.

Alina returns with a small tub of cream which she scoops up with her fingers on one hand. Then she takes the candle holder from you, and you watch as she smears the cream over the handle.

She then slips her hand between your legs, tracing a firm circle over your sensitive cunt. The cream is cold and you twitch at the change in temperature. Her fingers delve inside you, curling as they search for the spot that makes your hips buck upwards with a startled gasp.

A deep moan catches in your throat as she begins to push the handle inside you. In your hand, the metal had felt almost room temperature but it’s like ice as it meets your red-hot cunt.

“There we go. Good girl. Take it all for me.”

She slides it further into you, so that the wick of the candle is pointing upwards towards the chandelier above you.

“With some practice, you might be able to hold onto a more weighty candlestick, one with several arms.” It’s hard to concentrate on anything while she’s twisting the base inside you. “A pretty little candelabra,” she teases.

A familiar stiffness enters your body, and you inhale sharply when you realise the sun must be rising. Alina strokes your thigh soothingly with a smile.

“It’s okay. Remember, you just need to relax.”

The idea of turning into a statue doesn’t scare you as much as it did the first time, but you still aren’t comfortable as the heavy sensation fills your body. Suddenly, you realise that she intends on keeping the candle holder inside you during your transformation - that during the day she will be able to use your body as a light fixture.

“Alina?”

She stills and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve spoken her name aloud in front of her. Her dark eyes fix onto yours.

“Yes?”

“What would happen if…” Embarassment makes you pause, as you struggle to gather your words. “…if I reached my climax the moment I turn back into a statue?”

She grins widely.

“Then you will stay in that blissful state for the entire day.”

“The entire day?”

She nods.

“It is a rather intense experience. The pleasure could break you.” She tilts her head, her eyes locked onto your soaked cunt as she continues to twist the handle inside you. The urge to squirm coils inside you, but with your body transforming all you can manage is a shiver.

“If I continue like this, you will stay on edge for the entire day.” She blinks at you. “Which would you prefer?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your throat growing hoarse and dry as the skin of your neck turns to stone.

She hums, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“You handled a day of edging rather well last time. I think we will stick to that until you’re better trained to withstand pleasure.”

Thoughts of how she might train your body to endure such pleasure has anticipation prickling up your spine. She smiles, releasing her hold on the candle holder so that she can lean over and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Pure bliss warms your body as you wake, a pleasurable fullness in your core that tempts you into sinking back into slumber. But the sound of voices keeps you somewhat awake.

“She thinks far too much.” A familiar voice. Aleksander. A firm hand strokes down your bare back.

“Well, I know how to remedy that.”

“And what do you suggest, my darling wife?”

“We spend the entire night in bed, passing her between one another. She can’t think if she’s drunk on pleasure.”

After blinking some of the sleep from your eyes, you shift your body slightly and realise you’re lying on someone’s bare chest - Aleksander.

His dark eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, and your heart pounds violently as you attempt to remove yourself from him. Involuntarily, your cunt tightens around his cock - as if protesting the mere thought of your sudden exit. He settles both his hands on your waist, holding you firmly in place.

“Easy, little gem. I’m not mad at you.”

You blink at him.

“You’re not?”

He shakes his head, breathing out a soft,

“No. I’m not.” He rolls his hips upwards, drawing a low moan from you. “Alina told me you apologised.” His hips grind against yours, the head of his cock nudging the sweet spot inside that makes your skin tingle. “Therefore, you’re forgiven.”

“Thank you,” you gasp.

He breathes out a laugh.

His cock is so big inside you. It stretches you open with each thrust, nudging at your most sensitive areas which has your toes curling with pleasure.

Alina rests her hand against your stomach, stroking the skin there as she presses the area where her husband’s cock is. Her name is slurred as it tumbles from your lips. She laughs.

“Yesterday was a long day for you, little statue. You must be tired still. Get some more sleep.”

She kisses your temple and a fuzziness fills your head as her magic creeps into your mind. A delirious moan slips from your lips as you succumb to her spell.

Despite being asleep, you can still feel everything happening to your unconscious body, while your mind wanders through a medley of fantasies featuring Aleksander and Alina - which blur with reality until you don’t know what is actually happening.

Grinding your naked body into Alina’s, her hands grasping at your most sensitive areas. She slips her fingers inside you, prying your cunt open.

Kneeling between Aleksander’s thighs with Alina by your side. The two of you trade wet, open mouthed kisses. She takes Aleksander’s cock into her mouth, pretty pink lips stretched. The next time she kisses you, the taste of her husband clings to her tongue.

The head of Aleksander’s cock gliding over your dripping cunt.

Alina’s teeth grazing your nipple.

Her tongue licking up the length of your inner thigh.

The pad of his finger, rubbing your clit.

The sticky softness of Alina’s cunt against your tongue.

Distantly, you hear Aleksander curse in an ancient language you’ve only ever read on yellowed pages. His fingers dig into the soft plush of your cheeks as he grips your face while fucking into you relentlessly.

“Alya. Where do you want me to-” He groans sharply.

“Inside, Sasha,” she insists with a breathy sigh. The sound of her slick coated fingers, playing with her cunt makes your core tense. Her back arches as she whines softly. “Finish inside her.”

With a stifled gasp, Aleksander presses his forehead against your collarbone, as he nears his climax. His teeth dig violently into the hollow of your throat, the pain causing you to tighten around him, your cunt now strangling his cock.

The two of you moan in unison, grasping tightly onto one another as you both reach the peak of your pleasure, your bodies writhing in the throes of a violent, synchronised orgasm. Aleksander’s grip on your hips is tight, squeezing you as he groans.

Alina isn’t far behind, her frantic movements and moans registering distantly through the clouds of bliss fogging up your head. It takes quite some time for you to catch your breath. Even when Aleksander eventually pulls out from inside you, there’s a disconnect between your mind and your body.

Their magic hazes over your thoughts, dulling your awareness while she plays with Aleksander’s spend as it leaks out of you. The wet sound of her fingers and your unsteady breathing fills the room. She smears the creamy mess over your thighs, before ducking her head down to lap up the streaks with her tongue.

The three of you remain in bed, lying side by side. Unable to stop yourself, you look down at your hand, watching your thumb move slowly over your abdomen.

“You won’t end up with child,” Alina says quietly.

Startled, you look over at her with widened eyes.

“I won’t?”

She shakes her head.

“My magic stops your natural cycle.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes wander slowly down your body, settling on where your hand remains on your stomach.

“Besides, Aleksander and I can’t…” Her voice trails off into nothing and sadness traces its way over her features.

“Alina, I’m so sorry.”

She attempts a casual shrug.

“It’s probably for the best.”

Placing your hand over hers, you squeeze it softly.

“I’m still sorry.”

She slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your hips are pressed flush against hers, your legs tangled together. Her nose brushes against yours before she kisses you softly. Aleksander’s arm curls around the two of you, drawing you both closer to him.

He leaves a kiss on your shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he inhales a deep sigh. Another kiss is pressed against your pulse point as he murmurs in a voice so quiet you scarcely hear it.

“Thank you.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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[fel-09]

https://www.tumblr.com/fel-09/768651490993848320/httpswwwtumblrcomfel-09768589999848472576ht?source=share

Hello dear. Can you please make a fairy version of this?tfen? Pleasee💕

Freedom is a sand in your hands

(Dark)Thranduil × Fairy Reader

Warning: manipulation, dark undertones, 16+.

The golden sunlight filtered through the canopy of ancient trees, illuminating the throne room in a warm glow that felt anything but comforting. You sat at the base of Thranduil’s throne, your wings lying useless and damp behind you, the water dripping off their edges a constant reminder of your confinement.

He stood before you, tall and imposing, his gaze as cold and unyielding as the peaks of the mountains beyond his forest.

“I saved you from a world that would have destroyed you,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying a weight that felt like a chain around your neck.

You lifted your head, anger flashing in your eyes like lightning cutting through the sky.

“Don’t speak as if I haven’t lived in that world!” you snapped. “I’ve survived for 2,700 years, Thranduil!”

His lips curled into a faint, condescending smile, as though your defiance amused him.

“Unlike me, you’ve experienced nothing,” he said, his tone sharp as a blade. “I am older than you, little one. I understand what lies beyond these walls far better than you ever could.”

You rose to your feet, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. But your wings, still too heavy with water to lift, betrayed your helplessness.

“You know I will never let you go,” he continued, stepping closer. His voice softened, but the steel beneath his words was impossible to miss. “Stop deluding yourself with thoughts of freedom. This place is your home now.”

He towered over you, his shadow blotting out the sunlight that streamed through the windows. His face was so close to yours that you could see the faint lines on his skin, like cracks in polished marble.

“You can either accept this willingly,” he murmured, his voice a low threat, “or I will ensure your compliance.”

You couldn’t respond. The words caught in your throat like thorns. His hands rested lightly on your shoulders, the touch deceptively gentle, yet carrying the weight of his dominance.

Turning away, he strode back to his throne with the grace of a king who knew he would always be obeyed. But before he sat, he cast one last glance over his shoulder.

“Submit, mîr nin. It is the only path to peace.”

The sunlight still poured in through the windows, but its warmth was meaningless. Beyond this castle lay a freedom you could no longer reach, shattered by the iron will of the Elvenking.

Another Day

Before you could sense his approach, Thranduil’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. The sudden closeness made you stiffen, but he only chuckled, his breath warm against your ear.

“Always so tense,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down your arm until they reached your hand. Gently, he lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss against your fingers.

You turned your head to glare at him, your brows furrowed in irritation. His icy blue eyes met yours, and a playful smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t look at me with that scowl,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “It only makes me want to tease you more.”

Before you could retort, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, the action so casual yet so possessive that it left you momentarily stunned.

“See?” he said, his smirk widening as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Much better.”

Your glare didn’t falter, but the faint warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed your composure.

“Thranduil…” you began, your tone edged with warning.

But he only laughed softly, his hand moving to cup your face. “Oh, mîr nin,” he said, his voice softening, “you’re too beautiful to resist.”

His lips brushed against your temple, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter despite your frustration. And as much as you hated to admit it, his touch, his presence, his words—they always left you torn between fury and something far more dangerous.

[azukiel]

Nightfall Heir Chapter 1

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 |

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you lay in Astarion’s arms, you relished in the bliss that coddled your heart.

Alas, your mind wandered. It had not always been like this.

Blissful.

Your memories vividly recalled the time you had first laid with him, the time where the soft glow of fireflies had danced in the air, casting shadows that whispered secrets into the grass beneath you. The subsequent times thereafter had also been a symphony of sensations - feverish rustling of bedsheets, and the intoxicating scents of his cologne mingled with the musky aromas of passion. Back then, Astarion had always assured you that your very essence would be enveloped in a euphoric blend of pleasure and ecstasy. However, beneath the surface of those passionate encounters lay a web of deception. Your trysts had been nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask to conceal the collective traumas that haunted you both. Astarion had sought protection and trust from you, while you had yearned for a semblance of true companionship and belonging from him.

Still, the scars you both carried were etched into your souls, impossible to conceal. They were etched into the very fabric of your beings, leaving invisible wounds that refused to heal.

You flinched at the painful recollections as you looked up again at his peaceful, sleeping face. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a deep breath. His scents of bergamot, rosemary and aged brandy eloped you with a warmth like a midsummer’s kiss. His enchanting perfume restored a sense of peace. Yet, the darkness that still lingered in the back of your mind clawed its way into your consciousness once more.

Shuddering, you pressed yourself harder against his body to shield yourself, and though, in his sleep, he tightened his arms around you, you felt your walls again crumble. As the salt of your tears stung at the corners of your eyes, your unscrupulous mind continued to ravish your heart…

You were flung back to your childhood, vividly recalling the relentless barrage of blows, the sound of bones cracking, the scathing verbal assaults, and the relentless condemnations. The overpowering stench of sweat and blood used to fill your nostrils as you were forced to confront opponents far stronger than yourself, all for the perverse amusement of the masses... enduring unspeakable torment that had assaulted your body and mind alike. Such was the brutal reality of the Drow society that had shaped your upbringing. And yet, your tortures were not so different to that of which your lover had suffered at the hands of his old tormentor, Cazador.

The torment you had both endured had left deep scars, which had resulted in your eventual separation. The memory of it lingered, triggering a silent sob from you. In the past, you and Astarion had made the mutual decision to remain ‘just companions,’ driven by guilt over having used each other as shields for your sufferings. It had seemed like the ideal solution, a way to aid in healing. But unbeknownst to either of you, it had only exacerbated the anguish, a truth you both refused to acknowledge, even to yourselves.

At least, not until the events in Cazador's gloomy prison had unfolded.

Your mind, shrouded in darkness, conjured up a vivid and haunting replay of the events...

Your heart had been torn asunder as you had watched Astarion confront his old, wicked master. The anguish inflicted upon Astarion had been unbearable, a raw wound visible in your eyes. Alas, the hunger for power had consumed him, a voracious appetite for ascension that had wrapped around him like a suffocating web. In a mere breath, the Astarion you had known and loved had vanished. The vibrant essence of the witty, sassy, and flamboyant Elven vampire you cherished had been replaced by a feral beast. The sight of his former slaver, now succumbed, bloodied and kneeling, blurred the line between captor and captive.

You recall having exerted every ounce of your strength, having plead with Astarion to resist the seductive pull of power, to spare the lives of the countless thralls and spawn. The weight of this decision had threatened to consume his true self, which would have rendered him unrecognizable. Unimaginable sorrow had consumed you as you had contemplated the magnitude of such a loss.

The anguished cries that had escaped him as he struck down Cazador had reverberated through your being, threatening to shatter your very core. Even though Astarion had eventually yielded to your pleas, a deep resentment had grown within him towards you.

Your mind then shifted to when you and your companions had returned to the Elvensong Tavern nigh your vampiric companion. Your body had trembled uncontrollably, with tears streaming down your face, your sobs wracking your entire being. The weight of your despair had felt like an unbearable burden, threatening to consume you entirely. You remember the painful pounding of your heart in your chest, the rhythm deafening in your ears, and your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain control. Halsin’s sudden powerful embrace had provided a sense of stability, and his firm hold had offered a sense of security that you had desperately needed in that moment. He was, in fact, the only companion strong enough to hold your arms to prevent you from burning down the place in your despair. You recalled the surrounding room blurring as your vision had become clouded by tears; the world reduced to a haze of pain and anguish.

The others, your companions, had surrounded you, and eventually their presence had become a comfort amidst the chaos. Their words of reassurance and support had washed over you, their soothing voices attempting to ease the torment that had consumed your mind. Though their words had been barely audible through the fog of your despair, their presence alone provided a sense of unity and shared strength.

Sighing inwardly as you nestled yourself in the crook of Astarion’s shoulder, you remembered that back in that tavern on that night, time had seemed to lose all meaning to you. You had continued to tightly cling to Halsin as he cradled you, and your body had gradually succumbed to exhaustion.

After what had felt like an endless stretch of time, Astarion had finally returned. You recall that the room had been dimly lit by then, and the dancing candle light had cast long shadows on the worn wooden floor. You had heard the faint echoes of his fervent apologies, his voice trembling with remorse. The weight of his rage, which had been directed solely at you, had torn through your heart like a sharp knife. Truly, you hadn’t blamed him. It had been a battle within himself, a struggle to maintain control. Nevertheless, it had still shattered your already delicate heart and mind.

And then you recollected, amidst the heaviness of the situation, he having expressed his gratitude. The words had hung in the air as he had thanked you for rescuing him from the brink of losing his very self. You had saved him from becoming a reflection of the one he despised most in the world. Cazador Szarr.

Late that same night, under the glowing moonlight, he had guided you through the calm silence of the local cemetery. After having reached a secluded plot, he had unveiled a tombstone that had been crafted for him upon his ‘death’ as a mortal elf. The tombstone had stood there, adorned with weathered vines, a testament to the passaging of two long centuries. The air surrounding you both had carried a hint of mustiness and an earthy scent, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves. A chilling breeze had whispered through the graveyard, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Astarion’s voice had broken the silence then, and he described how this tombstone represented not only the end of his previous life in Cazador’s clutches, but also the death of the creature he could have become had he ascended. In that moment, he had realised he was no longer a mere spawn, but finally, truly free.

And as he often reminded you, even now, it had all been because of your unwavering perseverance, infinite patience, and resolute devotion. Your enduring devotion to him. For that, he had fallen profoundly for you and had not hesitated to confess his adoration right in front of his grave. He had not hesitated to guide you down onto the mound of earth, where your bodies soon intertwined with an intense fervour, either.

You remembered the fierce emotions that had flooded your body. Every touch and every caress from Astarion had sent shivers down your spine, electrifying your skin and loins with an unbearable ecstasy. The air around you had seemed to crackle with an intoxicating energy, as if the gods themselves had acknowledged the depth of your connection.

Your breath had hitched with each movement, the anticipation coursing through your veins. The taste of passion had lingered on your lips as a mix of desire and a hint of rebellion. The gritty texture of the earth beneath you had only heightened the rawness of the moment, grounding you in the physicality of your love.

You bit your bottom lip with the memories which now overwhelmed your senses. You felt it all again. With each feverish thrust, the passion had intensified. The heat between your bodies had grown to burning new heights and had wrapped you both in a cocoon of shared desire. Astarion’s touch had ignited a fire within you as his hands had explored every inch of your body with a frenzied hunger. The world around you then had faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of unbridled passion.

In that moment, the boundaries of time and place had ceased to exist. Moans and gasps had mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure and longing as you had moved together with an unspoken understanding.

It had been just you and him in that graveyard, your souls entwined as one. The world could have crumbled around you once again, yet you would have remained oblivious, lost in the sheer intensity of your love.

You trembled at the memory of the last echoes of ecstasy fading away, and the intense heat between your thighs after he had filled you. You had found solace in the knowledge that your devotion had been reciprocated with equal fervor.

As your mind floated back to your present time, you shivered again at the sudden delicious tingle at your junction, a soft moan escaping your lips. You froze, glancing up at your sleeping lover, hoping you had not been loud enough to stir him, but he was as still as the tombstone that adorned his grave. Which brought your salacious thoughts back to that night. That night had cemented your relationship once and for all. He was now yours and you were now his and the both of you had been inseparable since that night two years ago.