#we shall suffer together now

[hallowxiu]

i have a headcanon that my oc can stomach solomon's food, only for the fact that they're a simp, and don't want to hurt his feelings. they just keep a magical spell on themselves at all times whenever he's near that protects the lining of their stomach and temporarily disables their tastebuds LOL it's exhausting but it's helped them improve their magic

[smallest-moon]

he's an ancient being (powerful, sexy)

he's an ancient being (sad, depressing)

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

“I can’t be ‘Aegon the Magnanimous.’ No one knows what Magnanimous means.” Aegon drawls, slumped over in his throne. The hour is late and there are many places he’d rather be. Namely with his beloved wife, who he’s scarcely seen, since taking on his duties. Their children will already be asleep, but if they wrap things up here soon, he may have a few moments with Y/N before bed.

“Aegon the dragon cock.” One of the piss drunk men raises his cup to the king.

“That’s more like it,” Aegon claps his hands together.

The men hoot and holler at the name. Dissolving into laughter.

“Speaking of,” Aegon rises to his feet, “I must get back to my wife. I did not wed her to admire from afar.” Aegon tosses back the remainder of his wine, throwing his gauntlet down beside the throne. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

He wastes no time, taking the stairs two at a time up to his chambers. His queen is already abed, waiting up for him with a bit of light reading. “What story is that now, my dearest love?” Aegon asks, pulling off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.” Y/N bends it open at the spine, setting the bound pages on the bedside table.

“Seems a bit morbid.” Aegon frowns, “especially in these times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you have something better in mind, your grace?”

Aegon doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “You are my equal, here of all places. Don’t do this to me, please. Do not ice me out, I cannot bear it.”

Y/N sighs, crossing both arms over her chest. “Helaena is frightened of the rats. I’ve been looking into their behaviors and customs.”

Aegon flops onto the mattress, unceremoniously. “The rats?”

Y/N nods, “to be honest, I’m not particularly fond of them either. Although, they are interesting.”

“No vermin shall touch you so long as I live, darling girl. The only thing nibbling your toes will be me.” He wiggles his foot against hers for emphasis.

Y/N huffs a laugh. Allowing the silence between them to hang heavy.

“I am sorry about your brother.” Aegon says, despite ordering his own brother, Aemond, away at the news and holding her through sobs, he’s yet to say the words. “I cannot stand your suffering. It’s made it nearly impossible to be away from you to perform my duties.”

Y/N brings his hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles.

“I want you to attend the petitions,” he decides. “At my side, in my lap, seated directly on my cock; whatever suits you.”

“Directly on your cock?” Y/N chortles, “your mother would have my head.”

“She will do no such thing, you are queen. You may do as you wish.”

“You spoil me,” that’s what everyone says anyway.

“You’re mine to spoil. They’re jealous is all.”

“Shall we practice then? For the hearings?”

“If you wish.” Aegon rolls onto his back, sliding both arms behind his head.

Y/N grins, devilishly as she slides off his clothes, allowing his cock to spring free. Her own nightgown and small clothes follow before she swings a leg over his hips and slides down his length.

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

His wife leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“A tenth of my flock has been taken, your grace.” Aegon tells her, repeating one of the smallfolk’s concerns.

“Your what?” Y/N blinks at him.

“Sheep,” he continues, “a tenth of them gone, taken by your guard, just before winter. What say you, my queen?”

“Give them back.” Y/N sighs as his hands finally land on her hips, guiding her movements.

“That’s what I said,” Aegon hums, thrusting up to meet her.

“Did they listen?”

“No.” Aegon purses his lips, “they might need them to feed the dragons.”

“It’s much harder to concentrate this way, my king.”

“I know,” he coos, “but you’re doing so well.”

“The dragons,” Y/N pants, “have never required sheep from the smallfolk before.”

“We have never been to war.” Aegon says, through gritted teeth as she clenches around him.

“My mother will want revenge for Lucerys.”

“And I want this matter resolved peacefully.” Aegon assures her, “still I cannot give my brother up for the slaughter.”

“I don’t see how this can end peacefully now,” Y/N laments, feeling the coil in her belly tighten. “It will end in fire and blood.”

“What would you have me do?”

Y/N shakes her head, “We must stop Aemond from claiming Harrenhal at the least.”

“Consider it done.” Aegon beckons her down for a kiss.

The clatter of metal against the floor breaks them apart, “what was that?” Y/N’s eyes search the room.

“Twas only the wind, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles up at his wife.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “No. Something is wrong.”

“I agree,” Aegon takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a taut peak. “You stopped moving.”

“Aegon,” she warns, “please.”

“Shhh,” he gentles her back to a steady grind. “I’m here. You are safe.”

Y/N offers a shaky smile. Still something seems amiss, though she can’t think much more about it with Aegon’s free hand toying with her pearl.

“Cum on my cock, then we will look into it, if you feel so inclined.”

Y/N nods, bouncing faster, harder. Trying to ignore the worry twisting at her gut.

Aegon’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“More than anyone or anything, save for our children. I want you to remember that…always.”

Y/N nods, feeling herself teetering on the precipice. “I-” she wants to say it back, only her brain doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hush, sweetheart.” Aegon groans, because he knows. Rubbing his fingers harshly against her pearl to push her over the edge. Shaking and crying her release as she milks his cock. “Good girl.” Aegon fills her pulsing cunt with his spend.

She leans toward her husband, capturing his lips as they ride out their high. Once she has caught her breath Y/N rolls away, off of the bed, shuffling back into her nightgown.

Aegon follows her lead, redressing in his tunic and trousers. “Head to the children’s room, wait for me there. I’ll have the guards help me search the floor for any sign of…rats.”

Y/N wrings her hands, knowing how silly it sounds. “Thank you, Aegon.”

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek. “You’re more than welcome.” He watches her leave the room before heading in the opposite direction. Where is everyone? The keep is never so quiet, even at night.

Y/N scampers down the hallway to the nursery, it takes a moment for her mind to make sense of the scene before her. Helaena with a knife held to her throat by a strange man. His counterpart hovering over the children’s beds with a blade at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Y/N breathes, clutching a hand to her chest.

The man holding Helaena shoves her aside.

Y/N catches the woman in her arms, smoothing down her white tresses. Helaena clings to her. “It’s ok.”

The children sleep better together, they always have. Besides the maids prefer Aegon and Y/N’s children close to Aemond and Helaena’s for practical reasons, until they are older.

“Which of them are yours?” The first man demands.

“All of them,” Y/N lies. “All of them are mine.”

“You have but four children,” Cheese insists. “Here lie six, tell me which are yours and I will spare them.”

“If I don’t tell you and you’re wrong, my mother will have your head.” Y/N clenches her jaw. “For all I know of our true queen, this was not her request. So who’s was it?”

“A son for a son, that’s what’s fair.” Blood insists.

“What did they offer you? Gold?” Y/N wonders, “I’ll double it if you leave now.”

The men look to each other, undecided.

“Or you could take me instead. I’m worth more to my mother than any bounty.” Rhaenyra’s eldest child offers.

————————————————————————-

Aegon completes his sweep of their chambers, along with the rest of the royal floor. Nothing is amiss. He moves to the children’s quarters and finds Helaena, curled up on the floor. “What’s happened?”

Helaena takes her brother’s outstretched hand. “They wanted to kill the boy.”

The boy? “My boy?”

Helaena shakes her head, “mine.”

Aegon looks to his nephew, still sleeping soundly. “Where is Y/N?”

“They took her instead.”

“Where the hell is Cole?” Aegon demands. “Where in the seven hells is anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena sobs.

Part 2

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[ennas-aesthetic]

Can we just... Talk about this moment right here?

Because - God. Imagine being Edwin in Episode Six. 

Imagine being kissed for the first time and realizing that there are these feelings you have for your best friend that you need to confront, that you've felt this for him for a long while. Imagine the burst of panic, the terror this engenders - because while it was out of the question before, the act of being kissed (and - to your horror - finding yourself wishing it was with him instead) makes you consider for the first time that maybe, just maybe, admitting this to him won't be such a disaster. Maybe you can be honest with him now; nothing would have to change, and the delicate status quo you've built together for the past few decades doesn't have to crumble to dust. Charles is your best mate - you can’t keep lying to him if nothing else. He deserves to know. 

And it's nerve-wracking, and it's petrifying, and you're a ghost but it makes you feel so sick (no, not sick - ghosts aren't supposed to feel sick.) It makes you feel like you want to vibrate out of this plane of existence. You dress nicely to summon the courage needed, to brace yourself for the heart-flaying (you see him look at you, see him take in your new outfit. If he hadn't noticed it would have been so much easier... but he does. His smile is soft and fond, and the hope that blossoms from your chest is terrifying and pathetic). 

Then you think: "Buck up. Do it now." But there's a case that needs to be solved, and now everything's going wrong and everything is awful and suddenly you're clinging to the flimsy roots of an ancient, gnarled tree trying not to be subsumed by a giant mushroom. And you think, after more than a hundred years of pain and suffering, parting with the burden of existence would be a little easier, except you're back where you once started: a frightened schoolboy held down by cruel hands, and you're afraidafraidafraidafraidafraid...

You feel a hand, firm and steady, enclose upon yours.

Your head snaps up, eyes wide, and you see him staring right back at you. He does not say anything - the gag won't allow him to - but you know Charles, could read him in death, in this world and the next. He is scared but resolute, panicked but defiant. His grip on your hand is vise-like, and you choke back an incredulous sob. Because if this shall be the end, the final end, then at least you'll be going down together. There are no cruel hands this time, harsh enough to bruise: just his, fierce and unwavering. You don't have to face oblivion alone anymore. 

And... Oh, god. You're in love with him. You love him more than life, more than death - this you're certain. And for that moment you make yourself believe that maybe...just maybe...

He may be a tiny bit in love with you, too.

[devotion-disorder]

Am I the only one who only thinks of the Scooby Doo collar when looking at Asa's? Once I saw it I couldn't think of it any differently and now everyone shall suffer.

(PS, I accidentally failed in a conversation with someone and brought up Vaginal Yeast Anon)

💀💀💀💀💀💀bro

but you have a point...have we ever seen Asa and Scooby-doo in the same room together at the same time? much to think about...

[pseudowho]

Glory Glory: Nanami Kento

An absolutely unhinged delicious "Help, I'm stuck!" series, where the reader is taken care of by the JJK guys.

18+ as always. Pure smut.

*Visual art of Reader/Nanami positions, link enclosed*

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were never able to concentrate fully when sent on a mission with Nanami Kento, and it drove you to absolute distraction. The broad taper of his shoulders and nipped waist; the way his thighs strained his tan trousers dangerously tightly as he moved to sweep Curses like a minefield; the slow, considered, gravelly voice. You remained professional...but clumsy.

Already blushing after Kento complimented you smoothly on landing the killing blow on  the Curse, now crumbled and decaying before you, you sought the Cursed item that had been drawing such powerful monsters in. Roaming through the remnants of this crumbling city-edge mansion, you headed into a dining room, feeling the thrum of nearby Cursed energy that told you you were nearing your goal.

Your hand brushed the brickwork of an old chimney stack-- gotcha, you thought, leaning down to try to look up it, unable to find the right angle. Sitting on your bottom, and shuffling backwards to look directly up the chimney, you reached in, feeling something small and fabric wrapped, wedged into old brickwork. You began to work to free the item.

"In here!" you yelled, as you heard Kento call for you. Your yelling brought a crumble and cloud of soot and brick dust onto your face, and as you coughed, pulling the cursed item free, part of the chimney stack collapsed inwards against you, pinning you in place, bottom still sat on the floor below you.

You heard hard footsteps towards the room as you shrieked, Kento calling for you in concern. You coughed and spluttered, glasses covered in debris, stuck in the dark. You felt Kento approach, hearing him drop to his knees, and blushing as his hands lightly grazed your waist and hips, checking for injury.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his usual calm and considered self. He almost sounded like he was holding back a laugh, you thought.

"No, but I...I don't think I can get out. I'm stuck," you complained, mortified by your own lack of care. You heard Kento hum to himself.

"That is a problem," he toned, low and sardonic, "what shall we do with you?" You blushed, heat creeping up your cheeks at the promise in his voice. You swallowed.

"Uhm...Kento? Can you get me out?"

"Well, yes. I absolutely can." Silence. Kento's hands were still on your hips, fingers tapping, slow and thoughtful.

As you opened your mouth to speak again, clenching your thighs together, not unnoticed by Kento, he spoke again.

"But, why rush? After all," he toned, voice silky smooth as his fingers squeezed your hips appreciatively, "we might even see this as...serendipitous." You let out a soft gasp, squeaking as you felt his warm, broad palms reach underneath you to squeeze your arse, the touch drawn-out and lingering.

"I've waited for a long time, you know," he intoned, musing out loud, "all those missions together. All the times I've caught you staring. How the hairs stand up on your arms when I talk to you."

You trembled as you felt his hands wander to the front of your trousers, reaching down to deftly unbutton and unzip your them. You throbbed, thighs clenching and eager.

"I can almost taste you aching for me," Kento teased, thrilled by how you shook in silent anticipation. "It would be cruel to let you suffer like this any longer." Your eyes were closed now, lost in your dream of Kento taking charge being realised.

Kento felt his cock twitch against his thigh as he slipped his hand down the front of your trousers, humming in appreciation at the laced edge of your underwear, before grazing his fingers against your pussy, admiring the growing wetness of your underwear. His mouth watered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Feeling your thighs clamp around his hand, holding it in place, Kento chuckled as he heard a breathy moan from within the chimney stack. He continued to stroke you, increasing the pressure just enough that you felt a distant soft ache building in your clit.

"Kento-- I-- please--"

"Lovely manners," he groaned, palming himself through his trousers as he slowly started to edge his fingers out of your trousers. You let out a frustrated squeak and a wiggle, and Kento bit his lip to suppress another laugh.

"Ask nicely," he teased, admiring the soft spread of your thighs against the floor, running his other hand up and down them to delight in the plushness of you. He pursed his lips in mirth as he heard you huff at him behind the chimney stack.

Your complaining stopped, however, when you felt him grip your trousers and eagerly peel them off you, along with your underwear, leaving your bottom half totally naked in one shockingly bold move.

You were speechless, blushing wildly and flustered, and you heard fabric-y shuffles against the floor, before feeling your bottom lifted by strong arms and settled onto Kento's muscular, planed chest. You squeaked as he slapped your bum in appreciation, the sting making you moan.

"I hope you know this is me asking you out for dinner," he soothed. Kento lifted your bottom again, high enough for him to wriggle under and delve his tongue into your quivering heat, wetting his lips at the sight of your soft folds and full round arse.

"Although...at least the first time, I'll be eating out without you." You had barely a moment to process before Kento released your weight, forcing your pussy down onto his face. You cried out, feeling your clit immediately hit Kento's chin, his tongue appreciatively licking a long stripe between your entrance and clit, nose nuzzling into your fluttering hole.

Pleasure hit you in deep throbs as Kento rocked your hips back and forth on his face, encouraging you to ride him, your knees and thighs splayed out at either side of his head. Allowing you to roll your clit against his chin and lips until you were mewling, your essence running down his neck to decorate his collar, Kento shifted his mouth down to pucker his lips firmly around your clit, flicking his tongue quickly against it.

You shivered, begging, "-- oh god, Kento-- just keep doing that, that's perfect, I can't-- I can't--" Kento carried on, nose still nuzzling into your pussy and tongue flicking against your clit, pleasuring you with absolute practiced ease. He groaned as he felt your thighs clamp around his head, the vibrations sending you over the cliff's edge and you fell, stomach swooping and clenching as you came with a cry, gasping and coughing as more brick dust collapsed onto your face.

Kento nuzzled into you, gripping your thighs affectionately with strong forearms, rocking you from side to side as he squeezed them to the sides of his head, cuddling your lower half to him. Lifting you off, and planting a kiss on your folds, Kento lifted his tie to wipe your cum off his face.

"Is that a yes to dinner, then?" He asked, laughing as you tried to kick at him.

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Also arriving tonight on scheduled blogs:

Kamo Choso, Higuruma Hiromi

[ladysharmaa]

Kate mini version

Sharma!sis x Queen Charlotte's son

Summary: After the ball, everyone knows what happened between Y/n and Prince Charles. With the attention of high society members and the Queen, they face new obstacles as they fall in love.

part 1 part 2 part 3

Dearest reader,

The tone is abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it's my honor to impart to you.

Miss Y/n Sharma came to England after Kate Sharma's marriage to Viscount Bridgerton. In such a short time she managed to do something that no one else has managed to do: capture the attention of Queen Charlotte's youngest son, Prince Charles.

Dearest reader, this author finds herself compelled to share the most curious of news. It seems the two seemed to be quite close during the last dance, having danced together until Y/n walked away. But Prince Charles didn't take his eyes off the young woman for the rest of the night. Is a new romance brewing? Let's not forget that at the beginning of the season, her Majesty made her intentions clear of joining her youngest son with the princess of Austria.

In addition, Miss Y/n is here at her mother's request, living with her older sister, Kate Bridgerton, and her husband, Lord Bridgerton. Is it permanent or will she return to India? There are many mysteries yet to be unraveled.

On the other hand, the diamond of the season did not dance with any suitor, which may have made her Majesty uneasy. This author is left to wonder what shall her next move be, now that everything seems to be connected to the Bridgerton family.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"This is not good." Y/n muttered nervously, looking over Kate's shoulder to read the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. And to his greatest horror, she was the main topic. "How many people read this?"

"Too many." the older sister sighed, before placing the paper next to her and turning to Y/n who had her eyes increasingly wide. "Everything's fine. Most of the family has already suffered from Lady Whistledown's words and we support each other. And everything ended up being fine, the ton has short memory and will forget all about this by the next scandal."

"But what if they don't forget?"

"If they don't forget what?" a new voice intruded into the conversation.

Y/n let out a small scream, immediately recognizing Anthony's voice, and hurried to hide the paper behind her back. "Nothing. It's a beautiful day, I'm going to the gardens. Maybe hide there all day. Or all year."

"Y/n, no. You have to tell Anthony, he won't blame you for anything."

Bridgerton's eyebrows rose upon hearing that, turning to Y/n with a frown upon noticing her terrified expression. "What happened?"

"My apologies, Anthony. The last thing I wanted to do was associate the name Bridgerton with scandals. Lady Whistledown wrote about last night. About… About Prince Charles and I." She looked down, not wanting to see Anthony's disapproving look, and handed him the paper.

The minutes dragged on. To Y/n it felt like hours had passed. Long hours with just the silence in the room. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she tried to control the tears from reaching her eyes. Her head was running with different questions that only made her anxiety worse. Would they send her back to India so they wouldn't suffer any more from this scandal? She didn't know that dancing with someone could cause so many problems.

Just the thought of returning to her homeland, despite having loved growing up there, brought her great sadness. Her life was in England now. She adored her sister's family, having grown up close to many of them, especially Francesca and Hyacinth. And the truth is that she had enjoyed meeting Prince Charles. Y/n finally felt like she belonged somewhere.

She snapped out of these thoughts when she heard Anthony sigh. What was that? Disappointment? Anger? Sadness?

"Look at me." he said, but Y/n refused, knowing that as soon as she looked at the couple she would burst into tears. She shook her head, pursing her lips. "Y/n…"

"Please don't send me back to India."

"What?" the Viscount questioned in shock, almost not having noticed her from how quietly she spoke. He felt Kate hold his hand, looking sadly at her sister. "Y/n, look at us. We are not going to send you back to India."

"Really?" She raised her head shyly, her eyes red from holding back tears.

"Of course. You're part of the family. I haven't told you yet, but Mama sent a letter. Edwina had problems during the birth, so she's going to stay there until at least the rest of the year. You're going to stay with us. Here."

"Y/n, we would never send you away because of Lady Whistledown's news. You're a Bridgerton now." Anthony assured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her smile upon hearing those words, although still small, released some of the stress that Anthony and Kate were feeling.

"Hey, Anthony, I was wondering— Oh, sorry!" Hyacinth entered the room, stopping when she saw the three of them and the tense atmosphere it was in. Then he noticed the sad face and the paper his brother was holding. "Is that from Lady Whistledown? What does it say?"

"It doesn't matter what it says. What did you want to tell me, Hyacinth?"

"Oh, I was wondering if we could go horse riding. I am so bored, Gregory is training and Benedict isn't paying attention to me." she pouted, causing Y/n to giggle and rush over to Hyacinth, intertwining their arms.

"Fear no more, I shall give you attention."

"Thank you, kind lady." Hyacinth laughed. "Please, Anthony, take us horse riding."

When he offered to teach Y/n how to ride a horse, the rest of his sisters were also invited, since the men already knew how to do it. As expected, only Hyacinth accepted with great enthusiasm while Eloise preferred to read and spend her time with her new friend, Miss Cressida. For her part, Francesca was never much for outdoor sports and Daphne was obviously busy with her husband and son. Thus, Y/n and the youngest Bridgerton both formed a special friendship, and were now a feared duo in the Bridgerton house.

"What do you say?" he whispered in his wife's ear, looking at the two girls who were giving them the best puppy dog ​​eyes. "I'm afraid I can't say no to them."

"I think it's a great idea." Kate smiled.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The four then ventured into the forest. Anthony and Kate were ahead, lost in their own world while Hyacinth and Y/n followed a little behind. The younger girl curiously questioned Sharma about the night of the ball, upset that she was still too young to attend one.

"I wish I had gone yesterday. Did you dance with someone yesterday? I tried to ask Francesca the same thing, but she wouldn't leave her room."

"Unexpected things happened. Francesca is just a little discouraged. As diamond of the season, she has a lot of pressure on her. And I… Well, I danced with someone."

"Prince Charles?! I saw you both when we went for a picnic, I think it was love at first sight." Hyacinth giggled.

"Sometimes I forget how good an observer you are. Yes, I danced with him." Before her friend could get too excited, Y/n hurried to add. "And I was naive, because although I enjoyed being with him, he has an enormous responsibility. I doubt people would want him to spend his time with me."

"Please, I think you are in love."

"What? Of course not, I barely know him. We just had fun dancing, but that must be over by now. I doubt her Majesty will let him dance with me again. Lady Whistledown made sure of that."

"If you say so. I, on the other hand, do not agree. Prince Charles has shown that he is interested in you. Or he would have danced with other girls after you. But he didn't."

"Well, maybe he was tired." Y/n shrugged, while Hyacinth rolled her eyes. They continued the walk in silence, enjoying the forest landscape.

“Girls, let’s do a race!” Anthony shouted, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. Y/n chuckled, knowing he had never met a family as competitive as the Bridgertons. But she was one now too, and she loved winning.

“Very well. But make sure you don’t get too sad when I win.” Hyacinth teased, despite being the one with the least experience riding a horse.

“We’ll see.” Kate joined the teasing.

The four positioned themselves next to each other, letting the man count down. Y/n grabbed the reins tighter, and as soon as Anthony finished, she let her horse run. For a moment they were all balanced, but Hyacinth quickly fell behind. The couple competed a little ahead, trying to reach a certain narrower entrance. So, with their attention diverted from her, she took the opportunity to step over a fallen tree trunk, arriving earlier at that entrance, continuing at the same pace.

She felt free on a horse. The wind hit their face, the landscape blurred from how fast they were going. Y/n petted the animal, feeling like they could conquer the world.

When she realized that the others had already stopped, as no one had yet reached her, she also slowed down so she could wait for them to catch up. They probably had to go back to help Hyacinth control her horse.

“That was impressive.” she heard behind her.

Although she felt a second of fear, thinking that an unknown man had found her alone in the middle of the forest, she quickly associated it with the voice of the person she least wanted to see at that moment. As such, she just closed her eyes and hoped it was just her imagination. But when he cleared his throat, she knew she had to face him. Finally, she commanded the horse to turn around, finding herself face to face with Prince Charles, who was also on top of a beautiful black horse.

“Prince Charles, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” she smiled shyly.

“You as well, Miss Y/N. I didn’t know you were so talented at riding. Did Lady Bridgerton teach you?”

“She and Viscount Bridgerton. And since then I haven’t wanted anything else.” she shrugged uncomfortably, both not knowing what to say. In this way, Y/n focused on the horse that the prince was riding, being shocked by its size. “Beautiful.” She looked at Charles, noticing his look of surprise and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “I mean, the horse— The horse is beautiful.”

“Of course.” he looked away, clearing his throat. “It seems we both had the same idea after the paper published by Lady Whistledown. A nice walk was exactly what I needed to get away from my mother.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to interfere with your marriage with the Princess of Austria.”

“Her Majesty wants me to marry her. But I don't. You see, a beautiful, fierce, remarkable girl has already caught my attention. It may seem sudden, but she is constantly in my thoughts.” he looked intensely into her eyes. Out of nowhere, it seemed like it had become much hotter, her breathing coming in muffled.

“Oh… I—”

“Y/n! Where are you?” Kate's voice was heard through the forest, breaking the atmosphere that had formed between them.

“I’m here, Kate.” Y/n replied, closing her eyes in despair when she realized that she would have a lot to explain once they arrived.

She had already taken a risk with Lady Whistledown, and now they were alone in an isolated place… It's a good thing no one outside the family would see them, or the scandal would have become much more serious. A feeling of guilt coursed through her body again. She had promised Anthony that she didn't want to associate the Bridgerton name with scandals, and here she was doing exactly the opposite.

“Prince Charles, we can’t talk anymore. It’s not right.” she said before the others appeared.

“Why not? Because of Lady Whistledown? Ignore her, the ton will quickly forget about this.”

“You don’t know that!” Y/n exclaimed exasperated at how calm Charles seemed to be about this situation.

“I know that I want to be with you.”

“You are crazy!” she put her hand over her mouth when she realized that she had “insulted” a member of the royal family. “Apologies, Prince Charles. I didn’t mean that.”

“Call me Charles.”

“I take back my apologies.”

“Finally, we found you, Y/N. We had to go back because Hyacinth’s horse refused to move.” Kate appeared, followed by the others, stopping when she saw what was happening. She made a small bow, looking at them suspiciously. “Prince Charles, I didn’t expect to see you here. Especially with my sister.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Anthony wasn't as friendly as his wife, narrowing his eyes and approaching Y/n to stand slightly in front of her.

“Lord Bridgerton, I guarantee nothing happened. I was simply, like you, taking a walk when I saw Miss Y/n. We only talk about what Lady Whistledown wrote.” Charles assured, sending a comforting smile to Y/n, who was watching the two nervously.

“It was mere chance that we found each other. We can go back to the house now.”

Anthony signaled to Kate, who nodded. They had mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes, it still left Y/n quite confused when they did that. But this time, she understood perfectly. Lowering her head slightly, she followed her sister and Hyacinth home, while Anthony and Charles remained behind. Over her shoulder, she mumbled a quick apology to the boy, hoping he would understand what she meant.

When the women were out of sight, Anthony turned to the Prince , who appeared unaffected. “I hope you’re not trying to ruin my wife’s sister’s reputation. You know very well what the ton would say if they found you in this situation. And I guarantee you, you don’t want to duel me.”

“I agree. That's the last thing I desire. Miss Y/n would certainly never speak to me again. And I don't want that. Lord Bridgerton, we were just talking, and on horses for more. But, for all the respect I have for Miss Y/n and the Bridgerton family, I assure you this will never happen again.”

"It better not."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After a tense conversation with Kate and Anthony, they believed Y/n when she said it was a coincidence to meet Prince Charles, but that she understood the gravity of being alone with a man.

So, she spent a few days locked up at home, hoping that the scandal had already been forgotten. However, this isolation couldn't last forever, so she was forced to join the Bridgerton family on a walk by the lake.

She had her arm linked with Benedict's, Eloise beside her, while they listened to Collin's travel stories. He had seen so much, experienced so many new cultures, that Y/n just wanted to know more. Eloise, in turn, seemed envious that only men could have the pleasure of traveling alone wherever they wanted, and Benedict asked about the art of each country, something that Y/n barely understood.

However, Collin ended up rushing the end of the story, seeing a group of girls walking, giggling when they saw him. Eloise groaned in disgust, while Benedict shook his head, changing direction so he wouldn't have to watch his brother flirt. Y/n also went with them, not wanting to see that scene.

But she noticed that they had been stopped by Lady Wilson, whose daughter was participating in the season along with Y/n, Francesca, and Eloise. "Good afternoon, Lady Wilson."

"Good afternoon." she said. "I noticed you didn't go to the ball yesterday. I haven't yet had a chance to talk with Lady Bridgerton to know if everything is alright."

"Thank you for your concern." Benedict said sarcastically, taking control since Anthony wasn't around. "We had other matters to attend, but I assure you that we will be present at the ball tomorrow."

"That's wonderful news." the woman said with a fake smile. "In that case you will be able to see my daughter dancing with Prince Charles, just like yesterday. They form a beautiful couple, don't you think?"

Y/n had to control herself not to roll her eyes. It was clear what Lady Wilson was trying to do, but there would be no reaction from her. Eloise and Benedict looked at her from the corner of their eyes, waiting to know if Y/n needed them to interrupt the conversation.

"I don't know. I didn't see them together nor did I have the opportunity to know about it since Lady Whistledown didn't write about them. And we all know that she writes about everything that happens, and it seems especially important if the prince is interested in someone to court. Looks like we'll have to wait and see."

"Yes, we shall wait." Lady Wilson clenched her jaw. "I'm certain that the prince loved to dance with my daughter."

"If you say so. Please excuse us, we shall return to the rest of our family." Y/n said dryly, hurrying to walk in the opposite direction with the two Bridgertons behind her.

"Jealous, dear sister?" Benedict asked with a sly smile once they were far enough away from the woman.

"No. Why would I be?" Y/n pretended not to be bothered, but in reality the thought of Charles dancing with someone else didn't sit very well with her. But what could she be expecting, she had said that they shouldn't talk anymore and he had to get married this season. "I'm just surprised that Lady Wilson is so confident in her daughter with the prince when the Queen wants him with the princess of Austria."

"Hmm." was the only response she received from Benedict. Eloise, already fed up with just hearing about the season, changed the subject and Y/n was also grateful for that. The last thing she wanted was to think about the next ball.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"What are you going to do?" Hyacinth asked as she helped Y/n and Francesca get ready for ball. The two had already put on their dresses and now all that was left was the jewelry. Kate had already come to say that they would have to leave soon, smiling calmly when she noticed the nervous state of her sister who had changed her dress about five times already.

“About what?”

“About the prince, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I am a little confused. This is all happening so quickly. And the fact that Lady Whistledown wrote about us didn't help. But the truth is that when I'm with him, I don't know, I feel different.” Y/n tried to explain, but realized she couldn't describe her feelings in words. It was something foreign to her, but not unwanted.

“I know what it is. You like him.” the Bridgerton dropped onto the bed dramatically.

“But liking may not be enough. Don't forget that the Queen has a lot of influence on these things. And I wouldn’t want to piss her off, it would only hurt all of you.”

"You are exaggerating. Francesca, what do you think of this?”

“What?” the girl snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her name. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What are you thinking about?” Y/n sat next to her, taking her hand.

“I haven't had almost any suitors yet. And the ones I have seem incapable of having a conversation. What if I don’t find anyone?” Francesca revealed with a sigh, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Nonsense. Everyone would love to dance with you. In fact, I have a feeling you are going to meet someone today.” the Sharma said. “And for that to happen, we must leave and go to this ball. If you need to, we can stay together all night.”

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I want you to have your chance with the prince.”

“After all, you were listening!” Hyacinth exclaimed, groaning as the two left the room and left her there. Now she had to wait until tomorrow to find out everything that was going to happen!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ball was already full of people, from nervous mothers to innocent daughters who giggled when a suitor asked them to dance. Y/n and Francesca walked in together, both of them taking deep breaths and looking at each other in encouragement. They could do this.

While Francesca's nerves increased as she saw the Queen's eyes fall on her, Y/n's heart began to beat faster when she noticed Charles, who was standing next to his mother. However, he was not alone, finding himself in conversation with the princess of Austria. From what the Sharma could understand from the few moments in which she let herself focus on them, they seemed to be getting along well, sharing polite smiles.

"Maybe we shall get a refreshment first?" Y/n said, seeing that the family had already dispersed.

"A great idea." Francesca swallowed, nodding several times.

The two hurried to a corner of the room, sending a quick smile to the people passing by. Fortunately, no one engaged them in a long conversation, allowing them to mentally prepare themselves to face that night.

They stopped next to Penelope, who looked at the dancing couples with a sad look. "Are you alright, Penelope?"

"Yes, of course, Francesca." the redhead replied shyly, offering a small smile to the two girls. "You ought to take the floor."

"Ought we?" the Bridgerton chuckled humorlessly.

"Once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. No matter what one does." Penelope looked down, pursing her lips.

"Better to be on the wall than to make fools of ourselves." Y/n she murmured, discreetly looking at the boy who had invaded her heart, still talking to the beautiful princess. Only this time, almost feeling her gaze on him, he glanced at her, showing what appeared to be a genuine smile. "This is so confusing."

"I agree. At least the wall doesn't ask me about what makes me tick." Francesca complained, still upset about the failed conversations from the last ball. The older girl looked at her understandingly, noticing that Francesca was more reserved. Maybe that was what made her rare, different from all the other girls.

"And why are you on the wall, Penelope? I'm sure there are lots of gentlemen here who would be more than willing to ask for your hand in a dance!"

"Oh no. Nobody wants to dance with me. Believe me." she replied with a slight blush, embarrassed that she didn't have any suitors when this wasn't her first season, unlike them.

"They must be blind, then. You are beautiful." Y/n confessed honestly, really confused that they let such an incredible person like Penelope escape. If she could, she would drag the redhead and Francesca to dance, but she knew it was against the rules.

The three fell into a silence, not uncomfortable, but as if they all had more to think about than trying to carry on a conversation. From the other side of the room, Charles watched Sharma as if in a trance, quickly leaving the conversation he was having to go to meet her.

However, he was interrupted by Charlotte who discreetly held his arm. "What are you doing? Must I remind you that you shall marry this season?"

"Why are you putting so much pressure on me with this. You have so many other children, but I'm the only one who has to suffer with this."

"Your siblings reproducing bastards for me to ignore. You are my last hope, son. I have made sure to give so many heirs to your father, and none of my children seem to be fornicating." she said. When she noticed that she was being too harsh with her youngest son, she sighed. "Bridgerton, Charles?"

"What seems to be the problem? You've already accepted many of their marriages, including naming two Bridgertons as diamonds of the season and ignoring the scandal between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Bridgerton." Charles controlled himself not to roll his eyes.

"Yes… But that was until my son was mentioned in the paper of Lady Whistledown because he was just interested in a girl. Especially when the princess of Austria traveled here just to meet you."

"And I enjoyed meeting her. But I enjoyed much more meeting Y/n Sharma." he admitted, his voice conveying the confidence he felt in those words. "She's the one I want. The one I'll follow to the end of the world if necessary. Don't make me marry someone else, mom, I want her. Just her."

"I believe the boy is in love." Lady Dandbury appeared beside them, looking at the boy with knowing eyes. Charlotte glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "The dance they shared was remarkable. The London Season is already terribly monotonous as it is. Therefore, these cases of passion make it more enjoyable. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed, Lady Danbury." Charles nodded, appreciating her help in convincing the Queen. "May I go now?"

Charlotte watched him for a few moments, noticing how he was restless, his body tilted towards Y/n. Almost as if he had no control over himself, unconsciously wanting to always be close to her. This wait was killing him.

The woman didn't respond verbally, just offered a small nod of permission, and her son was gone in the blink of an eye.

Almost running, the prince arrived next to Y/n, who continued to watch people dancing. She was now only with Penelope, as Francesca was taken by Violet to meet some suitors. Charles approached silently, placing himself in her line of sight and simply offering her a hand.

"What are you doing?" she whispered with wide eyes. Beside her, Penelope excused herself, giving the couple space. Not that they paid much attention, appearing not to have even heard her.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm asking you to dance with me."

"You don't give up, do you?" Y/n let a small smile appear, pretending to be upset by the boy's persistence. Inwardly, her heart was beating furiously fast. She didn't want to dance. She wanted to get away from there so she could be with Charles alone, the two of them talking all night.

But their moment was interrupted by Lady Wilson's daughter, who suddenly appeared and grabbed the prince's arm. "Prince Charles, you promised me a dance. Shall we?"

Y/n took a step back, trying to hide her sadness. Charles hadn't even removed her arm from his. This was a reminder that Charles was not yet hers, and with her indecision, that was becoming increasingly difficult. He had so many good options for marriage, why would he choose her? What made her special from all the others?

Trying to make sure no one saw the tears that threatened to appear, the Sharma decided it was best to leave for the rest of the night. Perhaps Anthony and Kate would believe she was feeling unwell and needed to go home.

But before he could move away completely, Charles snapped out of his shock, grabbing Y/n's hand to pull her closer while shaking the other woman's hold.

He clenched his jaw, upset at not being able to have a single moment of peace with Y/n. "My apologies, Miss." Y/n had to put her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement when Charles didn't remember the girl's name. "Right now, I would like to dance with Miss Y/n. So if you will excuse us."

"But—"

"What do you say, Miss Y/n. Shall you give me the pleasure of having this dance?" Charles asked quickly before the annoying girl spoke again. His attention was on Sharma, who was looking at him adoringly. Was this what people felt when they were in love? It felt like he couldn't breathe. In a good way.

"We shall… Charles." she laughed. Charles' mouth opened in shock, appearing to have frozen to the ground. In a playful way, she rolled her eyes, guiding him to the dance floor, which was now empty as people saw the two walk there.

Despite the nerves she felt, Y/n felt good with Charles, so she decided to ignore ton's opinions on this. The boy bowed as he offered her his hand, followed by a bow from Y/n, and immediately the music began.

"You called me Charles."

"A very good observation."

"You know, I thought Lord Bridgerton would kill me the moment I looked at you. It would be worth it." he twirled her around, loving it when he heard her little giggles. When she landed on the ground, her eyes found Kate and Anthony watching them, but instead of upset, they looked happy that Y/n was happy. "I must say that when you said we couldn't meet again, it hurt."

"My deepest apologies. How could I have said such absurd things?" Y/n said dramatically, noticing Charles' amusement.

"All is well now. As long as you promise to not run anymore. Even if Lady Whistledown or someone else writes about us. I promise I won't let anything hurt you or your family."

Y/n focused on his eyes. They were honest and had a glow of adoration about them. "What about the Princess of Austria?"

"As I also told her Majesty, I have no interest in her. My heart already belongs to you, Y/n. No one else can take your place."

The music was slowing down, indicating that it would end soon. The boy gripped Y/n's waist tighter, fearing that he would have to let go when he was enjoying savoring every moment of their closeness.

"My heart belongs to you too, Charles." she scrunched her eyebrows and Charles could feel his heart close to bursting. He wanted to marry her.

Instead, he controlled himself from saying it right away, knowing that he would have to talk to Anthony first and ask for Y/n's hand in marriage. Or he feared the Bridgerton wrath. For now, having Y/n in his arms was enough.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

update: this fic's been posted!! click here to read!

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade.  Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."  

Wait. What?  

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.  

You blink. You must have misheard.  

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."  

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.' 

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.  

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.  

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"  

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you." 

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?" 

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply." 

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.  

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.  

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak.  Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two.  And you?  

You're screwed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

[doudouma]

“douma has a WHAT !?”

douma with his child! (reader) _______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

hmm.. i thought it would be fun if i write headcanons if dad!douma is the father of child!reader!

there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

i will keep it gender neutral.❀ 〜

a/n : i say child, but i more so mean a toddler. reader is around 2-5.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

well for starters..

you would be spoiled.

and i mean SPOILED.

douma simply wouldn’t have a problem giving his child what they want. given he’s rich after all〜

douma would get REALLY clingy to his child. fast. he would also gain love for his child.

real love, not his facade love.

“lord muzan, what is this feeling? why does my child gives me this feeling, of maybe.. happiness, you call it?”

“…because you love your child?”

“hmm. i’ve heard of ‘love’ before..”

give him some time, he’ll realize it eventually.

did i mention that he’d be clingy? nonstop kisses. hugs. headpats. cuddles. even “i love you” although he doesn’t fully understand it yet.

you were able to make him feel emotions, so he ISN'T letting go of that. he’ll do whatever it takes to protect his child.

if his child was to ever cry, he wouldn’t exactly understand, but he does know that tears = not good. so he’d be on it asap. seeing daki cry a lot helped him comprehend that.

“ohhh, my little lotus! what’s wrong, hm? cmon now, don’t cry.. how about you color with papa?”

if you were still crying, he would lowkey be worried. and call for uncle akaza.

does akaza wanna be the said “uncle”? NO.

but for the sake of the child? YES.

as we know, akaza doesn’t like douma. but he wont let a poor CHILD suffer from him.

you giving douma emotions also means that you unlock his protective mode. always on lookout, keeping a eye on muzan when his child is near him, even watching both humans AND demons around his child.

douma may be childish and sometimes aloof, but he will not mess around when it comes to his precious flower.

surprisingly, douma would get quite angry if akaza says he should take his child, because he isn’t “doing a good job.”

when in reality douma would be. he’d do his very best. he’d give it his all. akaza just doesn’t trust him with a child. let alone anything.

douma would trust you with akaza, kokushibo, and muzan the most if he couldn’t be with you. although he would try to just bring you along with him to avoid all of that. but sometimes he just can’t.

(by the way, kokushibo and akaza wouldn’t mind babysitting you. muzan will do it, only after he threatens douma about it.)

he’d be really excited to see you once he comes back.

“my little love! im so happy to see you! did you miss papa? lets do something together, shall we?♡”

douma would absolutely be obsessed with dotting on you. he loves his new feeling of love.

sometimes it can even be a bit too much, but he just wants to let his child know that they are loved.

some phrases you’ll hear from dad!douma very often:

“papa loves you soooo much!! you love papa too, right?”

“my dear lotus! you’re so cute〜!”

“my little love.. i’m afraid i can’t understand you.. but you’re really adorable〜!”

“how about papa put on a little ice show for you, hm?”

overall, douma would be a amazing father, and only learn to improve to ensure his child the best childhood.♡

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

this was really fun to write! i hope to do more child reader in the future〜

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You have no choice but to follow Sauron and your daughter to Mordor because you do not want to abandon her. As time passes, you find yourself being lured by your husband's charm once more as the memories of his cruelty in Eregion begin to fade away.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — And here we are go with the last part! I know I probably write Sauron's relationship with his daughter in a very idealistic way – that in canon he would be most likely way worse. But writing it like that would bring me no joy. 🤷🏻‍♀️ It's a fic for dad!Sauron and I want him to be at least a bit decent while we're at it! 😤

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Sauron, Sauron being a very mid dad who manipulates his daughter and teaches her how to be evil like him, child in danger (nothing happens in the end), murder (of the Orcs), Celebrimbor has gone mad-mad, immaculate conception (yes, again!)

WORD COUNT — 4,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (III)

Celebrimbor was out of his mind again. Your heart ached for him as you were sitting next to him and caressing his hair softly as if he was a child. He had spent centuries taking care of you and now it was your turn to return the favour. You kept sobbing, feeling angry at yourself that you could not protect him.

Sauron was gone. After finding out where The Rings were, he had left in a hurry, leaving you with a few Orcs that had come to the forge in the meantime. They wanted to plead their allegiance to your husband and the very first task they had been given was to watch over you, your daughter and your uncle. To make sure none of you would escape.

Almárea was not scared of them, which surprised you. In fact, she approached them and kept asking them a million questions as the Orcs were growing a little frustrated with her curiosity. They were, however, answering all her questions patiently. You cracked a smile at that. She was still a child – curious and so full of life.

So full of light, too. You could not let the darkness win within her.

“I shall not allow him to hurt you, uncle. I shall not, I promise,” you kissed Celebrimbor’s forehead and your uncle looked up at you with hazy eyes and a loving smile. “You have endured and suffered so much because of him already. But no more, no more, uncle… Now you must rest.”

“Your daughter…” He mumbled out and you looked down at his face with a sad smile. “Is she not the most precious? She is the exact copy of you, sweet (Y/N). You were a girl like her once, running around this very forge.”

“I remember, uncle,” you sobbed. “I remember it vividly. My father and you working together, my mother still happy and full of life, before she began a lifetime of mourning. I remember…”

You pulled him closer and tried to come up with an idea how to save him. Even if Sauron would not kill him – he had made this promise to Almárea when she had revealed to him Lady Galadriel had been the one to have The Rings now and you wanted to believe he would keep that promise – you still had a feeling your husband would use Celebrimbor somehow or hurt him. 

“Almárea?” You called out for her and she turned around to lay her eyes upon you. You beckoned her over and she nodded at the Orcs before running up to you. “Almárea, do you want uncle Celebrimbor to be safe?”

“Of course, mummy,” your daughter’s eyes widened.

“Can you distract them as I walk him out of here? I will be right back,” you whispered as you pointed at the Orcs with your chin.

“I do not know, mummy… Last time I listened to you, daddy was very angry…” She looked down, nervously.

“Almárea, please. Do you love uncle Celebrimbor?” You asked.

“Yes, of course,” she nodded.

“Then, please…”

“But will you come back to me? Truly?” She lifted up her eyes and looked into yours with a hint of anxiety.

“My darling, always. I shall never abandon you,” you promised, truthfully. Your heart ached at the thought she was not as sure of it as you were.

Eventually, she nodded as she turned around towards the Orcs once more. She ran up to them joyfully and kept asking them questions. When you moved up, dragging Celebrimbor with you, they did not even flinch, which meant that your daughter’s deception was working.

You felt bad for leaving her with them even for a short moment but at this moment it was your uncle who was the most vulnerable and who needed you more. You owed him that, at least.

You walked him out of the forge and hurried to the secret tunnel below the city. The Orcs who had taken over Eregion were feasting now in havoc in the courtyard, which distracted them enough to make it possible for you to lead your uncle safely to the passage.

You walked inside with him and he was following you like a trusting child. In the middle of the passage, you bumped into Herald Elrond. Your heart was in joy to see him and to know that he was safe. He had been some sort of a cousin to you – his father had also been a friend of Celebrimbor and he also was a half-Elf. You had many things in common and you had been close friends in your youth.

“(Y/N), thank the Valar,” he sighed. “Where is your daughter? I was sent here by the High King to make an attempt to rescue you and–” He began.

“I must go back,” you shook your head with your eyes full of tears. “Take uncle Celebrimbor to safety. Heal his mind. Forget about me,” you pleaded and he furrowed his brows.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “Where is Almárea?”

“Please, Elrond. You must not know,” you insisted before kissing your uncle’s forehead once more and caressing his cheeks to tell him goodbye.

“(Y/N)!” Elrond called out for you when you turned around to go back to Eregion and to your daughter.

“If you love me and respect me,” you began. “If you love Celebrimbor… Just take him away from here. That is all I ask for,” you insisted and hurried back to Eregion. “Do not follow me!” You exclaimed after hearing him trying to rush after you.

He eventually listened to you because he had a huge love for Celebrimbor and he could see the state of him was not the best. You heard the sound of their steps subduing as you went back to Eregion. 

You went back to the forge, feeling a bit more peaceful on the inside, knowing that you managed to save your uncle from Sauron. You nodded at Almárea and she nodded back at you, visibly relieved to see you coming back to her.

Her father came back not long after, too. He was wearing a breastplate and holding Morgoth’s crown in his hand, which was dripping blood – you could feel from afar its purity and light. It was Elven.

“Have you killed her?” You whispered with widened eyes.

“Sadly, no,” Sauron answered with a smirk. “But I got The Nine,” he added and you looked away, feeling defeated. “Speaking of, where is Celebrimbor?”

“Far away,” you mumbled out, expecting him to lash out.

Surprisingly, he did not. He shrugged his arms.

“Whatever. He is no use to me anymore. Almárea, we are leaving,” he extended his free hand and nodded at her.

“You cannot take her away from me!” You turned your head around again to watch what she would do. She hesitated but then she ran up to him and squeezed his hand, which felt like a punch straight into your heart.

“Where are we going, daddy?” She asked.

“To our new home,” Sauron answered and turned around, dragging her behind him but she remained still. “What is it?” He asked with an irritated sigh.

“We are taking mummy with us, right?” She asked.

Long silence occurred. Sauron laid his cold and empty eyes upon you, sitting on the floor with your back pressed to the wall and crying silent tears.

“It is her choice,” he answered, softly, “but I doubt she wants to go with us.”

“On the contrary. I have no choice,” you gritted your teeth, clumsily standing up. “I must go where she goes. Even if it is a path I hate to follow.”

“Do you truly realise who I am?” Your husband titled his head at your words. “All the stories they have told you about me when you were a child – I am worse than any of them.”

“I am fully aware,” you approached him and held Almárea’s free hand. “And that is why I must go to make sure you do not turn her into a monster like you.”

It took you a few days of travel with the filthy army of Orcs to get to Mordor. You and Sauron did not exchange a single word during this trip. Almárea was riding with you on your horse for half of the day and then she would go to ride with her father. You made no stops on your way, so after arriving in Mordor, you and your daughter were exhausted.

The land was dark and barren, full of fire and ashes. It looked like hell but you decided not to complain because you realised you were on thin ice already – Sauron did not treat you like his consort in any way. Apparently, you would be nothing but a mother to his child from now on. Any sign of disobedience could be punished with exile and that was the last thing you wanted. You needed to be close to your daughter.

He ordered the Orcs to build him a grand fortress but until then, you resided in a big mansion that had once belonged to a rich human family of The Southlands. You had an awful view of Mount Doom from there and the rooms were all beautifully decorated but also dusty and worn out.

Once again – you did not complain. You did not dare.

You followed Sauron to the chambers he had decided would be yours and Almárea’s. He was carrying her in his arms as she was half-asleep already. You watched him put her to bed and caress her head as you sat down on the chair next to the bed. You held her little hand and squeezed it lovingly, watching her drift off to the land of dreams. Those past few days had been difficult and exhausting for her.

Sauron straightened his back and looked down at you with a bit of contempt but also affection – mixed together, they made you feel deeply uncomfortable.

“Do you remember?” He asked, speaking his very first sentence to you in days.

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him, questioningly. Your husband extended his hand and touched your cheek with it.

At that moment, your vision got blurry and you felt yourself go back in time a few years to one, specific memory. One of the most beautiful days you had ever lived.

You were sitting by the river, in a field full of flowers. Almárea was about a year old and clumsily taking her first steps. You watched Annatar helping her and chuckling at her harmless but funny falls as she kept giggling and blabbering, excitedly. The sun was slowly setting and you felt at peace. You truly believed your whole life would be just like that.

When Sauron took his hand away from your face, you found yourself back in Mordor, stripped of any faith and any dignity.

“Why did you show me that?” You asked him, angrily, as your eyes filled with fresh tears.

“It was the only moment when I felt that I should, perhaps, abandon my old life and remain in Eregion as Annatar by your side forever,” he confessed.

“Perhaps you should have,” was all you answered, in a whisper nearly inaudible as you watched him walk away with tears streaming down your cheeks.

You had cried out so many of them recently that you were starting to feel hollow and empty.

Weeks passed, maybe months. You had lost track of time since all your days were the same. You were given quite a lot of freedom because Sauron was sure you would never leave his side as long as Almárea was there. You were allowed to walk around the mansion and even take walks although you did not crave them at all since Mordor was not the perfect place to spend time outside.

You were barely exchanging any words with your husband and you seemed to avoid each other. However, he was making sure you were not short on anything. Once in a while there was a package waiting for you on your bed. Inside it you would find gifts – books to read or new dresses. And yesterday you had found an embroidery set, which filled your heart with joy.

You missed embroidery and you even considered it quite thoughtful that he had remembered about it. So, you were sitting by the window and focusing on your craft, trying to recreate Mount Doom, which your daughter loved for some reason. You wanted to make her happy.

You were focused on your work when the doors opened loudly, making you misplace the needle and hurt yourself as you hissed and looked up at your husband.

“Where is Almárea?” He asked, looking around the room.

“Is she not with you? Are you not teaching her your craft of treachery and deception like every day?” You asked with a sigh, defeated.

Sauron rolled his eyes but decided not to comment on your remark.

“I told her to go back to her mother about two hours ago,” he informed you and your heart skipped a beat at that revelation.

“Why didn’t you walk her here yourself?” You asked.

“I had an important matter to attend to and it is not like she is a toddler, is it?” Sauron clenched his jaw but you spotted a glimpse of panic in his eyes. “Where is she?”

“How can I know?! I thought she was with you!” You stood up instantly and put your embroidery set down before rushing out of your chambers. “Almárea!” You called out. “Almárea!”

“Have you seen Lady Almárea?” Sauron asked one of the Orcs walking down the hall.

“N-no, my Lord Sauron,” the Orc shook his head and you watched your husband sit his throat just like that. Usually, you found this behaviour of his dreadful. But now you were too scared and worried for your daughter to care

You kept searching for her all over the mansion, calling out her name, leaving a pile of dead Orcs behind because none of them could answer Sauron about Almárea’s location.

“I think she must have gone outside,” you said after bumping into your husband in the corridor. You watched his eyes widen even further in terror and concern. You snorted at that. “What are you? Scared of losing your precious tool?” You asked him with contempt.

That only angered him further as he grabbed your arm and squeezed it so tightly that you were sure there was a bruise forming already.

“Do not ever say that again,” he drawled out through gritted teeth right into your face. “Do not speak of matters you have no idea of.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Despite everything between you two – it seemed like you shared a thread together and that was love for your daughter. And because you were a worried mother, you regretted inflicting any pain upon a worried father.

“Forgive me,” you whispered and he let go of your arm.

“Do you have any idea where she could go?” Sauron asked you and you shook your head before freezing as you realised.

“Mount Doom,” you whispered. “For some reason, she adores it,” you explained.

“We must not waste any moment then,” Sauron grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind him as you two ran out of the mansion.

The forsaken volcano was not very far away from your home but it still took you quite a while to get there. The air was poisonous around it, making you choke and tear up. You were no mortal, therefore you were in no danger, but it was still an inconvenience. 

“If anything happened to her, I shall be the one to kill you, whatever it takes!” You threatened your husband and he did not even say anything to this. He let go of your wrist and proceeded to climb up.

You followed him but in many places the ground was slippery and you needed his support. His hand would grab you each time you stumbled and pull you up.

Breathing heavily, both covered in dirt from the ashes, you stood there, petrified, seeing Almárea sitting by the edge of the volcano and staring at it spitting out fire. She seemed to be content with her position. You looked up at Sauron with terror in your eyes and he left you behind to approach your daughter with extended hands.

“Almárea, what are you doing here? Have you not been told to never go outside without me or your mother?” Sauron asked, carefully.

“Ugh, daddy, I know, I am sorry. I was just so curious about this mountain and guess what? It is even better than I have imagined,” she confessed with a smile. “Do you know what it reminds me of?”

“What, Almárea?” He asked, taking a few more small steps closer to her.

“A forge,” she answered. “I miss uncle Celebrimbor’s one and this place makes me feel as if I was back there. Oh, daddy, can you imagine all the beautiful things we could craft here?” She asked with a smile.

Sauron froze for a moment as you watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He looked around as if he had just realised something brilliant.

“Yes, I can, my darling. And we will,” he assured her. “But please, come to me and mummy now, will you?” He extended his hand even further and she nodded, eagerly.

You both gasped watching her stand up because one little wrong move could cause her to fall down the volcano. She, however, seemed to be oblivious. She skipped along towards her father and Sauron picked her up in an instant, squeezing her tight and caressing the back of her head.

Your heart swelled inside your chest at the realisation that he truly cared for her and truly loved her  – even if it was not enough to save her from making her play a part in his schemes.

“Can we go back home, please?” You pleaded and it was the very first time you called that awful place your home.

Sauron nodded at you and you began your walk down the mountain. You were still shaking slightly and holding onto his sleeve to make sure you would not fall. Just like in the old days, he was bringing you comfort and safety – he was making you feel protected even if it was only being protected from a fall.

When you reached your mansion, Sauron took Almárea to the chambers she shared with you. Her skin and robes were dirty with mud and ashes, therefore you prepared her a bath and helped her to undress and get inside the bathtub.

“Call for me if you need anything,” you told her as you placed a new dress on the chair for her to dress herself into after the bath. “Be careful, my darling,” you smiled at her and left her alone in the bathroom, although you left the door ajar just in case.

Sauron was still inside your chambers and staring out of the window at Mount Doom. You sighed at the sight of his back turned on you and you decided to approach him softly.

Your hands acted before you allowed them to and they placed themselves on his arm softly. Your body ached for him and his presence; it was too used to his touch.

He flinched a little and turned his head around to look down at you with a puzzled expression.

“I miss you,” you confessed. “I miss being close to you,” you added.

“You miss Annatar, not me,” he shrugged his arms and looked out of the window again.

“Was Annatar not you? From the very beginning, my husband was Sauron. I only chose to be blind to see it,” you whispered and he looked back at you again, surprised to hear your words.

“Do I not repulse you?” He snorted.

“It does not change the fact I love you still,” you sighed and pressed your cheek to his arm. You both remained dirty from the ashes but you did not mind that all because today’s shared experience of fear and concern for your daughter had brought you two close together once more.

“Your love differs from mine,” he pointed out, a little harshly.

“It has not escaped me,” you let out a chuckle and nuzzled your face deeper into his sleeve. “But it is alright that we love differently. I do not want to be your Queen, I do not want you to share your power with me. All I want is to–”

“Have a family with me,” Sauron finished the sentence softly and you looked up at him, gently. It was the very first time in a long time when your eyes filled with affection for him again. “I was never keen on the idea of having offspring,” he admitted. “But then you made me realise what a blessing children might be,” he cracked a smile and raised his hand to caress your cheek. “I was terrified of my potential child stealing my powers and overthrowing me but Almárea… Her powers and her mind terrify me in the most exquisite way. Do you know why she is so perfect?” He asked and you shook your head. “Because she is half you. She is half light and half darkness. The perfect balance and what else could possibly heal Middle-earth?”

You hated yourself but you found yourself falling for his beautiful words once again. You could never be sure after everything that had happened if his sweet nothings, promises and love declarations were ever genuine. Perhaps, you would forever wonder about it. But despite all of that, the dreadful memories of Eregion’s downfall and his behaviour then were becoming blurry with time and you were ready to move on; to start another chapter with him.

And, as usual, you had an excuse for your husband, too. He had been nervous then. Of course he had been the worst version of himself. But it did not mean he would always be like this. Right now he was not.

“Come here, my love,” Sauron pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, how I have missed you, too, my darling. And even though it brought me great pain, I knew I had to wait for you to come to me out of your own free will.”

“Here I stand,” you whispered and a single tear streamed down your cheek.

“Almárea asked me about us,” Sauron put his hands on your arms and moved away slightly to be able to look at your face. “She wonders if we still love each other. I told her it was complicated.”

“I told her the very same thing,” you smiled sadly.

“But it is not, is it?” He raised an eyebrow and you shook your head, laughing nervously through your tears.

“No,” you admitted. “It is not.”

“It is true that I had my reasons to choose you out of all Elven maidens. And it is true that I was scared of having a son with you because I thought that the chances of a son overthrowing me would be higher,” he admitted and you furrowed your brows. “But you have become the most dear to me, the most precious,” he confessed and turned you around, making you look at Mount Doom as his hands lowered themselves to your abdomen.

You knew what he was about to do. You flinched at first, torn on the inside if it was truly what you wanted. Last time you had been deceived but now you would willingly allow it, despite knowing the true nature of the man who was your husband.

You looked down at his hands resting on your womb. He was still wearing a golden ring on his finger that you had put there on the day of your wedding. And you were still wearing yours because you still loved him despite hating yourself for it. You still wanted to be around him as if he was something addictive that you could not live without. And your womb was still open for more of his offspring.

You relaxed and when he sensed your consent, you could feel the warmth radiating off of his hands and filling you up, forming a new life inside of you.

You put your hands on top of his and squeezed them for courage.

“A son,” he whispered into your ear with lots of satisfaction and excitement.

“Another tool for you to use,” you pointed out.

“Another child for you to love and spoil,” Sauron brushed your hair strand and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Another thread of love binding us together.”

“Mummy? Daddy?” Almárea’s voice made you both turn around. She walked out of the bathroom in her new dress and kept looking at you two with a big grin. “Does it mean you are in love again?” She asked, full of hope.

“Oh, my darling, we have never stopped being in love,” you assured her and opened your arms to allow her to give you a hug. You did not want her to know all the details about the nature of your relationship with her father. She had already seen and witnessed way too much.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tight, which only made her smile grow even wider as she looked up.

“I am going to have a sibling!” She exclaimed, happily, after sensing the new life inside of you.

“You are going to have many,” Sauron spoke as he reached his hand out to caress her hair. “And each of you will get their own kingdom to rule over in my name and their own Ring,” he shared his new plan as a shiver went down your spine. “And all Middle-earth will be healed at once for your mother’s light and my darkness combine like two precious metals; balancing and amplifying everything I could ever be on my own.”

“But… But you will still rule over us all, right, daddy?” Almárea asked hopefully, as if she was already scared of the responsibility that one day would be put upon her shoulders.

“Oh, of course, little one,” Sauron smiled lovingly at her. “I shall always bear the biggest burden of power for that is a father’s one to carry.”

He loved her – of that you were sure now. But no amount of his love could protect her from his schemes and his manipulations. Therefore, he had to love you as well and no amount of cruelty he had put you through contradicted it.

That was the way Sauron loved. It was a cursed devotion but also a blessed one.

MASTERLIST

[charliedawn]

Their last words to you:

Sandor Clegane:

You had been ambushed and attacked by a bunch of thieves. Sandor had had no choice but to fight back and try to kill all of them—but he had suffered through numerous stabbing wounds and at the end, he knew he wasn’t gonna make it. He fell to the ground as you screamed and cried out his name. You tried to stop the blood from flowing, but you couldn’t. He had too many injuries and you could only sob as you desperately tried to find a solution.

But…

Sandor lifted a hand to your cheek and his eyes met yours. You both knew that he wouldn’t last much longer and there was so many things he had to say and that he wouldn’t have the time to say. So many things he had hoped he would get to do and experience with you. And now, he felt that tell-tale pang in his chest.

He could almost laugh at the irony. For so long, he had laughed at the face of death and taunted it to come get him. But now, he was willing to pray for just another day with you.

He swallowed with difficulty before speaking up—his voice low and shaky.

"…You are…everything I never deserved. Everything I never thought I’d ever find in this fucked up world. And fuck…You made me want to live, Y/N. But now…I have no choice but to ask you. Please. Please, Y/N. Do not let me suffer. I hate pain. So, you gonna have to cut our goodbyes short—yeah ?"

You shook your head at first. No. No. You wouldn’t do it. You refused to do it. There had to be another way. A way to save him. Anything.

"Y/N. I need ya. I need ya. Please." He insisted and you sobbed harder. No. You didn’t want to say goodbye to Sandor. But when he stared at you with pleading eyes and blood stained your hands…you knew that there was nothing to be done. You sighed and took out your knife. You pressed your forehead against his.

"…See you soon, Sandor."

You then kissed his forehead before stabbing him in the heart.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger):

"Y/N…" He started and you looked up to meet his gaze. "I warned you when we first met. Falling in love with me would be a mistake, that I would only end up disappointing you."

His eyes were empty. Gone was the arrogant and manipulative little weasel you had grown to love and respect. Only Petyr remained now. He looked at you without actually seeing you. He seemed so pitiful now…Had he always been that way inside ? Lost and empty and miserable ? Had you really fallen for that man ?

"I never regretted choosing you, Petyr." You still replied and a small smile graced his features—sad and pitiful.

"Petyr…" You whispered. "Is this…Is this really goodbye ?"

He took a shuddering breath and addressed you a saddened smile.

"I am afraid so, sweetheart."

Sweetheart…That name. That affectionate little name which made your heart happy and your mind content. He was trying to tell you something. Petyr Baelish had never told that he loved you. He had never been able to get through that obstacle as long as you had known him.

But that little sweetheart had still managed to wrap you around his little finger.

He had you eating out of the palm of his hand.

And now, you were sitting across from him. It was almost time for the execution. You didn’t look each other in the eyes. You knew you should be afraid, but you weren’t. You knew it didn’t matter anymore.

Too late to change fate now.

A guard came.

"Lord Petyr Baelish. Lady Y/N Baelish. It is time."

You both looked at the guard before looking at each other. Petyr stood up and offered you his hand.

"…Shall we, my Lady wife ?"

You looked at his outstretched hand and smiled before taking it.

"Lead the way, my Lord husband."

Even after the execution…rumours has it that you and Petyr’s hands stayed firmly locked together—united until death and beyond.

Oberyn Martell:

"Come on, little flower. We had our fun, didn’t we ?"

When Oberyn said those words, you knew. You knew that this was the end. He had grown bored of you. It was to be expected of course, but it still hurt. You forced yourself to smile.

"Very well. I hope we can still remain friends, my Prince ?" You asked—hopeful. His friendship was dear to you and you so loved his company. If he thought that he didn’t desire your body anymore, but you still wanted to enjoy his company and hear his wonderful poetry…

He smiled—but it seemed so fake.

"Of course, my little flower. I would like that."

Liar.

The word echoed in his own head. He was a liar. Being your friend was far from what he wanted. He wanted your brain, your heart and your beautiful soul to belong to him and for it to remain so until you both grew old and withered.

But…he had to protect you.

He knew he would be fighting the Mountain soon. Ellaria was strong enough to withstand his possible defeat and death. But, you ? You were such a lovely and delicate little flower. If he was to disappear and break your heart upon his death, then you would certainly lose your mind. Oberyn loved you enough to realise that the best was to break your heart instead of your mind. He hence decided to prepare you for the perspective that he may not survive.

He saw you turn around to leave and he lifted a hand towards your retreating form. He opened his mouth to speak up, but reconsidered and lowered his arm. It was…better this way. And if he was to win the fight ? Then, he would explain everything to you and you would laugh it off together…

A few days later, he faced Ser Gregor Clegane.

He managed to stay on top for most of the fight and both you and Ellaria were happy to see Oberyn finally get revenge for Elia and her children.

But then…Oberyn’s eyes met yours.

He smiled at you and before you knew it, Ser Gregor had cut off his head. You felt your heart stop in your chest. Unlike Ellaria, you didn’t scream—not a sound managed its way past your lips at that moment. You just stared as your ex-lover’s head rolled down his shoulders and kept rolling until it stopped a few feet away from you. He was still smiling. That smile. That lovely and sweet and warm smile that made you feel as if everything would be alright…

You then wordlessly got out a crossbow you had been hiding and aimed at Gregor’s head before unhesitatingly shooting. The arrow went straight through his skull and the giant dropped dead on the sand right next to Oberyn’s body. Before anyone could stop you, you then picked up Oberyn’s head and cradled it in your arms before walking away.

No one dared to stop you.

Tyrion Lannister:

When Tyrion had asked to meet with you in the Red Keep’s gardens…you had been so excited—happy to see him again after all those days of absence working for Daenerys. You had prepared yourself to welcome him with a warm embrace and a long dialogue under the shades of trees. But…you would have never expected his first words to you after such a long time apart to be the following:

"It is best we keep it at that."

Your eyes widened as you heard Tyrion reject you. You were stunned for a moment. Then, you laughed. You thought it was a joke. But, he didn’t laugh—he didn’t even smile at you. Your amusement immediately vanished. You couldn’t understand why he would say something like that. Had you done something wrong ? What was going on ? He couldn’t…He wouldn’t possibly…But you looked him in the eyes and you gasped as you realised that he was serious. It was over. He was ending it. After everything you had been through, after everything…He was just ending it all.

"I am sorry." He added and your eyes watered.

"No. No. Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that." You seethed and felt bile rise up in your throat. You should have expected it, but you surprised yourself by being genuinely shocked by his sudden decision to set you aside.

"Y/N. Please…" He started before you interrupted him.

"I LOVE YOU !"

His mouth remained opened in shock by your words and you hoped that he would believe you and realise the humongous mistake he was making—but his answer was ten times worse than if he had just rejected you.

"…Yes. I know." He confessed before looking at you apologetically. "I am sorry. Goodbye, Y/N."

And with that, he turned away and walked away. Once he was out of sight, you dropped to the ground—hot tears running down your cheeks. Why ? You didn’t understand. Why did you have to fall in love with that man ? That absolutely brilliant, but cruel man. You thought he would be different, that he wouldn’t leave you, that he would be your forever and you would be his…

How wrong you were…

Sansa Stark:

Sansa doesn’t know when it happened exactly. The moment she had fallen in love with you. Perhaps at the very beginning. Before she had learnt about the hardships of life and womanhood. You had grown up together and she knew that you were the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. You were the person she had begged her father to betroth her to. And you were the one willing to go far and wide to make her happy. When you were both together, only smiles remained on both of your faces.

But then…She had attracted King Joffrey’s attention and from that moment on, everything had changed for the worse. She had had to watch her father be executed and many people of their closed entourage.

But, not you. No. Joffrey had had much better planned for you. He had dragged you through King’s Landing—your wrists bound to his horse as you were forced to follow as rotten vegetables were thrown your way. You were then brought to a pile of wood and attached to a wooden pole—for all to witness. Joffrey had then set fire to the pile of wood you were standing on and as you were about to burn into ashes, your eyes sought out the ones of your beloved in the assembly.

When your eyes met hers, the only thought that crossed your mind was that you weren’t going to make it and that you wanted to see her beautiful smile one last time. You smiled at her through your tears and Sansa understood. She forced herself to smile back—even though all she wanted was to break down in tears and scream for the mercy she knew you would never receive from the Lannisters.

You were embraced by the flames right in front of her eyes.

From that very moment, all her smiles were cold and grim—without the person she had decided to share her heart with. Joffrey had asked her many times to smile at him the way she had smiled at her traitor of a fiancé/e. But, she was never capable of repeating it ever again. You were gone—the source of all her happiness and hopes—and she had no reason to smile anymore.

Or she would, once this whole place burnt to the ground.

Brienne of Tarth:

"Please. Stay. Do not leave me." Brienne begged you as she looked into your eyes. She was scared and horrified by the thought of losing you. You had been bitten by one of the white walkers and you could feel the blood slowly freeze up in your veins. You knew you were dying and you looked at Brienne with cold tears running down your cheeks.

"…I am sorry, Brienne. But I won’t be able to obey your command." You smiled sadly at her and she sobbed—her eyes holding all the sorrows of this world. You had been the only one to support her in her journey as a knight and even offer to be her esquire when none would agree to serve a female knight. But you had believed in her and learnt to love her. She held you closer and cried against your chest as you started stroking her hair soothingly.

"Live, Brienne. Live for me." You whispered to her.

It was too late for you. But, you wanted her to keep fighting until the very end. Your eyes then looked up to see Jaime standing behind her. He had a sorrowful expression on and you smiled at him before addressing him one command.

"Protect…each other."

You then closed your eyes and managed to stay long enough to hear Jaime answer you that he would. You smiled as life left your body. You wouldn’t be there to help or support her, but you were certain that Brienne would fight her hardest till the end—because that was who she was. Before your last breath, you felt warm lips meet your freezing ones. You knew whose they were. You tried to reciprocate the kiss, but darkness overwhelmed you and you knew that this was the end…

‘Goodbye, my love.’ You thought before all disappeared and you took your final breath in the arms of your beloved.

Jaime Lannister:

Jaime had just returned victorious from a battle and had rode faster than the wind to return to King’s Landing and tell you all about it. Only for his smile to drop as he finally reached the castle to see a funeral procession making its way towards the sea. He got off his horse and asked a nearby old woman who they had died. The old woman turned towards him with tearful eyes.

"Alas—my young Prince. Today is a sad day indeed. For we bury our dearest Lady/Lord Y/N."

Jaime was stunned and he couldn’t move for a few seconds. The old woman followed the procession and Jaime looked at them go—his eyes having lost their enthusiastic spark. He had waited and prayed to go home to see you again. He wanted to laugh with you and tell you all about his strange encounters and how he had managed to lead the army to glorious victory. He looked as your carefully wrapped body was carried through the streets of King’s Landing towards the water and laid down gently on a bed of flowers in a large wooden boat.

Jaime had followed as you were mourned by all of King’s Landing. You had been born a commoner, but had succeeded in becoming a valued member of Cersei’s court. He had met you at your beginnings as a member of the High Council. You had studied hard and supported all mocking jeers and taunts surrounding you to help your people. And now, they were the ones who were to see you go and bide you farewell.

He stared as your pretty little boat floated away.

His jaw twitched and he restrained tears as he saw the only person he had ever loved beside Cersei disappearing in the distance. He was the last one to leave the port and as people walked by to their homes around him—he heard multiple echoes of what had actually happened. You had died—killed by Cersei. She had waited until he was gone before sending the Mountain to kill you. And you had suffered. Days and days of tortured and screaming and tears left unheard which the entire of King’s Landing had been unaware of…And you had had to face your last moments alone and scared and in pain.

He didn’t even try to defend Cersei.

He knew she was capable of it. But what he didn’t understand was…why ?

And then, he returned to the castle and found Cersei in her room—arranging her hair. She looked completely unbothered and smiled as she saw Jaime’s reflection in her mirror.

"Jaime. You are back." She then dared to smile at him—as if she didn’t know. But, she knew. She knew. He knew she knew. His eyes were red-rimmed and he asked with a broken voice:

"Why ?"

Cersei didn’t even attempt to pretend that she didn’t know what he was referring to. She only kept a smile on and replied simply:

"Because they annoyed me. That’s why."

His eyes widened at his sister’s monstrous words…He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.

Jon Snow:

Jon died and was reborn by the red witch.

But you ? They had killed you. You hadn’t been deemed important enough to be brought back to life and your body had been in such a pitiful state that even if he was to ask the red witch to bring you back—there wouldn’t be anything for your soul to return into. Jon had to wake up to the cruel realisation that he wouldn’t get to see you ever again.

You had stood by him. Until the very end.

You had both tried to fight off the rogue night watchers who had decided to get rid of Jon. You had fought valiantly with your sword withdrawn and blood spilling from both you and the other guards. You had fought like a lion. Refusing to back down and let them kill him.

You and him knew it was a lost battle.

But as he had felt his brothers’ daggers pierce him from all directions—all he could see was you. You had screamed as you were held down and forced to watch as he was robbed of his life first. Jon could have forgiven them for that. For killing him. But you ? The fact that they had forced you to watch before slashing your throat and feeding your body to the hounds…

That. He could never forgive.

It was your sword he used to cut the rope and hang all the traitors in one instant. They all squirmed and thrashed as they desperately tried to survive. Some even looked at Jon with pleading eyes—but found no mercy in his eyes. Once the last one had stopped moving, he took a deep breath and looked up at the dark and cloudy sky.

Daenerys:

"Please. Forgive me, my love." You whispered—tears rolling down your cheeks as you were forced to watch the woman you loved slowly die by your own hand. You had been by her side from the very beginning. You had fought alongside her to achieve her slow and glorious ascent to the top. You had watched and smiled as she had burnt down King’s Landing to the ground. You had hoped that this would finally be the end of the suffering and misery.

But…

You had then seen the people who had died. People who didn’t deserve it. People who had tried to protect and soothe their crying children as they were burnt alive and whose statues of ashes would remain forever interlocked. You brought a hand to your face at the stench of death and burning flesh. Then, you looked up at her. At your queen. Your khaleesi. Your heart. She was looking at the carnage with such intensity and satisfaction that it sent a shiver down your spine.

No…

You couldn’t. You couldn’t let her rule over Westeros—no matter how much your heart ached at the thought and how long you had fought for her to get there. You knew Ser Jorah would be disappointed in you and that all the people who had died to get her where she was would be cursing your name from their resting place for all of eternity…but not as loud as your own voice as you plunged that dagger into her heart.

The surprise in her eyes was the worst part. That…genuine shock. As if she really hadn’t expected it. You kissed her forehead. Oh…How you loved her. You loved her so much. But, even though your heart was shattered and your tears were true, you couldn’t let the world suffer through another Cersei—or worse. You simply couldn’t. And you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for not seeing earlier what or who she was becoming and the pain it would cause you both. You hated yourself for not being able to protect her, or for not having the same blinding love than Ser Jorah had for her. Your eyes saw. And what they had seen was a world of ashes that she would rule over. And then, Littlefinger’s words came back to you.

"Chaos is a ladder…"

How right he was…but love was as much a ladder. And one who rarely led you up or where you wanted to be.

Ser Jorah:

During the final battle, just as sunrise painted the sky with touches of warm colours, you found yourself still standing. Your eyes met with Ser Jorah’s and you smiled at each other. You were alive. You walked forward to join him when your eyes caught sight of a white walker running towards him. You had but a few seconds to act. You ran forward to push Ser Jorah out of the way and got impaled by the spear instead. Ser Jorah’s eyes widened in shock and he gritted his teeth before cutting the white walker’s head off and catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground.

"No. My Lady/My Lord." He whispered sorrowfully and stroked your cheek—tears gathering in his eyes. He looked at your wound and the blood dripping down your chin.

But, you chuckled.

"Come on, Ser Jorah. Won’t you call me by my name ? There will never be another chance for me to hear it from your lips."

He wanted to deny your words and tell you that you were going to be alright. But, that would have been a lie. He gripped your hand and pressed his forehead against yours before asking—his heart hammering in his chest at the realisation that you had sacrificed yourself for him. Him who had never done anything to deserve it. Him who had rejected you time and time again. Him who had never been able to return the love you seemed to harbour towards him within your heart…

"Y/N. Why ?" He finally asked and you smiled up tenderly at him.

"You protected me." You replied with nothing but adoration in your eyes. "You respected me. I know your heart and eyes belong to Daenerys, but you stole mine—Ser Jorah. You made me happy. You always did what you thought was right and offered me someone to care about. And so, you swore to serve Daenerys. Unaware that I—myself—had made an oath of my own. To protect…you." You whispered as your eyes slowly closed in his arms—the place you cherished most. You nestled your face against him. Just for a moment, you would bask in his warmth…Ser Jorah had never pretended to love you or lied to you about his feelings towards the queen of dragons. But…you didn’t even resent him for it. He had offered you friendship and affection beyond anyone you had ever came across…If you were to die for someone—then you were fine with it being him.

You looked up and smiled before lifting your lips to his. If he was to be so kind as to grant a dying soul one last wish…He seemed to hesitate for a second before planting his lips against yours. And then, Ser Jorah felt a cruel warmth ignite within his very being. His eyes fluttered shut and he brought you closer…taking your first kiss and last breath in one instant…

Your eyes stayed closed and your arms dropped to the ground.

Ser Jorah opened his eyes and his heart clenched as he glanced down at the person who he had failed to protect and his sorrow only grew as he realised that he had also failed himself. For in your last breath, he had found something that he had denied you all this time, and his tears only turned even more bitter at the terrible reality that he could have had you. That he had you and your love. And had lost both because of his own blindness…

"Forgive me…my dear Lady/Lord Y/N."

[delicatedarknight]

Bruce: ok kids I'm going out on a date with Clark. behave yourself

[few seconds after Bruce left]

Jason: from today on I'm the king of this city. Bow down to me peasants

Tim: bow down huh? Come here let me bow down your head backwards

Jason: you dare to talk back to me, you imbecile. Our fight shall be worthy

Tim: let's meet in the ring, peasant

Damian: On one side we have our penny worth king and on the other hand we have a dime worth peasant. The fight shall begin

Jason: here you go peasant have this +2

Tim[smirking]: bow down to me. *Throws a +4*

Jason[grinning]: huh bow? To you huh? Now suffer

*throws 2 +4*

Tim[pulls out Jason's order history]: checkmate

Jason[laughing maniacally]: any last words? *Pulls out Tim/kon cute pics together*

[loud gasps audio]

Dick[in batman's cape]: order order silence in the court

Jason: your honor this villain has stolen my rightful place as the king.

Tim: objection you honor. It's all a lie. I'm the rightful king. I even have witness with me

Dick: present the witness

Damian[in specs]: your honor I'm Detective Wayne I would say they both are liars. *Removes the specs* it's I, I am the actual king, my lord

Bruce: no your honor, it's me. I'm the real king.

[loud gasps]

Dick[sweating]: haha the court declares Bruce as the king and is now adjourned.

Jason[silently walking away]: yea yea he is the kin-

Bruce[catching Jason]: now as the king, I shall hand over the decree

[collective tsks from kids]

Bruce: my dear subjects, from today on each Friday shall be 'Who dressed up as the best meme' war. The winner shall be awarded adequately.

Damian: it's not like we lack anything father

Bruce: the winner shall be awarded with Batman's affection

[collective screaming]

Jason: this time I shall win

Damian: dream on

Clark[outside window]: can I also participate?

[collective boos]

[eraenaa]

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises. 

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given. 

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons. 

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint. 

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips. 

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions. 

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh. 

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first. 

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance. 

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense. 

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms. 

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought.  “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him. 

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger. 

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip. 

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it. 

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing. 

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs. 

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure. 

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped. 

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written. 

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently 

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well. 

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions. 

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.  

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours. 

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye. 

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name. 

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly. 

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[ch3rryjampi3]

In the next life.

Bakugou x fem! Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stood infront of him, the gush of wind gently swaying both of your hairs, you stared at him with tears in your eyes while he stared at you in adoration. "Hey sweets, ya missed me?"

You immediately ran up to him, his arms welcoming your embrace as you cried, weakly punching his chest. "You jerk!! How dare you leave me!!" He chuckled, gently pushing your face from his chest. "Sorry sweetheart. Didn't want ya to die first, ya know I can't leave without you."

"I also can't live without you! I have to suffer 3 years without you 'Suki..." He cups your face gently caressing his thumb on it. " 'm sorry sweets.... But hey, you're here now aren't ya? I've waited 3 years for you to come here."

He pulled away from you and offered his hand. "Shall we go?" You looked at him with a smile on your face then suddenly you frowned. "Would Katsumi and Katsuko be okay?" Katsuki smiled "Of course they would be, sweets. They're all grown up and would understand that we'll both not live forever. They took care of us like how we did to them until we passed. Plus, they have a family now to look after."

You smiled again, finally taking his hand in yours as you both ran through the field, going to your next life and hopefully you both are still together like how you both are in your previous lives.

──────────────────

Reblogs are appreciated!!<3

[thebadboyfanclub]

This Is What You Deserve (Daemon x Reader)

Look man you don't choose when the smut will come to you, it just does. This was requested by anon and @ladystrongofharrenhall which I feel the need to apologise cause it like barely is what you requested, if you feel like you don’t like it please let me know and we can figure out something else for me to write for you.

“The dowager lady of Harrenhall, (y/n) Strong with her son and heir Arryan Strong”

The man introduced the lady dressed in all black that stood before the iron throne with a toddler holding her hand that was dressed in deep blue, a spitting image of his father, soft curls fell directly on his face and eyes that had stolen the color right out of the deep sea.

The lady bowed before the king that had invited her to court after the incident that had occurred in Harrenhall, within the night she had lost her husband and good father, both of them gave their lives to save her and her son, now she was in kings landing for the first time since her wedding.

“My king, it is very thoughtful of you to invite me to your court”

“Nonsense, your husband was one of the most trusted men within the gold cloaks and his father was a good friend of mine, last time I saw you you were dressed in all white”

“A lot has changed since then I am afraid”

“Indeed, I grief for the loss you have suffered, I summoned you to offer you a place in my court, under my protection, your born family has been an ally since the beginning, your son will be my cupbearer and will receive the same education as every noble boy and you can live within the castle as the queens' companion”

“Your honor me, your grace, it gladdens my heart that you thought of us amongst the countless matters that demand the kings' attention”

(Y/n) had learned from a very young age that a lady was to act a certain way, she had just lost the earth from underneath her feet, left with a son in her arms and a scandal on her back that she had to shield him from, she could feel every pair of eyes on her back, all of them like crows that waited for a sign of weakness, she would not give them that satisfaction, not today, not ever.

“The servants will lead you to your chamber, I believe your travel is quite long”

“Indeed, thank you, my king”

“My king”

Sweet Arryans voice was heard as he bowed in unison with his mother, a boy of 4 years of age, he was (y/n)s sun and moon, anything and everything she did she did it to make sure his future is secured and his present time is as happy as it could be amongst the chaos.

-

“My boy”

“Mother!”

Little Arryan ran to his mother and hugged her as tightly as his little arms could although he could not completely wrap them around (y/n)s hips since this was the height that he was.

(Y/n) scooped up her son to check for any injuries or some type of harm, (y/n) had attempted to stay calm and calculated in front of the court, however, imagine her surprise when she left her little boy with Baela and Rhaena to play together and when she came back Baela told her that their father Daemon had taken Arryan up on Caraxes.

“You looked tiny from up there”

“I did, didn’t I? Let’s go inside now”

“You are welcome, I am sure that was a moment the child will never forget”

(Y/n) was fuming, Daemon had approached her a few morrows ago to offer his condolences, being a widower himself he could indenting the struggle and pressure she was under, at the time she faintly smiled and curtsied to thank him.

Now (y/n)s eyes threw a dagger and her lips were a thin line, how dare he so arrogantly demand a thank you for putting her child in danger? Arryan wasn't a Targaryen, nor was he a kin to Daemon, the possibility of Caraxes to harm the child was huge.

“Baela, take Arryan inside, I shall be with you in a moment”

Her voice grew cold, and the surroundings were resembling of a cloud closing in and overshadowing the sun, like a warning of a strong that gathered around Daemon's head who seemed clueless of the warning signs that he is daughters picked up so easily that got them almost running away from themselves

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who gave you the authority to take my son up on that beast with you?”

“You should feel flattered, he is one of the few people that get to say that they have gone up on a dragon”

“I know that your family likes to frown down upon us from your mighty dragons but listen to me well, my son is the future lord of Harrenhall and the carries my born name of Featherdall, we were the biggest army Aegon the conqueror had on his side when he took over the seven kingdoms, so the next time you even think of coming around me and my son with your high and mighty attitude I would advise you to think how well would it go for you if you angered the house that put you up on that throne, got it?”

Daemon was stunned, he just stared at the lady that stood before him with her breath heavy and audible enough for everyone to feel her fury, she wasn’t a dragon but Daemon swore he could see fire in her hues, no one had dared to speak to the rogue prince this way, still there she was, commanding him and keeping her head up high, not an ounce of doubt or fear in sight.

“Yes, my lady”

“That’s what I thought”

-

“Alright my love, let me tuck you in”

“Momma, can I go up to the dragon again?”

“I am not sure sweetling, the prince is a busy man”

“But he said he will find time whenever I want”

“Did you like the dragon that much?”

“Uh-huh, you said Papa is up in the sky, I wanted for him to see me better”

(Y/n) was speechless, tears welling up in her eyes at the doting explanation her son had given her, she could detect the joy the little boy had experienced that day, she had not seen him this happy since Harwin was alive.

“Go to bed now, I will ask Prince Daemon on the morrow”

“Thank you, momma, goodnight”

“Goodnight my love”

Regret took over her body and soul like poison, she lost composure and talked back to a royal, she did not even take a minute to think of how did Arryan end up on the dragon, (y/n) had switched to defense mode the moment she saw the humongous animal land and did not care of anything else besides that her child could have been harmed.

Daemon could not find sleep, he tossed and turned for hours but his mind was occupied with playing (y/n)s speech over again instead of leaving him to rest, she was fuming however there was something in the way she looked at him, at the trembling tone of her voice that Daemon could empathize with… grief.

It was almost like the Gods had orchestrated it, leaving them restless and wandering in the gardens with the encounter that had a sour taste in their mouths.

Daemon was the one that noticed her figure sitting down on the bench, a silk cape covering her as her hair was down instead of a tight undo like it was in the morning, he chose to remain silent as he approached slowly and sat next to her, (y/n) did not turn to look at the prince, something told her exactly whom it was.

“I am sorry, I should have not talked to you that way, it was entirely inappropriate”

“You were defending your child, I should have asked permission to take him with me. I understand why you lost your temper”

“Sometimes I dream of putting him in a bubble, to keep him from… harm”

Her voice cracked once more, at that little word so many emotions were hidden, love, fear, anger, confusion, Daemon looked at her side profile while the moonlight caressed her cheeks, the difference of expression between the lady he met in daylight was tremendous, she had lived every day in agony but painted a smile for her son, now he could see the true cracks.

“Why did you come back to kings Landing? Harrenhal might have been better?”

“The king summoned us, Harwin and I had never presented our son to the court, now I had to make sure he was established as the future lord of the house strong”

“Did you love him? Harwin”

“Deeply, he treated me with kindness and respect”

“I don’t know how much respect did he show to your wedlock, especially with all the whispers that surrounded his name”

“Harwin was a wonderful man, I lost three children before we had Arryan, my father told him that he would understand if Harwin wished to leave our marriage, still he stood by me and loved me”

“Is that what love is to you? A man sticking at your side while he has other children”

“I will not let you taint my dead husbands' name, I have already apologized why are you trying to get me riled up again?”

“I’m not”

(Y/n) scoffed at Daemon's protest and got up so she can get some distance from him, her back was now facing him and Daemon realized he was pressing down on a wound that was still tender, it was not his place to question their marriage since he has two on his back.

“I just, you are a young lady you certainly deserve more than the bare minimum?”

“Bare minimum? Are you even aware of what most women have to put up with when it comes to their husbands? Beatings, embarrassment, constant pregnancies, bastards, public belittling, Harwin treated me with care, he was sweet and offered me much more than any woman could ever wish for”

“He fucked Rhaenyra”

The harsh slap against Daemon's cheek was heard loudly around the garden, even (y/n) was taken back by her action, she did not understand why he kept pressuring her, like a knife that he had stabbed her with and now he kept twisting it around, Harwin was nowhere near perfect but there was a level of understanding between them, he kept her away from the dramatics and carefree enough, why was Daemon kept nitpicking at her?

Daemon's eyes grew wide, it stung but it did not hurt him, was most shocking, they both gawked at one another waiting for someone to do or say something, maybe it was (y/n)s sudden rush of emotion that compelled him to do the same or just him being compulsive, whatever it was that took over it was strong enough to push her against the nearest wall and plant the most passionate kiss (y/n) had ever experienced, at first she froze still the heat that radiated from his hands as they roamed her body and the strength his kiss held sweetened the moment and she closed her eyes, in a way one would say she surrendered.

“This is what you deserve”

Daemon growled as the kisses went down from her lips to the nape of her neck, Harwin was a sweet lover, his touch was soft, and (y/n) was taken care of, however (y/n) could see that it lacked in passion, he did not yearn for her, it was just another way to show her that he loved her.

“We could get caught”

“Not if you are quiet”

That would have been a piece of wonderful advice had he not made it so difficult by thrusting intensely, she whimpered from pleasure while her nails dug deep into his skin and drew blood, she even bit her lip to the point of bleeding to prevent herself from letting the whole keep know how much she was enjoying this, she had never felt what it was like to be craved, wanted, needed even, Harwin loved her still his body did not weaken at the sight of her nakedness nor did his hues darkened during their sacred bedding.

Daemon's eyes were as dark as the deep waters of the ocean, his grip on her waist was ironlike, and his body collided with hers while she hoisted up her leg to his waist for more access and comfortability, the match was resembling the concept of throwing fire to gasoline.

“Please Daemon”

“You sound so pretty when you beg”

Both of them were out of breath but kept pushing, their bodies acted like they knew each other for years, that this was a normal day for them, they instinctively were conscious of how the other liked to be touched, kissed, gazed upon, it was addicting, it was (y/n)s first time of feeling like the queen of the world and Daemons first time that he wanted to over-perform, to fill every need and tend to her every desire.

“Hush”

He shushed her when a yield escaped her lips as she reached her end, he kissed her once more as she moaned in his mouth, his pace slowed and both of their bodies relaxed when they rode the pleasure at the very last wave of it.

“Do you now understand what I meant when I said that you were getting the bare minimum?”

Daemon whispered in her ear before he left a kiss on her cheek, her face glowing and wet from droplets.

“Yes”

“You are burning up”

(Y/n) was sweating profusely, although Daemon wanted to take a good look at her, to remember the moment that a faint smile decorated her lips as she grew tired but her body was relaxed as it was used to the very bit of its powers, Daemon softly blew some air at the side of her neck to cool her, though all it did was compel her body to grow goosebumps and shake.

“Stop, it tickles, you are no better either, you are a sweaty mess”

“The sweat of a champion, anyone that would even glance at you would see how content you are”

“And you are not? You are still inside of me”

“I must admit, it is like a nice warm hug”

(Y/n) pushed him off at the cheeky comparison making him giggle, she fixed her dress to hide most of the damage while Daemon pulled his trousers up and buttoned up the shirt with the few buttons that were left since (y/n) had ripped it open.

“We must go”

“I will collect Arryan on the morrow after I break my fast”

“And who told you you could do that?”

“No one, I assumed I get privileges when you were holding on to me for dear life whilst I-“

“Alright alright, I will see you on the morrow”

Requests are open!