#wine peak lady

[anachronismstellar]

SQH x Wine Peak lord

I would imagine SQH would teach the Wine Peak Lord modern drinking games and it goes from there. (IDK if it will go like the SVSSS extra if you know what I mean.)

HISHSDAUFHUSDHDF not only did SQH taught a modern drinking game, UNO is now canon in the SVSSS lol

AND FUCK YEA BODY SHOTS LET'S GO

A Peak Lady this time! :D Her lovely name was given by @busysavingtheuniverse, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy my wine aunty!!

Omg I'm so sorry it took me this long but *waves at the past weeks*

But to make it better this is ahahahah 13 pages long on my docs. :D

Why I am going a little insane ty for asking

BTW, this one has mild explicit content AND it has two adults getting reaaally drunk before having sex. Everything is consensual, but if that makes you icky, maybe skip this one

Now, on with the fic!

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The room was filled with the scent of incense and tobacco, the lights bright just enough to create an intimate atmosphere. Four people gathered around a low table, the clacking of ivory pieces mixed with their low voices.

And the wine, of course, flowing like a river, making laughter bubble free. They probably shouldn't drink so much, their week packed with meetings and trainings, but if their dear Mu Qingfang himself was indulging, who were they to say no to a bit of fun?

The stones were given to each player, some of them being exchanged back and forth, the match starting with their host setting down the first piece.

And as soon as the game began, so did the gossip.

"Has anyone heard from their disciples yet? Wei-shixiong?" Mu Qingfang asked as he poured wine for all of them while waiting for his turn in the game.

"Not me," he replied as he discarded his stone, cursing right after, trying to take it back, only to get a tap on the wrist by Qi Qingqi sitting on his right.

"Pong. Don't cheat." Qi Qingqi said as she moved her pieces at a speed that would leave anyone dizzy, already displaying a group of three identical stones, her eyes focused on the game, shoulders tense.

"I heard nothing from him as well," Mu Qingfang added along with his own discarded stone, moving way slower than his shijie on his left. "But I don't think he noticed the rumors yet."

"I don't wanna add to the fire," Zhang Qingyan started as she tapped her nails on her pieces, holding her pipe between her teeth to move her own blocks before continuing. "But I heard some An Ding disciples talking about Liu-shidi being the last victim."

"Really?" Mu Qingfang asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought he was scared of Liu-Shixiong?"

"Oh he is!" Wei Qingwei said a bit too excited for someone losing their third round or so. "But I heard that girl, what's her name? The An Ding Head Disciple? Qi-shimei, do you know who I am talking about?"

"Ye Ling."

"That's the one," Wei Qingwei threw another piece at the discarded pile, then sipped his drink. "She said Liu-shidi scared the soul out of Shang-shidi's body, and Shang-shidi grabbed him and threw Liu-shidi on the ground."

"And that would do it, wouldn’t it? Liu-shidi is so odd…" Zhang Qingyan took another smoke from her pipe, then offered it to Qi Qingqi, who just refused with a shake of her head. She had lost the three last matches, and that mixed up with how much wine they had already...

Zhang Qingyan moved a little bit to the side, just in case.

"Who is missing then?"

"Almost half of the peaks, I believe."

"Do you think he's gonna sleep with all the lords?"

"A bit difficult, I mean, Gao-shidi has eyes only for his talismans. And Qi-shijie-" Mu Qingfang said as he took the pipe Qi Qingqi rejected.

"I won't touch men, not even if there's no one else in the world," she said as she put down her stone, glaring at Wei Qingwei.

"Don't look at us like that." Wei Qingwei gave her a wink, laughing at her face of disgust. "You haven't got the full Shang Qinghua experience!"

"It baffles me how he got himself into the bed of so many." She pretended to move her pieces around, just like Zhang Qingyan pretended not to see her take a piece from the discarded pile without the others noticing. "I tried to ask him where he bought his ink, you know the shimmery one? I couldn't open my mouth before he ran away like a scared rabbit."

"And can you blame Shang-Shixiong?" Mu Qingfang chuckled as he put his stone down, a light brush on his cheeks even though he had just a few cups. "Qingqi-shijie talking to a man of her own will is not something common to see. He probably thought you're going to ask for his liver."

"Hunf! I didn't need anything from him anyway." She flipped her hair back, as if she hadn't just confessed wanting to ask Shang-Shixiong a question. "My girls were more than able to gather all the information I needed to buy the ink."

"What I find really intriguing is that so far it has been all peak lords and no lady," Zhang Qingyan said as she poured another cup for Qi Qingqi and then herself, sighing at the taste of plum and spice. "Is he even interested in women?"

"Zhang-shimei, not you too," Qingqiu shook her head in dismay. "You are not considering-"

"The boys keep talking nonstop about him. And as Mu-Shixiong doesn't tell me anything-"

"It's doctor and patient confidentiality!"

"-I'm curious, that's all."

The entire table got dangerously quiet before exploding with noise.

"No, no, no, absolutely not, I have my money on Wu Qingfang being the next one!"

"Please don't indulge this nonsense, they are already insufferable as they are-"

"You should call him for the next game." Mu Qingfang took a sip of his wine, the red on his cheeks spreading down his neck. "He's been dealing with a lot lately, I bet he would enjoy the distraction."

She turned to look at him, eyebrows pulled up in surprise as she slowly let go of her smoke.

"Mu-Shixiong really thinks so?" She tapped her ashes in an empty bowl next to her chair, ignoring Qi-Shijie and Wei-shixiong bickering to focus on her dear doctor. "You-" she paused, glancing at the two other cultivators, certifying they were distracted before taking his hand and gently squeezing it. "You know him better than any of us..." She paused again, their eyes meeting, a heartbeat passing before he gave her a soft smile, glasses a little crooked.

"I know it's been a while since he had good wine." Mu Qingfang squeezed her hand back with a discreet shake of his head. "And if there's anyone I trust to show him a good time would be Zhang-shimei."

She nodded slowly as she clicked her cup against his before taking her sip, the sweetness of the wine tingling on her tongue, making her sigh.

"Besides," Mu Qingfang continued, taking his last piece from the face-down pile. "Shang Qinghua is not that bad. The secret is to hand in his paperwork on time and not ask for any last-minute favors. Then he doesn't care about the rest."

"Hah!" Wei Qingwei exclaimed as he waved one of his pieces at Mu Qingfang's direction, showing its symbol for anyone to see. "It also helps that you like sucking his-"

Smack!

The sound of Qi Qingqi slamming both her hands against the wooden table was loud enough to make them all stop and stare at her bright red face.

"Can we talk about anything else that's not Shang-shidi- Shang- the A-An Ding Peak Lord love life?" And at each stutter, her grip on the table got stronger, to the point of her knuckles going white. "Honestly, you are all worse than my teenage girls!"

They looked at each other before lowering their heads with soft mumbles of "Sorry Shimei" and "Sorry Qi-Shijie." Zhang Qingyan felt bad for her poor Shijie, Wei-Shixiong must have already talked her ear off about Shang-Shixiong if she got to the point of exploding like that.

They went back to focusing on the game, their silence lasting for three more rounds before Wei Qingwei opened his mouth and-

"But how long do you think it will take until he notices his disciples bragging about him fucking Liu-shidi?"

Qi Qingqi grabbed the closer bottle she could reach and took a big swing while Zhang Qingyan patted her shoulder, holding back her laughter.

-------

Shang-Shixiong and Zhang Qingyan had a very... Feeble relationship.

They were both close friends to Mu Qingfang, but they had never actually talked anything substantial outside of small talk.

If anyone asked Zhang Qingyan why, she would say they just hadn't much in common. She liked her wine and spending days and days in her peak, experimenting with all types of tinctures and salts, while he would never stop going on and on about paperwork and numbers, topics she wanted to avoid like demons after she closed her office doors.

She knew he was a good man, Mu-Shixiong wasn't one to praise freely. She just had been under the impression of Shang-Shixiong being a busy bee that cared only for his work, with no time to let his hair down. Literally.

Then came the rumors.

First was a joke that she caught among her disciples, then a bet here and there. Upon a bit of a digging, she found out a very interesting talk among the disciples of all peaks. She didn't believe it at first, and who would?

But then Wei Qingwei told his own story, and added to what she knew Mu-Shixiong and Shang-Shixiong would get up to...

One couldn't ignore all the evidence.

She got curious, of course she did. Did she believe that her invitation for a game of Mahjong would be accepted? Honestly, no.

Was she disappointed when instead of a polite decline she received a confirmation of his presence at their next gathering?

Absolutely not.

"This one would like to apologize to Shang-Shixiong for the absence of the other guests," she said as soon as they sat down on the low table, the set of Mahjong organized over it, ready for a game. "Mu-Shixiong had to cover his head disciple's shift, and Wei-Shixiong is lost in his forge, he said he was about to finish his last masterpiece and couldn't come."

"You mean his masterpiece of this month, right?" He took his wine cup from her hands with a small nod, waiting for her to pour her own drink before taking a sip. "Hoping he doesn't blow up another forge."

"Let's hope not, or he won't escape Qi-shijie's fury this time."

The name made Shang Qinghua tense, a weak laugh escaping his throat while he looked around, as if Qi QIngqi would jump from the curtains at any moment.

"Speaking of her, you said she was invited too...?"

"Oh, she's invited, but with Qi-shijie is always a wild guess,"

They left their talk trickle down as they both sipped their wine. When the silence kept going, Zhang Qingyan put her cup down to get her pipe. If she was going to host, she would have a good smoke.

"Do you want some?" She offered the tobacco. "I also have another wine, if Shixiong prefers something a bit stronger."

"This wine is perfect, thank you," he said as he rushed to take another sip, nodding his head. "But- uh. I wouldn't mind a smoke, actually."

He took his own pipe out of his robes, filling his pipe with fresh tobacco, shoulders dropping as smoke left his lips.

Deciding not to let the conversation die a horrible death, Zhang Qingyan poured more wine to them, hoping for it to loosen up Shang-Shixiong's tongue.

She wanted at least some gossip to tell Wei-Shixiong!

"I'm sad that I've invited Shang-Shixiong all this way for a match and we won't be able to play." Zhang Qingyan said after taking another sip of wine before starting the task of putting the Mahjong pieces away.

He quickly started helping her to put all the pieces in the silk lined box, picking up one or other to admire the hand work. "We could play something else, if you would like," he suggested when they finished putting everything away.

"Oh? What do you suggest?"

He patted his robes until he found a qiankun bag, taking a bundle of paper from it, setting on the top of the table. "Have you ever played Yi?"

She put the box aside, reaching for the papers, letting out a surprised "Huh" when she touched it, not finding it as flexible as she was expecting. And the colors! There were the ones with numbers, but also many drawings, some of them so detailed one could stare at them for hours.

"You've made these?"

"Oh no, no, I'm not an artist. But I know a lady that does some commission work, so all I had to do was describe the cards for her to make."

"They are beautiful..." she whispered while admiring a red phoenix delicately painted to look as if it was curling around the number nine. "How do you play it?"

He delicately took the cards from her hands, setting one of each type on the table, explaining one by one along with the rules of the game. And during the entire time she couldn't help but feel impressed, her polite smile slowly becoming sincere the more he talked. And she could see that Shang-Shixiong was opening up too, his own lips curling up in a smile, eyes crinkling with joy every time she asked a smart question.

"And there are many ways you could bend the rules, some people back in my town would play it as a drinking game."

"A drinking game?" Zhang Qingyan immediately perked up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Would Shang-Shixiong want to try going against me? Really?"

He squinted his eyes at her, and she could see him biting the inside of his cheek, as if considering his changes.

"Yes, let's make it a drinking game."

Oh poor dear, he had no idea, had he?

It wasn't his fault, really. Zhang Qingyan wasn't the type to brag, and again, they hadn't spent enough time together for him to know what a terrible mistake he had just made. And before he could go back on his offer she brought a cheaper wine, pouring them both a cup full to the brim, pulling her sleeves up so they wouldn't get in the way of her handling the cards.

Shang Qinghua shuffled, cutting the deck in half and then shuffling again, giving each of them seven cards, picking one from the top of the remaining, a beautiful blue bird with the number 6 next to it settling the first color of their game.

And so it started. 

"Zhang-shimei is a fast learner," he downed his wine in one swallow, without blinking at the strong taste. She could see he wasn't expecting her to get the rules so fast, their first round ending with Zhang Qingyan's victory. "Maybe we should add more drinking rules."

"Shixiong is too kind," she batted her eyelashes at him. "But if you think you can keep up with this one, we could add a cup each time one has to buy two cards or more."

"Deal," he agreed with a smile that was too sharp and too dangerous, a glint in his eyes that made her giggle with anticipation. It was like she could hear Mu-Shixiong's voice laughing with her, poking at her ribs while saying proudly. "Told you he's not bad."

…She could also hear Wei-Shixiong too, a whistle followed by "Careful, Shimei~ you gonna fall for it~"

"I'm not falling for it," she thought as she shook her head while giving all the cards for Shang Qinghua to shuffle again, firmly ignoring the way her heart picked up pace when his warm hands touched hers.

They played another round, and then another, tricking each other as much as the cards themselves tricked them, drying one bottle then two, then four. At some point Shang-Shixiong had let his hair down, and Zhang Qingyan had lost her outer robe, both stacking cards as fast as they could just to see the other fumble, smoke and alcohol making the room spin softly around them.

"I didn't know Shimei was such a good drinker," Shang Qinghua set his card down, laughing as Zhang Qingyan cursed like a demon, picking up two cards before drinking her wine. "I should have proposed that we drank each time one has to buy a card instead of two or more."

"Careful, Shixiong, one could think you were trying to seduce poor little me," she replied with a sweet smile, while curling her hair on her finger.

"Oh shimei, if I were really trying to seduce you, I would suggest body shots," he laughed, then drinking his cup after drawing a card.

"What are body shots?" she couldn't help but ask, glaring at the bright green dragon in the middle of the table, her cards dancing in front of her. She had the card to change colors for a while now, but she could also make him draw four more cards.

Hmmm choices choices...

"Oh, uh," his hesitation made her raise her glance at his red face, surprised at how he had gone from relaxed and cheekey to embarassed in less than seconds. "It's- It's something from my town? But, ah, is a bit-"

"Shixiong," she set her cards turned down at the table, putting her elbows on top of it so she could rest her chin on her hands. "Is it a lewd game?!"

"Oh Heavens," he hid his face between his hands, groaning. "I should not have mentioned it, oh no, this is dangerous-"

"Now I'm even more intrigued," she leaned forward, head slightly tilted down as she looked up at him. "Shixiong wouldn't leave me curious, would he?"

She didn't think it was possible for him to become more red, but at this point he was about to let smoke leak through his ears. He coughed, recomposing himself only to lose it all over again after glancing at her neckline, mumbling a word she couldn't understand.

"I- I could show you?" his voice went up at the end as if he himself was doubting his abilities. But with a deep breath he took the wine bottle and drank a good half of it, setting the porcelain on the table with a sharp nod. "I will show you. But you have to promise not to be angry."

She laughed out of pure surprise, agreeing not to hit or harm him in any way. And the more Shang-Shixiong explained what he was going to do, the more she started questioning herself on why she had never seen him in one of Wei-Shixiong wild parties, or how the quiet peak lord had knowledge of such games.

And that's how she ended up with a cup of wine nested between her robes and her chest, and Shang-Shixiong standing right in front of her, brown eyes blown wide as he held her by her waist. They both moved slowly as if the air had turned into molasses, unsure of where the lines were drawn, Shang Qinghua's heated breath sending shivers down her spine.

It was mesmerizing to watch as Shang Qinghua bit the porcelain and threw his head back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Clear liquid trickled down his chin, making everything messy, and probably it was not as graceful as he wanted it to be, both already drunk as they were. But then he went and licked the cup clean and-

He raised his eyes at her, and it was impossible for her not to hold his face, sinking her hands into his hair. She guided him into a biting kiss, both of them moaning, as his hands slid up and down her body, touching her everywhere as she did her best to get rid of his collared shirt, pulling him even closer by the back of his neck.

If the room had felt hot before, now it was boiling, her red robes hitting the floor right after his leather bracers, her dark lip tint smeared over his mouth and cheek.

Everything tasted salty and sweet, the haze of the wine making her entire skin tingle as he pushed her slowly until he was lying on the wooden floor. She felt as if she were floating under the brushes of his fingertips as he left her chest completely exposed to his gaze, tracing a swirling pattern all the way to her belly.

"There's another way to do a body shot," he said, and the way his voice went deeper with lust, oh Heavens, she might never recover. All of Mu-Shixiong's wildest stories weren’t able to prepare her for the vision that was Shang Qinghua completely disheveled, hair dripping down his shoulders, strong muscles peeking from his half opened shirt. "Shimei would like to learn it?"

She kept nodding while he took the bottle from the table, gasping when he pulled the cork with his teeth. "This might tickle," was the only warning he gave her before pouring wine in her bellybutton. She whined, nails scratching his arms with thin lines of red as he breathed over the cold liquid before sucking. And he drank it all up to the last drop, his tongue dancing on her skin, setting it her on fire, turning her whine into full moans as his mouth went lower and lower and-

"S-Shixiong!" She cried while grasping his hair tight, her back bending until it wasn't touching the floor for a second.

The slurping sound was obscene, it was divine, it was driving her into madness. She couldn't stop making noise, pulling her legs up until her knees were touching his head, begging for more, begging for mercy, begging and begging-

"I must say..." He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, pressing a soft kiss on the side of her knee. "This was much better than any body shot."

She kissed the smugness off his face, doing her best to reverse their positions, biting as she noticed Shang Qinghua was letting her move him around, allowing her to sit on his lap.

He was about to find out two could play that game.

"My turn," she said as she grabbed the bottle, pouring it all over his chest.

----------

She took her time getting dressed, feeling relaxed like she hadn’t in a good while, body sore all in the right places. Her guest had already left for his own peak, but not before making sure she had a good breakfast and some water, hangover tincture ready by her bed. 

And as soon as she could, she set foot to Mu-Shixiong’s peak, asking the first discipline that passed by if the doctor was in his office, not surprised at all by the affirmative answer.

"Mu Qingfang," she didn't slam the door open because that would be beneath her, but her entrance was dramatic anyway, robes fluttering as she rushed to get closer to him, crossing his office in a few steps. 

"What?" he asked as he paused by his examination table, his magnifying glasses perched up on his nose. And it was a testimony of their long friendship that she didn’t even blink at the sight of him bent over what seemed to be a tentacled creature; a scare thin knife in one hand, a pair of tweezers in the other.

“You were right, I was wrong.”

“Well, that’s a first coming from you. What was I right about?”

She took him by his wrist after he set all his instruments aside, making him sit before going through his shelves to get the good wine. Yes, she was still hungover, but she was in the mood for a celebration.

That and the fact that she would collect a big bag later from her disciples was also very nice, but not the point.

“Shang-Shixiong came by yesterday.”

“Oh?” and that was what made him shift his entire focus towards her, fingers intertwined on the top of his desk. “And how was it? Did you guys play Mahjong?” and then he dared to wiggle his eyebrows at her, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop it, I just told you that you were right," she poured him the wine, waiting for him to sip first before tasting it as well. “And I have to admit, I didn't know fingers could move like that. And don't tell Qi-shijie but- his tongue?"

"I know," Mu Qingfang let out a dreamy sign.

"And how long can he hold his breath? I mean-”

"I know," he sighed again, a silly smile on his face. Before, when she was the one on the other side listening to him sing Shang-Shixiong's praises, she would roll her eyes fondly, saying that he was a man in love.

Now? She understood. She completely understood..

The entire time Shang-Shixiong had been the most polite, making sure she was comfortable, taking what he wanted but not taking it for granted. He asked permission in the sweetest ways, teasing her when she failed to use words. And at the end of it all, he had taken time to massage her sore thighs, kissing her feet, treating her like an empress.

It made her heart race but she wasn't a romantic woman. She liked to have fun but relationships? Hah! In a world controlled by men, to become someone's wife would be the same as giving away her power and titles.

Mu Qingfang, on the other hand...

"Are you... Are you alright with all of this? I know how deeply you feel about Shang-Shixiong." She took his hand between hers in a similar gesture all those days ago, searching in his eyes any sign of pain. "Just say the word, and I go after him to give a strong talk."

He laughed, a genuine belly laugh that made her relax her shoulders, the band around her heart releasing a bit.

"This one thanks his Shimei, but she doesn't need to worry. My relationship with Shang-Shixiong is not like that. We love each other, but I know he wasn't meant to have only one lover."

"That's a way to say it," she tsked as she patted his hand again, letting it go to pick on the sleeves of her robes, still a bit out of it from the previous night. "The man is turning the Sect into his personal harem… And I don't think he knows it."

"He has all of us wrapped around his fingers, doesn't he?" And then it was his turn to take her hand, checking her pulse and Qi levels out of habit. "Now, what else did you do last night?"

"Shixiong!"

"What? Is nothing I haven’t seen before, at least from his part. And I’ve told you worse and you know it."

She groaned, caught by his sound argument. She hid her face between her hands, feeling her ears burning up, face almost scarlet as her robes.

“Well?”

She peeked at him between her fingers, pouting. But when he just crossed his arms she knew she would have no escape. "Fine. But first-" she took his cup of wine, drinking it up in a gulp, the burning on her throat matching the burning of her face.

She started talking.

--------

The plan for this was:

They played mahjong cards

They got drunk

Sqh: uhh body shots is uhh a game but is not appropriate to play with decent company Zqy: good think I'm far from decent then ;)

BODY SHOTS

Uhhhhh, as spicy as we can get

And my brain couldn't think of any creative name for their UNO version so I went with the number one in Mandarin aaaaaa

Holy shit y'all I can't believe we are 7/12 already?!?!! sdhfuishdf Send help aaaaaaaaa

aaand next on the line is Beast Peak Lady, Wu Qingfang!

here is the masterpost of all the other achievements

thank you again for this ask and for giving it a read!!! :D

Beast Peak here we gooooo~

[eraenaa]

Virginal Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: Prince Aemond sets out to find a whore to warm his bed; he finds a virgin instead. 

Warnings: Dub-Con, Oral Sex (f receiving), Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 3,345

Sequel: Prince's Whore

Strife, suffering, and sorrow are all the Prince now feel— perhaps even then. He could no longer stomach the tolls of the war that was reigning havoc on the lands of Westeros. He sought a moment of reprieve, solace in the arms of a lover that he could take into his bed. Harrenhall was bent to his will; everyone was taken and at his mercy. He had women in his grasp, serving girls and some highborn ladies, even a bastard of House Strong, yet as comely and shapely as they were, none were able to stir the need brewing deep inside him. He could not find the want to take them into his bed and warm his cock.

He was, for a moment, entranced by a witch who held the name Rivers. The sorceress tried to seduce him with her lingering glances and mysterious presence, and he was ready to give in, to take her to his bed, but he had caught her placing her spell upon him. Slipping a vial of an unknown substance into his wine, Aemond could not tolerate such acts. He invited her into his chambers, luring her in with the pretense that he had succumbed to her charms, and as she sank to her knees before him, his cock in her mouth, and he was on the verge of spilling his seed in her throat, he took a dagger and slit her throat— him coming undone as her lifeless body fell and her blood pooled onto the floor. 

That sufficed the need in Aemond for a short moment, but just a few days later, he found himself in want of release again— something that would quench the ache in his loins and the fire in his veins. Not just a mouth around his cock but a cunt as well.

He blended into the night and reached town; slipping into a whore house, he heard a few of the soldiers muttering about. When he entered the establishment, nothing of note came into view. It was the same as any houses of pleasure he had stumbled upon during the night. He was in desperate need of company. Scattered around him were the perfumed bodies that masked the smell of vile scents wafted about the room. His eye searched for something that could possibly sedate his raging cock. 

He peeled away his hood, uncaring that the whores and their patrons could see his silvery locks; surely they have more pleasing matters to attend to rather than his presence. As he announced himself, he was quickly approached by a rather well-dressed man who he supposed was the owner. “My prince, welcome… you honor us with your presence.” He bowed lowly, and Aemond simply scanned his eye about the room once more. Without another word, the owner snapped his finger, and Aemond saw some workers hastily running across the establishment, surely readying themselves for him. 

Aemond was led deeper into the den of depravity and into a secluded room where a bed waited along with a line of whores on their knees, waiting for the prince to take his pick. Aemond still paid no mind to the owner as he tried to sell the girls. Aemond assessed each one of them, presenting him with their seductive gazes and trying to allure them with their smiles, pushing together their breasts in the hope that would press even further desire into the prince. 

He sneered as he almost finished assessing the lines of girls, ready to demand the owner to present him with a new batch, but his gaze was then caught by a cowering figure. Her eyes were planted on the floor, and she had used her long, flowing hair to cover her body, trying to display at least one ounce of modesty. 

Aemond strayed closer to you, his curiosity peaking. When the owner’s gaze noticed the prince had focused on you, he quickly stood by your side, who was kneeling at the end of the line. “A newcomer, my prince,” He said and forcefully yanked the back of your head in order to raise your face so the prince could see your features. “I think you would like her, my prince… the prettiest one we have.” 

Aemond said no word nor made any reaction, only studying the way your lips quivered and your eyes pooled with tears as you tried to avoid his gaze. “If her face does not please you enough, I am inclined to tell you that she is a highborn lady snatched away from her traitorous lord father’s care at the start of the war,” He added in pride. It was most beneficial for his business to have an asset such as yourself. Pretty, filled with youth, and had the blood of nobles coursing through your veins. 

Aemond blinked as he felt his cock strain further into his trousers. You were certainly far from his usual type, but only you had stirred such a need in him that he had not felt in many moons. “And if that still isn’t enough to please you, your highness… I shall as well inform you that she is a virgin. Untouched by any man… but I do warn you that may not be the case in a short while.” The owner heinously laughed. Aemond did not know how to take such facts. He was accustomed to experienced hands bringing him pleasure and comfort… but there was just something in your innocence that he found wholly more appealing. 

He turned to the owner and gave a nod. You breathed sharply as the room quickly emptied out, leaving you alone in the presence of a cruel prince. You were still on your knees, and your gaze quickly panted themselves on the floor once more. Aemond placed his hood by a chair and assessed your trembling frame that still knelt on the cold floor. “What house do you come from?” He questioned and brought a chalice already filled with wine to his lips. He drank two sips from it, but you still have not answered his query. “Speak, girl. Are you a mute?” He questioned, stepping before you. “N— no… my prince,” You say, ever so silently. He reached to grab your face in his hands, his fingers squeezing your soft cheeks together, a horrified expression screaming in your eyes. 

“What traitorous house do you come from?” He almost spat. “House… House C—Celtigar, your Highness,” You almost cried, and Aemond was silently surprised. The blood that coursed through your veins was not from any plain noble house; the blood in your veins was the blood of Old Valyria. “Hm,” Aemond hummed as his fingers that held your cheeks savored the way your soft flesh felt. “And how have they taken you?” He questioned and raised the cup of wine to his lips once more, waiting for your answer. 

“I was to be sent to Essos, but they— they commandeered the ship and slain the captain, and I was— was sold off from one man to another.” You explained, your hands clenching at the sheer fabric they made you wear, the material so thin that it did nothing to hide your body. 

You boldly raised your gaze at the prince, hoping to find at least one speck of empathy in his lone eye, but you paled further as you saw a sinister smirk rise to his lips. How fortunate was Aemond to stumbled to the whorehouse at this moment, having the pick of the litter. An overly pretty, untouched noblewoman is now kneeling before him; the gods seem to take pity on his needing state that had plagued him for moons that had left him restless and irritated. “Stand,” he commanded and finally let go of his hold on your cheeks. Watching as you slowly and wobbly obeyed and stood on your feet. 

He raked his eye upon your body, from your pretty face to the apex of your neck to your breast that hid behind the curtain of your hair. His gaze continued to travel downward from the curves of your hips and waist to your sex that was hidden by a dark shadow and to your plush thighs— as he saw the limbs of lavish flesh, a deeper sense of lust overcame him. He placed the chalice down and stepped closer to you. Aemond’s smirk widened as he heard a whimper leave your lips and your eyes tightly closed as he tore away the sheer fabric they made you wear. 

He threaded closer and brushed away the hair that covered your frame, feeling you shiver beneath his touch as his hand trailed to the small of your waist, then upward to your ample tit, your nipple pebbling beneath his cold and calloused touch. He lowered his head and placed it in the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent that was not riddled with the generic perfume that they bathed the whores with. Compared to them— you were a breath of fresh air. 

You gasped and turned stiff as the prince, without warning, pushed you upon the silk-covered bed. You cowered towards the headboard, petrified at the sinister smirk on the prince’s lip, completely enjoying your fear. “I must admit… I’ve never fucked a virgin before,” He said lowly as he took off his tunic, and you looked away as you felt your cheeks heat. “I’ve always preferred my women to be ones with experience… but there is, I suppose, something appealing in being the one first to taint a maiden— perhaps that is why my brother could smell them from a mile away,” Aemond said, a bit amused as he now realized the reason for his brother’s preference of seeking out virgins to be brought to his bed. 

Aemond undid his trousers, standing bare before you as you curled into a ball at the head of the bed. Aemond relished in your cry for help as he pulled you toward the edge of the bed— thrashing upon his hold. You feel your tears slip from your eyes as the prince spreads your legs, and your cunt is fully exposed before him. You inhaled a sharp breath as you felt his breath fanning your folds, assessing you. Aemond bore witness to the truth that you truly were a virgin, your maidenhead still intact and just waiting for him to be ruined. 

He thought about how to proceed; usually, he would have a maiden on their knees or on her stomach and take her from behind— no tenderness or foreplay, simply taking what he wanted and be done with all the bother. But somehow, your cunt was calling for his lips. He never found the appeal of it, feasting on a cunt that had been used and abused by differing men, sullying himself with the taste of other men on the body of a woman. However, you were untouched, and Aemond indulged himself with an act he was rather more curious about. 

You froze as you felt the prince’s fingers trace along the slit of your cunt, the sensation new and disturbing as no one had ever touched you in such a place before. You felt his hand press your fold together, his eye on every movement you made. Aemond marveled at your cunt, never truly assessing one before— he never thought a cunt could be so… captivating. When he ran his fingers in the middle of your slit again, he chuckled darkly as he felt wetness gathering in them; despite your reluctance and defiance, your cunt was begging to be touched. Aemond’s mouth salivated at the thought. 

A gasp left your lips, and you tried to close your legs as you felt the prince’s tongue replace his finger and lick a clean stripe in the middle of your folds. Aemond could not help but moan at the taste of you, tart and sweet, and he began to wonder if this was how his depravity would begin, with a taste of a virginal whore.

You bit your tongue as you felt his lips latch on the sensitive pearl, his tongue darting out and licking you further, teasing your hole and bringing further wetness. “Stop acting so demure and coy; you enjoy this, do you not, my lady?” He menacingly said against you, refusing to let his lips stray away from the sweet nectar of your womanhood. 

You shook your head and felt your tears fall further, but any denial you do did nothing to stop the arousal dripping from your cunt. Aemond chuckled and used his tongue to tease you further, slipping it into the void of pleasure. 

You finally let out a moan, one that was unexpected, and you felt shame as you found pleasure in such actions. That spurred further determination in the prince, darting his tongue in and out of you, his fingers sinking into your plush thighs as he, too, was overwhelmed by the pleasure of feasting on your cunt. Your sensitive pearl rubbed itself against the high bridge of his nose, your blood alight, your skin glimmering with a thin sheet of sweat, and your body ready to succumb to pleasure. Aemond felt it too, that you were close to what he concluded to be the first climax of your life, your body agitated and uncertain, your moans wry and held fear. He was debating if he should let you come undone now or wait when until his cock was buried deep inside your cunt. He was straying towards the latter, but as the thought of tasting you further infiltrated his mind, the prince obliged you to reach your peak and taste your orgasm. Your uncertain moans turned loud and sure, and your hands instinctively clutched the silver locks of the prince’s hair as you came undone by his tongue. 

Aemond hummed in content, feeling his cock weeping at the taste of you. “I’ve never thought a cunt could taste so delectable,” He mused and planted his weight on his knees, staring down at your bare, flushed body and your face that was still trying to comprehend your first taste of pleasure. 

The prince did not give you much time to grasp what had happened as his rough hands found home on your waist, and his cock was aligned against your dripping entrance. Your pleasured-clad face morphed into one of pain as you felt his length penetrating your undefiled hole. It was mean and sadistic, but Aemond found pleasure in taking away your innocence. He was filled with further satisfaction as he glanced down and saw how his cock was tainted with red, your maidenhead taken by him. 

“What lord will have you now, my lady? Now that you’re the prince’s whore?” He grunted as his cock was fully sheathed inside you, the tip of it brushing a spot he knew all too well. “Are those tears of pain or pleasure?” Aemond taunted as he bent down closer to your face, his fingers brushing away the salty water that spilled from your eyes. “If it is the former, I will try not to take it as an offense. There are worst fates than being my whore, my lady— just ask the girls that served my brother,” He smirked and kissed away your tears, his lips straying further to yours.

He never found much pleasure in the act; he would only sometimes oblige the old madame in his once-favored whorehouse with the act because she seemed quite keen on it, but he never liked the way she tasted on his tongue after. But you, gods, was it too much if he would say that just one taste of you has had him on the verge of addiction?

You took in sharp breaths of pain as the prince thrust into you; he was kind enough to slow down his movements, letting you accustom yourself to his length, but by the second, Aemond was growing impatient. His moves started to move at a faster, almost violent pace, ignoring your cries of pain as he was certain they would soon turn into cries of pleasure. He had never had a cunt as tight as yours before; he had never truly paid enough attention to every fluter, every clench, every movement of the woman he was fucking, but now he could not help but focus on anything that you did underneath him. 

He savored every moan and sigh that left your lips, every line on your furrowed brows, every scratch of your nail on his back as you felt his length rutting inside you. Aemond let out a groan as the moons of need started to overwhelm him. He was close to the peak he desperately sought, but he was genteel enough to coax one out of you first; you were a noble lady; after all, it would be terribly rude of him to leave you need and unsatisfied. 

Aemond straightened his back and felt his cock twitch as he saw the site of you laid before him, your legs on his shoulder, his fingers sinking on your soft thighs, and your tits bouncing at his every thrust. You watched through hazy and pleasured-filled eyes as the prince licked his thumb and placed it flat against your nubbin, and his other hand pressed down on your lower stomach and spurred you further into pleasure. Your lips spewed out his name as you came undone, and the prince was quick to follow you. Filling your cunt with his seed, and finally, Aemond felt relief and satisfaction over him. 

The prince panted heavily as he tried to regain his thoughts; he removed his length from your cunt and felt a lazy grin come to his lips as he saw the essence of both of you spill from your hole. Through your haze, you did not expect the prince to dip down and capture your lips into a kiss once again; tongue sought entrance, and you could not find it in yourself to deny him. 

Both of you panted as your lips parted. You stared into the unique lilac eye of the Targaryen prince and were soon overcome with the implications of what had just happened. Your cheeks further turned red as you avoided his gaze once more, ashamed at how you relished and had enjoyed being defiled by him. 

Aemond smirked and collapsed atop of you, savoring the feel of your intertwined bodies for a moment. You just lay there beneath him, and somehow, that was enough for him. But as he felt your hands wrap around him and your hand went to comb through his hair, he let out a further satisfied sigh at the feeling of comfort he never thought he could find in another. 

It did not take long before Aemond had drifted into slumber. The cacophony of his release, fatigue, and you lulled him into a deep yet quick slumber. When he woke, he found you asleep beath him as well, looking so peaceful with your tear-stained cheeks and plush parted lips. Aemond delicately removed himself from you and silently walked out of the room. 

When you woke, you found a pouch filled with coins by your side and the distant sound of moans and footsteps approaching. You raised the sheet of the bed to cover your naked frame as the curtain was lifted, revealing the silver prince. You stared in confusion as he tossed the dress you wore when you were abducted on the bed. “Get dressed,” You could only stare at him in further confusion, your limbs refusing to move. 

Aemond smirked as the fear returned in your eyes. He was halfway through his return to Harrenhall, but the thought of you haunted him. He finally found the release he sought, and it would be foolish of him to let it wander free. Aemond was a selfish man. He could not oblige the others and let them have a taste of the pleasure that only you could present.  

“Get dressed. I have brought you from your master. You’re all mine now, my lady.” 

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions. 

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.” 

Silence. 

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention. 

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin. 

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out. 

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair. 

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.” 

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them. 

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.” 

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-” 

Your head peaks up over the man��Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly. 

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home. 

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest. 

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks. 

“How long have we been married?” 

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her. 

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years. 

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

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[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ SLOW DANCE

violet; 1,171 words; fluff, jane austen!au, cross-dressing (vi), ballroom dancing, vaguely regency-adjacent vibes, almost angst if you squint very hard, no "y/n", lapslock

summary: i just wanna slow dance, this is the last romance

a/n: a very very belated happy birthday to @aimfor-theheart <3 i hope this tickles ur slow dancing vibes!!! ur so precious to me i hope u had a beautiful week!!!

─── Ⅵ YOU CAN TELL IT'S HER almost immediately, but in the spin of crenolins and the sweep of satin, the brush of silk gloves on velvet lapels, you're thankful that no one else has noticed.

the ball is drawing to a close, with only the most devoted of dancers still taking part, the orchestra striking up a slower tune, something honeyed. her fingers slip around your waist, her other hand finding yours with expert ease.

there's an entire galaxy caught in the hazy blue of her eyes.

"i thought you weren't planning on staying that long," vi says, cocking her head, her pink hair swept up beneath a stuffy wig in alliance with the latest parisian fashions. you glance around at the pairs of twirling dancers all around you, your stomach a twist of excitement and nerves, though you can't help the spark that chases up your spine at the thought of doing this, so out in the open.

"and i thought you weren't even going to come?" you bite back, though a grin crimps at the corner of your mouth.

the pair of you slip apart to circle around another duo of dancers before rejoining in a line. you take the momentary split to admire the clean cut of vi's body in her tailored suit, her figure so handsome no wonder none of the others have noticed there's a lady masquerading as a gentleman in their midst. you allow yourself a secret smile as she slides her hand into yours again, leading you through the steps of the dance as if it were second nature.

you resist the urge to drop your face into the crook of her neck (like you had done that one blessed summer afternoon, the pair of you laid out in the shade of the willow tree, a picnic blanket spread out beneath you, a half-drunk bottle of berry wine tucked in the wicker basket — she'd been in trousers then too, having tugged off the ridiculous skirt of her dress, leaving her oh-so-scandalously clad in an undershirt, a half-undone corset, and men's pantaloons, her feet bare —

"dance with me," you'd said, tugging her hand into yours. she'd laughed, the kind of full-bellied laughter that washes over your skin in great waves of joy, leaving you rocked and reeling, gripping onto her shoulders as she pulls you both up and spins you under her arm, catching you around your waist.

you'd buried your face in the warm crook of her neck, breathed her in, counting silently the steady staccato beats of her heart against yours.

"maybe one of these days i'll sneak into a ball and just… sweep you away," she'd murmured, her voice close enough to your ear to make your shiver.

you let out a string of bitten-back giggles, glancing up at her, eyes catching on the light constellation of freckles dotted across her cheek.

"please do… most of them are so stuffy i almost wonder if uncle's not just making me attend them as punishment.")

instead, you let her spin you to the edge of the dance floor, where you both topple into the back garden, laughter spilling from you both as vi tugs you behind a tall hedge of rosebushes to press her lips to yours, her fingers rucking up the material of your very full skirt. the kiss is mostly giggling until it melts into soft gasps and moans, vi's lips working their diligent way down the cut of your jaw to suck at the delicate skin above your jugular.

"v-vi — not — not too hard —!"

"mm… and here i thought you were a fan of being a little rough —" she grins, pulling back.

"i —" you swallow, tamping down the urge to reach for your fan as vi cocks her head, watching you with half-lidded eyes, her gaze sharp as the scimitar moon above you, "i do — just —" you peak around the hedgerows towards the main ballroom, "i do have to go back in there at some point in time…"

vi's eyebrow hitches as a slow, steady coil gathers at the base of your belly.

"unless you don't."

you narrow your eyes, a faint, hummingbird-flutter collecting at the back of your throat as you stare at her.

"what… what do you mean?"

"unless…" she drags out the word, long, languorous, like honey on a perfect slice of fruit, caught and silvering in the liquid moonlight, "i spirit you away right now in my horse and carriage, and no one need be any the wiser."

the fluttering grows, so much like feathers you almost forget to breathe. and then —

"but — what of my carriage —?"

"i've already spoken to your coachman and… if you don't arrive in the next hour or so… he'll take the carriage and head back on his own."

you purse your lips, the giddiness pluming inside you till it spills out in reams of incredulous laughter.

"you've thought this all out, haven't you?"

vi shrugs, leaning in to brush a strand of hair from your face, her eyes softening as she tugs you in for another long kiss.

"i promised that i'd steal you away for a night, didn't i?"

you swallow, licking your lips, your breath caught in the cool, summer night.

"that… you did," you answer, leaning into her as she pulls you along the pebbled path deeper into the garden. soon enough, the music from the ballroom is nothing more than a whisper on the wind, and the world no more than cricket-song and the steady drumbeat of your own, yearning hearts.

vi laces her fingers through yours, pulls you into her side till you're face to face again. she smiles, takes your other hand in hers and spins you around in a flourishing dip that sends the night sky pinwheeling above you. you let out a surprised squeak, laughing as you relax into the ridiculous position before she pulls you up and the pair of you spin in slow, steady circles, your cheek resting against her shoulder, her chin tilted slightly upwards as she hums.

hours pass, or perhaps only minutes. or, it might've been several moon-lit days. time slips, inconsequential, as the pair of you sway beneath the spinning, star-strewn sky.

"why can't it always be like this?" you ask, lifting your head just to peer up at her.

vi sighs, a tiny grin gracing her lips.

"it can — and it will —" and it's the conviction in her voice more than anything that soothes you, makes you believe, even for the fraction of a second, that this — all this — might end up working out someday. somehow.

"but for now…" she says, gently guiding you back to her, your bodies pressed, spinning in slow, unhurried circles amidst the blossoming florals of a summertime garden, you, leaning up to graze your lips to her jaw, feeling her shiver at your touch, her fingers tightening around yours for just a second before she relaxes again, chuckles, presses a soft kiss into the seam of your hair —

"just… dance with me."

TAGLIST: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @the-drama-is-real @froggybich @chwlogy @xrhyllamyx @yaeil @sweetybuzz25 @lustfirepoison @gigizwrld @bruisedbygod @luvmoo @autisticgirlkisser @elegantunknowncloud @norwayromanoff @16novvs -- join the taglist

[sleep-0-deprived]

Viserys I x ftm male reader one-shot~! (,,>﹏<,,)

WC:. 2.0K

Tags: breeding, impregnating, consummating marriage, afab anatomy, after aemma died Viserys married you au, age gap, reader is nineteen, ftm reader, soft sex, praises, dub con, sex with little plot, oral (Reader receiving), cw slight blood<33

A/N: S’ been a minute an N’body asked but M’ back with ah hotd obbsessiion

Taglist: @miyaisastar @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦

The room was loud and the air was heavy, this wasn’t what you wanted at all, the last thing you wanted was to be married off and yet that’s exactly what just happened. It was evidently clear when you stared around at the other lords and ladies enjoying the feast- a moment to celebrate your new marriage to the king of the iron throne, Viserys. You couldn’t seem to muster up a happy thought about it- you just sat in your too tight robes holding a golden goblet of wine in your hand knowing what was to come for you at the end of the night.

Your eyes followed around the ballroom while you take a sip of the wine, you didn’t touch the food that everyone else seemed to be enjoying, you just sat silently feeling the weight of the Targaryen empire already weighed down onto your shoulders despite you only being a new addition to the dynasty.

All you could hear around you were the sounds of laughter and chatter from other Targaryen’s and high court members, your husbands daughter Rhaenyra sat talking away with your brother in law Daemon at the other side of your husband Viserys.

When your newly husband wasn’t looking you stood up walking out of the ball room and making your way to your bed chambers, your heels click to the floor of the old castle, every knight you passed simply nodded and gave a small bow, oh how you hated all of this especially the bejeweled crown that sat a-top your “h/t” hair the crown was heavy and felt like just another object to show the world you were just another man bound to the throne.

When you open the door to the now shared bedchambers it almost felt like a peak at the future life that you would have with Viserys, a picture of what was to come for you in the near years. A lavish canopy bed with cream colored silk for sheets having dim candle light around the room with a vanity sitting against the wall, old perfumes and a brush sat there.

“That must’ve been queen Aemma’s..”

“It was, I couldn’t bring myself to rid it just yet, sweetling”

A voice speaks up from behind you making you turn seeing your husband standing looking at the vanity with a weary look on his aged face, it was clear as day he was still mourning the loss of his wife and it almost made your heart ache for him.

“I’m sorry your highness—“

“Viserys, just call me that when we’re alone”

“Viserys it is then”

You never let your eyes stray from him, waiting to see the next move being unsure still, you start to undo your necklace taking the pearls off then your earrings laying them down on the vanity. Still in your deep green wedding robes, the color dark as the evergreen forests and smooth from the rich velvet fabric it was made from.

“I shouldn’t be so gloom and ruin our night, it’s not everyday a boy gets married is it?”

A pair of hands find their way to your hips clasping them feeling him pressed right up behind you making your mind go blank having a fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach having only one thought ‘it’s happening’ those words sunk into your head but you didn’t have the strength or will to push the king away, even if you stopped it tonight then it would inevitably happen..after all this was your duty, to provide him with a male heir.

“You feel so nice sweetling, I have no doubt you’ll give me great babes”

You could feel his beard pressed into the side of your neck, he starts lifting your robes up pulling them over your upper thighs, his palms pressed warm to your inner thigh working its way between your legs slipping into your panties pressuring flush against your cunt, he could feel the swelled labia down under only making him hum and guid you over to the bed. His crown falls off in the matress and his face slips from your neck going lower kissing over the clothed swells of your chest before kissing his way to your stomach only going lower.

His breath was hot on your core- you felt it even with your panties between his mouth and your lips, his hands slid your panties down your ankles taking your heels off and throwing them to the floor while his violet eyes look up at you pressing kisses to the area between your thighs and cunt. His kisses were wet and sticky on your skin making you look up at the top of the canopy just accepting your fate.

“I wish to make your night a beautiful one, you deserve all of the best pleasures my dear”

His voice was deep, you could feel the vibrations of his mouth when he reached your lips pressing kisses from the top of your cunt where your clit peaked from the folds making his way to the tender hole that clenched and puckered at the air fully empty and waiting. All Viserys could think of was getting his seed inside your womb- he just had to knock you up soon and your young fertile womb would be perfect.

The rings on his stubby fingers pinch against the s/c skin of your legs leaving them with small flushed marks, your slick starting building up with every flick of his tongue having your hips half lifted off the bed trying to grind into his face while you fist the sheets letting out small cry’s when his tongue glides over your tender nub.

“Please, be merciful please”

“I am being merciful sweetling, just tell me what you wish for and I’ll give it all to you”

His words were sincere and that was undeniable but your thoughts were cut short when his tongue found its way into your tight cavern spreading your gummy walls and letting them wrap tightly on his tongue. Your hand found its way back down to his hair. You grab a handful of the silver locks and bend your back upwards feeling a hot sensation in the bottom of your stomach.

“I don’t know Viserys-“

You croak your words out having a tremble in your thighs with your head up on the pillows of the bed, your walls fluttering all spread around his tongue feeling on edge while he works your body. hands gripping flesh leaving a tingle on your thighs when he keeps them from wrapping around his head. His facial hair rubs against your skin leaving little irritating marks behind only adding to the pleasure you feel.

“You taste so sweet, how’s it feel darling?”

“Feels nice, I feel close”

You squirm under his mouth feeling the need to get off but before you reach your climax his mouth pulls off of your pussy leaving it all glossed in his spit feeling cool against the air. His hands slip up and hold your robes pushed high, his other hand getting yours out of his hair. Viserys sits on his knees between your thighs holding a desperation to get inside you while he sits with an ache in his pants.

“I’m sure you haven’t been deflowered yet, so I’ll make sure to be gentle with you”

Purity was something deemed so sacred to have that if you didn’t you may as well work at a brothel, you just nod up at him watching his hands undoing his belt and pulling his breeches down, his cock springing forwards having a pudgy tip with silver hair around the base, you knew it was happening right when he mounted you with his face in your clothed chest. Viserys moves his arm up to the side of his face pressing his tip between your lips and rubbing the mixed fluids on his length as lube.

“Hm-“

“Shh, just be still for me sweetling”

His thumb slides over your bottom lip having your eyes wide wanting to cry when he pushes inside you stretching your inner walls open wide around him leaving you to feel every vein of his length while he lays on top of you. The ceiling blurs from your vision when your eyes swell up with tears and yet you still stay quiet. You knew the day would come when this would happen to you even if it wasn’t by Viserys then it would be some other noble lord.

Your folds spread like petals on either side of his cock swallowing it, blood mixes with your fluids from your now torn hymen showing your cherry popping. Your stomach rises and falls fast feeling his cock rubbing your deepest parts massaging yours insides leaving you to adapt to the shape of him. Your moans are silent and muffled against his hand, your womb ached and throbbed, you knew he’d knot you up when you felt his tip leaking a mess inside you.

“You’re doing so very good for me, my dearest boy”

“Ah- ha”

The only words that left your lips were just simple gasps for air, your ears ring taking in his praises feeling him loving up and down your body with his free hand holding your hip to pull you back on his cock letting you take it all while his pelvis rubs your clit with each gentle stroke. Viserys was true to his words at least, he was gentle and sweet with his words giving rolls of his hips that could nearly be said to be a little affectionate or loving.

“You’re close, I can feel it-“

His pace picks up removing his hand from your mouth and onto your covered breasts gripping at the mounds of flesh feeling your nipple pucker under the velvet. Your insides squelch from being fucked open having a slight string of blood on his cock seeping into his pale pubes while he grounds his hips upwards into you like he was trying to plant himself as deep as he could push his tip. A sharp pain brushes inside you when he hits your cervix making you grip the sheets tighter bitting your lip and scrunching your face up.

A hot rush soon spreads over your body leaving tingles on the skin. He was coming inside you, his seed spewed from his tip leaving you gasping feeling your throat tighten when he works your body leaving you a mess under him while he continues to grope your chest, making love to your pussy.

“A-h there you go, take it all for me darling”

He croons out with his beard all damp from your previous juices. Your pussy starts fluttering around his manhood making a ring of come around the base, he grinds his hips forwards making sure his seed is planted deep as he can get it— the goal was to have you with a babe by the end of the night and he was gonna do it. You look down from the top of the canopy with your glass like eyes staring at him, your orgasm rushing over you when his pelvis squishes against your clit leaving your vision starry, your walls tighten and pulse feeling a throb in your clit nearly jumping when you finish around him.

“O-h so full”

Your face was flushed when the older male slips his hand off your breast and up to your cheek to clasp it, Viserys holds your hip steady, not yet pulling out of you as he lays still between your thighs cradling your body gently.

“You’re so good to me sweetling”

“..thank you Viserys”

You’re still in a state of shock only whispering out the words you know should be said to him in return for the compliment, this was now your life wasn’t it? This was what your future will be, sex- heirs- repeat all over again for him..you could handle it couldn’t you? It was too late because you didn’t have a choice and Viserys wasn’t letting you out of his grasp anytime soon.

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

he would never admit it to anyone, but dick grayson loves it when you get a little jealous. or, rather, he loves making it up to you after the fact.

it’s not unusual for him to be at the receiving end of suggestive remarks and lustful gazes. he doesn’t go out of his way to make it happen, and he never entertains other women’s flirtatious comments, but when your boyfriend looks like that, there’s no avoiding it, really. so when he invites you attend a wayne gala at the gotham museum of antiquities, it takes more than a little self-control for you to stay calm.

three hours in, you’re one “gosh, you’re strong! and those eyes,” away from causing a scene with a glass of red wine. ever-observant, dick squeezes your side softly as he excuses himself from his conversation with another tall socialite, guiding you to the perimeters of the room.

“what’s wrong?” he smirks. asshole. you narrow your eyes at him before looking away, trying not to snap at him. you know it’s not his fault.

“nothing. I’m fine.” lie. he laughs softly and settles his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. he’s going to enjoy this.

“come on, baby,” he pleads. “these ladies are big donors, that’s all. I gotta keep up appearances.” you meet his gaze once again, your lips in a tight line, and his smile widens. “what, are you gonna make me beg for forgiveness?” you say nothing, but you notice a gleam in his eyes that sends heat rushing between your legs. his grip on your hips tightens as he leans in close. “alright, pretty girl. let me make it up to you.”

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“d-dick…” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down. there’s no need, really; the museum’s marble bathroom stall, paired with the string quartet performing at the gala, muffles your moans well enough.

your black gown is bunched around your waist, and dick’s suit jacket lies discarded on the floor, along with your underwear and stilettos. you shakily hold yourself up on the marble sink with one hand, the other wound in dick’s soft, black hair as he kneels between your legs.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he coos, pulling away from your dripping core. you whine at the loss of contact, and dick chuckles at your misery. his lips glisten with your fluids as he trails one of his slender fingers up your inner thigh. “talk to me.”

“keep going,” you breathe, widening your legs involuntarily. “please, dick, god—” you’re cut off by your own moan as he slides two of his fingers inside you. his lips return to your needy clit, sucking hungrily as his other hand snakes around to grope your ass. your legs begin to shake as he speeds up his pace, and his eyes look up to meet yours. you see him smile against your pussy as his fingers hit that spongy spot in your walls, drawing out an incoherent string of profanities with his name woven through them.

seeing you like this drives dick crazy, and he’s unsure if you know it. the way your body responds to him is one of his favourite things, even if sometimes he plays little games to get you where he wants you. the sight of your expensive dress crumpled up around your contracting abdomen has his pupils blown wide. god, you’re so fucking beautiful. his cock strains painfully against his pants, but he ignores the ache in favour of working your pretty pussy the way only he knows how to. besides, he knows you’ll take good care of him later.

you feel the coil in your belly tighten until it starts to snap, your orgasm drawing dangerously close. dick curls his fingers again, coaxing you to the edge. thoughts of the gala unfolding right outside slip from your mind, and your knees buckle as you reach your peak. “dick, fuck, I’m—”

your breath hitches as you cum over his fingers, and you’re grateful his arms are there to keep you standing. his tongue works you through your climax until you’re bucking your hips away from the stimulation. he pulls away from your aching core, gazing at the glistening mess between your thighs with pride.

he rises to meet your eyes and kisses you hotly, your high still on his lips. you clutch at his shoulders, breathing in his scent as you kiss him back. his muscular arms trap you in a tight hug, and his piercing blue eyes crinkle at the corners with the boyish grin that spreads across his face as he takes in your dazed expression.

“so,” he says smugly, gently running his thumb over the corner of your lip where he smudged your lipgloss. “am I forgiven?”

[keraawrites]

Your highness

Summary: Barbarian Bakugo, he was just that. A barbarian who didn't wait until someone told him he could have something; he took what was his, and if he had to fight to do it, then that was a bonus. So when you, the Princess of the Earth nymphs, makes an appearance at his name day, he has already taken with you, and it doesn't matter to him that you're already promised to someone else. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Virgin reader, chasing, possessive Bakugo, cunnilingus, missionary, unprotected sex, nipple play, outdoor sex,

Word count — 7.7K

The morning of his name day broke over the vast, untamed lands of the Dragon Lords, bathing the towering peaks and dense forests in molten gold. Mist curled around the jagged cliffs, rolling down into the valleys like the breath of sleeping giants. The scent of damp earth, pine, and lingering embers from the night’s fires filled the crisp air.

Katsuki Bakugo stood at the edge of the river, bare-chested, his muscles taut as he tightened his grip around the throat of the struggling beast in his grasp—a wild drake, its black scales slick with water, its teeth snapping inches from his face.

"Stupid fuckin’ lizard," he growled, his grip unyielding.

The drake thrashed, wings cutting through the air in desperate defiance, sending sprays of icy water over his already damp skin. Its talons scraped against the riverbed, searching for leverage, but there was none to be found. With a snarl, Katsuki twisted, using his full weight to slam the creature onto the riverbank, pinning it beneath his knee.

"Yield," he ordered, crimson eyes burning as they locked onto the beast’s own.

The drake let out a strangled hiss, struggling for another breath before its body sagged beneath his strength, wings folding in reluctant submission. A slow, victorious grin spread across Katsuki’s face as he ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing back the wild strands sticking to his forehead.

"You’re gonna make a fine war mount," he muttered before finally releasing the creature’s throat.

The drake remained still, its breathing ragged, its golden eyes locked onto his. For a moment, neither moved. Then, slowly, the beast lowered its head in silent acknowledgment of his dominance.

The sound of heavy footsteps crunching against damp earth drew his attention.

"Knew you’d be out here," Kirishima’s voice rumbled, laced with amusement.

Katsuki scoffed, rising to his feet. "Better shit to do than sit around waitin’ for a bunch of pompous pricks to show up."

Kirishima chuckled. "Those ‘pompous pricks’ are noble lords and highborn ladies, here to honor you." He tossed a thick fur cloak toward him, which Katsuki caught without looking. "You might want to clean up before heading back. Your mother’s already fuming about your absence."

Katsuki clicked his tongue, shaking off the excess water before throwing the cloak over his shoulders. "She can wait."

Kirishima smirked. "Maybe. But the guests won’t."

Katsuki ignored him, his strides long and powerful as he made his way back toward the towering stone fortress. The Black Keep loomed over the land like a beast carved from the mountain itself, its spires jagged and sharp, banners of black and gold snapping in the wind. Inside, the halls were alive with movement—servants rushing to prepare, warriors clad in ceremonial armor standing at attention, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine thick in the air.

He strode through it all, ignoring the hushed whispers of admiration and fear that followed in his wake. He was used to it. The barbarian prince. The dragon-blooded warrior. A man feared and respected in equal measure.

And yet, none of it mattered. Not the feast, not the gifts, not the alliances his parents sought to strengthen in his name. He continued to ignore Kirishima and Kaminari's jokes as his eyes scanned the crowd lazily.

But then his sharp gaze landed on you.

You were not of his land. That much was clear.

The air itself seemed to hum around you as you stepped into the great hall, your presence like a whispered secret carried on the wind. Your skin was rich as dark earth, your deep curls woven with golden leaves that shimmered under the firelight. A gown of soft, flowing silks clung to your form, the colors shifting like dappled sunlight through the trees. Vines curled delicately around your arms, shifting with your every movement—alive, breathing, connected to your very soul.

An Earth nymph.

His fingers twitched at his sides, an unfamiliar heat curling in his gut. He had heard of nymphs before, but never had he seen one in the flesh. They were creatures of myth, tucked away in sacred forests, far from the bloodshed and steel that shaped his world. They did not mix with his kind. They did not belong in his halls.

So, why were you here?

Then his eyes flicked to the figure beside you.

The youngest Todoroki prince.

Katsuki’s body went rigid, the realisation hitting him like a blade to the gut.

His jaw clenched, something dark and possessive curling in his chest. The thought of you—his—belonging to someone else made his blood boil. He had conquered beasts, brought warriors to their knees, burned enemies from the sky with dragon fire. And yet, the idea of losing something that wasn’t even his yet was unbearable.

Before he even realised he was moving, he was already striding forward.

The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the shift in the air. Conversations hushed, whispers breaking out as he approached. But he didn’t care. His world had narrowed to the woman before him, the nymph who dared to enter his domain and steal his breath without a single word.

You turned, your gaze meeting his.

And for a moment, the hall itself seemed to still.

Katsuki didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate. He stood before you, his towering presence casting a shadow over both you and the Todoroki prince at your side. His crimson eyes burned with intent as they raked over you, memorising every delicate curve, every shift of magic in the air around you.

"Who is she promised to?"

His voice was low, edged with a growl, meant for one person and one person alone.

The Todoroki prince lifted his chin, his pale face unreadable. "To me," he answered simply. "By sacred bond between the Nymph Kingdom and the Fire Court, our union—"

Katsuki barely let him finish. "Not anymore."

The words were a declaration, sharp as steel, final as death.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

Shoto’s brows lowered, his own magic crackling like embers. "You have no right—"

"I have every right," Katsuki interrupted, his gaze never leaving the nymph princess. His smirk was slow, dangerous, filled with nothing but raw intent. "I want her."

The weight of his words crashed through the room like a war horn. The tension was palpable, thick with unspoken threats.

Kirishima shifted behind him, the guards tensed, the nobles murmured. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting—whether in shock or something else, he didn’t know.

The Todoroki prince stood rigid beside you, his mismatched eyes narrowing with cold calculation. The fire in his veins did not burn recklessly like Katsuki’s—it was slow, controlled, waiting for the right moment to consume everything.

"You don’t understand what you’re doing," Shoto said, his voice even, unreadable.

Katsuki scoffed. "I understand just fine."

His gaze never left you. His princess.

You had not spoken yet, but he could feel the storm beneath your skin, the tension coiled tight in your frame. You were not the type to be taken lightly—he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, the way your hands clenched at your sides as if resisting the urge to let your vines lash out and strike him.

"Do you now?" You finally spoke, your voice smooth as flowing water yet sharp as a blade. "You would go to war over me, Barbarian?"

Katsuki’s smirk was slow, deliberate. "I’d burn the whole damn world down if it meant having what’s mine."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through your deep brown eyes. "You speak of me as if I am a prize to be claimed," you said, your tone dangerously quiet.

Katsuki tilted his head, studying you. "You stepped into my land looking like that, and you expect me to do nothing?" His voice lowered, rough and unapologetic. "You’re either blind or foolish."

Your nostrils flared, a whisper of magic curling in the air around you.

"Do not mistake your strength for the right to take what does not belong to you," you warned. "I am not some jewel to sit upon your hoard, dragon."

Katsuki’s grin only widened. Good. He had no interest in some wilting flower who would bow and tremble before him. He wanted this—your defiance, your challenge, the way you met his gaze like you were unafraid.

But he saw it, just beneath the surface.

The way your breath hitched when his eyes dragged over you.

The way your vines, wild and unpredictable, didn’t recoil from him.

Oh, you felt it too.

The thread of something inevitable weaving between you, tightening, unbreakable.

Shoto took a step forward, his voice colder than winter’s bite. "This union was forged in the name of peace. If you challenge it, you challenge more than just me. You challenge the Fire Court. You challenge the Nymph Kingdom."

Katsuki rolled his shoulders, unconcerned. "Then let ‘em come."

A murmur of shock rippled through the gathered nobles. Even his mother, the fierce and calculating Queen Mitsuki, sat forward on her throne, sharp eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

"Katsuki," she warned from the dais. "Do not be reckless."

Katsuki didn’t spare her a glance. "Too late."

"You are willing to bring war to the realm for a woman you just met?" Shoto asked, his tone clipped.

Katsuki finally dragged his gaze away from you, leveling the younger prince with a look that was pure fire and fury.

"Not just a woman," he said simply.

Shoto exhaled through his nose, gaze hardening. "You’re a fool."

Katsuki chuckled, low and dangerous. "Maybe." The blonde didn't know what losing was. He had the strength to command full-blooded dragons and a whole army. He had won countless battles, yet this was the one that had his blood burning.

The days passed in a blur of fire and steel, of shifting earth and dragon wings.

You couldn't quite fathom how quick everything escalated. The Prince wanted to wage a war over you, a war that he would indeed win that would end in endless bloodshed, and you didn't want that.

In the end, you and your parents had signed a treaty declaring your hand in marriage to the Barbarian Prince. It severed ties and made the relationship with your kingdom and the Fire court strained, but here you were, engaged to the dragon Prince, your wedding day on the horizon.

You found yourself navigating a world unlike anything you had ever known. The Dragon Kingdom was vast and untamed, its people as wild as the land they ruled. The air was thick with the scent of pine and ash, the mountains towering above them like ancient gods. The fortress of the Dragon Lords, carved into the very cliffs themselves, pulsed with life—warriors training in the courtyards, blacksmiths hammering away at weapons, the sky alive with the roar of dragons as they circled the peaks.

And you were to be their queen.

You should have hated it.

Hated him.

Instead, you found yourself adapting.

The barbarian way of life was crude, loud, and unruly—but it was also unapologetically alive. The people were fierce, loyal, and battle-hardened, but there was laughter in the streets, joy in their feasts, brotherhood among their warriors.

And you were not alone.

Despite being an outsider, despite being the nymph stolen by the dragon, you had found allies—friends.

It started with Mina.

The pink-skinned dragon shifter had no sense of boundaries. From the moment you met, Mina practically adopted you, dragging you into conversations, insisting that you sit beside her at meals, asking a thousand questions about the Nymph Kingdom.

"You have actual trees that move when you tell them to?" Mina had gasped one evening, eyes wide with wonder.

"Of course," you had replied, sipping your honeyed wine.

Mina had turned to Kirishima, smacking his arm. "Why don’t our trees move? That’s so unfair!"

Kirishima, who had long accepted Mina’s dramatics, only chuckled. "Because our kingdom doesn’t need them to.“

Sero and Denki had quickly inserted themselves into your life after that.

Sero was the calm one, his humor dry and his wit sharp, always watching, always amused.

Denki, on the other hand, was a menace.

"So," Denki had asked during a sparring session, "if I plant myself in your garden and ask nicely, do I get magical powers?"

You nearly smacked him with a vine.

Despite their antics, they had all become yours—a strange, chaotic family in a land you were still learning to call home.

But Katsuki?

Katsuki was the problem.

He was everywhere.

At feasts, grinning whenever you got into a heated debate with one of his lords.

In the halls, too close, too warm, his crimson gaze lingering whenever you passed.

You hated it.

Hated the way his presence unsettled you.

Hated the way your body reacted whenever he was near—heat curling in your stomach, skin prickling when his fingers brushed against yours, your breath hitching whenever his gaze dropped to your lips.

He never touched you, never crossed the fragile line between them.

But he made sure you wanted him to.

It was infuriating.

It didn’t help that the people of the Dragon Kingdom adored him.

You saw it in the way his warriors followed him without question. In a way, the common folk bowed their heads in respect but grinned like he was one of their own.

Katsuki was not a prince who ruled from above—he was a warrior who bled beside his people, who fought for them, who they would burn kingdoms for.

And despite everything, even though he had stolen you from your betrothed, even though he was reckless, arrogant, and completely insufferable—

You found yourself rallying for him. But it was a couple of days before the wedding that was the turning point for you.

The lake was your only refuge.

It wasn’t the same as the lakes of your homeland, where the water shimmered with the essence of life, where the trees whispered secrets only nymph ears could hear. But it was the closest you had here—a small piece of nature untouched by fire and steel.

You sat at the water’s edge, bare feet sinking into the cool, damp earth. The wind stirred the surface, rippling it like silk, the rustling leaves above offering a song that reminded her of home.

You missed it.

You missed the soft, green light filtering through the canopies of ancient trees. You missed the way the air smelled of wildflowers and rain-soaked earth. You missed the feeling of being surrounded by life that understood you, that responded to your presence.

Here, everything felt foreign.

And yet…

You were changing.

The Dragon Kingdom was working its way under your skin, into your bones. The people, the land, the warriors who had become your friends.

And him.

A low crunch of boots against soil made you tense. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone." His voice was always like this at night—low, rough, like embers smoldering beneath the surface.

You sighed, fingers tracing idle patterns in the dirt. "I can take care of myself, Barbarian."

You heard him scoff as he approached, expecting him to stand behind you, towering and overbearing as he always did. Instead, he sank down beside you, his knee brushing against hers. It was warm.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared out at the water with you, the quiet stretching between you.

"You miss it."

You swallowed, the ache pressing against your ribs. "Of course, I do."

"I know what it’s like to have your life decided for you."

You turned to him then, surprised. Katsuki Bakugo was not a man who admitted weakness, nor did he often speak of things that weren’t wrapped in threats or challenges.

He didn’t meet your gaze, staring ahead instead, golden eyes dark with thought. "You think I asked for this?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I was born into it. Had to fight for every scrap of respect, every goddamn breath. Always proving myself, always being the strongest, the smartest, the best. Because if I wasn’t, someone else would take it."

You watched him carefully, seeing something raw in his expression.

"It’s not the same," you said quietly, "but I understand."

His jaw tensed. "Then you should know—I don’t regret choosing you."

Your breathing stalled.

He turned then, finally meeting your eyes. The firelight from the torches in the distance flickered across his face, casting sharp shadows over his cheekbones, his strong jaw.

His gaze was hungry.

"I would have taken you no matter what," he said, voice rough. "Even if you weren’t promised to that bastard prince. Even if it meant burning every kingdom that stood in my way."

You should have been afraid. Should have recoiled from such reckless, consuming devotion.

But you weren't.

Because something in you wanted him just as badly.

The tension between you thickened, a storm pressing in. You could feel his breath, feel the way his body was so close, so unshakably present.

His movement was slow, as if waiting for you to stop him.

His lips brushed against yours, the softest graze of heat and longing. your fingers curled against the earth, heart pounding as he kissed you again—firmer this time, claiming, devouring.

You melted into it, into him, into the way his hands moved—one gripping the back of your neck, the other pressing against the small of your back. 

A small sound escaped you, and that was all it took for something in him to come alive.

He growled against your lips, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you were dizzy.

Gods…

Your fingers found his chest, nails dragging over his skin, feeling the solid muscle beneath. He was all heat and strength, all restrained power barely kept in check.

You had never been kissed like this before. Had never known you could feel this kind of need.

His hand tightened in your hair, and you gasped, arching slightly into him.

And just like that—he was gone.

Katsuki pulled back, his breathing ragged, his hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was physically forcing himself to stop.

His jaw was tight, his crimson eyes burning.

"God’s I want you." His voice was thick with hunger. "I want to take you right now and make you mine before the gods themselves."

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your lips bruised from his kiss. You swallowed, unable to form words.

He exhaled harshly, wrestling with himself. 

His hand came up, fingers brushing over your swollen lips, the touch almost reverent.

"I’ll wait," he murmured, voice strained. "I’ll respect your ways."

His thumb traced your bottom lip.

"But make no mistake—"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "On our wedding night, I’m going to ruin you."

The day had arrived.

The sun hung heavy in the sky, a golden eye bearing witness to the union of two realms—fire and earth, dragon and nymph.

The entire kingdom had gathered for the occasion. The towering stone fortress had been transformed, its halls and courtyards adorned with rich greenery, golden banners, and intricate carvings of dragons and vines entwined—a symbol of the bond being forged today.

It was a spectacle of power.

The barbarian warriors of the Dragon Kingdom stood tall in their ceremonial armor, weapons strapped to their backs even in celebration. The nymphs, draped in flowing silks and woven flowers, moved like whispers of nature itself. The contrast was stark, yet somehow… fitting.

At the center of it all stood Katsuki Bakugo.

He was impatient.

Dressed in a deep red tunic embroidered with gold, his broad shoulders covered by a thick fur cloak, he looked every inch the warlord he was born to be. His crimson eyes burned with anticipation, his hands clenched at his sides.

He had waited for this day. 

The great doors opened, and the air itself seemed to still.

The sight of you nearly brought him to his knees.

You were divine.

Your gown was unlike anything in the Dragon Kingdom—woven from enchanted silks that shimmered between hues of deep green and gold, mimicking the shifting sunlight through ancient leaves. Vines curled along your arms and down your back, alive.

Your dark skin glowed beneath the sunlight, and your curls were adorned with golden leaves and tiny white blossoms—an Earth-born goddess walking toward him.

And you were his.

His fingers twitched. His throat went dry.

You lifted your gaze, meeting his, and the weight of everything passed between you.

Two weeks of tension. Two weeks of near fights and near kisses. Two weeks of stolen glances and bated breath. Two weeks of resisting the inevitable.

Today, there was no running.

Katsuki smirked.

As you stepped forward, the ceremony's music began—a deep, rhythmic drumbeat mixed with the soft, lilting chimes of nymph instruments. It was the blending of two cultures, just as they were about to be.

When you reached him, you did not look away.

The ceremony began.

The Nymph King and Queen stood solemnly to the side, their expressions unreadable. They had reluctantly agreed to this, for the sake of peace. But it was clear that, despite everything, they still weren’t sure if giving their daughter to a barbarian was wise.

Too late now.

A high priestess from the nymphs and an elder dragon shifter from Katsuki’s court conducted the binding rites.

Vows were spoken—not of love, but of power.

Of loyalty.

Of forever.

And then came the final part—the binding of hands.

A thick, golden rope, imbued with ancient magic, was wrapped around your wrists. The moment the final knot was secured, the magic surged—a deep hum of energy that sealed your union in the eyes of gods and mortals alike.

It was done.

"You may claim your bride," the elder intoned.

Katsuki’s lips twitched.

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly, giving you one last chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

His smirk widened, he claimed you.

The kiss was not soft.

It was not hesitant.

It was everything.

It was fire meeting earth, molten heat against unyielding strength. It was the end of a battle neither of them had been willing to surrender to—until now.

You gasped, and he took the sound into his mouth, deepening the kiss until he could feel the way you trembled.

Your fingers curled into the fur of his cloak. His hand tightened around yours, your bound wrists keeping them locked together.

Mine.

The crowd roared.

The barbarian warriors stamped their feet, the nymphs let out melodic cheers. The kingdom rejoiced.

But Katsuki barely heard them.

His world had narrowed to the woman before him—his wife.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was heavy, his voice a rough whisper meant only for you.

"Two weeks," he murmured, brushing his thumb against your wrist, where the magic still thrummed between them. "I waited two godsdamn weeks for this."

You smirked—smirked—and leaned in, your voice just as low.

"And you'll wait until tonight for the rest."

Katsuki growled.

The gods help you both.

Tonight, he was going to ruin you.

The grand hall of the Dragon Kingdom roared with life.

The wedding feast was a spectacle unlike any other. Long tables stretched across the hall, overflowing with roasted meats, golden fruits, and goblets filled to the brim with dark wine and honeyed mead. Great fires blazed in the hearths, casting flickering shadows over the ancient stone walls, where banners of red and gold hung proudly alongside green and gold.

The air was thick with laughter, music, and the pounding of drums. The barbarian warriors celebrated as they always did—loudly—clashing their mugs together, breaking into drunken chants of victory. The nymphs, though more refined, had let the night pull them in, their voices rising in song, their bodies swaying with the music.

At the head of it all, sitting on the raised dais, was the newly bound couple.

You still felt the weight of the magic binding you, a soft thrum against your skin that reminded you of what they had just done. You stole a glance at Katsuki, who sat beside you, crimson eyes scanning the crowd, his fingers drumming against the wooden armrest of his seat.

He was restless.

You could feel it, the tension in his body, the heat that radiated off him despite the coolness of the hall.

You swallowed, gripping the goblet in your hands as Mina flopped into the seat beside you.

“Gods, I thought that ceremony was never going to end,” Mina groaned dramatically, pouring herself another drink before nudging your arm. “You looked stunning, though. And the way he looked at you—” She wiggled her brows. “Like a dragon ready to devour his offering.”

Your face warmed. “Mina—”

The pink-haired warrior grinned. “Tell me, are you excited for the chase?”

You frowned. “The… chase?”

Mina blinked, and for a brief moment, she looked genuinely surprised that you didn’t know. But before she could press further, Denki came up behind you, dragging Sero along.

“There you two are!” Denki slurred slightly, plopping into a seat. “We were just about to start placing bets on whether or not Kirishima would drink that entire barrel of ale.”

Mina smirked. “Oh, I’d put ten gold pieces on him making it at least three-fourths of the way.”

“I say he passes out before then,” Sero added, throwing an arm over the back of his chair.

You couldn’t help but smile at them. In the weeks you’d spent adjusting to your new life, they had welcomed you into their circle without hesitation.

“The Queen is coming,” Sero interrupted, tilting his chin toward the front of the hall.

You turned just as Mitsuki Bakugo stopped in front of you.

You had seen little of the Dragon Queen in the past weeks, but she had been impossible to miss. She was a force—sharp-eyed, quick-tongued, and utterly unafraid to put Katsuki in his place.

Now, she stood before you—her new daughter-in-law, arms crossed, assessing.

The hall grew quieter.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose there are worse women my son could’ve married.”

The tension broke as Mina snorted into her drink, and Denki choked on his mead.

To your absolute shock, the Queen leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping away and lifting a golden goblet.

Mitsuki turned to the crowd. “This marriage has bound two realms together in ways we could have never anticipated. And so, to honor this union, I officially recognise the treaty between the Dragon Kingdom and the Earth Nymph Kingdom. May it bring prosperity and power to us all.”

The room erupted in cheers. The Queen could barely hold in her smirk as she turned to you.

“But before we send the newlyweds off, there is still one tradition left to uphold.”

The rooars of approval were deafening, confusing at that because you weren't aware of this tradition, but Katsuki very much was. He stiffened, his body radiating restless energy, causing your stomach to drop

Mitsuki ran her fingers through your hair, and for the first time tonight, her grin was truly wicked.

“Daughter,” she said, “it is time for the chase.”

The hall erupted into cheers, the pounding of fists against wooden tables sending tremors through the floor. The warriors of the Dragon Kingdom roared their approval, while the nymphs exchanged curious glances, their court unfamiliar with this particular tradition.

You, however, sat frozen, your goblet held loosely in your grasp as your mind raced. Your stomach rippled with nerves, but before you could air out your confusion, Katsuki stood, you watched as he took his tunic off, as his muscles rippled against his tribal tattoos.

Your thighs clenched in anticipation. His aura was suffocating, and you still didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“For generations, the chase has been a rite of passage for the royal bloodline of the Dragon Kingdom,” the Queen announced, her voice ringing out over the gathered crowd. “A test of strength, speed, and above all—claim.”

You swallowed, your pulse hammering as the older blonde focused back on you. “Daughter, as our customs dictate, you will be granted a head start. You will run into the woods, and my son will hunt you down.” Her lips curled. “If he catches you, the wedding night begins.”

The hall erupted again.

Your eyes widened, you turned to Katsuki, who simply smirked as if he relished the idea of chasing you through the dark woods, of catching you, of—

Oh.

“Oh.”

Now it made sense why Mina had asked if you were excited. Why Katsuki had looked so restless all night. He’d been waiting for this.

Waiting to hunt you.

Your breath came faster, excitement and unease tangling in your chest. This was a game to them, a tradition, but the way Katsuki watched you made it clear—this wasn’t a game to him.

This was real.

And he intended to win.

Mitsuki raised her hand again. “Bride, rise.”

You did, slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of you gown.

“Go,” Mitsuki said. “Run.”

The room exploded with noise—cheers, whistles, pounding fists. The scent of mead and smoke filled your nose as you stepped away from the table, your heart slamming against your ribs.

Your eyes lock onto your husband’s, and the feral look in his gaze sends a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach. Every nerve in your body screams at you to run. To flee. To play the game he so desperately craves.

So you do.

You don’t think twice before turning on your heel, your bare feet barely making a sound as you bolt from the great hall and into the wild embrace of the woods.

The night air is crisp against your overheated skin, but it does little to cool the fire that rages within you. The thrill of the chase—of knowing he is coming for you—sends adrenaline surging through your veins, pushing you forward. You weave between the trees, ducking low-hanging branches, the hem of your tattered wedding gown catching on underbrush as you move. The earth hums beneath your feet, answering your silent call. Vines coil and twist in your wake, rising from the dirt, stretching toward the sky to slow your hunter.

But you know better.

Katsuki doesn’t dodge obstacles.

He destroys them.

A thunderous roar splits the air behind you, raw and primal. The sound alone makes your legs falter, your heart slamming against your ribs. The ground quakes beneath the weight of his power, and then—chaos.

Wood splinters. Branches snap like brittle bones. The earth itself trembles as he barrels through the barriers you’ve placed, shattering them with sheer, brute force.

You force yourself faster, muscles burning, lungs screaming as you sprint toward the lake. The trees begin to thin, and the moonlight spills over the water’s surface like liquid silver. But the moment you burst from the treeline, you know you’ve made a mistake.

Too open.

Too exposed.

If you run into the lake, he will catch you. If you try to double back, he will still find you.

Think.

The answer comes in a breath.

With a flick of your wrist, the mist thickens. It rises from the water, curling around the trees, swallowing the forest in a veil of dense, ghostly white. You disappear within its embrace, pressing your back against the rough bark of an ancient tree, forcing your breath to slow.

Silence.

The stillness unsettles you.

You listen, straining to hear beyond the hammering of your own heart.

Then—nothing.

No snapping branches. No shifting leaves. Just the eerie quiet of the mist.

And that’s when you realise.

He’s already here.

A sharp gasp tears from your lips as arms encircle your waist, dragging you back against an unyielding wall of muscle. A calloused hand claps over your mouth, muffling the sound, while his breath fans against the nape of your neck.

The deep rumble of his voice sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

"If I didn't know any better, little nymph, I'd say you wanted me to catch you."

Your breath hitches as sharp teeth graze the sensitive skin of your throat, nipping, teasing. His free hand roams lower, skimming the curve of your waist before slipping beneath the torn fabric of your gown. The remnants of the chase cling to your body, tattered and ruined—just like he wants you.

A guttural growl vibrates against your skin as his fingers ghost along the inside of your thigh, barely brushing against where you ache for him most. The sound you make is somewhere between a whimper and a moan, your hips instinctively shifting closer to his touch.

“Fuck, Princess,” he rasps, his voice rough with restraint, thick with hunger. “You’re not makin’ this easy.”

Your fingers dig into his arms, feeling the heat rolling off his skin, the raw strength coiled beneath the surface. “I don’t plan to.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, dark and dangerous. His grip in your hair tightens, tugging just enough to make you gasp, exposing more of your throat to his waiting mouth.

His lips press against your pulse, his tongue flicking over the rapid thrum beneath your skin before he bites down—hard.

Your knees nearly give out.

A sharp, helpless moan escapes you as he soothes the sting with his tongue, his fingers pressing tighter against your thigh. He hasn’t even touched you properly yet, but your body is already betraying you, already drenched with want.

Then his hand finally slips between your thighs, fingers brushing against your slick folds.

He stills, his breath catches.

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His fingers slide against your bare, dripping heat, and he curses again, voice rough with something close to agony. “You were like this all day?”

You hum, lips curving into a wicked smile as you trail your mouth along his jaw, the sharp stubble scraping against your soft skin. “Waiting for you,” you whisper.

Something in him must have snapped, because the next thing you knows, he’s pressing you harder against the tree, your leg hiked up over his hip, locking you against him. His hand moves with purpose now, fingers parting your folds, rubbing slow, torturous circles over your aching bud.

Your breath shudders, pleasure rolling through you in waves.

His lips brush against your ear, voice thick with a promise that has your core clenching around nothing.

“I am going to fucking ruin you.”

Your pulse pounds against your ribs. “Then do it.”

A sharp gasp shudders from your lips as Katsuki's fingers slide lower, pressing against your entrance but never quite giving you what you need. The heat between your thighs is unbearable, the ache unbearable, and yet he moves slow, teasing, savoring your frustration.

A growl rips from his chest, low and feral, before his mouth crashes into yours, claiming you with a desperation that sets your blood on fire. You don't remember how, but your body was now being pressed into the Earth as his fingers dug into your hips.

The last remnants of your dress are torn away with a sharp rip, the sound lost beneath the rustling of the trees. The night air is cool against your bare skin, but you barely register it.

He took his time, lips dragging down your neck, his teeth grazing your delicate skin before he bit down, leaving a mark—his mark. A deep shudder wracked through your body as he moved lower, his kisses slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you with his tongue.

Your breath hitched when he reached your breasts, his mouth closing around one aching peak, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. You gasped, arching into him, fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished you with attention, sucking and teasing until you were trembling beneath him.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Like you were made for me.”

You were already dizzy, his mouth continued its descent, lips ghosting over your stomach, his hot breath sending goosebumps trailing over your skin.

You jolted when his fingers grazed the apex of your thighs, your body instinctively clenching as a wave of nervous anticipation washed over you. Katsuki paused, crimson eyes flicking up to yours.

He could feel it—your innocence, the tension in your muscles, the way you held your breath. Fuck. It made him feral; you were completely innocent, and he was going to ruin you.

His fingers dipped lower, a slight groan leaving his lips. "Fuckin' soaked," he mutters, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, spreading your arousal until you're squirming against his grip. "Drippin’ for me, Princess. You got no idea how fuckin’ crazy that makes me."

You whimper, a sound that has his grip tightening in your hair, forcing your head back so he can kiss you. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet.

Your breath hitches when his lips leave yours, trailing down your throat. He lingers over the mark he sucked onto your skin earlier, his tongue flicking over the bruised flesh, as if he wants to remind you—remind the gods themselves—who you belong to.

His voice is a whisper of sin against your collarbone. “I can't wait. 'Till I have you screamin’ my name so loud the heavens fuckin’ shake.”

A shiver races down your spine.

You roll your hips, grinding down onto his hand, trying to take more. He groans into your mouth, the sound raw and guttural, but still—he holds back.

“Beg,” he orders, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with restraint. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

You used to be very prideful; you were the Princess of the ancient Earth Nymphs. You did not beg for anything, but your mind was hazy, your curls nodded against your head as you mumbled your response, already drunk on him like he was honeymead.

"Katsuki," you breathe, reaching behind you, fingers sliding into his messy blond hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. "Please."

The word is barely out of your mouth before he’s gripping your hips, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin.

You cry out, your head falling against the grass as he curls two thick fingers inside you, stretching, teasing, coaxing pleasure from deep within your core. His other hand slides up your spine, keeping you pinned as he fucks you with his fingers, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the quiet night.

“Fuck,” he grits out, watching the way your body reacts to him, the way you tighten around his fingers. "You’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna be even tighter around my cock, huh?"

You moaned, the sound sinfully deligtful to his ears, the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. His eyes were blazed over, he pulled your leg over his shoulder as his face became present with your cunt.

Your face flushed from the intimacy, "Kat-- you shouln't--"

"Eh!? Don't tell me I'm not allowed to eat my bride's pussy."

Your head fell back, your curls fanned out against the damp grass as you felt his lips suck violently on your clit as his fingers continued to work an orgams out of you.

A strangled cry tears from your lips, your body arching off the forest floor as his tongue moves against you with devastating precision. Heat coils low in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter as he devours you like a man starved.

"Katsuki—" His name is a breathless plea, your fingers tangling in his unruly blond hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

“Fuck,” he growled, pulling back just enough to smirk up at her. “You sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

He groans against your soaked folds, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. His fingers don’t slow—curling, pressing against that devastating spot inside you while his tongue flicks over your clit, sucking, licking, worshiping.

"Shit," he rasps, pulling away just long enough to look up at you, his chin glistening with your slick. His crimson eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. "Taste like fuckin’ honey, baby."

Then he's back on you, tongue and fingers working in perfect, merciless rhythm. Your thighs tremble around his head, and your grip in his hair tightens, body writhing, pleasure building unbearably high—

Your fingers tangled in his hair, thighs quivering as he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it with a pressure that had you gasping, writhing beneath him.

You felt something coil deep in your belly, tight and urgent, your body winding up like a bowstring about to snap.

“Katsuki— I can’t—”

He groaned against you, his tongue flicking faster, harder. “Yes, you can,” he growled. “Let go for me, Princess.”

"Katsuki—fuck, I'm—"

"Do it," he growls against your heat. "Come on my tongue. Let me feel it."

A sharp cry rips from your throat as you shatter, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tenses, legs shaking as he coaxes every last tremor from you with slow, languid strokes of his tongue.

Katsuki pulled back, licking his lips, eyes dark with satisfaction. “So fucking sweet,” he muttered.

You barely register him moving, but suddenly, he's above you again, pressing his body against yours, caging you beneath him. Your eyes began to adjust, landing on his crimson gaze, his eyes uncharacteristically soft

He loved the contrast of your skin against his, the way your body flushed against him as you still tried to come down from your orgasm, but Katsuki wasn't a very patient man.

A soft groan left your lips, legs still shaking as you came down from your high. He hooked your leg over his waist, your eyes widened as you saw the size of his cock.

Fucking hell, how was that gonna fit? His chuckle filled your ears as he began coating himself in your wetness, your eyes rolling back softly as he continued to tease you.

"Don't worry, baby, it'll fit."

Katsuki drags the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. Every slow, teasing stroke against your swollen clit sends a fresh wave of pleasure rippling through you, making your body tremble beneath him. He smirks at your reaction, eyes dark with hunger, with need.

You whimper, rolling your hips against him, desperate for more. “Katsuki, please—”

He groans at your plea, gripping your thigh and hitching it higher against his waist, spreading you wider beneath him. His other hand slides up your body, fingers splaying across your stomach before trailing higher, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. He watches your reaction, the way you arch into his touch, the way your breath catches.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down your throat, over the curve of your breast, before latching onto your sensitive peak. He sucks, slow and deep, his tongue flicking over the bud until you’re gasping.

You pull him away from your skin, your eyes meeting his as your lips ghost over his. "Fuck me,” you breathe, the words tumbling past your lips before you can stop them. “Take me, Katsuki.”

A guttural sound rips from his throat, and then—

He sinks into you.

Your mouth parts on a silent gasp, your back arching as he stretches you open, filling you inch by agonizing inch. The burn is sharp, but the pleasure? The pleasure is devastating.

“Shit—” Katsuki’s voice is strained, shaking as he fights to hold himself together. He stills, buried to the hilt inside you, his arms trembling from the effort of keeping himself in check. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”

You feel it too—the way he’s stretching you, the way your body struggles to accommodate his size. But the pain is already melting into something else entirely.

Katsuki groans, his grip bruising as he sets a rhythm that has you gasping, clinging to him, meeting every thrust with desperate, rolling hips. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the trees, mingling with the ragged moans that spill from your lips.

“You were fuckin’ made for me,” he growls against your throat, his teeth scraping against the delicate skin. “This pussy—fuck—this perfect, tight little pussy is mine.”

Yours.

The word echoes through your mind, through your very soul.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

Your hands tangle in his wild blond hair, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, desperate and consuming. He drinks you in, swallows your moans, his hips slamming against yours in deep, punishing strokes.

He feels the way your walls flutter around him, the way you’re teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart in his arms.

His fingers drop between your bodies, finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.

You don't even realise it before it's too late; you shatter, pleasure crashing over you in violent, breathtaking waves. Your vision goes white, your body clenching down on him, dragging him over the edge with you.

Katsuki groans, his rhythm faltering, his grip on your hips bruising as he thrusts deep one last time, burying himself inside you as he spills into you with a low, shuddering moan.

The world is silent except for the sound of your mingled breaths, the quiet hum of the forest around you. The night is still, the mist curling lazily over the lake, the moon bearing witness to the union that has sealed your fate.

Katsuki stays there, forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his heart hammering against your own. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together, grounding you both in the aftermath.

He presses a kiss to your temple, soft and lingering, "You were mine the momen't I laid eyes on you, but now, nothing can take you away from me."

Your lashes flutter against your skin as you stare up at him, the hum of your magic coursing through your body as you softly clenched around him.

Your lips caught between your teeth as you could feel the difance welling up in you. You knew you were his; you had fallen for him long before the wedding, but that didn't mean you would make it easy for him.

Your brows raised, your fingers running down his bicep, "You must not have done a very good job at claiming me then, Barbarian, because I still don't feel like yours."

You could feel the excitement and nervousness bubble in you as you watched his eyes completely darken, the sound of your giggles echoed through the forest as he roughly turned you over, your fingers dug into the Earth as he pulled your ass up.

"Yeah? Seems like I'm gonna have to claim you over and over again, your Highness."

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[nottivagos]

CALLING ALL SINGLETONS! ARE THOSE LONELY NIGHTS FEELING LONGER THAN USUAL? THEN THIS AMAZING GETAWAY IS JUST FOR YOU! Come join us on a Singles Cruise tour around luxurious Europe for a week!

Introducing... Singles Cruise AU : DR3

Being freshly out of a divorce is awkward for anyone. The wedding ring still tight on your ring finger as you stand in the port, nervous about the adventure you were about to embark on. You didn't understand why your friends wanted you to go on this little week away, you thought you were coping fine with your rather abrupt divorce until now.

Then Daniel came along. Divorced for over a decade, he was looking to rekindle that flame that burnt deep inside of him whilst he was with his ex. However, being a CEO of a rather large corporate business, ‘settling down’ hasn't exactly been his strong suit. He's no stranger to these little week-long getaways, and is pretty friendly with the staff aboard, so he's gained a reputation for being a heart-throb and player with many of the ladies on deck.

What makes it any different for you?

Divorced CEO!Daniel who notices you nervously waiting around the cruise foyer after boarding the ship. His thick Australian accent noticeable whilst he flashes a large smirk on his face when he introduces himself almost instantly, obviously taking a liking to yourself, before offering you a handshake which lasts a little second too longer than it should've.

Divorced CEO!Daniel who's physical image has stayed unchanged even after his divorce. Linen shirts that fit his figure ever so easily, face cleanly shaven, with maybe a little stubble visible. His hair isn't unruly, it's nicely trimmed and styled, despite the harsh gales you could sometimes experience on the boat’s outside deck.

Divorced CEO!Daniel that just has to be your neighbour on the cruise. He greets you every morning from his balcony as you lounge on your own, cup of coffee in your hands whilst you watch the world go by as the boat sails on. He's taken an interest in you, the ring still on your finger peaking his interest first, before the small talk becomes more casual as the holiday goes on.

Divorced CEO!Daniel who becomes more friendly with you as you start to open up to you. On a day when you're in port, he spontaneously tells you that he's booked a wine tasting experience that he wants to take you on. The whole experience is magical, making you feel alive again in some way, as his arm wraps around your waist uninvited but welcomed by you at the end of your shared day not at sea.

Divorced CEO!Daniel that despite his divorce being due to him prioritising work over his ex, doesn't prioritise work over you. During the duration of the getaway, you have his full attention, watching as his eyes light up or when he lets that iconic laugh fall from his lips as you tell him about yourself over a coffee or something more strong at one of the cafés or bars on deck.

Divorced CEO!Daniel who steals a kiss from you underneath a romantic sunset after a lovely meal in the cruise’s most luxury restaurant on board. He makes sure that you're treated like a queen, before taking a stroll with you hand in hand around the deck, before sealing the night with a loving kiss that you just melt into, the ring around your finger (which is quickly discarded the next day) not even serving as a barrier between you both.

Divorced CEO!Danny who's quite the exhibitionist. He's got the staff wrapped around his finger, so who is he to not break a few rules with you? One late night, you both share a hot tub on deck, sipping cocktails as the sun sets on the sea after a long day sailing. He swims closer to you, hands coming to grope your bikini top whilst he kisses your neck, stubble grazing the skin, murmuring how beautiful you looked all evening— how you were teasing him. Before you know it, you've melted into the hot kiss, his tongue deep in your mouth, suffocating your moans as his calloused fingers are pumping deep into your cunt whilst under the water.

Divorced CEO!Daniel who gets off to the sight of you desperate whilst he's on a business call. On one lazy morning, he'd invited you into his cabin, to which it had escalated dramatically. You were soon hopelessly riding his cock, whining and whimpering into his neck, pleading eyes coming to meet his stern own, as he had his phone pressed snugly to his ear, talking about costs and other business things you didn't understand whilst drunk on the sensation of his cock splitting you open. What didn't help was the cruel smirk he flashed before answering the person on the other end, unbothered by you struggling and begging for a release.

Divorced CEO!Daniel that doesn't mind letting the whole cruise know who you're owned by. If anything, he's proud that he's created a bond with you. (Yes, he's definitely even thinking of proposing), as love bites and bruises blotch your collarbone and exposed skin when you're forced to wear your flowy, revealing summer dresses when it's warm. His arm wrapped snugly around your waist as he pressed more kisses to your neck, especially over the marks on your skin, smirking as he does so, feeling accomplished by the marks he's left behind.

Divorced CEO!Daniel who is definitely an ass man. He loves grabbing it at any given opportunity, especially when you're not expecting it, watching you squirm, face flushing with embarrassment or when you gasp slightly whenever he pinches, grips or slaps it without any warning. But Divorced CEO!Daniel who's also a tit man. He loves playing with your boobs, cupping them with ease in his palms, watching you moan as he toys with your sensitive nipples, rolling them in circular motions with his thumbs whenever he's got you alone in his cabin.

bon voyage, my dearest followers! like the singles cruise au? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so divorced ceo!danny can be brought to life even more! - notti <3

[nebulaafterdark]

Chérie

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader x OC

Summary: Aegon’s wife accompanies him to the pleasure house and returns with a new lady in waiting.

18+ ONLY, MDNI Targcest, Smut, Threesome

“Might I go with you to the pleasure house?”

“I will not go this night.” Aegon assures her, “I will stay with you, my darling.”

“I…wish to see what it is you do there.” Y/N forces the words out.

Aegon grins, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If we share this, we share everything. I will have nothing left, in the absence of you.”

“Then you mustn’t be in my absence.” Y/N presses a kiss to his lips. “I want you all of the time.”

Aegon sighs, “spoiled thing.”

“Take me,” Y/N challenges.

“Very well.” Aegon keeps tight hold of her hand as they sneak out of the castle to the streets of silk. Weaving through the smallfolk as they carry on happily.

He looks back at his wife, taking it all in. Mayhaps you too long for a simpler life.

Y/N tucks herself against his side as they enter the pleasure house.

Aegon whispers. “They will not bite unless you ask them too.”

Y/N huffs a laugh, “might I have some wine?”

“Of course, darling girl. They will bring it to our room.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Aegon nods. “Anything you want.” He pulls back the second to last curtain, revealing a woman with long dark waves. Her back to them, wearing only a purple satin robe. “Chérie.”

She turns to face them, the loveliest woman Y/N has ever seen. “My prince.”

“Might I introduce you to my darling wife-”

“Princess,” the woman bows her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Y/N smiles, “you as well. I can see what keeps my husband coming back. You are very beautiful.”

Chérie cocks her head to the side, “I am sought after for our likeness. You are beautiful, your grace.”

Y/N does not believe her, “you are very kind. Might I have a glass of your wine?”

“As much as you’d like, Princess. What’s mine is yours.” Chérie moves away from the table, toward the center of the room.

Aegon watches as his wife pours herself a cup. “She’s never fucked a woman.”

“We’ve all been there, have we not?” Chérie bumps his shoulder with her own.

“Too right you are.”

“Tell me, my prince, does she taste as good as she looks?”

“Better.” Aegon beams.

Y/N chugs down the wine, turning to Chérie. “Now what?”

“Whatever you’d like, your grace.”

Y/N beckons the other woman closer. Cupping Chérie’s face in her hands and pressing their lips together, testing the waters.

Chérie draws the princess in closer, burying her hands in dark waves, similar to her own.

“May I touch you?” Y/N murmurs against her lips.

“Yes, princess.”

“Call me by my name.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

Aegon makes himself comfortable at the foot of the bed, enjoying the show.

Y/N tugs playfully at the closure of Chérie’s robe, allowing it to fall open and onto the ground. Trailing kisses down her neck and collarbones to her breasts, feeling the weight of them in her hands, before taking the left peak in her mouth.

Chérie’s head falls back. “Might I help you with your dress, Princess? Y/N.” She amends.

“Please,” Y/N nods, turning away from her, allowing nimble fingers to unlace her gown. She’s never been nude with anyone but Aegon, the maesters, or her maids.

Chérie lies open mouthed kisses along her shoulders, feeling her shiver. Gently she comes around to face her. “Would you like more wine?”

“No,” Y/N blinks at her. It is irrational, to fear being perceived by someone who does not love her.

Chérie brushes her lips over Y/N’s, “you are lovely.”

“Best of luck trying to convince her.” Aegon remarks. “She’s grown deaf to my opinion on the matter.”

Y/N looks over Chérie shoulder to her husband. “Why is it you’re still dressed?”

“Because no one has been kind enough to undress me,” Aegon chuckles.

“Come,” Y/N holds a hand out to him. “I will do it.”

Chérie perches herself on the bed, allowing them to carry on. Whispering and giggling as Y/N works Aegon free of his robes.

Y/N trains her gaze on the woman upon the mattress, head cradled against her husband’s shoulder. “I’d like to taste her.”

“Fine by me, my love. This night is for you.”

“May I?” The Princess asks Chérie.

“So long as you’ll let me return the favor.” Chérie replies.

“Aegon,” Y/N calls, sweetly. Dropping to her knees at the bed’s end. “Will you help me?”

He comes to kneel beside her. “There’s no reason to be nervous, my dearest love.” Aegon brushes dark waves from her face and over her shoulders as Chérie lies back; allowing her legs to fall apart. “See how wet she is for you?”

“Yes.”

“Put your pretty mouth just there and show her what you like.” Aegon coos, “then take these fingers,” he moves for her dominant hand, kissing her index and middle digits. “Find the spongy part of her cunt and stroke upward.”

Y/N imitates the motion. “Like this?”

Aegon runs his knuckles over her cheek, “just like that.”

Y/N nods, kissing him one last time before diving in. The woman above her squeals in delight as the princess licks a firm stripe up her slit.

“Good girl,” Aegon murmurs.

Chérie’s hands find Y/N’s hair, massaging her scalp, moaning in earnest as the princess slips a finger inside, then a second. “That feels wonderful, Y/N.”

She tastes of honey and rose water. Y/N understands then, how Aegon could spent hours with his head between her own thighs.

“You should fuck her,” Chérie says to Aegon. “With your cock, or your tongue.” Do something for the divine creature bringing her to the high heavens.

“I would love to fuck her, but I’d hate to distract her when she is doing such a fine job.” Aegon passes a hand over his wife’s hair. “Could you take me in your mouth?”

“Of course, your grace.” Chérie licks her lips, slacking her jaw to accommodate his length. She sucks him with vigor, vocalizing her appreciation for the Princess’s work around his cock. Her peak is met swiftly, as is Aegon’s.

Y/N leans away from her cunt with a triumphant grin. “How was it?”

Chérie’s right arm is slung over her eyes. “Heavenly. Now get up here so I might repay you.”

“My darling wife does like to squirm.” Aegon warns, situating Y/N between his legs with one of hers over each of his, leaving no part of her to the imagination. “I will keep her still for you.”

Y/N sighs, clutching at his forearms.

“Even your cunt is beautiful, your grace.” Chérie slides one finger into her warmth, pumping slowly as her mouth meets her slick.

“Thank you.” Y/N clunks her head back against Aegon’s shoulder. He is right after all, she does like to squirm. The inability to do so is dizzying, especially as Chérie adds a second finger; stroking slow and deep against the sweet spot within her.

“How is that, Princess?” Chérie murmurs.

“Good,” Y/N gasps, writhing as best she can in Aegon’s hold.

“Poor thing, there’s nowhere to go, is there?” Aegon nuzzles the side of her face.

Y/N shifts again, “fuck.” One of her hand reaches back to fist in his hair as the other snakes down to the woman lapping at her.

Chérie hums, taking the princess’s pearl into her mouth and flicking over it with her tongue.

“Please,” Y/N cries, to her or to him. Whoever will listen. The pleasure so blinding it hurts. “Please, please.”

“Please what, my heart?” Aegon chuckles, “use your words.”

Y/N tries again, tears falling over her cheeks. “Please.”

Aegon feels the tense of her muscles, the shortness of her breath, the sound of her cries. “Come undone for us, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” He tightens his arms around her waist, kissing the side of her face to gentle her.

Her peak is white hot, Y/N swears she meets the gods as she crests it.

“Good girl.”

She’s vaguely aware of Aegon’s fingers in her hair as the mattress dips and Chérie sits beside them.

“Sweeter than any wine.”

Aegon reels Chérie in for a kiss, licking into her mouth, tasting his wife on her lips. “She is a delicacy.”

“Indeed.”

When Y/N is lucid enough, she lulls her head to the side, watching intently.

“Are you back with us, darling girl?”

She nods.

Chérie smirks, cupping Y/N’s cheek, kissing her once, then back to Aegon. Taking turns between them, until the Prince’s cock is aching and the Princess is dripping onto the sheets.

“I need to be inside you.” Aegon whispers to his wife, who nods, enthusiastically. He lies back, with Y/N still resting on his chest. “Turn around for me.”

She does as she’s told, straddling his hips and pushing up on her knees.

Chérie is up near Aegon’s pillow, plush bottom lip caught between her teeth as she Princess takes her husband’s length in hand, lining him up with her entrance and sinking down.

Y/N’s pretty mouth hangs out, gasping in tandem with Aegon’s groan.

“Good girl, taking me like you were born for it.”

“I love you.”

Aegon’s expression softens, “as I love you.”

“May I do something for you?” The Princess would hate for their guest to feel cast aside.

“No, but I can.” Aegon grins, “hop up here, on my face.”

Chérie laughs, “you are very kind, your grace.” She hovers over his face for a moment, turned towards his lovely bride.

“Get down here, you awful thing.” Aegon huffs, pulling her cunt down to his waiting mouth.

“Fuck,” Chérie cries.

Aegon grants her no reprieve, lapping at her slick until it coats his face. Free hand squeezing his wife’s hip as she moves over his cock.

Chérie sighs, leaning forward to catch her kiss swollen lips. Swallowing the Princess’s cries and replacing them with her own.

Y/N cups the other woman’s breasts, teasing her nipples with the palm of her hands.

Chérie bucks against Aegon’s tongue, earning her a little love tap from the prince.

“Be good.” He murmurs against her cunt, “or I will stop.”

“Forgive me, your grace.” Chérie pants. “Your wife is so lovely.”

Aegon hums against her, in agreement.

“You are lovely,” Y/N breathes, fucking Aegon faster; harder as the pads of his fingers press into her flesh. “He’s always asking to put his mouth on me, that way.” She motions to Chérie, perched over Aegon’s face as he feasts on her. “Is it nice? Perhaps I should indulge him.”

“It is very nice, your grace.” Chérie leans forward, sucking one of the princess’s nipples into her mouth. “If your husband wants for nothing but your cunt in his face, know that you are well loved. You should very much indulge him, the both of you will be grateful.”

Y/N releases out a high pitched whimper as Aegon thrusts up to meet her, bending his knees for leverage.

She clenches around him like mad, Aegon himself on the precipice of bliss. With the telltale fluttering of his wife’s peak, he redoubles his efforts on Chérie. She comes undone on his tongue.

Y/N continues rocking against him, the warmth of his spend filling her. When she has milked him dry, she rolls off, collapsing onto the mattress. Catching a glimpse of Aegon’s grin as Chérie moves from his face.

It takes only a moment with the Princess resting against his chest for the Prince to find sleep, releasing an ungodly snore.

“Well then,” Y/N laughs, “I hope you don’t mind if we stay a while.”

“As long as you’d like.” Chérie stares up at the ceiling.

“Do you enjoy your work here?”

The woman smirks, “I enjoy you very much, Princess.”

“But…on a whole, do you?”

“The coin is good and the hours are short.“ Chérie lifts a shoulder.

“What did you want to be?” Y/N wonders.

“Your grace?”

“Before you began working here, what did you want to be?”

Chérie sighs, reaching across Aegon to twist a bit of the princess’s hair around her finger. “I can’t recall. Though my mother always hoped I’d be a serving girl to a high born lady.”

“What happened to your mother?” Y/N asks, “if you don’t mind.”

“She has been gone for some years now, since before I was eight and ten. She caught a chill and never recovered.”

“I am very sorry.”

“Tis not your fault, Princess. It happens more often than you’d think.”

“You might be my lady,” Y/N offers, “in waiting.”

“Your grace?”

“If it pleases you.”

Aegon taglist: @niyahnotnia @oh-you-mean-me

[anachronismstellar]

...... Like I know it might not be the best times but I can offer yall a sqh 12/12 achievement fic in these tiring times? :(

[sleepy-fiction]

Like Vampires Do.

Alucard Tepes x vampire!reader NSFW

syn: your lady Erzsebet was killed, so you venture to revenge her death by killing your ex-lover Adrian Tepes. What you fail to consider are old, bitter feelings of unprocessed heartbreak to peak through your scheme. Through the shared regrets of the failures of your relationship, you come face to face to what you're scared of the most. Love and Adrian Tepes. and u fuck like dogs too but that's beside the point

tags: bdsm, knife play, blood play, hate sex, cunnilingus (male receiving), breeding kink, freaky dynamic, reader has a fear of love, alucard has a rejection fear, sadistic reader, mostly bottom alucard

a/n: PROOFREAD. this was a fun post!! love u whimpering men. also I ended up changing the plot while writing, so the intro might be a little jaded, but over all it should smoothly transition to the new plot.

6.8K WORDS

Alucard, now that he is over three hundred, is attractive in the way observing his every move is a treat, but to be physically intertwined with him is a different story. He is attractive in the way blooming flowers are, how they glisten and glow, having their own aura and status. With eyes brimming towards the future, overcome with prowess. Alucard three hundred years ago had most of his humanity still within him, it's easy to see how the two of you could intertwine. But now he's more vampire than he is human, and how do vampires love? Do vampires truly have soft spots for eachother? And is he worth spending the rest of your eternal life with?

These are the questions that run through your mind as your greedy eyes peered out from the shadows of leaves. You were in Paris, brought along by the sounds of revolution, by the death of your lord Drolta and your precious leader, Erzsebet. And also, by the news that spread about the Alucard stationed in Paris.

You didn't feel you belonged here, not after all this time, not after all the blood spilt your hands. Nothing but crippling anxiety built up in your belly, the bile taste like poison through your vampiric teeth.

You've known Alucard before.

Back when you were human.

The two of you had met on your travels to India. You can easily remember the nights rolling around in silk satin. The warmth of his flesh and fading blonde strands against your bare skin. You remember the ecstasy of presenting your inventions and knowing that somewhere in the crowd lied your partner, Alucard. But you knew him as Adrian Tepes.

You also rememver how quickly all of the bliss went to shit.

You can clearly picture the night when Hindi vampires hailed from the sky. The fear, the trepidation. How your throat logged up, your eyes glossed over in affright.

You remember how Alucard grabbed you by the window of your estate-- but you, too panicked, too terrified, couldnt think straight and fought against him. You didn't listen, more so, couldn't hear him over the buzzing in your ears. So your physically weak body commanded you to fight against him to sit-- just for a moment all you needed was to sit down. Catch your breath.

But, you didn't listen.

Nay, you couldn't hear.

You remember the piercing feeling of--

You winced bitterly. Your hands flew to touch the burnt eclipse symbol on your forehead. Your hands shook, your heart drumming. It was better to stay focused.

But on what? Your mind was racing.

The atmosphere of Paris was lively, the night life was full of partying, as the smell of wine doft around the air. The city was full of glowing lights. You quietly stepped down the stone streets, careful to pull the heavy cloak over your face, and being ever more to hide your fangs.

You traveled down to a bar, following your most primal senses, and finding yourself peering in through the window. There, in the hubub of merry and warm lights, you could see him.

The Alucard.

Your Adrian Tepes.

Your breath fails you.

He's ever the more gorgeous than what he was before. His skin flushed an unnatural white, complimenting to his hair, now completely dull of blonde and bordering delicate sliver. His eyes were soft and doting, as he smiled at the bartender, engaged in a conversation your sharp ears could squander.

It was more so him listening, than saying a word.

You bit your lips, glossy tears brimming your eyes. You should walk in and slay him right now.

Slay him for your master.

Slay him for your h... Heartbreak.

Meekly, pitifully, your hand reached up to stroke the glass, guilt bursting through your body. But even though glass, your hand seemed to sear away from him. Even through glass, his sunshine seemed to burn your moonlit hands. No longer could you walk the day light the way you did before.

You are a creature of the night now. Undeserving to even try for the light.

Forlorn, bitter, and forgotten. Capable of only evil. And that is your reasoning for why you did what you had to do. You did what you had to when Erzsebet chose you. You did what you must, when you bathed in her holy blood.

Alucard has to accept it.

No, he's moved on by now. He doesn't even think of you after all this time.

Yet you could not.

By all law and by all reasoning you should be in there right now, either scorched to death by his paws, or destroying him in yours-- for your dead mistress's sake. But for some reason, now, one hundred years later, your body seems to forsake itself. It and everything you believed in.

Your teeth chattered.

There was too much blood on your hands now.

You could hear the bells of melancholy solitude.

Your fists clenched tightly.

Yea, and must you--

Suddenly, a voice calls out, "I know he's even more daunting in person," a hum trailing after her words. You turn in a shock, your eyes finding a small blonde girl dressed in pink, her hands folded as she stared through the window next to you. Her serious eyes fixated on the Alucard, her lips parted, the faintest air of a flush tinting her pale cheeks.

You swallowed thickly. You spoke, "Why- Yes." Seeing that she was no threat, you simply tugged your hood further. Your gaze averting back to the window.

She continues, "he has this aura. This presence... It brims with..."

"The cry of solitude," you mutter, unable to stop your pitiful hand from touching the glass once more. "Lonely little eyes, lonely stare," you whisper.

Look at you. Begging from your insides for him to turn and look at you.

She cackles, stepping behind you, "Yes, like an abandoned puppy." You suddenly feel magic swelling behind you. But before you can act, the little girl growls, "Move an inch and I'll cut out your throat," she spits.

You freeze on command, your eyes racing back to get a glimpse of her.

She grins, "I'm not stupid. Seriously. Who hangs around in a cloak at night mere days after the slaughter of thousands? Vampires are too predictable... Do you know how many of your kind has staged useless revenge attacks here? I'm not letting you get near Alucard. Ever."

Your eyes redirect themselves to the window, where Alucard parts with the bartender with a gracious smile. Your eyes clench close, savoring the memory behind your eyelids. You speak, your voice barely above a whisper, "If this must be my death, then so be it. For the glory of my lady Erzsebet--"

Yet fate smiles on you.

Before you could finish, you hear that husky, melachonly voice call, "Maria?"

It's slow and smooth, husky and rich.

Just as it was all those years ago.

Your heart caught itself in your throat. You should have never dropped your guard.

As the girl, who you assume is Maria, turns to face him with a zealous fire abrupting out her tongue, you shrink into a bat and take off to the night.

Being the luckier sort, you where able to escape.

Though you didn't dare glance at, him, you could feel the unmistakable burn of his body.

Alucard Tepes.

--

When the next night came around, you thought all of your juvenile feelings would pass. You thought seeing once would be enough; but your body ached until sunset, able to even sleep a bit during the day. You tossed and turned in the grass of the outskirts of the city, clawing at your chest, twisting and turning, trying to stop the cries that burnt down your cheeks; the wails that accompanied them.

After hours of agonizing.

You decided your pain must be stemming from losing your lady Erzsebet. How she stirs within you.

The guilt.

Of Erzsebet.

Nothing more or less.

"I- I don't know what I am anymore,"

"Let me tell you, please. I can tell you,"

You hissed at the memory, knees weak. Regardless of the omen, you took flight into the setting sky.

You found yourself on the balcony of one of the rooms in the castle. Your soul seemed to guide you to this particular one. Never have you doubted your instincts. The windows were open, the curtains flowing in the soft breeze. Your eyes honed in on the white figure, dressed in sleeping attire, latches on the front of his chest barely tied, revealing the delicious skin.

You stood still.

You knew that he could sense you.

But he continued to write, a small candle illuminating his face and letter.

You stepped into the room, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains. The room smelled of him, smelled of aged vanilla, and a hint of spiced rum. Your fingers trailed down the fabric of the curtain. It was rough to the touch, no doubt made to block sunlight. Yet still you could hear the wanton scribbles of ink on paper.

You spoke, "I've come to kill you."

Alucard abruptly stopped. He rose his head, slowly turning to lay eyes on you. He blinks once, then twice; his soft lashes lidded over his eyes. He spoke, "Step into the light."

Intoxicating was the sound of his voice, the breath of his commands.

You obeyed, inching deeply closer. As close as you could without being burned by the radiance of his skin. Which, for you, was right at the edge of where the candle light could meet you.

You watch Alucard's face twinge up.

An expression your body only knew as disappointment.

You were bathed in blood the day you became a vampire. No-- You were addicted to it. Even now, to satisfy your hunger, you drink human blood twice a year. Anything to prevent your previous uncontrollable calamity.

You slaughtered so many.

Unable to hear Alucard.

Unable to hear Adrian.

You told yourself you needed to find yourself and hid from him. Going to the corners of the world where he wouldn't find you. And then finding yourself worshipping a woman who promised to feed your uncontrollable addiction. To turn the world into an endless night, that you may drink as much as you wanted.

Hell.

You discovered your body had the taste for men's blood over women's. Something adverse to most of vampire society. It made you feel better. At least you weren't slaughtering the defenseless.

It was only after continuous mental failures that Erzsebet forced you to become clean. She locked you up somewhere in Chukotka, letting perma-frost deal with you.

And you came out even more power hungry than how you started.

Yes.

There was countless deaths on your hands.

You weren't misled. Although, yes, a part of you was. But there was an even larger part of you that acted of its own accord. A part of you that you didn't know that you couldn't control. You were fully a vampire, not half.

You want to eat flesh and drink blood.

Not the blood of pigs, or chickens, or cows.

Human men's.

So there you stood with a face of stone, holding a dagger in your right hand.

"Closer. I cannot see you... Come closer," Adrian called.

But you didn't fall to his will this time.

"Your hood... At least remove it... May I see the face of the vampire who wishes to kill me," he whispers. Truth was, Adrian already knew it was you. He had a feeling when he felt Maria's magic, and seeing the glimpse of your form fluttering away into the night, he knew that whoever it was was quite the peculiar vampire.

He promised Maria that he'd go after you, and that she need not to worry. But he knew whoever it was would be back soon. Just. He didn't expect it to be you. Only after hearing your voice did it all make sense.

Truly, this all was a trap, he had his sword floating meters above his head out of sight. And it was aimed right at you.

You obeyed this time, slipping off your hood to reveal your face. His eyes twinge in horror and delight. Delight, at the nostalgic sight of your beauty. The softness of your face, the sweetness of your eyes, those lips he familiarized all to well with. Horror, at the almost faded symbol engraved onto your forehead. At the lack of life or passion in your eyes and the deep eyebags that accompanied it. Horror, of how your pretty eyes had turned red- a token of your endless bloodlust.

It was so painfully beautiful to look at.

He knew you were smart, and judging by your eye color, he knew you'd be a difficult vampire to fight. But despite it all, his guard had fell to ashes.

"(Y/n)," he whispered.

"I haven't heard that name in a while... My queen gave me a new one," you spoke. "The person you knew before is dead. And only I remain."

"Don't do this, you don't want this," Adrian pleads. Unexpectedly, he stands up from the table, his eyes lost in empathy. A gaze that seemed to sear your body worse.

You flinch backward in surprise, but he continued towards you.

You stand your ground, and as his presence draws near, his chest inches away from touching yours, you pull your dagger to rest against his neck.

But he's close, awfully so. His cosmic aura radiating against you, his beautiful luscious hair coating his shoulders, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

You only hardened yours, not allowing a droplet of emotion to slip through, not even for a second.

Adrian swallows thickly, feeling the blade caress his skin for every movement. You were shutting down on him, something he's seen before. He saw it the best the day he tried to save you, and you blindly shut away from him, unable to see the rush of hindi vampires barreling out towards the both of you.

Selfishly, he didn't care about saving that city that day; he only wanted you.

He would've took you so far, he would've cared for you until the end of your days.

He yearned after you for so long.

It was his fault you were swarmed. There were too many to count. Too many to fight.

He didnt mean to leave you in that hoard.

He knew the world still needed him, he couldnt die saving you.

But... He came back for you.

Hell, it was too late.

His eyes weaken, tears brewing up, "I deserve it, my love. I've forsaken you- I failed you."

What you didn't expect was those words.

You push him towards the bed as he speaks, forcing him to sit and keeping your blade against his neck as he did so.

"My love," he cries pitifully, his hand weakly grabbing your wrist that held the dagger. "Dying by your hands is befitting. I've lived for too long," he whispers. His beauty glows, shining brighter for every tear.

You push him again, and he lays back onto the bed, gorgeous locks sprawled out. Automatically, he seems to crawl backward, only his feet dangle off the edge. You force yourself on top of him, your hand by his head, the other holding the dagger to his neck, with your knees on either side of him.

Staring at your dead face was worse. He didn't know how to please you. He begs, "Please, my love... Speak to me... My (y/n), my sweet..."

If he failed anyone the most on the world, it was you. You were the frankstein that his mishaps created.

He knew it then, he should have killed you. Spare you of the new life that awaited you. He knew it when you shook in his arms, how you spoke with bloody fangs and an even bloodier chin. He couldn't do it. So selfishly he left you alive.

This was all his fault.

You sliced a small cut on the side of his neck, shallow enough for blood to ooze. He whimpers out, eyes frantically shutting, his knee surging in distress. You dive down, licking a delicious stripe on his neck. His blood is deliciously sweet with a tart aftertaste. Your free hand cups his neck as you bury your nose into his flesh, fangs threatening to puncture his skin as you slurped and licked.

He groans out, head arched backwards into the plush sheets, hands weakly grabbing fistful of your cloak. In his desperation to grip onto you, the cloak slips off, so his hands spring onto your shirt instead. A trail of delicate whimpers and groans mewl from his pink lips.

You can't take it anymore, and puncture your fangs into his flesh. He cries out, fistfuls of your shirt growing intense wrinkles. You pull out your fangs and slurp and suck out his crimson as it explodes to meet you, body growing franatic on the taste. Your knees weaken as you hapzardly sit down on him. Beneath the hilt of your ass, you can feel his achingly hard cock, your freehand grips his flesh in primal surprise.

He turns slightly, forcing you out of his neck to look at him. It's quite the sight to see you, lips and chin stained with his blood. "(Y/n)... (Y/n)," he's begging pitifully, his face flushed. You don't let him speak for long, as you bury your lips against his, creating sweet music.

The sound of liplocking overtakes the crisp air, as you slurp up his tongue as he feeds it to you. Your hands fall lower onto his body, caressing down his muscular shoulders, your dagger meeting his chest. You break away, slicing another shallow cut on his pale chest.

He groans and arches into the blade. You sink quickly into the taste, licking it up bountifully.

You pull back to admire your work. Adrian laid sprawled beneath you, his gorgeous hair mingling with the white linen, his mouth agape and flushed, your saliva trailing from the corners of it. His neck sliced and punctured, as the remains of his blood dribbled onto the sheets. He was beautiful.

You softly grind your hips down against his, moaning out quietly, licking the blade as you did so. Adrian cried out, "W-Wait," and grabbed your hips, locking them in place.

You looked at him, and confusion poisoned his features.

"T-Talk to me," he grunts.

Your eyes narrow down on him, "What is it to talk about, Adrian? Our bodies want eachother."

Adrian shuts his eyes close, pain dotting his features. He sputters breathlessly, "I can't do this-- I'm too old... I can't be spontaneous like b--"

You quirk, "You cannot stay up anymore?"

His face brims red, "No! I can-- It's just... (Y/n), I don't want to just sleep with you and forget it-- I loved you... I lo-- care for you... I want you. I don't want to forget you."

Unsettling feeling springs up in your chest. "I'm loyal to no one," you spit. "You killed my master." You pull away from him, dagger still in hand, as you slide off the bed.

Adrian shoots up, rushing after you as you continue toward the window. He captured your hips within seconds, barely dodging the slice you swung as you turned around. He took the opportunity to pull you close, grabbing your wrist and holding your dagger back from another slice.

You groan and struggle like a wild cat. He sinks into your wrist, softly placing a kiss under where his thumb held you. He drug his nose upwards to your palm, where it hit the hilt of the dagger. In surprise, you dropped it, and it landed with a clamor. He follows up your hand until he rests his cheek on your open palm, forcing you to softly carress the skin.

Your breath hitches, that feeling springing up more and more. You try to claw away from it, your free hand to swing at his chest, your foot raising up to kick him uncoordinatedly.

Hurt flashes through Adrian's eyes, but he lets you go. Unexpectedly, you flew back into the closed windows, your heel getting caught on the curtains, making you slip back, falling on your butt to the floor.

In this vulnerable position, Alucard stood above you, hands behind his back, his gown giving away glimpses of his sleek legs. Frantic, your head begins to spin, as your eyes drag back and forth over his body. You whimper out headless sounds as you grab onto the curtain for support. Desperate to gain some sanity.

His smell, his taste, the sight of him.

It wasn't just overcoming lust, but instead this weird feeling from the depths of your brain, crying out. Some sort of emotional response. And emotions were the one thing you sought to control. What Erzsebet saw as a flaw in you.

Listening to your emotions.

Your eyes shut close, freezing up as you tenderly hold onto the curtain. Adrian's quiet, deathly so. You can feel his eyes draw in on you, and somehow it's worse than the fear.

He reaches and opens the window for you, the midnight breeze flying in as the glass door reveals the balcony you entered in from. You eyes pop open, glimpsing out towards the night sky.

Yet you can't bring yourself to leave either.

Your knuckles grow white.

"Leave," you hear him mutter, "You can leave..."

Your head whips to see him, an aura of empathy radiating off his form. All he sees is just another scared vampire.

But he knows if you leave, you might not ever return.

You've got too much of yourself to figure out.

You know that you should leave.

You slowly stand.

His heart burns and he looks off at the floor.

You finally, finally speak, "I-I can't leave... Surely, I'll die." Your heart pounds at the words.

"I'll tell Maria about you," he whispers.

No. He didn't understand. You didn't mean it physically. This was horrifying. Having to explain what you wanted most. Frustrated tears pinged the corners of your eyes, your hands shaking. Stress overcoming your pinched eyebrows.

"Al-- Adrian... Adrian... Adrian," is all you can muster out, a pitiful plea. "Adrian I'll die--"

But before you could finish the sentence, you were involved into a strong embrace. You could hear his cries against your ears as he kept bitterly, your hands weakly holding onto the clothes that hang around his back.

"Stay here-- stay here forever," he yearns.

Your heart bursts. "O-Okay-- Okay Adrian,"

And just as the morning sun peaks in from the clouds, Adrian pulls you back into his dark room, and shuts the door.

You are pulled deeper and deeper into his midnight lair, pulled until your feet crawl against the bed, where he tucks you under with him, encasing you in his arms and in velvet sheets. He seems to swallow you whole, entrapped in his love with nowhere to go. With nothing but fear of rejection lingering him, he braves through it, softly peppering the back of your neck with subtle kisses.

And with nothing but the fear of love in your belly, you brave it, ragdolling and leaving yourself vulnerable to his affections, and also how they make you feel.

Your back is flush against his chest, his legs against the back of yours as he spoons you. He has a strong arm laid on your body. It hooks through your chest and rests his hands on place by your sternum and collarbone. He's holding you there, holding you as he whispers, painful affections and peppers' sweet kisses.

You focus merely on calming your stress, sucking in slow breaths, desperate to process the last hour with him. Its hard to think of anything at all, when you hear his smooth, husky voice calling out your name caressing and kissing you.

You wince and groan out, as his lips dip to the start of your back. His hand releases you to pull at the laces of your shirt, undoing it to reveal more of your back. Your skin is cold, but definitely not uncharacteristic of a vampire.

His large, warm hand caresses the skin, and you arch and sigh out. The warmth drags deliciously slow strokes up and down your sensitive back, his thumb trailing your spine. He reaches and pulls the shirt off one side of your shoulder as he dips into it to kiss it.

You whimper, tension feeling the area.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he whispers.

You try to figure out his intentions by saying that, but the only thing that seems to spring up is genuine care. Tears prick your eyes again. You hate to say there's only one thing your body wants to say. But you have to be vulnerable to let it take over. You wince, and with shaky breath, you spoke, "It wasn't your fault, Adrian..."

His hand slips under your shirt and touches your bare stomach, the warm feeling spreading as he slides up to your ribcage, still kissing at the beginning of your back and neck.

"I failed to protect you, I couldn't help you, I regret it so much," he whispers.

"I ran from you too, Adrian... It wasn't all your fault... I was addicted to human blood... And in the hours you were gone, I already feasted on hundreds with the rest," you whispered. "I wasn't going to give that up... Not even for you."

"But--"

"You were powerless before. You were powerless again... You may be strong, but you can not out number the thousands," you pause, struggling either the next set of words, "Besides... You already fought so hard for me... It was..."

Adrian stops, eyes trailing to you.

"Admirable..." Your tone was fluttering.

He seems satisfied with the answer, as he sinks down, unbuckling your belt, and pulling out oneside of it. You grunt as his hands slip into your pants, large hand going to squeeze the warmth of your inner thighs. Despite it all, you still felt an overwhelming sense of peace. He continues to kiss his lips. You lick yours, tasting his sweet, dried blood.

You ask, "Do you want me, Alucard?"

He whines in your ears, "Of course I do." He's like an excitable puppy, just waiting to get off on you. And like a dog, you feel him start to grind against your ass.

A pleased hum escapes you. Within seconds, you transform into a bat, using it to reappear, once again ontop of him. He gasps in surprise, turning over to face you. You grin, caressing his cheek. "Look at my face, you think you can fuck this? Does this not detest you," you lean in with a hiss.

It was your turn to decloth him, as you raised his sleeping gown up higher and higher, revealing more of his pale skin. He's taken aback for a second, his eyes flickering between your ruby red ones and the fading sigil on your forehead. You open your mouth, baring your bloody fangs.

He whimpers, objectively bucking up into your hand.

How pitiful.

You grin sharply, by now his gown was pulled up to his stomach, his unmarked flesh ever so delicious in your eyes. You also took note that he wore no undergarments, his cock half hard as it arose. You sunk down on your knees between his legs, lowering yourself to his dick and laying your hands on his hips.

He grew harder in your stare. You scratched the side of his hip, the faintest dewlet of blood dropping on your finger tip. You brought it up to your mouth, staring deep into his eyes as you licked it away. He groaned, bucking upwards again.

"Ah, ah, ah... Patience, Adrian," you whispered.

He nodded powerlessly, his dewy hair clinging to his neck and face. You bring your lips to his cock, cupping the base of it with both hands, and misting your breath against the sensitive rod. His cockhead pulses towards you lips, you giggle at the sight. Finally, you sink your nose against the side of him, drinking in his scent.

"Oh- fuck," He curses, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. But he can't bring himself to look away. You were enchanting.

You open your mouth all the way, using the front of your fang with your front teeth to drag the smooth side of your teeth against his flesh. He whimpered and cried out, sloppily dropping a heavy hand on your head. You stop just before his head, where you tongue his tip's hole, using the sharper part of your muscle to do so.

He wains, trying his best not to fist your hair for you. Being so good for you.

You turn your head to the side again, sucking the side of his shaft, slurping and swaying against him with your tongue. He was more than hard by now, his dick long and skinny, no shorter than nine monstrous inches, a testament to his vampire side. It was a flushed pale pink, growing red by the second.

You let go of him, and his cock flops back against his stomach with a smack. You laugh, picking him up again with your index finger just to see him fall, again, and again. Adrian doesn't complain, merely, he uses his freehand to grip the sheets beside him, restraining himself all for you.

Once playing with his cock proved enough, you sunk into his balls, burying your nose into him, and ferociously slurping, sucking, and licking him up. He moans out in shock, as you use your hands to stroke his inner thighs comfortably. "Aaah- (y/n)," he seems to stutter out your name. As if a simple plea would make you take him seriously.

You slurp one into your mouth before the other, then you release and drag a long stripe upwards to his cock, and then to his cockhead. You scoop his dick up one last time before finally, finally, guiding him straight into your mouth. You hallow out your cheeks around his length, sucking him, and running your tongue briskly around the bottom of him. You bob your head pacedly to the sound of his wanton moans, using your hands to please what your mouth failed to reach.

Adrian's jaw falls completely slack, his grip tightening in your hair, wanton moans following out of his lips. It had been at least forty years since he had last had sex, the thrills of it burned his pent-up mind. Without thinking, he slowly began to thrust into your warm mouth, sliding himself back and forth against your soft, hot, moist taste buds. You grunt, adjusting your head to accept him better.

He mumbles, "Sorry- Sorry." But its met with an angry stare.

Well. If he's already in trouble, he might as well please himself while he can. His thrusts gain speed, his head hitting the back of your throat.

You wheeze around him, dropping your hands to grip his inner thighs, careful to not squeeze his cock. He takes this small adjustment as an agreement from you as he furthers all nine inches of himself into your deep throat. You can feel him tickle far into your body, a feeling you almost would've forgotten. Only Adrian's ever fucked you like this, and painfully, it sent pleased tingles down your body. Despite how you gagged and choked about him. The sensation was replaceable.

You were vice against him, a sign he was further than where he should, but hell it was exhilarating. His moans grew louder, his head doting back between looking at you and being lost in bliss. His thrusts began to slow as he slipped out of your deep throat, from your mouth, and came right as he slid out of your lips.

You gasped in surprise, as his warmth sprayed your nose, lips, cheeks, some of it dribbling down your chin. You cough, angrily wiping his cum off your face with your forearm. "How considerate of you, Alucard," you grunt, staring at the sticky fluids against your skin.

He merely laughs, "Do forgive me, love." Angrily, you slip off the bed. He calls out, "N-No wait I di--"

"Calm yourself," you hum. You slip out of your clothes, dropping your pants to the floor, sliding out of your boots, and pulling your shirt over your head. Your ruined undergarments fell just as quick. You briskly returned ontop of him, pulling up his gown to his ribcage. You suddenly pause, "Or? Did you not want me to undress?"

How could you say something so cruel when he was only looking at you during that whole process, softly squeezing himself to stay hard, and biting his lip when he saw your bare ass. He's restricting himself for you, can't you see how good he is? All it takes is one pitiful, glossy eyed look from him and you know what he's thinking. "Of course I- By all means, (y/n)," he tries to play it cool.

Your grin worsens. You grab him by the chin, as your freehand lines him up to your hole. Eagerly, you watch as his face constructs, eyebrows pinching forward in delight, sultry eyes staring up at you, lips parted to moan. You kiss your hole against his tip, puckering to seal the deal. He thrusts forward, dipping his head into your honey walls.

You moan, soon, giving all the way in and slipping down on his skinny cock. Your eyes fly to space as you take more and more of him, feeling his cock tickle your gut, until bottoming out. In sync, the two of you moan sharply at the feeling. Your head drops forward in bliss.

"(Y/n)," he sighs, his hands reaching up and guiding your hair away from your face. Last he remembers, you were never put out of commission just by bottoming out on him. Unless, you too were just as pent-up as he was.

You gaze up at him, humming. He becons you closer, so you drop his jaw and pick up your head. He takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek, just beneath your left eye. You giggle, "Aw, how cute."

Immediately you bounced on him, slowly dragging his long cock against your walls. Your head grew heavy again, as you rested your forehead against his collarbone. "Aaah, Adriaan," you hiss, your moans drowning out his whimpers.

You plunge down on his length, feeling him stretch about your gut, and you clench around his cock. That all it takes before Adrian loses it, frantically thrusting and bucking up into you. You cry out in surprise, "A-Adrian," your moan closer to an ecstatic wail.

He's speedy, relentless, his length seeming to make up for his lack of precision. Your body felt completely stuffed. He stimulated parts of you that where never before touched, at least, not by anyone but his cock. His hands gripped chunks of your bare hips, his eyes fucked out and lips spread, his fangs flashing in the disarray.

Your hand leaned forward, resting your palm against the bedframe for support, your head laying next to his by now, ass bounced about adverse to your accord. It was pathetic, as drool dabbled the corners of your lips. "A-Adrien-- Good- Good boy," you mewl, and it only sends him into a worse frenzy.

Through the barrage of frantic, doggish thrusts, your message gets sent straight to Adrian's fangs, a primal urge over taking him. He sits up, stopping for second, to lay his back against the pillow. You dazedly peek up from his neck, but quickly, he starts up thrusting again. Only this time, before you could even moan, he leans down and punctures your shoulder. He doesn't withdraw his teeth to draw blood. No, it's more so to lock you in place. His fangs split your flesh in second, the primal sensation causing you to arch and moan, grabbing chunks of his white locks.

Vampires fuck like dogs.

You reach forward with your free hand and dig your sharp nails into the flesh of his shoulder, drawing blood. Your brain turned off, and your lust fueled off the scent. His thrusts lose all coordination, and if it weren't for his length, he would have slipped out a dozen times by now.

With a deep, whiney voice, he husks, "I-I'm cumming- C-cumming-- I'm cumming," voice interrupted by your skin for every thrust.

"Cum you bastard," you snarl. No way you'd let him have all the fun, as you started to bounce downwards, fucking yourself on him in time with his senseless barrage. It's only through you that his thrust meets some sort of rhythm, as you clean up all his doggish mishaps.

Fuck, you'd be lying to say your climax wasn't rapidly approaching. Hell, it seemed to make you angrier. Next time you'll really fuck him up good.

With a cry, hot semen floods your warm insides, but you can't even look back, as Alucard's fangs trap your shoulder in place. His thrusts stop as he rides out his high, and it only worsens your agenda against him because you haven't even came yet.

"Bastard, have you lost all manners," you ruin his afterglow, as you ferociously fuck down on him again, quick and speedy, replicating it from before. A sadistic glow seems go brim your face, your moans full of delight. Adrian whimpers and whines, overstimulation causing him to buck, squirming away beneath you. Despite it, he doesn't loosen his death grip on your hips, nor does he remove his fangs.

As your moans spiked, he closed his ears to engulf the airy sound of you reaching your orgasm. You cry out, your knees stupidly giving out, bottoming out on him as you exploded. You dropped your head weakly forward, not that it could go anywhere, but still keep your iron grip in his white locks and your nails embbeded in his flesh.

You two were really doing this. Stubborn fucks, mating like vampires and engaging in a childish ritual. Whoever pulls away their fangs or claws first loses power to the other, a primal game as old as time that quickly overrides your natural senses.

Your nails possesively sink deeper into his flesh, unaware of how your red eyes flickered and bloomed a deeper shade. And for the first time in your life, you heard Adrian grunt and growl like a dog, having the upper hand with his teeth embedded in you. His grip on your hips were tight enough to crush and hurt. It only makes your insides flutter around him.

You pull at his locks, forcing his head back. He whimpers, fangs flying out with him, as a fountain of your blood springs out. It's your turn to finally release him, as you lean back, cupping a hand over your wound. You laugh, "Ah-hah..."

Your beautiful crimision leaks down your chest in waves, coating your nipples. He salivates and slaps a hand over himself. "Drink, my love. You've earned it," you mewl. With your freehand you lather yourself in your blood, caressing and squeezing your body as if it were any expensive lotion.

His eyes shut, hips bucking into you. You mewl. He groans, "I have never drank blood. Not once in my three-hundred-years of living."

You blink in surpise. "Aah... Is that why you didn't draw from me." Due to your vampiric healing, the wound closed, leaving only blood to remain. Your hand goes to join the other, as it scoops up a stripe of blood and guides it to your mouth. "It's gooddd," you cackle.

"I know, I can smell it," he grunts.

"Fine," you sadly part with his dick, sliding off the bed and grabbing your cloak from earlier; patting yourself dry. You can hear the bed shift behind you, feel eyes burning against your ass.

"You'll stay, at this castle, won't you?" He asks.

"For as long as I can before that girl comes to kill me," you laugh.

"Then, retreat to my castle."

"The one by the belmont settlement? Surely they'll kill me worse," you roll your eyes.

He grins, stepping out of bed and encasing you in a hug. He burrows his face against you, whispering, "Then I'll have to hide you. You can't leave this very room. M- My pet..."

Your eyelid twitches.

You know he's just trying to rile you up. But still, your fists clench.

"Oh hell, no," you grumble as you shove him back onto the bed.

His hearty laughter fills the air.

You get on top of him, raising meaningless fists (ones that weren't going to hurt him in the first place), that are captured by his hands. He laughs, the sound as pure as sunlight.

It makes your face scrunch playfully, "I am going to get you, I really am. I'll kill you first, Alucard."

He grunts, cupping your ass and tossing you off. You cry, playfully landing on your side. He crawls on top of you, a gorgeous beauty, and he pulls his luxurious white strands back away from his face. "I'd like to see you try," he mutters, but your eyes move to the scar across his chest.

"Mmh," you moan, eyes lidding.

"Shall we go again, my love?"

"I think I would like that."

[solbaby7]

"Hey babes! Can I get a frozen Pina colada with a salt rim please!..." (slides extra 20$ across counter top) "... Maybe a little extra salty...😉"

🫡now your speaking my language🫡🍹🧂🧂🧂

[ “are you crazy? we’re in public” “then you’d better keep quiet” + cassian + smut ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Cassian was the kind of male your mother warned you about.

With his charming smiles and cheeky dimples. All that thick muscle bulging against worn leather. When you close your eyes, you can still smell him; sandalwood laced with the bitter tang of iron.

A pretty storm.

The perfect disaster.

Cassian was controlled chaos, the kind that sweeps through and fucks your life up while you’re too blinded by their beauty to notice. And just when the fog clears over your eyes, they’ve already moved onto the next best thing and your left cleaning up the carnage.

You’d been warned, yet you ignore it anyway—hypnotized by those welcoming hazel eyes and all too pliant under hands strong enough to break fragile bone.

He uses it to his advantage, manhandling you about; placing you exactly as he wants you. Legs splayed over his lap. Tits warm and supple in his palms when he subtly gropes at you, a dripping cunt pooling arousal in his lap. “Cassian,” A gasp pulls free when the pad of his fingers drag through your folds, voice shaky when you glance about the room. “Are you crazy? We’re in public—someone will hear.”

“Then, you’d better keep quiet peach because I’m not stopping.” Muscles tense in response, back bowing to conceal the thick arm tucked beneath your dress. His wrist flicks casually, lazily; two fingers keeping you spread while another applies a dizzying amount of pressure to your bud. One knee jerks at the stimulation, knocking ever so slightly under the table before you remember where you are—the discretion required and as if on queue, Cassian mutters in your ear. “No one’s going to see either.”

Debatable.

But, he certainly makes it more difficult with his hulking figure swallowing you whole, every inch hidden by muscular shoulders and a broad wingspan.

You're lucky that gathered guests are too busy fawning over your High Lord and his Lady to notice that the commander of his armies was working two fingers into your leaky cunt. A blush burns along your cheekbones, spine stiff and breathing spotty when trying to pretend that the steady thrust of his digits inside you wasn't shooting lightening along your nerves.

A cold-sweat breaks out along your hairline, hips subconsciously rutting into the pleasure brought between your thighs. "This is insane," You huff out, the smell of fae wine assaulting your senses with its sweet notes--almost as intoxicating as the male responsible for your undoing. "Can't believe you're making me do this."

"Not making you do anything, peach." The pace of his fingers speeds up, a humiliating squelch sounding below fresh linens as your body shows just how weak your flesh is. It's infuriating how quickly Cassian gets you there; too aware of what makes you tick and using it to his advantage. "Not yet, at least."

Lips swell under the stress of your teeth biting into them but it's the only way to keep the whorish moans trapped on your tongue as you teeter the line of mind-numbing ecsasty.

It’s so close you can taste it. Eyes clenching shut. Mouth parted ever so slightly as fingers curl into the fabric bunched at your thighs. But right before the peak of pleasure can wash over you, the sound of a chair being pulled back draws your attention.

“Well brother,” A voice croons. “What do we have here?”

[misswynters]

Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

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The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders.

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

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© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena

[mythicmanuscripts]

Do you think omega Aemond despite trying so hard to fight being an omega would try to preen for his Alpha subconsciously? Like imagine he and his Alpha have gotten together and he cant help but spend a little extra time worrying that his hair isnt straight enough (we all know he straightens his hair 😅), his old clothes dont ‘fit’ so he *needs* to get newer and nicer ones that no one has seen before in a color you said made his skin look nice, and no, it is just a coincidence he has started hounding the other omega ladies for skincare tips.

Aw I love this idea!!!

Omega!Aemond below the cut. All my a/b/o content is tagged with 'a/b/o hotd' so if you don't want to see this type of thing just block that tag.

So firstly, from the moment Aemond spoke to you for the first time he was obsessed. He's just so... captivated? There's something about the way you take him seriously in a way most alphas don't, but at the same time you manage to also make him feel so well cared for. He always wants to be around you, and he starts to get grumpy and irritable when he hasn't seen you in a few days.

Basically from the moment he presented as an omega he has had alphas talk down to him and belittle him and assume he’s not as strong or smart as he is. (Side note, what if he claims Vhagar after he presents? Runs away and ends up with Vhagar who protects him?). It’s this history that makes him so unreceptive to any courting attempts. If one more person gifts him a rose and promises to take care of him then he’s actually gonna lose it.

Despite this, he's somehow completely oblivious to how he wants you to mate him? You’d think with his general distain for most alphas it would stand out to him immediately when there’s suddenly an alpha whose company he actually enjoys.

He mostly doesn’t realise this just because he honestly doesn’t even think of it. He doesn’t really think of anything when you’re around. Usually he’s constantly analysing every alpha in his vicinity, glancing at them all often to take note of where they are and trying to spot his quickest escape route. But with you it’s like that mistrusting part of himself just doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Head absolutely empty.

He's been pushing down his instincts for so long that he doesn't realise his desire to always be around you isnt just because he gets along well with you.

It's extremely obvious to everyone else of course, he's not exactly subtle. He goes from refusing to give any alphas the time of day to tripping over his own feet in his hurry to snag a seat next to you. And then just when they think he can't get more obvious, he starts asking for fashion advice and maybe even starts peaking into the kitchens to see how the servants cook so that he can make you something one day.

It’s especially obvious whenever he sees an opportunity to do something for you, and he’ll actually get upset and almost territorial over you if someone else does whatever he wanted to do? And this is all the way down to the most minor thing. He literally hissed at a servant who saw him reaching for the wine and assumed he wanted a cup of it to be poured.

Because no!!! No he didn’t want a cup to be poured he wanted to pour it for you!!! He’ll be all grumpy about it, acting irritated until you say his name and get his attention back on you then he almost immediately forgets about the servant.

Once you realise how much Aemond seems to love any compliments and acknowledgement you give him, you take special care to ensure you're saying nice things to him. Every single time you do his scent spikes and he blushes and sometimes you swear he's having to stop himself from purring.

He always takes note of the specific things you compliment him on and ensures to focus on them. When you realise this you start to use it to encourage self care for himself? You complement how well rested he looks, you thank him for that eating enough, you tell him you’re so proud of him for standing up for himself, etc.

And all throughout this he has absolutely no idea he’s falling for you.

In fact, he only notices when he realises one day how it’s been ages since some rich alpha came skipping into the castle with an offer of mating and a generic gift he’ll throw out immediately. Maybe it’s only at a big event that it finally comes out? Like there’s a massive celebration feast hosted with dancing and music and usually at least 10 alphas are all lined up to ask for a dance but this time not a single one approaches him.

It’s only after that evening that he realises everyone thinks he’s already taken by you.

Which…. Well they might not be 100% right but they certainly aren’t wrong either.

[imagines--galore]

legolas + n.6 please🙇‍♀️🙏👀

Summary: Never in your wildest dreams did you think Legolas, Prince Legolas of the Greenwood, would confess to you half drunk on elvish wine. With a little help from a fully drunk Dwarf. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Just some mention of drunken shenanigans. A/N: Alright so normally its always the reader who gets drunk and confesses, and I just wanted to flip it the other way around and see how it goes, so yeah. Here you go!

You peaked out from behind the tapestry where you had taken refuge.

Finding the hallway empty, you heaved a sigh of relief, before slowly stepping out and dusting whatever minor dust had collected on your dress.

You were avoiding your friends who had decided it would be in your best interest attend yet another feast that was thrown in honor of the return of the Prince. And though you loved spending time with Legolas, being under the scrutiny of the entire kingdom during a public event was not one you looked forward to.

Especially when you were afraid that your true feelings for Legolas would be discovered at any moment.

You certainly hadn't been discrete about them.

Then again you did not blame yourself. You had been caught up in the moment. The realization that he was standing in front of you. That he had not perished in the Battle against Mordor. That he had returned and the first person he had gone to meet was you.

And while your lips ached to meet his, you had settled for an embrace that was so intimate and sincere that several onlookers had actually blushed at the sight. What made your heart soar was that he returned the embrace with just as feeling and passion as you gave it. Your eyes stung with tears and all those months of worrying, of wondering, of hoping.

They all just dissipated.

Like the morning mist when the first rays of sun peaked through the branches of a tree.

As you leaned against a nearby pillar, a dreamy smile played about your lips as you raised a hand to your cheek, where he had placed his hand once the both of you had pulled back from the embrace.

Looking into his eyes wiped away any lingering doubts that this was a dream. His blue gaze was so full of hope that you felt your very heart burst.

You remembered how he had spoken of doing good for Mirkwood. How he had vowed that they would once again be known as Greenwood again. And now he had helped make that a reality.

With his hand on your cheek, he had opened his mouth to speak, but the arrival of the King had both your priorities shifting and you had both stepped away.

Though with how fast gossip traveled you knew the King was aware of you now. The Elleth his son had gone to see upon his return home after months.

Not his father.

You.

He had come back to you.

You chest raised in a silent sigh as you slowly began to move down the hallway. The feast was being held on the other side of the Kingdom, so you would not be running into anyone during your trek back to your rooms.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Loud boisterous laughter was what first alerted you to another presence. Before you could even think of hiding two figures had turned the corner and stood in your path.

One was short and obviously drunk as a lord given how he blearily peered up at you. This was the dwarf Gimli, who you knew to be Legolas's friend and someone who had fought in every battle against Mordor alongside him.

The other person, was none other then Legolas.

"Y/n." He exclaimed, blinking his eyes at you as if he had never seen you before. You gave a nervous little smile, raising a hand in greeting. "Ah! So this is the lass you spoke of." Gimli stated. His words were slurring but you could clearly make out what he was saying as he lumbered forward and gave you a quick bow.

"An honor to meet you My Lady." You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to be courteous despite his inebriated state. "I must say I feel as if I already know you given how much a certain Prince spoke of you during our travels together."

Never in your life had you seen Legolas be anything but calm and collected. He would laugh and make merry, sure. But nervous? Flustered. Those were not emotions you associated with him.

But in that moment, when Gimili said what he did, you watched in utter surprise as Legolas was rendered speechless and his cheeks grew pink. You couldn't help the giggle that fell from your lips as you watched him. Though you quickly looked away when he raised his gaze towards you.

Turning your attention back to the smiling dwarf you smiled kindly. "I hope they were all good things, Master Dwarf." Gimli was all too eager to comply to her silent question as he began to slur.

"Oh nothing but the best My Lady. Every spare moment we had to breath, this one here, would sing your praises. Of your beauty, good heart, lovely nature and how much you meant to him."

Now it was your turn to blush. A gentle smile pulled at your lips as you bit down on your lower lip, gazing at Legolas just from underneath your lashes. He was looking at you in the same manner once more.

Right before his father had called him away.

Gimli was still speaking, unaware of the looks being exchanged between the two elves. "He missed you lass, anyone could tell. And I said to him, you had best say your piece to the lass when you get back." He cleared his throat. "Of course at the time it was all about if we went back. But that is besides the point."

He turned his attention back to Legolas and slapped him on the back. Or as best as he could given his lack of height. He did managed to make Legolas stumble. "Now that you have a few drinks in you that do effect you lad, perhaps it has given you enough courage to confess." Legolas's eyes widened almost comically, prompting you to smother a smile behind your hand.

Chortling to himself, Gimli began to stride down the hallway. "I leave him in your capable hands, My Lady. I believe there is some elvish wine calling my name."

And with that he was gone.

Leaving you and Legolas alone.

"He is certainly an interesting dwarf." You said, feeling that perhaps it would be best if you broke the silence that was clearly making him uncomfortable. Elvish wine had the ability to loosen one's control over their emotions. Even the most stoic of elves. So it was no surprise that every emotion Legolas was feeling was evident that would've otherwise been concealed.

"That he is." He agreed, though the words were spoken in a strange tone, and suddenly you couldn't meet his eyes. What burned in them was too intense.

Brushing a loose piece of hair behind your ear you nodded. "I suppose you had best get some rest Legolas." You took a few steps to walk past him and let him continue on his way.

But just as you stepped next to him, his hand darted out, grasping your wrist and halting you in your steps.

Your breath hitched as you felt his strong grip against your skin. Your head turned, eyes dropping to where his hand was, before looking at him. He was still staring straight ahead.

Neither of you moved. And it would seem, neither of your breathed as you waited.

But for what?

"I have been holding something close to my heart for a long while and I can do so no longer for fear it shall consume me." He was speaking in elvish. He shook his head. "No. It has already consumed me."

Finally, he turned his head and a startled gasp fell from your lips as you caught sight of the near feverish look in his blue gaze. "You have consumed me."

Your lips parted, and it was your turn to stare at him. And that was all you could do.

All you could do was watch as he allowed his hand to gently grasp yours and bring it up to his lips. His breath was warm as he brushed his lips against the back of your hand. Never for a moment did his eyes leave yours.

And it was the sincerity and surety in those eyes that compelled you to finally find your voice. "Speak of what burdens your heart so, Legolas." You whispered, reaching up to affectionately rest a hand against the side of his face, just as he had done to you a few hours earlier.

He shook his head. "Not a burden. Never a burden." The wine seemed to be making it difficult for him to find the right words to say. "All I desire is for you to know of my feelings for you." His head slowly fell forward so that his forehead rested against yours. The closeness seemed to comfort him, since he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his entire body relaxing. "For you to know how you consumed my every thought during my travels. How your name was a prayer upon my lips every night. How with every foe I killed I knew I was making the world a safer place for you." He had opened his eyes now and could see the tears shining in your eyes, as well as the smile of adoration playing about your lips.

"Then you should know, that I prayed to the Valar for your safe return. That I kept you close in my mind and my heart. That I never once believed the rumors of your demise. That I knew in my soul that you would return to me. You have been my hope and my strength in these dark days Legolas." He reciprocated your smile as you spoke.

A beat of silence followed where both your hearts beat as one and as one, as if by the Valar, words rose to your lips, unbidden, yet with an ancient power behind them that no one could ever hope to comprehend.

"My prayer." His nose brushed against your own as you both spoke together.

"My light." You could feel his warm breath against your parted lips as you both whispered in tandem.

"My Fëa."

With nothing more left to say, his lips brushed against yours in the gentlest yet deepest of kisses.

[arc-misadventures]

The High Elf’s Tale

Lady Willow Schnee…

She was a high elf that had lived to be nigh on a thousand year. She was a mother of three wonderful children, two girls, and a boy. And, she was unfortunate married to a repulsive, slime ball of a high elf.

It was a forced marriage her parents put her through; something about keeping the bloodline pure. They said this as if it was something sacred, and special to uphold in high regard. Yet keeping the bloodline pure often lead to a unsanitary deal of inbreeding, and the various noble bloodlines of the human nations had taught anyone who had eyes to see the vile, and various consequences of inbreeding.

Luckily for, Willow this animated corpse was only her second cousin. Though the thought of having married that decrepit spawn of goblin dung never sat well with her.

To escape her ‘loving’ husband, Willow eventually fell into drinking: Elvin Wine, Dwarf Ale, Faunkin Brandy, even the feeble excuse of alcohol that was, Human Beer. For nearly a hundred years she drunk herself into a stupor. If it wasn’t for her daughter’s, she dare say she’d still be a drunkard.

After recovering from her addiction of the bottle, she escape that sentient trash heap of a living being, and became a scholar at the kingdom’s national library, one of the largest repository of knowledge in the know world.

Willow spent her time there delving into ancient knowledge, magic, and history of the world. Nearly two hundred years had passed since she had arrived there, and she had swiftly became a premier scholar, having read the majority of the library’s vast collection of tomes, history books, fine literature, and grimoires. And, thus becoming a wizard of great renown throughout the kingdom.

Willow had thought she would live a peaceful life studying her books for the rest of her life. But, all of that changed on the day that during her studies she stumbled upon the most curious sight: A human knight scoping about the library.

A curious sight to behold; human scholars were a rare, but not uncommon sight to be seen perusing about the vast elven libraries. But, a human knight in their library was something else entirely. So, she grew curious, Willow said she had developed an inquisitive side to her, no doubt due to all the books she read. So, with her curiosity peaked she decided to say hello to this human knight, and ask him why he was here.

Little did, Willow know that simply saying hello to this human lead her down a rabbit hole that seemingly had no end.

Who would believe that just by saying hello to a human knight named, Jaune Arc would result in her assisting him in his quest to slay a dragon, and to battling hordes of bandits, slavers, and all other of vile barbarians just to back a dragon-stone to her kingdom.

Nor, would it have lead them to discovering a vile, and treacherous secret plot being made by her, bastard son of a whore husband’s to overthrow the reigning monarchy in an attempt to take over the kingdom.

Who could have foreseen her shit flinger of a husband was merely being used by a cult that has used the dragon-stone they had acquired for an vile arcane ritual that was being used to summon a, Demon-Lord in an attempt to destroy the kingdom.

Willow, would never had thought she would wind up in a book in the very same library she stood over of as a member in a tale of hero’s who would fight along side, the Knight of the Rusted Order, Jaune Arc, and his companions to slay a, Demon-Lord, and save the entire kingdom.

Willow would have never had expected that after all the travels, and adventures that she would wake up in the arms of this young knight after the victory celebrations. And, considering how loveless her marriage was, and dull, and repulsive the times they spent in bed together, she could have never foreseen how enjoyable, and overwhelming pleasurable it was to sleep with a man she genuinely loved.

In all of, Willow’s life she had never expected to fall in love with a man, a human no less. Let alone marry a human knight that was a thousandth her age, and least of all bear several wonderful, beautiful children with him.

But, that just how life goes; unpredictable, but unforgettable, and wonderful nonetheless.