#He's becoming more feminine each day

[obeymematches]

🫧🚿taking a shower together🫧🚿

nobody asked for this but let's go!!

Lucifer:

At first it was...awkward. This is a very intimate moment and frankly, he is not used to this. You already washed yourself almost entirely when he offers to wash your back. Also, he prefers very cold showers; he is used to not having warm water, living with Asmo and Levi. If you don't mind the cold water he'll suggest a thing or two... ;)

"Of course you may join me, my dove, need a hand getting in?"

Mammon:

He behaves as if he has done this before?? Very playful the entire time, teasing you with the showerhead. Gets the showergel and as a routine he washes your body. Isn't shy at all. Prefers very hot showers though so get ready for that. Will suggest sexy time at first.

"It's me MC, lemme join ya pleeeaseee!"

Leviathan:

Boy just wants it to be over at first, despite taking 40 min showers when he is alone. Very uncomfortable in this situation, just washes himself and gets out earlier than you. Not sure if this becomes a habit, but if you can get him to do it again he will like it more!

"Okay MC, I.. I think I'm ready!"

Satan:

Loves loves loves the idea and the moment!! Makes sure the water is perfect for you!!! "That's alright" won't do! Asks for permission to wash your body, hair, everywhere basically and his knees become weak when you offer to wash him. Now you must do this everyday, he has a new favourite part of the day!

"How did I not think of this before? Come on in!"

Asmo:

Well he is not a shower kind of guy but who is he to refuse this opportunity!! Poor bby doesn't even know how to switch from the tap to the showerhead. Very gentle when he offers to wash you! Compliments each part of your body! Feels like a therapy tbh. Likes his water warm but not too hot. Probably gets suggestive somewhere down the road.

"Ahhh MC I must join you! I really hope you don't mind!"

Beel:

Honestly he usually takes quick showers so this entire session lasts 10 minutes max, including drying. Offers to wash you but he uses the 2in1 very masculine gel so if you wanna smell more feminine you must stop him. Likes to hug you to make it even more intimate! Likes his water a bit cold but not too cold!

"Ohh, come on in quick! Of course I don't mind, are you kidding?"

Belphie:

Doesn't show it but he likes this moment so much! At least he has a reason to shower right? Very casual the entire time, doesn't ask but motions that he has the intetion to wash you. Looks very hot with wet hair! Doesn't really have a water preference but I feel like it's either too hot or too cold depending on the day.

"Ah now we're gonna have more time to cuddle! Let's do this MC!"

Solomon:

Adores this idea, though he also prefers kind of cold water. Acts very natural but inside he is melting. Pls wash his hair it'll make him want to kiss you. Doesn't become a habit but if you offer once in a while he is down to shower together. Though now he enjoys buying you different kind of showergels!

"I don't remember ever doing this before so uhh.. maybe if I stand here and you there-"

Simeon:

Ah he is very shy at first, might not think this is a good idea. If you can convince him though he'll be quick to warm up to this moment! Just washes himself though, it's not on his mind to do it for you. Likes moderate temperature water.

"Ah this is not so bad, honestly. Would you wash my back, please?"

Barbatos:

Does his best to enjoy every minute he gets to spend with you. The water is however you want it to be, he can make do with whetever. Has veey good quality gels and he uses a generous amount if you let him wash you. Anything for you MC <3

"Alright, come in. How do you like the water?"

Diavolo:

He overthinks the situation a lot. Has to make sure you have showergel options to choose from and whichever you pick he gets more of. The first time is awkward, doesn't really know what to do so it's up to you to show him the ropes. The second, third, etc time he becomes so casual and funny you can't help but look forward to these sessions.

"Come MC, there is plenty of place for both of us! I'll just move over here and-"

[endlessthxxghts]

Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | notifs blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town. 

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason. 

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you. 

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction. 

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.” 

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you. 

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?” 

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up. 

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you. 

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of. 

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you. 

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts. 

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements. 

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter. 

“I said—” 

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm. 

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you. 

Well, apparently not everyone. 

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back. 

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips. 

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him. 

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines. 

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him. 

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life. 

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.” 

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you. 

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take. 

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now. 

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom. 

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming. 

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless. 

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself. 

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking. 

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered. 

Fuck. 

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you. 

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?” 

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics. 

You quirk your eyebrow at him. 

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure. 

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries. 

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here. 

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps. 

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it. 

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him. 

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to. 

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout. 

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him. 

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you. 

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming. 

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze. 

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again. 

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend. 

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces. 

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest. 

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss. 

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks. 

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?” 

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ ɢᴏᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 10 dollars on a dare leads you to break one superstition that changes your life forever. you begin to learn secrets tied to your family and upbringing, at the cost of your freedom. who is this mysterious Anshumat, and why does he want you?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, kidnapping, choking, reader gets called a bride once

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,418

⭒ a/n: yan sea god was inspired by an Indonesian myth called Nyi Roro Kidul! it's a really interesting legend if you want to learn more abt it ^^ also.... man tits...... meow..

will you venture down this path?

growing up, you would stay over at your grandmother's house every summer. her beautiful seaside cottage made the perfect accommodation for a family getaway. throughout your childhood, the superstitious old woman restricted you from doing specific things. rules like never whistling at night, don't open an umbrella indoors, etc.

you'd eventually found out that these were just scare tactics for children to make them listen. but there was one rule that your grandmother seemed to fear the most, a rule that never made sense... never wear white to the local beach. and when questioning her about the rule, she'd tell you the same story every time.

"long ago...

a cruel serpent god who once ruled these waters would rise from the ocean and into the islands, devouring innocent villagers and destroying temples along its path.

the gods and humans were furious at its actions. fed up with the destruction and death, they prepared a plan to thwart the serpent; a binding curse.

the serpent was cursed to spend its days rotting in a hidden island, where it was accompanied by its servants. it was also tasked with granting blessings to sailors passing through the rocky tides, where it weighed the sins of each individual to seal their fates.

but over the decades... the serpent grew bored and lonely. through a loophole, the serpent found a way to abduct humans. you see.. the serpent loves the colour white and pearls. so much so, it would use its voice, so alluring, to lure the poor victims who happened to wear such things. and once in the water, the serpent would drag the human to its temple where they would become its slave.. or worse...

its spouse."

here you are today, telling the same tale in front of your young niece and nephew. "well, that's one way to get bitches." your nephew, Keona laughs. a scoffing Kehlani adds on, "nah, who would want to marry an overgrown slimy snake?"

"hey now, take that shit to grandma. she just assigned me to be your storyteller," you shrugged. "and this story has a real reasoning behind it, ok?"

"what? sexy sea snake destroying villages?"

"no, it's so that little rascals like you..." you drill both your index fingers onto their foreheads, "are easier to find if you ever get lost at sea."

how did i end up here...

facepalming yourself, you sigh. you were disappointed in yourself. how'd you let those little punks reel you in a dare? where was the self-respect? the dignity? seriously, breaking your grandmother's number 1 rule for what? 10 dollars?

you walk along the shore while wearing a flowy white shirt and neck encased in one of your mother's pearl necklaces. the dare was simple: successfully walk down the shoreline without chickening out and boom— an extra 10 dollars into your wallet.

you'd prove to the twins that you weren't scared of a little bedtime story. buuut just in case you did happen to go missing (for reasons that are totally not hungry sea serpent related), you brought essentials in a bag, left a letter for your family, and are currently being watched by the twins.

laughing at yourself for the paranoia, you nearly reach the edge of the walk until you hear a feminine wail from between the hidden rocks. is someone hurt? the sound was coming from beyond your finishing point so it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

signalling the twins to come over, you bend down to their heights, "listen, it sounds like someone's in trouble past those rocks. so I want you both to go grab the first aid kit and call Officer Holden over, 'kay?" they nod and scamper off into town.

approaching the rocks, you peek in to find a naked... mermaid?! observing her, you notice the torn skin on her iridescent tail and warily walk over to her. "uh... hey? hola? salve? hallo? i'm ah— good human! no... nooooo bad.."

you notice the air seems to smell... sweeter?

the woman looks up at you from the sand with pleading eyes, "please— please help me! my name is Coralie, my master, he—"

"woah, it's ok! you're safe, help is coming. uh, your master? did he do this to you? are you an underwater criminal?!"

a distant melodious voice interrupts you. Coralie's previously pained face now warps into a sinister grin as her wound disappears. she crawls towards you as your vision fogs up and your knees buckle to the soft sand. the song lulls you into a deep sleep, your body now being pulled into the shallow waters.

you awake to the bright rays of sunshine and lungs filling in with fresh air. but the next in your line of sight knocked all the air out of your body again.

the luminous, barely-clothed body of an unknown man sat above you. his 9'7 self relaxed on the marble throne, with 2 pairs of eyes fixated on you. what the fuck is that?

you gawk at him, "holy mother of god..."

i'm not dreaming, am i?

his gaze shifts into amusement, "wrong. we gods do not have mothers. we were created."

"you're a... a god?"

"is it not obvious enough from my appearance? would you like to see another version of me?" the towering deity begins to warp into a feminine body as if it was melting and moulding itself. "is this preferable?" her new voice is flirtatious, genuinely curious.

then, she tries to warp into a third body. the transformation looks more painful than the one prior, it barely shifts halfway into a gruesome beast before returning back to its first body. he huffs while grasping his golden collar, "this... is not my original form. I have been cursed, long ago, to never set foot on human lands. this island is both my kingdom and prison."

you shakily stand up the marble floor, now noticing Coralie standing beside the throne with a pair of legs. slowly processing his words, you piece together the clues from his story and your memories of the abduction. this couldn't be...

"you are.. you're the sea serpent god! I can't believe grandma was right— shit, shit shit—"

he smirks at your panic, "correct. I am Anshumat; shapeshifter deity of the raging tides, granter of safe travels—"

"murderer and enslaver." you complete.

Anshumat roars, "correct again! you're on a strike, dear y/n. though trust me, my servants are treated well."

"..how do you know my name?"

"oh you poor thing, granny never told you? I know everything about you— a name is barely anything."

"told me what?"

"she used to be my cupbearer. until she escaped with that bastard traitor. isn't that right, Coralie?"

she nods, "yes, master."

"please sir, let me leave. my family— they'll search for me! I have a cat at home! I haven't even finished my favourite show.. so please..." you try to list more life goals.

he chuckled, "oh you are so amusing. and why would I do that? we've barely just been engaged, dear."

"what do you mean engaged?"

"I've been watching you since you took your first breath on earth, y/n. so imagine my surprise— to see you wrapped up in my favourite colour, like a pretty bride. you're my sacrifice."

fear tingles your spine, "wait, that was just a dare! i didn't really mean it!"

"doesn't matter. you will be my pearl."

"no! I have a family, a partner—"

"i said... it doesn't fucking matter." he slams his fist against the throne arm, "and you'll be seeing the head of that twat soon enough."

you don't give him a glance before you're turning your back and run down the staircase of the grand temple. careful not to trip, you focus on the flight of stairs, painfully aware of the loud footsteps approaching behind you. it doesn't take a second for Anshumat to pull on the collar of your shirt and slam you onto the staircase.

he sits atop you, lower region heavily grinding against your stomach. "get off me! don't you have hundreds of other options?! why me?!" you scream.

his bedazzled skin blocks your view of the sun, furious eyes glowing under his shadow, and sharp teeth bared into a snarl. "you do not get to leave me again. you will stay, and worship me. this island will be our eternal paradise."

large hands pressing against your throat, you struggle before darkness begins to cloud your vision.

"this time, you will live."

[bratzforchris]

I Think You're Hot

Summary: SFW and NSFW headcanons about Matt being the golden retriever to his bisexual wife's black cat <3

Pairing: Matt x feminine!reader

Warnings: Smut, pouty bottom/bratty sub!Matt, oral (f receiving), p in v, dom fem!reader, mentions of threesomes, nipple play (none of this is overly descriptive because it's headcanons, but you're responsible for what you consume online!)

A/N: Many of these may seem like I am stereotyping bisexual people, especially women. I am bisexual myself and truly mean no harm by this <3 Every bisexual person is different! Don't fetishize us and love us for who we are 🩷💜💙 Special tag for my bff @nicksbestie for plotting with me <3 Enjoy!

SFW

✯Matt who gave his (then girlfriend, now) wife the biggest smile and hug when she came out to him

"You know this doesn't change how I feel about you, right? You're still my girl, and I love you more than anything in the world. Plus, now we get to have celebrity crushes together!!"

"That's the first thing you think of?"

"Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn is hot as fuck."

"...you got me there."

✯ He absolutely adores all of your piercings and tattoos. They make you so you. He loves to leave kisses on each one when you're cuddling

✯ Speaking of tatted/pierced bi baddie, you gotta add the colored hair to that, right? Matt adores going to the beauty supply store with you and picking out new hair colors for you to try

"Purple and pink?"

"There isn't a single color you couldn't pull off, my love."

✯ Matt who goes ALL FUCKING OUT for pride. There's a rainbow flag outside your house, he's putting pink/purple/blue hair chalk in his hair, and he is happily accompanying you and Nick to all the pride parades and festivals

"It's pride month, so I have to do whatever you say."

"Matt...you do that every month, baby. You're whipped."

✯ He absolutely loves playing games with you, even if he has to hear about how hot certain characters are. You even have matching gaming setups <3

✯ Every single one of their subscribers comments on how well dressed Matt is. Where do you think he gets his style tips? His wife 100%. You know how to perfectly balance between masculine and feminine, having your own days where you leaned more towards one or the other

✯ Matt who becomes a coffee shop enthusiast. You're rather addicted to iced coffees, and he's willing to oblige your addiction. The fans go especially crazy over photos of the two of you in cute cafes

✯ "Goddamn, I am so gay."

"Oh 😞"

✯ Matt who helps you cuff your jeans <3

✯ Absolutely jumps to defend you from bigots. He may seem shy and gentle, but the second someone even thinks anything rude about his wife, he is jumping down their throats

✯ Matt who loves the style you pull off. He thinks the way you wear flannels, jeans, and Converse one day and then full beat makeup and heels the next is so beyond sexy

✯ "Matt, look she's so hot."

"She's very hot, but not as hot as you *cheesy grin*."

✯ On days when you're not very feeling confident in your sexuality, Matt makes sure to give you extra love and attention, promising that he thinks you're amazing no matter what <3

NSFW

✯ Matt who's okay with threesomes as long as there's clear boundaries that the other girl isn't joining your relationship full time

✯ Two hot women domming him? He's folding so fast

✯ Matt who's an absolute brat because he loves seeing his dom get all worked up

"You watch my mouth. I can't see it."

"What was that, sweet boy? Fix the attitude."

✯ Showing your third partner how to control him and Matt just smiles sweetly, all thoughts that don't have to do with him being pounded into the mattress disappearing

✯ If it was just you and Matt, he absolutely loves to eat you out to show you how "sorry" he is (he will mouth off again)

"Please...I promise I won't *grunt* do it again."

"Fine. But you better use that mouth for what's it made for and make this worth my while."

✯ Matt whose wife has her nipples pierced and he loves to play with them, gently sucking over the cool metal of the barbells

✯ Matt who loves it when you're on top, riding him until he's begging to cum with tears in his eyes

✯ When you have a third partner, he can't help but to grind his hips into the mattress as he whimpers, watching the two prettiest girls he knows go down on each other

✯ Matt who has a collar with his wife's name on it and blushes when your third partner points it out

"Someone really is whipped, huh?"

*cue blushes, gentle giggles, and enthusiastic nods*

✯ Matt who loves his bi wife and wouldn't trade her for anything 🩷💜💙

tags ♡: @sturnlovr @matthewsturniologirly @pkfferoo @jetaimevous @blahbel668 @sturniolowhore @muwapsturniolo @nicksbestie @sturnlova @gxldenlush @calumsrockstar @pepsiluvr0209

[shaylogic]

Queer Experience Watching Barbie - AFAB Masculinity

I started to go into this in tags on another post but I wanted to type this up separately and try to develop my thoughts a little more. . .

Ryan!Ken’s arc in Barbie (2023) has been buzzing in my head for days.

I got fixated on it for a couple of major reasons:

1) We rarely have seen a feminist movie take time to address men with compassion in how patriarchy harms them too.

2) As a trans masc person, I think it hits a specific part of my identity that I don’t consciously let myself think about for too long. Something about being raised in a female world with sisterhood and community. Then being isolated in adult manhood without the tools to prepare you for that. Conscientious of respecting women and being unbothered by feminimity around you, but not knowing your place in the world.

How do I put it?

I know it’s not the direct intention of the film itself, but I’ve seen other trans folks (especially transmasc), reacting similarly to the feeling we get from it.

Ken’s arc feels pretty reminicent of the struggle afab lgbt folks go through when considering masculinity in their identity (butch lesbians, afab nbs, trans men, etc.)

How to make peace with masculine aspects of yourself without losing the women in your life? (One can argue Kate McKinnon’s Weird Barbie has aspects of this as well.)

Of course, then Ken goes off on the adopting patriarchy ride, which IS the point of the movie, and may skew a bit from the transmasc read on it--though I have known a trans guy here and there who avoids being misgendered so hard that they can become somewhat sexist. To which I say: “You don’t need to have a dick to be a man, and you don’t need to BE a dick to be a man.” But I digress.

Something about Ken being comfortable in a woman’s world but not understanding why he’s being shut out from socially bonding with them (in any sense! Romantic, Familial, Platonic Friendship. . .)

The overall theme of the movie for both Barbie and Ken--in an allegory of heavy gender roles harming all--leading them each to have to figure out who they are in themselves, regardless of others. . . 

Trans masc folx can relate to both Barbie and Ken’s arcs.

I don’t want to detract from Barbie’s arc being the main point of the movie.

I think the reason why we get hung up on Ryan!Ken’s character is because. . . we’ve related to the Barbie plot in other movies and shows before, thinking back to our “girlhoods” as children.

I have never seen the arc Ken has in this in any other story!!!!

There are some Man Movies that have attempted to discuss the struggle of Being a Man--but they often come off as too dismissive of feminine experiences, and are therefore as offputting to transmasc people as women.

Because of the nature of the two worlds exhibited in this movie, and Ken’s backround in his setting, personality, and purpose in relation to the Barbies, he’s a Man living with Female Socialization, in a Woman’s World; he’s a male character that inherently admires and respects women in his nature (until the real world influence distorts it).

This isn’t a perfect example of a transmasc experience either, but it’s a lot closer than most of us generally get to see! That’s why so many of us are getting caught up in this.

Please, other trans folx (transfems, too!), I really need us to have a discussion about this. What were your experiences and thoughts around this movie?

P.S. Yeah, we kinda get that nonbinary allegory from Allan (not a Ken, not a Barbie, siding with Feminism in the Gender War), but he wasn’t in significant focus of the plot the way Ryan!Ken was. If I try to read into Allan, I don’t have much to work with.

[its-avalon-08]

Can I request a Lando one where reader is a famous skateboarder and she becomes insecure because she is outside the "standard" of girls who he dates and he's comforts her after all the online hate she suffers because of that and says that she's way cooler than him

skatergirl and racerboy (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fluff, hate

Lando watched Y/N from a distance, sitting on the edge of the skatepark with his elbows resting on his knees. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. He loved these moments, watching her in her element, completely absorbed in her passion.

Y/N was practicing a new trick, her face set in determined concentration. She launched herself off a ramp, twisting her body mid-air, and landed smoothly, her skateboard gliding effortlessly beneath her. Lando couldn’t help but smile, a sense of pride welling up inside him.

“Wow,” he muttered to himself, his admiration evident. “She makes it look so easy.”

As she skated back towards the start, she noticed Lando and waved, her face lighting up with a smile. Lando's heart skipped a beat at the sight. He waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement just from seeing her so happy.

She skated over to him, her helmet slightly askew and a sheen of sweat on her brow. “Hey there, Formula 1 star. How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough to be amazed, as always,” Lando replied, grinning. “You’re incredible out there, you know that?”

Y/N blushed slightly, sitting next to him and pulling off her helmet. “Thanks, Lando. It means a lot coming from you.”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly. “The way you handle that board, it’s like you’re dancing. I could watch you all day.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “You make driving around in circles look pretty cool too.”

Lando chuckled. “Touché. But seriously, your talent and dedication… it’s inspiring. It makes me want to be better at what I do.”

Y/N tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Really? You’re already amazing at what you do.”

“Maybe, but seeing you push yourself, constantly striving to improve… it motivates me. Plus, I love your whole vibe. It’s so different from anything I’ve ever known. You’re fearless, and it’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

She looked down, a shy smile playing on her lips. “I’m just being me.”

“And that’s exactly what I love,” Lando said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re authentic, and you don’t try to fit into any box. It’s refreshing.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his. “I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I worry that… you know, I’m not what people expect for you.”

Lando shook his head firmly. “What matters is what I want, and I want you, Y/N. I love everything about you – your passion, your talent, your uniqueness. You’re not just my girlfriend; you’re my best friend, my biggest inspiration.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion as she leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you, Lando.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I love you too, Y/N. More than anything.”

They sat there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. In that moment, Lando knew he’d found something truly special, and he was determined to hold onto it, no matter what anyone else said.

time skip

pov. y/n's phone

instagram comments

@F1Fanatic123: "I don’t get the hype about Y/N. She’s not even close to Lando’s exes in terms of looks."

@RacingQueen99: "Why is Lando dating a skateboarder? She doesn’t fit the WAG standards at all."

@GlamGossip: "Y/N looks so tomboyish. Lando deserves someone more feminine."

@SpeedDemon56: "Miss the days when Lando dated models. Y/N just doesn’t measure up."

twitter posts

@F1Lover: "Lando can do so much better than Y/N. She doesn’t even fit the WAG profile. #BringBackTheModels"

@RaceCarDreams: "Not hating, but Y/N isn’t what I expected for Lando. She’s so different from his exes."

@GossipGuru: "Y/N is cool and all, but she’s not the type of girl I’d imagine with Lando. He needs someone more glamorous."

@TrackTalk: "Seeing Y/N and Lando together is weird. She’s too tomboyish for him. #Mismatch"

instagram dms

Unknown: "Y/N, you should just stick to skateboarding. Leave Lando for someone who actually fits in his world."

Unknown: "You’re cool, but not WAG material. Lando deserves a real queen, not a skater girl."

Unknown: "You’re ruining Lando’s image. He needs someone better, not a skater girl."

Unknown: "Why is Lando wasting his time with you? You’ll never fit in his world."

twitter replies

@RacingFanatic: "Lando’s ex was so much prettier. What happened, @LandoNorris?"

@F1Glam: "Y/N is a downgrade. Lando should be with someone more stylish."

@PitStopPrincess: "Y/N is talented, but she doesn’t belong in the WAG circle. Lando can find someone better."

instagram story reactions

👎👎👎: "Y/N is so out of place with Lando. Bring back his glamorous girlfriends!"

💔: "She’s cool but not the right fit for Lando. I miss his old WAGs."

instagram poll

@F1GossipHub: "Do you think Y/N is a good match for Lando?"

Yes (25%)

No (75%)

twitter trending hashtags

#BringBackTheModels #LandoDeservesBetter #MismatchCouple

more twitter comments

@F1Chatter: "It’s sad seeing Lando with someone so below his league. He used to date such beautiful women."

@GlamF1: "Y/N is talented, but she doesn’t belong in the world of F1 WAGs. She’s too different."

@SpeedyGossip: "I like Y/N, but she’s not the type for Lando. He needs someone who matches his lifestyle."

instagram comments on lando’s post

@F1FanGirl: "Lando, you can do better. Y/N isn’t the one for you."

@RacingChic: "She’s not WAG material. Miss the days when you dated models."

@GlamQueen: "Y/N is too different. You deserve someone who fits the WAG profile."

end of pov

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at her phone. The screen was filled with hurtful comments and criticisms that seemed to pile up no matter where she looked. Each notification felt like a new stab to her heart. She felt utterly crushed by the online hate.

The next morning, she tried to put on a brave face. She chose a floral dress from her closet, something she rarely wore. She looked in the mirror and forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t feel like herself.

As she walked into the kitchen, Lando looked up from his coffee and did a double-take. “You look stunning my love! But are you not skateboarding today?"

Y/N cut him off with a forced smile. “Just trying something new. and no I'm not going today. How’s your morning?”

Lando frowned, sensing something was off. Over the next few days, he noticed she was changing her wardrobe more and more, opting for dresses and stylish outfits instead of her usual skateboarding gear. It wasn’t like her at all.

Finally, one evening, Lando decided to confront her. He found her in the living room, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, staring blankly at the TV. He sat down next to her, his expression serious.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked gently. “You’ve been acting so different lately. Wearing all these dresses that I know you don't like, not skating… it’s like you’re trying to be someone you’re not.”

She didn’t meet his gaze, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress. “It’s nothing, really. Just felt like a change.”

Lando reached out, placing his hand on hers. “It’s not just about the clothes, is it? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Her resolve broke, and she turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I just… I read all the comments online. People saying I don’t fit your world, that I’m not good enough. It’s hard to ignore, Lando. I started thinking maybe they’re right.”

Lando’s heart broke at her words. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “Oh, Y/N… I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Those comments are nothing but noise. They don’t matter. What matters is how I feel about you.”

She clung to him, her sobs muffled against his chest. “But… I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t fit in. I just wanted to make you proud.”

Lando gently pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of sadness and determination. “You don’t have to change anything about yourself for me. I fell in love with you for who you are, not for who others think you should be. The reason I’m with you is because you’re real, and you’re amazing just the way you are.”

Y/N shook her head, wiping at her tears. “But what if who I am isn’t enough?”

Lando cupped her face in his hands, his eyes intense with emotion. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. You’re cooler than anyone I’ve ever met. The way you skateboard, your passion, your spirit—it’s all a part of who you are, and that’s what I love. Those comments, they don’t change how incredible you are.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching for sincerity. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’ve seen how hard you work, how dedicated you are. You inspire me every day. And the idea of you changing yourself to fit some standard is just wrong. You make me proud every single day.”

Y/N’s tears continued to flow, but now there was a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Thank you, Lando. I needed to hear that.”

He kissed her forehead, his own eyes misty. “Anytime, love. I’m here for you, no matter what. And remember, you’re the one who makes my world brighter. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much baby, don't let anyone dim your spirit.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the world lifting slightly as they found solace in their love. Lando’s words became a balm to her wounded heart, a reminder that their bond was stronger than any online hate. Together, they faced the storm, united in their love and unwavering in their support for each other.

landonorris posted

liked by y/nn, maxverstappen1 and others

landonorris my girl, i love you more than anything. fuck the haters

[solbaby7]

Falling Into You

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, possible typos, sexual themes, violence, blood, angsty but there’s also fluff

summary: A certain Shadowsinger stumbling into love with a woman and all of her many, many secrets.

part 2 to Tripping Over You

[ before you ask, this will become a mini-series ]

—

Days of chaste touches turned into nights of hushed conversations around a crackling fire wearing nothing more than those sorry excuse for night clothes and your hair free from its ponytail. Weeks of getting to know each other; first kisses and second and a third until there were too many to count—too many times pushed up in come corner cloaked by shadows with tongues touching and hands roaming past the respectable limitations but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Every touch was burning hot, igniting a flame so uncontrollable he looked past a few warning signs. The sneaking out at the witching hour with Amren and returning before the sun came up with a fresh glow to your skin and insatiable energy to burn. The mumbled comments about “still getting used to this body” when you’d stumble or lose your grip on your silverware at dinner. You never talked much about your past; something he could probably understand if it weren’t for the way your eyes would darken when he’d push the topic a touch too hard.

All of it, Azriel ignored for the sake of feeling—of having someone to anticipate coming home to and always finding folded love notes with feminine handwriting and a lip mark stained at the bottom shoved in random pockets and fighting leathers for him to find. “You’re staring,” Rhysand points out, a glass of whiskey in his grasp and his free hand was shoved in his pocket. “—and it’s not the good kind.”

“I think she’s hiding something from me.”

The High Lord raises a brow, amethyst eyes scanning the sitting area where the others were; Fey and Cass were hunched in the corner, giggling over the wine they’d smuggled as they filled their glasses to the brim. Mor and Nesta were arguing over something while you and Amren leaned into one another, watching the girls with bright amusement in your eyes as you mumbled commentary back and forth. “Things are still new—there’s bound to be a few skeletons in the closet.” Az hums in agreement but doesn’t offer more information, not about what he’d observed because your laugh was like music, a symphony of flutes and string instruments all playing in such perfect synchronization that deep magic long forgotten rose to get a glimpse of who was behind it.

“You’re right,” The shadowsinger gives in too easily, captivated by the way you light up when your gaze shifts to him, a blush forming when you catch him already looking and Az can’t even remember the conversation anymore when you beckon him closer.

Rhys lingers behind, observing the way you leaned into the spymaster and the love that shown in your eyes was undeniable. Hushed words and shared laughs, hands trailing up the length of your arm, fingers that pull hair from your shoulder to make room for the kisses he placed there. Seemingly perfect if it weren’t for Amren’s watchful eye on the whole thing, otherworldly features scrunching up at the sight of you and Azriel but she shakes it away.

“Rhys,” Feyre calls out, steps wobbly and cheeks flushed from all the wine. “Get over here.”

That night, you don’t leave with Ren.

Staying back with Az tangled in his sheets, lips swollen and cheeks hurting from smiling so much when strong arms cage you to the mattress. He’s shirtless; sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the soft material of your nightgown shifts up your thighs when he settles between them. “I really like this—really like you too,” Azriel mumbles between kisses up the length of your neck, leaving marks and dragging his nose along your frantic pulse. The fire crackled at the other end of his room, a golden glow stretched across the room as you melted in his touch. “I know we’ve been moving a little fast; getting so caught up in the chemistry between us that we haven’t really talking about a few things.”

“Yeah?” You’re breathless, arching into the warmth of the half-naked body above you and the slow drag of his lips trailing the line of your jaw. “Like what?”

“Like whatever secrets you’ve been keeping with Amren.” He feels the way your body stiffens beneath him but he doesn’t let it stop him from staking his claim on every inch of skin he could possibly touch. “I won’t push—not now, but you’ll have to tell me eventually.”

There's an audible gulp, your hands shaky when they rest at his sides but you can't find it in you to form words, only managing a nod and the chaos of your mind calms when he keeps kissing and nipping and tracing the tip of his tongue around the curve of your ear.

Azriel doesn't bring it up again.

Not when you stop sneaking out altogether, waking up every morning with your hair splayed across the pillows and legs tangled in his own. Not when there's obvious tension between you and Armen, her tugging you off into a separate room before breakfast and Ariel can't help but linger close by, shadows slinking under the door to catch a glimpse of her scolding you, shouting at you about the dangers of what you were doing and his confusion only grows. "Ren, I really like him."

"Enough to risk everything?"

There's silence and your head hangs, brows furrowed in frustration as the truth in her words weigh you down.

"I won't let anything happen to him. I just—" Your voice drops so low even the shadows can barely pick up on them but the plea glistening in your eyes says more than any string of sentences. "He makes me so happy, Ren—more than I ever thought was possible for me. Why can't l get a little happiness to? Haven't I given enough?"

Amren softens, eyes clenching and she has to turn her back to you to compose herself. "Of course, but you know that’s not up for me to decide." She rests her weight against the desk, both arms outstretched before her and dark hair hangs past her shoulders. Nothing is said for a while but when she finally does, you shift completely; that steely darkness that would settle into your features when he prodded too hard. You looked regal, utter power radiating from your stance as you glared at your best friend over the bridge of your nose—you looked like Rhys, shifting from a friend to a High Lord. "I have orders—"

"Then, let me offer you a few more." Azriel's brow raises as the authoritative tone, the way Amren can't seem to meet your eye and gone was the stumbling woman with sheepish smiles and butterfly bandages stuck to her knees. In her place stood someone with a voice, a backbone and dare he said it—but the power and the authority to command whatever you damn well pleased. "You get to have your boyfriend, I get to have mine and you keep your mouth shut about it should anyone ask you any questions the next time you're due to report back to Titus." The step you take towards her, finger pointing at her chest; the hint of fear that darts across her unique features. “And I swear to the Mother above, Amren, if you fucking say a word about any of this to him—"

Amren dips her head, words clipped but utterly respectful. "Understood. As you wish."

Azriel’s gone before the two of you leave the room and when you find him waiting at the table, seat open to his right as he poured you a cup of tea. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, Ren’s just been pissed I keep bailing on her.”

You’re pouring honey and stirring when he slowly asks, “What do you guys do that late anyway?”

“Honestly, it’s mainly a lot of training; this form adapts differently to the fighting style I’m used to and she’s been helping me.”

His brows furrow, jaw working over a steaming pancake and you’re suddenly grateful for how loud Cassian is; not even nine in the morning and he was already laughing deeply, offering jokes and quick quips that has the rest of the Inner Circle snorting over their eggs; too occupied to notice the spymaster trying to decipher a small piece of a much bigger picture. “This form?”

“My form,” You easily correct, a hand reaching out to cup the back of his neck, fingers scratching soothing lines into soft strands of inky hair and he melts like butter under your touch. “Ren thinks I could give your General a run for his money.”

“Yeah, right.” Cass scoffs, mouth full of bacon and eggs, syrup stuck in a clump on a piece of his hair and you can’t fight the growing smile, the giddy grins from the others as the challenge settles in the air. “You’re like a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, I’d end you in seconds.”

Amren makes a face, fork scraping against her plate. “I wouldn’t be so sure; she’s quick on her feet.”

He slams a heavy hand on the table, a goading grin growing and he’s quick to inhale the remnants of his plate. “Hurry up, Bambi; I’m ready to win my bragging rights for the day.”

Azriel seems hesitant, watching the others place their bets and rush to finish eating. His grip on your hand is tighter than usual when the whole group settles at the sparring ring and Cass is already inside, shirt off and hair tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Have a little faith; you’d be surprised by some of the tricks I have hiding up my sleeve.”

He squints at the words, golden irises locked on you as you saunter forward and Az can’t help but admire the tight training clothes you’d changed into. You radiate pure confidence when you enter the ring, already sizing Cass up and making mental notes of whatever you’d assessed about him. “I swear I’ll go easy on you.”

Cassian scoffs and as if a flip was switched; the playful male she once knew shifted into a warrior, lunching forwards with the speed of a panther but you don’t panic. Azriel is transfixed on the way you move, dodging attacks with such ease it begins to look like you’re dancing; light on your feet and impressively aware of everything around you. Cass changes his tactics and a punch that should’ve surprised you is blocked by a strong forearm and you’re landing a kick to his side of his ribs faster than lightening.

It sobers him, the brief pain that lingers a few minutes after the initial contact and the others watch as Cassian really begins to focus. Strong attacks are sent your way in quick succession, a flurry of punches and harsh swings, legs swiping out in attempts to stumble you but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, Azriel swears he catches a hint of a smirk growing on Amren’s face, grey eyes filled with pride and excitement.

Each move is done with such grace and the High Lady actually gasps in surprise when you use Cassian’s own body against him; stepping on the muscle just above his knee in order to hoist your body up and your legs are draped over his shoulders. For a split second you look down on him before swinging your upper body down, head slipping between his legs and your hands brace on the ground as your legs heave to flip the giant of a man over. On his back, wind briefly knocked out of him, Cassian grunts in astonishment, words breathy when he raises back to his feet but he’s looking at you differently; from head to toe like he’s noticing something he never did before. "How did you do that?"

You haven't even broken a sweat, an eye dropping to a wink. "Shall I show you once more?"

The others are laughing, changing their bets or adding more money to the pot as you and Cass keep on but Az just can't help but notice the way you fight is nothing like how he seen Amren fight first-hand in battle. "You taught her this?"

"Jealous?"

He shakes his head, tone dropping an octave and a breeze bristles through the material of his fighting leathers. "No,” You’re laughing at a frustrated Cassian in the ring, an arm locking his own behind his head and the General makes a passing comment about how alarming your strength was for your body. “But, I'm more than interested in joining a lesson or two—to gain perspective."

Amren goes rigid, slowly craning her neck to face him and the steely expression she bares is enough to have him hesitating; remembering a promise he’d made not to push on matters but he couldn’t help himself and Amren’s sudden change in attitude is the fuel to egg Az on further. "Perspective on what?"

Golden eyes gravitate back to you and the vague replies you give when Cassian asks where you’d been hiding such skill. “On her.”

[sansaorgana]

I 👏🏻 need 👏🏻 the 👏🏻 part 2 👏🏻 of 👏🏻 your 👏🏻 buck and bucky poly fic 👏🏻. Where they are reunioned after the war and the reader takes care of our traumatized boys

hii! 🙈 sorry for making you wait so long! this time I didn't chicken out and delivered a full smut 😘

[ PART ONE ] || [ PART THREE ]

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

When Buck had been leaving you, you had only thought of two possibilities – him finishing his twenty five missions as fast as he could and coming back to you before Christmas or him dying there. That he would go down and end up in a POW camp until the end of the war… You simply had not predicted. In fact, you hadn’t even thought of such a possibility and it was dreadful because all you had been doing was to wait. Wait, wait, wait… Every day and every night. God only knew how long the war would last but at least he was safer in that camp than flying over German heads. And – most importantly – Bucky was with him. Your two boys together.

You still remembered the night before Bucky’s departure. How could you ever forget? It had changed everything between the three of you. At first, you had wanted to forget and move on, hoping that once your desire had been fulfilled, you would no longer crave him. But that had been not the case. And a few weeks after Gale’s departure, your boyfriend had asked you two things – to marry him and for you to start writing letters to Bucky as well because his best friend had been lonely and he had no one to write to him; no one to fight and come back for. That had been an odd combination of questions but to the both of them you had answered – yes.

In the meantime, you moved out of the room you had been renting. One of your friends had become a war widow and you moved in with her to the house she had shared with her late husband. She had quickly remarried and moved in with her new man, allowing you to stay in the old house – you didn’t have to pay the rent, just the bills. And in return, you were taking care of the place in case she wanted to sell it or for her children to take it over one day. She had become a war widow and a married woman again and all this time you had been patiently waiting.

And now, when the new summer was just around the corner, they were coming back. You had prepared the house for their arrival, knowing they were supposed to go back to The States together. And on the very next day they were to come to you. Since you were not married to Buck yet, it would already cause quite a gossip if he stayed over. And him bringing a friend, too? Quite a scandal. But you didn’t care. God almighty, they had survived the war, they had survived hell… And you were supposed to care about small town gossip? No.

You had prepared a separate room for Bucky in the guest room downstairs. And while putting the sheets on, you wondered what it would be when they are back. Awkward, surely. The letters you had been exchanging with Bucky were… Not as innocent as you had imagined them to be at first. You wondered if Buck knew. 

You had bought a new dress for their arrival – delicate and feminine fabric with a flower pattern. Pearl earrings and an apron to make sure you wouldn’t get the new dress dirty as you baked a cherry pie for them. You didn’t invite anyone, it was no party. You didn’t have many friends in this town and the boys were coming from different states than you. There was no one to invite but you still wanted to greet them nicely.

You heard a car outside and took the apron off to hang it on the wall as you looked out of the window and you spotted a military car parking outside. Buck and Bucky left it with their small bags and they said goodbye to their friends inside before looking at each other and taking deep breaths in. Your heart pounded in your chest – it felt nearly unreal to see them again… Both alive and both in one piece each even though even from afar you could see that their faces… Their faces looked older, more tired. Their eyes lost the sparkle but you didn’t mind – how could you? And you hadn’t been expecting anything different. In fact, you had gotten older, too. And all that worrying, it had an effect on the way you looked as well.

You hurried to the hall and opened the front door shyly as they both looked in your direction. You were aware that some of your neighbours were watching behind their windows so you had to act carefully.

You ran out straight into Gale’s arms, crashing with him with all force, nearly knocking him down as Bucky chuckled. Gale lifted you up and spun you around, covering your face in dozens of tiny, sweet kisses and you cupped his cheeks as you examined his own face with your teary eyes. There were tiny scars scattered all over and you kissed them all before kissing his nose and eyelids, his lips.

“You’re back,” you breathed out finally, the very first words spoken between you two.

And then you looked at Bucky and you wished you could do the same to him. But you just gave him a stiff hug and patted his back. 

“You’re back,” you told him with a nod of your head and he nodded as well, awkwardly. His eyes longed to touch you and greet you properly but you were exposed outside. And even inside, it just felt wrong.

You were his best friend’s fiancée… The night before his departure, the letters… He still had not been sure what they meant. Perhaps they existed out of pity or as a treat, nothing more. And Buck was just very considerate and kind to share… But only a little. At the camp, they had been talking about you as if you were theirs and they had been doing things that solidified the odd, sinful union – sharing your letters and your pictures, telling each other sweet and spicy fantasies about you. But still… It was Buck who had been dating you first and it was Buck who had proposed to you. And now they were back and they didn’t need to desperately hang on to things to survive, so… Buck could be less eager to share you now. And Bucky would understand that but he still wanted to try his shot whenever the occasion would show up.

You all walked inside and you closed the door behind you, finally being alone in the privacy of your house.

“The bathtub is in the bathroom upstairs,” you told them. “Bucky’s bedroom is here, the door on the left down the corridor. Please, unpack yourselves, change your clothes. I will finish preparing food, okay?” You asked, not knowing what to do.

Not only with Bucky it was awkward but with Buck, too. How much did he know? And why did he feel so… Strange? Like you had never met him before. You still felt comfortable around him and your heart was still full of love at the sight of him but he now knew about the horrors you would never comprehend and that was creating a wall between you two.

They nodded at you and you left them to go back to the kitchen. You put the apron back on and started to work on the salad as the dinner you had prepared earlier was reheating.

Bucky was done first. He walked downstairs from the bathroom and joined you in the kitchen. At first, he leaned on the doorframe and then he cleared his throat to let you know about his presence and walked up to you, putting his hands around your waist and leaning down to put his chin on your shoulder before placing a kiss upon your cheek. Your heart pounded in your chest but his touch was more than welcome. God, you had been missing him.

“Thank you for all your letters,” he breathed out into your ear. “They saved me.”

“Thank you for staying alive and coming back to me,” you whispered back and he grabbed your wrist as he furrowed his brows at the ring on your finger. “I bought it for myself at the pawn shop,” you explained. “After I sent the letter to Buck where I agreed to marry him.”

“And the second letter was for me,” Bucky hummed to himself.

You were interrupted by Gale clearing his throat now and you got startled, moving away from Bucky’s arms. He let go of you but he kept standing there as if nothing had happened. Gale approached you two and now it was his turn to put his hands on your waist as he leaned in to kiss the crook of your neck.

“You look beautiful, my darling,” he told you. “I love your dress.”

“And the ring?” Bucky asked. “Have you seen the ring she bought herself at the pawn shop, pretending it was from you?” He lifted your hand and Buck took it from him gently as he examined the piece of jewellery.

“It’s stunning, my love. But I feel bad that you had to buy it yourself,” he placed a kiss upon it.

“It’s fine. At least I chose a ring that I like,” you shrugged your arms. “So many women are gifted rings that they don't really like,” you added with a chuckle and swallowed thickly at the awkwardness of the situation.

“I just thanked our girl for the letters she sent me. They saved me,” Bucky brought that up again and you felt your cheeks heating up at the way he called you their girl. There was no reaction from Buck whatsoever… You had a feeling they had already discussed it before.

“Your beautiful letters saved us both, my darling,” Buck nodded and leaned in to place a kiss under your ear. “We exchanged them often. And the pictures you sent us. Everything,” he murmured into your ear.

“You saved me, too, to be fair,” Bucky told him.

“And you saved me,” Gale smiled gently, you felt his lips curving on your delicate skin.

The timer in the oven went off, interrupting the scene. You cleared your throat and moved out of Buck’s arms.

“Dinner’s ready,” you announced.

During dinner, the boys were telling you stories from the war and the camp that they hadn’t been able to tell you in their letters. Of course they were not all the stories and they were told chaotically but you didn’t mind that. Your heart was aching for them – especially in the moments when their voices were shivering and eyes watering. But what you had noticed was that they had truly survived all of this because they were together and it was making you happy that they had been taking care of each other.

They insisted on washing the dishes so you left the kitchen to them and you went to the bathroom to prepare yourself for bed now. You would go to sleep earlier on that day because they both had been exhausted.

You changed into a white nightgown and brushed your hair and teeth before putting a perfumed lotion all over your body. You went to your bedroom and saw Buck’s bags on the chair, still unpacked. You sighed and began unpacking them to put them in your wardrobe – your friend from whom you rented the house allowed him to stay for some time until you get married and move out. She just didn’t know about Bucky…

But what about Bucky? Would he leave in a few days? Or would he stay? You had no idea. It was all a mess.

Once you were done with Gale’s things, you went to your bed and waited for him. He entered the bedroom with a soft smile but he left the door ajar. He changed into his pyjamas and joined you in the bed. You opened your arms for him to lay his head on your chest as you played with his hair. He needed comfort and warmth and you loved to give it to him but you also felt guilty because you had a feeling Bucky needed it, too.

“Your scars…” You started softly and he looked up like a hurt puppy. “They make you look even more beautiful, my love,” you assured him and caressed the exposed side of his face gently. “They make me so proud to be your woman.”

He didn’t say anything but he moved up a little to kiss your chest and then your neck while you rubbed his back in a soothing manner. And then you saw Bucky in his pyjamas leaving the bathroom and about to walk downstairs to his bedroom but he stopped and turned around to look at you and Buck. And he kept standing and looking for a long while until you parted your lips to say something but didn’t know what.

Buck noticed that something was wrong and he looked around. He spotted his best friend staring through the ajar door and he waved his hand over.

“Come,” he said and Bucky took a deep breath before joining you in the bedroom. He closed the door behind him – you weren’t waiting for anyone else.

“Come,” you said, too, as you moved a little to make more space in the bed on your other side.

Bucky nodded and got under the cover with you, pressing his face to the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent. He was trembling slightly and you realised how much he needed your comfort as well. You wrapped your arms around him now and pressed a kiss upon his forehead but Buck didn’t want to be abandoned as he attacked your neck with his wet and soft kisses on the other side. You put one of your arms around him and the other was still kept around Bucky, whose hands started to roam around your waist, pulling your nightgown up.

Gale’s kisses were making you shiver as his own hands squeezed your breasts. You moaned at the feeling – after nearly two years of being lonely and waiting, you had two men being all over you and it felt heavenly. Once again, desire and affection outcasted your shame and guilt. Was it really so wrong? Were you hurting anybody? 

In no time your nightgown was both pulled down to reveal your breasts – with your nipples perky from the cold air and stimulation – and pushed up to give them access to your wet folds. Buck’s lips were attached to your breasts as his fingers drew circles on your clit. Bucky’s mouth was all over your jaw and neck now as his long, slim fingers were fucking you in a fast and steady rhythm. Their muffled moans accompanied your whimpers of pleasure. You felt like their doll to play with and they were so touch-starved and hungry that all they wanted was to touch and feel you – nearly greedily and surely desperately.

All the fantasies they had been having about you, telling each other dirty stories, reading each other’s dirty letters you had been sending… They remembered them all now, finally being able to touch and pleasure you as if they had already forgotten you were a real person and not just a woman from their fantasy. But you were real indeed and they could finally touch you. They were both hard at the feeling of your skin, your every curve, every whine and whimper, every spasm going through your body between them. And as much as they wanted their pleasure, too – they were sure you would give it to them, they had a whole night for that, whole life perhaps. They weren’t impatient now, not at all. They were worshipping their goddess and nothing was more important than that.

With a loud moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head, toes curling and an arched back, you came hard as they kept caressing and stimulating you through your high, shushing you softly, until you slowly came back to reality.

“I…” You started, not knowing what to say but they didn’t let you finish. Bucky kissed you greedily, pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth and grabbing your face that was hot to touch after your orgasm.

When he let go of you to catch a breath, Buck turned your face to his side to kiss you the same and you felt a knot forming in your abdomen again from their greediness and neediness.

“I want to taste you,” Bucky whispered and you nodded, unsurely looking at Buck but he didn’t seem to mind. You opened your legs even further as Bucky pushed the cover aside and went down to disappear between your legs and lick you clean from your juices.

You moaned and cupped Gale’s face, pressing his forehead to yours, gasping for air as tears streamed down your cheeks when Bucky was sucking on your sensitive, swollen clit. His moustache was tickling you in a way that only turned you on even more.

“Shh, my pretty baby,” Buck cooed to you as he grabbed your wrists and kissed them all over before joining your lips together in another passionate kiss.

You could feel on your thigh how hard he was under the fabric of his pyjama pants. In fact, he was leaking already. You moved one of your hands down to grab his length as you began to pump him lazily and he moaned into your mouth while the shiver went down his spine. After such a long time he finally could feel your soft hand on his cock. He would cum very fast on that night, of that he was sure. But he trusted you, he knew you wouldn’t judge him.

And indeed, it didn’t take long for him to spill himself on your hand. He came when he saw you cumming from Bucky’s tongue – lips parted, forehead sweaty, soft moans leaving your mouth as you trembled. The sight and your hand jerking him off were enough.

“You taste like heaven,” Bucky moved up to kiss you now as he hovered above you as if he was about to fuck you missionary but you weren’t sure if you could take him now, right after two strong orgasms. So, instead, you slid your hand underneath his pyjama pants and pumped him the same way you had pumped Buck who was now cuddled to your side and breathing heavily into your neck, covering it with kisses.

It didn’t take long for Bucky either as he closed his eyes and got lost in pleasure from your soft hand. You pumped him fast and moaned softly to spur him on and not long after you felt his warm cum coating your hand.

“Good boy,” you praised as he lowered himself to join your foreheads together. You kissed him to taste yourself and to soothe him after his own orgasm before he laid down on the other side of you and cuddled you, too.

When they were both laying like that – Buck half asleep already – you stared at your hand and wondered what had become of you. But somehow, you didn’t feel anxious. In fact, in the strong and loving arms of the both of them, you felt the safest.

You couldn’t choose one of them, ever. And you would marry Buck most likely because it was the best option but you would keep Bucky close. Always keep him close. When you imagined the possibility of him marrying another woman – even to keep up appearances – it made you sick and angry. They were your boys and you were their woman.

“My sweet boys,” you cooed as you kissed Buck’s forehead and then Bucky’s. “Go to sleep, my darlings. You’re home,” you whispered and pulled the cover up over your bodies.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Me rewatching House of the Dragon and I find myself missing the Sickly!Brother concepts...

Question: since he's been sickly and thin and frail, what if he had the most longest hair out of all the Targaryen's (which Daenerys inspired her getting her braids from) but his was just a long simple braid? Instead of the trousers, he wore long robes, loose so he doesn't end up in a coughing fit so easily with tight clothing. But what if he was also feminine looking too?

Jason Lannister: Hello, beautiful 😍

Sickly!Brother, turning around: Good marrow, Lord Lannister 😃

Jason Lannister: 😨

Cue the laughing wolves meme while the middle one looks 😑

This really has me imagining Viserys’!Sickly!Brother!Reader looking like Galadriel from Lord of the Rings. Also, I just want to point out that it’s taken me a bit to answer this cause every time I come to it it makes me go into a fit of laughter.

Alicent and Rhaenyra would absolutely adore the Reader’s longer hair. Rhaenyra would always play with it as a child whenever she spent time with her favorite uncle, combing/brushing it, braiding it in as many ways as she could. While, Alicent would forbid any of the servants from touching the Reader’s hair after she takes over his care. She would be the only one allowed to take care of it and take care of it she does. She prides herself on how well she tends to her darling’s locks as she styles the Reader’s hair every day. When Helaena comes around she is also just as captivated with the Reader’s hair too.

I just imagine Daemon or Viserys coming to visit the Reader and happening upon Rhaenyra, Alicent, Helaena, Aegon, Aemond and Daeron all playing with the Reader’s hair while he’s reading a book or even just napping. Rhaenyra and Alicent would of course be glaring at each other the whole time but for the most part it’s an overall wholesome image. Not to mention afterward you would be able to tell exactly who did what to Reader’s hair with the way it’s styled.

Aegon’s styling is the messiest out of the lot. Helaena’s is very intricate and unique, down to the tie holding it together. Aemond’s styling is very regal and precise. Daeron’s is more loose but still neat. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra and Alicent’s stylings are pretty on par with each other and it pisses them both off.

I could imagine the Reader’s hair becoming a source of soothing for the people in his life, if that makes sense. Like, no matter who it is they’ll just unconsciously caress and fidget with the Reader’s hair, whether it’s loose or in its typical braid.

[swanscript]

in which you're aegon's legally-wedded and never-bedded wife - who cares so little for him that even he's noticed.

It is the hour of the bat, deep into the velvety night, and you'd had it all planned out. Your sheets are fresh. You've bathed in lavender scented water, and spent half the day drying your hair carefully by the fireside so it won't become ruffled. You've just slipped on a rose-coloured robe of the finest Dornish silk, and wriggled delightedly into bed when it happens.

The door to your bedchambers explodes open, and Aegon staggers in, roaring a drunken sea shanty.

Oh, how you hate men.

"So hey, the bonny sailors go

To Sothoryos with a rising 'ho'!"

"Aegon," you start, pushing yourself up on your pillows with the air of someone explaining something to a very stupid child. "It's late. I'm tired."

Aegon stops dead when he sees you, sitting prettily in his bed with your arms folded in bemusement. You don't think he expected to see you here. You often sleep in a different room, and when sharing his bedchambers you make it a point to keep him firmly on the other side of the mattress.

Aegon and you both know the castle staff whispers rumours of your strange and sex-less relationship. You don't care.

Aegon might, but you've decided not to care about him either. He's aware of your cold indifference - which is why he's so surprised to see you here.

"....well," he says, swaying where he stands. "If it isn't...my frigid lady-wife. Here to ice me out again?"

You don't rise to the bait. "I'm here to sleep. You're welcome to do the same."

"Oh, I'm welcome, am I? Welcome in my own bed?" Aegon hiccoughs, slowly undoing the clasps on his velvet jerkin. He lets it thud to the floor (you can bet a hundred gold dragons he'll trip over it first thing tomorrow) and begins to traipse your way. "Am I permitted to finally lay a finger on my lawful wife, or will she only let me hold her hand for appearance's sake at banquets?"

Hackles rising, you bite back at once. "Am I permitted to have a husband who doesn't fuck a different whore every night? Who doesn't reek of of alcohol? Am I permitted to not be abandoned each day for taverns and brothels? Am I permitted to sleep or must I take your leave for that too, lord-husband?"

If Aegon were sober, he might have a scalding remark in response. But the ale has filled his mind with mush, and all he can do is scowl and sulk. It doesn't please you to see him so miserable. Your heart isn't in the fight either.

Your husband thuds onto the bed with a heavy sigh, narrowly missing squashing you.

"...help me with the clasp then, if nothing else," he mutters, pointing at his bejeweled belt buckle.

Sighing, you concede, reaching forward and undoing the cool metal. It clicks apart under your deft hand, and you steal a glance up at your supposed husband.

Months of marriage, and the times when you've ever really looked at him are few and far in between. After a disasterous bedding ceremony and so many days of neglect, the two of you have learnt to not acknowledge each other's presence. As a result, Aegon's face never fails to stand out as unique to you.

Soft cloud of wispy silver hair. Eyes of pale amethyst. The classic Targaryen look - striking colour palette, ghostly shades of old Valayria. The hint of feminine features from his mother softens him. He looks lost now, his pouty mouth softly sagging with defeat. A little verbal joust with you has leeched all the revelry out of him. Right, now, soundly beaten as he is, Aegon is difficult to despise.

You tug the belt out of its loops and he mutters his slurred gratitudes.

"Can you do the rest on your own?"

He grunts in affirmative. You retreat back to your side. Both of you feel the invisible wall being drawn up between once more.

You know, when you really think about it, you suppose Aegon is a handsome man. When he's not drunk. Or bothering you just before you sleep with sappy, obnoxious questions.

"Do you love me?"

You stop in the middle of adjusting your coverlet. "What?"

Aegon is looking at you with not a hint of a joke in his eyes. He repeats the impossible possibility. "Do you love me?"

In daylight, you would have sneered at his question and swept off in a swirl of silk skirts to resume your royal day. Now, with moonshine softening the need for sharp exteriors, you decide to humour his question. No one is around to use your words against you, at least. You feel your guard lift an inch.

"Love you?" you ponder, leaning back against your richly embroidered pillows. "...I think I would be...distressed, if you died. But love you- I don't even like you." You glance his way, contemplating. "Yet."

Aegon looks at you with doubtful lilac eyes. "So there's hope?"

"Don't be too optimistic."

His face, already miserable with the weight of alcohol and fractured familial relationships, turns slightly more sour. You're not foolish. Aegon's agonies don't have much to do with you. His mother, hell-bent on making him king, and his brother, hell-bent on undermining and embarrassing him at every opportunity are his chief worries. You've never seeked to hurt him politically. But you've always remained distant, watching him carefully like a narrow-eyed cat and hissing if he gets too close. There's only so much your pride can allow after being man-handled into a strategic marriage so roughly.

But right now, weak and addled as he is, you can afford some kindness.

"Don't look so down, Aegon," you say softly. "Perhaps I'm Dorne. Eternally un-won by Targaryens."

The gentleness works - Aegon unticks like a clam and lets words come pouring out.

"I keep thinking... really feeling as though you would prefer my brother Aemond over me. Or that he would like you, at the very least. And that grasping bastard, Jacaerys." A flash of anger splits Aegon's face. "I see how he moons over you across the dinner table. Like he'd like you lay you out on his dinner plate and take bites out your skin. Take what's mine. My wife, by law if not by her own will. Mine. My skin. My soft, soft skin. I should kill him. Cunt."

Weak, you think, watching his messy torrent of emotions. Your father would have flayed you living for such risky honesty in a world so tightly controlled by reputation. Always say less than necessary. Never trust anyone, ever.

As it is, you carefully file this new information away in your head. Aemond desiring you in a marriage seems in line with his ambitious nature - your family's legendary wealth would serve him well. You doubt he cares for you as a person.

And Jacaerys.... you've seen him ogling at you a couple of times when you're really dressed to the nines, but you doubt it's anything worth thinking about. Men have always watched you in that hungry way. You have genetics to thank for that, nothing more. It doesn't aid you, ultimately.

Aegon is still muttering away darkly. "I should kill him. Cut off his riding chains so he goes screaming into the sea the next time he mounts his dragon. I think that'll fix him-"

"Don't think," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You're not particularly excellent at it, from what I've heard. I heard you thought Sir Arryk was a particularly buxom woman from behind."

Aegon sniffs. "An engraved band in his hair. What was he prettying up for, the flagstones in the corridors? I don't fancy a preening peacock guarding me."

"See, Aegon, you're lying again. And it's unneeded and strange. You were only drunk and made a wine-swayed misjudgement," you say wearily. "And you don't think he's a peacock. You think you're a peacock. You've been matching your socks with your shoes since the day I knew you."

Aegon laughs, soft and bitter.

"If you know me so well, why do you pretend your dislike is only from distance? ...you hate me because you know me. You've always...always hated me."

In sulking speech, Aegon has slowly tipped in your direction, his head inches from yours. He's too drunk and too non-commital to rearrange himself. You allow his hair to touch your silk sleeve. Pink fabric, his ash white hair fanning across it.

Then, without even really thinking or caring, you sigh and pull him onto your chest to hold him there like a babe.

"I've already said, I don't hate you."

Aegon is too drunk to jab or pull back. He lays there. You run fingers through his hair, smoothening the scattered strands into place, sorting his thoughts into neat furrows. Sleepy tears spread a wet spot onto your robe. You allow it, even through fuzzled bafflement at such weakness. What does he want, to suck on your teat? He's older than you, yet you're centuries harder. Aegon - too soft a boy for his over-reaching mother - falls asleep in barely sated turmoil, on your chest like a barely grown child.

You allow it.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (39)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: description of character death, childbirth, anxiety, sex content, smut, angst, breeding kink ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What he had done and the death of his grandfather, although it filled him with sadness, eased the tension between Dragonstone and the Red Keep to some extent. Something of a ceasefire was to last until his wife gave birth to his child.

He was horrified at how much depended on this.

To his despair, Harrenhal, although in his mind it was supposed to be a place of their solace and rest, had become a neutral fortress, with members of both the Black and Green factions arriving there.

Neither Daemon nor his mother had any intention of leaving until the matter was resolved once and for all, but they did not say so out loud. Daemon focused on searching for Larys Strong and burning nearby villages, while his mother tried to support his wife through the hardships of expecting his offspring.

Her lower abdomen swelled from his inheritance more and more each day, her breasts grew fuller, her hips wider.

Before his eyes she was changing, becoming even more feminine.

Although the maester's indications were different, in the privacy of his chamber they made love to each other, unable to maintain restraint in this aspect.

He did not dare to be aggressive or violent towards her, treating her body as if it were a temple; his fingers, as he pressed his naked body against her back, lying on his side with her, made sure that she would be all wet and moist before he put his erection, aching with desire, into her.

Once he was sure her body would accept him with ease, he lifted her soft thigh gently, allowing her hand to direct the head of his cock into her slit. His free hand clamped down on her full, plump, soft breast as with a slow, unhurried thrust he opened her lazily on his swollen length, moaning with her in delight.

"– yes –" She breathed out, clasping her hands on his arms that embraced her, rocking her hips, trying to find a rhythm with him and force him to accelerate.

"– no, sweet girl – we're only going to tease this little cunt – we can't hurt the baby –" He whispered in her ear, placing sticky, hot kisses on her neck and shoulders, leaving wet marks behind as his hard manhood opened her slick, fleshy walls again and again with the soft, deep stabs of his hips.

She shook her head, her breath heavy at the thought that he might take it out of her when it felt so good, when he was filling her insides so wonderfully again, thirsting for his closeness.

"– please – please, husband, inside me –" She mumbled out, tilting her head back with a sigh of euphoria as his thumb pressed hard on her puffy nipple, teasing it between his fingers. Her core clenched greedily on his erection, sucking it in, making him involuntarily speed up.

"– fuck –" He exhaled, feeling his will to slide out of her move away from him with each faster, sharper thrust. He gave up when he heard the loud clicks of her wetness as he began to pound into her with all his strength, panting hard along with her, chasing his fulfilment.

"– is this what you want? – you're carrying my baby, and you already want another? – hm? –" He hissed, driving his fingers into her wonderfully soft, hot breast. She squirmed at his words, grabbing his hair from behind, responding with movements of her hips to his thrusts, soaking his cock wet.

"– yes –" She mumbled out, already thinking with her weeping cunt rather than her sober mind.

"– fucking beg – beg your uncle –" He growled, tightening his hand around her neck, careful not to overdo it though. She moaned loudly, her leaking, hot walls giving his throbbing erection a thirsty, quick squeeze.

"– please – p-please, uncle, oh gods – oh gods, oh gods –" She babbled as he felt her wetness run down her thighs with her fulfilment, his hand stroking her swollen abdomen before he sighed heavily in relief, his warm spend filling her insides again.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, letting go of her neck, snuggling her back into him, placing loud, hot kisses on her neck. He felt her jump up suddenly, excited, and she grabbed his hand quickly, placing it on her stomach.

"– can you feel it, uncle? – here –" She gasped, and indeed, he seemed to feel movement under her skin, and then again and again.

He blinked, breathing loudly through his mouth, and smiled involuntarily, feeling warmth in his heart at the thought that their child lived deep inside her, safe and sound.

Their little dragon.

"– yes – yes, I can feel it –" He whispered, pressing his cheek against hers, looking at their entwined hands.

"– our child has sensed our excitement –" She said with amusement, and he hummed at her words, placing a lazy, soft kiss on her shoulder.

With each week, the baby in her womb made her more and more uncomfortable – her ankles swelled from even a short walk, she was dying once from the heat and once from the cold.

He felt helpless knowing that everything she was experiencing was on her shoulders, and there was nothing he could do to relieve her even for a moment.

As her husband, he made sure that every evening there was a tub of warm or cold water waiting for her, depending on her mood, sitting by her side and stroking her hair as she lay in the bath with her eyes closed, trying to relax. Before bed, he massaged her back, calves and feet, wanting to ease her pain a little.

"– ah! –" She hissed, trying to get away from his knuckles that were digging into her spine. "– not so hard! – it hurts –"

"– I have to do it hard – otherwise it won't have any effect –" He replied, pulling her back to him, putting as much force into his massage as he saw fit. She quivered in his embrace, begging him to stop, and when he finally finished, she sighed in relief as she felt the tension leave her muscles.

"– better? –" He asked, and she nodded wordlessly.

The only comfortable sleeping position for her was lying on her side, so he embraced her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and their child.

Although the presence of her father and brother, as well as his mother, drove him mad, on the other hand, he felt safer because of them, knowing that he was not watching over their safety alone.

A few months earlier he had not believed it possible, but he and his niece were once again conversing with each other as they had when they were children: frankly and directly, sometimes leading to arguments and anger which, however, quickly passed and they fell asleep each evening in a tender embrace.

The knowledge that he shared everything he was experiencing with her, the weight of the future, the weight of his inheritance, the weight of the crown made him have the strength to bear it.

He could finally see a meaning in it all, as if at last the gods had revealed to him the purpose of his life.

The being growing in her womb fascinated him more and more – he could lie for hours with his cheek nestled against her belly swollen from his heritage, kissing her warm skin, her fingers playing with strands of his hair.

The thing that excited him most was the fact that his baby moved often or kicked hearing his voice.

"You don't let your mother sleep at night. You squirm terribly." He murmured and smiled involuntarily when he felt the little creature twist inside her.

Increasingly, he wondered, had his father cuddled in this way with his mother's body when she carried him under her heart? Or did that honour accrue only to Aemma?

He felt a cold sweat on his back thinking about his wife's grandmother and what had happened to her.

He promised himself that he would save his niece's life even if it meant the death of his child.

He preferred to live through his grief and beget another than lose her again.

Daemon, unable to bear being in the same fortress with his mother, gave himself completely to the search for Lord Strong and, to everyone's surprise, he found him where no one expected him to be: in King's Landing.

He didn't know who had reported this to his uncle, but he assumed that the women in the brothels were his eyes and ears: he had received word that Larys Strong was hiding in one of the ports and wanted to get out of Westeros by ship in one of the empty wine barrels, to disappear forever in Essos and never be found.

Daemon was quicker, and although his original plan was different, he liked the vision of having his head impaled on a spike. The rest of his body was thrown into the river, while he took the part from the neck upwards with him only to throw it under his wife's feet.

"He lived like a rat and died like a rat." He said.

Then, to her despair, he ordered his head to be stuck on a spike above the walls of Harrenhal to welcome all comers, warning them to know what would befall those who threatened his children.

Although he felt regret and shame that he was not the one who had caught him, he was immensely relieved to know that everything had returned to some point from which their family could begin again.

He didn't believe he could ever forgive Luke and didn't want to see him: all he wanted was for him to rule in Driftmark, beget his bastard children and not appear before his face.

The thought of Jace inheriting Dragonstone filled him with frustration, however, he knew that this compromise for everyone was bittersweet, and he had to swallow his deep sip in silence.

What he had written to her about in his letter had come true.

Each of them had to sacrifice something.

What bothered him was that the closer it got to the childbirth, the more his wife became silent and thoughtful, closing herself off in her mind.

He knew this was not a good sign.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked sitting down next to her on the bed, pulling her out of her reverie. She blinked and shook her head, stroking her swollen lower abdomen.

"About nothing." She whispered.

"I want to know." He said impatiently, and she sighed heavily. She pressed her lips together, as if she was embarrassed by what she was about to say.

"My body will never be the same again after… after this." She confessed, and he blinked, completely not understanding what she meant.

"I do not follow."

She closed her eyes, impatient and distraught, tightening her fingers on her nightgown.

"My body after I give birth. My stomach, my thighs, my breasts. They will never be the same again. I'll probably have scars, my skin won't be as firm, it will be…"

"Do you really want to speak with me about scars? About irreversible changes?" He asked roughly, and she lowered her head, her eyes red from tears of shame.

"I told you it was nothing." She muttered in a trembling voice, not looking at him.

He pressed his lips together, feeling a discomfort in his stomach, knowing that he had reacted inappropriately and this was not what he meant. He sighed, considering for a moment whether or not to do it, and then decided it was the only way.

He reached into his left eye and grasped the sapphire that had been inserted into his eye socket, then took it out, for the first time in the presence of another person.

He turned his face towards her, but her gaze was fixed on her hands.

"Look at me." He said softly.

She lifted her eyes to his and froze, surprised, her lips parted involuntarily.

"– Aemond –"

"– do you consider me disgusting? – unworthy of your love? – would you betray me and my trust by what you now see before you? –" He asked, and she shook her head quickly, her breath heavy.

"– no – no, of course not, my love – I –"

"– do you think I'm looking at every part of your body making sure it doesn't change? – that I believe that though I grow old, you will be forever young? – do you count the scars I have on my body? – do you pay attention to them, think about them when you make love to me? –" He continued to ask, tears one after another running down her cheeks. She looked at him pleadingly, shaking her head.

"– no –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

"– so why do you judge me so unfairly? – because I am a man and you are a woman? – you think you're beautiful because you're young? – you're beautiful because you're mine – because you smile at the sight of me, because your bare body is warm and moist for me, because your breasts and hips are soft when I dig my fingers into them –" He whispered, placing his hand on her knee, sliding it down to her thigh.

She looked at him with big eyes in silence, quivering, listening to him in complete silence, wiping her tears from her face flushed with emotion.

"– those are beautiful words – you moved me deeply –"

"– I love you –" He said without thinking and nodded his head as if admitting to himself that he was right. "– as you put it – it's not love like in poems – it's something painfully real –"

Although he thought they still had a few more days, the delivery took them by surprise, and his wife simply collapsed one morning as her servants were helping her dress, a loud, surprised moan leaving her lips.

"– Aemond – Aemond, g-gods, it has begun –" She cried.

He called Alys, his mother and the servants to help her immediately, not knowing what he was supposed to do himself, her face flooded with tears, the terror in her eyes that made him helpless.

She was suffering, and he could not help her.

"– leave, my Prince –" Alys ordered, and he nodded, watching her with a look of defiance.

"– she is to survive –"

The Witch of Harrenhal grinned, understanding what he meant.

As in his dream, he, Daemon and Jace were left alone in the other chamber that belonged to him, adjacent to the one where his wife lay. He covered his face with his hands, hearing her cries clearly, her screams and moans, feeling himself tremble all over, his heart in his throat.

His niece tried to bring his offspring into the world in pain, suffering for him and his cause, and he could only sit and wait.

"– childbirth – a nightmare for wives and husbands – drink, nephew –" Daemon said in a bored, tired voice, himself visibly tense, handing him a cup of wine, which he did not, however, take from him. His uncle laughed under his breath.

"– you are as stubborn as your mother –"

He did not answer, staring dully ahead.

He was afraid, hearing her whines, that his dream would become reality, and the thought that he might lose her once again made him feel a terrifying emptiness in his mind.

He frowned when the sounds suddenly stopped, involuntarily glancing at Daemon. He was horrified to see that his uncle had also turned pale, looking towards the door, knowing that this was either a very good or very bad sign.

"What's happening?" He muttered finally, feeling like he was about to explode.

"Don't panic." Daemon answered him, licking his lower lip quickly.

Everyone jumped in their seats as the door to the chamber opened suddenly – his mother stepped inside, and they all stood up, pale and terrified.

The Queen smiled.

"You have a son."

"And her?"

"She is well. You can see her."

He rushed out of the chamber, panting heavily, and opened the door to the quarters where his wife lay. He only breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her face – she was all red and sweaty, her cheeks swollen from tears of exertion and emotion, strands of her beautiful dark hair stuck to her face.

She smiled at the sight of him in a way from which he felt like crying, only after a moment noticing the small creature wrapped in a white cloth writhing in her embrace.

He walked closer to them, feeling himself quivering all over, sitting down on the bed beside her, looking in disbelief at his inheritance, their shared effort, their shared hope.

"He has your beautiful hair. Your mother is pleased." She said, exhausted and amused. He embraced her and pressed her to his chest, kissing her fragrant hair with tenderness again and again, not knowing how else he would show her what he felt.

The fact that they had a son pleased him, but the real relief for him was that she had endured the labour so well.

He swallowed loudly and only then did he look more carefully at his son, touching his fingertips to his hand, which had clenched into a fist on his finger.

"– see? – he recognises his father –" She murmured softly, rocking the white-haired infant before placing a soft, warm kiss on its small forehead. Their son squirmed and yawned, opening his eyelids for a moment.

He felt hot at the thought that his son had her eyes.

"– what shall we name him? –" His wife asked, snapping him out of his reverie, laying her head on his shoulder. He mused for a moment, stroking her neck.

"– Viserys – as the man who betrothed us –"

[bratzforchris]

could you do one where chris and reader bring their daughter home from the hospital after she's just born? i love your writings!!!!

My Girl, C. Sturniolo

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Summary: In which bringing your and Chris's first baby home from the hospital results in a core memory<3

Pairing: Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of a difficult labor and its effects (not graphic!), young parents

Word Count: 974

A/N: Y'all my baby fever has been so bad lately (I'm 19 and single 🤡) and dad!Chris did NOT help. Thank you for the request and you cuties enjoy a fluffy Chris fic<33

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Chris gently lifted the enormous, pink carseat out of the back of the car, hoisting it onto his arm. He was beyond exhausted from the past three days. Granted, all he had ever wanted in life was to be a father, especially when you would be the mother. And so, he picked up the car seat with renewed energy, coming around the side of the car and opening up your door. 

“You good, ma?” he asked you, protective instincts kicking in as he watched you struggle to unbuckle your seat and step out of the car. 

“I just had a baby, dumbass. My hips are killing me and I’m wearing a diaper. What do you think the answer is?”

Between a long labor, the hustle and bustle of the hospital, and the typical aches and pains that came post-birth, you were a bit snappy after the events of the past three days. Nevertheless though, you planted a kiss on Chris’s cheek, eliciting a grin from your husband. 

“Glad to see the pregnancy didn’t take that fiery attitude I love so much.” Chris smiled, wrapping his arm around you to support you as you slowly walked with one hand and carrying the carseat that held your sleeping daughter in the other. 

 You two slowly began the trek up your front steps, with Chris supporting you the whole way. But before you could open the front door, it was flung open for you, revealing Nick and Matt. They stepped out quickly, eager to get a glimpse of their new niece. They exchanged squeals over how cute your baby girl was until Chris finally shoved them off, protective over his little family. 

“Can we get inside first?” he asked, rolling his eyes then smiling at you affectionately. 

The brothers allowed you to step inside the house, where both your and Chris’s parents were waiting, slightly more polite than his brothers. You quickly sat down on the couch with the help of your husband, winded from the short walk up the driveway. Chris quickly placed your daughter in your arms and sat beside you with a proud smile as everyone else gathered around on your large couch and on the rug. 

“So, have you two decided on a name?” Your mother asked excitedly, her eyes shining with joy. 

“We have,” You and Chris looked at each other and smiled as your daughter yawned in your arms, smacking her little lips. “Charlotte Marie Sturniolo.” You said in unison. 

Just as you spoke, Charlotte opened her eyes and yawned, letting out a tiny coo. Luckily, your families had been very respectful of your and Chris’s boundaries about holding her, especially since flu season was currently rampant. That didn’t deter anyone from letting out noises of affection at their new daughter, niece, and granddaughter, though. In your comical families, however, cute moments didn’t last long, which led to Nick piping up. 

“Can you say Lady Gaga?” he asked. “La-dy Ga-ga.”

Chris rolled his eyes, playfully kicking his brother, which received a giggle from you. “She’s a newborn.”

“I’m raising her to have culture.” Nick shrugged, flipping his hair across his forehead. 

As everyone continued to talk, your husband noted how you (and Charlotte) had become more quiet, snuggling into his side. He knew the whole birthing process had been extremely difficult on you, and selfishly, he really wanted some alone time with his little family. 

“Should we go upstairs?” he asked you, whispering in your ear and brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. 

You nodded softly, already on the verge of falling asleep as you felt your infant daughter snuggle into you. “Yes please.” You whispered back.

“Well, we would love to keep chatting, but duty calls,” Chris helped you stand up, adjusting Charlotte so she could still cuddle onto your chest. “My girls need me.”

By the time you two had made it upstairs, you were exhausted, but could still hear the talking of your family below, murmuring softly about what great parents you two already were. Granted, it had only been a few days, but in your opinion, you both already were. Despite being on the younger side, you and Chris both loved your daughter with your whole heart, and that was what you wanted the most. 

“Thanks for what you did back there,” You yawned as Chris tucked you into bed after placing Charlotte, who was fast asleep, in her crib. “I’m really tired.” 

“I could tell,” Your husband bustled around the room, straightening things up to lessen the load on your plate. “You’re so strong, baby.”

You were almost asleep, but you could sense that Chris had stopped moving, which with your husband, meant he was up to something. “Chris? Baby, what are you doing?”

You peeked open your eyes, only for your heart to practically burst. Chris had taken his shirt off and removed your daughter’s onesie, allowing her to cuddle skin-to-skin on his chest. He smiled over at you as she yawned, fisting his skin. 

“Look!” he whisper-shouted with the biggest smile on his face. “We’re cuddling!” 

You smiled, enjoying the scene before you. “She looks so cozy.”

Chris began to sway and dance softly, singing ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations quietly. “My baby girl. God, I love you so much. You and your mommy are my rock, honey.”

You could hear the happy tears in your husband’s voice as he sang to Charlotte, and that was the moment you knew that you had made the right choice for the father of your children. Chris had been nothing but supportive throughout your whole pregnancy and labor, and it was clear he was carrying that energy into fatherhood as well. You took a mental snapshot, filing away this moment for later because you knew this would always be one you came back to.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @idek3000hi @melguilbert @oobleoob

[makethemmilky]

Amy and Liz had been best friends and roommates for years. They did practically everything together, and after a bit too much to drink one night that included both of them being impregnated by Liz’s boyfriend. It had all started innocently enough, with Liz talking about their plans to have kids after they were more settled, and after a few more drinks Amy confessing she’d always wanted to be a mom but feeling frustrated by not being able to meet the right guy. Alcohol certainly played a role, but there was also something primal in Liz that convinced her to encourage her boyfriend to fuck her best friend. Soon afterwards Liz was watching Amy bounce up and down on his cock while feeling the warmth of his seed inside her own cunt. In the drunken haze that followed nobody really remembered what happened, and neither girl realized that years of living together had left them ovulating at the same time. It was only around the time Liz went up a bra size and Amy couldn’t get her jeans to snap did they realize what had happened.

The hormones and the changes altering their bodies more and more each day left both women feeling hornier than they’d ever been before. Soon the comforting feeling each girl had of knowing the other was going through the same thing gave way to something harder and hotter. As their bellies began to dome and their nipples darkened the girls themselves found themselves reveling in the changes happening to themselves, the same changes they could see obviously occurring on the other’s body. Each girl could feel themselves become more beautiful and more desperate, and they could see the same thing happening to each other. For six months they resisted, but as they grew rounder and more beautifully feminine it became impossible to avoid each other.

One day they finally snapped. Liz had been staring at her swollen form in the mirror, marveling at the first drops of milk beginning to flow from her engorged tits, when Amy walked in, wearing only a flowing robe, one of the few items of clothing still comfortable in her expanded state.

"Look," Liz said, directing her friend’s gaze to the slow-moving drops emanating from her erect nipples.

“I can’t believe you’re making milk,” Amy said. “I’m not making any yet. How does it feel?”

“It feels,” Liz said, struggling to describe the sensation, “kind of good. Like there’s a pressure building inside of me that I need to let out?”

Amy immediately what her friend meant. For weeks she’d felt the same pressure bubbling inside of her, and she also knew exactly what she wished somebody would do about it.

“Would it helped if I&hellip;sucked some of out?”

Liz shuddered and she felt her nipples distend even further. For months she’d been feeling this feminine longing she couldn’t quite articulate and now, at this exact moment, she realized it was a longing to feed someone, anyone, her delicious milk.

“That would be, uh, nice,” Liz said before gingerly folding up her brown areola to her friend’s mouth.

In a moment six months’ worth of pentup libido came pouring out, with the two women pushing into each other passionately, their bulging bellies grinding into each other as each gasped at the newfound sensitivity of their rounded midsections. In the small remaining corner of her mind Amy compared how similar, and yet how different Liz’s altered body was to her own. Amy carried her bump higher and it was even a little bigger than her own, while Liz’s breasts, originally the smaller of two, had grown significantly with milk and now far surpassed he friend’s. Even if she didn’t yet have milk of her own, Liz was sure that Amy’s sensitive dark nubs would enjoy playing with just as much as her own. Instinctively each girl grabbed their growing tits and pressed them against each other, the sensation of rock-hard nipples caressing darkened, ultra-sensitive areolae.

Liz had never gone down on another woman before. But having felt her own body change over the past months she knew exactly where and how Amy would want to be touched. Even as she lowered her tongue to Amy’s pronounced clit she could feel her own body pulsing with the need to be sucked and fucked. For well over an hour the two preggos went at it, coaxing countless orgasms out of bodies that seemed capable of producing more and stronger ones than they’d ever previously felt before. By the end they lay collapsed on the couch, gently stroking each other’s bellies and marveling at the changes to both themselves and their relationship.

They understood each other, and each others’ changing bodies, better than anybody else ever could. Right there they decided they would raise their children together and make sure they both produced many more by staying heavy and round with child together. Still, as connected as they now were, both realized they loved the feeling of being bred by a hard cock, and if they wanted to fulfill their dreams of staying pregnant forever they would need a consistent source of seed.

Luckily Amy had a plan. When he returned home Liz’s boyfriend would be in for a shock when he learned that there were now two women wanting to kept full of his babies at all times.

[shy-writer-999]

Slow Burn (Part 1): Sexually frustrated Zoro touches himself at night while thinking about you.

Warnings: MDNI AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Author’s note: This three part story is a slow, slow burn. There’s more plot than porn. Reader’s character is a woman and Zoro is lowkey a freak, but only lets himself fantasize about you at night. I feel like he wears black boxer briefs for some reason. Also, I love em-dashes. This is mildly edited, but please excuse any typos. Enjoy!

Slow Burn, pt. 1: Sexually frustrated Zoro touches himself at night while thinking about you.

Zoro couldn't help how much attention he paid to you. He tried to shrug it off and talk himself out of what was quickly becoming a problem for him—his growing crush on you. He couldn't help but notice how you giggled the loudest when Sanji called him mosshead, how you would go out of your way to spend a few moments chatting and smiling with him every day, and how your peculiarly intense gaze seemed to linger just a second too long when you locked eyes. No matter how much he tried to deny it or rationalize it away, those split seconds of eye contact made his stomach flip, in other words, you gave him butterflies. He would tell himself that inter-crew romance was wrong, that he shouldn't waste his time pining after women, that the only reason he was feeling these things was because he hadn't been with someone in ages. He told himself that he only felt this way because he was basically forced to be around you and that it was only natural for a man like him to find you attractive, therefore he could ignore those butterflies and write the feelings off as a harmless fancy, unimportant and meaningless.

But the issue was that no matter how much rationalizing he attempted, his feelings for you had far surpassed these natural impulses and made-up excuses. That's just what he had—feelings. Complicated feelings that made themselves apparent when he watched you, out of the corner of his eye, put your hair up in a ponytail. He would notice the feminine and soft curve of your neck, the wisps of hair that you gathered up with your pretty fingers, and a thought would jump out at him: I bet the back of her neck smells good. Then he would pause and self-reprimand: Where the fuck did that come from? Get a grip man. And he would shift his eyes away.

One day you brushed arms. The hallways of the ship got crowded if more than a couple people were trying pass through, and in this instance, you were exiting the kitchen after dinner when Luffy barreled past you with Zoro close behind him. Luffy practically shoved you out of the way, shouting something about meat, and his shove past you pushed you towards Zoro. Your skin met for maybe a second or less as you bumped into each other. He muttered out a "sorry about that" and then immediately he walked away, shouting at Luffy to pay more attention to where he was going.

Zoro tried to be nonchalant and play it off to himself that he was not feeling any sort of way about touching your skin (even if it was only your arm). But he was lying to himself. His stomach flipped and as he followed Luffy into the kitchen all he could think about was your skin and how warm and soft it was. His mind trailed off… would other parts of your body feel like that too?  He shook his head attempting to get the thoughts out. If you're going to think about it, at least save it for later dumbass, he said to himself.

He knew he was screwed when he started musing about you yourself, not your body, but who you actually are. It was as basic as him wondering what is her favorite food? What is her favorite sort of music? and yet these musings could get as complicated as What does she dream about at night? What does she want from her life? and most importantly, What does she think of me?

He would only let himself get this deep in thought as he settled in for bed. These were nighttime thoughts and became completely irrelevant during the day (or so he told himself). He also told himself it was just normal to wonder these things about his shipmates—after all, you were all close friends and spent lots of time together. But at his core he knew this wasn't the case. How he felt towards you was different. Little did you know, but he was actually in agony any time you were around. He started inadvertently blushing, hyper-vigilantly watching you from his peripherals, and he even would go so far as to smile at you with a bit more sweetness than was normal for him. No one else could tell that he smiled at you different, but he knew it and so did you. You could see it in the way his lips curled ever so slightly more, and you could see a special softness in his eyes that you had quickly learned to recognize. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

The night you brushed arms he was so pent up he had to get out of bed and spend some time alone in the bathroom. This was becoming a habit for him. When he indulged in his fantasies and finally let that part of him run wild, he imagined the dirtiest scenarios. So dirty that he felt guilty about them the next day. It started out pretty tame, though. First, he thought about how he wanted to fuck you everywhere on the ship. Missionary in the crow's nest, doggy style in the galley with you bent over the counter, reverse cowgirl on the deck in the middle of the day, you straddling him in the tub—you name it.

He would start his sessions in the bathroom by breathing deeply and palming his painfully hard cock in his boxer briefs, running his other hand over his taught chest and arm muscles. He would grind his cock harder and harder with his palm, thinking about how you would look straddling him, pulling your top off and leaning over him so your hair cascaded down on his face and your eyes and lips were centimeters apart. He imagined how it would feel to take handfuls of your breasts, massaging and sucking on them, how you would let out a little whine when he played with your nipples, how you would yelp when he smacked your ass so hard it would leave a bruise.

At this point he would fully take his cock out of his briefs and start shamelessly stroking himself, trying to contain the groans and grunts that slipped from his lips. The precum leaked out when he imagined how good you would feel grinding his cock inside of you, how he would grip the soft skin on your hips so roughly, how you would use him to get off. That's one of the thoughts that got him riled up the most—the idea of you feeling good with his cock. Even more, he loved the idea of you feeling so good that you would cream on his cock, your walls constricting as you let out your own moans of pleasure. And of course, he loved the idea of cumming inside you, too. He would imagine the sight of his cum leaking out of you, and if he wasn't lucky enough to cum inside you, he would be happy to cum anywhere you'd let him, like your pretty mouth. He would start to moan your name as quietly as he could, throwing his head back and shaking with pleasure.

The really dirty thoughts happened when he got closer to orgasm. As he got more desperate and more feral at the thought of you, touch starved and drunk off of the pleasure of fisting his own cock furiously, he would start to think of pulling your hair, sloppily spitting in your mouth, finger fucking you almost to completion then making you beg for it, he would even think of calling you names like "pretty girl" or "good girl," depending on the day. On really thirsty days he would imagine you calling him daddy, telling him to stop (role play, of course, with a safe word), he would imagine calling you "bad girl" or "nasty girl" and he would spank you then top it all off by fucking you in the ass as "punishment". Some days he would imagine you calling him a “good boy” and giving him praise, or the opposite. The nastier and, honestly, weirder it got, he stroked himself harder and faster. "Fuck," he would hiss out between his teeth, shaking. He would moan as quietly as he could, mouthing your name, finally cumming hot white ropes all over his hand. He would let out a deep sigh, clean himself up, and go to bed finally. The next day he would go about his business like nothing happened, and indeed, he would be fine without his nightly bathroom session as long as he stayed away from you.

During the day, Zoro would get back to rationalizing and compartmentalizing his feelings about you, anything to stop falling for you. He simply ignored the guilt he felt inside from thinking such nasty sexual thoughts about you. But Zoro got to a point where that just wasn't possible anymore. Between his almost-nightly bathroom sessions, feeling depraved and crazy, and your lingering smiles and occasional bouts of intense eye contact, he could feel himself crumbling. But of course, Zoro was prideful to a fault and even more than that, he was shy. No one would expect it from the swordsman, but he really was awkward, sensitive, and shy under all those layers of strength and stoicism. So he could never bring himself to confess to you, and he kept navigating life on the ship in close proximity to you, balancing your friendship and company with how insanely horny and needy he was for no one else but you. Zoro could only keep up this balancing act for so long. He would reach a breaking point eventually. His self-control was being exerted to the absolute maximum, and he spent so much time pining after you that it was actually starting to get in the way of his training. But he told himself it would be fine, that these thoughts would settle down eventually, and that he had to pay them no mind. He started to think of new ways to handle all his pent-up energy, and he landed on the idea of simply distancing himself from you ever so slightly. Less time in your presence would mean less time that his brain would be disposed to go wild with fantasies. He decided that that was his only option, and slowly started shifting how he moved near you. It was initially a minuscule change, but you noticed immediately that something was off.

Stay tuned for part two: Zoro's been acting pretty weird and rude. What's his problem?

See part 3 for more smut!

[blueeyedgirll]

until the sun came up again - katsuki bakugo x reader

this fic includes: angst that turns happy, mostly g/n but there’s a feminine compliment at the end, you and bakugo have mental issues, rule breaking aaaaahhh, bakugo is vulnerable and also a gentleman, slightly awkward first date, y’all move QUICK

when you and bakugo first started dating, it happened purely by chance.

you hadn't bothered to check the clock before walking out of your dorm. whatever time it was, it was too late for you to be wandering around, but that didn't matter to you. you just needed to clear your head.

you just so happened to reach the lounge area of the dorms at the exact moment that bakugo had reached such a low mental point he was ready to ask for help, and you weren't in a much better spot.

you saw him leaned over a counter. you saw the look on his face. it wasn't hard to see that he needed help. any idiot could have figured that out. the issue was that not just any idiot could have broken down his barriers far enough for him to let you in.

except you, of course.

you approach him mostly to offer, but also to subtly ask for help. knowing that he could metaphorically (and literally) explode at any wrong move you made, you get his attention and ask if he wanted to talk.

you weren't sure if the stars had aligned, divine intervention was to blame, or you had just majorly lucked out. all you knew for sure was that sneaking out of UA high with katsuki bakugo was a pleasant surprise.

it was a little awkward at first, just the two of you walking in sneaky silence out of your dorm building.

neither of you really knew where you were going or how you were going to get there, just that you needed to get away from that school and everything it meant for you. the danger, the fame, the fear of failure, and all the other issues that ate away at you while you struggled to sleep.

eventually, after walking quite a ways away, you came across a little pond that you had never seen before. conveniently, it had a small bench that would just fit the both of you.

the space between you two was slightly smaller than socially normal, but did it really matter when all you wanted was to talk?

you both sat in silence for a few minutes which felt like hours, just watching and listening to the pond fountain spray water back into itself.

you spoke up first.

you asked him what kept him awake so late.

he explained his inter turmoil, surprising you with how similar it was to your own issues.

the fear of failure. the feeling of hopelessness. the danger that one day you won't be strong enough to fight off a villain. the fear of not being good enough, and even worse, never being able to become better.

while his inner emotions and thoughts were much different than the persona he displayed at school and in social interactions, they didn't surprise you.

of course he felt that way. everyone here did, no matter how mighty or confident they may seem.

you spent the next few hours -- long enough that the sun had begin to bring color to the sky -- just talking. about everything there was to talk about. the more bakugo opened up to you, the more you realized how amazing he really was.

you walked back, quietly continuing your conversation. the both of you felt much better after venting, and had moved on to a lighter conversation. poking fun at classmates and whatnot.

the both of you snuck back into the dorms and wished each other a good night before parting ways.

when you got into bed in the next few minutes after that, you didn't immediately fall asleep like you expected. your thoughts lingered on bakugo, and how vulnerable he was with you.

it was only ever you he acted like that with.

you had never even heard of another occasion where he had opened up to someone that much, but something about you...

if sneaking out of the dorms once with bakugo was weird, him asking you to do it again was even weirder.

he caught you after class a few days after the first time you had met, and vaguely alluded to your previous rendezvous, as to not interest his classmates, asking to do it again.

and so you did.

you met up with him in the dead of night, snuck out of the dorms, and sat on that bench and talked like no time had passed since the first night you talked. it was the same routine as last time. just getting things off your chest and venting about your problems until the sun came up again.

and again.

it wasn't as jarring, but still surprising when you opened up a note from bakugo that had been slid under your door.

the note was short and to the point, reading no more than "let's do that again. meet me in the lobby at 1am. -k"

even though you knew this likely meant he was in a dark place again, something about it excited you. likely the sentiment of him initiating yet another intimate conversation with you.

another thing you noticed was that instead of signing it with his last initial, as most people strictly referred to him as bakugo (because in any other case they would face his wrath), he signed off with a k.

was he finally approving your use of his first name?

you could find out that night.

you made your way back to the same spot in the lobby you had met with bakugo (katsuki?) with the last few times, and sure enough, there he stood.

the lights had been turned off for hours, but the moonlight shining through the window illuminated his features and his torso, covered by a well-fitting black tank top.

lucky you.

you decide to test your theory by saying just above a whisper "hey, katsuki."

he turns to you, and for a split second you thought he was upset, but he greets you in a slightly warmer manner than usual.

"let's go," he begins.

you take the same path you took a few nights before, to the same pond, and sat on the same bench.

it seemed like katsuki sat just a bit closer this time around. not enough of a difference to point out, but you definitely noticed.

again, you sat in silent attention to the pond's sound until you spoke.

"are you doing alright?"

"fine, just... needed to talk about something."

he recalls something that had happened at training the day before. in the middle of a student vs. student battle training, he had looked away for a split second and was near blown off his feet by his opponent's quirk. instead of cheering for the other student, everybody went silent.

it was humiliating, especially for someone like katsuki who consistently preached self-confidence.

he explained the awful feeling he got.

that same fear of not being good enough that had constantly nagged at him for years, just much stronger.

he didn't really have to, though. you saw the look on his face when it had happened.

after he had gotten what he needed to off of his chest, you explained that half of the people in that class had also suffered a loss, and that to really be great, you had to push past any losses you may suffer.

he paused.

he paused for longer than you were comfortable with. you immediately assumed the worst -- that it wasn't the right thing to say, and he didn't trust you for advice any more.

but he turned to look at you after a moment, right in the eyes, and you could have sworn you saw a smile cross his face.

"thanks."

this view, from this night specifically, was something you would think about near daily from this point forward.

the moon shone down on his face, highlighting his beautifully balanced features just like it did in the lobby earlier that night. the way his red eyes shone, especially when staring into yours, etched itself into your brain and made sure you wouldn't forget that sight any time soon.

you came to the realization that he was lethally handsome.

actually, it was less of a realization and more of a vigorous reminder, because of course you knew he was handsome before this, just not this handsome.

"thanks for listening to me," he spoke again, his voice soothing and deep.

"it's no problem." you paused. "i've actually really enjoyed talking to you like this.”

“me too,” he quietly responded.

and so after a bit of awkward silence, the two of you carried on your conversation as usual. this time, however, it was less a last-ditch effort to release some pressure, and more just… talking. like friends.

you discussed teachers you dislike, teachers you do like, school stories, visions for the future, hopes, dreams… anything you could think of until the sun came up again,

and when it did, you walked home, having a giggly conversation about something a classmate did.

now, the fourth time, katsuki was a bit more formal approaching you.

he came up to you, again a few days later, during lunch and ushered you away from your friends for a moment (to which they giggled and exclaimed for you to “go get some”) and took you right outside the cafeteria, where nobody else was standing.

he looked at you. you noticed that lately, he looks at you so much differently than he does other people.

“so, there’s this new sushi restaurant that opened a few minutes away from UA…”

he paused for a moment. you didn’t say anything, waiting to see where he takes this.

“do you… wanna go tonight? not super late this time, cause they close at 10, so maybe like… 6?”

you pause for a second. this sounded a lot like a date.

“are you asking me on a date, katsuki?” you say in a teasing tone.

“…” he pauses. “do you want to go or not?!”

“yes, i want to go. i’ll meet you in the lobby at 5:30.”

“good.”

katsuki takes a last glance at you, and skulks back off to the cafeteria.

that night, you put on a cute outfit and meandered down to the lounge. you were exactly 2 minutes early, so you knew you had a wait.

you see kaminari walking up to you from across the room. you and him had grown pretty close since school started, so it was nice to see him.

“you look nice! what are you up to?” he asks.

“you know… going on a date.”

“with WHO?!” he exclaims.

“your mother. i have to go now!” you sing, seeing katsuki enter the room. you blow past a very confused kaminari, who becomes even more confused upon seeing you walk away with katsuki.

instead of walking directly to your destination like you had each time before, katsuki led you to the parking lot behind the school and into his car, making sure to open the door so you got in smoothly.

he drove you to the sushi restaurant, which was only a few minutes away. not much was said in the car drive, only the music on the radio and the faint hum of the car.

before you sat down, just like a good old gentleman would, katsuki pulled out your wooden chair for you. you smile.

you decide to poke fun at his actions, noticing how different they were from his normal behavior.

“what a gentleman you are!”

“no other way to do it, if you ask me,” he responds, not fully meeting your eyes.

“i like it.” you smile at him, locking your eyes with his deep red ones.

“…good.”

you fell into a comfortable silence, unlike the awkward lack of conversation when you had spent time together before, but of course that didn’t last forever.

“you look nice,” katsuki hesitantly said.

“thank you. you do, too.” you took notice of his jeans — that fit him well, unlike most of his other pairs — that he wore under a form fitting black tee shirt that clearly accentuated his muscles.

to make conversation (and avoid ogling), you brought up the upcoming test you had in hero studies that had been at the back of your mind for days.

“i can help you study if you need. i know it pretty well,” katsuki offered.

“really? thank you.”

“no problem. i like hanging out with you.”

“oh?”

“i’ve wanted to for a long time.”

“you have?”

katsuki hummed in response. you felt great gratification, knowing that he was enjoying this just as much as you.

you spent the next two hours at the restaurant, talking between ordering and taking bites of food. you even got katsuki to smile and laugh at your jokes and retorts at times.

when the sun started to come down, you both decided to start heading back to campus.

before you could even get your card out, katsuki had covered the bill for both of you. you thanked him as you walked out the door with him, beginning the walk to his car.

in one fell swoop, katsuki crossed to the opposite side of you to make sure he was on traffic’s side and threw his left arm around your shoulder, pulling you close into him.

unsurprisingly, katsuki smelled really nice. he smelled clean and sweet, with just a little hint of cologne.

his arm was warm on your skin. the touch made you borderline giddy, especially knowing how attracted the man doing it was.

you made it to the car after a minute of walking, and yet again, katsuki opened the door for you so you didn’t have to. he drove you back to campus, enjoying the conversation you sparked.

he parked in his parking spot and walked you into the dorms and up to your room.

instead of a quick goodbye like you expected, katsuki paused and said your name.

“i really enjoyed that,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“i did, too.”

“would you want to… do it again?”

“i’d love to. when?”

he paused in thought for a moment, then said “we could go get coffee or tea after the test to destress.”

“yeah, that sounds nice. i know i’ll need it.”

“me too. so i’ll see you then?”

“you will. goodnight, katsuki.”

“goodnight, beautiful.”

before you could fully process what he had said, katsuki had turned away and was halfway down the hallway.

you step into your dorm and collapse on the bed.

that night, you thought about katsuki until the sun came up again.

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 1)

Contains: No trigger warnings really just Rhaenyra being mean and tension between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~2.68k

Masterlist of this story

You looked out of the window in your chambers in the red keep, watching the approaching ships.

You knew that you should be down there. Like your sister Rhaenyra, waiting at the dock, waving to your uncle and the other people and welcoming them back kind – heartedly in the capital. But you couldn't.

It was too much and you knew if you did what you were supposed to do, you'd feel bad afterwards.

Your sister was three years older than you, 19, beautiful, feminine with full lips and warm eyes. And then there was you. A bit too tall and a bit too thin.

Of course you hadn't always felt that way. But when your cousin Aelon had said that you looked like a boy a few years ago, that had stuck with you. Ever since that day you always had these words in your head and you indeed felt like a boy.

You were 16 now, a grown woman but you didn't have a large chest, beautiful soft curves like a real woman does. Your chest was too small, your hips too slim and your arms and legs were too long. You felt like a fool, a boy… And you knew that a man didn't desire to lay with a boy.

Having a sister like Rhaenyra didn't exactly improve your situation. She was desired by all men in the seven kingdoms. Her grace, her charme and her wide smile had enchanted the grumpiest and rudest lords and knights.

And it had also enchanted your uncle Daemon, you were certain. Daemon Targaryen, brother of your father, Viserys Targaryen. Daemon was chaotic, wild, messy and dangerous. And all these traits had always made him so interesting to you and your sister.

Your father was the exact opposite. Rhaenyra and your mother had died when you were little and your father had wanted to protect you two ever since. Perhaps it was because you were the only two things left of your mother or it simply was because he didn't want to lose what he loved again. It didn't matter, he guarded and protected the two of you as if you were made of glass.

That was probably why your uncle had always been that interesting because he was different. Rhaenyra and you knew him as dangerous ever since you were born. He brought excitement, risk and thrill. When he came around you knew that it wouldn't be boring and you knew that everything would be different to what you expected.

Perhaps that was the reason why you and Rhaenyra had been fighting for your uncle's attention as long as you could remember. It was about who Daemon looked at longer, whose jokes he laughed about louder and who he brought the more special gifts.

You were competing and battling for his gaze and appreciation. Each of you wanted him to like you just a little bit more than the other.

When he made you a compliment you could feel Rhaenyra's angry gaze burning a hole in your back. But when he asked Rhaenyra for a dance on a name day of some distant cousin it was not rare for you to cry your eyes out in your chambers from anger and desperation.

You couldn't even exactly pin point when this competition had started and you didn't even exactly know what it was about. What was the prize, what were you fighting for? It simlpy was like a unspoken game between you, even though game seemed like a word too kind for this battle. You couldn't even exactly tell whether Daemon knew about the battle between you and your sister. At least he had never shown any sign that he did so you were not able to figure it out.

Over the last couple of years though, you had felt like you were losing this very game. When you were 12 you had seen Rhaenyra change. She had been growing and becoming a woman and you had feared you'd lose your uncle's attention.

You didn't entirely, but at the same time you felt as if he liked Rhaenyra better. Perhaps because she was more like Daemon than you were.

She was brave and witty, she made jokes while there were important men with important positions at the table. She was cocky and wasn't afraid to speak up to a lord who was twice her age. Rhaenyra was bold and it had happened more than once that she had gone out for a midnight stroll in the city, something that you wouldn't dare to do.

Maybe you were more like Viserys, you followed the rules and kept your head down. But you didn't do this to impress your father, no, you didn't want to be that way.

You wanted to be special, someone the people were talking about. You wanted your uncle to raise his eyebrows impressed when you told him about your adventures and wanted him to laugh about your quick-witted temper. You wanted him to flirt with you and wanted to be able to answer just as charmingly. But you knew that you couldn't.

Perhaps it was just the way you are, you weren't able to act that way. You looked down when important people spoke to you and you laughed at your sister's jokes instead of making some yourself.

So that's why you sometimes considered the competition with Rhaenyra finished. You couldn't even be mad at Daemon for prefering your sister. She was indeed more like him and she definitely had more to offer. Not only a more beautiful face but a smart and funny mind. Things simply were the way they were and you couldn't change them.

~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't watch everything out of your window but you could see the boats arriving and tiny people stepping from the boats to the ground. Daemon had been at the Stepstones the last weeks fighting a war against the Triarchy. You hadn't seen him in four months and actually were looking forward to have him back at the red keep.

Your ongoing battle with Rhaenyra wasn't everything. You always had a good and exciting time with Daemon and enjoyed spending your hours with him in the gardens or at dinner.

Then after a while all the tiny people had stepped inside the carriages and there was nothing to see anymore. They would drive to the red keep now and then there would probably be a little welcoming and then a big feast in the evening to celebrate the King’s brother's safe return.

You stepped away from the big window and sat down on a chair. You knew you couldn't hide in your chambers all day. You knew you would have to attend tonight's feast and it wasn't like you had to be forced to go there.

You couldn't even exactly say why you had refused to go to the bay to welcome the ships. Because once again, you didn't despise spending time with Daemon at all, it was the contrary. He made you giggle and blush and smile. You just felt like competing with Rhaenyra for his attention took all of your energy and it sometimes could be very exhausting. Now you took the book next to your bed and turned the pages bored. You couldn't really focus on the letters and just wanted time to pass. You didn't even know what you were waiting for, perhaps it was the feast tonight.

You were really looking forward to seeing your uncle but you didn't have the courage to leave your room to make a special entry down in the hall either. That exactly was a good example of how you were different to Rhaenyra because your sister most certainly wouldn't have a problem doing something like this.

You were still trying to focus on your book when there was a knock on your door. "Come in.", you said surprised and then the door opened. "Uncle?!" You couldn't supress a wide smile and stood up.

He had come. He had come to see her shortly after his arrival. He hadn't gone up to his room, hadn't strolled through the gardens with Rhaenyra (at least not for a very long time because some time had passed since his arrival and you obviously couldn't tell what he had been doing since he had arrived), no he had come up all the steps of the staircases to see you.

He wore black trousers and skirts with a red shirt underneath and of course, looked handsome as always.

You fastly walked towards him and wrapped your arms around him. He returned the hug and buried his face in your hair. "My beautiful niece. Wonderful to see you." You smiled softly, which he couldn't see and felt your heart beating faster at his words. You ended the hug and you could see Daemon watch you closely.

"I must admit I was a little disappointed to not see you at the dock.", he smirked. "I'm sorry, I… I wasn't feeling very well earlier.", you lied and Daemon immediately took a step back.

"Do not tell me that you're ill and I'll be walking out of here with the fever.", he hissed with small eyes but smirked. You laughed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"No I'm not ill. It was simply a headache." "I’m glad, little owl."

'Little owl'. That was his nickname for you and you didn't know what to think of it. You found it cute that he even bothered to have a nickname for you but at the same time you were wondering whether or not it once again confirmed your apprehension. Weren’t you nothing but a boring, quiet, night owl to him after all?

Daemon called Rhaenyra little storm sometimes but the nickname definitely wasn’t as established as yours and he only used it very rarely, but you still didn’t know if it was good or bad.

"But how are you, uncle? What are the stepstones like?" Daemon threw his head back. "Let me think, there is…. Bad wine, bad climate and no feather beds. In other words, I’m happy to be back.", he smiled and you couldn’t help but softly smile as well.

You were so happy to have him back after all. "I have something for you, by the way." You looked up to him to meet his gaze and he grinned crookedly.

"Turn around.", he spoke and you did as he had told you. Once your back was facing him he gently moved your hair out of the way. You helped him and exposed your neck and then you felt Daemon reaching around your neck to put a necklace on you. His hand brushed over your soft skin and you could feel yourself getting goosebumps and just hoped Daemon didn’t notice it. His hands were so close and you felt the blood pulsating in your veins.

He had closed the claps and you slowly turned around. Daemon smirked and watched the pendant on your skin.

"Beautiful.", he whispered and you could feel the blood rising in your cheeks again. Then you stepped in front of the mirror to watch yourself. The pendant glistened golden and it had a red flower on it. It was incredibly beautiful and you happily played with it.

"Thank you uncle. It’s lovely." Daemon stepped behind you and watched you as well through the mirror. You could feel his arm against your back and slightly shivered which made you angry. Why couldn’t you just play it cool for once in your life?

"You’ve become a woman, little owl.", he then whispered and didn’t take his eyes off the reflection of you. Your eyes searched for his‘ in the mirror and you didn’t know what to answer. You felt his chin brush against your hair. He was so close to you, you could literally feel his warmth.

"I’m 16.", you said and wanted to slap yourself. That had literally been the worst answer one could think of. Daemon chuckled in response.

"I feel like you have changed in these last four months." You smiled softly. "I don’t think I have." Your uncle smirked and you could feel his hand ligthly over your arm.

"Perhaps I should look at you more accurately then." You could feel your breath fasten and helplessly bit on your lip just to do anything. Daemon looked down to your naked shoulder as you could see in the mirror when he suddenly stepped away from you.

You exhaled loudly and all of the tension was gone. You aimlessly walked around in the room and tried to collect yourself.

"I’ll go now, I have to rest before the feast tonight." Your head turned to watch your uncle still smirking. "Yes, yes. I’ll see you later.", you spoke with a weak voice and didn’t look at him while he left your room.

'What was that?', you thought and tried to get more air to reach your lungs. Had you imagined this or had there been tension between the two of you? You knew your uncle and you knew that he liked to be a bit flirty but this right now…. He had been so close to you and what did he say? He should look at you more accurately, what did that even mean?

You supported your weak body by resting your hands on the desk. Slowly you could feel your heartbeat slow down and after a while dared to stand on your own without the support of the desk. Your hands were still slightly shaking but after another 5 minutes you almost felt like yourself again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later you were finally walking down the stairs and headed to the hall. You had spent the last two hours overthinking every second of your encounter with your uncle and had come to the conclusion that after four months of fighting a war, Daemon had simply wanted to play with her a little and she shouldn’t read anything into it. He probably had just felt like confusing her a bit and it honestly made a lot of sense, considering it was his nature to be a bit coquettish.

You now wore a red gown that exposed your shoulders and collar bones. It fell down to the ground and was tight at your waist. When you were about to step through the door to enter the hall in which the feast would take place you could feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Sister.", Rhaenyra hissed and you turned around. "Rhaenyra.", you greeted her.

"Where were you all day? Why didn’t you come with us to welcome uncle?" You raised your chin, promising yourself to be brave and self confident today. "I wasn’t feeling very well, sister. I prefered to spend the noon in my chambers."

Rhaenyra frowned. "I don’t believe you." "Then don’t, but I’m telling the truth." Your sister took a step back from you and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Is this about uncle?" You chuckled. "What about him?"

"You didn’t want to see him, did you?" You laughed loudly. "Why shouldn’t I?" "Because you don’t like to see him put his attention on any other person who’s not you." Rhaenyra smiled evily and you just wanted to punch that smirk out of her face.

"That’s not true, I told you I simply had a headache." "You NEVER have a headache." Slowly you got angry. "Well I did today and this is none of your business anyway."

Rhaenyra smirked even wider and took another step back. "I’m going to go fly with uncle tomorrow, by the way. On Caraxes. We’re going to Dragonstone and he said he’s gonna show me around the caves."

Your heart was beating faster and you could feel your anger and pain going to your head. With all your energy you tried to make the tears that you started to feel in your eyes vanish but you knew that Rhaenyra had noticed them. "I hope you have a good time.", you pressed and then turned around and entered the hall.