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lilywastaken · 2 years

Text

⇝ midnight .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART ONE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!) NSFW [ Oral (F receiving), Degradation, Praising, size difference/kink, dacryphilia, dumbification, slight bondage, frottage, unprotected P in V, overstimulation, various orgasms, creampie.], Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, kind of OOC Simon? He’s just soft when he’s not Ghost, Canon typical violence.

A/N: My first COD fic! It also happens to be the longest piece of writing I've ever done 😵! This is the first part of a series I've been planning on writing for a while, so I'll hopefully get the second part out soon! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the fic, it helps a lot!!! Thanks for all the support!! <3

WORD COUNT: 10.1k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

Going out wasn't one of Ghost's favourite things to do.

Even after getting back to his tiny flat in Manchester following a horribly long mission and shedding his mask, going back to the burly man his neighbours knew as Simon, some random guy who had moved in a few years ago and seldom stepped outside except for the random smoking session some of them would see him having on his balcony; he didn't enjoy going out.

So when he finally was able to relax onto his shitty leather sofa and catch up with some of the footy games he had missed while away, all he wanted more than anything was a good whiskey in his favourite (cleanest) glass.

And almost like a cartoon character staring at their empty wallet, Simon stared ahead at his liquor cabinet, jaw clenched as he spied at the remaining drops of alcohol that were left in the bottle, remembering the mental note he had made before leaving his flat the last time to get himself the alcohol he had chugged down during one of his depressive episodes.

So, in a fit of anger, he shoved on whatever clean clothes he could find in his duffle bag, skull balaclava pulled over his messy hair, and stomped down the stairs to the nearest Tesco…

…only to find it closed.

And fuck him if he was going to walk the extra hour to the nearest Morrison's just to get some shitty whiskey bottle to drown his sorrows in. At this point, he'd just go and sit in a corner of a pub, nursing what he would hope would be an acceptable liquor.

He was absolutely pissed by the time he made it into the homey bar, the universe having decided to make it it's personal mission to fuck him up today and making the worst storm possible start to rain upon Manchester.

Oh, and of course, the pub's tables were all full of teenagers (who definitely had fake IDs, no way they were all 18), and some old geezers who were shouting at the football game on TV (great, Manchester was loosing, another thing to worsen his night), leaving the only available seat one in the middle of the bar next to some woman chatting amicably to the waiter, who seemed a bit more interested in her cleavage than in what she had to say.

He slipped into the seat silently, his clear eyes death-staring into the bartender's, immediately scaring him shitless ("Yer about ta kill me with that look, Lt." Johnny had once joked about his murderous gaze, and to be fair, Simon was slightly hoping the scot would combust and die right there.), no doubt believing that he was with the woman and was about to punch his teeth in for staring longer than he should have.

As he scurried off into the back, you turned to him, taken aback at first as you made eye contact with the towering, wet, balaclava-clad man who was staring back at you, but you were brave enough to smile kindly at him, going back to running your finger over the rim of your drink, which Simon noticed was still and hardly drank out of, despite the lipstick smudges around the top. You'd been here a while, and by the way your leg was nervously jumping up and down as time passed by, he could only assume you'd been stood up.

Now, Simon wasn't dumb, far from it; and Simon was smart enough to recognize when someone was attractive, and he was pretty sure that the woman in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous despite the sad look that adorned your features. So, if he was correct, he couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could even start to think of standing up a woman like you, especially after inviting her to this shitty pub, where the food had definitely given him food poisoning before.

He hadn't realised how deep in thought he must have been while staring at your glass until a soft hand rested against his bicep, eyes instantly flashing back towards yours, instincts haywire from having been pulled out from his thoughts so suddenly.

"Sorry!" You immediately retracted your hand from his arm, smiling apologetically up at him before turning your gaze back to the golden liquid. "I asked if you were okay. I can't imagine walking around in a storm with just that on." You gestured towards his shirt, allowing Simon to look down and stare at the tight T-shirt he had chosen to wear, a few dirt stains decorating it in the worst way possible, having dressed for the occasion that was a 10pm trip to Tesco and not meeting up with a pretty woman at a pub.

"Wasn't planning on walking 'round." He grumbled out, his voice deeper than what you had expected, the thick accent and scratchy sound of it making shivers run down your spine and heat pool into your stomach, becoming horrified with yourself that you allowed such a minimal thing like a masked man's voice get you all hot and flustered like this.

"'Nd you? Doesn't seem like you're dressed for a night out at the Crown's." His eyes moved towards your dress, surprised with himself that he had actively been the one to continue the conversation; his thick hand reaching over to grab his drink from the bartender's hand (which he must have ordered during the haze he had been in before.) as he awaited your answer.

"Oh." He watched you smooth down your hair out from the corner of his eye, your hands shaky as they found comfort around the fancy glass of your whiskey. Or was it bourbon? Maybe rum? You seemed like the type of woman to appreciate a good glass of liquor. "Yeah, 'm waiting for someone."

He watched your eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall opposite you both, the little hand nearing the number 11.

"Could've taken you somewhere nicer." He commented, taking a jab at both the pub and your missing date, the small breathless chuckle that left your lips catching his attention.

"Yeah. Not like I expected a reservation at the Ritz, but somewhere that doesn't look like my grandad's favourite pub would be nice." You joked over the sound of some of the old men cheering in the background over some team scoring a goal, and while Simon would've normally turned around to make sure it had been Manchester, he was too focused on the mesmerising way your eyes looked in the dim light, your eyelashes fluttering innocently as you continued what had started as small talk, that evolved into friendly conversation and him buying you another drink, and that ended with him waiting for you outside the bathrooms, holding onto your tiny umbrella.

Simon wasn't one to frequent in hook-ups, but how enticing you had been when talking to him, the way your body looked in that dress and how you'd brushed your soft hand against his bicep (this time with another intent other than to snap him out of his stupor), had left him wanting, nay, craving more from you.

So when you looked out the window behind him before gesturing to the small umbrella hanging from your bag and asked if he wanted to take you home, he would have been demented to deny you.

His screen's brightness lit up his face as he scrolled over the scarce messages he had received across the almost 10 years he had had this crappy phone, about to delete Soap's number before you came out, a smile on your face and makeup freshly applied.

"Some girls helped me with my makeup in there." You commented happily, fingertips brushing over the blush that had been applied to the apples of your cheeks, which made you somehow look even more enticing than before. "I didn't have time to look in the mirror, but I hope it looks okay."

"Looks nice on you." He let out after processing your new look, his chest tightening as your smile somehow widened and your eyes brightened, having learned across the few hours you had spent together that Simon wasn't really one to show his emotions towards anyone, so a short compliment like that was a big step.

"You think?" You didn't wait for an answer, your hand finding his and starting to lead him out of the shadowy corner he had taken refuge in while your time in the bathroom, letting him push open the exit door so he could open up the umbrella, not caring about the raindrops falling onto him and darkening his clothes, the rain getting caught onto his eyelashes like morning dew on a spiders web, the beautiful orbs drawing you in like a butterfly happily flying into a spider's nest.

The umbrella was open and poised on top of you before you could even step out of the pub, Simon doing his best so you wouldn't be touched by the rain, aware of how uncomfortable some people got when it came to water running down your back or touching your face (especially when you looked so so pretty with your make-up.). Along with his massive frame walking next to you, you were pretty sure there was no way a single drop of water would touch your skin the whole way back home.

Which ended up being almost silent, you leading the way and commenting on random stores or things you passed, brightening up every time you got a chuckle out of him and melting whenever his hand would wrap around your waist as you passed some creepy man or a suspicious-looking group of teens, pulling you into his side so no one would even think of messing with you.

You were highly aware of how dangerous it was in hindsight to take some random man home (whose face you hadn't even seen yet!), but Simon made you feel safe, special, in some weird way… like as long as you were in his vicinity, nothing could happen to you, nothing could harm you. And you wanted to cling onto that feeling, onto the feeling of protection and warmth that Simon extruded.

So you didn't think twice about it, even as you slipped the key into the front door to your apartment complex and stood next to him the whole elevator ride up to your floor, his hand curled around yours with his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, the soft action enough to make heat pool into your tummy and your panties, getting worked up over casual affection from the breathtaking man.

"Y'sure about this, lovie?" His raspy voice made you fumble with your keys as he came up behind you, watching you struggle to unlock your flat as his breath hit your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will. Last chance."

Your breathing grew shaky as his own warmed your cheek, the way he worded it making it seem like the act you were both about to perform was something akin to letting a beast free, and even if it was, as long as Simon was the one to do it, you would have let him do anything.

"Yes." You managed to get out as your door finally opened, not even getting the time to take a step in before his hands were all over you, pushing you into the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him with his foot, his balaclava somehow being pulled up to his nose, high enough so you could gaze upon his soft pink lips and the blond stubble that adorned his chin and slightly crooked nose, aware that you would have spent hours tracing his features with your eyes, engraving them to memory, but he took away any thoughts away from you as he slotted his lips with yours.

You learned immediately that Simon's kisses were desperate, sloppy, needy. The way his hands gripped at your hips and his teeth nibbled onto your bottom lip, tongue running over yours as he trailed his palms down your thighs onto your feet, wrenching off your heels and ripping apart your tights, ignoring the angered whine that left your lips.

"Easier access, lovie." He murmured against your lips, finally pulling back with a sleazy grin on his lips, a string of spit connecting you both before breaking, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath while he took in your living room, staring at the doors. "Bedroom?"

"Th- That one-" You hazardly pointed towards one of the doors behind you, squealing out loud as he grabbed you effortlessly and started to carry you towards your room, thighs pressed to his sides and ankles crossed behind his back, making sure to cling onto him so he wouldn't randomly drop you (Although by the way his muscles barely tensed when he had picked you up, and how easily he seemed to navigate around while carrying you made you think that there was no way he'd let you fall.)

Your back finally hit your familiar soft mattress, hands clenching onto your silk sheets as he watched you like a hawk, hands resting on the space of your thighs near your now-dripping cunt, thumbs rubbing into the soft pudge.

"Fuck… Just look t'you." He rumbled out, your cheeks growing warm as he continued to stare without moving, enjoying the way you started to squirm beneath his touch. "Calm, lovie, jus' taking my time wiv' you."

You mewled out at the deep tone his voice took, thighs threatening to close as one of his hands made his way towards your clothed cunt, which had been made accessible thanks to your now-ripped tights that had been left behind in the living room.

Simon forced your thighs back open with a grunt, glassy eyes darkening as he watched your own hands come up to cover your face out of embarrassment, letting himself soak in it for a moment before finally starting to act.

"Lean up f'me." You obeyed immediately, trembling under his touch as he slowly pulled your dress off, letting it pool onto the floor along with his shirt, which he had quickly gotten rid of as soon as you were in your lingerie. His eyes roamed the lace for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, looking up at you to find you ogling at his scarred chest, almost drooling at the sight of his well built pecs and stomach. "Tryin' to get lucky tonight?" He spoke, fingers snapping your bra strap, thinking back to why you were originally at that pub in the first place.

"Shut up." You grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up the bed so you could continue kissing him, having been left craving more ever since that breathtaking one in the foyer.

He didn't complain, quickly indulging you as he slotted his lips with yours once again, his kiss as sloppy as needy as before, openly moaning against them as your hands run under his balaclava to pull at the short strands of his coarse hair, his own hands wrapping your thighs around his waist so your clothed pussy could grind against the hard material of his trousers over his hardened cock, rejoicing in the way your moans and whines sounded as he drank them up.

"S'needy." He chastised softly as he pulled away, moving you both towards the top of the bed so you could rest your head on your pillows, catching your breath while he started slipping off his belt and trousers (the belt being placed on the bed, just in case), and letting you gaze upon the tent in his boxers, shivering at the monstrous sight of his cock, trying to imagine how in the living fuck would he fit inside you if he couldn't even fit properly in his boxers, pulling out a moan from your lipstick smudged lips at the simple thought of being fucked by such a tool.

"Like it?" He chuckled, slowly starting to lean down with his hands on your thighs, pulling one of them over his shoulder so he was face to face with your covered cunt, his breath warm as it hit your clit, making you whine. "Gunna let me have a taste?"

"Y-Yes, god, yes, Simon, please-" You breathed out all at once, desperate for his touch after the slow teasing, watching what was visible of his face scrunch up in mock laughter as he revelled in your whines.

"As you wish, lovie."

He didn't even bother pushing your panties aside before taking a lick of your cunt from bottom to top, pressing soft kisses to your clit to hear your desperate whines and feel your thighs shake beneath his touch, continuing to slowly make out with your clothed pussy, purposefully driving you insane with his limited touches.

"Off, off, pl-please, Si, please -" You whined, pushing his head away in an attempt to start to pull your panties down, crying out in frustration as he didn't budge, a growl leaving his lips and sending vibrations up your cunt.

"Don't touch. I'm taking my fucking time, pretty. Or would you rather me stick my cock into you without any prep?" You moaned out loudly at the thought, back threatening to arch as he slowly grasped at your panties, a humourless chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Yeah, I bet your slutty pussy'd love that, wouldn't it, lovie?" He purred before finally sliding down your pants, taking a moment to stare at your cunt and let you squirm before slowly spreading your thighs again, immediately shoving his face into his prize and repeating his movements from before, but faster and rougher, letting you feel every inch of his tongue as it ran over your lips and slowly inched inside of your hole, your moans and silent screams only edging him further on until he took your engorged clit into his mouth and started sucking, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing your arching back down onto the mattress.

He was surprised, to say the least. Yes, he'd realised you were sensitive as soon as he had kissed you for the first time, but he hadn't expected you to almost burst into tears from being eaten out (He wasn't even /trying/ to make you cry, he wondered what would happen if he did.), so he wondered if all the men you'd been with before had gone down on you, but by the way you were reacting to such simple touches, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"So fuckin' sweet, baby." He murmured into your pussy as he let go of your swollen clit, giving your hole some attention as the hand that was on your tummy ran down to circle your clit, overstimulating you in the best way possible. "Taste like fuckin' heaven."

"Si- Simon-" you whined his name out so so sweetly, music to the normally cold lieutenant's ears. "Gonn- Fuuuck! 'Na cum! Please, please, Si, need to-"

"S'okay, let go for me, lovie." He basically purred into you as he continued licking contently at your gushing hole, fingers tactically rubbing on your clit, before changing spots, taking your clit back into his mouth and letting his fingers slip in to you, preening at the sweet gasp that left your lips at the sudden intrusion, his coarse fingers moving in and out and immediately finding that one spot that made your back arch and toes curl, and just as he was taught in the military, he took advantage of the weak spot (in this case, your sweet spot.) and didn't stop brushing his fingers against it, the increasing sound of his name alerting him of your upcoming orgasm.

And once the coil within your stomach snapped and Simon finally let your back arch of the bed, your release gushing out of you and coating his hand and wrist, you let out the loudest moan of his name, the sound immediately going to his painfully hard cock, but he didn't stop, tongue not ceasing its assault on your clit and fingers continuing to rub against your g-spot until you finally came down from your high, brain mushy and eyes glassy as you stared up at the cream ceiling.

"Such a good girl." He purred out as he finally stopped, retracting his wet fingers and taking them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and cleaning off all of the slick you had left from your orgasm, savouring it like he would with a lollipop. "Fuckin' taste amazing."

You whined in response, the embarrassment from having cummed so fast and having to watch him lick up all your release finally catching up to you, shaky hands moving to cover your sweaty face.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing them before they could cover your pretty features and holding them together in one hand.

"No, baby. Don't want you fuckin' hiding f'me." He snapped, slowly pulling them upwards so that they were pinned against the headboard, his other hand moving to gather the belt he had discarded not so long ago, quickly taking advantage of your cum-lax state to wrap it around your wrists, making sure it was tight enough to constrict you, but not tight enough to hurt, and letting you lie there while he started on getting rid of his boxers. "Wanna see that pretty face while you come undone on my cock. Isn't that what y'want too?"

You tried moving your head to nod, but it felt so so heavy that even the slightest movement felt like a chore, feeling grateful that Simon was a man able to move you around and dominate you without even breaking sweat, that all you needed to do was lie back and enjoy everything he gave you.

"Fuckin' hell. Not even fucked ya yet and you're 'lready gone?" He sneered, coming to hover over you so he could press wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, purposefully avoiding your lips. "Pretty girl gets her pussy played wiv and turns into a right proper slut, don' she?" He purred against your neck, his words making you shiver and squirm as your body instinctively tried to move away from the stimulus, only for him to pull you back towards him with grubby hands, a loud gasp leaving your lips as he pressed your crotches together, having expected the soft cotton of his boxers and not the hard, hot feeling of his cock flush against your dripping pussy.

"Oh- Oh my god, Simon, th-"

"Mm." He cut you off with a soft purr and a nip to your jugular, no doubt making sure that you'd wake up in purple marks the next morning as he did the same all over your neck. "'S me. All me, lovie. F'you."

You moaned at the implication, slowly starting to grind yourself against him as he made it his personal mission to cover your upper body in kisses, stopping at your clavicle and staring down at your bra, that was still to be taken off.

"Fuck, forgot all 'bout these." His hand came up to squeeze one of them softly, a small sound of pleasure leaving your lips at the added stimulation as you continued to rub your cunt against his hardened cock. "Pretty little things."

He started grinding his own hips against yours, watching with amazement at how quickly you reacted to his touch, your back arching enough for him to slip his hands behind and unclasping your bra suspiciously easy, pulling it off and throwing it behind him and landing god knows where, and leaving you finally completely bare beneath him.

"Look t'you." His warm hands immediately cupped your tits, thumb and pointer rubbing your nipples between them, pinching and pulling until they were hard, an amazed chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to your moans increase in sound, his grinding against you not ceasing either.

"Oh fuck- fuck fuck!" It was embarrassing, how quickly he had you whining and mewling beneath him, when you had found yourself struggling before to even feel something with men before him doing the same. It was just something about him, something about the way he sounded and touched, the precise movements against you, almost like he had been trained for your pleasure, to get you over the edge as many times as he could muster before even getting his dick wet.

Because the instant you felt his warm breath hit one of your perky breasts, you knew you were fucked, headed towards your second orgasm of the night. His warm mouth enveloped your hard nipple, pulling and tugging with his teeth and soothing the slight pain he left with his talented tongue, his grinding becoming quicker and rougher as he felt your thighs tremble around his waist, your eyes watering as you neared the release you oh so craved, gasping out loud as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your flushed skin.

"You gunna cry, baby? S'okay, let it out. Let it out f'me." He growled as he let go of your now throbbing nipple, moving to give your other neglected breast the same attention, hand leaving your face to run down to your core and slowly run over your clit, a huge contrast to the rough movements of his cock against you and his warm mouth on your nipple, all the different stimulations and feelings enough to push you over the edge and let the tears that had been collecting in your waterline finally fall, gasping moans and screams leaving your lips as you soaked his cock, body trembling beneath his ministrations as he chuckled against your nipple, enjoying the way you were slowly falling apart and he hadn't even pushed into you yet.

He didn't stop for a few moments, waiting until the moment where you would inevitably start whining and pushing him off with weak arms to cease, leaning back up with a shit eating grin as he waited for you to come down from your high.

"Oi, look at me." He taps one of his fingers on your face, moving your gaze towards his, a small, patronising pout tugging at his lips as he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. "Poor thing. You all fucked out yet? D'you think y'could still take my cock? Or are you too dumb f'that right now?"

"Y-yes, yes, please, please, need it so bad, Si! So so bad!" You stuttered out between laboured breaths, hands struggling against their binding, itching to be let free and feel his cock in your hands, which you could see between you, almost as girthy as a coke can and with a few prominent veins leading up to his flushed red tip, that was leaking pre spend you would gladly pay money to clean up with your tongue. "O-oh fuck, Simon, please -"

"Sh, shh. Calm down, y'little crybaby." He chastised, leaning down to softly press kisses over the tears that had gathered on your flushed cheeks, chuckling at how desperate you looked under him. "I'll give you what you want. Gon' fuck you so well, yeah? You'll feel me f'weeks, lovie."

"Fuck, yes, please! Want your cock so badly, please!" You cried, legs immediately spreading for him as soon as his calloused hands landed on the pudge of your thighs, slightly digging his fingers into them as he took in the beautiful sight of your soaking wet pussy, having half the mind to shove his cock in you without a second thought. But no.

"Calm." He snapped, one of his hands dropping your thighs and slapping your face softly to get your attention. "Protection, baby. You got a condom?"

He frowned as you shook your head, gasping for breath as you pointed over to your nightstand, where he could faintly see the glint of a packet of tablets in the dark. "Pill. 'M on the pill, Si. Clean. I'm clean."

He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips at the thought of being able to cum inside, and how eager you were acting to get him to finally stick his cock inside, whines and whimpers pulling him from his thoughts as he stared down at you.

"You going to let me cum inside then, lovie?" He teased, pulling your other thigh back up so the underside of both of them were resting flush against his bare chest, twitching cock resting on your overstimulated core. "Don' think I'm gonna be able to pull out."

"Don't want you to, fuck! Please, Simon, please!! Inside, want you to cum inside!"

A shiver racked through his body at your words, carefully letting one of your legs go and making sure it would stay there, wrapping around it to grab his cock, slowly sliding the head around your puffy lips to collect the slick, wanting the intrusion to be as painless as possible.

"Fuck… Alright, baby, alright. Breathe f'me." He whispered, letting the head of his cock press against your hole, telling himself to go slow and calm down, but by the way you were pulsing and clenching around the head, almost like you were pulling him in, made it hard to stay sane. "God, slutty lil' cunt's just swallowing me in, huh? Want this cock that bad?"

Your hands shook against their restraint as he started to push himself into your sopping hole, wanting nothing more than to grab onto something for stability, but you didn't want to risk him getting annoyed at you for trying to.

"S'okay, almost there." He mumbled, lying straight through his teeth because with one look down to where he was connected to it would prove that he wasn't even halfway in, and it was already proving difficult for your hole to accommodate to his massive size.

"S'big, Si, you're so biiig." You whined, spreading your legs slightly and pushing your body onto him to help, shivering as you could feel him start throbbing inside of you, no doubt needing his own climax after having spent so much time focusing on you.

You could feel your eyes start to flutter close, mouth dropping open as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls flush against your ass and cock throbbing inside of you, taking a breather and letting you adjust to his size before he would start on his ruthless pace.

"Fuck, lovie, you droolin'?" He panted, a hand coming up to rest against your face and pull you out of your sex-drunk haze (Despite only getting his cock inside you now.), your eyes drowning in his crystal ones, hypnotised by his gaze as he used his thumb to rub away some of the drool that had dribbled down your chin. "Pretty girl finally gets some cock and turns into a drooling slut, huh?"

You let out a noise of complaint as your hands continued to struggle, the few coarse hairs that were peeking out from under his mask enough to make you want to bury your fingers in them, pull at his strands and dig your nails into his scalp as he rocked your world.

He seemed to to understand what you wanted, a chuckle leaving his swollen lips as he leaned over you, legs folding along with him and allowing him to reach a deeper point in your cunt you didn't know that existed, a loud moan escaping you as his calloused hands start undoing the belt, finally letting your wrists free and throwing the piece of leather away, his hands going back to holding onto one of your thighs and another gripping your waist.

"All yours, baby. All fuckin' yours."

He gave you a moment to react as he bottomed out, leaving you empty for a split moment before he slammed back in, cock head almost instantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, your hands immediately finding refuge on his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin as he repeated his ruthless thrusts, your body shaking beneath his as he pushed down onto your body, forcing you both into a mating press, your cunt tightening around his cock at the sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, tummy fluttering at the thought that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, so good, Simon! So fucking good!" Your hands trailed up to the nape of his neck and pulled at the few short hairs there, urging a growl out of him and causing him to slightly speed up, the head of his cock at this point abusing your g-spot, urging you to near your third orgasm. "Wan- Wanna cum, fuck, gonna cum, Simon!"

"Already, baby?" He spoke through bated breath, his stamina allowing him to keep a good and consistent pace, enough to please both of you and almost bring you to tears again. "That's okay, cum for me, lovie. Cum on my fucking cock, show me how much of a fucking whore you are f'me."

Your back arched, pressing your breasts to his sweaty chest, the extra stimulation from your nipples rubbing against his coarse skin finally pushing you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock and making it near impossible for him to continue thrusting, but as the good soldier Simon was, he persisted, rutting into you with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, fucking you through your orgasm until your slick covered his balls and upper thighs.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." He rasped, hand moving from your waist up to your neck, giving an experimental squeeze and moaning as you clenched around him, a breathless chuckle leaving him. "Fuck, you're still clenchin' around me so nicely, love. Feel so fuckin' good, perfect lil' pussy all f'me..."

Simon was saying nonsense at this point, becoming near pussy drunk as his cock hammered into your puffy cunt, nearing his own peak after all the foreplay.

"Si- Simon-!" You keened, hands running under his mask to grasp at his hair properly, pulling at it to coax another guttural moan from him and leading him back down to engage in a messy kiss, teeth clanking together and spit being shared, feeling the desperation he was in as he continued to batter your pussy searching for his own orgasm. "Cum, please, please, cum inside!"

Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head at your begging, eyelashes fluttering as his pace stuttered inside of you, cockhead pressing against the entrance to your cervix and finally going over the edge, his spend gushing into you and almost immediately filling you, his cock acting like a plug inside you.

"O-oh, fuuck…" He moaned out, voice going slightly high pitched as he relished in the euphoria of finishing inside of you, his nails leaving ten moon shaped indents on your hips, the pain nothing compared to the feeling of him finally fucking his spend into you, you'd have to worry about the inevitable bruises and marks in the morning before work. "Fuck, you're… fuck."

Simon lowered himself down, resting his sweaty balaclava-clad face on your shoulder as you both caught your breaths, his cock twitching inside of you as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

Your eyes were blown out, staring up at the ceiling as you were hit with a sudden wave of realisation, your brain finally catching up with your body and taking in everything that had just happened, especially the fact that you had allowed some masked man you'd met at a pub on a tinder date to ravage you like a starved animal.

"Oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you shivered beneath the mountain of a man, who's sweaty body was pressed flush to yours, his cock softening inside of you as you both started to sober up. "O-Oh my god, Simon."

He let out a moan against your skin, languidly thrusting one final time into you before slowly pulling out, peeling himself off of you and letting the cold air envelop your now-shivering body, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your puffy cunt pulling out another broken whine from your lips.

"Look at that…" You tried moving away as Simon ran a finger down your spent hole, gathering his cum best he could before slowly shoving it back into you, clicking his tongue at your reaction before leaning down and pressing a final kiss to your clit, the loud cry that left you making him smile almost predatorily. "So, so pretty, baby."

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you felt the bed shift beneath Simon's moving weight, allowing you time to set your head on straight and think about the next words that were going to come out of your mouth (That weren't strangled moans of the blond's name and jumbled cries about how good he felt.) while he moved around, no doubt getting his discarded clothes so he could slip away into the night.

"...leavin'?" You finally mustered out, letting your head fall to a side so you could watch him pick up his boxers and slip them on, his balaclava fixed into place like it had been when you met him, leaving you to stare into his mysterious blue eyes, the only gateway into the man who had just finished ravishing you.

"..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes trailing over your shivering frame as he fought internally over your words.

Ghost knew that it would be dangerous to stay, to indulge in your touch and show himself to you in one of his most vulnerable states. He didn't know you outside of the few hours he had spent with you, and even with that, it wasn't enough for Ghost to let his guard down around you.

Simon wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into bed and let you curl into his side, let his warm hands run up and down your warm skin like he had done while pleasuring you, listen to your snores and even breathing. And despite probably not being able to fall asleep himself, Simon knew that it would be one of the few tranquil nights of his life.

So despite Ghost's alarming protests ringing in his head, Simon slowly made his way into the empty spot of your bed next to you, the covers soft and cool against his heated skin, soothing the raging fire that seemed to boil inside of him at the mere sight of you, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you towards his side of the bed.

As soon as your bare body made contact with his, you melted like ice cream on a hot day, curling into his side and allowing him to wrap his tattooed arm around you, calloused hands running up and down your sides, taking his sweet time memorising every curve and dip of your body as you rested your head onto his chest, ear pressed right above his rapidly beating heart.

Not one word was exchanged between you both the whole time you lied together, his fingers tracing every little nook and cranny of your skin he could find, stopping every once in a while to rub on a tense muscle or over a scar, the soft ministrations swiftly lulling you to sleep.

The hand that you had splayed on his chest was mimicking his movements, fingers running over the blond hair that adorned his chest, playing with the small cross that dangled from the small chain necklace around his neck. Every time his hand would come up to rub at your shoulders, you caught a peak at the many tattoos that sleeved his arm, and as much as you wanted to turn around and commit all of them to memory, every time you tried to move, he'd press you closer, as if he knew that if he did allow you to, you'd only put off sleeping for longer.

As your eyelids started drooping, you felt his other hand come up to rest over your smaller one, toughened fingers intertwining with your own softer ones, a tired smile forming at your lips before finally clocking out, his heartbeat a firm rhythm that pulled you further and further into the soft grasp of Hypnos.

As expected, Simon didn't sleep a wink.

He had tried to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth you radiated, trying his best to let your soft snores and murmurs lull him to sleep, but it was impossible.

Despite not having slept for more than two days, he was unable to fall asleep, on edge after the catastrophe that was his last mission.

That was one of the reasons he had decided to step out of his comfort zone and allow himself a night of indulgence with you, a night of letting himself go and take out all his anger on you, but he had been impuissant to hurt you or even come close to actually wound you, instead taking it as slow as he knew how to and muttering soft praises and sweet nicknames into your ear along with the degradation that he'd mixed in.

And even after tiring himself out, he still couldn't let himself fully relax.

But as he turned his head to look down at your sleeping face, he thought that maybe this wasn't so bad. He felt… at ease, for the first time in a while. No strident alarms to wake him up at the crack of dawn, no ringing in his ears as a grenade went off near him, no desperately patching up a wound and drenching his hands in blood, no screams and pleas of mercy reverberating around his head as he disposed of the enemy.

None of that. It was just you. With your body curled into his side and your soft skin beneath a killer's hands.

Which is why he wished he could stay there forever. Lock the door and have you in his arms for the rest of his life, without the paranoia and the horrors that followed him everywhere he went, only focus on you and how mushy you made him feel with only a few hours of knowing him.

Which is why he wished he could have just fallen asleep and ignored the vibrations that came from beneath his discarded clothes, that he didn't leave your side and pick up the phone, that he hadn't followed orders like he always did and hadn't left you alone.

He carefully tucked you in, making his side of the bed before hesitantly brushing his scarred knuckles against your flushed cheeks, an alternative to the kiss he oh-so wanted to press down onto you until you woke up, until you asked him to stay, until he caved in and left the 141 to fend for themselves.

But he didn't.

He closed the door to your bedroom, slipped his phone and keys back into his pockets and headed towards the front door, ready to leave you behind and go back to being Ghost.

But as his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes caught onto a stack of fluorescent yellow sticky notes on the kitchen counter, and in a stroke of not so genius, he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled down his number onto the piece of paper, signing it with a simple "S .", hoping that you'd deduce it was from him, and not from some random person whose name started with the letter S that had broken into your apartment just to give you their number.

He stuck it a bit too aggressively to the almost bare fridge, making sure it was in a visible spot that you wouldn't be able to miss before finally stepping out of your flat, adjusting his mask in the elevator's mirror and going back to the cold hearted killer his fellow soldiers knew as Ghost.

He'd expected it to be a short mission.

One that they'd be able to finish within two weeks at best so he could go back to his cramped flat in Manchester and hopefully get back to you.

He'd spent almost every day of the first week of his departure wondering if you'd found the note, if when he'd retrieve his phone back from his locker back at base, he'd find a few messages from an unknown number he hoped was yours, asking him how he was, asking him to meet up again, wondering if he was okay…

That's what mostly kept him going for the first few days.

Until it all went haywire.

The mission escalated quickly into a mess of soldiers and betrayals, flying from place to place and taking more lives with his bare hands than he had ever before.

Blood soaked his hands in a way it never had, the toll of deaths on his name increasing with every passing day, week, month, year.

When the mission that had started off as something simple, something Ghost couldn't even remember, ended after a year, the 141 couldn't be more relieved. And exhausted.

They'd fought for many months straight, barely finding places to get a wink of sleep, and sometimes even running out of food while they camped out in one of the dingy safe houses of whatever city they were currently stranded in.

But it was finally over. Their target had been disposed of and any enemy that remained had either been eliminated or had scurried off.

As the chopper brought them back to base, none of them said a word, even Johnny refrained from making any jokes, knowing that it would only piss off both of his superiors and maybe get a tired chuckle out of Gaz.

Price uttered a "Good job." to all of them before patting them on the shoulder and going to his office, no doubt ready to go back home and have the sleep of his life.

The two sergeants withheld from talking too much to their lieutenant, murmuring a goodbye to him before going their own way, Ghost not even bothering to answer, too mentally and physically exhausted to even open his mouth to speak.

The first thing he did once he reached his locker was throw the goddamn mask off, letting the plastic skull clatter against the tiles as he rummaged through his belongings, wanting nothing more than to get into some clean clothes and go back home, where he would drink away the horrors that would no doubt follow him and probably pass out watching reruns of football games he had missed.

The clothes he had worn the day before the mission were tighter, accentuating the change in his physique after putting his muscles to work for a whole year, the seams of his trousers digging uncomfortably into his legs, his pockets full of random junk he had left in there.

He fished for whatever was currently pressing against his backside, pulling out his small phone from the pocket, frowning down at the gadget, which was no doubt out of battery after being left for so long.

Simon was pleasantly surprised when the screen brightened, showing his black lock screen and the time, the battery hanging onto dear life with a 1%. He moved to grab his charger, his eyes still trained on the incoming notifications that would soon flood his home screen, not really expecting much aside from the emails entailing rubbish deals or the occasional spam from a porn site he'd signed up to as a teen and hadn't been able to delete.

Instead, he was bombarded with over a thousand notifications at once, all from the same unknown number, the messages going too quickly for his tired eyes, focusing on the random words he was able to take from the rapidly passing texts.

‍

Answer.

Ignoring.

Asshole.

Appointment.

Doctor.

Pub.

Baby.

Pregnancy.

‍‍

His mind blocked itself off as he processed the last word, trying to make sense of all the confusing messages that had been sent to his phone.

Had it been by accident? Was he the recipient of some prank? Had he unknowingly given out his number to someo-

You.

Simon's throat went dry as the realisation dawned on him. Without sparing another second, he unlocked his phone, clicking onto the notifications and scrolling down as fast he could while still intaking information, afraid that his phone would die out at any point in time and render him utterly confused and terrified.

His body went on autopilot the more he read, brain fuzzy as if he had just drank a whole bottle of hard-hitting liquor, his eyes fixed on the bright screen of his phone in terror.

He was in shock. His mind wasn't in the right state to process any of this, he wasn't able to properly begin to fathom the meaning behind your words, as simple as they were.

‍

— I'm pregnant.

— I'm fucking pregnant, Simon.

— I don't know how it happened, the chances of the pill failing are so fucking low, and of course it happened to us.

‍

— Please pick up.

— I know you're getting the messages.

‍

— The doctor told me it's too dangerous to perform the abortion.

— I have to keep it or risk my life.

‍

— I need you to answer, Simon. Please, I just need to know that you're there.

— I'm scared.

‍

— You're such an asshole, you know that, right?! Fucking gave me your number only to disappear? Left me pregnant with your bloody kid!? And you can't even bother to pick up the goddamn phone.

‍

— Fuck you.

‍

— …

— It's a boy. Thought you'd want to know.

‍

— My due date is in a month. Please… call me, if you're even reading these. I don't want to be alone.

‍

The phone flashed the low power message in hopes that Simon would take mercy on it and finally plug it in, but Simon paid it no mind, clear eyes staring down at the picture you'd attached during one of the first months of your pregnancy.

The blurry picture of an ecography staring back at him disproved any doubts that might have formed in his mind, your full name displayed at the bottom along with the date it was taken, solidifying the fact even more.

It was real. This was real. You'd been carrying his son for 9 months, sending him frantic and terrified messages all throughout the three trimesters in hopes that he'd answer, all the while he had forgotten all about you in the midst of his mission, while you probably didn't spend a single day of that year not thinking about him.

His phone went dark once it finally had enough, leaving him standing there with a dry throat and shaky hands.

It was rare for Ghost to feel fear, but not for Simon. His throat would contract with every breath, his nose would sting as tears threatened to form on his waterline, his hands would get shaky until he balled them up and threw a punch into whatever item was closest.

This time wasn't any different. He punched his locker door, denting the metal effortlessly as he tried to wash away the fear and guilt creeping up to him with the pain that bloomed at his knuckles, that ran up his arms like electric shocks until they went numb.

He was an asshole.

Simon knew that it wasn't his fault that the mission had been extended for way too long, but he kept thinking back to the moment he'd placed his number on your fridge, wondering what would have happened if he'd done the smart thing and added that he'd be unavailable for a while, but that he'd get back to you. Maybe you would have been less scared while going through the pregnancy, comforted by the thought that he hadn't been ignoring you, but he knew that even then, you would have gone through it alone and terrified.

"I'm an asshole."

He rested his head against the dented locker, the cool metal soothing the headache that had quickly formed after all the conflicting feelings that had rushed through him in the matter of a minute.

All he had wanted was to go back home and rest, but fuck him if he was going to be able to even close his eyes after learning he was a father.

He packed everything up as quickly as he could, not bothering to say goodbye or join the other three for a drink at a pub, heading to his car so he could get the fuck out of London and back to Manchester, where he prayed you still lived, in that tiny flat near that dingy pub where he had first laid eyes on you in.

As his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a terrifying thought struck him.

Who's to say you had even kept the baby?

Who's to say you couldn't bear to look at the baby, that you'd given him away to a way more functional family?

The thought inflicted fear in him, a type of fear he didn't know if he should be feeling or not, confused with all the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of him.

"God, fuck!" He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, the roar he had let out no doubt scaring any civilian that had been walking near his car at the time, but he couldn't care less.

All that was important now was getting back to you, to what he hoped was still the mother of his son.

Happy giggles and gurgles filled the living room, your tiny baby outstretching his arms out as you cycled his legs slowly, making silly faces down at him to keep him distracted.

Your doctor had recommended small exercises like these, some that would help develop his future motor skills, but you'd found that Tommy was a curious baby, one that couldn't stay still for longer than five minutes before he was whining and huffing in a futile attempt to get your attention and hopefully release him from his tiny prison; and so, in order to keep him focused, you resorted to having leisured conversations with him, your small son hanging onto your every word with wide blue eyes and a gaping mouth, as if he could understand your frustrations with the man who had blocked your car off and the girl from the bakery that had gotten your order wrong, or making silly faces at him to hear him giggle with glee.

You placed his small feet down and went back to your resting face, his eyes instantly going from your face to the closest toy, small chubby arm reaching out to grab it, your fingers running over his tummy and getting out a few giggles out of him before he finally grasped the toy, pressing it into his side.

As he distracted himself, you let yourself sit down properly, back hitting the edge of the sofa as you watched your son roll around on the blanket you'd laid down, letting yourself look up at the TV for a moment to have a small break, the news reporter standing in front of Big Ben ranting about some resolved political dispute or something.

Your eyes trailed back down to your son, who was wriggling around with a new toy in his grasp, cooing and drooling as he stared up at the ceiling, blue eyes fixed on one of the many cracks in the ceiling.

You winced at the not so friendly reminder of the state your flat was in. Going through a pregnancy on your own without any help and barely any money to take care of yourself left your home in a condition you were not proud of. You'd tried your best to clean and make the nursery as cosy as possible, but at the end of your third trimester you could barely lean down to pick up the hoover. Once you had been allowed back home, you'd cleaned up, but you couldn't really do much to fix the poor way your building had been constructed.

A sigh left your lips, leaning down to rest your head against your knees with closed eyes, giving yourself a few moments of sacred rest, something you seldom got anymore those days.

Sometimes, you thought as you wrapped your arms around your legs, you wished you weren't alone. As much hate you had harboured for your son's father across the year, you couldn't help the longing that still filled you every time you thought about him, wondering if you'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold his son in his arms.

Frustrated tears filled the corners of your eyes, wiping them away with your sleeves before turning your attention back to your son, who was now squirming in his spot making grabby hands at you.

"I've got you, duck, don't worry." You cooed, picking him up and pressing a few kisses to his chubby cheeks, cradling him to your chest as you got up from the floor, careful to not drop him or bump him into anything.

As you took him back to his room, routinely changing his diaper and clothes, you thought back to the small breakdown you almost had had a few minutes ago, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was no use in imagining a future where Simon fit in, you'd given him enough time to answer, to show any signs of life at all. You were alone.

You were on the verge of tears as you placed Tommy in his tiny crib, handing him the small duck plushie your grandma had knitted a few months back when she had come to visit, watching him cling onto it in his sleep for a few moments, his soft breaths and coos tranquillising the waves of anxiety threatening to drown you.

"Good night, Tom." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek before flicking on the night light, carefully closing the door and resting your body against it, a shaky sigh leaving your chapped lips.

God, you were pathetic. Hung up over a man who you'd only known for a few hours, who'd left you with a baby (unknowingly or not, didn't matter), who still haunted your dreams every time you tried to get some rest. Why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Why had he just given you his fucking number if he wasn't bothering on answering? Why had he gotten into your head so easily, with his sweet nicknames and soft kisses? Why couldn't you just fucking mov-

Your whole body jumped as the shrill doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around the flat and no doubt reaching Tommy's sensitive ears.

"God, yeah, I hear it!" You cried out as the sound didn't stop, starting to get worried that it would wake your baby up and then you'd have to deal with putting him to sleep all over again. "Fuck! I know, I'm coming!"

You looked through the peephole, eyebrows furrowing as you gazed upon a man's tacky army jacket instead of the normal face, so either this guy was incredibly fucking tall or he was standing on a stool.

Knowing that the area you lived in wasn't the safest, you unlocked the door but kept the chain latch on, a gap big enough so you could see the guy outside but not big enough for him to attack you.

"What?" You snapped, a bit harsher than how you'd normally answer the door, but this guy didn't really deserve any respect after how he'd basically abused your doorbell to the point of the sound still ringing in your ears. "What do you-"

Your gaze had been fixed onto his chest, scanning the army jacket you had spied through the peephole, cringing internally at the Union Jack plastered on his left bicep, hoping to God that he wasn't some type of Tory propagandist going door to door. But as your eyes trailed up to meet his, your mouth went dry.

Crystal blue eyes framed by pretty blonde eyelashes (identical to the blue eyes your son had been staring up at you with for the past three months), contrasting with the black face paint that was smeared around his eyes, the rest of his face obscured by that damn skull balaclava that haunted you.

It was him. It was fucking him.

"Simon." You said his name breathlessly, not missing the way his body stiffened at your shaky tone.

"Yeah. It's me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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pennylanewrites · 8 months

Text

teacher’s aide (levi ackerman)

warnings: m!masturbation, voyerism, alcohol, smoking, age gap (15 years), me pushing my smitten!levi agenda

levi ackerman was an esteemed and recognised sociology professor. stern, strict and to the point in all of his lectures. most of his classes kept quiet, trying to take notes while he talked fast and went through powerpoint slides like it was the morning paper.

you had been working hard for that teacher’s aide position for two years, when you finally got the acceptance email. it was no secret on campus that professor ackerman’s assistants worked closely to him and got accepted in prestigious firms right after college, with his recommendation of course.

it was also no secret that professor ackerman was incredibly good-looking. his veiny arms and broad shoulders made up for his short height and the way his raven hair fell over his rectangular seeing glasses was so…

“y/n.” his stern voice shook you out of your thoughts. crap. the whole auditorium was staring at you. “the papers.” was all he said before going back to his laptop. you looked down at your hands, realising you were holding the class’s tests for more than you should. you cleared your throat and went through the auditorium, leaving a stack of papers in front of each student. as you walked down, your eye caught his.

levi noticed everything. he noticed how today you were wearing lipgloss instead of your usual lipstick, he noticed the rip in your tights that went down the back of your leg, your new platform loafers and the beads of sweat on your forehead. levi ackerman was not the kind of man that would catch feelings for a student, but you were so…good.

yes, at first he thought you were very attractive, and maybe that’s why he always rejected your aide application. but he also got to know you better every time you replied to one of his questions. you were the only student brave enough to raise their hand, and he appreciated that. sooner than later, you stayed back every day after class to clean up the mess of loose papers and pens, and before he knew it he was smitten.

maybe it was the way you brushed against him to clean the board and shut the projector, a timid apology escaping your lips, or the way you weren’t afraid to challenge him in a theoretical conversation about archaic philosophy during class.

or maybe…shit, how long have i been staring? levi looked away and cleared his throat when he noticed you trying to contain your smile.

class was over and you were going through your usual routine, marking left over questionnaires from the last lecture as he went through tomorrow’s one.

“sir, i’m wondering about…” you rolled your chair across the auditorium’s stage, holding onto his desk to stop the chair, “this one.” you pointed at a question on the paper.

levi was not one to lose his temper, but he was finding it very hard to contain himself when your knee was touching his and your perfume could reach his brain through his nose.

“well, this-this one…” he trailed off, watched you push your hair off your neck, leaving the bare skin on sight for him. god, he could eat you right then and there.

levi had never been more thankful for his phone to ring in his life. the vice dean’s name flashed on the screen, and you leaned back to allow him to get the device.

“i have to go…meeting…come by my office tonight, okay?” he scrambled to get his things and ran off, leaving you in the empty auditorium.

you let your head fall on your pillow, groaning with despair. he hates me. he can’t even talk to me.

you had seen him earlier with petra, his old t.a who graduated last year. he was laughing, for fuck’s sake. he was laughing and buying her coffee in the campus coffee house, and they were sitting over a book and…

“ugh! what is she even doing here?” you threw your pillow on the floor, but it hit you back in the face.

“oh my god, shut up!” your roommate kept hitting you with the pillow, until you grabbed it. “enough, y/n, please.”

“mikasa, do you think they’re dating?” you sat up on the bed, looking at the girl across you. “be honest, i can take it.”

“i think you’re sick. there’s something seriously wrong with you.” she scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“he’s so…”

“old.”

“mature.”

“he’s mature because he’s old.” your roommate kindly reminded you of your age difference. “get over him, please. even if he liked you, he’s your teacher. i doubt he would put his job in danger.”

your eyes lit up, an excited smile covering your earlier gloom.

“you think he likes me?”

“that’s not what i said. where are you going?”

you only grinned before grabbing your bag and barging out of the dorm room. your shoes squeezed against the polished floors as you made your way to the teachers’ wing, and to the third door to your left, your favourite wooden door in the world.

with a sigh, you lifted your fist to knock, but something made you freeze. you looked around to make sure no one was in the corridor, before pushing your ear against the door.

shit, shit, shit, shit

he was moaning. fucking moaning, in his office, when he had specifically told you to visit him. you thought of the possibility of him having a girl in there, even petra, but no one else could be heard. everything right in your head was telling you to turn around and leave, but your hand was on the doorknob, and you were slowly twisting it.

just one look. one look and i’ll-

your eyes grew wide at the sight. a half empty bottle of bourbon sat next to an empty glass, a cigarette was slowly burning on the ashtray, the first two buttons of his white shirt were undone. god, you could clearly see his nipples through the fabric. the desk obscured your vision, but you could see his hand moving up and down, up and down, up-

“fu-fuuuck.” his voice strained, his head fell back and you were wet a creep.

you turned around and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. looking at your reflection on your phone, you made sure pervert wasn’t written across your forehead, and turned back around.

two soft knocks on the door. levi fixed his hair quickly, buttoned his shirt and put the cigarette out.

“come in.” you entered the room and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“long day?” you pointed at the bottle, smiling softly. he chuckled and motioned for you to sit down. “i can come back some other…” you trailed off when he took another glass out, filling it halfway and pushing it towards you.

you fidgeted with a ring on your finger, unsure of what to do.

“i shouldn’t…”

“i won’t tell if you won’t.” he filled his own glass and raised it to you, before taking a sip. you smiled softly, taking a sip of the drink. it burned coming down, just like his gray stare on you did.

“i have the tests marked. that question i was wondering about earlier,” you took the stack of papers out of your bag, leaving them in front of the man.

“yeah, i looked it up. it’s actually-”

“i figured it out.” you cut him off. he raised an eyebrow and put his glasses on, looking down at the marked paper, and the right answer which you had wrote down in red ink.

“you did.” he agreed and looked at you through strands of his raven hair. “good girl.”

you froze. you could feel your whole face turning an ugly shade of red. a million disgusting thoughts ran through your head as he walked around the desk to sit on the chair across from yours. his muscles flexed as he reached over the desk to get the ashtray and his drink. you took a big sip of the drink, trying to convince yourself the sexual tension was just in your head.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

“what?” he shook you out of your thoughts. he knew you were staring at him.

“nothing. i’ve never seen you like this.” you admitted, still sipping your drink.

“like what?”

like you don’t have a stick up your ass.

“relaxed.” you opted for the nice comment.

“i’m far from relaxed, trust me.” you watched as he placed a cigarette between his wet lips, lighting it with a white lighter.

“those are bad luck.” you took the lighter in your hand, fidgeting with it.

“huh. maybe that’s why my life’s shit.” he chuckled, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“come on…” your eyes fell on a book on his desk.

masculine domination, pierre bourdieu. you grinned, taking it in your hands to inspect the front page.

“take it. it’s for my doctorate students, but i think you-”

“i’ve read it.” you closed it and put it back on the pile.

“of course you have. you’re a smart girl, you know?”

he was praising you. and he was filling your glass again. when did you even finish the first?

“are you trying to get me drunk, sir?”

“i think you’re capable of controlling yourself.”

“don’t be so sure.” you mumbled, staring at your feet.

“what was that?”

“nothing!” you shook it off with a smile, but he had heard you just fine.

god, you wanted him so bad. as the hours went by, and the bottle came to its’ end, you became more and more impatient. you were scared of what you would do honestly, if one more drop of alcohol entered your system. but, were you crazy to think he wanted this too? why would he pour you a drink, and ask you all these questions, and make you laugh with stupid jokes if he-

“what are you thinking about?” he shook you out of your thoughts. you showed him the clock on the wall.

“that i should get going. some teacher thought it would be a good idea to have an 8 am class.” you grinned. you reached your hand out to return him his lighter, but you dropped it instead.

“that’s one lousy teacher.” he chuckled, kneeling on the floor to get the lighter. you waited for him to get up, so you could too, but he wouldn’t move. still kneeling, he came closer to you, his hands hesitantly moving to rest on the sides of your thighs.

internally, you were screaming. but not a single breath came out of your mouth as you watched him. he sighed and finally locked eyes with you.

“i’m not crazy, am i?”

“wh-what?” your voice came out as a whisper. pathetic.

“to think there’s something, right? here. there’s something here and i-”

“sir-”

“don’t.” he squeezed your thighs and you swore your heart would jump out your chest sooner or later. he straightened his back and got up, pulling you with him. “don’t call me sir.”

you let him seat you on top of his desk, you let him spread your legs and stand between them. he pushed your hair behind your ear and inched closer. his breath against your neck made you shiver, and a soft kiss forced a small gasp out of your mouth.

your hands trembled as you placed them around his neck, and his breath staggered when you played with the strands of hair that fell on his undercut.

“please kiss me.” he swore his knees would give when he heard your voice, so soft, so sweet. you were as needy for him as he was for you.

his strong hands met your face, his silver ring cooled your burning cheek. you closed your eyes, and his lips finally met yours. it was careful at first, both of you scared the other would change their mind. but all it took was you pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, and he lost his mind. his hands slipped down to your waist and you arched your back to get closer to him, if that was even possible. your mouth trailed to his jaw, leaving sloppy kisses all the way down his neck. a playful bite made him gasp. you chuckled.

“stop. you’ll drive me crazy.” he squeezed your hip.

“good.” you grinned and leaned in to kiss him again, but his hand in your hair held you back.

“you have to go…” he managed between soft kisses down your chest, at least as far as your shirt allowed, “or i won’t be able to stop.” he held your hands, and kissed them both, maintaining eye contact with you.

“then don’t stop.” you whined, but your grin turned into a frown when he pulled you off the desk and fixed your skirt. “levi-”

“save something for later, right?”

his promise of a later was enough. you left him to clean up and walked out the door with a sheepish smile and a whispered goodnight.

your phone buzzed on your way back to the dorms, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw the name on the screen.

professor ackerman: wear that green dress tomorrow.

you raised an eyebrow.

just the dress.

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader smut #attack on titan smut #aot college au #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi x reader #levi x reader smut #levi aot #levi snk #levi smut #soft levi #n/sfw

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elsweetheart · 2 years

Note

Can I please have Abby dicking down her shy gf with a strap-on

Love your blog btw 💙💙

thank u !! 🎀

only you.

🎀 minors + ageless blogs do not interact !! shy!reader and dom!abby yum :)

• your face is buried into the pillow you hold against your chest. you can’t look at her, you can’t — or else you might finish before she’s even really gotten to fuck you.

• but it’s abby you’re with, and you knew your moments of hiding away from the pleasure weren’t to last long as soon as she catches on that your shyness is getting the better of you.

• she was rubbing the tip of her strap up and down your soaked core, letting it nudge your clit as you squirmed against it with a muffled whine. she slid it down towards your hole and pressed it against the tightness.

• “you’re tensing up. gotta relax for me.” she hummed in her deeper voice, a hand coming up to massage your hips as she finally looked up at you. “and stop hiding.” she held back a smirk.

• you whined, because it wasn’t enough that you were completely nude, your hips pulled up to be elevated sat on her thighs as she sits on the bed before you — but she also was now demanding that you expose yourself even more. “but i’m—”

• “shy?” she completed for you, having always used that excuse. she gently eased the pillow away from you and you stared up at her guiltily, pupils dilated and lips swollen from biting down on. “shy girls don’t get fucked like this. only you.” you figured it was meant to come out as a little degrading or teasing, but from her voice it sounded loving as she began to rub soothing circles on your clit making your toes curl and breath catch in your throat.

• “abby. please.” you let her take the pillow away fully, hands coming up to grab her strong arms instead. “i’ll relax, i’ll — i’ll be good.” you whimper, trying to grind down on the plastic cock she was withholding ever so slightly. she loves when she gets you desperate and all your shyness goes out the window, putting your pride aside to beg for her.

• “you’re always good. just need you to be brave.” she reiterated, and pushed the strap in slowly — the satisfying fullness making you moan out, going to cover your face but stopping yourself. she sighed out at how she could feel you gripping the girth of the strap, both hands dwarfing your waist once she was pushed in to the hilt. “see how good you take that? nothing to be shy about is there?” she blew a loose strand of hair that had fallen free from her braid out of her face before she began thrusting, the tip grazing your g spot already making you cry out.

• “abby, mhpmgh—” you were sobbing five minutes later, the sound of the plastic fucking into you creating a wet slapping sound through the previously cold room.

• “aw, where’s my quiet girl now hm? all desperate and whiney. you wanna cum so bad don’t you?” she panted, her lips grazing below your jaw as she dropped kisses there.

• “mhm.” was all you could manage when she snaked a hand between your bodies and thumbed at your clit once more.

• “tell me what you want. be brave one more time and i’ll let you cum all over my fucking cock. you want that don’t you pretty girl?” she commanded and your legs locked around her ass, trying to pull her impossibly closer as you felt the tightness in your tummy building.

• “please just keep rubbing me there. s’gonna make me cum abs.” you wailed out, and that was all she needed to drive it home— fucking you until you practically exploded beneath her.

• once she was finally done with you, and best believe abby likes to play with you for a long time — your shyness crept back in as you screwed your eyes shut, cringing at all the depraved shit that came out your mouth. she pulled you closer as she caught her breath from quite the ab workout and watched you carefully with a small smile. she stroked the frown line between your brows as you privately cursed yourself out until your eyes fluttered open, face smoothing out a little despite you still looking tense.

• “whats the face for?” she kissed your temple.

• “just embarrassed. i was acting all… dirty.” you avoided her eyes and she held back a laugh as to not embarrass you further. she took your chin gently in her grasp and made you look up at her with an earnest expression.

• “you sure were… it was pretty—” she kissed you. “sexy—” she kissed you again. “if you ask me.”

#abby anderson smut #tlou2 smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson prompt #abby tlou2 smut

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lexluvswriting · 5 months

Text

ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 2 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. Dual p.o.v!!

-> (TW): Eris Vanserra, slightly softer today, Lucien cameo!! Beron Vanserra is still a c-

W/C: 2.8k (what a coincidence)

╰┈➤ Lex's note: I hope this chapter was a bit more reader and Eris focused!! i wanted to add some backstory to Eris -even tho there isnt much to go off- (slightly ooc as i am embellishing a lil, teehee!) ALSO: I did a dual p.o.v!! Thought it might be cute! pls lmk how we feel abt it!!

A gentle breeze swept back the Lady of the Autumn Court’s hair as she sat out on her balcony. The moon dangled in the sky, and a small ball of auburn hair shifted in the lap of the Lady- two golden eyes blinking through baby tears up at the female who watched the moon with an expression Lucien had seen before, but could never name. There was angry yelling in the distance, deep within the manor as glass shattered and feet stomped around.

“Why does he always do that, mamma?” A little voice called out. The Lady sighed in response, lips parting to bestow more motherly reassurance when another voice answered.

“Because he’s a horrible man, Lucien.” Eris, stone faced despite his youth, stalked towards his mother and younger brother as he entered the balcony clearing.

Eris Vanserra was many things. A big brother. A good dancer, a cheater at all the games, a little fox. And he certainly wasn’t an idiot.

“Did he write to you again? Is that why he’s angry?” Silence hung on the end of his question, sliding off the words like a droplet of dew as the Lady extended her other arm, and ushered Eris closer. Both boys held their mother, who looked up at the sky with weary eyes.

But they weren’t weary- they were tired, but not exhausted. Sad but not miserable. It was like she was holding onto-

“I hoped to negotiate with your father about letting Lucien see… him. But it didn’t… work out well.” Her voice was hushed, like the whisper of a willow that swayed by the lake near the manor.

There it was. Hope.

“Why bother? You know he’ll only hit you. Why do you let him? Why can’t he- why can’t-” Anger bubbled up in Eris the same way it did in his father, and that only made the boy more angry as he pulled away, kicking a loose rock over the edge of the balcony.

“Why can’t he help you? And take you away from this?”

“But where will you go, Eri?” Lucien’s sleepy voice cooed, the little one rubbing at his eyes with chubby fists. Eris glared at his younger brother- as if he was foolish for not understanding.

“I would stay back with father- to make sure he…” The words constricted in his throat. The Lady of Autumn hugged Eris again, tears welling up in both pairs of eyes.

“I know. I know. You are so brave, Eris. My sweet little fox, the boy who would string up the world for me.” Her words were always flowery and poetic- they always made the tips of his ears go bright red, but tonight he allowed them to find their mark as he hugged his mother tightly while her kisses littered the side of his head. Little Lucien, who squirmed when he realised he was missing out on the affections, stood up on wobbly feet as he grabbed his mother’s hand.

“Mamma, if I hang the moon on a sting, will you kiss me too?”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your brows were furrowed in concentration as you planted your foot firmly on the ground, counting in before sucking in a breath as you went up on pointe, earning a grunt of approval from Gustav, who simply let the music play as you began to run through the steps of the solo.

“Wrong- immediately. Your transition from the pas de deux should be seamless- as if he wasn’t even there. They are focusing on you- You are the one with the power- you are the one with eyes following. They will be watching your every movement.”

Every word that left his mouth made you scowl harder, and your pirouettes became faster and faster, until you were a blur. A ‘thwack’ startled you, a stinging sensation against your thigh made you flinch and fall to the ground.

“Gus!”

“Wrong! All of it- wrong! What is wrong with you? Where is my jewel? Bring her back, instead of this monstrous thing. Money is on the line- my studio is on the line- prestige and fame for you is on. The. Line! Get it together. Again!” The orchestral backing seemed to rewind and restart, and your eyes glowered at the ballet master who simply inspected his nails, elbow leaning on his ‘discipline stick’, a thin, long piece of wood that ‘thwacked’ against the limbs of any sorry dancer who ‘lacked discipline’. You had been very familiar with it- an arch nemesis from youth, yet you let out a huff, which Gustav mocked, though you rolled your shoulders and resumed first position.

You danced- your arms swinging around as your legs carried you across the wooden floor. You saw glimpses of your reflection- and you weren’t at all displeased with what you saw. Strong, dedicated, pretty- Primrose would croon these at you prepared before a session, and they had found a mark in your heart as you paraded yourself around. You tried to push all the worries out of your mind for the moment, honouring the music that played by worshipping it with the graceful movements of your body, twirling and leaping- not like a dancer, but like a leaf on the wind. Like a stalk in the long grass. Like the pretty ember in a lantern.

Your heart raced in your chest, beating wildly despite the organised chaos of the accompaniment you danced to. All you had to do was dance- the rest would sort itself out, right? All you had to do was keep your head down, do your pretty dance, do it correctly and get the royal family of the Autumn court off your back. Then you could go back to being a normal dancer at a normal studio and pray that you weren’t swept up in the exodus that seemed to be occupying most of the Autumn Court. The shrill song of a violin pulled you out of the sea of thoughts just in time for you to complete a grand jeté before the coda started. As the steps got more complex- and dangerous, if you didn’t land them properly, you didn’t notice a bug eyed Gustav who had looked above to see a certain lordling glowering down at you- his russet irises blazing with an unreadable, but probably shrewd emotion as his eyes tracked your every movement while you danced.

You were having the time of your life- your blood always ran when you had to perform the more complicated sequences. Plié, pas de basque, pas de bourrée, glissade, a wondrous grand jeté- high enough for you to touch the ceiling if you really wanted to- land into another plié, and then, your favourite- the fouettes. You could get lost in these if you really wanted to, and perhaps you would, with the way you caught yourself smiling slightly in your reflection. Gustav hadn’t protested, or warned you not to go crazy, so you did the usual routine, body charging up to spin and spin and spin. A crescendo of the music made you stop spinning, and you saved yourself by doing a more ‘modern’ move as you tumbled across the floor, only to end up on your feet again, hands poised perfectly in the air in your finishing pose as the music slowly ceased. You laughed a little, amused at your ballet master’s silence before you noticed him staring at something, bug eyed and pale skinned. You realised he hadn’t looked at you at all, and your gaze followed, head tilting up until you noticed your voyeur, and froze momentarily.

What to do? Hiss? Swear? Burp really loudly and slouch? Throw something? A hiss from Gustav to ‘bow!’ made you slowly turn your head to look at him with blatant disgust, before your eyes slid back up to Eris, rolling them as your lip curled out and you let out a soft, delicate “Ugh.”

You heard something that sounded like a snarl and a squeak from Gus behind you, but you waved a hand, declaring airly, “I’m taking five!”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Eris’ face was the last thing you saw in your mind as you went to the studio’s small cafe to purchase a well-earned treat. It’s certainly handsome. Well- Grumpy, miserable-looking, arrogant, snobbish and so so so many other wonderful adjectives. But you had to give him credit… He was… pretty.

The croissant you purchased was steaming hot, so you tossed it in its brown paper bag between both hands, fingertips suitably warmed against the cool autumn weather. You walked along the hallway, your eyes focused on the large, golden gilded framed portraits of various dancers who had also traisped about the hallway you ambled through, croissant in hand as you appreciated each stroke of paint which captured their serious, serene expressions. You stopped in front of a painting to take a bite out of your warm treat- the clerk claimed it was filled with raspberry coulis, but you figured she was lying after the first bite, where you had bitten into nothing but fluffy, buttery goodness. The second bite was as uneventful as the first, but it was the third that made you jolt, as a hot, raspberry-ness flooded your mouth, your hand cupping under the treat a few seconds too late, before you heard a ‘splat!’, peeking down and swearing softly as raspberry hit the marbled floor.

“Oh… bloody… fuck.” You hissed, glaring at the dark pink splat, before stomping back to get tissues, kneeling down at your mess and sighing irritatedly- that would have been the perfect bite if the filling didn’t try to jump down your throat.

“Charming.” A voice replied, and you noticed the tips of brown, shiny leather shoes near your knees, making your eyes narrow. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Eris Vanserra peered down at you, his grating voice a drawl as you slowly craned your head to peer up at him with an unamused glare, to which his lips quirked to the side in a crooked smirk.

“I hope you won’t be this uncouth when you perform for my family.” You immediately stopped kneeling, lest to give him any more of an inflated ego than he already has, and glowered.

“I don’t really care what you nor your family think of me.”

“Charming, indeed.” He hummed, russet eyes filled with a smug gleam, the light seeming to dance in his irises the more you glowered and frowned at him. You both stared at each other, you more hostile in your gaze than he, before you turned away to distance yourself and ignore him, only for his grating voice to sound off again, your ears catching his reply a little too attentively for your liking.

“You’ll have to accompany me to the Equinox ball even after you dance, by the way. It is custom- and honourable for someone like… yourself.” His eyes slowly scanned your face, meeting your eyes before they found something else on you to hone in on.

Oh, brilliant. Here we go.

“Someone like myself?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow as irritation made itself known even more than before.

“Of course. Independent, apprehensive, different. I’m surprised you can even bear to be in those impossible costumes and tutus. It’s like putting a bonnet on a bear.” His smile- mocking, unserious, condescending, was all you could focus on- your ears twitching at his tone of voice.

‘Apprehensive? Different! I’ll show him apprehensive-’

“Hah! ‘Different’?” You kissed your teeth, nodding before standing in front of his face, raising your coulis filled croissant and taking an aggressive bite, letting a small, thick glob of raspberry splatter onto his shiny, pretty shoes. Eris let out a small grunt as he stepped back, glaring down at his shoes for a long time, before his gaze lifted up to you, only to see your back as you had stormed off promptly, croissant in hand.

“You have something on your face, by the way!” His voice called out, in what you could only figure was mockingly. A hand raised up to the corner of your mouth, and you swore under your breath, yet you doubled down.

“And you’ve got something on your shoes!”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Eris blinked at the dancer down below, his eyes wide with awe. From the first time he had seen her at the start of the week, she managed to become more and more brilliant over time- as if each day that he didn’t see her, she became more talented and beautiful. [Y/N] was your name. [Y/N] [L/N].

He had seen you when you debuted for one of your more high-achieving roles- had taken his mother privately for a viewing of one of the ballets that had played in the amphitheatre when just after Amarantha had been destroyed- a celebration of freedom. Your rendition of Swan Lake, and your variation of the white and black swan had brought the Lady of Autumn to tears- how could a small thing like you capture the understanding of being trapped, of isolation and grief so beautifully? For a long time he had wondered about you- even at balls, where he waltzed around with other nameless women that could never compare to your poise and discipline- your fluidity and grace. Did you like to waltz? Were you shy and reserved? Angelic and sweet? Or were you alluring and confident? Seductive and playful?

Neither, he had decided when you looked up at him with your evident disdain, and your uncaring sneer. You were a third, greater thing. And you were absolutely magnificent. He realised there and then that he had to speak with you, even if just for a brief moment- he needed to feel the brunt of your fire firsthand. So when he had spied you walking through the halls so prettily, each step poised and perfect even off-duty, it made him feel strange. He just had to be close to you.

“Charming.” He mused, though he had paused when he realised he had spoken out loud. He wanted to correct himself, but your gaze knocked the air out of him, and he panicked- opting for his signature smirk to disguise his awkwardness.

‘Whatever is going on, snap out of it.’ He thought harshly, before blinking as he realised he had been staring- so he spoke again.

“I hope you won’t be this uncouth when you perform for my family.” His voice was smooth, cool and collected like it usually was, and he was amused by your glower. Were you this angry all the time? It was oddly endearing, in a strange, funny way. Cauldron, your gaze was unforgiving. He wondered how many stupid males had been on the end of it.

“I don’t really care what you nor your family think of me.” His ears twitched slightly at that tone, and something stirred within him, making him want to smile. Oh, you were really funny when you were upset.

“Charming, indeed.” He nodded, a smile growing on his face as he admired you, enjoying the banter you two seemed to share.

“You’ll have to accompany me to the Equinox ball even after you dance, by the way. It is custom- and honourable for someone like… yourself.” His eyes slowly scanned your face, and he hoped he didn’t sound too excited when he mentioned it. He’d get to waltz with you, and show off his skills, and hope that you’d be as impressed with him as he was with you. He was too excited indeed, though he was curious with the way your irritation grew.

“Someone like myself?” You repeated, and he wanted to laugh. You were so silly!

“Of course. Independent, apprehensive, different. I’m surprised you can even bear to be in those impossible costumes and tutus. It’s like putting a bonnet on a bear.” He joked, enjoying himself greatly as he caught your attention and held onto it as long as he did. You were quite apprehensive, yes. Very grouchy and unagreeable, but still certainly pretty. He was proud of his ‘bears in bonnets’ joke too- that usually worked wonders with anyone he mentioned it to.

So why were you still looking at him like that? And did you know about the smear of raspberry under your lower lip? He wanted to tell you, or wipe it off at least when you spoke again.

“Hah! ‘Different’?” You made a noise that he recognised as irritation, and Eris watched you shift your stance, as if you were aiming to lob the pastry you had been eating at him. Had he misspoke? He watched you move closer to him, his eyes on your mouth as you raised the croissant and bit into it messily, letting a small, thick glob of raspberry splatter onto his shoes.

How inconvenient.

Eris let out a small grunt as he stepped back, blinking dumbly at his shoes for a long time, before his gaze lifted up to you, only to see your back as you had stormed off promptly.

“You have something on your face, by the way!” His voice called out in a weak attempt to be helpful.

“And you’ve got something on your shoes!”

Hah! She was certainly... spirited. That was no way to treat a Vanserra. She wouldn't last a minute in front of his father. Eris chuckled as he glanced down at his shoes again, clicking his tongue.

He'd simply have to come back and see you again.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: AHHHH it's done!! almost 3k AGAIN lmfao. i hope the dual p.o.v was good & made sense!!! if not, lmk and i'll stick solely to reader p.o.v only!! tysm everyone for the love this is getting! ch 3: 29/04 Week!! 🥹🫶🏼

#lexluvswriting: l'autunno #eris vanserra x reader #acotar #eris x reader #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra #eris fic #eris vanserra the idiot you are #lex luvs eris vanserra #eris x you #eris x y/n #x female reader #x fem!reader #acotar x fem!reader

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nicotinemaiden · 4 months

Text

The sapphire mirrored in his gaze;

Pairing: Gale x Sissia (F!Tav)

Rating: E (Smut)

Tags: Jealousy, Inappropriate use of Evard's Black Tentacles, Mage Hand and Astral Projection, Double penetration, Threesome, Very Explicit Sex

Word count: 5,961

You can also read on AO3.

The vibrant red, playful tail of the tiefling wizard, Lorroakan’s pupil as he had so enthusiastically informed all of them, loosely caressed Sissia, the tiefling leader of their little party, until it had her ankle surrounded and it could boldly venture upwards along her leg. The bard’s own tail swayed happily from one side to the other behind her figure, dragging the tip along the wooden floor languidly, her fourth cup of ale quickly coming to an end in her hands.

Gale’s eyebrow rose, looking at them from the wall at the side, curious to learn if she even realized what was happening, how she was being flirted with while the man's siblings celebrated their freedom by dancing and drinking with all of their group — their saviours, after all.

He hadn’t planned on staying apart, leaning against a wall and keeping an eye on everyone on the base floor of Last Light Inn. He had drunk quite a bit too and had been chatting with his companions in the same joyful manner for a good chunk of the night yet after allowing his eyes to feast upon their leader’s flesh and shape and gradually watching her grow more and more amused he couldn’t go back to his cheerful self, couldn’t look away when he noticed the closeness the inferior wizard of the room felt comfortable sharing with the woman he had come to admire, the closeness she had gleefully allowed.

Of course, she wasn’t his, it wasn’t his problem who she chose to spend her days — or nights — with, or shouldn’t be. They were really close friends, confidants. They had enjoyed more than a moment of intimacy together that had given him hope she could feel something beyond friendship for him, be that interest, curiosity or simply attraction, but he hadn’t taken the chance for it to break completely, he hadn’t been brave enough to try and move a step further.

The last time he risked anything for a woman he lost almost everything: The person most important to him, most of his powers, his health, his freedom, time as he knew it. He would have been lucky to keep his life, even if he had just been wasting it while trying to fix himself, had his goddess not asked for it once again, had she not set upon his shoulder the weight of his most important mission until now, of his last mission.

And who was he to try and make a claim on someone as perfect as Sissia when he couldn’t even offer her more than a couple of nights at his side before he renounced everything, her included? Who was he to ask her to love him if it would be the same as loving a dead man? How could he play with her in such a manner, making them forget their worries and problems in each other for a night only to shove them back in her face when he followed through with what he had to do? With what she had told him she fervently opposed to.

He wanted to ask her to give her full heart to him without being able to lend her even a piece of his.

He wanted to take and seize each fold and layer of her body, to incinerate her into the fires she ignited in him, and be able to ignore it after, hiding the fact that she would be the last person he touched before ending it all.

The way the tieflings’ heads came closer to one another and the wizard’s hand briefly touched hers while he poured yet more alcohol into her glass was driving him crazy.

He had longed for her since shortly after they met for the first time, her smile so brilliant it challenged the sun for his money, her long, midnight hair threading between his fingers in his most vivid dreams, full, dark lips giving a definition to the word ‘temptation’.

He had come to accept Astarion flirting openly with her, had come to ignore Wyll’s advances, sweet words and dances, had come to look away when Lae’zel aggressively explained in words what she wanted to do to her and what she wanted done. He had come to understand that, being as she was, most in their group would be extremely glad to have her even for a while, some of them clearly wanting even more. She had never accepted any of them, at least not in public, at least not informing the rest of the camp. Perhaps it was even a conscious decision, trying to avoid conflict whenever possible. She was a friend to all of them and nothing more.

It still made him jealous, the ease with which the vampire made her chuckle and laugh, the color of her cheeks sometimes warmer than usual. He couldn’t control his reaction when he saw her dancing and turning beside the warlock’s presence and he had almost jumped away and hidden under his blanket when he overheard Karlach insinuatingly offer to smash her against the floor. He had wanted to say something himself, usually getting content with some playful jokes, not wanting to put her in a complicated position, not even if there was something in her gaze that told him she was waiting for him, not even after she flirted back slightly, biting her lower lip and smiling. Sissia knew the effect she had on people and usually joked without getting anyone’s hopes up… until now.

He couldn’t answer if it was because of the drinks, because he had seen her drunk before at the party these same tieflings had thrown at them after their triumph against the goblin camp and its leaders, but she seemed a lot worse for wearing now, looser, a tad freer. True, he had also been allowed to unwind and drink more since his orb was under control, so perhaps he was just seeing things, imagining his fears without a real reason behind them.

His gaze drifted towards them again, their stools so close their thighs were touching each other and he inhaled deeply, allowing the air to expel itself from his nose as if it would help him relax. He had no right to be altered — if he had a problem he should just leave, snatch a bed upstairs and sleep away the night until morning came again and his main focus became Mystra’s mission instead of the tiefling bard that made him want to have extra time, that made him want to explore mortal pleasures he hadn’t had the opportunity before, that gave him hope that things could have another solution.

Walking past them, doing his best not to look at her face, he grabbed one of the full bottles on the counter and moved towards the stairs and into a small, lonely room with little else but a candle, a cupboard, an almost empty bookshelf, a chair and a bed. It didn’t look especially comfy but he at least could enjoy his solitary party inside, perhaps one of the books was entertaining enough for a couple hours. It was better this way — if he had to keep looking at them flirting and fluttering any longer he would lose his mind for the night and set himself up for some trouble, he was sure of it. He wasn’t one to defend any kind of violence unless it was strictly necessary but he had also started to realize he very much was feeling it essential at the moment, the inexperienced and unpolished tiefling wizard a perfect target for him to practice his accuracy. A part of his mind had him convinced defeating him in a magical fight would swoon Sissia his way but he knew better than to believe her so shallow and it only made him angrier — he had no idea how to catch her attention but way too many inspirations about what to do once he had it.

He moved to let his staff leant against the wall and rest the bottle on the table before closing the door but he was interrupted by the tiefling bard they had stated as their leader waiting against the doorframe, a worried look in her beautiful blue and black eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. Her voice was silky and sweet, softly wondering about him in an innocent manner — too innocent for how she was sprayed in the images of his mind.

“Everything alright Gale? I saw you fleeing the lower floor. Do you need something?”

Fleeing was undoubtedly a fine way to put it, given the fact that it was exactly what he had done. And he needed a lot of things, most of them related to how she had stepped inside a room where he found himself alone with her, most of them too wicked to share out loud. Lowering the bottle to the table he turned towards her, shooking his head slowly. How many glasses had he drank again? The colors were extremely vibrant and each movement took a long time to finish. His mind was focused on the curvature of her exposed neck and cleavage, wanting to run his tongue through it until her sweat watered his throat.

“Oh. No, don’t worry your head with me, I’m perfectly fine, just seeking a bit of quiet. But you better not keep your overly friendly wizard waiting for you — it wouldn’t be right of me to steal your precious time.”

Walking into the room with a steadier step than he would have had himself she let the door slide closed and raised a brow at him, soon realizing what it was that he was talking about and moving a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, her cheeks dying themselves darker. In a curious gesture he had seen only a couple of times before, her tail hugged her right leg and left the tip caressing her skin anxiously, the short sapphire dress she had borrowed to make the night more special sticking to her figure and leaving almost no curves for him to imagine, her shape perfect for his hands to study every inch of it.

“Do you mean Rolan? Well, yes, he’s… interesting, but he is not my wizard, is he? He can wait, I need to care for my people first.”

He inhaled, his breathing coming short after listening to her call him ‘her’ wizard. He was sure there was something wrong with his brain, besides the obvious, because he could feel it failing. He hoped she wasn’t able to see the smoke he was almost sure he was producing.

“No, I mean… It’s obvious he has other intentions for you and that you find the idea… compelling, at the very least. Far it be for me to rob you of the opportunity. The luxury of time is scarce for us and we should make the most of it.”

Alarmed and taken aback for a moment she stepped towards him as if she wanted to erase the idea from his mind but their eyes clashed and her attitude changed, a small, playful smile showing at the side of her mouth. He feared what she could do with the knowledge she had just gained, the knowledge he had inadvertently allowed her to get.

“It’s true, we should make the most of it. So, tell me, Gale, would you be in favor of me leaving this room and losing myself in Rolan’s arms? Would you be alright with me fucking him until our mouths were dry and we succumbed to fatigue? Do you want me to suck him until my tongue loses sensitivity? Is that what you’re telling me to do?”

So she wasn’t so naïve after all — she had been aware of everything and had played along all the same, her words a reality he knew would be easy for her to take. But she was asking his opinion, she was provoking him with her explicit sentences, her eyes informing him of a challenge, of a possibility, of an open door that had always been there but he had been too cowardly to take.

If he said yes at the moment he had no doubt she would do it, if only to spite him, to shove in his face what he had decided to decline. But she wasn’t here, having followed him all the way when she had no reason to, to listen to him surrendering. She hadn’t stated what ideas she had in a way so hot he was having trouble retaining her voice pronouncing the words without exploding for him to send her away. Or, perhaps, he was indeed too drunk for any of this and he was reading the interpretations he wanted in her words or, better yet, imagining this entire encounter.

Either way, it was too late for him. There was seldom a more dangerous person than someone with nothing to lose and he, at the moment, had nothing. It didn’t matter if he wanted something tied to feelings, it didn’t matter if she just played around with him. In the end, he just wanted to enjoy himself in the carnal pleasures he had forbidden himself from since the first time Mystra reached out to him. If he was going to die, if the world needed his sacrifice, he deserved to be brave and bold even if just for a couple of hours.

He approached her, towered over her until she was forced to step back, to lean against the wood of the door in his shadow. He wasn’t usually an intimidating person, his sanguine attitude making most people believe they were in no danger if their enemy was him, but he had the power to exterminate an entire city with a thought, he had the ability to turn to ashes an entire neighbourhood if he was in the wrong mood. And he knew how to use such attitude when he needed it, his usual easy smile turning into a frown, his hand landing near her head after slowly locking the door, taking the initiative of it, the sound clear against the otherwise silent room, to get so close to her one of his legs had started to move to the middle of hers.

“I don’t feel there’s a correct answer to that question. Yes, if that’s what you want to do. But no — if I have any say in the matter I can imagine better places for you to spend your night at.”

Her hand came teasingly to the edge of his robe, touching some of the body hair near the mark of his orb and making him breath deeply. He felt his own tension under her touch, the storm that brewed in his interior, the fear that he was, even if it didn’t seem like it, reading the situation backwards. Her eyes searched for him and remained there until she bit her lower lip in expectation, their respective gazes lowering to the other’s mouth, exercising their self-control by a thin thread.

“Can you? I’m open to any and all… suggestions. Rolan was very open about his. I’m intrigued about the alternatives, non-combat uses of the Thorn Whip spell… among others.”

He felt himself burning. She was going to end him without waiting for him to reach their objective. She was using the other wizard to make him jealous but not only that: she seemed to know what she was doing perfectly, the name rolling down her mouth as if she was about to go satisfy her curiosity if he didn’t offer an alternative. He had just needed to imagine her subjected to some of his spells, because she had just insinuated as such, because he had thought about it for so long, that he felt himself harden. He wanted to do so many things to her… and despite the fact that he wanted to offer her a special, romantic moment under the stars she was sure not to forget, he had also no drop of patience left, no more calm, warm love reserved for her, no more red candles under the blanket of the starry sky. He was too far gone for it, fighting with himself not to throw her against the bed with little to no care to remember the soft, detailed poems he had wound up for her before.

He had no doubt now. She was playing with him… and he wanted badly to play with her.

With a swift movement of one of his hands, her voice stating that she would experiment with the use of spells in more uncommon situations with another person motivation enough to test some of the theories that ran wild along his brain, he conjured one of his less-used spells, one he most probably wouldn’t have thought to use for such purpose if it wasn’t because she drove him crazy — Evard’s Black Tentacles.

True to his name she was promptly held against the door, her arms almost hanging together from the ceiling with the squishy rope threading between both of them and surrounding them both together and independently, her legs spread with the dark tentacles hugging them close to her center and curling around them teasingly, her dress distractingly pulling up until almost all of her legs were visible, stopped only thanks to her tail, who had tangled itself with another of the tentacles, their tips playing with each other. She moaned briefly and low while the magic surrounded her, closing her eyes in pleasure while her body ground against the door, against the tentacles, expecting more. Her sounds were approvingly, as if she was thanking him, as if she was confirming that it was exactly what she had been wanting.

He almost didn’t need anything else with the show he was lucky enough to be part of.

Almost, because he pressed his body against hers and she pushed back against his, their clothes becoming an obstacle and an annoyance. Almost, because his right hand ventured under her fitted dress while his left caressed the silky cloth of it right in the curve of her waist, and he was dying to see everything that was hidden under the fabric.

Her gaze was hot and impatient, lowering itself to his lips from time to time as if she was trying to send a message but, sadly for her, it was him who had the reins and, as much as he was dying to kiss her finally, as much torture he was subjecting himself to after pining for her for so long, he was also having a lot of fun seeing her desperation. Watching her slowly become undone thanks to him, all thoughts of the rest of the people away from their minds, coming back exclusively to remind him that, even for a night, she had chosen to give herself to him. He would do his best to show her it was the correct decision yet he would go all out with his wishes, with everything he wanted to try in so little time.

His fingers briefly brushed the outside of her panties, wet and excited, and he let got a soft ‘Fuck’ against her neck, her breathing racing in the same way his was, her body pressing against his fingers while her head moved to leave him space. He kissed her jaw, one, two, three times before moving his kisses lower, biting closer to her shoulder, licking the skin and the recent drop of sweat that had reached it. His fingers, on their part, sneaked inside her underwear and opened the folds of her cunt until he could start playing with her most sensible, external spot, her loud moan mixed with his name the most beautiful song he had ever seen the bard sign, despite how beautiful and captivating each was.

He left the motion repeating itself with a clasp of his fingers, a mage hand replacing him while his real hand moved even forward, his fingers easily breaking the wall between them fully and joining the inside of her pussy until he found the perfect spot for them and kept moving them away and into it time and time again.

Open-mouthed, without being able to barely form a thought, flushed and with her words faltering, his companion tried to get him to stop, tried to give pause to the tentacles that without asking for his permission had ventured inside the top area of her dress and were intensely playing with her chest and nipples, the entirety of the situation forcing her to almost reach the end when, moments ago, she had been fine. It had been too sudden but, despite her halfhearted attempt, they both wouldn’t change a thing. It was perfect.

“Gale… I can’t… It’s been too long, I just…”

He smirked, enjoying her breathless pronunciation of his name, the plea for him to give her a pleasure she had forgotten until now, the honor he had of helping her reach her climax. He bounded his control of the tentacles, the dark things reaching both her lower entrances and teasing them playfully while she tried to squeeze them between her thighs without success. And he couldn’t wait any longer. Not to make her cum for him and not to bathe himself in said fluid until there was not an inch of his cock outside of her. He blamed his impatience on his self-imposed celibacy after Mystra, to the extremely long time since he was able to feel another skin grinding towards his long before the goddess.

He removed his robe without any care, throwing it beside him and ignoring completely where it could land before hastily removing his undershirt too, his right hand stroking his member up and down almost desperately partly still inside his trousers while he bit and kissed any part of her that was within reach. She looked at what he was doing to himself, making an effort not to become constantly distracted by what he was doing to her, and bit her lip so strongly he smelled a drop of blood.

“Gods, just fuck me. Or should I call your rival up so you both can turn torturing me into a competition?”

There it was again, the jealousy of imagining the other tiefling watching her in this state, admiring her perked-up nipples against the sapphire fabric of her dress, his magic fucking her and preparing her for him.

No, she was his, his magic commanded violently, the possessiveness controlling him.

One of the tentacles ignored his previous orders — since he had been the first to lose said control in the first place — and entered her cunt fully and suddenly, making her scream in pained pleasure, her mouth salivating and her eyes closed until her release came brutally and her body trembled, exhausted, complete… needy, thirsty and impatient — her unconscious movements pleading for more, and more, and more.

Everything came to a stop while they both recuperated some air, while they both realized what they had just done and how, while they both accepted they wanted extra of it, of anything the other had to offer.

Gale was still touching himself when he dissipated his spells and allowed her to fall against him, his leg pinning her to the door still, her hands coming to aggressively grab his hair and pull him towards her, exploring and devouring every last part of his mouth, of his tongue, of his lips. He had never been kissed like that, like the world was about to suffer an ice age and they were the only ones capable of lighting a fire. He had dreamt about kissing her multiple times — awake and deep within the clutches of sleep she always found his way to him, becoming an obsession, a distraction, stealing even the last of his thoughts — yet it usually was something sweet, loving. Sometimes, if he was feeling brave, passionate and wild.

The problem was, as he had started to realize during his travels with her, reality often surpassed imagination.

The dance they found themselves in was brutal and primal, without any kind of rhythm or cohesion. They pulled and pushed at the other, trying to avoid their body from moving too far away, reclaiming the other’s tongue as if it were theirs by right.

The archmage's head was full of ideas — crazy, bold moves he had only been able to dream of before; magic mixing into their current realm, the animalistic, grounded, dirty side of everything he had learned to enjoy in an ethereal and mystical way now grinding against his mortal body and tainting it with sweat and saliva, the sensation, despite different and new, more than welcomed — and he decided not to lose a moment further thinking whether or not he should do it. If she had been fine with that beautiful, unique tentacle spell, she would be fine with what he had in mind.

He grabbed her until her legs surrounded his hips, still lost in each other, his right hand moving in the air to conjure one of his signature spells. He had used it in bed before but not in such a grounded way, not outside the astral planes or the ethereal sex he had grown used to. His astral projection, naked as he was brought into the world, was quick grabbing her, following each of his commands, transposing to him the sensations on his part as if he was in two places at the same time. He loved this spell and had no doubt present that once they were over it would be his favourite.

Allowing her to keep her right leg tied to the real him, her tail comfortably curled around his real thigh, but separating her left to give both of them space, to enjoy the touch of her inner thigh, his spell moved her hair out of the way to permit easy access to her ear, neck and shoulders, to surrender to them being ravished by the projection seconds after it came to life.

“Oh? Clever trick. But I thought you didn’t like to share.”

Making the projection easily remove her sapphire dress upwards and throwing it in the same direction as his own robe he attacked her chest and lower neck with his mouth, almost too impatient to answer.

“Is it sharing if it’s with myself? Because I will show you you don’t need anyone else.”

With an intake of breath, she moaned when his teeth caught one of her nipples, both reality and projection working together to remove the only piece of clothing remaining in her body before he left the weight to his projection to be able to remove his remaining clothing too. When he looked back she had turned to kiss his form made magic, her legs spread for him and her ass rubbing against the length of his projection’s cock and he felt his dick twitch in response of the image, of the very real feeling in his own length, of the arousal it created for him. She stopped, looking at the real him and calling him closer with the playful movement of her index finger, and once he heeded her calling and reclaimed the lips that were his she used her right hand to position him right in her middle and moved her body as downwards as she could in her position, taking him in like an inn that hadn’t had a customer in years, opening her doors to him and groaning and moaning against his lips while she became accustomed to his size.

Between slow movements and pleasure cries his projection spit on his hand and used it to lubricate the hole of her ass, playing with one finger, two fingers, three until she broke the kiss to get air back in her lungs, until her holes closed surrounding him to let be known that she couldn’t wait for longer. If he had known this is what she craved he would have fucked her senseless in an orgy of himself and her that would have made her stop looking at anyone else.

Pushing both her and his clone closer to the door Gale took the opportunity to enter her fully, to exit her completely only to fill her again. And again. And again. The slick, the fluids, the sweat, her flesh warm and tight around his… everything felt new, as if he was little different than a virgin just playing around for the first time. It had been so long since he had felt this kind of ‘human’ contact he had to make a conscious effort not to end their fun then and there, his strokes hard, deep and quick while the hand that was not supporting and clutching her leg against his hip caressed her waist and chest, getting lost in pinching her nipples.

He stopped moments after to allow his projection to finish what it had started, entering the hole of her ass slowly while she bit down his shoulder and her tail squeezed his leg further, its tip venturing to touch every part of him that was within reach without allowing his real body to move away, pushing it against her cunt even further.

But if he had trouble stopping his own pleasure while fucking her once, he had to take a brief moment from fucking her in two places, his brain complete mush, his heart working in overdrive. She moved her fingers to catch his chin and made him look at her, nodding slowly, her eyes amused and clouded by desire. Patiently she kissed him exactly as he had imagined her to kiss — a damsel after meeting her prince, the true love kiss of a fairy tale, her lips contorted into a sweet smile he had never seen her made before. Understanding, loving, playful.

He ground his hips against hers brutally, feeling the gratification of his clone’s cock brushing against his in perfect coordination, his pleasure quickly building up impulsed by her open moans and loud cries. Somehow, the fact that the other wizard could be listening in on them, realizing that he had lost the opportunity to take her as he was doing, filled him with elation.

They spend a regrettably short while in such a position until he felt her cunt shudder around him, pushing him towards the chasm that had been waiting all the time he had forced himself to be on edge, letting it build up and distracting himself with small details of anything unrelated to her not to fall before his time.

Yet once the convulsions of her pussy squeezed his cock inside and her mouth, open in front of his to keep kissing and licking him, trapped his tongue fully to stop her loud whimper, he couldn’t stop his own release, moaning her name while his teeth bit down her bottom lip, the heat of the closed room too much, the air, despite the wonderful smell they had left behind, too overwhelming.

He dissipated his clone and grabbed her until the tiefling was stable enough to be able to stand on her own feet, only for her to remain completely naked and move near the table, her hand caressing the wood as if she was searching for something.

His breathing returned to normal Gale grabbed a spare clean cloth from nearby and cleaned his own mess as much as he could, getting distracted by how his fluids were still leaving her cunt slowly, dropping down her leg, the tip of her tail following it, catching his attention. He had been inside of it moments before, nothing else mattered.

He threw the cloth to the side, the floor starting to get gilled with fabrics of all kinds, and followed her playful walk to the table, watching her sit on top of it with a sensual movement of her legs, her hands grabbing the bottle of wine he had left on it when he thought the night would be a lot more boring.

“If I had known the only thing I needed for you to fuck me like that was to get you jealous and drunk I would have done it a long time ago. Hell, I’d probably do it again only to provoke you.”

Bringing two glasses from the cupboard that seemed adequately clean and empty and waiting for her to pour for them he chuckled. He leaned against the table, almost sitting on top but not fully. He was… calmer now, even if he was aware that if he kept looking at her naked body as it was he wouldn’t be for much longer.

“You would, uh? And what if I decide I really don’t want to share you? What if I make you unequivocally mine?”

Ignoring his glasses she moved in front of him, brought a leg beside his ass on the wood and drank from the bottle while some of the drops of the red wine fell to her neck and chest.

“Then you would have made me wait for too long. And you’ll have even more reason not to allow me to go flirting with other people. Wouldn’t you want to punish me? To remind me whose I am, to whom I belong to?”

Yes. He wanted all of it. He wanted to bury himself inside her each time he was feeling jealous, to pin her against the first wall he could find if she looked at someone with interest, to watch as his clones fucked her each time someone even looked at her. He was crazy, but only for her.

His hands moved to cup the cheeks of her ass he licked the drops of wine from her neck and chest and kept playing with it until he twisted her nipple with his tongue, surrounding it, biting it, licking it fully, her breathing starting to come short once again. With a gesture of his tongue after a little pause, he asked her to drop some of the bitter deep hot liquid into his mouth, taking it while she poured directly into it. Before he was able to drink it fully however she stole his lips again and took it, making it disappear before devouring and ravishing the entirety of his mouth.

He grabbed her to change their positions and sat her on top of the table, making space between her legs for his body before he sank into his knees, falling to the floor while allowing the tip of his fingers to caress her inner thigh before making his kisses follow the movement.

“Such a shame to know I have made you wait for me. Do you think I still have time to make it up to you?”

Letting her body fall backwards slightly and gripping Gale’s hair as if she wanted nothing else in the world she spoke, her voice deep and lusted, clouded in heat and arousal, condemning them both.

“Only if we do this a lot from now on. Only if you honor your offer to make me unequivocally yours. Or else I know of some other wizard very interested i-”

She moaned wildly the moment his tongue travelled the entirety of her cunt only to end precisely at her clit, the circular motions pleasurable and distracting, winning him a soft laugh on her part. He didn’t care if she did it only to get a ruse out of him. She was here, asking to be his, after almost forgetting the concept of life while he fucked her. He could live with her provoking him every now and again, he could live with her playing publicly with others only for him to see, if he could steal her at night and make her release the same sounds she was doing with his mouth between her legs.

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howyouloveyourdragon · 2 years

Text

Heartbeat part i

pronouns: she/her warnings: age gap, infidelity? (daemon has left with Nettles but technically not mentioned yet and they're still married so it depends on your definition of cheating and imagination) smut (at end marked with *) summary: The rumble in her heart feels wrong as she stares at the new dragonrider, something she has not felt since she met her husband. She needs to learn whether it is of wariness or besotting. slow-burn wordcount: 3,738 (i warned you it was a big boi) divider: firefly-graphics

Rhaenyra knew many things and one of those things is that she was more than proud with her eldest son's discoveries. There were not especially many but the dragonseeds who had come forward and tamed the wild dragons had been very appreciated. Though this had been a few moons ago that they had announced their presence in her court so why was this brave girl who stood before her with her chin high and dirt splattered across her face. "I hear you are in need of dragon riders." You stated without the formality of addressing a Queen. Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed. You had claimed Grey Ghost from the Red Keep and flown to Dragonstone of your own volition. She knew all of this before your name or motive for approaching her. Had the Greens sent you? Regardless, her guards stay closely circled around you. How curious of you. You sigh. "I am no criminal so if that sword pokes my back one more time–" You growl out in an unfinished threat. Your head cranes to look at the guilty guard who returns your stare with a snarl. "Then speak." Rhaenyra demands, a sense of royalty dripping from her tone. Her voice stands in strength and ease. You turn your head to her with no sense of urgency but rather a candid expression. "I wish to aid you, my Queen." She tenses but only momentarily, the title falls from your lips like a vow and she can't help how goosebumps erupt over her skin at the sharpness of your voice.

"Perhaps you should have come while I was free of riders." She snaps, testing you. Her eyes narrow in careful judgement. You only snort at the declaration. "Perhaps you should remember who I have come from." You return and despite her treatment of you, you stand as though you are regal yourself. Your hair is roped in a single loose braid, you harbour no Valyrian features and yet you speak as though you are The Black Queen yourself, commanding respect. How curious you are indeed. "You are of the Greens?" She asks with a wall built of caution blocking her opinions concerning this fact. You nod stiffly and she glances over the guards before waving her hand in gesture. "Leave us." She orders. The guards blanch and flicker uncertain glances. "Your grace, I do not thi–" "Leave us." She snaps again, this time with a stern stare. The bold guard nods and all turn to bow before reluctantly leaving. "You are a brave little thing, aren't you?" She states as she begins her crisp cautious steps toward you. Her eyes glint in mischief as they venture across you. You stand still as she does so, no remnant of fear in your expression or at least not one she can see. "I believe so." You answer though she can tell you bristled at the word 'little'. "I also believe that we can help each other." Her brows raise in amusement and she almost laughs as her lips curl upward. "Each other?" She asks and you nod. "And what do you search for, young thing?" Again you bristle and again she delights in it. "We both want the same thing. A Targaryen Queen on the throne." She doesn't say anything at first. "Do we not?" "And why is that?" She folds her arms. "Have you not sworn fealty to my brother? Why would I want a traitor in my midst?" You almost roll your eyes at her. "I swore to no one." You retort. "Then what can you offer me?" "The False King's head." Rhaenyra freezes.

"And how would you do that?" "He trusts me, has tried to take me as a lover. So long as you confirm my security as a member of your court, I will return, trick him into security and kill him." "The False King's head." Rhaenyra freezes. "And how would you do that?" "He trusts me, has tried to take me as a lover. So long as you confirm my security as a member of your court, I will return, trick him into security and kill him." Silence enraptures the both of you and yet she can't seem to divert her heavy gaze from your piercing eyes. "Why would they trust you? My brother may be a drunkard but he and his court are not full of fools." "I claimed to be their spy." Your answer is instantaneous, prepared. A strange pride swells in the Queen's chest. "That I would bear you false loyalty and return to them." She eyes you carefully and takes another step closer. "House me for a moon's time and I will deliver the false King's head." "I will..." Rhaenyra hesitates. "consider your offer. For now you may stay in guest chambers until you can be trusted." You huff but agree. You expect her to call in her guards but instead she extends her arm. Your brows furrow and your sights descend on it warily. Her lip curls in amusement. "Take it." She directs and reluctantly you do so. The doors open and close around you and you can feel the critical eyes of the Black court. It's a long walk until you reach your new chambers and you're surprised they're not barred or cells. Rhaenyra tilts her head to a guard who opens the large doors and your eyes widen at the luxury. "You will be staying here until I deem your offer a success. You will be well-cared for." You nod and take in the chambers as she slips from you, taking her warmth with her.

It's late when you join her for dinner, she has likely been held up with her council. You are led to a large dim room with a long wooden table in the centre. Rhaenyra sits at the head and she stands to beckon you at her side. It's late when you join her for dinner, she has likely been held up with her council. "Good eve." She greets. "I had hoped the kitchens would have had the sense to send dinner for you but apparently not." Her voice lowers to a grumble as she seats herself and you nervously follow her example in your own chair. She rests her chin on an enclosed fist and rests her elbow over the table. "They may think me your prisoner." You answer coolly. She squints in question. "I have not left my chambers since I arrived and I have been escorted there by yourself." She hums in understanding and moves her arm once servants begin to laden plates of hot food before you both. "Do you not dine with your children?" You ask warily, aware of how the question comes across. Her gaze snaps to you and she raises her brows. "Not as of late, I have found myself to be quite busy." The minimal conversation comes to an end with your nod then a laugh escapes your plush lips. Her heart thrashes against itself as her eyes focus on you. "I suppose that makes sense." Your eyes meet as you flicker your gaze up to her and a quick laugh parts both your lips simultaneously to ease your shoulders. Tension leaves with the motion and again Rhaenyra's heart clenches.

For a brief moment her gentle eyes flicker over your face but just as easily as the flame of an idea erupts, it's extinguished. You both turn to your food and lift your forks in-sync. "Are you enjoying your stay?" She asks then mentally scolds herself. "Your chambers must be quite different than you're used to." You nod and hum. "I suppose I've never really stayed anywhere long enough to enjoy it but I'd like to see the Dragon's Trail and Aegon's garden." Her brows raise in surprise. "I could show you, if you'd like." Rhaenyra's soft voice suggests, shooting tingles along your already present goosebumps. "It's rather lovely." "I'd like that." You respond, lips curling. She nods and the dinner presumes in a majority of silence. Once she's finished, she surprisingly waits for you. "I will escort you to your chambers." She states and again you nod, letting her lead you through the lengthy halls. Her guards follow behind you both but it still feels intimate with her arm wrapped in yours.

"I think we will move forward with your plan." She announces. You frown and look at her. "I was expecting for you to need more time." "Do you want me to take more time?" Her tone is threatening but her smile betrays her. "No!" "Then it's settled." You reach your doors and both your hands glide into each other's. "I will leave you to rest and retrieve you in the morning for the gardens." You bite your lip and your eyes flicker in mischief. "Will you not have any council meeting, my Queen?" She ignores how her heart quickens at the remark. "I believe they are quite capable of waiting." She returns, stepping closer. Heat emanates between you, slowly building to a sparking flash of hidden emotion but just when she's about to close in, you step back and unleash one hand to open the door. "I'll see you then, my Queen." Her eyes flutter shut at the title and there's so much burning attraction spitting to claw up her throat that she doesn't notice at first when you slip away from her. When her eyes open, she grins and shakes her head at the closed door, gently running a hand along it as she murmurs in High Valyrian.

The next morning, Rhaenyra stays true to her word and collects you for a walk in the gardens. She elected handmaidens to prepare you that morning and it doesn't slip your notice that the dress she has laid out for you is as black as coal and as beautiful as something she herself would wear. It was fit for The Black Queen. Your fingers trail the large arch you walk through as she spreads tales of how, when and why it was built. "What do you think of it, your grace?" You ask once she has paused. Her head turns to you as she thinks. "I think it is almost as beautiful as you are." She comments cheekily and you chuckle. "I liked it on the rare times I could visit Dragonstone as a child well." You hum. "Yes, I remember how I used to dream about what it would look like." you utter, taking in every new sight as if it were your first. "I was born in Dragonstone myself." Rhaenyra nods with a smile. "You continue to surprise me, my lady." "I am no lady." You quip with a lazy grin of your own. "No but you will be once I've retrieved my crown." Your brows shoot up. She looks over you from head to toe. "You should not be surprised that I will reward your valiant efforts." "I admit I have not heard of your...generosity." "Ah yes," She looks down. "They call me 'Maegor with teats' now don't they? I suppose it is well deserved." "They have never had to fight for their own rightful crown." You retort, spinning in front of her and taking her hands in your own. You remove one so that you may caress her cheek gently. She melts into it without thinking, without her shield. "You are much stronger than any of them and they are foolish to cast ridicule on those who have fought tooth and nail for their very being." Her breathing stutters at the passion behind your teeth. Rhaenyra collects herself with a deep breath and nods, you continue your walk but as you pass an array of wild roses she plucks one and extends it to you. "My lady," She teases and you roll your eyes at the sweet gesture. "Whatever would I do without you?" You ask and she bites back a snide remark. She's impulse but even knows what is too far. "It is almost as beautiful as you are." You respond with a wink, referencing her own words back to her. She gasps and chuckles.

"I am looking forward to having you at my side. Perhaps a royal advisor." She suggests. "I would be honoured but let us not get ahead of ourselves." Your chest constricts and you stiffen. "After I kill the King, I may not be able to return to you which is why you should keep close with Syrax before news breaks out." Her brows furrow. "Whyever should you not return to me?" "The Green Queen does not trust me very well and so I doubt she will leave him unprotected at any time unless we..." You swallow. "join with one another." She almost shivers in discomfort at the word but settles for wrinkling her nose. "Ah." "But I do not wish to give him my maidenhead." Her eyes widen. "You mean that you are...?" "Yes." She nods slowly. "I see well, we will take every precaution to ensure your safety." Rhaenyra turns your face to her again and her warm smile soothes your tense muscles. You return a gentle nod and continue walking together.

*The moon comes to pass much quicker than you imagined and you currently sit anxiously on your bed. You have a big decision to make that will undoubtedly change your fate forever. Next eve you will be back in the Red Keep and surrounded by vipers and vultures watching your every move. Your thoughts are halted quickly when a resounding composed knock raps at your door. You stand in reflex as it opens and reveals your Queen, long snow hair tumbling down her face in soft waves and her body wrapped in a nightgown as red as blood. Your eyes meet but neither of you stand rigid. She clears her throat. "My lady Y/n." She murmurs but stays still. You bow your head for a mere moment. "My Queen." Your throat goes dry. "Your Rhaenyra." She corrects softly, as quick as you can take the change, her hands are grasping at your sides and her lips embrace yours. You gasp and she takes the opportunity to probe you with her tongue gently. Before she pulls away, she captures your lower lip in a light tug between her teeth. "I may not seem as patient as I appear." Her voice is more mellifluous than you have ever heard it. Your fingers roam to her hair and play with it. She flutters her eyes shut. "I know what I want. Do you?" Her murmuring voice shoots direct and firm but not forceful as her grip loosens. You nod. "Say it." "I want you." Just as quickly as the words leave your lips, she pounces on you. You stumble back against the bed and whine quietly against her. Her left hand skips upward to curve around your breast and she plucks gently at your nipple as though your body were an instrument for her to attract your song. You don't disappoint, a breathy moan escaping you as Rhaenyra begins to unlace your dress with quick fervour. She begins threading kisses along your cheek and down your neck. "He doesn't deserve you." She utters against your skin, trickling into the crevice of your newly released breasts. "He never will."

Rhaenyra's warm wet kisses continue until they reach your stomach, Your breath hitches. "Please." You whisper, barely aware of what you are asking for as a soft pink haze clouds your vision and inhibitions. "What's my name?" She asks, hot breath cloaking the place you most desperately need her, the place no one except yourself buried in duvets and the dark night has touched. "Rhaenyra." You finally sound and her lips descend on you, her tongue flicking out to taste your growing moisture, drinking it in like an elixir. "Sweet girl, you've been waiting for me." You whine and she smirks, you can feel the twitch in her lips which send a jolt through you. At your motion, she giggles girlishly and pets at your thigh. "Don't worry, darling, I'm here to take care of you now." You hiss once her lips close in on your plush pink pearl, sucking it into her mouth greedily. The Queen feels as if she has been deprived of drink as she tips her mouth to dip her tongue in your slit. She groans at the soft moan you emit. Rhaenyra's hands enclose around your hips and hold you against the mattress as her tongue experiments–it has been a long time since she has been so intimate with another woman. Goosebumps erupt over your skin, hot air encases you and sweat pools at your brow all the while her tongue thrusts, thrusts, thrusts into you. Pleasure ensnares you like her sweetest prey, her lady trembling with ecstasy beneath her. Your mind runs rampant with every word–every endearment–she has ever spoken to you. Your dew floats in her mouth like the most delightful nectar and she thinks for a moment perhaps you aren't needed in any harms way, maybe she can keep you for herself and find another way to take back her throne but you both know this is the only way such an event will occur. So you enjoy your last night together.

"Eventually your high shoots through the glass barrier it has been pushing against and you cum onto her tongue with a guttural moan. You sink into the mattress which is growing damp with your pleasure. Your breath rises in shaky bursts while she sweeps her mouth over your sensitive bud. You whimper to which she chuckles and tuts. "Do not worry, sweet girl." She looks up at you, face softening. "I am here for you tonight, you needn't cower." Then she drags a lithe finger to your weeping cunt. "Do you not want more, dōna riña?" She teases you gently and you jump at the contact. She laughs again but not out of malice. She rises to her elbows and towers over you. "I think you should understand how perfect you are, darling." You notice her hand hovers over your mouth. "Will you please your Queen?" She purrs like a proud feline at you. You nod and instantly she peels apart your lips to submerge her finger in your warm mouth. Her eyes are as half-lidded as a crescent moon. She praises you by humming. "I knew you'd be good for me." Your own tongue flitters over the finger, swirling to clean it, to taste yourself on her. "Eventually your high shoots through the glass barrier it has been pushing against and you cum onto her tongue with a guttural moan. You sink into the mattress which is growing damp with your pleasure. Your breath rises in shaky bursts while she sweeps her mouth over your sensitive bud. You whimper to which she chuckles and tuts. "Do not worry, sweet girl." She looks up at you, face softening. "I am here for you tonight, you needn't cower." Then she drags a lithe finger to your weeping cunt. "Do you not want more, dōna riña?" (sweet girl) She teases you gently and you jump at the contact. She laughs again but not out of malice. She rises to her elbows and towers over you. "I think you should understand how perfect you are, darling." You notice her hand hovers over your mouth. "Will you please your Queen?" She purrs like a proud feline at you. You nod and instantly she peels apart your lips to submerge her finger in your warm mouth. Her eyes are as half-lidded as a crescent moon. She praises you by humming. "I knew you'd be good for me." Your own tongue flitters over the finger, swirling to clean it, to taste yourself on her.

"I want you to remember this when you go tomorrow. I want you to remember your Queen." Her firm voice rumbles in your ear as he leans even closer before popping her finger out of your mouth and drifting it onto your hardened nipple. She tweaks and plays with it, rolling it through her fingertips regardless of how you throw your head back and whine. Her lips press long kisses to your cheeks but once more her finger presses to the pearl of your pleasure. "Relax, my wild one." The finger then curls itself into your opening and probes deep. You hiss but at the sound she stops and slowly retracts and pushes in again in a slow rhythm. She hushes you softly and kisses your lips and it's only then that you notice she has already discarded her nightgown, our own breasts pressing to yours. Her heart beats rapidly against you when she introduces a second finger. Your breath freezes and your eyes close tightly. Her thumb rubs gentle circles atop your clit. "Aw," She coaxes. "my beautiful dragon. My pretty pretty dragon." She glides her body back down to your slit and marvels at you. Her tongue darts out to flick over your sensitive bud and she sends a course of vibrations through you in a moan. She pulls back from tasting you, head tipped up so her dilated pupils can connect with your face. Your body jolts upward as she continues to pump her fingers. "Are you going to cum, my sweet dragon? Will you cum for your Queen?" Gentle whimpers tumble from your mouth like prayers as you babble agreements. "Yes." You breathe. "Oh yes, please." "Then cum, ñuha dōna zaldrīzes." (my sweet dragon). You moan as you clench around her, your hand bunching the sheets beneath you. Her tongue circles your bud and when you finally release in a sharp inhale of air, her tongue eagerly slips inside you to drink every inch of your wetness. Slowly as you flood down from your high, her fingers leave you so she can swallow all of you down and when she's sated, she grins and pushes her fingers onto her tongue. Her fingers leave with a pop and she slithers up to your side. Rhaenyra moulds you to lay around her, tugging your arm to land across her stomach while she strokes your hair. She hums an ancient tune and kisses your temple. "You're so perfect for me, dōna zaldrīzes." Her lips smile softly. "You are going to be a darling consort, I promise you." You float away into sleep to the sound of her heartbeat.

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azeretha · 1 year

Text

In the middle of the night

Word count: 1368

He didn't know how to proceed. It was already night and he had been staring at papers and evidence for several hours. It was already painful to hold his wings upright. His mate was sleeping in the next room and all he wanted to do was go lay down next to her and cuddle with her. Or maybe he would wake her up the way she likes. Gods, there were so many things he would rather be doing than what he was doing now.

"Why are not you sleeping?" he turned his head and saw his intelligent, brave, clever and of course beautiful mate standing and leaning against the door frame. Her beautiful long hair was in a bun and she also had a headband that kept all her hair out of her face. Her eyes watched him with a reprimanding look and her body. That body. Her arms were crossed and her fingernails were painted with dark blue nail polish, one of her small signs of rebellion against society and the dress code. She was wearing his black sleeping tunic and loose pants.

"All the clothes you're wearing right now are mine," he said with one corner of his lips up.

She rolled her eyes. How he adored it when she did it. "Since my dear friend prefers to spend his time with peppers, I have to find something that will hug me at least a little while I sleep," he just spread his arms in response and his companion made her way to him.

She sat on his lap and he wrapped his huge arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. She smelled like lavender. "I'm sorry, beautiful. I just don't know how to move forward in this case. It doesn't make sense," she looked into his eyes. He showed her everything in them. Fatigue, what he felt for her and also where he would rather be. Sighing, she looked back at the papers.

"So what do we know?"

"We know?" he asked. He loved it when she said that. They were a team and they were equal.

And so he began to explain everything to her. Who. Why. What he figured out and what he didn't understand. During that time, she listened and made them coffee.

They spent hours on it. Papers were everywhere. On the couch. On the table. Even on the walls. The whole room turned into a research zone.

"It's the wife!" his chosen one screamed.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "How did you find out?"

She started to explain to him how she came up with it. She was running around the room and he was listening and watching her. When she finished, she turned to him and waited for his reaction.

He watched her in dumb amazement and didn't know which part of her to focus on "Why are wives so clever?"

"Because our partners will search us," she replied confidently.

"Because our husbands don't pay attention to us," she answered confidently.

Azriel stood up with all his confidence and arrogance. He approached her thoughtfully until he came to her. She didn't back down. She never backed down. “This husband and mate don't. This one admires his wife and mate and will adore her more than she can handle.”

She took a step closer to him and looked confidently into his eyes. "She can handle a lot. More than he could possibly imagine."

He took the headband off her head and let down her beautiful hair. He put them away from her right shoulder and whispered in her ear “Many people have told him that he has a great imagination. And also that he is very creative," he rolled up his tunic with his hands and pulled her close.

"Does he have any references? ,” her voice cracked. He kept hugging her hips with his hands and slowly kissed her neck.

He rolled up the tunic slowly but surely. He moved tunic from her hips to her waist until it reached the sides of her breasts. "Beauty raise your hands," she raised. The tunic fell to the ground. He looked at the woman he belonged to. Her head was proudly held high and her chin up. The long neck was a huge attraction for him. He spent hours there, hidden from the world. And then the breasts. Flat stomach and hips on which his pants barely held. He went back to those eyes. They stood there now facing each other like two rivals. Both of them were naked from the waist up and neither of them moved. They were both more than competitive.

"Together?" she asked him in that husky voice.

At the same moment, they rushed towards each other. They kissed as if they hadn't seen each other for months. Azriel picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was holding her back and she was focusing on his neck. She was leaving marks that he belonged only to her and he adored it.

Slowly and as gently as he could, he laid her down on the carpet. "What reward does my wife want for being so intelligent?"She started pulling his pants down with her feet. "I understand." He watched her all the time and made sure to be attentive.

When he opened his eyes, he was instantly blinded by the light. At that moment, his brain started receiving stimuli. Undrawn curtains. His mate lying next to him with her bare back and hair in all directions. She was breathing calmly, which symbolized that she was still asleep. And pounding on the door. Who would… Cassian. Training. He is going to kill him.

He stood up and couldn't find his pants. And so, out of the decency that he managed to muster, he took the blanket that was thrown over the chair and wrapped it around his waist. The closer he got to the door, the more he wanted to kill his brother and make sure his body would never be found again. However, he would not want to face Nesta, so he threw this idea into the trash in his mind. He opened the door and there he stood before him. "What do you want?"

"Why didn't you come to training?" direct question.

"Because I was asleep," direct answer.

"That's what I thought when I look at you now. And why did you fall asleep?" he would like to knock that crooked smile off his face if his wife did not appear before him.

"What you want?" she looked more bored than when he once took her to practice. Right after the training, she declared to him that her weapon will remain her brain and the ability to smile at people she would rather throw into the nearest lake.

"Your dear, he didn't come to training so I came to make sure he's alright. And it looks like he is,” Azriel's thoughts about his brother's death drifted back to the main goals of the day.

His dear took a long breath and kept staring at Cassian “And?”

"And? Do you know what will happen to his body?” Cassian and his bullshit.

She looked at Azriel and he wrapped an arm around her waist in support. "Not much. But you will definitely be happy to tell me."

Cassian started throwing his arms around and she just watched him. "His body…"

"I'll stop you here. The body we're talking about and can look at is in perfect shape and it's partly thanks to me. So now this is what happens. I'll slam the door on your face and then I and my mate will be locked in this apartment for several hours. Maybe days. And this," she gave him all the documents for the work we did during the night. "You can take it to your friend Rhysand when you're so active. We will be very grateful to you. And now excuse us," she slammed the door in his face as she promised and turned back to her lover.

He gave her a proud smile. "Bed or carpet?"

"The wall."

Gods, how he loved her.

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #fanfic

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possibilistfanfiction · 9 months

Note

I loved the little Detail where Ava wears a strap in footy!Au so my prompt is just any AU but Ava wears a strap (you can decide if its smutty or silly lol)

‘just because i struggled to accept my sexuality doesn’t mean i’m not open to…’

you wait for a moment, raising a brow when she doesn’t continue.

‘toys?’ you offer when it’s clear from her deepening blush she’s definitely bluffing.

‘yes,’ she says, trying to act very sure and certain, and truly you are god’s strongest soldier for not laughing at her, which would be both unkind and also detrimental to your mission. and, sure, you’ve died a few times, whatever, and won a holy war a few months ago, but there is, at the moment, no task more important to you than getting bea to finally go to the sex store with you. you’d talked about it in couples counseling for weeks now and you really, genuinely can’t stop thinking about how hot the potential is. whenever bea has been out you’ve taken care of those thoughts yourself, but sometimes you just stare at her hands while she does the most mundane tasks and feel like you’re about to explode.

‘sooooooo, we can go? now? like you said?’

she rolls her eyes but you’re unfazed. yes, ava, we can go.’

‘fuck yeah!’ you gather all of the things you might need — phone, wallet, sunglasses, backup pair of sunglasses, a little crystal someone on the venice boardwalk gave you — into your purse and grab your cane; beatrice neatly tucks her wallet into one back pocket, her phone in the other. her bun is perfect and, while her button up is slouchy and oversized, it is tucked impeccably into her slacks. you’re so, so fond of her you have to kiss her, and you feel her smile back.

she’d made you research which sex stores are queer-friendly, and even, if you were lucky, queer-centric, and you were relieved to find one not too far away. she’s turning red before she even parallel parks a few stores down from it, her neck flushing, and sometimes you forget the shame she’s felt around want. you’ve felt shame; you were intimate with it for a long, long time, a bedfellow you could never move away from, but never for this.

‘hey,’ you say, as soft as you can while you’re so excited, ‘if you feel overwhelmed, we can totally leave. there’s ice cream, like, right there.’ you point across the street. ‘and you know i’m always happy to have ice cream.’

she takes a deep breath, as brave as always, braver by the day. ‘while i appreciate the sentiment, and trust that you do love ice cream, i — i would like to try this with you, ava.’

she’s so sincere you might cry, but you shake it off and nod. ‘okay. okay! let’s do it. if you feel weird, do you want a safeword.’

‘for a sex store?’

you laugh, shrug. ‘i mean, they support it.’

she smiles, clearly amused, and squeezes your hand, then gets out of the car to open your door, chivalrous as always. ‘i’ll be okay. thank you though.’

‘sure thing. kumquat, though, if you do need one.’

she laughs.

‘okay,’ you say, ‘ready?’

you wait for her quiet but confident yes and then walk out of your closet. beatrice had been the picture of casual composure in the sex store while you excitedly looked at everything, and had nodded when you decided on the strap and harness you liked best — with the help of a very cool employee who seemed to find bea’s blush very endearing, understandably so, and was kind and patient answering all of your questions — but now, when you walk out of your bathroom, her eyes widen and she worries her bottom lip in a way that makes you feel absolutely insane.

‘oh,’ she breathes, lying on her back on your big bed in just a pair of practical black boxers, her hair loose around her on the pillows.

‘yeah?’

you crawl over to her, on top of her, so the strap just barely pushes against her, and you can feel her tremble beneath you, trying to keep all that desire inside. it’s the second most intoxicating thing you’ve ever felt. she touches your hip, then the leather of the harness, then the silicone of the ribbed dildo — a very nice teal, if you do so say yourself — you picked out. ‘i — wow,’ she breathes.

you smile into her neck, follow it with a kiss. ‘let’s get this show on the road, then.’

‘ava.’

you push up a little so you can see her face; she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear sweetly. ‘sorry. i’m just really excited to fuck you.’

that gets her to take in a shaky breath and pull you down so your bodies are flush. and, like, you’ve been to a lot of different realms, seen a lot of holy shit, but nothing really compares to the expression on beatrice’s face when you, very carefully — after going down on her first, thank you very much, and then making sure to coat the dildo with lube — push into her. she clutches so hard to your shoulder blades you’re a little worried but then she moans, obscenely, by her standards, and breathes out a pained, desperate, ‘keep going.’

it’s, like, the best fucking thing, oh my god, and, afterward, you take the harness off and drop it unceremoniously on the floor next to the bed, then she curls up by your side, rests her head on your chest. you run your hands through her hair, sleepy and soothed, even though it’s definitely not late enough to really sleep.

‘thank you,’ she says.

it’s sweet and so genuine; you smile to yourself and bend to kiss her forehead. ‘for railing you with a strap? my pleasure.’

you can sense her roll her eyes, even if you can’t see them. ‘for… i don’t know,’ she says, and you just wait patiently for her to gather her thoughts. ‘for helping me enjoy being myself.’

and, oh. ‘of course; it’s my favorite thing in the whole universe,’ you tell her. ‘and if it involves that, count me in, quite literally any time.’

her laugh is bright, happy, unafraid.

#prompts #avatrice fanfic #avatrice #wn #wn fic #silly little one for ya #butch bea 🥺🫡

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wcsternnights · 10 months

Text

✦ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲.

✦ ࣪ ˖ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 , 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

✦ ࣪ ˖ the house was loud. the house was loud and reeked of alcohol. influencer partied were always a fun experience, but there was nothing enjoyable about the morning after.

arabella perez wandered through the borderline mansion with a half empty cup of beer. she no longer knew which drink she was on, she supposed she would find out tomorrow based on the intensity of her headache.

matt sturniolo was also in the house. hiding somewhere in a corner, sipping away at a beverage of some sort and judging everyone as they went past in their drunken states. he was the designated driver for every party that he and his triplet brothers attended, due to his strong distaste for alcohol.

“oh my god will you stop and let me win!” arabella yelled, glaring at the boy on the opposite side of the table. she held a yellow ping pong ball in her hand and squinted her eyes as she focused on the multiple solo cups two metres away from her.

matt was startled by the sound of her voice and he found himself walking over to the table, though he knew better, arabella perez was undeniable.

arabella threw the ball forwards and it splashed into a cup of vodka and a red juice, making her cheer. “suck on that, larry!”

matt grinned at her joy, and joined her side. “good job.” he whispered in her ear.

she jumped at the sudden company and turned to face him. her face fell slightly but she managed to recover, the confidence of alcohol persuading her brain to stop messing about. “hey matt.”

“ha! bella you gotta drink again!” larry mocked.

while arabella was ‘talking’ to matt, larry had thrown his ball into a cup, scoring her another three chugs of beer.

“i’ll take them.” matt shrugged, knocking the drink back and trying not to cringe at the strong taste.

“you never drink.” arabella said, looking at him weirdly.

“well, i thought i’d save you a rough morning.” matt grinned, downing another beer and putting on a brave face.

“one more, sturniolo.” a random influencer cheered, handing him the last cup. matt sighed and chugged it, wanting claps and applause from everyone around him.

“you’re gonna be so gone tomorrow.” arabella snorted, rolling her eyes.

“wanna go upstairs?” matt smirked.

well, shit, alcohol worked fast in his system.

arabella paused to weigh up her options, and then decided that she wasn’t going to remember the night at all in the morning and agreed to follow.

the ex couple walked up the stairs, their hands loosely in each others, and found an empty room (after accidentally walking in on a one night stand).

“i missed you.” matt immediately said, cupping hee cheek and bringing her in for a kiss.

their lips moved against each others and arabella quickly pulled away. “fuck, matt, i missed you too.”

matt tapped the back of her legs and she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and allowing him to gently place her back on the bed, not breaking the kiss.

his hands dragged up and down her sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps as they went. arabella gripped his hair tightly, pulling him closer than ever. matt groaned into her mouth, remembering her touch just as it had been a couple years ago.

he reached around to the back of her neck, untying the string that held her shirt in a halter neck. with a bit of effort, they pulled the right fabric over arabella’s head and discarded it onto the floor, before doing the same with his.

“wait, matt—“ arabella halted, placing her hand on his chest.

“what? what’s wrong?” he stopped, resting on his hands and leaning back. “you okay?”

“yeah… it’s just…” arabella bit down on her bottom lip before shaking it off. “never mind.” and their lips were hungrily clashing once again.

the rest of the night went by in a pleasurable blur, and the morning light seemed to wake arabella up.

she found herself still in the same bed as last night, this time being wrapped in the silk covers that covered her bare body. she felt a presence next to her. turning her head to the side, she was met with the form of her slightly-awake ex-boyfriend. he was still shirtless as well.

that confirmed everything. last night hadn’t been a dream.

“morning, beautiful.” matt smiled, dragging his fingers across her cheek lazily but lovingly.

arabella awkwardly smiled and sat up, using the silk covers to hide her boobs from his view. sure, he’d seen them before, and last night, but now she was sober. sober and regretful.

“i don’t know why you’re hiding, it’s nothing i haven’t seen before.” matt cockily smirked, sitting up on his elbows and watching her like a hawk.

she ignored him and the pounding headache and searched for her clothes on the floor, slowly slipping on her underwear.

“you know i um— i really enjoyed last night… bels.” matt said, this time his tone was thoughtful and delicate. “and i’m not just saying it because we had sex but… i genuinely remember just being happy with you. spending time with you.”

“yeah, i um… i gotta go, matt, i’ve got content to film and shit.” arabella reminded, her mind floating off momentarily at the nickname. bels. she hadn’t heard it since… well since they broke up.

“you wanna… get together? go for a coffee? whenever your free.” matt offered.

“no, matt.” arabella sighed, standing up and pinching her nose bridge. “i’m not doing this. not with you. not now. not ever.”

“what?” what? why?” matt asked, desperately. he stood up and slipped on his boxers and jeans, approaching arabella with a saddened face.

“matt, i can’t. i cant forget everything that happened. everything that you did.” arabella shook her head.

“i was young! i was dumb! i wasn’t thinking properly and i’m sorry, bels. i really am. i’ve said it so many times but you don’t understand!” matt exclaimed.

“you slept with my best friend.” arabella stated, picking up his shirt and throwing it at him. “you fucked my best friend and expected me to still want to be with you. put your fucking shirt on.”

matt quickly shrugged his shirt over his head and stepped forwards, holding her cheeks in his hands. “baby, i changed. i swear on it. i was dumb and stupid and horny and i wasn’t thinking about you or the consequences of my actions.”

they stood in silence for a moment before arabella looked up at him with teary eyes. “why’d you do it, matt? why’d you have to fuck everything up? i loved you. and you claimed to love me too, but clearly you didn’t.”

“no, i did. i loved you so much. but i got scared. i got scared that you didn’t love me the same amount. so i spoke to her. it wasn’t meant to be like that but it just happened, bels. and i’ve regretted it everyday since then. i haven’t stopped thinking about you. i wanted to get into contact with you, but nick told me not to be stupid.”

arabella snorted at the thought and cracked a small smile, which gave matt a slither of hope.

“oh, arabella. i’m so sorry.” he frowned, stroking his thumbs across hee cheeks bones. “please take me back. i’m so sorry. so sorry. i need you, bels. you make me, me. i’ll do anything to have you back.”

he dropped to his knees before her, holding her hands and rested his forehead against her stomach.

arabella sighed and nodded slowly, untangling one of her hands and placing it in his hair, playing with it. “okay, matt. okay.”

he slowly climbed back to his feet, almost in disbelief. he placed one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck, pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

she quickly pulled back and placed a hand on his chest. “but, you have to promise me that i’m your girl. your only girl. no one else. ever.”

matt nodded eagerly, listening to every word she was saying, soaking it up. “of course, my girl. your mine and i’m yours, bels i wouldn’t want it any different.”

arabella reached up and kissed him, revelling in the idea of matt being hers once again. she was praying desperately that history wouldn’t repeat itself, and likes to think that matt wasn’t lying. he had chnaged, and he was a better person now.

“arabella. my fucking girl.”

a/n

OBVIOUSLY this isn’t necessarily realistic. but it’s matt sturniolo so i would take him back if he asked once, let alone begged on his knees.

arabella is the oc from my wattpad fanfic of matt LOL. i just really like the name and i prefer using an oc then y/n cuz we all hate that bitch.

#matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut

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octoberbluegates-eng · 3 months

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The flower crown and the seven rusalki

A slavic-inspired summer solstice fairytale

Once upon a time there was a small, peaceful kingdom in Eastern Europe, ruled by a king and a queen who were beloved by their people, as were their children. Their youngest daughter was named Lukne, and everyone agreed that she was the most pleasant of all. Each time she would attend a royal event, guests were charmed by her pretty face, welcoming manners, and modesty.

Lukne was happy. She was educated, cherished, and as a last-born, she was given unusual freedom for her station. Yet she only used this freedom for one thing. Every occasion she got, she would leave through the backdoor, cross the line of trees bordering the vegetable garden, and sit right above the river flowing behind the royal palace.

She could spend hours there. She would bring her toys, watch the bugs, and also swim when it was warm enough. The stream, birds, wind, and sun sang for her a melody more beautiful than anything else. No place in the world could give her more pleasure.

She had tried talking about it to her mother, to her father; she had brought her sisters and brothers; but nobody could really understand what she felt for this tiny patch of grass and water. She could not explain it herself because she couldn’t understand why her family didn’t see it. Therefore, Lukne remained happy, but lonely. She believed it was a lesser inconvenience.

In the spring of her thirteenth year, the young princess was, as usual, lying in the grass by the river. She was reading over the day’s lessons when she heard a high-pitched squeal. She looked up and saw, in the river, a young squirrel being carried away by the stream.

With no hesitation, Lukne stood and jumped to its aid. She gasped when she felt the icy water under her clothes but wasted no time and started swimming vigorously. With significant efforts, she was able to catch the tiny creature who stopped screaming.

When she managed to reach the bank and climb out of the water, Lukne suddenly realized that the squirrel she had been holding in her hand was gone. She jumped on her feet and looked around, fearing that it might have fallen back into the river. She startled when she saw, instead, seven young girls looking at her, standing in the shallow part of the stream.

They were all incredibly beautiful. Their long, loose, wet hair shone like waves in the sunset; they were nude, and their skin was as smooth as the rocks that had been polished by erosion; their smiles were warm, and their eyes were full of mischief.

“You were so brave!” said the shortest one. “You could have drowned in such a heavy dress.”

“It isn’t that heavy, I am a good swimmer,” Lukne assured. “Besides, I wasn’t about to let that poor squirrel die.”

The girls laughed maliciously at her answer and shared a few glances. “My name is Rasa,” the small one continued, then she pointed at her companions, one by one. “And this is Leili, Migle, Alma, Endla, Laine and Virve.”

The princess nodded at each of them in greeting and introduced herself as well.

“We know who you are, good princess,” said Rasa. “We have been watching you for a long time and we would like to get to know you better, because we love this place, just like you do. Would you be our friend?”

Lukne agreed, thereby she was not alone anymore when she went down to the river, because her new friends would be waiting for her there the entire warm season. They would spend most of their time in the water without a care in the world, and watch Lukne with interest when she remained on the shore. The princess felt, for some time, that the girls were toying with her, as she was a stranger to their group, but as months went by, this feeling slowly subsided.

Lukne was one of them. She would play, swim, run, dance, and sing with them. Laine and Virve would teach her how to imitate birds and frogs. Alma was the most energetic and ran more often than she walked, although the quiet Endla always managed to appease her outbursts. Leili and Migle kept diving into the water from atop the trees and they were so light and agile that they could climb them without even a scrape. As for Rasa, she was an affectionate chatterbox, always clinging to someone.

But most of all, they all felt for each other an affection which Lukne was soon entwined in. First there were compliments, calm and peaceful moments, then presents, small things they had found. In the autumn, when the weather got too cold, the girls would say their goodbyes to their princess with heartbreaking embraces, and would not come back until spring, with more tender reunions each year. During the long winter months, Lukne would look at the frozen river from her bedroom window and miss her dear companions terribly.

Lukne grew and soon became of age to marry. You should know that in this kingdom, young people followed a tradition on the night of the summer solstice, which they call Kupala night. Young girls would, during the day, make a crown out of freshly picked flowers. They could use any type of flower, and braid them together any way they wanted. They could even decorate them with candles or ribbons. Then, at sunset, they would walk up the river and put their crowns in the water.

The slow, steady current would then gently carry the crowns downstream, to the waiting suitors. They had to find, among all the crowns, the one made by the woman of their heart. Should they succeed, they could meet with their beloved’s family and ask for her hand in marriage, for it was said that wearing this crown undamaged proved that the couple was blessed by the goddess of love.

The people were ecstatic when the king declared that he would marry Lukne, his youngest daughter, to whoever would come to the palace on Kupala morning, wearing the crown made by the princess. Therefore, any citizen in the land had a chance to marry her.

Lukne did not really care about marriage yet. She was even almost surprised when Rasa asked her, in the autumn, on the day they had to leave, if she would marry soon.

“I hope not,” Lukne admitted. “Should I marry, I would have to go live with my husband. I am so happy with you, I don’t want to imagine living elsewhere.”

“You could marry a young king who would make you his queen, or a rich noble who would cover you with gifts, or even an honest man madly in love with you.”

“But I don’t know anyone who makes me happier than you do.”

The seven young girls then smiled fiercely, and Lukne would have been scared if she did not love them so much. Endla approached and handed her a small pouch.

“It’s a present from all of us,” Rasa explained. “They are seeds. If you love us, plant them in your bedroom, in a tub of dirt taken from the river. They won’t wilt from the cold, or the shade, but water them daily and speak to them before going to bed.”

Lukne took the small pouch, and the very next day, she got to work. She used a shovel to fill a large tub she had asked the servants for with silt and loam. Two stableboys helped her carry the heavy result into her bedroom and place it close to her bed. She then planted the seven seeds the pouch contained.

Every day, as autumn and winter went by, she took care of watering and speaking to the plants which quickly sprouted from the earth. Each time she told them a few kind words before bed, she would think of her seven dear friends, and smile, remembering that they would meet again soon.

When spring came again, the seven plants all carried huge, colorful buds which Lukne was excited to see bloom. Her companions congratulated her for taking such good care of their present. Spring went by in carefree joy, and a few days before Kupala, the flowers bloomed wide open. Lukne was blown away with surprise and wonder when she found, in the heart of each of them, huge gemstones, more beautiful and pure than any she had ever seen in her regal life.

“Indeed, they are magic flowers,” Rasa said amusedly when Lukne told them what had happened. “On Kupala eve, you will cut them to make your crown.”

Lukne followed her advice. When the day came, she took scissors and cut the flowers with their stems, then she walked down to the river to braid them by the water. The seven girls had stopped playing and approached to watch her.

“Aren’t you making any?” Lukne asked, laughing at their fascinated faces.

“We don’t need to.”

“We never did,” Virve admitted.

“It’s a lot of fun, I assure you!”

So, Leili and Migle jumped off their branches, Laine and Virve took rocks as their seats, Endla sat in the grass with Rasa, and Alma ran back with an armful of flowers she had just picked. Lukne spent the day showing them how she liked to make her crowns.

At nightfall, Lukne said goodbye to her companions. She walked upriver, her beautiful magic flower crown on her head. Then, when she was alone, she took it off and gently placed it on the water. The crown floated for a few seconds but, weighted down by the gemstones, it quickly sank under the dark surface.

Lukne smiled. What a good idea her friends had. Nobody would be able to find her crown now. She went back to the palace gardens where the Kupala bonfire had been lit, and she enjoyed the celebration without any more worries.

The next morning, a line of suitors was waiting at the palace doors. The king received them one by one, accompanied by Lukne who he would ask each time if the presented crown was hers. But each time, Lukne assured it was not, and the suitor sheepishly left.

The king was surprised, when they were all turned down, that none of them had found the right crown. He asked Lukne if she had indeed made one.

“Of course!” Lukne assured. “I made it from the flowers I grew in my bedroom. You can check if you don’t believe me!”

The king just smiled and held his daughter close. “I won’t insult you by doubting your words. However, I do hope next year will be the charm.”

For seven years, Lukne played the same trick on him. The plants she had grown were perennial and always bloomed again shortly before the summer solstice. Lukne took great care of them, and it was a pleasure for her to make her crown, surrounded by the seven girls from the river. Then, the crown would sink, and Lukne was free another year.

The seventh Kupala morning, however, was a complete surprise for the king, for Lukne, and for the entire court, when Rasa, Leili, Migle, Alma, Endla, Laine and Virve came to the palace. They were still nude, unfazed, and each of them wore on their head one of the crowns Lukne had made.

“Your majesty,” Rasa said, always her companions’ spokeswoman. “We have come to ask you for your daughter Lukne’s hand in marriage.”

The king needed several seconds to recover from the surprise, his gaze going from the seven girls to Lukne whose eyes now shone with joy. “This is rather unusual, but so be it. My child, is one of those ladies wearing your crown?”

“They all are,” Lukne revealed. “Each crown I made in the past seven years.”

“All of them?!” the king exclaimed, taking a closer look at the crowns. “But they are all as fresh as if you had made them yesterday!”

Realizing that something was not normal, the king signaled the royal wizard. Said wizard had not stopped staring at the seven girls since they had entered. He muttered a spell under his breath, and immediately, the seven girls’ appearance changed. They seemed even more beautiful, and yet their faces were different, strange and unhuman. Their thick hair seemed to lengthen further and turned green.

“Your majesty,” the wizard announced. “Those suitors are rusalki.”

A whisper of astonishment ran through the court, and some took several steps back. Rusalki were nature spirits which one must be cautious around, for they could be as good as evil, and always dangerous.

The king turned to his daughter who was still smiling. “You don’t seem surprised,” he noticed.

“I would have had to be truly stupid to spend so much time with them without suspecting that they weren’t human.”

The seven rusalki laughed at the remark, but the king was far from amused. He listened as Lukne told him what had happened, wondering what he should do. It was important not to anger these creatures.

“Will you live at the palace, with my daughter?” he asked.

“No, we cannot leave the water outside of the warm season. We want Lukne to live with us, in our palace at the bottom of the river. She will want for nothing, and we will keep her happy,” Rasa assured. “What do you say, dear Lukne?”

“It’s my greatest wish,” Lukne replied, moved.

The king stared at his daughter in bewilderment. How could she say this? Was she bewitched? He thought as fast as he could. “Unfortunately, I am quite afraid that I cannot accept your request,” he said very slowly, and with each word that came out, the rusalki’s faces darkened with cold anger.

“Why ?”

“Out of fairness!” he said very quickly. “Nobody but you could have found those crowns you had my daughter make; we must give other suitors a chance.”

The rusalki whispered among themselves. “If, next year, we find the crown fairly, will you grant us your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

“Yes,” the king said after a moment of hesitation.

“Promise it to us.”

“I promise.”

“And keep your promise,” Rasa insisted. “Because if you break it, no field or garden or yard in the kingdom will ever see a drop of rain or dew again.”

The king felt sweat run down his back, but he nodded. “I swear on my land, and before my entire court, that if you win my daughter the same way any human could, I will let you marry her, and take her with you.”

The seven rusalki smiled with mouths too wide and teeth too sharp. They bowed before the king and kissed the princess’s hand before leaving, all still wearing their flower crown in their long green hair.

The following year, Lukne was coddled more than ever. All throughout summer, the king threw dozens of balls which she was obviously invited to, in hope that she would take a liking to a prince, or a noble, or even a woman, anyone at all. Lukne, of course, was still just as pleasant, but nobody could seduce her.

The king posted guards at each door of the palace, ordering them to follow her so that she would never leave alone. Lukne was allowed to go to the river, and even to spend time with the rusalki, but everything they said was repeated back to the king.

Lukne was very upset. Her little heaven on earth was invaded by chaperones. The rusalki, however, seemed to take it as a challenge, and kept finding ways to make fun of the guards, splashing water on them or jumping on their shoulders from the branches, until they eventually stayed at a distance, afraid they might end up pulled into the water and drowned.

During the winter, the king doubled down, taking advantage of the seven suitors’ absence. He told Lukne that she would be unhappy, that she would no longer be human, that the people would be sad to see her go, that she wouldn’t see her family or friends anymore, that she had probably been enthralled, that those creatures couldn’t love her the way a human could, that it was dangerous, stupid even, to want such a life.

But each time he tried persuading her, Lukne grew increasingly upset. “Do you think that, in over ten years that I have known them, I never thought about any of this?” she would snap back at him.

When spring came, Lukne told her companions she was worried that her father might try something. But the rusalki told her to trust them, which was not difficult for her.

Kupala eve arrived. Lukne was going to cut her magic flowers, like each year. She simply planned to take out the gems. But when she went up to her bedroom, she found out that the tub she had grown them in had been taken away. In its place was a table covered in simple wildflowers. A servant informed the princess that the king had ordered for her to braid her crown with nothing else. Lukne was not even allowed to use candles or ribbons, and she was forbidden from leaving the palace until nightfall.

With a heavy heart, Lukne got to work. With all her love, she braided a very well-made crown, but far from the wonderful crowns she had been making for seven years. Nobody would expect such a simple crown from a princess.

The night came. Escorted by the guards, Lukne walked upriver and gently placed her wildflower crown down on the water. Her eyes watered. Her crown was almost invisible among all the others. She did not have the heart to join the celebration, and sadly went back up to sleep.

Laying in bed, she took what little comfort she could find in the fact that, at least, even if the rusalki would not find her crown, nobody else would either.

The next morning, Lukne was resigned when she went down to the throne room and took her seat next to her father. The king saw that she had cried. He still ordered for the suitors waiting at the palace doors to be brought in.

The seven rusalki were there first, and as if to mock the king, they were still all wearing one of the magic flower crowns. They approached the throne as a tight group, smiling wide. Lukne smiled back at them, happy to see them, but when Rasa, who was in the middle, stepped forward, she raised a hand to her heart, mouth agape.

There, in the hands of the little rusalka, was her wildflower crown.

The king’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead, and he asked Lukne if it indeed was her crown.

Unable to answer, Lukne just nodded.

“Don’t lie to me,” the king ordered the rusalki. “Did you in fact wait at the end of the river, with all the other suitors? Did you use no sorcery at all?”

“We swear we did everything according to your rules,” Rasa replied proudly. “Unlike you who forced Lukne to make the plainest crown you could.”

“But how?” the princess managed to breathe out.

Seven fond, conniving pairs of eyes turned to her. “Did you think the flowers were the only thing that mattered, those seven years?” Rasa questioned playfully. “You were the one who taught us to braid them, we could recognize them with our eyes closed.”

Then the rusalki turned back to the king with stern expressions. A rumble of thunder was heard, somewhere in the distance.

“Now keep your promise,” they ordered all at once.

Lukne stood from her throne to join them. Her father, remembering the risks if he broke his promise, bowed his head, and granted them his blessing.

Some time later, princess Lukne married the rusalki. It was the strangest wedding the kingdom had ever seen, pronounced in the river by the water spirits. Lukne squealed in laughter when her companions ridded her of her dress and untied her hair turned green before kissing her, one by one.

Then, right before diving into the water, Lukne walked up to her parents and held them tight. “Thank you for being fair,” she told her father with love. “Come see me sometimes.”

“But how?” the king asked, confused. “Are you not leaving forever?”

Lukne burst out laughing. “Of course not! I will be in the dewdrops, the mist, the rain, the rivers and lakes. I am staying forever, don’t you see? If you miss me, do what you never did before, come down to the river to see me. I will be there."

And having said those words, Lukne disappeared under the surface.

From that day onward, the kingdom was more fertile than ever and never knew any droughts. The river was given the name of Lukne, and when her story became a legend, it was made into a sacred place of protection for misunderstood lovers.

As for the king and queen, as long as they lived, they came down to the river every year, on Kupala night. They could not hear the song of the water, birds, wind, and sky, but they could see their daughter. Their feet in the water, they watched the flower crowns float away, holding in their arms their little rusalka.

#litha #kupala #st john's eve #summer solstice #story #short story #fairy tale #pagan writer #rusalka #sapphic story #polyamorous story #polyamory #lesbian

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fran-does-things · 5 months

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I’m definitely very late to the party, but I’ve finally finished the profile for my @shepherds-of-haven MC! Oh well, better late than never, I suppose. She’s loosely adapted from an old DnD PC of mine from a CoS campaign that I had such a blast role-playing! It took a while to hammer out all the details, but I’m really proud of how she turned out!

Anyway, without further ado, please allow me to introduce you to Cecilia Niriviel, Hero of Haven, and gaslight gatekeep girlboss extraordinaire!

(also, if you saw me delete and then reupload this post like 3 times, no you didn’t <3)

(Warning: The following excerpt contains vague references to events that occur in Chapter 9 of the Alpha build) “On the contrary, my friends, I think this is actually one of the better outcomes that could have resulted from that conversation. As much as it hurts my pride to say this, even I must admit that I’m a bit out of my depths when it comes to all this… old magic stuff. But blackmail?” At this, she smiles; a sharp, predatory smile that would have sent chills down the spines of the toughest of men. “Blackmail, I’m very familiar with. If that woman thinks that she’s the only one capable of playing dirty, then it would seem that her little homework assignment into my past wasn’t as thorough as she thinks it is. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” - Cecilia Niriviel, in a conversation with her allies at the Sun Court.

Some Additional Fun Facts that I Couldn’t Include in the Original Profile

Chase has a whole host of nicknames for her, including, but not limited to: ‘blondie’ (her hair really is very blonde), ‘doll/dolly’ (owing to her large, round eyes), and ‘princess’ (this one comes up often when he’s teasing her for being particularly fussy/diva-like)

Celia has a particularly tumultuous relationship with beauty, like many women do, I’d imagine. She’s always been regarded as very conventionally attractive, which means that, for better or for worse, her looks are often the first thing (and main thing) that people notice about her. This has unfortunately led to her having developed a sense of self-worth that’s wrapped up in her appearance in some pretty destructive ways. A lot of her behavioural quirks are manifestations of this core belief. One of the absolute worst things that anyone, particularly a lover, could do to her is to make her feel as though her looks are the only thing that she is valued for; I think that would really crush her self-esteem and lead her down a horrible self-destructive spiral.

She loves cats. Or any other cute, small animals, really, but especially cats. If she sees a cat, she will immediately drop whatever it is she was doing to either pet the cat or just coo at it from afar if it doesn’t want to be touched. Her very obvious love of small animals is what helped to endear her to Tallys and Shery in the early days of her joining the order, who either wasn’t too sure whether she could be trusted (Tallys) or found her a bit intimidating at first (Shery).

When it comes to her stance on love, she's what I would describe as a 'closet romantic'. After a string of bad experiences, I think she’s convinced herself that she’s just not cut out for all this love business , but deep down she’s always retained that innocent, child-like romanticism. When she was a little girl, she’s always been fascinated by fairytales about brave knights and princesses, of soulmates, and of the power of true love; and I think there’s a part of her that’s still in love with the idea of love and is still waiting for her one true love to show up! (Just you wait, Celia; little do you know, your prince charming is sneaking up on you like an assassin in the dark ;))

She doubled as a black-market informant during the years she spent working as a courtesan, selling information about her wealthy patrons to anyone willing to pay her a hefty sum. Listen: long story short, the girl was stuck in a predatory labour contract, and she needed to make money somehow if she wanted to get out of it sooner rather than later! Occasionally, she would also take on small jobs like stealing, smuggling things, etc… It helped that she had developed a few contacts in the local thieves’ guilds from her days as a street-child who would go on to help her get her foot in the door, so to speak. This line of work has never really bothered her; most of her patrons were, in her eyes, nothing but predatory, hedonistic pigs, though there are some crimes so heinous that even she’s not willing to abet in it, or some people who she just couldn’t bring herself to harm. This is a time of her life that she looks back on with a little shame and remorse, in her later years. Just a little.

Celia was partly inspired by my own struggles with overcoming trauma. I’ve always been fascinated by the ‘femme fatale’ character archetype, and she is, in a way, my take on a deconstructed version of that trope. I think of her journey from ruthless mercenary to renowned hero as less of a redemption story, or of a battle between the good and evil within, but more of a story of healing and growth. A story of someone learning to overcome their maladaptive behaviours and moving past traumatic life events. Learning to stop being beholden to events that have long transpired and to allow yourself to just live life the way you want to live

Her closest friends in the Shepherds are Chase (twin!), Lavinet (bestie!), Tallys (big sister!), and Riel (co-mastermind for world domination!). She also has a particular soft spot for all the female Shepherd captains. I’d say the characters she has the most interesting dynamic with are actually Chase and Briony, but this is a story for another time!

There is betting pool among the officers on who Celia is involved with. Funny enough, for a very long time, Riel is generally considered the top contender, not Blade, which is just hilarious on so many levels. I think a lot of the officers tend to excuse their more suspicious interactions as just... Celia being Celia (read: a notorious flirt) and Blade being Blade (read: a stick-in-the-mud) and can’t fathom the idea of them getting together. On the other hand, Riel and Celia just play off each other really well, so I can definitely see some of the Shepherds extrapolating a romantic connection from their professional synergy. It doesn't help that they’re often seen together on the off chance that they both have some time off, or that they primarily communicate through cryptic looks and subtle eye-glances. I imagine that once Blade and Celia's relationship becomes official/more public, it would cause a mild panic among the recruits because "I thought she was seeing the other commander? Wtf is going on???"

Bonus: In a pre-relationship crushing stage, poor Blade is probably 4th on the officers’ betting list of ‘who is Commander Niriviel secretly fucking’, right below Chase and Briony. Chase and Celia practically invented platonic flirting, and there many who mistake Briony and Celia’s frequent sleepovers/girl-talk sessions as something far less innocent than it really is. At this point, I’m pretty sure she’s been suspected of sleeping with pretty much all of the captains at one point or another. Being the busybody social butterfly that she is, Celia’s definitely heard most if not all of these rumours, but she really doesn’t care enough to do anything about it most of the time, plus she finds some of these rumours to be so preposterous that it’s actually kind of funny.

I had no idea that Celia was going to be a Blademancer, and yet here we are! I really thought it was going to be either Chase or Red, but I think it just wouldn’t have worked out quite as well. The slow burn comes from the fact that both Blade and Celia currently have their heads stuck far up their asses, albeit in different ways. It takes Blade a while to realize/accept that he's even in love, and while Celia is self-aware enough to realize when she's falling for someone, she's not emotionally mature enough to deal with it in a normal way. There was a lot of screaming and cursing and "this can't be happening to me; I don't fall for people!! People fall for me!!!" They both learn to get over their fears and hesitations, however, when they realize just how much life and vibrancy the other brings to their life. I like to think that Celia helps Blade come out of his shell, to learn to be a little more selfish when it matters and helps him enjoy the beauty in life; meanwhile Blade is a grounding force for her; he sees past her smokescreens, reminds her of her goodness, and makes her want to be a better person.

If you've made it this far, thank you for indulging me in my ramblings about a fictional character! There may be more Celia content coming in the future; I've been thinking a lot about the events of Chapter 4 and might write something on that. suffice to say I've honestly really fallen in love with the game and with its cast of characters. I've found myself with a lot of free time this week (clearly) and have finally caught up to the update, and all I can say is that Celia and I are both currently having the time of our lives watching the drama unfold. Can't wait to see what else is coming next! <3

#shoh #shepherds of haven #shepherds of haven mc

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scatterbrainedart · 1 month

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Could you do a sketch of the goddess Alke please?

I’ve never heard of her before, and I couldn’t find much to go off of, so I think I got a bit lost in the sauce pulling from the one reference: Greek goddess of courage and battle strength.

My mind simply went “Greek solider”. And that was pretty much it. But that was boring, so I started over and now I love her actually. Here are both versions!

I just loosely sketched over my previous sketch and changed the things I felt like changing. I originally wanted to give her knightly vibes, but for my second version I decided to give her an animal to draw some inspiration from, because that always helps. And naturally, my mind went to bears. So then immediately I wanted to try to make her look more like a courageous hunter. I also made her a bit stockier, because I liked the idea of her being quite small but hunting larger prey, because you gotta be quite courageous for that I’d imagine. So yeah, the hide is really the biggest change. And the hair. I so badly wanted to give her big flowing hair (whether I subconsciously started drawing inspiration from Brave and Merida is unimportant)

I hope you like her!! She was fun

#please do tell me which god to draw next!#I’ve only done like five lol #four with her #Alke #greek gods #greek goddesses #art #digital art #artwork #digital artwork #all my art ☆#sketch #character design #asks answerin’#drawing requests

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peepersponies · 1 month

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Ok so yeah, 10k Escape Plans. Ruh roh!

I got the angel version off of KikaGoods because I absolutely adore her design and generally I do not fw blind boxes. I don't personally regret buying her buuuut.... They weren't kidding about those quality control issues.

Pros: Her design is just beautiful. I love that her corset actually laces up. Her clothes fit her nicely and look lovely. The sculpting and painting of her hair are gorgeous. All of the extra hands look great, AND there is a set of pegs to hold the S hooks in the wrists while changing clothes, which I greatly appreciate-- I was dreading putting on her arm warmers until I saw those.

Cons: The aforementioned arm warmers prevent you from posing her elbows or wrists because they're so stiff. (Also they're made of that plastic faux leather that is going to degrade and disintegrate and permanently crease in about 20 minutes. The leg warmers, bodice, and corset are the same.)

Also, the wrists can't be posed anyway, they just flick right back to the default position.

This MIGHT be because the stringing of her arms is WAY too loose, to the point where if you pull one arm, the wrist will just hang limp when you let go. But I haven't been brave enough to restring her and check, and I don't know enough about BJD engineering to say for sure. Either way:

Hey, that's not how that's supposed to work!

There's staining/embedded dirt in her left thigh, and the design on her right leg warmer is misprinted.

This isn't a quality control issue and more of just a general design critique but... the wing accessory for her waist just kind of.... Sits there? And it falls off if you breathe too close to it. I'm not really sure what to do with it, despite it theoretically looking really cool.

Overall, I'm conflicted. Part of me thinks "she's only 35 dollars and has so many details and individual pieces, shes probably being made on a shoestring budget as is! It's wrong to complain about flaws." But at the end of the day, other dolls are coming out at equivalent price points and detail that don't have all these issues. And if a company is advertising a product, it's their job to deliver on that product as promised. If they can't do that for the stated price, they need to sort that out internally and either raise the price or simplify the product.

Buyer, unfortunately, beware.

#bjd #kikagoods #bjd blind box #ten thousand escape plans #JIDONGSHUNXI #<- that's the company who made her #dollblr #doll collector #dolls #my touys #toy review

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written-in-flowers · 2 years

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Fly Away: Pt. 3

Pairing: Young!Aemond x Young!Velaryon!Reader | Side pairing: Rhaenyra x Alicent, Aegon x Helaena

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Au: friends to lovers, childhood love,

Tags: incest (duh), slight homophobia expressed, repressed feelings, mutual pining, teenage runaways, mentions of bullying, arrange marriages

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Young love overcomes all in a family full of broken bonds and broken hearts. When Princess Y/N Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen are discovered missing from their beds, their mothers must come together to find them. The search might do more for their families than a mere marriage pact can.

A/N: want to clarify now that we stick with young!Aemond throughout the story. Ewan’s Aemond comes in at the very end. This is mainly done starting a bit before The Princess and the Queen and a little bit after the events at Driftmark. I do pull some scenes from the show, but it remains relatively loose throughout. Want to also point out that The Dance doesn’t happen in this universe, so...happy ending expected, because we need more of those.

Taglist: @yitish @imjustboredso @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @discowizard88

@mddieeunson

Previous Chapter < Part 2 | Next Chapter > Part 4

****

"Princess! Princess Y/N!"

Your lady-in-waiting shoved you awake, and you stared around groggily. Outside, the sky turned completely dark, the moon giving rays of light to the blackness outside. How long have you slept? You weren’t sure.

"Wha-What is it, Helen?"

"It's your brothers," she whispered, "Something awful has happened."

Her words lifted you from sleep. You pulled on your bed robes and followed her into the main hall of High Tide. Everyone stood around near the fire, its blazing hearth bringing an orange glow to the gray room. Your eyes searched the room for Jace and Luke, who stood with your mother. Luke, the smallest, turned his head to see you rushing over to him. You bent down to see the blood streaming from his nose, and the gash on the bridge of his nose. You moved his hand to let you take a better look; it made your stomach turn. You saw blood caked on the side of Jace’s face, and you examined him as well.

"What happened?" You asked, fretfully. "What happened, Jace?"

"They attacked me!"

It was Aemond who spoke. You turned around to see him sitting with the maester. Something was wrong. Very wrong. You saw blood on his face and nose; his blond hair messy, damp and blown back from his face. Queen Alicent sat at her son's side, tearful and face full of dread and concern. Tears streamed down her face as she sat beside him. Then, you noticed it: the long, bloody stitch going from his forehead to his cheekbone. It slashed right through his left eye.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace yelled back, and the shouting started up again.

They'd taken his eye. Who'd done it? Jace? Luke? No, they're not capable of such cruelty. You couldn't imagine your brothers purposefully bringing a knife to a fight. As each child screamed out pieces of the story, you learned what happened: Aemond claimed Vhagar, the oldest and largest of dragons, and that had upset Rhaena, whose mother rode Vhagar. You understood her anger, but couldn't help thinking that dragons aren't inherited. Vhagar chose Aemond because she sensed something inside him. At least, you thought so. Who truly understood the ways of dragons? You personally thought he was brave for approaching her. Despite being a dragon rider yourself, you would've run at the sight of the monstrous beast. Your eyes met Aemond’s from across the room, and the boy immediately turned away. You frowned.

He must be in so much pain.

"He called us 'bastards'," Jace said quietly to your mother.

The word snapped you out of your thoughts. You weren't surprised. The rumors that spread for years eventually boiled over into this terrible incident. For a brief moment, you resented Aemond for the insult, since he’d thrown it at your brothers. But then, his one eye looked back at you again, saw you staring, and turned around. Your grandfather appeared, using his walking stick to balance himself as he approached Aemond. He demanded the whole story. Aemond said nothing. He sat there, staring up at his father with what you considered hatred. You understood why immediately. The King did not give a single sympathetic word to Aemond. He did not comfort his son, who’d lost his eye, or demand punishment be served on either side. He sounded as if blamed Aemond for what happened, and the pity returned.

“Vile insults were levied against them,” your mother’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“What insults?”

“The legitimacy of my sons’ birth was put loudly to question,” she answered, holding Luke’s hand still. “My sons stand in line to inherit the Iron Throne. This is the highest of treasons.”

‘No, what you did is the highest of treasons, Mother,’ you couldn’t help thinking. Slowly, you shut your eyes and pushed the thought away. That isn’t fair.

“Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we may learn where he heard these rumors.”

You turned to your mother. Your mother showed no concern for the boy, her half-brother, who’d been maimed. It sounded so unlike her. Your eyes fell on Queen Alicent. If Aemond heard them from anyone, it’d be his mother. Those rumors are the reason she chose you for Aemond, instead of Helaena for Jace. As expected, Aemond protected his mother and named Aegon as the culprit. You didn’t doubt it, but you didn’t fully believe it either. What stunned you the most was the disregard your grandsire had for his own son. His son was disfigured. You knew you’d proclaim some sort of justice for your child’s eye if the roles were reversed. You’d tell both parties to apologize to one another; you’d comfort Aemond during this traumatic moment. The insult is vile and cruel. It brings into question everything about your mother and brothers.

But Aemond, your betrothed, lost his eye.

“We know, Father,” Aegon said. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

You preferred not to. You looked at Aemond again. He did not turn around this time. A flurry of mixed emotions whirled around in your chest. Your brothers are injured. Accusations about their legitimacy were said out loud. Aemond attacked your brothers in, what sounded like, self-defense. He broke Luke’s nose and nearly killed Jace with a rock. But, he’d lost his eye, a thing he’ll live with forever. You wanted to reach out to embrace him, yet wanted to embrace your brothers as well.

You stood by as your grandsire claimed he’d remove the tongue of anyone who slandered the princes’ births ever again. Not a single word said for the son who’d been wounded or any solution or discipline for the person who caused it. You loved Luke and Jace, but they’d acted in violence. Aemond might be injured, yet he’d been violent as well. It’d been four, including Rhaena and Baela, against one. Aemond only did what Targaryens had done for centuries: claimed a dragon. If your grandsire truly wished to end the infighting, he’d reprimand both sides and make them apologize to one another. He did no such thing. As expected, he favored your mother over any of his other children.

You pitied them.

Queen Alicent, in her rage, took the king’s blade and turned on your mother. A ripple of shock went through the room before your mother stopped her hand. You couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but you then saw the silver blade be slashed down into her wrist. You went forward towards her, and saw the bleeding gash underneath her sleeve.

“Do not mourn me, Mother,” Aemond said to his mother, who stood in shock at what she’d done, “It was a fair exchange.” His eyes looked back at you, “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

The room fell silent at his words. Soon, people around you cleared the room, but you stayed put. You watched Aemond hug his mother, putting his head on her chest as she embraced him. His eye met yours, and you froze. How did you convey pity without words? You should have spoken out; you should have said something to comfort him, but couldn’t find the words. Looking down at your feet, you saw the small puddle of blood where your mother bled. How much more blood needs to be shed? Your mother left with Daemon, and you walked your brothers back to her chambers. You all sat by while the maester began cleaning and stitching her wound. The temptation to speak the truth came to you, but you washed it down. You knew how it’d look if you spoke your thoughts out loud.

Unfortunately, your mother knew the look well.

She cleared the room of the maester and your brothers before looking over at you. “What do you wish to say?”

“Mother?”

“You’re pensive. You haven’t said a word since the incident.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Y/N, I am in no mood to be lied to.”

You stared at her. You fiddled with a corner of your bed robe, staring into your lap. “The King did nothing.”

“What?”

“His son is brutally injured,” you said carefully, “And he did nothing. He didn’t appear to even care. He only spoke to Aemond to scold him.”

“Because he made false allegations against your brothers. It is considered treason to even question it. The King needed to question him to learn where he heard the rumors.”

“His son loses an eye and nobody is punished in any way.”

“So, you agree with The Queen? That we should’ve let her remove your little brother’s eye?”

“Of course not,” you looked up at her, “But you cannot say that they are guiltless. Both sides acted out of violence due to this family rivalry; both sides should have been spoken to on what they did so they can understand the wrongness. They should have been made to apologize to one another, truthfully apologize. The King should have spoken to you and The Queen alone; not in a place so crowded where everyone could listen.”

“Speak to us? Why?”

“You are their parents,” you said. “This insistent infighting started with the both of you. Mother, I do not know what event caused you and Queen Alicent to become so distant from each other, but it’s influenced your sons. Grandfather told me you and Queen Alicent were once good friends. Best friends.” You could tell you’d wounded her further with your opinions, but they are yours. She looked at the injury on her arm, still fresh and bleeding. You rounded the table to the maester’s seat, picked up the gauze cloths on the table, and began wrapping it gently. “My marriage to Aemond is meant to bridge the schism between our families. How can that happen if both sides continue to fight regardless?”

“You blame me then?”

“And the Queen,” you admitted. Your hand shook slightly as you wrapped the wound. Your stomach lurched at your own words. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for speaking the truth. “I think if you and The Queen found a common ground, genuinely talked to one another…I think that example will encourage your children to make amends as well. The rivalry only grew from the wounds made long ago.” You saw the hard stare on her face. “I love you, Mother. I love you more than anything; I will do anything you ask of me. I’m even marrying Aemond, who was not my choice of husband. You asked for my thoughts, and I am telling you how I feel.” The shame filled your chest, and tightened there.

She stared at you for a moment longer, then put her hand over yours. The stony expression softened. You could tell she looked for the right words to say. Then she said: “I do not think a bridge could be made, little dove,” she told you, “Especially after tonight. She wanted to cut out my son’s eye; she would have were I not there. That is something I cannot forgive easily.” She gazed at you, “You are a child, Y/N. You do not understand the history. It is not something I can mend on my own, and The Queen has made her feelings clear. Do you truly believe it was Aegon he heard those rumors from? We both know who really said them.”

“Are they truly rumors, Mother?”

“Y/N,” she snapped.

“I am not a fool, Mother, and neither is anyone else.”

“How could you…I would never have believed…” she took a deep breath, letting go of your hand, “Your brothers have Valyrian blood in their veins, just like you do.”

“Yes, because they are your sons,” you told her. “But everyone knows they’re not-”

“-That’s enough,” she cut you off. “You’ve spoken fairly out of line, and I will not be scolded by my own daughter.”

“Mother, I was not-”

“-The fact you even think this is astounding to me. It’s hurtful-”

“-Mother, I’m sorry that I spoke out of line. I was only speaking my mind-”

“-And clearly you think poorly of your own family-”

“-I do not think poorly of you at all,” you pleaded. You stood up suddenly, your hands sliding from between hers. “It only scares me that this petty rivalry between our houses has cultivated in violence. We should be trying to apologize and forgive each other for past transgressions instead of continuing this fighting-”

“-You are a child. What do you know about transgressions?” she took a deep breath and looked away from you, “Go to your quarters. Now. You need to pack for the journey.”

“Mother, I-”

“-Go to your chambers. That is an order.”

You faltered, “Yes, Mother. I’ll call the maester back in to-”

“-Don’t bother. Just leave.”

You turned away from your mother and walked back to your room with your head up high. Tears blurred your vision; guilt and shame filled your bones, but you continued walking. You’d only done what she asked. It was no fault of yours that she didn’t like the response. Yes, you’d overstepped bringing up Jace and Luke’s birth, yet it hurt that your mother expected you to remain blind to the truth. It was not as if you’d said in full view of everyone. You’d spoken your mind to her, and only her. You regretted saying a word. Your mother suffered so much through the night, and you bringing up the past deepened the wound. She hates you now. So will Jace and Luke, if they ever hear what you said.

Once you reached your bedchamber, you found your maids already packing your things. You saw the bed nearby, and wished to climb into it and cry.

“Get out. All of you,” you said, the lump in your throat thickening your voice. “I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

They bowed and left, shutting the door behind them. The moment the door closed, your tears finally broke free. You felt ashamed to have ever accused your mother that way. It’d be better to remain ignorant from now on. If your grandsire can do it, surely you can as well. Does it truly matter in the end? They are your brothers regardless. Standing by the fire to warm your numbing body, you cried harder. You’d never meant to hurt your mother. You love her. She must know that. You’d only offer a solution to the entire situation, even if it is a hard one.

A gentle knock came to the door, and one of the maids opened the door. “What do you want? I said I did not wish to be disturbed,” you sniffled, not looking at her.

“But…It is the prince.”

“Tell Aegon he can properly fuck off,” you hissed, the words unbefitting a princess.

“It’s not Aegon.”

Aemond’s voice came softly through the room. You couldn’t face him. You didn’t want him to see you crying like a baby. The door closed again, and you knew Aemond stood nearby watching you. You needed to say something. The boy lost his eye because of your brothers and saw no justice for it.

If you showed some good will and intentions, they might take a cue from you to do the same.

“My prince,” you sniffled again, turning slowly to face him. The maester wrapped Aemond’s wound, the cloth barely contrasting against his fair skin and blond hair. “What brings you here? You should be resting before the journey home.”

“You’re crying,” he ignored your statement and came over to you. “Why are you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” you lied.

Aemond reached up to your cheek, and used his thumb to wipe your tears. “When you’re my wife,” he said, “Anyone who makes you cry will have to answer to me.” He then added, “If you still wish to be, that is.”

“What makes you say that?”

He hesitated. His hand felt soft against your cheek, a gesture that made your cheeks warm. Briefly, you remembered the beach and how he’d looked at you. “Look at me,” he told you, letting go of you, “What girl would want to marry me when I…I’d understand if you didn’t wish to marry me anymore.”

“I don’t believe I have that choice.” Especially not after what you’d said to your mother. “My mother’s been quite insistent that we marry.”

“So has mine…until now. She said she’d break the betrothal if my father didn’t demand it.”

“How would you feel if she did that?”

“Do you wish for the truth?”

“Always.”

“I’d feel everything I did last night would be for nothing.”

His words gave you pause. “For nothing? Aemond, you’ve wanted a dragon since you knew what they were. Everyone in our family has one except for you. You’ve nearly gotten killed approaching them in the dragon pit. How could claiming Vhagar be for nothing?”

“I only went to her because I thought that, perhaps, if I had a dragon you’d like me more.” The notion made you laugh softly, but he continued, “I ride Vhagar now. She’s the largest dragon in the world. She’s the last of the dragons to witness Aegon’s Conquest. The greatest of dragonriders have ridden her throughout history. I thought if I claimed her, you’d want me to be your husband.” The glimmer of hope dimmed when he said, “Then your brother took my eye.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t attacked them-”

“-They attacked me first; all four of them attacked me at once. I was defending myself.”

“Because you’d hit Baela.”

“I didn’t hit her. I pushed her. She hit me first, all because I took her mother’s dragon. I was only doing what the other riders do.”

“I’m a dragonrider, and I’d never do that to someone else. You were wrong to take Vhagar like that.”

“It’s not my fault that her sister didn’t claim her mother’s dragon,” he said, anger rising in him. “Dragons aren’t heirlooms. You cannot steal a dragon from someone.”

“But you knew they’d at least let Rhaena try first. She doesn’t have a dragon either,” you then said, “How would you feel if someone took your chance at having a dragon from you?”

“She’ll get her dragon someday.”

“Answer my question, Aemond. How would you feel?” He didn’t respond immediately. The fire inside him died out at your question. “You’d be upset, wouldn’t you?” you asked.

“What does that matter? I ride Vhagar now.”

“It matters because as a prince you must show compassion and empathy for others,” you said. “If you should ever rule one day, you need to show your subjects that you are capable of understanding and sympathy.”

“I’m never going to rule because your mother is heir to the throne, and your brothers will inherit afterwards-”

“-And one day I might be queen and you’d be my king consort and I don’t think I’d want to rule with someone who can’t show an ounce of sensitivity.”

“You’ll never be queen,” he sneered.

“And why not?”

“Because of your brother. He’s the next male heir. It’s the male heir who gets the crown.”

“If that was true, why didn’t Grandfather name Aegon heir when he was born?”

“Aegon’s a fool. He’ll never be a good king. Anybody with eyes could see that.”

“Then who should have been named an heir when he didn’t know he’d be having more children?”

“He could’ve named me,” he said. “He could’ve named me his heir, then I’d be king. I ride the largest dragon. I’m the one who pays attention at lessons, and trains with a sword. I’m the one who is betrothed to the prettiest girl at court, and you’ll be my queen-”

“-As if I’d want to be your queen after what you said about my brothers-”

“-I didn’t lie. Everyone knows it-”

“-Y/N?”

You both turned to see Jace and Luke at the door. Jace’s eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of Aemond standing so close to you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, “Why are you in my sister’s room?”

“I came to speak to my betrothed without interruption,” he replied sharply. “I’m allowed to do that.”

“There is no way I’m letting you marry my sister,” he said. “My mother is going to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Your mother can’t overturn my father’s commands. He is the King.”

“And I’ll be king one day,” Jace said, “And when I’m king, I’m going to annul your marriage so my sister doesn’t have to spend a single moment in your company.”

“Oh please, Jace,” you scoffed, stepping between them. “Have you two not fought enough today?” you asked them both. “Hasn’t enough blood been spilled already? Prince Aemond has already been maimed, and our brother has a broken nose.”

“A wound he caused!”

“A wound you repaid with a dagger,” you turned on him. “Why did you have it in the first place?”

“In case I needed it,” he defended. “He tried to kill us. He tried to kill Baela and Rhaena.”

“I doubt he was really going to do it, Jace.”

“He called us ‘bastards’! Why are you defending him?”

“I am not defending him, but you cannot say you took no part in what happened last night. Everyone,” you turned back to Aemond, “In this situation is wrong. We are all family. We should be united, not divided. Aemond was wrong for taking Vhagar. Baela was wrong for hitting him; and he was wrong for hitting her in turn. You and Luke were both wrong to beat him. He was wrong to call you bastards and to threaten to kill you. Luke was certainly wrong for slashing his face. Nobody here truly meant the things they did or said. All of these wrongs were done in an explosion of violence and resentment.”

“Resentment?”

“Yes, Jace, ‘resentment’. A resentment our parents' started a long time ago.” You didn’t know how else to make them see it. You felt helpless. You are screaming into an empty void; hitting a wall that refuses to be knocked down. “We should be standing together, not apart. I’m marrying Aemond to help our families build an alliance again. We are family. We are the crown. If we’re…if we’re always fighting and hurting one another, what sort of image does that show the rest of the realm?” You saw Luke’s and Jace’s faces harden, “Now, say your apologies. All three of you.”

“I’m not apologizing. I was defending myself,” Aemond snarled.

“We’re not apologizing either. We were defending ourselves.”

“We were.”

Fresh tears started filling your eyes again. It might be as hopeless as you thought. “Get out of my room. All of you.”

“Y/N…” Aemond reached out to you, but you stepped away from him. You saw him glare back at your brothers before storming out. Jace and Luke stayed where they were.

“I said ‘leave’.”

“How could you defend him?” Jace asked, appalled by your words. “He called us names and hit us. He was going to bash my head with a rock, and he broke Luke’s nose.”

“I’m not defending him, Jace-”

“-We’re your brothers. You’re supposed to side with us.”

“I never said I was not on your side-”

“-It looks that way.”

“And then you hurt Mother’s feelings,” Luke chimed in. “She was crying when we went to see her and you were the last person there.”

“You hate us. You think we’re bastards too, and you hate us,” Jace concluded. “That’s why you’re so keen to marry Aemond.”

“I don’t hate you,” you sobbed. “You’re my brothers. I could never hate you. I only wish for my family to get along.”

“You might as well go to King’s Landing with your precious betrothed and leave our family alone!”

“Jace, you don’t mean that.”

“What’s going on in here?”

Your father finally made his appearance. He looked between your brothers and you, and stepped into the room. “Y/N,” he came over to you, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears, “What is happening?”

“She keeps defending Aemond!” Jace answered. “She probably thinks we deserved what we got.”

“No, no, no, Father, that’s not true,” you wept, shaking your head. You wrapped your arms around his middle, and sobbed into his chest. “I want my family to love each other like other families. I don’t want my marriage to Aemond to be for nothing. I love my family. I love you, and Mother, and Jace, and Luke, and Joffrey, and the King and the Queen and Aemond and Haelaena, and-”

“-That’s quite enough, little dove,” he comforted you, rubbing your back and holding you tightly. “Boys,” he looked to your brothers, “Go get ready to leave.”

Your eyes met Jace’s, seeing them full of bitterness, and he turned to leave with Luke behind him. Your father looked down at you, frowning at your fresh fall of tears, “I understand you only have the best intentions, Y/N. What happened last night must have disturbed and hurt you as well as your mother. But, the things that have happened between our families cannot easily be mended.”

“They can be if both sides are sincere.”

He wiped your cheeks again, then said, “You truly are the best of us, Y/N.” He kissed the top of your head, then said, “We’re leaving soon. Try resting for a bit before we go.”

He pecked your forehead one more time, then left you. Then, your maids returned to finish packing your things while you rested on your bed. When the time came to leave Driftmark, you said your farewells to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and hugged your cousins Baela and Rhaena. You walked outside, the sea-salt winds blowing through your coat and hair, to see your dragon, Starshine, being saddled by Dragonkeepers. Dark blue with flecks of gold on her scales, the she-dragon turned her head when you approached her. Finally, someone who didn’t hate you. You walked up to her, petting her long neck as she purred.

“Good morning, Star,” you said softly in High Valyrian, so only she heard you. “Ready to leave?”

She ruffled her neck, and you took that to mean ‘yes, please’. You couldn’t agree more. You’d been about to mount when a voice called out to you. When you looked, it was your mother; your brothers stood a few feet behind her, watching you from afar. Jace must’ve told her what happened. You nearly considered jumping onto Starshine and flying away before she could say anything.

“Y/N?” she said once she reached you, “I wanted to speak to you before we went home.”

“Yes, Mother?”

“I…” she sighed deeply, “I’m sorry for how I reacted to your opinions. I asked you for them, and became angry when you answered honestly. I do not wish for you to be scared to tell the truth or think you can never confide in me again.” She took both your hands, “Your heart is in the right place. It’s in a far better place than most people’s. But, there are some wounds that cannot be mended with apologies and good faith.”

“They can be if both sides are sincere.”

She smiled at your attempt at persuasion. She kissed your cheek and hugged you. A small relief that at least your mother didn’t hate you filled you. “Fly safe,” she said, “I will see you at home.”

“I will.”

Your mother watched you mount Starshine, then kick off into the skies. Once above the world, alone with nothing but air and clouds, you thought clearly. You could keep going. Starshine out flew all the other dragons due to her narrow body and wings. She could take you all the way across The Narrow Sea to the Free Cities of Essos. If you flew away, you won’t have to worry about family quarrels, meaningless marriage proposals, or Aemond Targaryen and the mixed feelings you had for him now. But, if you flew away, you can never make it up to your brothers. You’d never see your mother or father again. You’d never see Aemond either. So, rather than give into temptations, you flew towards Dragonstone. You saw your brothers’ dragons far ahead of you. You directed Starshine closer to them in minutes, then guided her into the empty space between them. Through the clouds, you saw Jace sitting upon Vermax and Luke riding Arrax. Jace turned his head to see you and your dragon. Not much needed to be said. With a cheeky smile, you encouraged Starshine to fly a bit faster. You didn’t know whether they’d take the challenge or not, but you tried.

Your answer came when Vermax soared overhead, and you heard a faint, “You’re on!” in the distance.

You let Vermax win.

****

“…I do not know what event caused you and Queen Alicent to become so distant from each other, but it spilled onto your children. ”

Oh, you sweet girl. Rhaenyra stood on the balcony watching the King’s ship sail away back towards King’s Landing. She watched the blue and gold Starshine quickly fade into the clouds alongside Vermax and Arrax. She had no desire to leave just yet. Her eyes followed Starshine into the clouds, then surveyed the ships below. Her father and Alicent will be on one of those heading back home. She absentmindedly touched her wrist, and remembered the events of last night.

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot once again.”

Alicent’s words haunted her. Duty? She’d done her duty by marrying and having children. They may not be Laenor’s children, but they are still hers. Sacrifice? She’d sacrificed so much. She’d almost listed the things she’d given up to live up to her responsibilities. She’d given up freedom, agency, and the person she’d freely given her heart to: Alicent herself. Rhaenyra knew deep down Alicent’s resentment comes from her father’s neglect of her children. She isn’t blind. She knows her father favors her over her other siblings; it’s this love that’s saved her from the executioner’s blade. Rhaenyra did not ask for that; she never asked him to dismiss his other children, her siblings. Alicent must know that. She must.

You’d been right, of course, though she’d never admit it out loud. The bad blood that’d filled the distance between her and Alicent made a new river towards their children. Rhaenyra never intended that either.

“...You take my son’s eye, and to even that you feel entitled…”

It had been a regrettable accident. Luke and Jace defended themselves, that was all. It was not as if they’d held Aemond down and removed the eye on purpose. He’d repeated his mother’s vile accusations, and attacked her children. They’d done nothing that no other person wouldn’t have done. Jace brought the blade in case he needed to defend himself, which he did. Luke only protected his brother from a brutal attack. Her shock flared into anger at the demand that Lucerys’s eye be removed as payment for Aemond’s. Alicent, always hiding behind her righteousness and piety, now showed her true colors to everyone. Everyone will think she’s gone mad.

But you. You had seen the situation for what it is: the climax of a long-standing rivalry. Laenor told her what you’d said to him; how you’d tearfully told him you loved your family and that things could be mended. Rhaenyra admired your hope. You truly had the best intentions, but there are times when that is not enough. After last night, Rhaenyra doubted she’d speak to Alicent ever again. Any possibility of the two families coming together is broken now. It pained her to think about it. She’d no doubt call for your betrothal to Aemond be rescinded. Rhaenyra could not agree more. Rhaenyra refused to marry her only daughter to a boy who’d insulted and attacked her sons. She thought of writing to her father once she returned home. But, she knew what he’d say:

‘Their marriage will strengthen the bond between our houses.’

And, deep down, she knew you’d be devastated. But, how could you still want to marry the boy after what he’d done? If you truly loved your brothers, you’d ask for it yourself.

No, that’s not fair. She knew you loved your brothers, but you’d grown to love Aemond as well. She imagined the conflict you must be suffering, and wished she could resolve it for you. This incident will undoubtedly solidify any bad feelings between the families. She did not know if this would be mended so easily.

“…Grandfather told me you and Queen Alicent were once good friends. Best friends.”

They’d been more than that, she remembered. Their soft kisses in the sand led to a closer relationship. Once she’d tasted Alicent’s lips, she’d wanted more. The urge to fly away with her became stronger with every minute in her company. Nobody made her feel so weak and vulnerable. Not Ser Criston. Not her uncle, Daemon. Not even Harwin, whom she’d loved and birthed children for. Alicent took part of her heart and ran with it, and Rhaenyra let her keep it, for she’d given Rhaenyra a piece in return. She thought they’d be together forever. But, right as their love blossomed into a vibrant flower, the weeds of life strangled and pulled it down from the sky.

The ambitions of Lord Otto Hightower forced the wedge that kept them apart for so long.

****

A/N: Oooh, this really brings things into a more complicated place! I hope you guys enjoyed this part, don’t be shy to let me know what you think <3

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd drabble #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer

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