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mccromy · 1 month

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Thinking of Luo Bingge trying to seduce a nice Shizun for himself and failing miserably.

LBG, used to women throwing themselves at his feet just by being in their proximity, utterly confused as SY won't also fall to his knees and beg to be ravished. He doesn't even have a LBH of his own, LBG checked!!!

SY thinks he's handsome and charming and sooo cool, but also LBG will surely kill him if he steps out of line :) no thanks :). And as he finds himself being subjected to over the top courtship attempts, he thinks LBG must want something from him. info? Treasures? No need for this charade, Junshang, you just need to ask!

One time, they get sex pollened and LBG is like "finally! Now he'll beg me to help him with my magical Heavenly demon cum" and SY will just stab himself until the pain and adrenaline overwhelm the horniness and he bleeds out the poison because 1) he's straight! And more importantly "I would never put Luo Binghe in a situation in which he doesn't have the choice to say no!"

LBG is stumped, heals him quickly with his magical Heavenly demon blood, and remains in a state of shock for a week. Also, for some reason he can't stand the sight of Qin Wanyue anymore.

When he does finally pull that bad bitch, he doesn't get rid of his harem (love alone can't heal this man. He also craves the attention as he craves air) and SY understands it. He had his moment, now is time to vanish into the harem and stay the fuck away from Harem politics.

LBG goes to check his new husband, it's been a week since they had some time together, longer since their wedding night, and the sense of accomplishment remains. (Take that Inferior Luo Binghe! Superior Luo Binghe had bitches AND a nice Shizun!) And tries to seduce him into bed, but SY being SY needs to do a little song and dance before getting plowed and LBG has no clue what's going on.

Why won't he say yes immediately?? What do you mean with "aiyah... I'm a bit occupied"??? You're?? My husband??? Open your legs??? Oh! You need to be seduced more?? Alright, I'll do it.

And he tries to tempt him like he does all his wives, bedroom eyes and a deep voice and soft touches and. It. Won't. Fucking. work.

SY doesn't want coaxing! He doesn't know what he actually wants but for some reason this is not doing anything for him (he wants tears and pouts, something that LBG is too prideful to even think about trying).

After a few more attempts Shen Yuan feels his pussy dry out of frustration and goes:

"You know what, Binghe? Just go ask another wife, I'm not in the mood now." And LBG is like,

"Ah my dear husband is jealous, no need, you, exclusively, may have this lord for the night."

And SY is like, offended, because he is actually a bit jealous but how does LBG dare say that out loud?? How insensitive!! Spare this old man some face!! To be a man jealous of those flowers perfuming your garden is so humiliating!! And SY, petty bitch that he is, raises an eyebrow and says, "Perhaps my lord should visit lady (name of wife #78) she has been more neglected than this husband, so she needs our Lord more than I."

LBG gets forceful in his frustration because he wants DICK and HOLE, not HOLE and HOLE! and SY palm strikes him and sends LBG flying. LBG shakes off the dust and stomps fuming towards wife #78's room. Then, unsatisfied, goes to visit five more wives until the sun rises.

After that SY gets snappish and cold and poor LBG is SO triggered.

SY: *glares at him over his fan*

LBG: this reminds me of something that I do NOT want to think about. No, sir. Don't like how it feels.

What did he do?? Why do even the nice Shizuns reject him?? Is there actually something wrong with him??? No. No, it can be.

He'll show his husband! He's rejecting him, hm? LBG will reject him back!! He'll ignore him!!! See how he likes it! Hmph!! He'll come crawling back.

He doesn't. Shen Yuan takes this as a sign Luo Bingge can't be satisfied by a man and, hurt and angry, just lets him.

And Shen Yuan becomes quite the unfavored "wife" and thus a victim of Harem plotting, and he asks to be sent to another residence, much to Luo Bingge's ire. His request gets denied, and SY, feeling like an unwanted pet whose owner refuses to give away out of a sense of ownership, turns even colder towards Luo Bingge.

LBG is a fucking mess. He tries to make SY jealous, let's himself get caught balls deep in the wife of the week by SY. Flaunts his favoritism for others and makes SY watch. But SY doesn't show any reaction to any of it. And when he does, it's just disappointment.

But he's not disappointed that he isn't the one sitting on LBG's lap (something clear in some other wives faces, who stare at the chosen wife resentfully) he's disappointed in Luo Bingge.

And Luo Bingge can tell the difference.

(Sometimes, Shen Yuan thinks, what's cool in fiction is just... Sad and hurtful in real life.)

Luo Bingge does a 180 and now tries to seduce him by courting him like he did before getting married. But Shen Yuan, unlike the other wives, doesn't just forget and forgive the shit Luo Binghe pulled before. He's not snappish, but quiet, still disappointed, sad. He seems to have fallen out of love. And no matter what Luo Bingge does he can't make him fall in love again.

He's tried everything, no matter what he does he just can't close the breach between them.

Luo Bingge just can't win with this man.

And Shen Yuan has not fallen out of love, he's just realized how petty and sad his husband is. And he doesn't know how to reach him, how to help him. LBG thinks they're playing cat and mouse and doesn't realize he actually hurt SY. And when he finally apologizes, SY remarks that he's apologizing that SY was so hurt over LBG's treatment, and not for giving him said treatment. LBG can't understand the difference.

And SY knows him, knows him better than LBG will ever know. And he says he forgives him, but LBG can't tell if he means it or not.

SY does mean it. Because he understands why LBG did what he did, and although it was not right, LBG didn't know any better now, did he? SY won't take this peace of mind away from him just because LBG didn't meet his expectations.

He's not angry, he just feels pity.

Things become amicable once again, but LBG can tell things have not been swept under the rug. Yet SY is just as sweet as he used to be, but there's something different.

SY's touch is no longer reverent nor feverish, but careful. As if LBG is fragile, and LBG both hates and is addicted to it.

LBG can't read him, can't understand him. So he assumes that SY is planning to betray him and is feeling guilty. Ah, his husband allied himself with someone else while LBG and him were at odds? Perhaps? And now he regrets it? No matter, it has happened before with (name of wives #23, #190 and #304) he can take whatever comes.

Nothing happens.

It's driving LBG crazy.

So he tries to force SY to confess, he engineers a kidnapping or something to force him to sell LBG away to his enemies. To spill a secret, anything! In the end things get out of hand and whoever LBG hired turns against him.

SY realizes what's happening mid kidnap and groans. WHY. WHY DEAR HUSBAND? THIS IS SO TRITE?? He told him he wasn't mad!! Is he really trying to gotcha! Him?? Unbelievable.

Many things happen after that.

SY is forced to drink poison that makes his spiritual energy lethal to demons. And LBG'S human cultivation is sealed, so only his demon side is active. The thing is, the poison can eventually kill whoever drinks it if they don't pass it away, even if they're human, the corrosion turns on them. LBG tries to take the tainted spiritual energy for himself. But SY absorbs it, willing it to kill him quicker, not taking any chances. And calls LBG silly and rash, and LBG realizes SY knows they're in this situation because of him. And bursts out crying.

SY kisses him, tells him he forgives him, and he better believe him this time, huh?

SY dies.

LBG tries to revive him in the holy mausoleum but every time the soul enters SY's body the poison kills him again. The poison kills LBG'S blood mites, too. It has fused with Shen Yuan's cells, a product of him absorbing it, and now his body is unable to live longer than what it takes for Shen Yuan to take a first and last breath.

LBG traps SY's soul inside a locket and carries him everywhere. Touches it constantly to make sure it was there. The gesture both familiar and confusing until he remembers he once had a mother who'd gifted him a pendant that he lost many, many decades ago.

How could he have forgotten it?

After years of desperation, he reads about the sun-moon dew mushroom. And when he goes searching for it, he realizes the realm merger killed off all the sun-moon dew mushroom seeds.

He crumbles.

And only then he finally understands his husband and why their marriage never worked.

Because LBG didn't actually love SY. He was possessive of him, yes, attracted to him. But he did not love him, he just used him to prove that other Luo Binghe he could have it all, an empire, an harem, and a Shen Qingqiu. (Shen Yuan, his name was Shen Yuan. He hated it when Luo Binghe called him Shizun, why did he keep insisting?)

Luo Bingge never loved Shen Yuan.

But Shen Yuan did love him.

He saw him for the beast he was and took him into his arms. Luo Bingge never had to prove himself to Shen Yuan, and no matter how he tried to hide the most shameful parts of him, Shen Yuan could see them clear as day, and loved him all the same.

He held Luo Bingge's flaws like something fragile, he protected them.

He didn't hold them over his head, like Luo Bingge would've done.

He didn't love him in spite of them, like his wives did.

Shen Yuan looked at the cruelest man in the world and, even after being subjected to Luo Bingge's cruelty, kept him close to his heart so the world didn't have the opportunity to make him crueler.

And Luo Bingge killed him.

And in that moment, when he finally was able to under his husband, Luo Bingge falls in love with Shen Yuan.

He came back to his palace and locked himself in his late husband's rooms, became mournful, lost interest in sex and food and bloodshed. Held that precious locket in his hands and wept.

Until one day, he began hearing Shen Yuan's voice. Faintly, as if far away. And then just as clear as if his husband whispered in his ear.

The locket had become cursed by harbouring a human soul for so long. But Shen Yuan never asked anything impossible of him, never tried to hurt him as any other cursed artifact would do.

He'd ask him to sleep, to please eat. To cook, doesn't he love to cook? Why don't you try again? He'd say, "Ah, Binghe, look up! That's a Silver Blood Hummingbird ! Oh, I thought they were extinct, isn't it beautiful?"

And Luo Bingge with only a voice for company, the love of a man he could not touch, would finally find the peace that eluded him his entire life. He'd understand that other inferior Luo Binghe, and he'd abandon his palace, leave his empire in disarray no matter how much Shen Yuan nagged at him to "take responsibility!"

He'd search for creatures and plants that went extinct after he so thoughtlessly united the realms. He'd find some, hidden away in small pockets of space, untouched by his sword. Some still thriving in hidden realms. And he'd hear as his husband excitedly tells him all there's to know about them. He'd cook and set an extra plate, let Shen Yuan guide him until he finally learned to play the guqin, an opportunity he was robbed of many years ago.

And one day, hidden from the world and greedy hands, he'd find a grove filled with thriving sun-moon dew mushrooms.

#this went from haha. what if lbg can't handle a sy sqq? what if he's too high maintenance even for him haha #to haha what if sy died haha #sy: did you just... Binghe did you just pokémon me??? Binghe????? what the hell??????#bingyuan #svsss #luo bingge #shen yuan #mip

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targs-on-zorses · 2 months

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Sweet Favours

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower/Lady-in-Waiting!Reader Warnings - Nice, hot smut, mild choking, fingering, some riding, gwayne being cocky, a little bit of fluff, tourneys and jousting, a little bit of blood, reader is not described in any detail other than being of House Mullendore of Uplands Summary - “If I might request a favour, my lady.” “Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight.” “Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.” Word count: 4732

A/N - Wow. I genuinly cannot believe I have finished this. I started it not long after Ser Gwayne Hightower graced our screens, and it is now, what? two? three weeks later? I would like to thank my hype-people: @thenameswinter99 whose reactions to my tiny excerpts made my day, @barbieaemond, Liv my partner in crime who has assisted in fanning the flames with this fic, and @just-some-random-blogger. We will continue to torture you with gifs. Accept it. This is your life now. And also to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta reading. Dividers are mine own. It is possible there will be a part 2. (the fic will be up on AO3 shortly. Use the link in my masterlist)

Good weather for a tourney, you thought. Nary a cloud in the sky, the bright sun beating down on the cobblestone path leading to the arena. The sounds of blades being sharpened and hammers striking on metal. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. It had been some years since Oldtown had hosted a tourney of its own. But now, the seats had been cleaned, the lords box furnished. Bunting linked building to building along the narrow streets of Oldtown.

It had been some years since you, as lady-in-waiting to Lady Lynesse Hightower, had last attended a tourney. You peeked out of the carriage, watching as people streamed towards the arena, some carrying flags in every shape and colour.

A raven had arrived from Kings Landing a month ago, bearing the news that the Queen, Alicent Hightower, cousin of your lord, had given birth to another son, Aemond Targaryen. Lord Ormund had decided to host a tourney in his honour, although none of the royals, nor their immediate vassals, were able to make it.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the stadium. You stepped out of the carriage, graciously accepting the hand of the squire waiting, lifting your skirts to keep them out of the dirt on the streets. Your lady followed behind you.

A handsome young knight stood at the entrance. You smiled, admiring his pleasant features, the warm blue eyes, the bow shaped lips, soft golden hair.

“Good morrow, cousin,” Lady Hightower greeted.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” the knight responded. “Perfect day for a joust, is it not?”

“It is,” Lady Lynesse concurred. “I wish you luck, good cousin, at the lists.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

Ser Gwayne bowed, stepping aside to let the lady pass.

As you passed him yourself, curtseying briefly, he put out a hand to stop you.

“A moment, Lady Mullendore.”

You followed him inside, cloistered in a hidden alcove right by the doors.

“If I might request a favour, my Lady.” He had that grin on his face that suggested his thoughts were anything but innocent. Not that the way he said ‘my Lady’ had you thinking innocent thoughts either, as you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight?” you said, smiling sweetly.

“Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.”

“Oh, you are most bold, good ser,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks redden at his words. And that little smirk that he always seemed to have plastered on his face. Seven save you, you loved that smirk.

A small group of people squeezed past the opening you were concealed in. So you stretched up, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Then you turned away to rejoin your lady.

A hand grasped your arm, pulling you back into the shadows.

“Gwayne!” you chastised. “I must return to my-”

His hand snaked around your waist, tugging you up against his body. A single finger lifted your chin, angling your face towards his, and he stared hungrily at your lips. He bit his lip, moving his hand to grasp your chin, running a thumb over your parted lips.

“Not that sort of kiss,” he whispered, seductively.

Then his lips were on yours. This was no gentle kiss, like the ones exchanged so early in the mornings. Sweet it was not. He pulled your face to his, pushing his tongue into your mouth. His hand tightened at your waist.

Your hands stretched up, tangling themselves in his soft, golden hair. Your heart pounded in time to the movements of his tongue. He tasted of the sweet wine he liked, probably drinking small amounts to calm his nerves before the joust.

He pushed forwards, backing you into a wall, completely devouring your mouth., pressing the evidence of his own arousal into your thigh. A moan escaped you. Seven save you, this kiss…

He pulled away abruptly, swiping his thumb over your lips again before departing with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He vanished so quickly, it took a moment for your body and mind to catch up. You raised a hand to your lips, remembering the passionate way he claimed them.

Voices sounded just outside, and you remembered where you were.

Lady Hightower would be looking for you. You could only pray she had no idea what you had just been doing. You straightened your skirts and hair as best you could, and made your way to the Lords’ box overlooking the arena.

“Where have you been?” she snapped as you hurriedly entered and found your seat.

“My apologies, my lady,” you muttered, but she had already looked away.

You sat in the front row. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, you did not yet know.

From here, you could see everything. You would be able to see if he was hurt. Or killed.

You did not want to dwell on it.

The knights paraded and preened. You knew half of them were not worth the armour they wore.

“The Tyrells sent a measly bunch,” Lady Lynesses muttered to another lady. You did not disagree.

“Hmm, it does not look like we will have much entertainment, my Lady,” another woman said.

You ignored them and watched as the jousts commenced. However, they were not wrong.

In the very first tilt, a young Tyrell squire not only knocked his opponent off his horse, but himself as well. Later, a Blackbar knight cuffed himself round the head with his own mace.

A measly lot indeed.

A brief lunch of venison was served. No sign of any of those veteran knights yet, though.

By the afternoon, you were bored. The morning had been relatively uneventful, lunch equally so. You were eager for the new round of tilts to begin. And to see who would be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty.

A few unimpressive knights rode out, bashing each other.

Finally, he rode out, sat proud atop that big black horse of his. His helmet was off, tucked under his arm, letting his golden hair shine in the sunlight. He held his lance in the other hand, meaning all that kept him on that horse were those strong thighs of his. You flushed, thinking of how it felt to have those thighs under you as you rode him into oblivion.

He rode twice around the arena, scanning the crowds. His eyes searched for you. Finally, he stopped in front of the box, beckoning you over with a movement of his head. You stood to lean against the barrier keeping you from falling onto the sand below.

“May I ask that you grant me your favour, Lady Mullendore?” he said, a graceful smile dancing across his face. You did not see the sour look Lady Hightower directed at you.

“Unfortunately, good ser, my favour is only given to those who will win,” you teased.

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I will win this tourney, then, my Lady,” he assured.

You giggled, taking your favour from the arm of your chair. He tilted his lance towards you and you dropped the favour along its length. He nodded his head in thanks and rode off again.

He prepared himself for the first tilt, putting on his silly helmet - you always giggled when he wore it.

His opponent prepared himself similarly, some knight of House Florent. A cousin, perhaps?

You held your breath as they charged towards each other. You knew Gwayne had been injured previously in jousts. He was well now, but still, you worried.

You wanted to look away, but you could not tear your gaze away from these two men, charging towards each other, lances held at the ready.

There was a crack, and the Florent knight went flying off his horse, landing with his legs at strange angles on the ground.

Gwayne rode a victory lap as the young knight was carried off to the maester’s tent.

As his next opponent struggled to get on his horse, Gwayne nodded to you, promising you victory.

He unhorsed every opponent he faced with practised ease. Downing the ones that dared to try for victory on the ground. He certainly was bashed a few times, almost, almost, downed from his horse at others. But today it seemed the Gods themselves too had blessed him with their favour.

The final tilt, however, you would deny you were terrified. For now he faced your own uncle, Ser Paxton Mullendore, a hardened veteran of many a battle and many a tourney. In fact, he was near undefeated, and would tell anyone who would listen that the only man to successfully unhorse him had been Daemon Targaryen at the Heirs Tourney some years ago. Gwayne too had been there, and Daemon too had unhorsed him.

Suffice to say, you feared for him.

You could see Ser Paxton glaring at him, and the favour on his lance. He knew it was yours, and he was displeased.

Ser Paxton pulled down his visor and charged. Gwayne too. You gripped the hands of your chair tightly, hardly daring to breathe.

The crash of lance on shield. Gwayne barely clung to his horse, his lance in pieces.

They went in for a second charge.

Another crash.

This time it was Ser Paxton who fell. He immediately called for his sword. His pride would not allow Gwayne to win so easily. In fact, he often boasted of how he was better with his sword than atop a horse. Ser Paxton wielded a mighty mace, the sort of one you had seen bend swords and smash armour such that it looked as though a dragon had landed on their chests.

You clung tighter to the decorative arms of your chair, eyes wide and fearful.

Gwayne did not notice, still holding his shield, arms wide and savouring his victory.

Paxton swung his mace.

“Gwayne!” you screamed. He turned to find a mace flying towards his head and ducked at the last moment.

Your relief was short-lived, as Paxton swung again, shattering Gwayne’s shield to splinters, your brave knight falling to the floor.

He dodged again and again, crawling towards the wooden barrier in the middle.

As Paxton smashed through the fence, Gwayne stuck his foot out, tripping up the large, mace-wielding man.

Ser Paxton fell to the ground unmoving. You gasped, staring in horror even as the crowd cheered. Even Gwayne was concerned, his fingers digging through the neck piece, trying to find a pulse.

Suddenly, Paxton jerked, sitting up. You breathed a sigh of relief. He and Gwayne seemed to talk for a moment before the latter pulled the former to his feet.

You smiled and clapped, overjoyed that both were alive.

Gwayne helped your uncle to the maesters, before mounting his horse once again for a victory lap. He was handed back his lance, now adorned with the wreath of yellow roses, the colours of House of Tyrell, their overlords.

He galloped twice around again, the ladies whispering to themselves, “Who will he choose?” He finally stopped in front of you, angling his lance such that the wreath slid down into your lap.

Suddenly, every eye was on you. Murmurs spread around the stadium. Gwayne still sat atop his horse below you, giving a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.

You ignored the hiss of displeasure from Lady Hightower, and raised the flower crown, placing it on your head. The crowd cheered and clapped, and Ser Gwayne bowed before riding away to have his own wounds seen to.

The tourney over, the audience gathered themselves and prepared to leave.

You rushed off, partly to avoid whatever withering words the other ladies-in-waiting had to say to you, but mostly to avoid the wrath of Lady Lynesse Hightower. The look on her face as you had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty was one you hoped to never see again.

You had arrived in Oldtown at ten, ready to serve Lady Lynesse as a lady-in-waiting. But from the moment you were introduced to her by your father, Lord Mullendore, she had shown nothing but contempt that bordered on hatred for you.

When your father presented you, she had her nose up at you and said, “Well, I was not expecting her to be so… plain. I was told you were a great beauty. Perhaps you will grow into one.”

But, according to her, you could do nothing right. In the halls of the Hightower, you were alone and friendless. The other ladies followed Lynesse’ lead and scorned you. You missed your home, Uplands. You missed your family, your father, your mother, your brothers, and uncle Paxton, although he visited often. You sought companionship in the books in Oldtown’s many libraries. You engrossed yourself in the history and giggled as you read books like A Caution for Young Girls as you read it in the privacy of your chambers.

It was when you were eight-and-ten that you attracted the attention of Ser Gwayne Hightower, your Lady’s cousin and the son of King Viserys’ Hand.

Initially, you had waved it off as just some silly pacing fancy, after all, knights had that all the time. After all, as your lady said, cruelly, “What man could possibly want such a plain girl as you?”

But he was honest in his interest, and the two of you began to court, secretly of course. Lady Hightower would have a fit, and she was most fond of suggesting other women for him, though he always refused.

It was on the night of your twentieth name day that he took you into his bed. He was careful, and gentle, and everything you had imagined and more. The both of you knew Lady Hightower would never let you wed, so these stolen, secret moments were all you had.

You loved him, you knew it. How could you not when he was gentle, and kind, and every bit the knight he was painted to be?

What you did not know, however, was if he felt the same about you. He may call you, “my love,” but that was not the same.

You quietly made your way to Gwayne’s chambers. It would not do if you were caught together. Lady Hightower would use it as an excuse to get rid of you. It simply was not worth the same and disgrace that would fall on your family.

Today, he had already gone too far. You intended to tell him as much. Kissing you just before the tourney in an alcove where anyone could’ve peeked in and seen you? Crowning you Queen of Love and Beauty in front of thousands?

Perhaps, though, you would scold him after you lay with him. As dangerous as that kiss was, it had left you unsatisfied and wanting for more. And it would butter him up and make him more agreeable to slowing down.

You walked in, expecting to find the room empty, only to see Gwayne standing with his back to the door, sipping some wine. You spotted his armour peeking out of a chest to the side of the wine table.

He turned as the door closed, his eyes darkening as he beheld the low dress you wore. You had been tugging it down as you made your way here.

He was still wearing his green woollen tunic that he wore under his armour. The buckles were undone, as was the loose linen shirt he wore under that.

He took another sip of wine, tilting his head as he admired you. He placed the glass back on the table, and took a step towards you.

You were withering under his heated gaze, but you stood firm. He liked to tease. Now it was your turn.

“I was going to wait for you,” you said, the corners of your plush lips lifting flirtatiously. “I was thinking I’d lay naked in your bed.”

Gwayne smirked. “Such a shame, then, that I’m already here. It would have been a most delectable sight to behold.”

That way he said delectable, pronouncing every syllable, had you biting your lip an effort not to moan. A wave of need coursed through you..

He stepped towards you again, still giving you that smirk that made you want to rip your clothes off and let him give you exactly what you longed for.

“Perhaps I’ll leave and come back later, leave early from the feast,” you whispered, all desire to tease rushing out of you. You did not know how much longer you could keep this up.

“It would be a shame if you had to walk all the way back down, leaving me here alone and wanting for you,” he rasped, his voice going deep with desire.

“Like the way you left me earlier.” You tried not to moan as you felt his breath on your neck.

“Would you touch yourself while naked in my bed?” he hummed, a hand ghosting over your cheek. “Would you pleasure yourself, imagining that it was my cock that brought you to peak?”

You no longer knew words. Seven save you from this man and his vile tongue that made you feel nothing but insatiable lust.

“And would I then arrive, finding you covered in a sheen of sweat, and then would I plunge myself inside your sweet cunt until the only thing you can remember is my name?”

You let out a whine at his words. He teased you relentlessly, barely touching you. You reached out to grasp his solid arms, trying to pull him closer. You wanted him to touch you, badly.

“Gwayne,” you whine, the heated tension becoming unbearable.

“Yes, sweet lady?” he says, licking his lips. “Is it all too much, this teasing? Not unlike the way you have teased me all day wearing a dress such as this.” He tugs on the laces on the front of your dress making you gasp. “What is it, my love?” he says as he ghosts his lips over your neck again. You let out an aching whine. You were desperate for him to do anything, anything but keep on talking. “What? You want me to stop?” he says. Yes. You wanted him to stop teasing you with his filthy words. You wanted him to push you on his bed and strip you of your restrictive clothing. You wanted him to fuck you mercilessly until all you know is his cock. He chuckled darkly, seeing your pained expression. “Look at you, so needy.” You whimpered again. He finished unlacing your gown, finding you wearing no corset or smallclothes underneath it. You gulped, feeling the sensitive tips of your breasts brush against the cloth of your dress with every breath. “Oh, you naughty lady, wearing nothing under such a dress.”

You give up. You can’t take it anymore. You need to touch him. You need him to touch you. You grab his face between your hands and pull it to yours. The kiss is messy and filthy, and oh so terribly brief. He pushed you off him, holding your face between his hands, panting just as wildly as you. You whined desperately, straining to pull him back

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growled.

Then he pounced. He tore the dress off your shoulder letting your breasts free. He gripped your face and pulled your lips back together. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet. You shimmied out of your dress, leaving yourself bare. He cupped his hands around your behind, squeezing as he lifted you up and spread your legs around his waist. You ground against his clothed cock, sighing into his mouth as little sparks of bliss shot through you.

He carried you to the bed, divesting himself of his tunic, still continuing his relentless assault of your mouth. He withdrew gently, a stark contrast to the violent way he had kissed you, resting his forehead on yours.

“Touch me,” you whispered, tugging at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off.

He ignored your tugs, and latched his lips to the peak of your breast, as his hand worked its way between your legs, gently brushing your pearl. You moaned loudly, fingers clenching the silk sheet beneath. His fingers were pure heaven. You pulled again at his shirt, as his fingers entered your cunt, opening you up for him, skillfully brushing the spot inside you that made you keen. You clutched his arms, your nails digging into the flesh leaving angry red marks.

“Fuck, my love, you feel so good and wet,” he panted, trailing hot, wet kisses to your neck. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sweet lady.”

And you did. You rode them, broken moans and whimpers spilled out of you. Your peak washed over you quickly, his fingers pumping in and out of you, drawing it out.

He didn’t give you long to recover from the intensity of your peak. He allowed you to pull his shirt off, revelling in the pale expanse of muscle, and the few scars that litter his chest and stomach. You pressed a few kisses to the ones on his chest before he pushed you back down and started untying his breeches.

“Keep yourself wet for me, sweet lady. Touch yourself.”

You moaned, doing as he says and letting your fingers gather up the wetness from your centre, preparing yourself for him.

He pushed his breeches down revealing his beautiful cock, hard and red. You took your hand, slick with your juices and pumped him a few times. But when you went to put it inside, he stopped you, sitting up further, leaving his cock far away from where you craved to sheethe it.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted. “Only good, sweet ladies get to be fucked. Have you been good, sweet lady?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Please, Gwayne, please, I've been good.”

He continued to stroke his cock, right in front of you. You groaned. He so loved to torment you like this. “Have you? Really?”

“I've been good, Ser. Please, let me have your cock, Ser!” You babbled, delirious with need, your hands reaching out for him.

“Hmm, I suppose you have been,” He said, and suddenly leaned forward and slid his cock into your drenched cunt.

You moaned in unison. The walls of your cunt stretched to accommodate him. Gwayne was by no means large, but he always seemed to fill you up perfectly. It was heaven, finally having him inside.

He gave you a moment to adjust, waiting for you to nod that you were comfortable, before he seized a hand, holding it above your head and pounded into you, mercilessly.

Your breasts bounced, brushing your sensitive nipples on his chest. Wanton moans spilled out of you now. Every thrust of his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

“That's it,” he whispered into your ear, lightly biting the flesh below it. “You feel so good, my dear, squeezing my cock like that.”

All coherent words had left you, and you could only babble in agreement.

“Gods you feel so good, such a sweet, wet little cunt.”

Your moans grew louder, and you clung hard to his shoulders. You probably left nail marks in his back, but you were too lost in your pleasure to care.

The walls of your cunt fluttered, signifying that you were close. Your moans became louder and higher in pitch.

“That's it, sweetness,” Gwayne grunted, shifting so he could watch your face as you came. “Come for me, right on my cock.”

He brought a hand between you, rubbing your pearl.

Your walls clenched around him as you screamed, you back arching.

He wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you down as he fucked you through your peak, his own quickly following as he spilled inside you.

He collapsed on the bed next to you.

You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath. You rolled over to look at him. He never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and chest. His bow shaped lips were parted. His chest heaved.

You loved him. There was nothing else. You loved how he looked in the moments after.

You lay on your sides, facing each other. Your hands entwined as you stared deep into each other's eyes. His were blue, like the sea, and always glinted with mischief.

“I have something for you,” he rasped. His voice was always delightfully husky after you fucked. You loved it, and the way it left you wanting for more.

“Gwayne,” you sighed, “we can’t.”

This was a rule established early on, no gifts to be exchanged, and today, he’d already broken it, gifting you the flower crown.

“No one will know it was from me,” he insisted. You took one look at his pouty face, his eyes wide and pleading. He knew how to make you melt, and melt you did. He just looked so sad, like a puppy pleading for pets.

“Fine,” you conceded.

He smiled wide, and rolled over to grab something from the bedside table. He brought out a box. It was wide and flat, covered in green leather with silver hinges and clasp.

You sat up a little, leaning on your elbow, and took the box from him.

You opened the box and gasped. Inside was the most exquisite necklace you’d ever seen.

The shape of it reminded you of how the beacon on the Hightower looked when alight. Green emeralds the size of your thumbs arranged in three seven pointed stars connected to a chain of intricate silver swirls. The two stars on either side of the middle contained a ruby at their hearts, while the centre one, and the larger of the three, framed a diamond, larger than any you had ever seen.

“Oh, Gwayne, it’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “Let me help you put it on, my love.”

You turned slightly, lifting your hair as he clasped it around your neck. You turned back to look at him, adjusting the way it lay across your chest.

“Hmm,” he hummed, openly staring at the way the centre charm sat right between your breasts, pointing downwards. “I think I rather like it too.”

You giggled, trying to ignore the heat that spread through your body at his words, and his gaze. You could now understand why it was designed the way it was.

“I think I’d like to fuck you wearing that necklace,” he said. “Hmm, perhaps I’d like you to ride me, so I can watch it bounce on those pretty breasts of yours.”

You bit your lip at his filthy words, heat already pooling in your gut.

He gripped your hips, and you squealed as he lifted you onto his thighs, cock half hard already.

He plunged his hand between your legs, groaning at the feeling of your wetness.

“Ride me, my sweet lady,” he commanded.

You gave his cock a good few pumps, before you sunk down, moaning at the stretch. His hands dug into your hips as you began to move, circling your hips.

You went slowly at first. Gwayne seemed to groan in frustration at your pace. You grinned, knowing how much you teased him now.

“I do not think this is quite riding me, sweet lady,” Gwayne grunted beneath you. He smacked your behind, the sharp pain and pleasure of it making you cry out. “Come now, love, ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock and let me watch those gorgeous sweet tits of yours.”

You did as he commanded, quickening your pace and truly fucking yourself on him.

Your tits bounced, the necklace clinking with the movement. You moaned, relishing in the way his cock felt.

He reached his hand up, cupping your bouncing breasts and letting your vigorous movements rub your sensitive nipples on his thumb.

Your walls clenched around him. Your peak was approaching, fast.

“That's it, love,” he groaned. “Fuck!”

You threw your head back as your peak washed over you, your pace stuttering as you attempted to ride him through it.

He gripped your hips and rutted into you, a fourth peak closing in so soon after the last.

You peaked, feeling his seed coat the walls of your cunt as you screamed his name and collapsed on his chest.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower smut #gwayne x reader smut #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne smut #hotd smut #hotd x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #gwayne hightower

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temis-de-leon · 3 months

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He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Lucifer and Mammon (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Main Masterlist

CW: very OOC since they'd never reject you to begin with, but hey, that's why it's a nightmare

A/N: the rest of the brothers, as well as the dateables, will have their own part too, but I'm writing the requests and the fics for the 500 followers event at the same time, so everything will take some time <3

Lucifer – You weren’t his first choice

Under the fear and the mistrust, you showed a clear interest in him since the beginning.

He couldn’t blame you; he was handsome, after all, and he knew his attitude was attractive to most.

And while he found you beautiful as well, you meddled too much in his family’s business and your defiance to him only felt irritable.

You were a nuisance. A threat to his Lord’s wishes.

He made sure to keep you at arms’ length except the few times he felt the need to threaten you.

Surprisingly, the more you forced him to know you, the more he couldn’t say no.

Your shared time turned enjoyable and you soon started to hang out in his office late at night or, if you were an early riser like him, in the morning during breakfast.

He should’ve expected your romantic feelings towards him, something he saw before you had the chance to tell him. The way you looked at him or blushed when he paid you attention, how you searched for his presence more and more.

He rejected you before you could even talk to him about it.

It was brutal, in a way, cold and straight to the point. He didn’t bother to pour his heart into his apology.

He had his duties to Lord Diavolo, to his family and the kingdom.

The attraction he felt for you, the love that could’ve been, wasn’t enough for him to stay.

There were two types of pain in his chest when he woke up: the pressure in his sternum caused by the sharp edge of the desk and the sting in his heart from the hurt in your eyes.

He didn’t do that, did he?

He accepted you, he accepted your love with open arms, gave his in return. Lucifer could remember the smile in your first kiss just as much as the sincerity in your voice each time you reminded him the depth of your feelings. He always opened his ribcage like you would with a book to show his reciprocation.

Staring at his paperwork in horror, the pool of saliva slowly drying under his distress, Lucifer searched for memories that could prove the existence of your relationship. Your weight on his lap, your scent in his clothes, the last message you sent him, the last time he treated you on a date.

When was that?

How many days ago?

Weeks? Months??

His fingers trembled when he pushed his hair back and he knew the sting in his eyes wasn’t due to fatigue. Now gasping, eyes wide open in panic, he got up and paced around the room, the false reality of his dreams thankfully fading away and letting him see himself pouring two drinks while you stared at him in adoration, setting you on top of the table to kiss you carelessly or letting you drag him out of the office for a good night sleep.

“Dear Diavolo” he mustered to himself, taking his coat off and letting it fall to the ground before breathing deeply. “How stupid… Stupid…”

Although not entirely, the embarrassment of suffering such despair for a nightmare washed the panic away, making him thank everything that would listen that none of his brothers were there to witness his fear and desperation.

It was the last thing he needed.

However, still hating the oneiric sight of your heartbreak, Lucifer refused to stay in the office. Reading official documents and signing them with his beautifully practised handwriting seemed like proper torture now and he knew that going back to his work would only give him more suffering dreams.

Would you hug him for the rest of the night if he asked or would you rather have the roles reversed, as it usually was? Oh, what he would do to feel your fingers through his hair and your heartbeat under his cheek. He’d stay awake forever if that meant never letting you go the way he did in his dream.

Mammon – He wouldn’t admit the truth

He thought so lowly of you during your first week in the Devildom that once he caught feelings, admitting them was simply mortifying.

The second born, Avatar of Greed, falling in love with a human? It was embarrassing at best and pathetic at worst.

Yet, he followed you every step of the way. Going to classes, to the cafeteria, back to the house once the day was over...

As days went by, he even spent more time in your room than his; watching a movie, taking a nap, studying or just hanging out.

And when he wanted to do something else? Something more… illegal and underground?

Oh, you followed. You followed him just as blindly as he followed you.

It was painful, yet wonderful.

How full his chest felt whenever you smiled or even looked at him, the complicity in your conversations, the comfortable silence you shared.

The quiet sobs that closed his throat each time he insulted you because he accidentally showed too much of himself, the horrifying emptiness of his room that engulfed him when you finally had enough and wouldn’t let him visit you out of the blue anymore.

Your feelings for him were as clear as the ones he had for you, but none of them were spoken about.

Yours came and went, first hopeful and then neglected.

His stayed.

He still followed, you just didn’t look back anymore.

He woke up crying, body hyperventilating and sweating and mind still in the horror that his dream had created.

He recognized the sheets as the ones from his bed, but everything else looked blurry and too dark to pay attention to. However, Mammon could feel the spot next to him still warm and the silhouette of your figure was visible on the mattress. A quick glance at the door and the lights of the bathroom shining through helped set his heart in a steady pace.

You were there with him, unavailable for just a couple of minutes, but soon to return to the comfort of his arms. Your clothes were mixed with his on the sofa, he was charging his DDD with your charger because his was in your room.

Even if it was hard to say out loud, Mammon loved you too much to ever let you go, as did you.

There was no possibility of that nightmare ever being real.

“Did I wake you up?”

There you stood, above him, hair completely dishevelled, eyes half closed, either from grogginess or the temporary blindness from light exposure, and hands reaching out for him. Your fingers intertwined with his as soon as they found each other and your lips slowly came down to clumsily kiss the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” he softly laughed, quickly forgetting about the nightmare.

“Shut up, I can’t even see you”

He could only observe in tenderness and relief as you climbed over him, ignoring your side of the bed in favour of his entire torso, but, just when you were settling in, you licked your lips and stared at him, even if you weren’t entirely able to see.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No, I’m not” he immediately answered in a defensive stance, blushing in embarrassment.

How could you know being blind as a mole?? Did you taste his tears when you kissed him?

“Mammon”

You tried to look serious, but the exhaustion betrayed you, turning your glare into a pout. He could’ve laughed at you, and he would’ve in any other situation, but the feeling of being too late to freely love you still crushed his heart and the only thing he wanted to do was to keep you close and hope you were still there by morning.

“I’m not crying” he insisted, this time in a softer tone.

That seemed to reach whatever was left of your consciousness, so you finally let your head fall on top of his chest to continue your slumber, talking one last time only to say what he needed to hear the most.

“I love you, Mams”

“I love you too” he sighed.

He’d tell you again once you were awake. And once more after that, just to make sure.

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prythianpages · 9 months

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A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps.

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder.

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact.

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and polished wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness.

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could.

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away.

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake.

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake.

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before gracefully flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the delicate fragrance surrounding you–a symphony of floral notes. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions becomes a mesmerizing dance, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes ready to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation: “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.”

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the brief darkening of your eyes and the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away. He doesn’t deserve you.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the delicate stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating in a joyful dance. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him. A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A gentle breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a delicate constellation of possibilities.

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face. Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile graces his lips.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching. Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood. Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance.

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

“We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion.

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add: “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away.

“Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen.

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he��s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

“This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him.

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved.

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“I only wished for you to be mine.” He says, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x you #az!dandelions

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ybklix · 5 months

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

#lee felix smut #skz smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #felix x you #lee felix x reader #kpop smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz #skz felix #felix hard thoughts #𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹

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mischieveousmayhem · 5 months

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Hi! I've been following your writing for a bit now, and I really like your style of writing. There's a sort of flow to it. Anyways, I was wondering if you could write a Bruce Wayne x Batmom! Reader. Where Damian clings to Batmom a lot and it's so obvious he loves her more than he loves Bruce. So Batmom overhears Bruce paying Damian like a large amount of money to not interrupt their date? I think this would be really cute, and it's okay if you can't write it. And thank you so much in advance! <3

Bribes

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader, Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

Genre: Fluff (?)

Warnings: Characters may be out of character, reader is shorter than Bruce Wayne, jealousy

Synopsis: Will Bruce ever get a moment with you?

It happens a lot, almost too often. Every moment Bruce thinks he has alone with you , he doesn't.

The first time was when Damian started getting comfortable with you.

You and Bruce were in your bedroom, limbs entangled, just enjoying each other's presence in the dark, cold room. The only warmth was your bodies and the blankets.

Bruce was enjoying this, he was enjoying you. You guys had all boys, and oh lord were they mama's boys who needed you for all simple. Thank god he didn't have to worry about Damian turning into one like his brothers. At least Bruce thought.

There was a knock on the door.

"Go away." Bruce's voice booms.

You move from the position you and Bruce were in and you sit up.

"You can come in, Damian." You say.

It was quite obvious it was Damian, your boys all knocked on the door differently. Damians seemed more hesitant.

Damian walked in coming to your side of the bed. Bruce stares blankly , and confused on how the hell you knew it was Damian.

"Y/N , I had a nightmare can I sleep here?"

"N—" Bruce started.

"I was asking Y/N. Not you." Damian cuts him off. He sure was Bruces child.

"Of course, love." You smiled as the boy climbed in between you and a grumpy Bruce.

—

Another time it happened was when you and Bruce had a Gala to go to but the boys were gonna stay home.

However, he couldn't find you anywhere in sight to be found. Until he walked into the living room to find you and Damian cuddled under a blanket.

Damian leaned back on you with you rubbing his hair until he spots his father and he immediately jumps up acting like his mother wasn't just giving him affection he craved.

"Y/N, why aren't you dressed. We have that Gala tonight." Bruce raised a brow at you as he stood in front of you in his tuxedo that he looked EXTREMELY handsome in.

You give him a nervous smile, "Well about that," You raised up a thermometer, "Damian is feeling a bit under the weather so I will stay here with him while you attend."

Damian did a fake cough while smirking at his father. His face out of your vision you couldn't see the smirk.

Bruce squinted at Damian. He wasn't going to rat out his son to you because at least Damian warmed up to you and even then you wouldn't believe Bruce.

—

The last straw was when Bruce found Damian taking his favorite thing to do with you.

Every evening you would sit in the garden. It was labeled your bench because the boys always saw you out there on it no matter the weather.

One of your quiet places, you just sit out and read, crochet or some other peaceful activity until Bruce comes out. You two watch the sunsets every evening together and it was just a romantic, wholesome moment.

That is why when Bruce came outside to the garden to see Damian in his mother's arms he almost lost it.

Bruce wanted to be in your arms and Damian should not be there at all.

"Room for one more?" Bruce speaks.

This time Damian doesn't move out of your arms for his father has seen him like this multiple times and he just doesn't want his brothers to spot him being babied in his mother's arms.

"Sorry dear, there is only enough room for two people on this bench. You can come tomorrow." You look back and smile almost guilty.

Unfortunately tomorrow never came, because everyday Damian would beat Bruce to your arms on the bench.

—

All those events lead up to now. Bruce sitting Damian down to have a talk before you and Bruce went out for a date that Bruce has been looking forward to.

"I've noticed you spend a lot of time with Y/N." Bruce spoke to Damian.

"Ummi and I are just having normal mother-son time." Damian speaks.

Bruce furrows his eyebrows, "Yeah..whatever."

"Great! Conversation ended." Damian was about to get up till Bruce stopped him.

"You are not to sabotage this date." Bruce says.

"I'm not going to sabotage it but I am starting to feel a little sick." Damian smirked.

"Do not fake sick, I will pay you a million dolla—" Bruce was about to give Damian a bribe until he heard your laughter from the doorway and his face dropped.

"You two are really something." You place your hands on your hips after you stop laughing.

The two just stare at you waiting for you go finish what you are going to say.

"Damian, if your sick Dick will be here to take care of you in a little but until then you have Alfred." She walks towards him and brings her hand to his cheek, cupping it, "I spend a lot of time with you Dami, it is time I give your father some attention."

Damian melts into your touch, nodding. You were right, he had been spending a lot of time with you.

You then turn to Bruce, "As for you, you shouldn't have to bribe your son to not "sabotage" , our dates." You roll your eyes.

"I know, but we haven't had much time together lately." Bruce comes towards you.

When he's in-front of you, you look up while grabbing his forearms.

"I know, that's why tonight it will only just be us. I promise." Your eyes glimmer as you speak those words to him.

He was about to lean down to kiss you till Damian gets up and runs out the room yelling, "GET A ROOM!!"

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blossomingmoonlight · 3 months

Text

⭑ This is more than a sick love story (Pt.2) ⭑

Part 2 to; "The ballad of the raven and the dragon, Part 1.

Pairing: Benjicot ("Davos") Blackwood x targ!princess!reader

Summary: Returning home after that evening was harder than you thought, the risky letters don't help either. Would it really hurt to meet again?

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, +18, heavy yearning, sexting in medieval times, mastrubation, pillow humping, making out, grinding, handjob, oral both m and f receiving. And some fluff <3.

Word count: 3k

POV: Benjicot Blackwood

A mixture of iron and salt coats his tongue, the clashing of swords and screaming of men fills his ears. Yet another man's blood spraying over his face and garbs. House Bracken wanted revenge for their fallen men and when they heard of the princesses departure they made their move. Even Benjicot could taste the cowardice in their blood. At this point the battle could barely be called a battle anymore as house Bracken had already suffered heavy losses.

Benjicot couldn’t even keep up with the amount of Brackens he killed now, mind in a blur due to the adrenaline and violence. Even the cows didn’t survive. His men killed the remaining of the intruders and the battle was clearly won by house Blackwood. It had only been a week after the princess left and already his heart had a gaping hole which only could be filled by her. She promised she would write secretly, using ravens that would only ever make their way to him.

The sun began to set as they left the sea of bodies behind them, making their way back to Raventree Hall. Upon arrival the gods had clearly answered his prayers because just when he got off his horse and handed him to one of the stable boys a raven flew towards him. Quickly taking the letter he made his way to his only place of privacy, and just like everyday he passed the dining hall. His cock stiffens every time he’s in or passes that room now, memories of the intimacy he shared with the princess flooding his mind. He finally got to his bedchamber and locked the door behind him once inside. Benjicot didn’t even bother to clean himself first, he ripped the unmarked seal off the letter and rolled it open.

Dear B,

I hope you are well, I wrote this as soon as I got home but I suppose the raven will take a bit to get back to you. The whole way back I couldn’t stop thinking about your handsome face, or your hands tracing my body. You are and will be on my mind until I get to see you again, however the idea of maybe never meeting you again strikes fear into my heart. I never thought that that one evening with you would change me so. I was too afraid to tell you this in person but you are the most fearsome, handsome and astounding man I have ever met. We have to meet again, I would not survive without your touch. Even thinking about that evening now sets my chest aflutter and my thighs soaking. You don’t even understand how badly I need you again. I hope you think of me as well. I hope you use my chemise every night to get off to the thought of me. I have thought long and hard about a place we could meet. I think the Whispering Wood is perfect, it is near enough for you to sneak out to and I can easily hide my dragon along the coast of Iron Man Bay. I hope you write back to me soon.

Love, your pretty princess.

His mouth was still agape when there was a knock on his door. “My lord shall I draw a bath for you?” He could hear one of his servants' muffled voice. He rapidly stuffed the letter in his pocket, opened the door and let the servant do her work. Once the bath was drawn he dismissed the servant, he always washed himself since he never liked people just watching him be naked. With the door closing he removed the letter from his pocket and smelled. And like he suspected it smelt of ink, smoke and her perfume oil. Benjicot placed the letter on the small table beside the bath and swiftly removed his clothes. His cock already hard and leaking from reading the letter.

He got in the warm bath with a sigh, he thought for a moment and grabbed the letter from the table next to him. His eyes scanned the words again and he felt his poor weeping cock begging for attention, so he read the letter once again, now grazing his thumb over the leaking slit on the head of his hard member. A mixture of a hiss and groan leaving his lips, he was so horny he didn’t even care if someone heard him. His eyes never leaving the letter he started to roughly jerk off his cock, the words on the paper relighting the memories of their shameful evening.

His perverted mind only added fuel to the fire by imagining new scenarios with you, gods he’d fuck you on his bed, on his chair, on the settee, on the floor, against the wall, fuck even in the bath. The last image really spurred him on, moaning at the thought, he put the letter down for a moment to massage his seed filled balls as well as fisting his cock. Softly chanting your name through the room. “Please- please- fuck me- ride me baby just like that- ah fuck- I can’t-”

Seven Hells even his own dirty little words made the fantasy feel real. Your cunt enveloping his hard sensitive cock, water splashing everywhere as both your moans filled the room. He could feel the familiar knot starting to snap in his belly, he fetched the letter from beside him again, thrusted into his fist a few more times and released ropes of his seed all over your letter. The words blurring as his cum covered them. He panted and shuddered at the sight.

When Benjicot had calmed down from his orgasm he put the letter aside and now actually washed himself, even after he had dried himself off, had hidden the letter, and crawled into bed he still felt aroused. His cock hardening once again he knew his hand wouldn’t do so he threw the sheets of himself, removed his breeches and grabbed his pillow to position it just like he had you bend over the table.

He then grabbed his again leaking precum member and positioned it against the pillow, the texture on his angry red tip feeling like pure bliss, he started humping against the pillow wishing it was you on his bed instead. Fucking the pillow harder and harder he decided it was better to release in his hand instead. So with a cuss and loud moan he spurted his cum in his hand imagining it was your cunt he was filling instead. After having cleaned off his hand in a basin, pulling his breeches back on he could finally fall asleep.

The next morning he immediately fetched paper and ink and started on a letter to write you back, when he was pleased with it he sent it by raven and hoped it would fall into your hands. Afterwards getting on with his duties as lord of Raventree Hall.

Your POV:

A raven flew into the open window of Dragon Stone, the sun had set and you were in your chambers reading a book to your brother Joffrey. It had been two weeks since you sent that letter and you were beginning to get worried but relief washed over you at the sight of the raven. The second the raven landed on your settee you sent Joffrey back to his chambers guided by your handmaiden and told her that she was free for the night. She eyed you suspiciously but has always followed you loyally. When they left you grabbed the letter from the raven which flew away again and opened the unmarked seal, heart beating in your chest, you rolled the letter open.

My dear beloved,

Your raven arrived safely into my hands, I had to open it alone which proved to be needed because of your passionate writing. I am well unless you count the way in which you have plagued my mind. I can’t do any work without thinking, ‘what would my love think of this’ or ‘I wish my love could help me with this’. Seven hells, I can’t even walk in or pass my dining room anymore without my cock growing stiff in my pants. Any thought about you turns sinful, you have perverted me and turned me into a monster. Especially now without your touch. Last night when I read your letter, I read it in my bath. And you know what I did? I fucked my hand imagining it was your sweet cunt instead and when I reached my peak, I came all over your pretty handwriting. Your letter made me so horny I later fucked my pillow in bed too. So it is safe to say I need your touch too. So fucking badly. When you get this letter, try to leave as quickly as possible and head to our location. I will be waiting under the ruse of a solo hunting trip. Don’t make me wait too long my love.

Love your B.

You went to bed with an uncontrollable smile on your face, your skin hot and folds wet at the thought of seeing your Benji again. The next morning you told one of the servants to inform your mother about your “flight to patrol the sea” so you could actually quickly get dressed and leave on dragon back to the Whispering Wood. The entire flight you thought about how meeting him again would go. High above the clouds your mind floods with impure thoughts of Benjicot Blackwood. When you knew you were about to be close to the shore of Iron Man Islands you still stayed high but descended out of the clouds so you could see. And you were right, no one was in sight when you landed with your dragon on the shore.

So you began your pretty short walk to the Whispering Wood, nerves and excitement reeling through your body. Your walk through the Whispering Wood was different, anxiety started to take hold instead. What if he wasn’t able to come? What if someone caught you? However your fears began to ease when you could see the back of Benji’s hair and body who was standing near a small lake in the middle of the forest.

You walked as quietly as possible, wanting to surprise him. When you were near him you cupped your hands over his eyes and heard him laugh. He removed your hands and immediately turned around. He wasted no time crashing his lips on yours making you moan at his roughness. After some time he finally let go. “I have-” “I missed-” You both laughed at both of your attempts to speak first. So he started instead. “I am glad you got my letter, I can’t bear being without your touch and your voice any longer.” You smiled and a blush creeped onto your skin. “I couldn’t wait either. I don’t know what type of spell you casted on me but I don’t ever want to get rid of it.” He grinned at your words and took you in his arms once more.

“I don’t know if I can let you leave again. It would be too painful.” He confessed, holding your head against his chest with one hand and holding your waist with the other. “I don’t ever want to leave you again either but I don’t know how I would ever tell my family about this. And in the middle of a dragon war too.” He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head. “What did you tell them when you left?” Benji asked. “I told one of our servants to tell my mother that I went to patrol the seas, so I hope she bought it. I didn’t want to face her today.” You explained, your hands wrapping around him tighter.

Benji held your chin and made you look at him. He softly licked his lips before devouring yours again like he did mere minutes ago. Except now both of your desires were growing strong. You felt like you were in heat every time he touched you. He kissed you like it was his last day on earth. You had kissed before but this time it was different. Who knew when you would see each other again?

He bit your bottom lip so he could let his tongue enter your mouth. Your feverent kiss turned into a full make out as he sucked and licked your tongue. He couldn’t hold his own groan back and let his hand slide to your ass cheeks, which he gripped harshly to pull you against him just like he did on your special evening. Which earned him a moan from you as you grazed his teeth with your tongue. Never did you think a kiss could turn so ravenous. “Benji-” You gasped against his lips when his hand began to massage your ass harshly.

Making your two fronts grind against each other, his clothed already hard cock hitting your clothed wet cunt just right. He knew exactly what you liked and would do everything in his power to leave you shaking and trembling beneath his touch. “You want this fucking cock baby? You want it that fucking bad?” He pants against your lips, you could only moan a ‘please’ in response.

He removed himself from you and helped you remove your clothes, you had never seen him this touch starved. He was truly acting like an animal. Benji got on his knees in front of you and swung your right leg over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him so badly. Your cunt was throbbing and almost hurting from how aroused Ben made you, your slick already coating your inner thighs. Benji held you steady and began to lap at your soaked folds, moaning at the taste of your sweet arousal.

“Benji- please- I can’t take it-” Your want for him made you more sensitive than normal and all you could think about was how good his tongue was fucking you. It was so warm and wet and the way he used it to lap at your clit made you see stars. He took it a step further and entered a finger into your tight hole. It slipped in with ease and Benji grunted at the feeling, his own cock feeling tight in his breeches.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to take hold of you, with the way he was fingering you and sucking and lapping at your clit, made you dizzy. You could only let out gasps and moans, your entire vocabulary being thrown out the window. With one last scream of his name he let go off you, already removing his pants and breeches ready to fuck you dumb but to his surprise you stopped him. “I want to do to you what you just did to me Benji.” You pleaded already looking up at him with your lashes. He took in a sharp breath and watched you sink to your knees.

Grabbing his leaking cock by the base you decided to lick up the precum and see how he would react. “Fuck- baby do that again. Don’t stop.” He gasped. You did as he commanded and this time sucked at his tip, resulting in him throwing his head back and moaning out of pleasure. The salty precum on your tongue motivated you to swirl your tongue around his tip and continue sucking. His groans and pants and ramblings of your name filled you with need but first you wanted his seed in your mouth again.

You continued to suck on his tip but now took him further in your mouth, earning you quite the explicit and long moan. Finally he looked down at you and softly held your head by your hair, guiding you a bit deeper. “Seven hells, look at you, swallowing my cock like that- You love it don’t you. Me using you as if your a common wench- Fuck- Just like that baby c’mon-” Him talking to you in such a manner made you reach for your clit, which made Benji smile and pant at the sight. Chasing your own release he helped you by guiding your head faster down his cock. Spit and precum drooling down your chin, hair all messed up. How would you even explain that to your family?

“C’mon baby- I’m gonna fucking cum- You want my spent down your throat- Of course you do- Yes- Yes- Fuck!” The view of you cumming rubbing your clit finished him. You basically drank his cum as he filled your throat all while he gasped for air and moaned your name. When he pulled back from you, you licked your lips and smiled up at him. Never had you felt such power over a man. It felt way to fucking good. He pulled you back up and kissed you again. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He laughed breathlessly.

“I think it’s about the same as what you do to me.” You smiled. He kissed your forehead before handing you your clothes again. While you both got dressed that heated, exciting and blissful mood turned quiet and solemn. You both knew you had to get back soon. After you were both dressed he sat down on the ground motioning for you to sit on his lap. You giggled as you joined him on the ground, pushing him back so you could lay on top of him, holding each other close. “I think I love you.” He suddenly blurted out. You looked at him with flushed cheeks and grazed your hand across his, over his lips and through his hair. “I think I love you as well.” He sat back up at your words and kissed you deeply.

“Please, you can’t leave me.” He begged once he removed his lips from yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” You admitted. “You belong to me. You were made for me. I will destroy the world if that’s what it takes to make you my wife.” He rubbed your cheek with his hand as he spoke. “Come with me to Dragon Stone and ask my mother for my hand. If she for some reason refuses, I’ll cut through our guard myself if I have to, and we could run away.” He smiled at that and both of you agreed that he would ask for your hand.

#house of the dragon #hotd #benjicot blackwood x fem reader #benjicot blackwood x reader smut #benjicot blackwood x fem reader smut #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #davos blackwood x reader smut #davos blackwood x fem reader smut #davos blackwood x fem reader

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lewisvinga · 7 months

Text

good lord | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader

summary; in which daniel is absolutely obsessed with his girlfriend

fc; alycia debnam carey

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! based off of pookie and jett ( yall better know who i’m talking abt ) bc daniel would so be like jett

masterlist !

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and others !

yourusername: went on a silly little walk to buy some silly fruit today

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raven-dor · 1 month

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birds of a feather

In which gwayne's wife misses her friends, and he remedies that by visiting during their nephew's second name day

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: tension between friends, fluff, reuniting, allusions to nsfw, FLUFF

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

AN: this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

The familiar view of King’s Landing stood outside the carriage window, butterflies erupting in the young woman’s stomach. After two years, she was back in the place she’d called home for most of her life. She fidgeted with her dress, eager to leave the carriage and see her friends. As much as Y/N loved her husband, she’d missed her friends beyond belief, and when Gwayne had mentioned they’d been invited to their nephew’s second name day, she’d jumped at the chance.

He smiled, tilting his head. “You seem eager.”

She grinned, her husband’s teasing would not place a damper on her happiness. “I am. I’ve missed them more than I care to say.”

He raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Do I really bore you so?”

“Yes. You are quite boring.” She smirked. “If only I had a handsome, young husband to entertain me. Instead, I am-” His lips attacked hers, and she cackled, throwing her head back. “You know I adore you.”

“And I you.” He grinned, nuzzling his nose against hers. “We’re here.”

She squealed, straightening her dress. “After you, husband.”

The carriage door opened; Gwayne walked out first, extending his hand. “My lady.”

She smiled thankfully, walking down the steps. With him by her side, she felt like a princess. The way he looked at her made her weak, practically mush. “Thank you, my love.”

Alicent, Viserys, and Otto stood at the opposite side of the courtyard. The young couple approached, bowing before the king and queen.

“My lord.” Gwayne nodded.

“Your Grace.” Y/N smiled. “It is most gracious of you to have extended this invitation.”

Viserys laughed. “Nonsense. I’ve considered you part of my family for many years now.”

“That is very kind, thank you.”

Alicent smiled, stepping forward and taking Y/N’s hands into hers. “I have missed you so.”

“I’ve missed you as well, Your Grace. It has been far too long.”

The girl's smile faltered at the title, nodding in agreement. “Please, come. We have much to celebrate.”

“Yes, indeed.” Y/N grinned, walking with Alicent. “How is little Aegon?”

Alicent’s smile did not reach her eyes. “Well.”

Y/N whispered. “And you? How are you?”

“I am-” Viserys summoned her across the room. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course.” Y/N nodded. “I’ll be here.”

“So?” Gwayne appeared beside her, hooking his arm through hers. “How goes my dear sister?”

“She’s-” Y/N sighed. “She seems well.”

Gwayne hummed. “Perhaps we should go fawn over the young prince.”

She smiled. “I believe I will take a walk around the grounds.”

He tilted his head. “Would you like me to come with you?”

She shook her head. “Stay. I wouldn’t want to take you away from your family.”

He laughed but nodded. “You are my family now.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she kissed his cheek quickly. “I love you.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “I love you much more, my dear.”

Music rang from the Godswood, a man’s voice echoing throughout the halls. Strange, she’d thought. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see who was making the noise. A young man sat by at the foot of the tree, stroking the strings of his guitar while he sang. Not far from him sat a young girl with white hair falling at her waist. Y/N grinned, approaching the princess. “Rhaenyra!”

Her friend's head whipped, a menacing look in her eyes until she realized who had called her name. “Y/N!” She practically jumped to her feet, running to her friend. She hugged her tightly, emotion laced in her voice. “I’ve missed you.” She let her go, looking her over. “Are you well?”

Y/N nodded, grinning so widely she thought her cheeks would explode. “Very. I feel as if it’s been decades.”

Rhaenyra’s face looked melancholy. “It is selfish of me to say, but-” She sighed. “I wish you would have stayed.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “Has something happened?”

She opened her mouth to speak but turned her head around, glaring at the man. “Did I tell you to stop playing?”

“No, Princess.”

“Again, from the beginning.” She turned back, a faint frown on her lips. “I feel as though I am utterly alone here.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true, Rhaenyra.” She whispered. “Have you spoken to Alicent?”

The princess scoffed. “I would rather fling myself off of the tallest tower.”

Y/N glared playfully, smacking her arm. “Rhaenyra!”

Rhaenyra giggled. “What?”

“You mustn’t say such things.”

“Are you going to run and tell her?”

“You know I would never do that to you. And I know that you still hold love for Alicent." She smiled sympathetically. “You were once great friends.”

She nodded. “Yes. Once. Before she married my father.” She turned back to the tree, retreating to her previous seat. “Come! Tell me of your adventures.”

Y/N laughed, sitting beside her. “There’s not much to tell other than the fact that I am inexplicably happy. He’s kind to a fault and truly respects me and my opinion.” She smiled, leaning back into one of the many pillows that surrounded them. “It’s refreshing compared to the men we came to know in our youth.” Rhaenyra hummed, staring at her book, and Y/N smirked, nudging her. “And has the princess found interest in anyone as of late?”

She laughed lightly. “The men brought before me are insulting. I want-”

“Your Grace.” The singer stood, bowing.

Rhaenyra didn’t bother looking up from her book. “Did I say to stop? From the beginning.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, but she made no comment. She was severely outranked, and there was no way she could come out of this situation unscathed if she chose to speak up. The man continued yet again.

“Rhaenyra?”

The princess huffed. “Yes, my queen?”

“Your presence is wanted in the outer courtyard. The royal hunt readies to depart.”

“I’ve decided to stay here and read instead.”

Y/N whispered, placing a hand on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. “I only accepted the invitation because I knew you would be attending.” She sighed. “Please.”

Alicent had evidently had enough of his singing because she cut him off. “You may go, Samwell.”

“You are to stay by order of the princess.”

Y/N felt as if she should leave. It was uncomfortable enough being stuck in between the two when Alicent was first promised to Viserys, and the tension was practically visible between the two former friends. She began to stand, and Rhaenyra hissed, pulling her back down. “Don’t.”

“The queen commands you to leave the Godswood at once.” Samwell nodded, leaving without another word. Y/N honestly wished to thank Alicent; his voice was quite annoying once you heard the same song three times over. “The king wishes for you to join us.”

“The king has much to celebrate; he does not need me.”

“He wants for us all to be together. Perhaps the hunt could be… fun.”

Y/N nodded, looking back at Rhaenyra. “Together again.”

The princess sighed, looking up from her book. “Is it the king’s command?”

“Yes, but it-”

She huffed, standing up. “Then at once, Your Grace.”

“But it needn’t be.” Alicent looked positively miserable. “None of it needs be this way in truth, Rhaenyra.”

The blonde girl looked at Y/N once more, nodding. “I’ll see you at the hunt.” Without sparing so much as a look at the queen, she retreated out of the Godswood, her hair swishing as she stepped.

Y/N sighed, linking her arm through her sister-in-law’s. “Let me help you to the courtyard. I’m sure, being this far along, things have begun to hurt.”

Alicent smiled. “It is easier the second time, but I would appreciate the company.”

“So…” Y/N whispered. “Have you thought of any names?”

“I must admit, I haven’t put much effort into that as I should.”

“I’m sure you have a busy schedule.” She smiled sympathetically. “If you’d like, we can conjure some up while we attend the hunt.”

“I’d like that.” She leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder. “I’d like that very much.”

The royal carriage pulled into the campsite, the courtesans gathering around to greet them. Viserys exited first, followed by Alicent and Aegon. Y/N tilted her head, leaning over and whispering in her husband's ear. “Where’s Rhaenyra?”

He simply shrugged, clapping loudly. His uncle grinned. “Hail, hail, Aegon the Conquerer Babe, second of his name! Here’s to his grace on his second name day!”

Viserys smiled brightly, raising his son into the air. Thunderous applause echoed through the woods, but Y/N could not bring herself to be quite as enthusiastic. It seemed as if everything was off, different than how she’d left it. Minutes later, the crowd dispersed, but Y/N stayed, approaching the royal carriage. “May I come in?”

Rhaenyra nodded, staring at the ground. “I will never understand why father has forced me to come along.”

She placed a comforting hand over Rhaenyra’s. “Your father has always wished for his family to be happy and together.” She laughed. “Although he has a rather odd way of showing it.”

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning her head back against the carriage wall. “Must I really go into the lion's den and entertain these lords and ladies?”

“It is the life of being a princess, I imagine.” She smiled sympathetically. “One day, you will be queen, and you will be able to attend things at your leisure.”

“When I am queen, we will not have hunts like these, I can assure you.” She smirked, looking out the open door. “I suppose I should leave the carriage.”

“It would be wise, Princess.” Y/N grinned, nudging her friend. “If you need me, send word, and I will come.”

She stood, curtsying when Rhaenyra called out. “I need you.”

Y/N laughed. “Shall I accompany you, Your Highness?”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra stood, linking her arm with Y/N’s. “You shall.”

They walked down the steps together, entering the large red tent directly in front of them. Y/N leaned over, whispering in her friend's ear. “It is quite extravagant for a second name day. I doubt your brother will remember this.”

The princess nodded, walking further into the tent. Voices could be heard gossiping, but one, predictably, stood amongst the rest. Ceira Lannister’s proud tone interrupted Lady Redwyne’s. “Lady Johanna was reported to have been abducted when one of Lord Swann’s ships sailed through the Stepstones.”

“What will happen to Lady Johanna?”

“She’s to be sold to a pillow house in the Free Cities if you believe the rumors.”

A man’s voice spoke. “I fear the gods did not make me for hunting. Might I sit with you, my ladies?”

“But of course, please join us.” Alicent smiled. She had always been kind-hearted. “Larys Strong, youngest son of our master of laws, Lord Lyonel.”

“My lord husband says that no king has been able to tame the Stepstones for long. It’s an inhospitable place suited only for savages.” The pair rounded the lobby, peeking in through the curtains.

“Perhaps the Princess…” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened. “Could provide us with some insight.”

They stepped through, smiling. Rhaenyra laughed. “I’m not sure how I could; I’ve never been to the Stepstones.”

“Your dear uncle is the great mind behind this war. Is he not?”

Y/N smiled condescendingly. “Are we so quick to blame family members for their relative's wrongdoings? I seem to remember, Lady Lannister, not long ago, your son Lord Jason almost burned the city’s sept to the ground.” She tilted her head. “Were you the great mind behind that exhibition?”

Rhaenyra tensed. “I have not spoken to Daemon in years.”

The Lady Lannister’s face looked sour. “Since you supplanted him as heir, I imagine.”

Alicent’s eyebrows raised. “Daemon made his choices, Lady Ceira. The princess was more suited to the role.”

Lady Redwyne sighed. “He’s made a mess, and the King must put an end to it. Send fleets and men and clear out the triarchy for good.”

Y/N murmured. “I was not aware you were the master of war.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head. “But the crown is not at war.”

“The crown is at war, Princess. Though your father refuses to admit it, we’ve been dragged into it by your Uncle and the Sea Snake.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, but Rhaenyra beat her to it. “And how have you served the realm as of late, Lady Redwyne? By eating cake?”

Rhaenyra waited for no response, dragging her friend outside as she laughed. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.” She rolled her eyes. “None of those ladies have any idea what it is like to rule. What makes them think they can speak as if they do?”

“It is just what they do, Your Highness.” She laughed. “And no one is a better gossip than the ladies we just encountered.”

They stopped by the fire, staring into it. “I wonder, Princess-” Y/N fought the urge to groan. She was already annoyed, and now completely understood why Rhaenyra acted the way she had as of late. “Was your own second name day as grand as this?”

“I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.”

The man stood, bowing before her. “Lord Jason Lannister.” Rhaenyra and Y/N smiled politely.

“I gathered that from all the lions.”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He snapped, ushering over his servant. What a pompous man, Y/N thought. She pitied the poor woman who would have to marry him. She began to pull her arm out of Rhaenyra’s when she tightened her grip, sending her a quick cry for help. Y/N would have laughed if their company was not present.

“Your twin serves on my father’s council.”

“Tyland is frightfully dull; Gods love him.” He handed the pair of them cups, smiling proudly. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever taste. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

Rhaenyra smiled back sarcastically. “Of course.”

“The Kingswood, it’s fine hunting ground. But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock, near my home.”

Y/N fought the urge to laugh. “I beg pardon, my lord, but I believe you are mistaken. The woods surrounding Old Town have been known for centuries for its hunting grounds.” She smiled. “King Jaehaerys himself often visited for the very same purpose.”

The Lannister man smiled politely, whispering to Rhaenyra. “Might we talk alone, Princess?”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “Lady Hightower is a good friend, my lord. Anything you wish to say may be said in front of her as well.”

He sighed, going back to his obviously prepared speech. “Have you been to Casterly Rock?”

“Once, on tour with my mother when I was young, and I honestly cannot recall much of that either.”

“The Rock is thrice the high of the Hightower in Oldtown,” at this Y/N had rolled her eyes. “Taller still than the Wall in the North. It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“It must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a Dragonpit, of course, but I do have the means and resources to build one.”

Seven Hells. Y/N’s heart dropped. He was proposing to Rhaenyra. The Princess tilted her head. “Why would you need a Dragonpit?”

“To house Dragons, of course.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my queen or lady wife.”

Y/N whispered. “Rhaenyra, perhaps we should-”

Rhaenyra smiled, handing him back their cups. “Thank you for the wine.” She stalked back to the tent, practically dragging Y/N.

“I think I’ll go find Gwayne for a moment,” Y/N called out. “I would prefer not to be stuck in the screaming match between you and your father.”

The princess simply nodded, letting go of her friend's arm. Y/N huffed, smiling as her husband came into view. “My love.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “Having fun?”

“I forgot how exhausting it is to be her companion.” She frowned. “It must be horrible to be put on such a high pedestal.”

Gwayne mumbled. “Imagine being the queen.”

She looked over at Alicent, who looked lost in a sea of vipers. “Imagine.”

Viserys’s voice carried above the rest, and Y/N sighed, leaning her head on her husband's arm. “It’s starting.”

He looked puzzled. “What is, my dear?”

She gestured over to the King and Princess, who were in a heated discussion. “The reason I came to find you. I knew they’d start yelling. I cannot tell you the amount of arguments I was stuck in the middle of.” She shivered. “Targaryens have the blood of dragons in their veins, and it is evident when they are angry.”

The tent quieted, the whole of its inhabitants looking at the royals. Rhaenyra ran off, and Gwayne leaned down, whispering in Y/N’s ear. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

She shook her head, smiling sadly. “She always does best when she is by herself, given time to think.” She looked up, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

“Oh?” He smirked, his eyes dark. “That is nice to know.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for his lips. “I live to serve you.”

He rolled his eyes. “We both know that’s not true. Quite the opposite, really.”

“Gwayne.” He hummed. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

“Yes, my lady.” He leaned down, kissing her deeply. “Shall we retire early?”

She gasped, hitting his chest indignantly. “It is only half past two.”

“And?”

“Y/N.” The pair broke apart, smiling at the King. “Your Grace.”

He grinned. “How have you been, my dear?”

“Well, my king.” She placed a hand on Gwayne’s chest, smiling up at him. “I have been very well.”

“Shall I be hearing news of a babe anytime soon?”

Her cheeks flushed, losing the ability to speak. She felt nauseous. Gwayne laughed. “Hopefully, Your Grace.”

Viserys laughed along with her husband. “Perhaps you could tell Rhaenyra how rewarding marriage has been for you.” He failed to hide his annoyance. “She is quite stubborn about the idea.”

“I’m sure she will come around in time, Your Grace.” She smiled. “Rhaenyra understands the importance, and with a kind match, she will be more than happy to fufill her duties. I am sure of it.”

Viserys nodded. “Enjoy the hunt.”

“We will. Thank you, Your Grace.” The king walked away, and Gwayne whispered. “Do you really believe she will be so willing?”

“Seven Hells, no.” Y/N laughed. “I doubt she will marry willingly.”

He smiled. "Were you once that way?"

"I remember rejecting your first proposal." She raised an eyebrow. "I never thought I would marry."

"I'm surprised."

"And why is that?"

He pulled her closer, a loving look in his eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't have a line of suitors out of the castle."

She laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "How sweet."

Gwayne laughed at the Lords who were shoving food down their throats like it was their last meal. “I thank the gods every day that I am not Lord of Hightower.”

“And why is that husband?”

“I would have to go on those dreadfully long and unfair hunts.” He laughed. “You know as well as I that hunting in Old Town is just that: hunting. We do not strap the beast down; we actually track the animals.”

She smiled. “What a kind man you are.”

He glared. “Are you jesting?”

She scoffed, acting surprised. “What would make you state such a claim? I am simply telling you how kind you are.”

“For some reason,” He leaned down. “I do not believe you.”

“Well, perhaps, dear husband,” She reached for his lips. “You should.”

“We should retire.” He whispered. “They do not need us.”

“I would love to retire.”

He sighed. “But?”

“But I feel horrible, leaving your sister by herself. Her husband…” She whispered. “Seems more preoccupied with his wine than her well-being.”

He dropped in head on her shoulder, groaning. “Must you be so considerate?”

“Yes,” she kissed his temple. “I must. Now remove your head from my shoulder. I want to sit with your sister.”

He sat up, glaring. “You take the fun out of everything.”

“That’s not what you said a fortnight ago.” She whispered, a chill running down his spine. “After I spend some time with her, I will be yours. I promise.”

He smirked. “I look forward to it.”

She stood up, curtsying in front of Alicent. “My Queen. May I?”

She nodded eagerly. “Please.” The cupbearer came over, pouring her a glass. “Would you like some?”

“I believe if I have any more, I will not be able to walk."

Alicent laughed. “Is my brother treating you well?”

“He is a gracious husband," she smiled. "I wish you could have attended the wedding.”

“I do as well.” She sighed. “I fear I have less freedom than one would think a queen is allowed.”

“Surely Viserys understands your need to see family.” Y/N lamented. “Perhaps we could convince him of a trip to the country.”

“Perhaps.” Alicent did not look hopeful. “He is rather preoccupied.”

“You have the ladies at court to keep you company, I hope?”

“Yes…” She sighed. “But I find that I have few true friends at the moment.”

“Alicent…” Y/N held her hands. “You have me.”

Her eyes watered. “I miss when it was the three of us. Is that wrong to say?”

Y/N shook her head. “I feel the same. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could go back.”

“Does Gwayne not-”

“I love your brother, truly.” She smiled. “But friends are important, good for the soul.”

Alicent grinned, tears falling. “Please write to me.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Sister?” The girl turned around, smiling at her husband. “Are you alright?”

The queen nodded. “I missed your wife’s company.”

Gwayne grinned. "She is certainly something, isn't she?"

Y/N blushed, shoving him away. “I’m glad we made the trip.”

“Shall I leave you two-”

His sister shook her head. “I’m retiring.” She looked at Y/N once more. “I will miss you.”

“I will miss you just as much.” Alicent stood, and Y/N walked into her husband's embrace. “You have made me a very happy wife, Gwayne.”

“Well, I live to serve you.” He smirked. “You are my joy.”

“You flatter me.”

“It is true. I am not a liar, as you well know.” He slung an arm across her shoulders. “Let us go to bed.”

"I'm not feeling tired." She grinned mischievously. "Are you?"

"Quite the opposite." Once they left the tent, he put his arm under her legs, sweeping her off her feet. Y/N giggled, leaning her head against his chest.

"I'm glad we understand each other."

He pushed through their tent's entrance, dropping her on the bed and hovering over her. "Have I told you how much I long for you?"

She shook her head, blushing.

He sighed, leaning down. "Let me show you."

“Rhaenyra!” Y/N called out, racing towards her friend. She hugged her quickly. “We were worried.”

“We?” The princess smirked. “Or my father?”

Y/N frowned. “I will miss you dearly.”

"Have you not heard? I’m being sent on a tour to find a suitor of my choosing.”

“That’s wonderful. I knew your father would come around.”

She squinted. “My father said it was your words that made his mind.”

“I-” Realization dawned on her. “I said that you would possibly be inclined to marry if you found a kind match you will be more than willing to fulfill your duties.”

“Well, whatever you said, I am glad of it. One of the stops is Old Town.” She grinned. “I will see you in just a few short months.”

“I am counting the days.” Gwayne waved her over, and Y/N curtsied. “Princess.”

She ran over to her husband, and he caught her, laughing at her enthusiasm. “You are quite bubbly this morning.”

She grinned, whispering in his ear. “I had a rather productive night.”

“Productive?” He raised an eyebrow. “I would say romantic.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course.” Walking towards the carriage, she gasped when he shut the door, his grin resembling that of a wolf. “Perhaps I should show you the meaning of the word.”

Y/N blushed, biting her lip. “Yes." She leaned back. "Perhaps you should.”

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