#i have mulled wine and no shame

[turtleybeachin]

Devildom doesn't have smartphones it has Diavolo's Devildom Devices.

Devildom doesn't have tampons it has Diavolo's Devildom Demonpons.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats (Pt. 3)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

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

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

Part 1 | Part 2

“With free reign of King’s Landing, Aemond will focus his attention on the occupation of bast-” Aegon’s face flushes bright red. “Harrenhal.” He corrects himself, “and the extermination of house Strong.”

“What did you call it?” Daemon arches a brow.

“Harrenhal,” Aegon repeats.

“Before that,” Daemon prods.

Aegon sighs, looking to his wife.

“Bastardhal.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“My brother’s term of endearment.” He explains, “a slip of the tongue.”

“Mmm,” Daemon hums. “Perhaps allegiance to your brother runs deeper than you let on.”

“I have left my siblings and abandoned my post to be here. I remain loyal to Rhaenyra’s claim and her line of succession. What else would you have me do?” Aegon scoffs.

“There are a number of things.”

“If you refuse to believe that Aegon is loyal to our queen, believe that he is loyal to me and I am loyal to my mother.” Y/N takes a protective step in front of her husband.

Daemon’s jaw ticks, frustrated and teetering near sanity’s edge. “You then, are responsible for his indiscretions.”

“I take full responsibility.” Y/N agrees, “he is here for me.”

“Perhaps he might further demonstrate his loyalty.”

“And how, do you suggest, I do that?” Aegon wonders.

“Deliver us your brother’s head on a platter.” Daemon sneers.

“Mother!”

“Am I wrong, Rhaenyra?” Daemon scoffs.

“That is enough!” The Queen slams her fist against the table. “Thank you, Aegon for the information you provided. We will coordinate with our army and send reinforcements to Harrenhal. We will send word to Cregan Stark-”

“By raven?”

“However I see fit, Daemon. Stay your hand.” Rhaenyra snaps. “You are all excused.”

Aegon is out the door just as swiftly.

Y/N flinches as it slams behind him.

Jacaerys remains stoic in the corner, saying nothing for a long while as his mother and step father begin bickering. “Sister,” he nods toward the hallway.

Y/N returns the gesture, following him out past the royal guards. “The nerve of him.” She is fuming as they begin strolling the grounds.

“That is Daemon.” Jacaerys breathes. “Pay him no mind.”

“It’s not as if I don’t want Aemond’s head. Luce is our brother, for the gods’ sake.”

Jace swallows, mouth set in a firm line. “He was our brother.”

Was…is he not anymore?

“In these dealings with Aemond, you must remember that killing him will not bring Luce back.”

“It would be even.”

“A son for a son was also even.” Her brother reminds her. “Your grievance with it hath brought you here.”

“I should have allowed the murder of a child?”

“I did not say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“What is even is not always right, I expect you know that by now.”

“Indeed.”

“Ravens will take too long.” Jacaerys laments, “but mother will not let us deliver messages anymore. It is a shame that our safety comes at the expense of other’s.”

Y/N draws in a steadying breath. “Pity.” She turns away, in the direction of her chambers. Aegon is waiting for her there, sipping from a pitcher of wine. “Did they not give you a cup, my darling?”

“Hmm,” Aegon hums into the container, “of course.” He lowers the pitcher from his mouth, “but this is faster.”

The princess puts a hand to her head.

“I am not a dog that’s been kicked, do not look at me that way. As if I am weak.”

“I love you and you are hurting.” Y/N sighs, “I do not know how else to look at you.”

Aegon mulls this over for a moment. “I did not mean to call it bastardhal.”

“I know that.”

“You are not a bastard.” He presses on, “I am sorry for ever calling you one.”

“You are forgiven.” It is nothing more than a word. It cannot harm her anymore.

“If no house would claim you, then I would.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile, “thank you, Aegon.”

“You think I jest? Or does it simply mean nothing coming from me?”

“It means everything coming from you,” Y/N takes a step toward him. “Forgive me if I have made it seem-”

“No,” Aegon shakes his head, “forgive me. I am lost in this. I mustn’t take my frustration out on you.”

Y/N cups his face in her hands. “If you are loved by no one, know you are loved by me.“

“Without you I have nothing.” He reaches a shaky hand out, stroking her hair, reverently. “I am nothing.”

She draws back, searching his eyes. “That is not true.”

“If you ask me to slay my brother, I will do it.” Aegon breathes.

Y/N presses her lips together. She had not asked, Daemon did. But Aegon does not bend to Daemon’s will, only hers.

“Please do not ask.” He murmurs with wide, sad eyes.

Y/N cannot stand to see him cry. It tears at the depths of her soul. She wraps her arms around him, “I will not ask.”

Aegon clings to her. “I would do it.”

“I know, my love.” Y/N presses kisses to the side of his face. She knows his sadness, the burden of being least loved by everyone else. Some part of him will always seek to win her approval, her affection… her love.

He is pawing at her then, at the laces of her dress. He does not know how to comfort her, nor himself. He knows how to bring pleasure so blinding it nearly drowns out the pain.

Y/N helps him remove his clothes, wrapping him up in her arms. “I love you.”

“As I love you.” He’s stumbling backwards then, hovering over her on the bed. Easing his cock into her.

She sighs, losing herself in the gentle rocking of his hips. There is no haste to reach their peak, taking what little comfort they can from each other.

It is not until his thumbs skate over her cheeks that Y/N realizes she is crying. Even here, on their marriage bed, there is no end to suffering. Only an end to loneliness.

————————————————————————

Y/N waits until Aegon is sleeping soundly to clamber from the warmth of his arms and dawn her riding gear. Dragonstone is quiet as she makes her way down to the dragon pit. Stormborn is nestled in beside Sunfyre, her light blue scales complement the golden hue of her companion.

“Where are you off to at this hour, your grace?” One of the keepers asks.

“I’m going to take Stormborn out for a bit of fresh air. The moon is beautiful this evening, don’t you agree?” Y/N smiles, tucking a bit of loose hair behind her ear.

“Indeed, Princess.” He eyes the sword, sheathed at her back.

“This is only a precaution,” Y/N lies, “we can never be too careful in these times.”

He nods, “I will saddle her.”

“Thank you, Marcelo.” Y/N nods, tugging on her riding gloves as she waits. Tapping at her wedding band, beneath the cool fabric.

“She is ready, your grace.”

“Thank you, again.” She says, climbing up onto Stormborn’s saddle.

“It is my great honor.” The man smiles, watching in wonder as the princess sets off across the sea.

Only a few torches are lit at the entrance of Harrenhal.

Y/N lands near the stone walkway, striding up to the tall hooded figure and ripping back his cloak.

Aemond turns to his assailant. “Y/N?”

“Take out your sword.” She demands.

“Lucerys death was a tragic mistake, a lapse in judgment I do not care to repeat.”

“I will not kill you with your back to me, I am no coward. You will face me, take out your sword.”

“For the sake of the gods, Y/N,” Aemond growls. “Do you aim so desperately to break my brother’s heart?”

“I will not allow the slaughter of innocent people. This ends here.”

“A brother for a brother it will be then, not a son for a son.” Aemond reluctantly withdraws his weapon.

Y/N charges him, in a blind rage, their blades meet, clanking together.

“You make a better sparring partner than most.” He draws his sword away, narrowly dodging her next attack.

“This is not a children’s game, I want your head!”

Aemond purrs, “you must earn it then.”

She sees red, swinging at him again, until his blade slices across her side and she has cut deep into the flesh of his leg. Bringing the Prince to his knees, with her sword at his neck.

“Do it,” Aemond insists, “you will not get another chance.” He stares up at her blade, dripping with his blood. The fear etched into her eyes, tresses of dark hair clinging to her sweat damp skin.

In this light, each of them resemble their brother.

The end Y/N desires is so near she can taste it, rising like bile in her throat. She chokes on it. “No.” She drops her blade from his neck, covering her aching side instead. “No.”

Aemond hangs his head. “I am sorry for that business with Luce. I lost my temper that day.”

“And I lost my…” No, she cannot say it, the pain is too great.

“Let me see your wound.” Aemond insists.

In her shock, Y/N obeys.

He tears across the bottom of his cloak, knotting the material firmly around her torso. Unbothered by her hissing protest. “This will hold until you reach Dragonstone. Go to Aegon, he will tend you.”

“You must leave this place.”

“You have my word.”

“And you must leave King’s Landing.”

Aemond smirks, “where would I go?”

“Anywhere.” Y/N suggests, “take Helaena and your children. We both know, she is too kind to bear the weight of the crown and our blood. Take her away so she might be happy…and free.”

“Do you not wish to be free from the weight of the crown?”

Y/N hesitates for a long moment. “I am the crown. I am my mother’s heir, her only daughter. I cannot abandon her, she has lost too much.”

Aemond swallows, “very well. Helaena will write you. You and my brother might visit, once we’re settled.”

“Perhaps we will.” She will never forgive him for Lucerys. They will never be as they were before Storm’s End. “You are my husband’s brother and husband of my dearest friend.”

“I am also your brother’s murderer. A title that trumps all, despite your best intentions. You are good, and kind, but human all the same.”

————————————————————————

“Aegon.”

“Hmm?” He reaches for his wife, blindly, stroking a hand over her dark waves. “What have you done to your hair, darling girl?” He grumbles, “it is awfully coarse.”

Jace bats Aegon’s hands away. “My sister is gone, you buffoon. Get your clothes on.”

“Jacaerys?” Aegon springs up, covering himself with the top sheet. “What are you doing?”

“Y/N is missing. The dragon handlers informed me that she left on Stormborn nearly two hours ago. Sunfyre has been yowling ever since.”

“Alert your mother,” Aegon demands, “raise the guard. Who on earth let the heir to the throne take a dragon from the pit in the middle of the night?”

“She is a princess, not a prisoner.” Jace reminds him, “I have a hunch as to where she went.”

“Harrenhal.” Aegon begins tugging on his clothes. The little brat bedded him and snuck off; again. “She will be a prisoner upon her return. I tire of these games.”

“You mustn’t be so harsh, my sister would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

“Yet she will not stay with me.” Aegon steps into his boots. “Surely she loves me so dearly that she flees at every opportunity.”

“Do not see it that way.” Jace sighs.

“I have no other way to see it.” Their chamber door swings open, revealing the woman in question.

“Aegon,” Y/N chokes. The blinding rush of battle is gone, leaving only her pain.

“Leave us,” Aegon waves a dismissive hand at his nephew.

“Y/N,” Jacaerys looks to his sister instead.

“I am well, brother.”

“You are bleeding.”

Y/N glances down at her wound, “perhaps you might go quietly to the maester and request milk of the poppy?”

“The maester should tend you,” he argues.

“Aegon will tend me, tis but a scrape.” Y/N insists.

Her brother squares his shoulders. “Very well, I will be back.”

“Thank you, brother.” Y/N forces a smile as Jace exits the door.

“What happened?” Aegon demands, squinting into the dim light as his wife stands before him, in her riding gear.

“I could not do it.” Y/N curses her own weakness. “I went to Aemond, I stopped him from taking Harrenhal and I let him go.”

Aegon shifts her garments aside to reveal the damage. A long bleeding gash, beneath her ribs. “Aemond did this to you?” He sits her down on the foot stool, pacing in the small space before it.

“We dueled,” Y/N admits. “I made my mark on him as well.”

“Gods be good.” Aegon breathes.

“If Daemon catches word of this-”

“You are injured. That is where my interests lie, not in the folly of men.” Aegon seethes.

“He has already condoned the murder of children. Helaena’s children, of all people. What will he do if he hears of this?”

Aegon passes a hand over his face. “Surely we cannot leave the wound open like that, it will fester.”

“I know,” Y/N nods. “We must seal it up, with a heated blade. We can do it here, no one need know.” She reaches for his cup on the dresser, chugging the foul liquid down for some relief.

“You’re asking me to…” his eyes dart to his dagger, abandoned near his boots. “No.”

“Aegon.”

“I can’t.”

“It will be quick,” she reasons. “It will scar, but it is on my side, you will not look upon it often.”

“That is what you’re concerned with,” Aegon snaps, “of all things, you think I care about the scar it will leave? That I might frown upon an imperfection?”

“I-”

“You are maddening.”

“I am sorry. I do not wish to fight.”

“It is unavoidable from what I’ve heard. Marriage causes strife and disagreements.”

“Not ours,” Y/N insists, “you are the only person who understands me.”

“I do not understand why you would put yourself in danger.”

“For you.” Y/N tells him. “So you would not have to choose between your wife and your brother.”

“I would choose you, imbecile.”

Y/N bares her teeth. “I couldn’t let you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are mine, Aegon! I protect what is mine.”

In the way of the dragon. And that, Aegon understands very well.

“Here it is,” Jace returns with milk of the poppy.

“Thank you,” Aegon takes the gauntlet, bringing it to his wife’s lips. “Drink all of it.” He demands.

“Is there anything more I can do?” The other man asks.

“Rest the blade of my dagger over the fire until it glows red, then bring it to me.”

Jace nods.

“First, might you find something for her to bite down on. Leather works best.” Aegon purses his lips, “bring me my belt.” One of them is still etched with her teeth markings from Laenor’s birth. He’s delivered two of their children, surely he can do this.

Jacaerys rushes to the armchair beside the bed, tugging Aegon’s belt free and placing it on the foot stool beside his sister.

Y/N curls her fingers around the harsh material. Her vision has doubled, swaying from side to side.

“Are you going to faint?” Aegon catches her face between his hands.

“I feel fine,” Y/N slurs.

Aegon taps her chin. “That is good, my dearest love. I am going to remove your shirt.” He eases the material over her head, leaving only the bindings to cover her breasts.

“The blade is ready,” Jacaerys calls, from the fire place.

“Open.” Aegon tugs at her bottom lip with his thumb until her jaw goes slack, taking the leather belt from her clenched fist and placing the strap between her teeth. “Bite.”

Y/N clamps her teeth around it.

“Good girl.”

Jacaerys approaches, handling the instrument with care.

“You will hold me around the waist, you are not to let go until I say.” Aegon instructs, waiting until she is wrapped around him in an awkward sort of hug. “There you go.” He pats her head before taking the dagger from her brother. He offers no additional warning before lying the blade flat across the expanse of her wound. The cut is a clean one, without jagged edges.

Y/N lets out a muffled cry.

“Shh,��� he hushes her, holding the heat to her skin for just a moment more before tossing the dagger away. Gingerly withdrawing the belt from her teeth. Resting his forehead against hers as whimpers settle to deep breathing. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods.

“If you dare leave me again, Gods help me, I will shackle you to my side.”

Y/N strokes a hand over the side of his face. “Yes, Aegon.”

“I do not jest.”

Part 4

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight @ninastyless @aleemendoza2425-blog @livingdead-reilly @whenmypartysover @darlingisntit @nayaniasworld @uniquecroissant @spacexdrago

[idekwtf-is-happening]

HAPPY TEN YEARS

[softspiderling]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I wish Cregan’s choice of guests had less cocks.”

You leaned back in your seat, swirling the mulled wine in your goblet after the fifth time being stepped on your feet during a dance.

Alysanne nearly spat her cider all over the table as she laughed and she quickly covered her mouth, pushing her goblet away.

“You are incorrigible.”

“I am right!” You insisted, giving your friend a look.

It was Cregan’s name day, he was twenty and four now and you had taken the annual journey to Winterfell upon yourself to celebrate with him. As usual, his choice of guests consisted of men and a only handful of ladies, two of which were you and Alysanne. You were in the miserable position of being a lady who was not spoken for, so every lad in attendance was hoping to strike up conversation with the lady who came from another land.

“They are not that bad.”

You rolled your eyes at Alysanne.

“You only say that because no one even dares to offer their hand to you because they know you’re Cregan’s.”

Alysanne smirked but didn’t deny the fact. You were happy that Cregan and Alysanne had finally gotten around to confess their feelings for another, you weren’t sure how much longer you had in you to hear one friend talk about the other, even though the mutual affection was so clear to everyone else, but it left you at odds in certain situations.

Like Cregan’s name day celebrations.

This was the fifth one you attended after befriending Alysanne when her father came to your land to talk trades with your mother. This was the first one where Alysanne was (unofficially) spoken for.

Only the year previous, Alysanne had entertained multiple men for dances, hoping to provoke Cregan into a confession. But now, she leaned back comfortably without the risks of being asked for a dance by anyone but the host.

“You look miserable.”

Cregan had joined you, placing his empty cup on the table to wrap a hand around Alysanne’s shoulder, his eyes amused as he looked at you.

“I am miserable,” you lamented. “I think I need to soak my feet for the next three nights to recover from the absolute horrors that befell me on the dance floor.”

Alysanne snickered, laying her hand on Cregan’s.

“She’s used to better dance partners.”

“Of course,” Cregan said, a grin growing on his face. “The diplomatic kind. How could I forget. Remind me of his name again, Leoric of Caryndor?”

“Myles is of Caryndor, Leoric is the Count of Edrion,” you corrected him, biting back a laugh.

“Oh forgive me,” Cregan snorted. “I wouldn’t want to insult any of your highborn consorts.”

“Don’t be crude,” you huffed, despite the grin on your face.

It was a known fact that you had no shame in going after what you desired. It was a mere coincidence that your mother’s most frequent guests were of highborns who had impeccable dance lessons.

“Aegon the Conqueror pales in comparison to you,” Alysanne laughed. “Unfortunately Queen Rhaenyra is wed, or I would fear for the Seven Realms if there was possibility of you nearing the Iron Throne.”

“Aye, do not forget her son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” Cregan replied, turning to you. ”You are close in age.”

“A very comely Prince,” Alysanne added and a smile tugged on your lips.

“I have yet to meet the ruler of Westeros, he is the Prince, you said? I do hope he is not a bore.”

Cregan huffed out a laugh.

“It might be some time before you lay your eyes upon him. His house rarely comes to the North. It is a little cold up here for a dragon.”

“Dragon?” you asked curiously, a brow arched. “I do hope to make his acquaintance soon.”

“Gods help him if ever ever does.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: just a little drabble to and i burn for you (and you don’t even know my name) to explain reader’s background a little. tagging @eldrith just because and @throughgoeshamilton bc you have asked for this.

[deonsx]

If They Need You

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai, Jouno

Content: obscene speech

Dazai Osamu

Dazai He often annoys you at work so after a while you get used to it, he has no shame he constantly exposes you to lewd words in front of his coworkers

He frowns when you're angry with him and whispers manipulated words in your ear with puppy dog ​​eyes that you can never reject

But this workday was different from the others, dazai was constantly making strange noises and wouldn't turn his gaze from you. you realized that and you ignored him finally it was lunch break and everyone went out but you didn't finish the files so you need to stay, with dazai

You thought you would continue to ignore him like it was during the day and you got up and went to get water a hand tightly around your waist pulled you to him "dazai! what the hell are you doing, we are at work" he ignored it and left kisses on your neck

"I need you" you felt a hardness as he hugged you tighter from behind "You realize we're at work and when we get home-" he didn't wait for you to finish andhe quickly picked you up and tossed the papers on the table and put you there

Why did you suddenly think he was acting like a stray animal but he didn't give you time to think, you stopped him "osamu we're at work and break is almost over" he took a long breath "then we'll do it otherwise" you raised an eyebrow as he said that "how so?" you asked. he went and sat in his chair, his eyes still on you

"Get Under The Table And Be A Good Girl For The Day Bella"

Chuuya Nakahara

The only day your boyfriend was available and with you was Sunday, and this time you wanted to spend the night at restaurant

Normally you wouldn't prefer places like this, but you wanted to have fun with him so you went to his favorite place for wine, the food and drinks came as usual, but the waiter asked if we wanted the drinks special this time, chuuya turned his eyes to the drink "Special?" the waiter nodded, "A hot special wine for you?

"Have you tried before?" The waiter asked the question with a warm smile, you answered "no? does it taste good?" the waiter nodded happily, chuuya must have liked this service, he said happily on his face "give us your hot special wine" That's how it all started the drinks were put on the table you both drank

and as soon as 5 minutes passed, you felt a warmth and hesitated but your boyfriend asked for 2 more glasses in a row and then the same thing must have happened to him as his eyes and face turned red "hot.." he whispered "I think now I understand why it's mulled wine" you muttered chuckling and you gave him advice "you shouldn't have drunk so much, honey" he lifted his head from the table and his eyes focused on you like a hungry animal "Go in the back room and wait for me" he told you in a serious tone

he didn't speak any more he obviously gave you orders you hesitated to get up but you got up and walked into the private room in the restaurant and sat on the bed made with red patterns before long chuuya arrived. You heard him lock the door behind him

“Undress My Love"

Ranpo Edogawa

You and your boyfriend were returning from a tired business trip, and he was talking to himself while eating his desserts and complaining that he couldn't touch you even once during his work vacation

He couldn't touch you because whenever he tried it, it was like there was a constant glitch Calls, Doorbells, Tasks, you couldn't do anything because of them, even at midnight you were tired and you were sleeping, the vacation was only 3 days and now you are driving the car and he is too He was expressing his anger

Of course, he was saying all this with a joke. After a short silence, ranpo pointed to a visible gas station with his hand "We have gas, my love" Ranpo smiled when he said this, "I have to buy something from the market" he prepared while saying "I'm waiting in the car"

The roads were so dark, the gas station lights were dim and gray so you couldn't see much around you parked the car and your boyfriend got out of the car fast

While you were waiting for him, you looked outside, you thought it must be a coincidence that there is a completely deserted grass and a gas station in nature

You unlocked your door with a knock and let your boyfriend open the door, you got up from your seat to look at what he was holding. "Condom??" "Just like that my love it's been a long time" he hissed as his eyes narrowed slightly

“How About You Take The Back Seat And Give Me A Nice Feast?”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

The man who is both your boss and your boyfriend at the same time, you do whatever he says, of course, this is valid during business hours

He gave you a mission but there was a glitch in the mission and now someone who works for fyodor just like you was scolding you, your relationship was secret so no one would have guessed it

The man was scolding you "It's really not wise to give such a job to such a woman" he talked again "You're stupid, you're useless, why are you in this job? Fyodor, why did our boss hire a prostitute like you? Or do you have something else?" he grinned and his hand reached out to you everything happened in the blink of an eye blood was everywhere

You saw your boyfriend coming from the shadows as the man's body crashed to the ground "I'm guilty of hiring someone like this next time you see someone like that know you're allowed to kill"

He slowly put his hand on your waist and took his steps towards the exit to get you away from there. "Fedya, the glitch on duty-" “shhh It doesn't matter, I have another request from you, my dear”

You left your office and walked in the dark street "It was a tiring day my love" his white skinned eyes illuminate the night telling you "You're kind of happy with that tone of voice" The man smiled "Of course I am" his grin widened he pulled you into the alley and quickly picked you up

“Open Your Legs For Me Only, My Dear”

Nikolai Gogol

You were also involved in your Boyfriend's Important Mission and your scene has already ended and you've been waiting for him

You were waiting at the hotel he hired for you. While waiting for him, you looked at some of your clothes in the closet. A really nice dress with red above the knee, thin sleeves and a really nice dress. You were getting ready for your job interview tonight. You opened your hair and waved it with tongs

You were waiting for Nikolai, after he finished his job and informed you, you were going to go to your job interview, the hotel door opened with a card and your boyfriend came in dressed in white "wow, whose beauty does this belong"

A splendid smile formed on your face, he approached from behind and ran his hands over his body "really nice dress for one wear" you looked at him in surprise "one wear?"

"I'm going to tear it up at the end of the night after all" She said with a pleasant chuckle "Sorry darling, but tonight I going to the job interview which is unlikely to happen"

Fingers entwined with your dress, fiddling with the zipper of the dress "hmm? you're a naughty boy" you said while holding his chin. He pulled you into a beautiful deep kiss

“I'm Gonna Fuck You Until You Can't Walk To That Job İnterview”

Jouno Saigiku

You were both on a mission given by Fukuchi and you went to a bar place and you were the main player here

Your boyfriend was only responsible for killing the man, you were going to lure him and take him to the hotel room, that's all, but it was harder than it looked because the man was trying to kiss you

He was trying to touch you which is perfectly normal if you don't let him the plan would fail the guy grabbed your waist, you could feel Jouno's eyes on you but you tried not to look

"Why is she such a beautiful woman in such a place" the man approached you with his drunk mouth you were disgusted and frankly tense, you tried to look at your boyfriend's side but you couldn't see him, this gave you an incentive to get scared

"Hey! Learn to look at my face when I'm talking to you, do you know who I am?" he spat filthy on the ground and you ask "What are you trying to say?" "Just tell me the price per night dear"

"How dare you" You talked but suddenly the lights went out and gunfire came back when the lights came back there was a pool of blood everywhere You looked at your boyfriend standing in front of you smiling at you "I'm sure there was a glitch in the plan the boss wouldn't mind"

He pulled you by the arm and led you to the room at the back entrance of the bar "does it turn you on when someone else touches you?" he asked you in an angry tone, you couldn't get over his surprise yet "what!? how do you think about that?"

"You look so happy to me" said as he pinned you against the wall "Never was that possible" his brows dropped and he grabbed your legs and tied you around your waist

"Show Your Worth To Me"

Request Are Open!

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Let's play who's the sidepiece?, Aegon has half of King's Landing and his sister has one (1) man, humor, strong themes of sexism/patriarchy/gender roles, infidelity but casual?, jealous jealous jealous Aeg, who is also a self-absorbed idiot, Aemond just wants peace, pnv!sex, Incest need I say more, manipulation, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (m!receiving), a bit toxic at the end but they do love each other.

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @thought--bubble

Divider by @saradika

Aegon was suspicious. Sure, he fucked whenever and however he wanted. Regardless of outside activities, something was off in his meticulously planned life. Planned by others, of course, he couldn't give a rat's ass. The prince just had been wed to his sister, the less strange one. She was suspiciously…competent in bed. He could swear she was supposed to be a maiden. She was- bled during the bedding ceremony when he first fucked her.

But the way she rode his cock was good. Too good. Aegon knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, it was eating him up. She even gave fantastic head! Who the fuck had taught her that? He narrowed his eyes at her, the fellow blonde looking bored at supper.

Aegon took a swig of his wine, eyes dark as he studied her. Maybe if he looked long enough someone would jump up and act jealous. What if she was secret fuckmates with his nephew? Aegon had a vague memory of a sordid rumor regarding Jacaerys Velaryon's horse cock. He would kill himself, truly. He could imagine the letter, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t take that shame, yes I know I live in constant shame, but this was the final straw.”

His sister-wife was staring now. She raised a brow in question. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Aegon grumbled, “Nothing. Just looking. Can’t have a look, alright then.”

She scoffed, “You can look, but you’re looking as if you’re about to eat my face.”

Oh. Aegon blushed in embarrassment. He drank more wine, mumbling a ‘sorry’. He didn’t want to broach the subject at supper. The prince’s damn family was nosy enough as is, he didn’t need Aemond’s big ass nose in his ear. Or one of those frightful looks from Alicent. If Aegon got lectured by Otto or Criston he would consider stabbing himself.

Aegon mulled over what he should do next between bites of mutton. She obviously wasn’t going to the Street of Silk, because that was his domain. Someone would’ve peeped already. He reluctantly knew when Daemon was visiting. Every. Damn. Time. Why would Aegon want to hear about the fuckhead's potency issues?

Mayhaps he should get her on the cusp of orgasm and demand who her secret lover-teacher-whatever was. That seemed sound enough to Aegon. When he was about to nut? One could ask him anything, there would be an answer. The prince smiled enigmatically, laughing to himself.

To which his sister-wife said, “You’re acting strange tonight.”

Aegon cooed, “Sorry, just dreaming a bit.”

Under the table he put a lecherous hand on her thigh, squeezing over her soft dress. His sister blushed and squirmed, fork awkwardly clanking across the plate. The woman hissed, “Okay I get it!” She cleared her throat, ignoring any stares. Aegon smirked and squeezed a bit higher, plump lips splitting into a grin.

Aegon had immediately crowded her smaller frame in the bedroom, plush lips attacking her neck, impatient hands pulling at her dress. She moaned, walking backward into the bed, yelping when Aegon crawled atop. He murmured, “You looked ravishing tonight, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh, huh, the clasps you fool,” she groaned.

Aegon huffed, probably tearing the fabric as he separated the back of the dress. She began to shuck the dress off while he awkwardly pulled off his breeches. They giggled a bit making eye contact; Aegon unbuttoning his tunic and her unlacing the corset. Soon they were both naked, grinning and kissing, her soft skin rubbing against his.

Aegon grabbed her thighs, mouthing at a tit and playfully nipping at it. She squeaked, thighs tightening around his waist, throwing long blonde hair back. His wife cried out, “Aegon! Quit playing!” He pulled off her nipple, murmuring between little kisses, “Why, is the princess needy?”

He slipped a ringed finger between her folds, finding her wetter than expected. Aegon dipped into her cunt, laughing, “Ah she is, little whore.” The princess writhed a bit, leaning up to capture his lips, lapping into his mouth hungrily. The prince returned her eager movements, curling his fingers into her pussy, letting her ride his hand.

“Fuck, you’re a doll,” he swore, “Perfect.”

She whined and arched up into him, hips canting on his hand. Aegon used his other hand to play with her sensitive tits, thumb circling around a budded nipple. She shivered and cried his name again, a pretty blush diffusing across her pallid skin. The prince hummed “Are you going to come for me sweetling? So soon?”

“Ngh, please, yes Aegon!”

He sped up his movements, feeling her tighten and twitch, the princess on the precipice. Aegon moaned before gathering himself, his pulsing cock was scrambling relative coherency. As it did. He panted, “Gonna count down and I want you to let go okay? Then I’ll fuck your pretty cunt.”

She nodded with lidded eyes, mouth hung open. The picture of ecstasy. Aegon smirked as he spoke.

…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Oh gods Aegon!”

“Who are you fucking!”

She writhed through the helpless orgasm, confusion evident on her twisting features. Aegon couldn’t help but throb AND be quite annoyed. He slurped the juices off his fingers, leaning back with a look. The prince was feeling sullen and not sure if he wanted to play anymore. His wife stared up at him and echoed “Who…am I fucking. What?”

Aegon pouted. This didn’t go to plan. He rolled his eyes and explained, “You excel, frighteningly so, at our bedroom activities. Yes, yes I know you were still a maiden at our wedding. But I am onto you, I don't know much but I do know about fucking, dearest."

“Are you kidding me? This is ludicrous Aegon!”

She had sat up now, crossing her arms, lips pouty. The prince stated as if it was obvious, “You know your way around a cock. Obviously, this comes with experience. I’ve bedded many a maiden and they usually just stare until you flip them over. So who’s the secret mentor?”

She scoffed in horror, cheeks reddening further, “I can’t believe this Aegon! You’re an idiot! I’m not fucking anyone else! Unlike you!”

“Lies you tell, no spring maiden has gargled my balls!” he accused, face growing equally red in frustration, ringed finger pointing at her.

His sister grew quiet, looking away. She mumbled “Fine. Do you want to know who it is so bad? This stays between us.”

Aegon nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to come out with it. She seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Then spit out a name so low and fast he couldn’t hear. Tonight might be the night he explodes. The prince groaned, “Oh my gods, just say it in a normal tone!”

“Larys Strong!”

What?

He burst into laughter. The prince guffawed, clutching his stomach, shaking with humor. She gaped “What? I’m not lying!” Aegon laughed some more thinking about the foot monger, he’s a bigger virgin than anyone in the keep. He breathlessly chuckled, “Good one, yeah right dear.”

She began to pull on her chemise, annoyed now. Aegon grasped at her thigh, pleading between fits of giggles, “I don’t know why you’re hiding this? I don’t care who you go and find pleasure with. Unless it’s truly Larys. C’monnnn love don’t leave.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. You’re making up things. What if I’m just good at carnal activities hm Aegon? You're an ass!”

Aegon contemplated the possibility, “Sure, that could be true. Now stop being huffy and come here. I said I’d fuck your pretty pussy.”

She stared down at him before taking her chemise back off. The princess hissed, “You’re a right asshole you know that? You better fuck me good. Prick.”

Aegon laughed again, cheeks hurting from his fit of humor. He maneuvered her onto all fours, sliding his cock against her still-wet folds. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, nosing sweet-smelling hair. He placed a hand on her tight stomach, humming, “I’m sorry dear, I’ll make it better Hm?” He slid in, watching her pretty eyes roll up in her head.

Aegon still wanted to know who his sister was fornicating. She probably was still seeing this person. All he knew was that they resided in the Red Keep and certainly not Larys Strong. The prince had to open his mind to the possibilities of women too. There were many a pretty handmaiden who tended to his wife.

He frowned in thought, sipping his wine. Aegon sat next to his stiff bitch of a brother in the library of all places. Secretly, Aegon hoped the knowledge in the room would give him some magical foresight gift- but not that weird shit Helaena did sometimes.

His wife fucking a handmaiden- that felt too overt. He’d only seen his sister gag and moon over visiting knights and lordlings. Next to Aegon sat his irritated brother. Aemond was quiet, too quiet. He and their sister got along quite well? Aegon's eyes turned to his not-so-little brother.

“Aem.”

“Why are you speaking to me? I’m trying to read.”

“I have a question. That's why, you frozen-faced ass.”

Aemond picked his head up and glared, slamming his book closed. He huffed “What, oh, what, could your drunkenness possibly ask from me? No, I’m not covering your ass again.”

Aegon snorted. His brother was such a frigid quim. He acted like Criston Cole, peacocking around the place, chip on their shoulder. The elder asked “Look. I’ll just be blunt with you. Our sister, my wife. She is merely too good in the sack. Are you fucking her? Is she fucking you?”

Aemond’s jaw audibly clicked in annoyance. He struggled over his tongue, face red. The second son stood up, slamming his hands on the stone. He retreated with a swish of hair and growled, “Buffoon.”

Aegon called after him, “Your behavior has not marked you off my list!”

"Fuck you and your list! Drunkard!!"

Icy little prick. Aegon rolled his eyes, pondering on his next target. Perhaps Jason Lannister? He was wooing any Targaryen princess for his sons. Or possibly Ser Arryk, her sworn shield. Aegon would go to them next. Then maybe do a night check on Aemond’s quarters. His wife was busy with their mother all day anyway. How boring.

Safe to say the prince was still vexed. Jason Lannister laughed in his face and Ser Arryk was extremely confused. He replied in that dumb voice of his, “The princess and I? I’m not that simple your grace. Some of us Kingsguard do take our vows seriously, although I can’t say the same for others.”

He refused to elaborate afterward, Aegon throwing his hands up and moving to the next destination. While walking, he pondered Arryk’s words. Could it be another Kingsguard? Maybe Erryk? Criston had already used up his one allotted Princess fucking and it turned him sour. Erryk would stay on Aegon’s list, the other men too plain ugly or on Dragonstone.

Too annoyed to try any decorum, Aegon simply kicked Aemond’s door open. The younger prince squawked in shock, his hair flying around. Why was there a portrait of Daemon? Why was there another half-finished portrait of Aemond obviously in the same style? Aegon spluttered, “What the fuck? You’re so weird! Daemon? Blech brother!”

Aemond, hair tied back and wearing simple clothes smudged with paint— was positively furious. He hollered, “Get the hell out! I’m not fornicating with our sister! She’s your wife! Say a word of this and I’m making you a Eunuch!”

Aegon was booted out, literally, as in Aemond’s big fucking boot kicked him in the arse.

“Should’ve known. Weirdo,” Aegon grumbled.

He limped back to his quarters, dreadfully needing a sip of wine and someone’s lips around his cock. Today was dreadful. He actually tried to do something. Which trying was rare for him! The prince went to open his door, only to step back when Ser Criston exited.

He raised a brow. Criston looked at him blankly, dark eyes placid. Aegon asked, “What were you doing?” The Kingsguard scoffed, “Your sister was having a fit about a spider, I heard her yowling and killed said spider. Goodnight my prince.”

Aegon glared at the surly marcher, shaking his head and entering the chambers. He immediately went to the table and drank straight from the bottle, deep, deep pulls of relief. The blonde placed it down and sighed, turning towards his bed.

His wife sat there, eyes wide, wearing only her askew shift. Aegon bitched, “Oh. Nice to see you too. Maybe a ‘Hello lord husband, how are you?’ would suffice.”

The Princess’ cheeks were pink. He guessed from the embarrassment of having Ser Criston kill a small bug. Then explained again why Ser Criston had to kill a small bug. She mumbled, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were at the brothels.”

Aegon plopped down in a chair, grabbing the bottle. He whined, “Nope! Been trying to find out who your mystery lover is all day. No one wants to pipe up! I should’ve gone.”

She gazed downwards, biting on swollen lips. The princess stood up on shaky legs, making her way to Aegon and kneeling between his lax thighs. She hummed, tracing a finger up one, feeling the muscle twitch. His sister mused, “Can I take your mind off this mystery lover? You’re much more desirable to me. Don't they say the blood of the dragon reaches out to another?”

“Sure, definitely” he whined again. Aegon would pout this out, it was his specialty. He honestly was hurt, why couldn’t he know their identity? Sure he’d get jealous and probably ban her from seeing them but still! He was sad!

“Am I that unappealing to you?” he whimpered, tears pricking at violet eyes, frustration and self-pity leaking over.

She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The princess laid her head upon his thigh and cooed, “No. You’re my husband, my blood, we are a union now. That partnership…started because I was afraid you would find me boring. So I wanted to know how to please a man.”

Aegon sulked and sniffled some more, taking another deep drink from his goblet. The familiar fuzz was coming along nicely, patching up his insecurities. But it was nice to hear her admit a smidgeon of truth. She kissed his leg and continued, “Aegon dear, have I not pleased you? It was a transaction between the person and me. They wished to make their identity a secret so as not to catch your wroth. I no longer see them like that. I hate that you’re upset, I did this for you.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a bit better. His sister was good. She easily melted his pouting protocol. The female Targaryen rubbed his thighs and moved her mouth to hover over his clothed cock, eyes looking up as she breathed, “Now baby, just relax and let me make this better, hm?”

He moaned softly as she mouthed over his swelling member, nimble fingers untying his breeches, other hand massaging the soft flesh and meat of his thigh. She eased Aegon’s cock and his sac out, groaning with a flutter of her long lashes. The prince squirmed a bit, breathing heavier, holding off a whine.

“Just you and me, sweet baby.”

She was increasingly convincing kitten licking the ruddy head of his prick like that. The girl’s dainty hand wrapped around his length, the other going to hold his balls, keeping them nice and compressed. Aegon’s back arched when she eased him into a silky wet mouth, tongue massaging the underside as his wife hollowed her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Aegon responded with a noise he’d rather not dwell on. It was very…emasculating. Gods, she was so good at this. He needed to get over his qualms and just fuck her so good the princess wouldn't stray again. Good and obedient- all for Aegon. He eased her off gently, demanding, "Lay across the bed. Now."

Wide purple eyes stared at him. She murmured, "What? I- I don't need that, let me take care of you."

Aegon shook his head, grinning, the drink emboldening him. Something about Arbor Red made him impossibly aroused and giddy. He jerked his chin toward the plush bed and laughed. His sister got up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She padded and leaned her body over the bed, long legs spread, chemise discarded to display her swollen cunt to him.

Aegon pulled off his breeches as he stalked over, eyes drinking in her pussy. He smacked a hand across her ass and grabbed the stinging flesh. He asked roughly "Did your mystery lover sneak out the servant's exit when Ser Criston heard your yowling?"

"Yes, yes! Sorry, fucking yes!" she shouted.

Aegon's face darkened at her puffy and slick cunt, obvious signs of someone having a feast down there. He ran the blunt tip of his swollen cock across her folds, groaning as he smacked her clit. The prince snapped "You're a goddamn lying slut you know that? A match made in heaven with me huh? Did Ser Criston walk in when you were getting your cunt licked?" He wound a fist in her blonde tresses, pulling it tight.

She shivered and shook her head, whining, "N-ohh, he didn't see!"

"Hm, sure, probably took a peak, the weird bitch. Whatever, I guess I'll have to fuck this person out of your mind? Or you're coming with me to the brothels sister dearest."

He slid into her tight hole, gasping at the ridges and warmth. Aegon tightened the fist in her hair. Maybe he'd fuck a babe in her tonight, then she'd be stuck in his quarters surrounded by maesters and tittering handmaidens. Eugh. Aegon huffed and fucked her at a brisk pace, his other hand smacking her ass every other thrust.

His sister-wife moaned, taking his cock like she was made for it. She fucked back onto him, back arched, tits bouncing. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed as she panted Aegon's name, eyes wet and wide. Aegon leaned over her form and growled, "Don't know who this fucker is but I will find out. He better know whose cunt this is, eh? Shout it, tell the whole goddamn keep who you belong to, sister."

Aegon relished in her little whimper, his fingers pinching her clit as he forced her hips up to drive into her good spot harder. He bit and lapped at her neck, hissing, "C'mon and say it or I'll lock your ass up here with no visitors. Just me and I'll get my fill, fucking snake." She blubbered, seizing around his cock a hair.

"Oh gods, please don't make me howl like that, Aegon, please!"

He fucked the princess rougher, holding her gaze with a tight grip around her chin. She bit her lip, eyes mournful before shouting, "Only you Aegon, I belong to you, yes big brother! Yes! I belong to my husband!"

Aegon grinned like the cat that got the cream. He cooed, "Good little sister, knew you still had it in you." He gripped her throat and refocused on fucking her until she cried. Aegon pinched and licked, played with her tits, circled her clit until she came all over him- yet the prince was still fit to go. Sweet sister was a mess now- covered in bites and hickeys, sweaty hair plastered to her neck. The younger blonde whimpered, "Aeg- Aegon, I- I can't possibly do this again!"

Her eyes were frantic, her cute body shaking and coming apart wondrously. Aegon hummed, "You will come for me again sweetling. I know you can, just whining on my prick like you were paid for it? Does he fuck you like this huh? Make you see stars?"

"N-noooo, only you!"

"Good girl, come on now, wanna feel that sweet pussy of yours cream around me one more time. Then I'll fill you up deep- maybe he won't come around when you are all ripe with," he punctuated his next words with thrusts, "My. Goddamn. Child."

The princess wailed softly, overused and overstimulated. She felt the crest of another burning orgasm flaring up and forcing red hot tears down her blotchy cheeks. It was intense and she cried harder when Aegon's thick seed stuffed her twitching cunt and womb to the brim. He seemed to be satisfied now, cooing at her, "There we go, ffuck, that's my sweet girl. See, don't need anyone else around now hm?"

Aegon wiped her gorgeous tears, smiling victoriously. She cuddled into his arms, letting her husband soothe and stroke her trembling flesh. He even hollered for a servant to grab some water. The prince murmured, "You did so good, such a good wife, yes, maybe just a bit of punishment does sweet sister well." He grew quieter and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead, "I love you, truly, for tolerating a failure like me."

She smiled softly and pecked Aegon's full lips, her own swollen from tonight. Aegon wiped her tears as she sighed, "I love you too Aegon. Buffoon you may be. I hope the seed takes. No more about mystery lovers. The whole keep has heard now sweetheart."

Aegon smirked, hoping every single soul heard.

One soul in particular did, his black gloves tightening in annoyance. He was down the hall before turning back and having to hear the heir...rudely fuck his sister-wife. With a growl and swish of the cloak, the true mystery lover was gone. She'd be back in his arms sooner or later. Aegon couldn't fuck him out of her soft heart.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

You are Safe - Deepest Desires

//One shot of Deepest Desires - Astarion Drabble. Very fluffy/comforting smut with many feelings. Not edited... Song Rec: Light by Sleeping at Last//

Explicit, Astarion x f!Tav, post cannon, 2.2k

cw: coping with sex/intimacy issues & allusions to Astarion's past

Astarion Ancunin was a sight to behold in any light.

The moon might make him look like some ethereally wicked beauty, but Tav much preferred the golden glow they were bathed in now. 

She sank into the plush leather sofa near the crackling hearth, cradling a cup of mulled wine. The spiced aroma chased away the chill of the night fallen outside the inn as her eyes drew lazily over the trophies adoring the walls—swords, shields, mounted heads of beasts. Theirs was just another story to add to the collection. 

Tav might be warmer still, without the vampire stretched out languidly beside her, but she would not give up the comfort of his closeness for the world.

“You know, I still don’t like being the hero. It is beyond tedium. ”

Astarion mused over the rim of his cup, as if he could detect her thoughts and had to refute them. 

“That so? You play the part so well.” Tav quipped back lovingly. 

“Well, I suppose I do enjoy all of the fawning adulation.”  Astarion mused. “And the gold, of course.” 

Tav shook her head fondly. She’d let him maintain the charade as long as he liked; she had already seen under the mask. He sent a smirk her way, his ruby eyes glinting with the firelight. Distracting her from the way he was balancing his goblet on its very edge, one of his dexterous fingers on lip of the drink, tilting further and further as if he dared the wine inside to spill. 

Or he was simply teasing Tav with the threat of it. 

“Beggin’ your pardon,” The inn keeper, a matronly half-orc with a smile around her tusks approached them. “Finest room we have is ready for ya, token of our gratitude for dealin’ with our Worg problem.”

“Thank you, Gerda, that’s too kind of you.” Tav said graciously. “We’re happy we could help.” 

She shot her companion a glance, but he was intently finishing his wine with only a raise of his eyebrows. 

She felt Astarion’s eyes on her as she conversed cordially with the inn keeper, his gaze as tangible as a caress along her cheek. Tav knew the warmth of that look. Little flickering moments of unguarded affection more sincere than any pretty picture his words could paint. 

The only recognition Tav gave was the smile at the corner of her lips. Because that was the game they played. Sparing his pride until the rest of the world faded away. 

This. This was everything she fought for. These quiet nights  brighter than any flames. 

…

Soon they retreated to the comfort of their room after a long day. Astarion led her up the stairs, silently twining their fingers together. Tav knew it was another gesture she wasn’t supposed to linger on, but if he kept this up, the dam would burst sooner rather than later. 

He pushed the door to their chambers open with an overly theatrical flourish. “Not quite fit for a king…but I suppose it will do.” 

Tav rolled her eyes, stepping past him to take in a very comfortable room that was downright luxurious in its details. Plush carpet, dark wood walls, and a canopied bed piled with silken sheets and pillows. 

“After sleeping in bedrools on the hard ground,” Tav put her hands on her hips, a smile on her lips with her tone placating him. “I think it will suffice.” 

Astarion came up behind her then, his cool breath ghosting over her ear as he murmured. “Then it is a shame you will not have the time to admire the finer details.” 

In the second of warning he gave, Tav knew well he could hear every uptick of her heart.

Astarion had her spun around, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. Tav’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, her lover’s lithe body pinning her in place as he lifted their still entwined hands above her head. 

Those clever fingers hand already snuck under the hem of her tunic, drawing lines over the swell of her hip. 

“I have all that I need to admire.” Tav arched to the touch with a sigh as she finally exhaled. 

“Such flattery.” Astarion’s smirk was downright sinful, sending heat and want curling through her. Those ruby eyes glinted bright in the soft firelight of the room. 

Soon, their packs were dropped to the side, shedding the last trappings of battle with the armor and gore already tucked away. Leaving no more barriors between them as passion sparked in the scant space between them. His nibble fingers made quick work of the laces of her tunic, the fabric falling away to expose her collarbones, and her chest. 

Tav lifted her chin, playfully offering her neck, knowing how it thrilled him though he would not bite—not just yet. But Astarion would duck his head to draw his teeth teasingly along the colomn of her throat. 

She peered over his white curls. “My love, the door is still—” A sharp kick shut the door, and its lever lock clicked into place. “Thank you.” 

Astarion’s scoff tingled against her pulse point. He was far more preoccupied with mapping out the newly exposed skin, like it hadn’t been under his lips a thousand times. As if he wasn’t intimately familiar and once again confident with his ability to drive her mad. As if she didn’t know him just as well. 

When he pulled back to rid her of her pesky tunic, she used her chance. Tav’s fingers slid into his silky curls, just brushing her thumbs over the tips of his pointed ears. 

That got his attention. 

Astarion made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat, finding her mouth again. 

The kisses grew more urgent as Astarion pressed Tav back against the wood-paneled wall, her arms around his shoulders as he used his thigh to part hers. 

Easy as could be, like they were dancing together again. Tav took his lead, her leg hooked around his waist before he had to reach for her. Their bodies were brought flush together--letting her feel the hard press of his arousal. 

“It would be a shame,” Tav murmured against the vampire’s lips. “Not to make use of the bed, don’t you think? I know how much you do enjoy fine linens.” 

Astarion laughed, the sound decadent yet playful. “My darling, the only thing more appealing than being wrapped up in silk, is being wrapped up in you.” 

Heat flooded into her cheeks, just like he knew it would. Even now, his lines always worked on her. 

Tav reached for the hem of Astarion’s shirt, ridding him of it and letting it join her tunic on the floor. He was already walking her back towards the bed—but it just wasn’t enough to map out the planes of his chest with her fingers, hooking into the waist of his breaches. 

“Can I?” Tav lifted her eyes, her mouth already watering. 

“You hardly have to ask.” He purred, pecking her lips just once more. “But…I’m glad that you did.” 

She always would. Sometimes to his annoyance, but the vampire seemed more than in the mood to humor her sweetness tonight.  Astarion freed his cock from his breeches as he sat back on the bed, stroking himself languidly, watching her with bright ruby eyes as she eagerly sank to her knees. 

He was so damn gorgeous like this, confident in seeking his pleasure, knowing Tav was more than willing to give. 

Her hand curled around his, before she was drawing the tip of him between her lips. She adored the sweet, strangled sound he gave as he relenquished his hold to her, those deft fingers threading into her hair as she swallowed him down. 

Tav loved him like this. Loved that she was the one who got to see Astarion this way—wanting and vulnerable and utterly hers. 

She poured every ounce of devotion into the slide of her mouth, wanting him to shatter from it. For all pretense to fall away like the filthy praise faltering from his lips, and let her catch him when he fell. 

Astarion tensed under her, the muscles in his thighs and the hand in her hair gone ridgid. 

Tav pulled back, her eyes seeking his, looking for the glassy sheen to cover his red irises or the distance in his gaze. “You can let go, love.” lacing the reassurance his ego sometimes spurned in a seductive purr. “I want you to.” 

Astarion’s scoff was breathier than he intended, she could see it on his face, but the hand in her hair curled around her chin, capturing her jaw as he bent to claim her lips. 

“As tempting as that mouth of yours may be…I’d much rather be inside you.” 

Her pulse quickened under his hold. 

Tav was on her feet, ridding herself of any thing that could get between them. Before straddling Astarion’s lap. Reveling in his groan as he tasted himself on her tongue. 

Those damned fingers of his were already delving between her soaked folds, thumbing her clit so perfectly it was maddening in an instant. 

“Astarion, please…” Tav breathed against his mouth. 

“I know darling.” His grin nipped at her lower lip, fingers sliding into her and curling just so. “No one knows you as I do.”

He was distracting her, and he was so very, very good at it. Tav rocked needily into him, pleasure sparking up her spine. Her fingers  clutched into the fine curls at the back of his neck. Trying to ground herself to meet his burning gaze. 

“No one loves you as I do.” 

Something beautifully yearning moved across his face. The ghost of a longing to be known—and to still be loved. It was all he could never bring himself to ask for, and yet she gave it, freely, whenever she thought he may need it. 

The next meeting of their lips was filled with nothing but tenderness, even as he pulled her closer still, breaking only as he filled her completely. 

Astarion’s grip tightened on her hips, and Tav understood. 

She let him bear her back onto the plush bed, surrendering to his need for control. Her hands fell back to either side of the pillow, as she searched the ethereal beauty of his face above her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lost to the old shadows. 

Clear crimson eyes gazed back at her, their only darkness that of desire. 

Satisfied, Tav wrapped her legs around Astarion’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. He obliged her with a precise roll of his hips that nearly had stars bursting behind her eyelids. 

“That’s it, my love.” Astarion purred, his breath played over her lips as his body moved with hers, sweet and aching, their fingers wound together even as he kept her wrists pinned. 

Tav could feel the edge of her bliss tugging at her, the way she clenched desperately around his cock, it was so damn close—

Astarion shuddered above her, tensing on instinct, resisting that final surrender, even now. His old wounds would never go fully away, but she could soothe them when they surfaced. Because she knew him. 

“Let go, my love, I have you.” 

He did, spilling into her with a choked cry, his hips snapping hard and fast into hers, sending pleasure that arched up her spine until it overwhelmed her. 

Spent, still tangled together, collapsed together. 

Astarion’s cool skin was a balm against her heated body, when he finally released her hands. Tav’s arms wrapped around him, feeling the faintest of trembling in the raw moments after.  He hid his face crook of her shoulder, letting her fingers slide through his curls. 

Tav shifted only enough to bare her throat to him, remembering how he teased that she tasted better shortly after their coupling. 

Far from a distraction, it was a gesture of the intimate trsut they shared. Astarion only hesitated a moment, before sharp fangs pierced her skin, and Tav relaxed into the familiar heat and sting. 

He drank from her, lost in the bliss of her blood. Comforted by the familiarity of it. 

When the vampire pulled back, a trickle of red dripped from his grin, and Tav swiped it away with her thumb. 

Astarion turned his face into her touch, a kiss pressed into her palm. Before he gathered her into his arms for the rest of the night. 

…

Golden sunlight crept across the room as dark became day. 

Astarion stayed with his head tucked under Tav’s chin, her heart beat a comforting rhythm against his ear. He stirred only as the warm glow softened his sharp features, and she finally gave in to the urge to trace the contours of his face. 

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking hers. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek in turn, the warmth of the Ring of Daylight around his fourth finger a delicious contrast to his cool skin. 

“Looking for a cuddle?” he asked, his tone playful yet tender, echoing their first morning together.

Tav laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Always,” she replied, her heart swelling with love for this man who had come so far, who had learned to trust and to love despite everything he’d endured.

Their fingers intertwined with the comforting sound of his ring meeting hers. Warmed by the golden light forevermore. 

[diyasgarden]

Part 1

Somewhere in Ohio, 2013

"You know I expected bad writing, but not whatever it was," Tashi says the minute you sit down in front of her at the restaurant. Straight to the point. No introductions. Not formalities. It makes you like her even more. You barely have a spare moment to process her presence. She was pretty in all the videos you watched and pictures you saw during the research, but in front of you she's like a goddess.

"You thought my writing would be bad?" you ask back way to quickly. You've just met her and you're desperate for her approval.

Tashi just shrugs in response, as she takes a sip of her wine. "It's a small local paper. Didn't expect some amateur Joan Didion to be writing articles."

"Well everyone starts somewhere," you say again. Once again it comes out quickly. Too eager. You're being too eager. You mentally chastise yourself for this.

Tashi looks at you for a moment as if processing your words. For a moment you think she's going to laugh in your face, but then slowly gives you a small smile. You feel like a student who just gave the the right answer in class. You have physically bite back a sigh of relief as she does so by chewing on the inside of the cheek.

"No you're definitely a gifted writer that's for sure," with a little nod, she takes another sip of wine. You want to lift up the glass and lick the mark her lipstick leaves on it. Get a grip.

"Thanks," is all you manage to say as you take the glass of water in front of you and sip on it to maintain composure.

Tashi looks at you for a moment, as if mulling over her next words. "It's a shame you're writing for a paper only people in this sad town care about."

Oh. Okay so she wasn't wrong. You only wrote here because this is your town. It's where you grew up, but not even you could deny that it was irrelevant.

"My husband is from this state," she adds with a shrug. "That's why he was excited for the article."

You know it wasn't a nice article about Art, but you can't help but ask "Did he like it?"

Tashi slowly nods in response. Oh. Not the answer you were expecting. Then she goes, "He agrees."

Your eyebrows furrow. Agreed about what? That he was only good because of Tashi?

"That you're a good writer," she then says with eye contact that you think may actually be piercing into your soul.

"Oh," is all that slips out of your mouth.

"And that your talent is probably wasted here."

You have no response to that. A part of you feels a thrill at the fact that someone so talented, can identify talent within you. The other part feels ashamed that she thinks its wasted.

Before you can put together something to say in response Tashi stands up. You watch her with a frown. She was leaving?

She stands there for a moment, just looking at you. She then lists out couple of numbers, and it takes you a moment before you realize she's saying her phone number.

"Got that?" she asks. You nod, and you both know you've already committed to memory. "Text me when you realize you could do more than this."

You just watch as she picks up the purse and slings it onto her shoulder in the most graceful way you've seen anyone do it before.

"You're not staying to eat?" the disappointment a little too apparent in your voice.

Tashi just lets out a little laugh in response as she walks away from you. You watch her retreating figure before turning back to the table she left you at.

You look at the little wine left in her glass. Without a second thought you reach over the table to finish it off, placing your lips over the mark her lipstick left.

You send her that message as soon as you get home.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas 2023: Day 1. Chimney Soot | Hans/Reader

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

Being in a relationship with Hans Gruber wasn’t easy. You often went long periods of time without seeing him as he’d be off pulling some heist somewhere, and sometimes he had to go into hiding too, to evade the authorities. But he always came back to you in the end.

His next heist was in America, and to your upset he apparently had to do it on Christmas Eve, meaning he’d miss Christmas Day with you. To make up for it, the two of you planned to have your own Christmas a week earlier.

The only problem was, he wasn’t home yet. You fell asleep expecting to wake up in his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen. You waited, and waited, and by noon you were sulking.

He finally arrived at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, his coat covered in flakes of snow and his very grumpy partner sitting on the couch, drinking mulled wine and feeling sorry for yourself.

“[Y/n], I am so sorry I’m late,” Hans said, brushing the snow from his coat before hanging it up. “Karl set off an alarm like a novice, so we had to lay low for a while. But I’m here now and I’m so glad to be home with you, liebling.”

You folded your arms and gave him your best death stare, but it was hard to maintain it when he just looked so dashingly handsome in his Armani suit.

“I’ve spent all day alone!” you complained. “If you were in such trouble, why is your suit still so impeccable, hm? I find it hard to believe you’ve been running around hiding from dei Polizei without even a speck of dust on your sleeve!”

Hans looked down at his suit, as if he were surprised to see he was still wearing it.

“I’m sorry, liebling. You’re right - hang on.” He knelt down next to the fire, which had almost died down by now, and scooped up a handful of soot, then smeared it on his clothes. “Is that better?”

“Hans!” you protested. “You love that suit!”

“Ah, but I love you more, liebling. And if you want me dirty, I shall be dirty.”

You rolled your eyes and put your glass of wine back on the coffee table, then knelt down next to Hans and started trying to dust him off.

“That’s not the kind of dirty I like you to be and you know it, silly man. Damn - it’s not coming off. You’ll have to take the clothes off instead.”

“Oh, how dreary,” Hans replied sarcastically. “Very well, if you insist.”

He pulled the jacket from his shoulders, then loosened his tie and that too was off, quickly followed by his shirt. Then, he scooped up even more soot, and ‘accidentally’ dropped it on your clothing too.

“Oh, no, what a shame! Your jumper will have to come off too.”

You sighed at his antics, but you both knew you secretly enjoyed it, so your jumper came off, followed by the t-shirt you were wearing underneath.

“There was no soot on your t-shirt, [Y/n],” Hans remarked with a raised eyebrow.

“I know,” you smirked. “I just thought you might feel more comfortable if I’m as naked as you are.”

“Ah, liebling, you are a cheeky minx. And that is what I love so dearly about you.”

Hans leaned forward to kiss you, and as his lips connected with yours, all your frustrations at him melted away. He loved you, and his tardiness aside, still he came home to you for your own little Christmas. That was all that mattered.

[pedroshotwifey]

Wifey's Christmas Countdown 2023 - A Collection

Happy holidays, friendos! These will be posted once a day at 9:30 am est every day dec. 1 - 24th and will contain a mixture of smut, fluff, angst, and mentions of Christmas. I hope you enjoy! 💚❤️💚

I also want to put it out there that I am using this challenge to experiment with some of the tropes/kinks that I haven't worked with just yet. Not all of the fics will be for experimental purposes, but a select few will contain "unpopular" kinks/tropes/whatever (dead dove, mommy kink, ect.), so please just keep in mind that people have the right to like what they like and there is no shame in that. If you don't like it, don't read it. That said, I would love some positive feedback so I know what to write more of! Thank you lovelies!! <3

Key:

🍷- Smut

✨ - Fluff

🖤 - Angst

🎄 - Christmas or mentions of Christmas

Day 1 - mistletoe - Javi P. (1k) ✨🎄mentions🍷

Day 2 - Din Djarin - Shower sex (960) 🍷 ✨

Day 3 - Christmas shopping - Jack Daniels/Whiskey (1.5k)🍷✨🎄

Day 4 - Joel Miller - Love confession (1.7k) ✨🎄

Day 5 - fake relationship - Marcus Pike (1.5k) 🍷✨🎄

Day 6 - Javier Peña - Forced orgasm (908) 🍷🖤

Day 7 - christmas lights - Jack Daniels/Whiskey (1.6k) 🖤✨🎄

Day 8 - Maxwell Lord - Mommy kink (2.1k) 🍷✨

Day 9 - holiday baking - Dieter Bravo (1.4k) 🍷✨🎄

Day 10 - Marcus Moreno - Sex pollen (1.1k) 🍷

Day 11 - too much eggnog - Frankie Morales (975) ✨ some🎄&🖤

Day 12 - Javi Gutierrez - High sex (1.4k) ✨🍷

Day 13 - snuggles - Joel miller (549) ✨

Day 14 - Oberyn Martell - Lingerie (1.4k) ✨🍷

Day 15 - presents - Frankie Morales (1.5k) ✨🎄🍷

Day 16 - Dieter Bravo - In public (1.1k)🍷

Day 17 - mulled wine - Joel Miller (1.7k) ✨🍷🎄

Day 18 - Frankie Morales - Restraints (1k) 🍷🎄

Day 19 - naughty or nice - Joel Miller (1.3k)🎄🍷✨

Day 20 - Dave York - Noncon (2.2k) 🍷🖤 DDDNE

Day 21 - christmas movie - Marcus Pike (863) ✨🎄

Day 22 - Ezra Prospect - Tentacles (1.2k) 🍷

Day 23 - foodcoma - Jack Daniels (673) 🍷✨

Day 24 - DBF - Joel Miller (884) ✨🎄🍷

[immoralimmortals]

Akatsuki Member Songs and Headcanons Part 2

I told you I could do this post over again with new songs! Some of the associations are more based on headcanon than others. The songs are linked in the headers. Hope you enjoy!

Hidan: BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA by Will Wood

This song...is definitely about someone who cannot die. Whats more: it is also definitely someone who has a strange relationship with pain and suffering. Hidan in canon so very clearly dislikes being in pain if he is not in his ritual form. Simultaneously, he says he'd love if someone managed to kill him. (I know he may be sarcastic but imagine the possibilities if he's not!) He's a gratuitous man of contradictions and confidence, and I think this song carries it well. Throughout are mentioned symbols of health and longevity in grotesque situations. You KNOW this man's body is fucked up, both by his hand and others. I want to cut him open and study him like an anatomical doll. The whole "interview" in the middle is me eventually grabbing him by the collar and going what the hell is fucking wrong with you! How can a severed head breathe and talk!

I've also heard that WW wrote this as a test to himself to get as many words in a normal length song as possible. It suits how much Hidan fucking talks. I also think it's a nice nod to the fact that he quite obviously introspects and thinks *a lot* despite being portrayed as headstrong and stupid.

Notable lyrics:

And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history

His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead

You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

Sasori: Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert

Something I've mulled over a long time is how the contradiction of how a man who prefers things to be long-lasting can also be so impatient. My interpretation so far is that this implies some level of anxiety; he wants things to last if they are comfortable for him to exist. That's why he doesn't mind his fight with Kankuro taking longer, despite just bashing Deidara for playing around. I think l, in perhaps the kindest way I can, that he is both shallow and more sensitive than he'll ever admit.

This is a song about wanting interactions condensed. If you tell me something bad, get it over with. But also, I don't know how to give you more than what I have. He's insecure about what he emotionally brings to the table, im sure. I figure that's a big reason he's destroying his humanity down to the core.

Notable lyrics:

Keep it quick, say it brief If it's fast, it will be a relief Short on time, that's a gift Count your seconds, and they'll catch the drift

Don't like what's revealed here When your depth of field's near, it's hard to come close Chip stones from the boulder Suddenly, my vulnerability shows Oh, you can crop and trim, 'till all that's left Is the essence of a presence that is feeling bereft Avant-garde, just the gist of a tale That is less of an image, and more of a thumbnail

How novel is a novel that can fit on one sheet It seems that I'm destined to fail To compress myself to the size of a thumbnail

Itachi: Blood on My Name by The Brothers Bright

Need I say more? Lots of individual lines that match up with his circumstances, especially his imminent death and the bodies he unfortunately racked up. And...of course...the Uchiha name is bloody as hell. His fate is inevitable, it is in stone and he is dragging his corpse to the finish line.

Notable lyrics:

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you With the hounds of hell comin' after you I've got blood And I've got blood on my name

When the fires, when the fires are consuming you And your sacred stars won't be guiding you

Can't you see I'm sorry? I will make it worth your while Made of dead man's money You can see it in my smile Oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? Oh, Lazarus, were you so afraid?

It won't be long, 'til I'm dead and gone Watch the fires rise, burn through my skin Down to the bone, scorchin' my soul

Konan: Saturn by Sleeping at Last

As tragic as life is, Konan is defined by her hope. This song references how others have come around time after time to help her see the light. This is a song that gets me emotional. It is slow, lingering, and forces you to drink it all in, every star and sorrow alike.

Notable lyrics: its literally the whole song so here's one verse

You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly, even after death With shortness of breath You explained the infinite And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

Deidara: Boss by The Correspondents

This man HATES his fucking job! He was just out there, vibing, and was forced to be an Akatsuki and remains more or less to exact revenge on an idea (that the Sharingan is perfect art). Petty bitch! But he kind of has a point, at least with the being forced to be Akatsuki part.

Notable lyrics:

I would love for this to not be an issue I would love to just laugh in your face But I'm finding it hard to dismiss you When you're the one running the place

We didn't ask for you to lead us We didn't want you to be boss You have done nothing but deceive us And it exacerbates our goals

Kakuzu: Six Feet by Patent Pending

This song is nearly perfect for my headcanons about him. The world is harsh, you must do as you must. He takes no joy in it. His ability to understand you or not does not affect your situation or relationship as shibobi. It is going to be what it is regardless. We are going to work until we die.

Notable lyrics:

When you hear that whistle blow, only the weakest go home Like their pain don't put food on their plate

You're keeping up, I see Well, it's a big world and it's only getting bigger And if you wanna be the best then you've gotta beat the best

Ain't nobody coming when you make the call 'Cause every man gunnin' for the first to fall Fill that bucket 'til the well runs dry It's left, right, left, 'til the day you die

Zetsu: Stalker's Tango by Autoheart

GREAT song if you want one for a ship with him. Describes over the course of its verses the increasing invasiveness and intensity of a stalker's relationship with the listener. References to being able to appear anywhere AND shape-shifting? Bonus! Also has a very calm yet arrogant, self assured air about the singer. I think it's great for him. I can imagine myself tied up in a chair while he explains himself to me with this song.

Notable lyrics:

I know, I know, I know this situation's strange It takes a little getting, a little getting used to

I know, I know, I know I'm always in your place But don't you see, my dear? I am your Doppelgänger I have your face

It's not that complicated, no matter what they say You'll never meet another me It's not that difficult to get your head around You'll never meet another me You'll never-never-never-ever-ever meet another me

Pain: Godhunter by Aviators

Hunting tailed beasts while claiming to be a god himself? A song where perhaps the godhunter becomes so powerful shes a God to be hunted???? YES!

...okay that last bit is largely my own very indulgent interpretation of this song. But I LOVE how it would suit him, being both the god and the godhunter in the plot of the story.

Notable lyrics: its literally the whole thing. Here's some cherry picked lines.

When you're holding on to majesty You'd fear the hunt, a travesty That balance may return

If you're something more than flesh, ascended And you've taken on the rest To end it then she'll find you in a dream, tormented Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

Tobi/Obito: The End of the Rope by They Might Be Giants

Who doesn't love a good villain song? You could almost think it's from a musical, how dramatic and explanatory it is. Very good representation of the heel turns this man makes to the protagonists throughout his character arc.

Notable lyrics: its the whole song. Here's the first verse.

How thoughtless of me How dumb can you be? Hopeless, wasn't that What you called me? And in fact It was even more true than you knew

Kisame: Delirium Tremendous by Felix Hagan & the Family

Kisame's a bit of what the kids would call, uh…blackpilled? He enjoys himself, yeah definitely, but he also knows he's a special kind of traitor, the lowest of the low. In my book, that makes him a little less low than some other villains in the series, but he would not agree.

To me, this song is a couple things. Most obviously, delirium tremens after drinking. Next overtly, it's about not being able to fit in. More specifically, it's about not being able to fit in among misfits who are defined by their abnormality, their abhorrent nature to regular society. He is a very alienated man, he wants the good, but he has accepted he is not and that the world as it is will never be that way unless someone else (Tobi/Madara, in his view) takes it by the reigns and changes everything about how it works. He yearns for something he does not feel he has earned or deserves. It captures a lot of vibes and emotions I associate with Kisame all at once: lonliness, sensation, aggressiveness, fighting, longing. AND it's a fucking bop!

Notable lyrics:

What would make you get so battered That your bones betray you, start to shatter And you can’t relate to all the happy little night-time boys and girls

Save breath, crave death Can’t be much worse And I'm sick, sigh, can’t abide This twitching track from wet to dry I’m too old to cry, too young to die Too rabid for the pack So I’ll spit, try to hold it in Search for a sign of life within And I’ll fake a grin, until my skin Is starting to crack

So just stay cool and break through this sick delirium state I got wasted, now I’m tasting the cruel justice of fate

[impossible-rat-babies]

— B A S I C S

name: eyrie kisne nicknames: none. they inherited the title "the ephemeral shepherd" after the end of the pandaemonium raids age: 150~ years old nameday: 22nd sun of the 4th astral moon (07/22) race: veena + rava viera gender: nonbinary orientation: do not particularly care profession: adventurer + craftsman

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T

hair: reddish brown with streaks of pale blonde + a few grey hairs at their temples and near their ears. there are a few bald spots near the base of their ears from an intense trichotillomania flare up ~15 years ago eyes: warm dark brown skin: well worn and lightly tanned with copious amounts of sun spots, freckles and moles. a section of bleached white skin runs the length of their spin, spreading out across their shoulders and lower back. tattoos/scars: light brown tattoos of the same design as their maternal grandmother decorate their fingers and hands. their hands and forearms bleached to a pale white—almost marble like to the touch. they have too many scars to dare count them, but a notably large scar stretches from just below their sternum to right above their belly button from a reaper scythe through their chest.

— F A M I L Y

parents: their mother--yelva--is alive and well back in the forest. tending to her great grand children and her goats. their father, azmi, died in an accident during the later parts of eyrie’s wood warder training. siblings: two older sisters named lilja and brita, and one fraternal twin brother named odvirn, all of whom are alive grandparents: deceased/unknown in laws and other: none they are close with. they do have copious amounts of nieces and nephews from their sisters, but their brother has no living children. they also have seven children of their own. pets: cricket (a ferret familiar, unknowingly summoned) + flower (a carbuncle inherited upon the death of the first WoL in the coils of bahamut) + gingko (their chocobo who chose them once they finished their paladin training)

— S K I L L S

abilities: brd + smn + war/drk + ast. also trained in the tradition of the disgraced paladins of ishgard. they have some small talent in conjury, but refuse to pursue the matter further on account of “personal issues” hobbies: whittling, landscape drawing, playing various instruments (lute and pan pipes), gardening, sewing + embroidery + mending clothes

— T R A I T S

most positive traits: selfless, compassionate, loving, paternal

most negative traits: selfless, quiet, liar, shameful and guilty, vindictive, patronizing

— L I K E S

colours: russet brown, maroon, olive green, ivory, pale gold smells: oil pastels, aether, chamomile, blood textures: linen, feathers, homemade paper, oil, silky fur and rough wool drinks: mead, mulled wine, fermented sheep's milk

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

smokes: briefly and socially some 25 years ago. they have some fleeting happy memories associated with the smell of garlean cigarettes. drinks: very occasionally and only socially with familiar company drugs: mild relaxants to help them sleep when the terrors get really bad + occasional pain meds to ease chronic pains mount issuance: "this note just says you can do what you want." been arrested: yes, several times by the brass blades in ul'dah after the calamity. mostly for petty crimes, but also inciting violence + bar fights + violence against members of the brass blades. (to which that was mostly violence in defense of the poor and the refugees the brass blades took for easy targets. they didn’t kill anyone though)

--

@redwayfarers and @galpalaven tagged me in this meme ages ago and i finally got around to doing it! im gonna tag: @fourteenthz, @gatheredfates, @hinganskies, @aethergazing and whomever else!

[anabdaniels]

Drinking mulled wine

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female Reader

Word counting: 630

Rating: +18

Warning: Kinda dirty talk, nasophilia is in the room with us once more (I can't shut up about Jack's nose, I'm sorry), drunk reader trying to hook up with Jack.

Main Masterlist | Cowboycember Masterlist

Four cups of mulled wine probably wasn't a good idea, but who could blame you for it? Jack had decided to do his mother's recipe on that cold afternoon and somehow, he was even better than her on it.

“I can drink a full liter of this.” You said with a silly smile walking around the living room, starting to be touched by the alcohol.

“I can see it.” Jack answered after taking a sip of his wine, smirking slightly. You laughed and walked towards him, letting your empty cup on the coffee table and mounting on his lap, resting your forearms on his shoulders. “What's it?” Jack questioned holding your face between his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I can't want my husband anymore?” You inquired in a slurred voice.

“Of course you can. Even though you're way too drunk for anything else.” He answered in a gentle tone, still caressing your cheeks.

“I still remember my SSN and the safe code of your bank card, so I ain't that drunk.” You did your best to sound convincing.

“I can argue on that.” Jack chuckled and kept caressing your face.

“You're such a killjoy sometimes.” You mumbled resting your hands on his face, taking a good look at him and smiling “You’re so gorgeous.” You sounded highly tipsy and leaned forward, kissing his forehead, then the space between his eyebrows and his nasal bridge. Realizing the thoughts going through your mind, you giggled and rested your forehead against his.

“What’s it?” Jack asked curious.

“I like your nose.” You admitted without a single crumb of shame thanks to the alcohol “Unquestionably your best feature.” You leaned slightly back, running your index finger down his nose.

“The best?” he raised one eyebrow, slightly doubtful.

“I mean, not that I ain’t a total sucker for the rest of you, especially your neck, and hands, and arms, and cock, but I have thoughts over your nose that I wouldn’t dare say out loud.” You chuckled while still caressing his nose.

“I’ll make you clarify this when you get sober because you can’t be for real.” Jack chuckled and shook his head, softly massaging your shoulders.

“I am.” You retorted promptly “If you only had an idea of the dirty thoughts I have every time I look at your side profile…”

“I suppose the girls in my high school times didn’t think the same.” Just after having said it Jack realized that he might have just put himself in trouble.

“What was it? Pinocchio, toucan, or oxygen thief?” you asked already laughing.

“All them.” He shrugged and laughed.

“My poor toucan cowboy.” You said with a fun tone, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Excuse me?” he raised his eyebrows, trying really hard to seem serious.

“Since you think I’m too drunk to fuck, I’ll disturb you for my entertainment.” You shrugged still caressing his nose.

“Don’t get me wrong, I just don’t feel comfortable with you being so tipsy, especially when I’m completely sober.” Jack admitted rubbing your arms.

“You’re the best husband in this world.” You said with a silly smile, leaning to kiss the space between his eyebrows “Your decline because I’m too drunk just turned me on even more. I mean, you got unfairly hot being responsible and serious.” Once more you admitted your thoughts with no shame left.

“My god, you’re a piece, honeybee.” He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.

“You’re the one to blame for all the alcohol I consumed today.” You raised your eyebrows and squeezed his cheeks

“Only fair that I deal with the consequences of it.” Jack smirked and leaned back on the sofa, more than happy to let you entertain yourself by squeezing and nudging him.

[dungeonbent]

loseyns / mulled wine

The whole dried spices in the mortar seem to you rather tauntingly staring. You hold the pestle tight in hand, uncomfortably reminded of the school days spent attempting to mix alchemical ingredients in the same way, and wonder how you ended up in this situation.

You've never so much as stepped foot in a kitchen. In much of the elven Court's cooking is a dreadful lack of spice which Porrim only ever attempted to rectify with secret vials of dubiously spicy liquids.

Your name is KANAYA MARYAM, and Sir Egbert has entrusted you with the creation of an ingredient known as 'powdered douce'. Still reeling from shame from your escapades the night before and not wanting to let the poor tallman know of your previous death, you wordlessly took up the task, and now you are regretting every decision that has led to your continued lifespan.

You know that there is a grain of paradise inside the mortar. There is dried ginger and nutmeg and cinnamon. There is even a bit of sugar, but not enough to make this a sweet dish, though the way that Sir Egbert dumps flour on the other side of the table may trick you otherwise. You are not sure if there is enough paradise in this world to make the atmosphere feel any less awkward than it is right now. To compensate, you add another little peppery grain of the stuff and begin to grind.

There is a heady scent from the cauldron on the fire as Sir Egbert quietly sets about his task, making a well in the flour with practiced hands. They are the calloused hands of a baker and a seafarer- the kind of hands used to hard work and backed with muscle.

With one hand, he slowly pours a bit of water in the well and mixes with the flour. You continue scraping the wooden sides of the mortar when he asks, "Did you have fun last night?"

You startle, nearly dropping the pestle. You instead grip it tighter and beg your mouth to move. The only thing that falls out is, "I suppose." and you want to brain yourself immediately. Clearing your throat, you add, "I, ah... became a little caught up in the festivities."

"That's easy to do," Sir Egbert says in a plain sort of voice, "There's a lot on offer, and plenty to drink with."

"Yes- the drinking was mostly what preoccupied me," As well as the death, but. That isn't something you can so easily bring up.

"My June was the same way," Sir Egbert says, and your stomach drops. You can't look at him. The past tense makes bile want to crawl up your throat, and you don't know how to deal with the vulnerability. You continue grinding powdered douce.

You ask in a measured voice, "Was she?"

"Mostly just during the festival- she tried to hide it most nights, but sometimes our house was the one to host her friends when no one else wanted to go home." You're afraid to see what sort of expression is on his face. You peek up to see his flour-caked fingers forming an amorphous white lump.

"I see." You say, for lack of anything better to say.

Sir Egbert says, "Sometimes, I even had to carry her to bed- just like when she was a child." You slowly look up to see Sir Egbert's face, and it's worse than what you feared. The sorrow is there, yes- the grief remains.

But the tallman smiles so gently as he kneads, working the tender memory into the dough. The resignation is what makes you want to flinch the most.

You work in silence for a while after that. You aren't good at figuring out what to say in situations like this; aren't good at comforting gestures, at putting thoughts into verbal assurance and lifting burdens that you cannot directly touch.

Over time, Sir Egbert miraculously turns his well of flour into a good dough, kneading with precise, practiced movements. The contents of your mortar are filled with a dull brown powder. You continue to grind and say, "I met a woman named Feferi, last night. And some of her friends."

"Ah, Feferi," Sir Egbert nods with approval, "She's a good kid."

"She said she... knew your daughter. And her party."

"Ah." is all Sir Egbert replies.

You try to formulate a thought beyond that, but it appears Sir Egbert has finished his dough. He places it in a well-oiled bowl, covers it, and consults a watch of dwarven make, presumably to set a time. By the time he goes over to the stove of the little kitchen to begin working on a large pot, you have forgotten what you want to say.

Eventually, Sir Egbert says, "They were a good party. Talented, well-organized- and they had been on longer trips by then."

There is a feeling of dread settling into your bones as you turn, not spotting the fellow's face. There is only the look of his back and the smoke puffing from the pipe he blows on while working on pouring a bottle of wine.

"In comparison, two months seemed like a sort of vacation. It was supposed to be the sort of trip that happened where you only fight if it's necessary. I knew she could take care of herself."

There is the smell of something citrusy as Sir Egbert swipes the blade of a knife over only the vibrant yellow rind of a lemon. You are afraid to interrupt, as this is the most candid the man has been since you arrived on the island.

"Even if she couldn't," Sir Egbert continues, "her party was dependable. They were all friends- thicker than thieves, even when they were younger." He pauses, "Or when Jade and June were younger- it's harder to gauge just how old the Lalonde siblings were when they arrived on the island. I don't have the best eye for the longer-lived races, you see,"

"Of course," You say, and crack a little smile at that. You feel the same about the shorter-lived ones- though a tallman like Sir Egbert looks to you to be about his mid 200s, you just know he would give some ridiculously low number as his true age.

Sir Egbert pours a dredge of sugar into the concoction he's brewing. "They were all strong in their own right. It should have been enough."

But it wasn't. And that sentiment hangs in the air as a dark cloud as Sir Egbert diligently cuts thin slices of orange into the pot.

You can't see Sir Egbert's face as he says, "I think something happened in the dungeon." You wonder if he also read Theras's work- if he also pored over those pages as intently as you, searching for any sign that the party she spoke of was the same that had suppered in his home.

"What makes you think that?"

But he makes no mention of it. Instead, he speaks, and what he says chills you to your core.

"I've been killed."

The silence that rings between you is so sharp that it makes the feeling of blood rushing to your ears hurt. You slowly set the pestle down in the mortar, the crack of wood on spiced-wood a lightning strike through the gloom. You remember your death. The freezing of your joints. The ghost.

"I-In the dungeon?" You ask, stupidly, because where else could Sir Egbert have been killed to be subsequently resurrected? If they'd killed him here above ground, there would be no magic to bring him back from the land of the dead.

"Every single time I've so much as stepped foot in it." Sir Egbert says. There is a puff of steam, or maybe smoke. He doesn't look at you.

But that doesn't make any sense. You read Theras's work- the upper floors aren't too terribly dangerous, if one knows what they're doing. You saw how Sir Egbert worked on the ship coming to Skaia; he does not seem to be incompetent. Perhaps his luck has seemingly dwindled, or his age has made it harder?

The frost, the ghost, the dungeon.

You don't know for sure whether Theras's party is really them. You've had your suspicions, yes, and many of the locals seem convinced that if the book is fiction, then it fictionalizes them- but it could still be a completely unrelated incident.

"Could you... tell me more about them?" You ask, faint. "The Egbert party."

And Sir Egbert does.

The details begin to slide into place as neatly as the thin noodles Sir Egbert makes of the rested dough. A party of four, made up of a tallman; her beastman cousin; a half-dwarf and a half-elf, calling themselves twins. June had been the leader of the outfit while Rose had been their battle mage and something of a researcher. Dave had been their brawler and archaeologist- Jade their scout, their cleric, another researcher.

They had wanted to reach the bottom of the dungeon, and now, it seemed, the dungeon refused to let them go.

"Dear lord- why...?" You want to ask why he's telling you all this, but that would be foolish. You asked. You shouldn't be so brazen when you ask for everything all by your pathetic little self. "If this is too much-"

"It's not." Sir Egbert says, damnably gentle. You wish he would take the sharpened edge of his tenderness and just run you through. It'd be kinder. "I just need you to know what you might be getting into."

You take a deep breath, and say, "I... had something of a sense of it." Especially now. Especially with the spectre's icy claw still lodged in your heart.

The wine has been left to stew in its own heat off to the side; the noodles left to become somewhat hard. Sir Egbert looks to you, silent. Then he bows his head and says, "Then I hope you know to prepare well for this mission of yours." And the only thing you can do is nod.

The chilled atmosphere remains somewhat even as Sir Egbert asks you to fetch a large jug of bone broth to set about the fire and bring to another boil. He cooks the newly made pasta and you both watch the squares bob up under the dark broth. Those noodles are then fished out and, strangely, the broth is not used again.

You watch with mild confusion as Sir Egbert lays the squares of cooked noodle along the bottom of two bowls. He grates a thick, soft cheese over top and asks for the powdered douce, which you provide. He sprinkles a fair amount and then repeats the process twice more, leaving both bowls with a heaping helping of melted cheese over chewy noodles and some spice.

Somewhat unsure, you ask, "What have we made, exactly...?"

Sir Egbert looks at you, bewildered. "It's elvish, though?"

"I should say not." You say flatly, too taken aback to figure out how else to emote.

"Really? It's called loseyns," Sir Egbert says. "Are you positive?"

"I should hope so, considering," You gesture to the length of your ears.

Sir Egbert scratches at his perfectly clean-shaven chin. "Strange. It's been all the rage in Lo'Oat these days..."

You are also served a mug of wine with some kind of spicy kick to it. It pairs surprisingly well with the noodles, which taste much like what they are- warm noodles slathered in cheese with some spice and a little sugar.

It's not bad, but it is warming. You ask why it's become so popular, though. You don't understand it. Then Sir Egbert says, "Well, a traveler coming from the western lands had said that during the Elf Queen's birthday banquet, this had been served and eaten with long sticks. If it was good enough for the Queen, then..."

"Hold on," You say, a noodle falling off the thin wooden skewer that he had handed you to eat this with for some reason, "are you talking about lasagna?"

"No- loseyns," Sir Egbert says, a serious, business-like look on his face. "That's what all the locals are calling it."

"No- it's- it's supposed to have meat," You say, struggling to explain, "but ground rather fine, with herbs. It's actually better than most food, and-"

"Ah! But look," Sir Egbert says, pointing at your plate, "it does have meat."

You're about to argue that blatant lie when you look down and what the fuck that's actually a lasagna now. Where did the loseyns you just spent the last hour making go?

Sir Egbert looks as unflappable as always, but you see him conspicuously hiding a tray of what can only be an actual lasagna on the counter behind the mulled wine. You have no idea what the point of this entire exchange was, but have the strange feeling that you have been duped for some unknown and arcane purpose.

By the end of the meal, you've learned that the two dishes really are interchangeable here in most peoples' eyes, and you're also both laughing and making polite merry. You think that tomorrow, when you enjoy the third day of the festival, things will start to look up.

This doesn't stop you from dreaming that night.

While night falls and the echo of revelry slips in, you cannot stop dreaming of frozen bodies locked within unforgiving walls of stone and brass, hands stretched toward a green sun.

( Click here for the loseyns recipe | Click here for the mulled wine )

[footballffbarbiex]

player: Mats Hummels words: 761 request: Mats Hummels - she / her - 500 - 900 - Him taking her to her first Christmas market and staying there until dark to watch all the Christmas lights while drinking hot chocolate/mulled wine

Mats, despite all actions contradicting this, liked tradition and December brought on a lot of them for him. He enjoyed his countdown to the big day. He enjoyed buying his food and drinks so that he can enjoy his evenings. He enjoyed celebrating with his family and friends. He enjoyed Christmas markets. He enjoyed putting up a small tree, some light decoration but it was his. And even though he was single previously, it made him feel good to celebrate in some way. This year however, she’d strolled into his life and made him want to make new traditions while also sharing his own and that included tonight. 

He’d taken her around the market, encouraged her to have a light lunch and nothing too heavy because she’d have more than enough to sample whilst there to give her a full course meal and he wasn’t wrong. She’d tasted some of the most amazing dishes that she may not have considered previously, one of them she chose as the main meal to eat and she’s already loaded it up on her phone with the intention of trying to imitate it at home. 

She hums as she sips on the mulled wine that’s cupped between her hands and Mats, unable to stop himself, adjusts her beanie hat so that she can see a little better. It’s been bugging him for the past five minutes and the urge finally got the better of him. She keeps giving small blows over the surface to cool it down before taking another sip. 

A lot of the crowd has begun to file out, armed with bags of gifts, holiday trinkets and perfectly wrapped handmade foodie goodies. She knows the lure of the stalls, she’s got a few small bags beside her containing spiced biscuits, various spreads - both sweet and savoury - for them and those they know, something yummy for Christmas Eve and some items for decoration as well as a few gifts that she knew would be perfect for the ones in mind. Mats had bought a few things too, including some sweet treats but he’s already gobbled up one of the bag contents.

Though lights had been strung up and the market area itself is incredibly well lit, the large Christmas tree which took pride of place in the centre with all the stalls circulating it. It’s impressive, a tree right off the set of a certain Wizarding franchise. While all the other lights are strung up leading to the main event, everyone who remains now waits for this to be switched on. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she says quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder, and as a result, taking him out of her line of vision as she watches those who are the event organisers getting ready. Which is a shame because if she could see him, she’d see the way he was struggling to keep the smile from spreading. To stop him from slipping up and looking like the love struck puppy, Mats takes a drink of hot cocoa. 

“That’s ok. You said you wanted something that wasn’t from the everyday stores and I knew that you’d love it here.”

“It’s a coffee lovers dream. No wonder you come back every year.”

“I’ve never touched a caffeinated drink in my life.” He jokes and she chuckles. 

Before she’s able to say anything, the projector screen that had been inactive throughout the open market is now alive with a 10 minute countdown and excitement begins to move throughout the waiting crowd. 

“Do you always hang around for this bit? Or are you already trying to drive home and hope you’re not stuck in the traffic?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed for the lights being switched on.” He answers as he considers it. “No. No, I don’t think I have. So this is new for me.”

“I know it’s not much.” She says, wondering where to go with the thought. 

“It is, it’s something new with something I’ve always done.”

“It’s almost like wedding days. This is something new, but is coming here something old - as in your traditions,” she clarifies, “or something borrowed, as in, "I haven't had this experience before but you have and I love that you’ve chosen me to do this with.”

This time, Mats can’t help but give his happy smile at her, his eyes lighting up hearing the praise and gratitude falling from her lips so easily, it made him want to kiss her right here and now. “We’ll definitely make new traditions together. I promise.”

[tnystrk-exe]

Covenant and Devotion

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Summary: “I ask for so little, just let me rule you and you can have everything that you want. Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave.”

Warnings: 18+ Oral m receiving

AN: I’ve been obsessed with the dynamics with the guys for a while. After sitting on it for the longest, I figured why not just write it. Forgive me if I’m a bit rusty.

AO3 Link

“I ask for so little, just let me rule you.”

It had been days. Days upon days of hearing he wasn’t good enough. This position wasn’t his birthright. Luck of the draw. A rat that scurried to chance the second it presented itself. 

So what if he had?

He did the work. 

Poured the very fiber of his being into this ministry and earned it more than anyone before him had. 

No. “Lucky” was something he never was. Who could look at the way his life started and claim such a thing. He wasn’t born and immediately given opportunity on the simple chance of existing within the right circumstances. 

For years he dedicated his life to the dark lord. It was only right he’d be rewarded for his efforts. How could they ever question Him? He knew of Copia’s coming. Each and every year crawled this miserable church to the true hands it belonged in. To someone who truly respected it and didn’t use the position for pleasure alone. This was his right. 

Who were they to question what Satanas wanted? Traitors, the lot of them.

He never mind time in the confessional. Being a good Papa to the congregation that he’d been asked to protect and guide was more than important to him. However, sitting here to stew in his thoughts between people was a bitch to say the least. 

There was no such thing as luck in this world. They’d be proven wrong. Then punished by Him for ever doubting his lead.

A soft knock against the confessional brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Il Padre, il Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum,” he heard you begin.

“Tell Papa your sins, Sorella. Let us rejoice in them.”

Taking a deep breath he reveled in the scent of your perfume. Had your voice not given you away, surely he would have recognized you on the smell alone. It invaded his senses. The memory of it made him weak on nights where he was too busy to look for a partner. 

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell,” you sighed, the soft click of prayer beads filled the air as you toyed with them. “You, Papa?”

He chuckled at your shyness, “I’m here to praise you, little one. Not the other way around. There must have been some thought floating around in your head, tempting you.”

“Well…”

“Well…” he urged you, “Come, tell Papa your secret. I ask for nothing more, only to be let in.”

“I-“ 

The warmth that must’ve been flooding your face was easy to imagine. He was much the same when he was younger. Though Nihil was usually guaranteed to be drunk or high so after a while such things were easy to shake off. Now? Everything he’d done on stage hardly left any shame. It’s been a while since he blushed. That was a shame. In the correct situations, it wasn't the worst feeling. 

“We don’t have to talk about such things if you’re not ready. We can have a simple conversation.”

“No. No, I can do it,” you insisted, “I’m just… embarrassed. It’s so typical.”

He mulled over what to say for a second. “Many have existed, you know, I’d like to think there’s some comfort in that. No matter what. Someone’s probably had the thought. You’re not alone in it.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him smile. “I’m certain I’m not.”

“If you tell me, I can tell you if we have something in common.”

“Tricky,” you chided him before taking a deep breath, “Eucharist.”

“What about it?”

“Fuck, if there’s ever a time to say something,” you whispered to yourself, “I can’t shake it. No matter what I try, I think about it… Kneeling in front of you, the taste of your glove on my tongue, your grip on my chin to ensure I looked in your eyes as you gave me wine.”

He felt himself stir in his pants. Of course there had been motives to those actions. Pretty images to lock away for himself later, not that he’d assume you’d reciprocate. His finger ghosted over the growing bulge. 

“I see… Can’t say I’ve ever thought of a Papa that way. Have you done anything to remedy these thoughts? There’s been many times you’ve taken the Eucharist.”

“That's why I was late today. The usual dream woke me up at night and it felt so real I needed to finish. Lost track of time and well you know.”

“Such a needy thing for your Papa.” He smirked at the quiet sound of your whine. “My poor little lamb. Did it feel good imagining it was my fingers ruining you?”

“Papa…” 

He chuckled, “Perhaps, I have my answer. I always wondered why you’d only take Eucharist from me. Though, I simply assumed you were intimidated of Terzo. Che ragazza leale, you knew who your true Papa was, didn’t you? Even when he was nothing more than a Cardinal. Che bravissima ragazza sei stata.”

“You’re being mean,” you whined, voice doing little to hide your embarrassment. 

“No. No, tesoro, never to you unless you asked for such treatment. I took note of how easily you called me Papa while others still stumble over it years later. Cardinal,” he scoffed, ��I’ve ascended. Changed. He’s no longer me. No. But you, Sorella, you took to your Papa so beautifully. Why don’t you come to me? Receive the Sacrement you truly long for.”

You said nothing. The door shut. Fuck, he may have ruined this by pushing. Maybe all you wanted was to take the thought out of your head and he misread the situation. If he had to get a new assistant he understood that, but the idea of upsetting you shrouded over everything else. 

Though all those worries washed out when you opened the door and immediately settled yourself on your knees in the cramped space. He closed the door, spreading his legs to allow you more room. His finger traced along your jaw. 

“YN, answer me honestly. Copia right now,” he stated, the usual thing to say when you were on equal footing, “Is this what you want? Nothing has to happen. We see each other in the morning, same as usual.”

You grabbed his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his gloved hand. “I want this, Copia, I want you. Let me worship you for all the good you do. You do so much and never get anything in return.”

For that he couldn’t manage a sentence. His brain nearly imploded at the thought. Instead, he merely motioned to the laces that we’re keeping you from what you wanted. 

He hissed you palmed him. Being reminded when he saw a mischievous glint in your eye that despite the initial bashful demeanor you were still a sister of sin. The only thing that betrayed any of your earlier emotion was the slight tremble of your hands as you undid the laces. Chuckling quietly when you groaned in frustration at how tight he had tied it.

“Hush, sweet girl. Don’t want to be caught, do you?” He asked. Though if he could have it his way he’d have you moaning to the heavens so everyone would know who you belonged to. You tugged at the string making a disappointed sound once more. “Such an impatient thing aren’t you? Open.”

Your hands didn’t leave his lap still fumbling, but you looked up at him immediately obeying his command. Eyes looking at him with an innocence he knew you didn’t truly possess. All the same he twitched against the strained fabric. 

One hand gripped your chin, squeezing your cheeks roughly. “What was it that lingered? The taste of my gloves?” He nodded your head for you. “Yes, I see.”

Two of his fingers traced your bottom lip. 

Today's choice of gloves were the skeleton ones. The bumps and ridges on them were subtle in the light, but you’d feel them well enough if you allowed him to return the favor after his turn. He wouldn’t take you. Not here. Not yet. When he did that he’d savor it. There would be all the time in the world to learn the secrets you had. 

His fingers thrusted themselves against your tongue. Your mouth closed around them, hands stilled as you looked at him docile as ever while he did as he wished. A content hum signaling you were more than pleased with the situation. With his free hand he took care of undoing the laces. Grabbing one of your hands he wrapped it around himself, moaning his approval as you pumped him. The warmth of your mouth sunk into the glove, making him impatient to experience it first hand. 

“Come, cara mia, receive the gift your Papa wants to give you.”

You whimpered as he withdrew his fingers. Wiping the spit off of them on your cheek. An adorably furrowed brow at him, but otherwise no response. What use when you’d be covered in your spit in a moment anyway?

With a hand at the base of your neck, he led you forward. A grateful moan slipped past his lips as you licked off the precome that was making its way down the shaft. The tip received kitten licks. He leaned his head back and eyes closed as you took your time. It had been a long time since he cared to have a partner, but there was no need in rushing this after he coveted it for so long. He couldn’t help tugging at your hair as he kept himself in place. 

Eventually, you let him into your mouth. The feeling of it was near damning. Tongue swirled making sure no part of him was left untouched. 

“Lucifero mi ha benedetto con te. Una bocca così dolce per tuo Papa.”

It was embarrassing how quickly this would be over. Maybe that was a plus side to sleeping around, he would’ve been allowed this longer. Before he could give it much more thought you suddenly slipped him in as deep as you could manage. Making him choke out a loud groan as you gagged around him. Selfishly, his hand kept you there, hips giving shallow thrust to get just that much deeper.

“This is what you wanted, eh? Your Papa’s cock in that little throat. Perfetto. Mi prende così bene. Non vedo l'ora di scopare quella figa così come questa gola.”

You made a soft noise, blinking away tears from your eyes, but you didn’t struggle against the on slot. More so welcoming the invasion as you braced yourself against his thighs. He muttered out more strung out thoughts. None heading anywhere other than how good he felt or what he’d do to you later. 

Taking some mercy, he finally allowed you to breathe. He almost felt pity as you took deep breaths through coughs, but the fussed make up didn’t let him feel that bad. You didn’t seem to feel so bad either as the second you felt okay again you were back on him. Lavashing a vein with sweet kisses. 

Running a hand through his hair he tugged at the strands. Needing something to ground him. 

“You look so pretty, Copia,” you said quietly. 

“Cara,” he groaned, feeling the warmth rise to his face. “I need you. Ho bisogno di te. Mente, corpo, e anima. Tutto quello che devi dare per me solo. Let me keep you. Be mine. Take what I give you.”

Pulling your head back, he laid his head against your tongue. Hand fisting himself away as he pushed himself closer to the edge. It wasn’t long before he finished. His cum a mess in your mouth and around it as you made a show of swallowing it down for him. Using a finger to wipe the rest, put it on your tongue to clean off the mess. 

Grabbing the handkerchief from his pocket he cleaned you up properly. There would still be evidence that you’ve done someone but it was as clean as he could manage at the moment. Helping you from your cramped position, he sat you on his lap. 

“May I kiss you?” 

It felt a bit ridiculous to ask all things considered but he asked anyway. 

“Please, Copia.”

Closing the distance, his hard work to clean you was ruined once more by paints. Oh well, he intended on making you his anyway. His hand slipped into your waistband, slow enough to give you time to deny him. When you did nothing he ventured further, finding the mess there. All from touching him alone. 

“Che brava ragazza sei per me.”

A knock interrupted the environment. 

“Il Padre, il Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum,” the man started, “I’ve partook in the act of lust.”

Copia’s hand didn’t stop what it had set out to do, the free one simply opted to preoccupy your mouth to help muffle out any noise you’d make. 

“How delicious. And who has been the object of your desire?”

“Sister YN, Papa, I can’t get her out of my head.”

When you went to sneak a peek out of curiosity he drove his fingers harder into you. Relishing in the way you gripped at his dress shirt the muffled vibration of your moan against his palm. 

“What a pity that is.”